#and if things are bad then I can get about a month or so of rest to write

[catis15]

I'm in gen Z and I've got friends who think like this

I wasn't too sheltered as a kid or a teen so like I don't agree with some but I can see the reasoning. Though the asking to masturbate one is wild, like wtf dude that's just like... A weird thing to ask. Also thought it was like a canon event for some ppl to masturbate to like the idea of ppl they found attractive. I've never done that cuz yeah it feels really fucking weird like dawg I know that person, but ASKING is so fucking wild man 😭

And actors younger than 18 what's that about? If it ain't got sexual content I don't see the problem as long as like workplace abuse isn't happening because it's pretty common to my knowledge in the industry.

Like how am I on the other side of my own generations BS 😂😭 I think I should be grateful??

Don't think not smoking and drinking is a bad thing though lmao. But I know a lot of my friends and I were shamed for sex related stuff by our parents. I mean when I was i think 16 or 17 my mother went through *private* ifykyk messages and continued to shame me for things that were said for a month or so after, even getting my MUCH younger sisters involved by telling them "Leaf is doing nasty things' or "Leaf is doing things she knows she shouldn't" and then she'd directly quote things I said to my partner as a way to embarrass me. Kinda weird looking back on it but my mom's kinda fucked up lol

But I had a lot of friends with similar experiences. It doesn't really create a safe place for what are pretty normal feelings :/

But then on the complete opposite side we have shows like Big Mouth and sites like AO3 where it's a very normal thing to be horny and have kinks and it's not shamed, sometimes even encouraged. We grew up wack y'all lol

So lines had to be drawn SOMEWHERE and for a lot of ppl my age it gets to be a little much

Like I have a friend who hates like any sort of sexual reference to underage characters. Which is totally fair they're underage it's whatever. But it's to the point he gets like defensive about it. And he's the dude who's pretty steadfast in his beliefs, but it got to the point even i thought it was a little weird. Like sometimes he'd get mad about making out or slightly heavier relationships between minors, eich again I can see the thought process, but also ppl are having sex by 16 or 17, and it makes sense that characters those ages would be doing similar things. I grew up reading books where teenagers did teenager things, and I feel like there is a level of age appropriate stuff? Like no dawg don't make full ass bdsm shit for teens but I feel like referenced or even vanilla type shit is fine????

I don't have a license so I can't talk-

Working on it though ;v;

And yeah lmao masturbate it's good for you (no literally there are studies saying it's good to do lmfao, like drinking a single glass of red wine before bed once a night is good for you... Unless your a recovering alcoholic then maybe not)

Sorry went on like a whole tangent lol but I'm bored and wanted to throw my two cents as someone who's got friends who think like op mentioned but I... Don't lol.

weird anti ideology finally leaking out into the mainstream

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[meansevika]

okay so very long thinkpiece about meljay and jayce' treatment of mel / the writers treatment of mel and how i think that all things considered she hasnt really won as much as we think she did

the thing about this that makes me so mad or rather sad (both, actually) is that we learn in season 1 how mel was brought up, that she didn't get to be soft and kind, that her surroundings were hard and rough just like her mother was, that love isn't a thing she knows like that especially not in relation to vulnerability. now if you think about media in general there is a pattern we know. the black woman is always the strong woman, the independent woman, the woman who doesnt get to be vulnerable bc of the first two points. so here comes this man she's trying to use not just for her own endeavors but for the good of piltover, clearly having a different mindset than her mother, and he cracks her open just like that. he's vulnerable with her and he lets her be vulnerable with him and it allows this woman this kind of vulnerability that she was never allowed to feel. she feels and she loves and there is someone who holds her and looks out for her when things go bad. he is his first thought after the bombing and hes so loving and endearing unlike her mother who is concerned, of course, but straight back to business too. and oh what a lovely thing that was to watch as a black woman who to this day still doesn't get to see this as often as we really should

so mel gets to experience something she hasnt before and you can tell it means something to her because when she gets back in act 3 the first reaction to him is an excited, hopeful one.

this is the man she cares deeply for and it is also the man who shes comforted before many times. something she needs in those very confusing times too. something she might be looking out for. something she might hope to get herself. some comforting after what shes been through for months. someone to share what is going on with her and how confusing it is to find out all those lies and secrets about herself.

until she notices how changed he is, how different he looks, so instantly she is worried. of course! who wouldnt be! she very likely didnt even know he was missing since its the first time we see her back in the city so she must've assumed he has been here and well for the whole time being (does she even know how long its been?) but it isnt fine as we know. she puts herself second! immediately! (and rewatching that scene now it actually makes me mad how she does that. and how anyone can question any of her feelings for him when shes immediately all jayce. or how in general people think shes only interested in her own goals) she asks this man who has shown her to be vulnerable around him and it BEING FINE, what happened, shes opening herself up to him, again, over and over, and he not only tells her it doesnt matter (what happened to him) but TURNS HIS BACK ON HER. he is literally shutting her off. he is saying with his body she does not get to do that. and for someone who has grown up like this, with a mother cutting off any kind of displays of weakness, this must be a familiar feeling, something that goes off like a bell

but she still tries! she still tries! she sees something is wrong but she tries to get comfort anyway, because this is jayce, right, this is the man she cares for deeply, the man who has opened this door for her and the door she's let herself through, the man who has always had compassion for her. of course she tries again. why wouldn't she? so she starts that something has happened to her but he doesn't even let her tell him what happened (actually it makes me so mad seeing this again and how crazy hostile he is towards her, its like im looking at the mel hating part of arcanetwt and him repeating beat for beat what theyve been saying for years) he doesnt give her room to speak, just takes it for himself, prioritizing himself and his own feelings. and, yes, figuring out the bombing thing and wanting to talk about it is valid and i think in general this could've been a great angsty way to deal with this topic IF they would've had the opportunity to talk this out properly but what happens instead is that the man that makes mel feel safe starts INTERROGATING her like she is a criminal that should be held for trial FOR SAVING HIM something she doesnt even undestand herself. and suddenly she is in a whole different position and i think by now she knows that this kind of compassion and understanding and room for vulnerability isn't part of their conversation anymore

she loses her composure and that of course isnt a first because she has started to be less put together around him, allowing her more room to "sway" but this kind of destruction is a different one because she feels at trial, feels cornered, feels like she has to explain herself but - and thats what is important - isnt heard. and i think that is something she knows very well, something shes grown up with, trying to explain herself and not being heard.

all of that happens while he is, mind you, still holding onto that hammer. something she surely notices too. the man who's usually quick to let down his defences around her, who isnt councilor talis or mister talis but just jayce around her, is holding onto that hammer like shes a threat. so he tells her he thinks shes lying and she asks him why he would think she'd do that, obviously, because her understanding of their relationship and their trust is a different one than his or at least this jayce that has come back from the arcane, because clearly this kind of understanding comes from somewhere and it comes from the times they've spent together alone throughout season 1 and a little in the beginning of season 2.

he throws at her that shes been using him, something that surprises her, because clearly she doesnt know what has happened, but she tries to explain anyway, because she doesnt know what has happened at least not in full (as you can tell by her reaction to viktor appearing, sensing the hostile mood between both, but also the way she reacts when viktor mentions the noxians intentions), and you can see that these thoughts of his are a result of months in the arcane alone with them and imagining conversations over conversations (although for me its still hard to understand how he grew that hostile towards her this quickly as if she were responsible for everything that happened but those are thoughts for a different post). he crashes out during that conversation, his face is warped with hatred and that is. all. for. her. to. see. and then BOOM goes the hammer off. mid conversation. a conversation that should feel safe with a man she should feel safe with but none of that is there. there is no space for her. (and yes i know hes aiming at viktors puppet but that isnt somethng mel is aware in that moment)

it all leads up to a fight and eventually they walk together and he apologizes, although very distantly and without much explanation, and despite it all, despite having good reasons to shut off and not share what she's feeling, she does. she talks to him about what is on her mind and they have a short, bittersweet exchange but it's just nowhere to what they've established in the first season. as a shipper of course that is super frustrating, but as a mel fan it's just sad to see that the person she felt safe enough to seek comfort in is just so closed off. but not only that, it's obvious they're parting ways and it's very obvious this is coming from his side and i think that is also why she so wilingly accepts it. she doesn't fight much back throughout their whole fight earlier either, she tries to explain herself, but doesnt demand that room for herself even though in this relationship she should be able to take just as much room for herself and her feelings as he does, but she doesn't. she just lets it happen and i understand it bc you have this man you trust and probably love and his first reaction to you is hostile when hostile has never been a response to her. he made a complete u-turn and of course that's off putting, maybe even scary, of course it shuts her down, makes someone who's so good with words and fighting just try to cause as little damage as possible because that is how she's grown up, isn't it?

and that is why i am sad about this. she learned that love doesnt have to look like her mothers and that being vulnerable isnt a weakness and its his doing but here she is met by this kind of hostility she only knows from noxus and it hurts even more that it COMES FROM HIM and over something as SAVING HIS LIFE when its clearly was an act out of love and not investment bc if i'd would've been just that than she would've saved viktor as well? but it wasnt about that. it was her subconscious making a decision and it was something her mother would describe as an act of weakness (theres a reason she gets renni to attack him bc she sees how fond mel of him is maybe even because shes been fond of a man herself once and she knows what itll do) and i think the worst part about it is that she doesnt ever get to truly articulate this or anything else and now that jayce is gone (dead? in a stone? who knows?) she won't get to ever probably. she won't get to say what she thinks and explain herself truly and she won't have anyone to confide in, to be comforted by or comfort. elora is dead, kino wasn't real and the real one is actually dead too, jayce is well whatever he is, and her mother died in her arms. yes, mel is a mage and that is fucking awesome and i was so happy to see her go off and get so many spotlights in battle, but shes also so fucking tragic actually. because here she is with a fuck ton of weight on her shoulders, the noxian army looking up to her, the whole name, not knowing who her father is or what any of her powers mean, the whole black rose thing, everything unresolved between her and jayce, the death of the people she loves, and shes all alone with it. shes all alone with it and she gets no one. man im just fucking sad that this woman got a glimpse of what it could be like to be loved and have someone to "come home to" just for her to have literally no one left like why do you hate black women so much why cant they get a fucking good ending and why cant they be fucking loved even when things get hard

also im lowkey mad that jayce got to find comfort in her lap so many times and not once did she get that in return, not even a squeeze of her shoulder, but dont let me get started on that....

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Mr. Scarletella:

Content: violence + stalking + voyerism + picture taking + masturbation + stealing + break of privacy + neutral reader + tampering with your food + noncon content + Stockholm syndrome. + mindbreak.

Summary: Human! Scarletella just wasn't able to stop himself from stalking falling in love with such an amazing person, God, he just loves stealing borrowing your stuff!

Note: So, I just had to write something about this amazing game, feel free to check it out and support the creator!!

SFW:

Yandere! Scarletella who fell in love since the first time he saw you around university, always being around those other guys... But he knew he just had to wait, yeah, wait for the right moment to approach you.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps randomly appearing on your classes from time to time. Oh, he isn't even in your course, but taking a few extra classes or even skipping some of his is no issue for him.

Yandere! Scarlatella who makes sure to get close enough so he can steal a few things from you while in class, sometimes it's your old pencil, other times he just takes whatever has touched your hand that class. That includes waiting until the university is closing to take your thrown away coffe cup (it still has your salive, so he has definitely kissed you, right?).

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on appearing on your daily life, you try to act as if the constant encounters are just mere coincidences, not like he even tried to strike up a conversation with you, so there must be no danger, right?

Yandere! Scarlatella who sometimes follows you back to your doorm. He always makes sure to walk quite far away from you trying to avoid freaking you out as he knows it would affect your daily routine.

Yandere! Scarlatella who climbs up the tree just to be able to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. You look so beautiful with your lips sligthly parted! ♡ You don't know it, but he has found a way of opening your window while you're sleeping. When he feels extra bold, he lets himself run his fingers through your soft lips feeling your warm breath is just enough to get him hot and bothered ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to be feared by all your friends. They keep warning you about him, but it's not like you have any proof of what he's doing, such a shame :(( jk. He made sure to state his point, beating your poor friends to a pulp if he saw them getting a bit too close to you, he made sure to leave no visible marks, he doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head.

Yandere! Scarlatella who loses it after seeing that creepy long-haired guy far too close to you, if you wanted him to kidnap take you with him already you could've just said so dummy! Of course he wastes no time taking you from those filthy guys. You will be safe with him ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who breaks your poor mind after being trapped several months. Maybe being taken care of isn't so bad, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Scarlatella who masturbates to your sleeping face, his tip being dangerously close to your lips. He can't stop imagining them surrounding his lenght...♡ He knows he has to keep patient but each day it becomes harder to act neutral.

Yandere! Scarlatella who takes photos of your clothed cunt for his collection. This collection includes many versions, from more tame ones (you smiling) to less... ethical ones (your sleeping face).

Yandere! Scarlatella who robs your underwear while you sleep. He just needs some... extra motivation. So he uses them, wrapping them around his cock as he keeps moving his hand up and down, making sure to stain your poor underwear with his sperm. He makes sure to clean them throughly before giving them back to you, although he sometimes wishes he could just cum inside the underwear you're currently using.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on putting his own fluids on the stuff he feeds you. Most days he keeps it tame, deciding to introduce a bit of his salive on your food/drink, but when you behave extremely bad, he uses his cum, mixing it with your food together with some aphrodisiac, just enough to make you lose a bit of your sanity from not being able to masturbate.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps cameras all around his house so he can see you from different angles (all make you look like an angel ♡). He may or may not use those videos to masturbate, just maybe.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to use your mouth to release himself as a reward. You were just so eager to be touched! He just knew you were in love with him! It has definitely nothing to do with him being the only human contact for over six months! You let him use your mouth as he wants, forcing his cock into your throat, those sinful sounds filling his room as you try not to puke from his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Yandere! Scarlatella who slowly begins to mark your whole body as his. He started by marking your face with his cum, moving on to your mouth and then to your beautiful chest, the next step was of course cumming all over your low abdomen.

Yandere! Scarlatella who refuses to cum inside of you. He keeps controlling himself by saying that he wants to make sure both of you truly love each other... that's... well. Let's just say that he is just another level of delusion, but don't worry, he would never give up on his sweet and precious darling ♡ !

[idol-fan-eve]

1 out 1,000 babies can be born with one kidney. That is a 0.001% chance of that happening.

about 2 to3 % of Americans have scoliosis

I have both of these and I didn’t find out about having one kidney until I was 14 after a trip to the hospital with really bad gas in my stomach.

I also have a family line of thyroid problems on my mother side

both side of family has a history of cancer

had terrible period cramps only to find out at 18 that I had higher testosterone and estrogen, meaning I had PCOS

had an extra 3rd canine tooth in my mouth so I needed to lose my secound one in order for that to grow in

I swallowed a quarter once when I was a child and went to the hospital to make sure nothing got stuck

One year I got sick every month for god knows what reason

I had a migraine for the first time in my last year of high and didn’t go away for an entire day and pretty much Ed put me out of commission and just get the bad headaches on the side of my head sometimes

A few months ago, I went to the hospital again to be diagnosed with upper respiratory infection, causing me to stay home for the rest of the week since I work with kids and didn’t want them to get sick and am now using an inhaler whenever I get bad chest pain from that thing

and I’m addicted to nasal spray, but I can’t stop because I can’t spend days stugglijg to breath through my nose.

Don’t know who to tag in this so I’ll pick someone that I follow

@callilemon no pressure tags

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[andhumanslovedstories]

Funny thing just happened at the Friendsgiving I was just at. My friend who is also in danmei hell mentioned Scum Villain fic, and I was like, “oh I’m actually writing one at the moment.” So per their request, I sent them the link, and it turns they were already reading this fic. Like, they had read it within the last 24 hours.

Always bizarre to know real people read my writing. Not bad! It feels very nice actually. Putting stuff online can often feel so abstract and for an often friendly and also faceless audience (hi). Then something happens, and you get reminded that any audience is made up of individual people who exist outside the internet. I’ve gotten the same feeling when I run into someone irl who recognizes my blog. On those very rare occasions, I am so deeply flattered and also blindsided that my higher cognitive functions shut down.

The reverse happened to me last year where I went to a book signing with Shelley Parker-Chan. There was a Q&A, so they’re twenty feet away from me, answering questions about She Who Became the Sun, a novel I absolutely adored reading. And I’m like, that’s just a person. Everything I love and admire were made by people who are just people. There isn’t this clear delineation between me and the people I respect.

I struggle with this idea that I have to become a different version of myself before I can do what I want to do. It becomes a paradoxical nightmare. Authors write novels, and since I haven’t written a novel, I can’t be an Author, and if I’m not an Author, I can’t write a novel. It’s good for me to be periodically confronted by proof that this is complete bullshit. You do the things you want to do to become the person you want to become, and that person is not a dramatic transformation from your current self. It’s just you, having done the thing you want to do and all the work it took to do it.

And at that book signing, for the first time in months, maybe years, I really really really wanted to write. I wanted to write a novel I was proud of and present it for other people to read. I wanted to be on a small stage answering questions about a book I wrote that someone else adores. I hadn’t realized that I thought doing that was impossible until I realized that actually it was attainable. Everything’s just people, all the way down.

[writergirlll]

can you write something about F1 driver (doesn't matter who) x reader, when they were best friends since childhood, but then suddenly they become strangers. no one knows how, why, and not even themselves, until they meet at the Las Vegas GP after a long absence..

Yeah suree. (I know this is pretty bad, but I wrote this late at night, so sorry, I'll just get better!!)

CHILD MEMORIES /LH44

Lewis Hamilton x reader

I don't know why I put Lewis, but somehow he fit me there..

words: 2k+

You were everything. You brightened up anyone, you laughed at everything, you were the sun of Mercedes. Everyone loved you, you were inseparable.

You and Lewis have been best friends since birth. Your families were close, so you practically had no choice but to hang out with each other. But the decision was great!

You spent whole days together, the same kindergarten, elementary school and then high school. You weren't even separated when Lewis started driving F1 because you followed him to EVERY race. Everyone knew how close you were. Journalists, fans, co-workers of Lewis, your families and you.

That's why you just didn't know what happened. Four months have passed since Lewis' last race. And you haven't seen each other in four months. You didn't know why, you didn't know how.

Lewis stopped texting you, stopped answering your calls, and blocked you pretty much everywhere. You couldn't comment on his posts, you couldn't do anything. When you were waiting for him three days ago after the race, you didn't even get to see him because Russell kicked you out saying that Lewis definitely didn't want to see you.

You didn't understand it at all because you were inseparable and the worst part was that everyone asked you about it. Your whole family asked you, your friends, fans of you and Lewis, or even the press. But you just couldn't answer. You couldn't tell them that you had absolutely no idea what was going on and you wanted to know. You couldn't tell them it was Lewis who cut you off because he would be blamed. And okay, maybe he's ignoring you right now and you don't know why, but you're definitely not a bitch who would betray him and take the blame on him. Yes, he was at fault, but not everyone needs to know that..

And that's why you decided to go to the race in Las Vegas, to find out the answers. You knew it might not be a good idea because you might get fired again and it would be even worse for your psyche, but you had to know the answers. Just had to.

“Y/n no! You're not going to the movies with him” Lewis started yelling at you when you were nine.

,,Why? You are not my mom to order me around. He's nice to me and he doesn't yell at me unlike you" you stuck your tongue out at him and started putting on your mom's lipstick.

"He's not nice. He's just using you" he shook his head and stepped closer to you.

"But he's handsome. You don't know him at all” you mumbled as you concentrated on putting red on your lips.

"I know him. He doesn't do homework at all and his dad is said to have been in prison. He's not nice to me at all" he explained and you turned to him.

“Is it true?” you asked and he nodded quickly, his head almost falling off. "But I already have the tickets and I've made an appointment with him" you whined.

"Then you will come with me and we will write him a letter on the way. He only lives a few minutes away anyway" Lew thought up and you finally went along with his solution.

You took off your lipstick and pulled out a piece of paper and started writing - which looked like a scratch that you weren't going anywhere with. Then you put it in the envelope Lew had made in the meantime, sealed it with saliva, and dropped it in his mailbox when you went to the cinema.

At home, you packed some things, bought tickets and booked a hotel. You told your parents and everyone close to you about your plan and got on the plane.

After a few hours of flight, you finally flew to Las Vegas, called a taxi and went to check into the hotel.

When you did this, you decided it was time to go get answers. You didn't know what you would say to him when you saw him in four months, or if you would see him at all, but you wanted to at least try.

You've been pretty sick these past few months and weeks. You were constantly wondering if it was your fault and what you did wrong. The family told you that it might not be your fault but his, but you just didn't want to believe that Lewis would do something like that. Certainly not the Lewis you knew.

You cried for days and nights and it took you a long time to sort of recover from it. You knew that if Lewis ignored you even today, or didn't let you see him, it would be even worse. But why not give it a try?

You left the hotel straight to the track, where the qualification was supposed to start in an hour so you were hoping to catch Lewis before quali started.

You showed your VIP ticket at the entrance to the track, even though the people at the gate already knew you very well and would have taken you without a ticket, and you headed to the Mercedes garage, more nervous than ever.

You slowly shuffled there, already having several journalists on your neck, which you successfully ignored. And you also successfully ignored the feeling that told you to turn around and not go there at all.

It wasn't long before you saw a boy in a blue jumpsuit who revealed himself to be George Russell. As soon as you approached him, he noticed you and frowned at first before smiling slightly when he saw your expression.

“Y/n hi. You haven't been here long" he said as he walked up to you and gave you a quick hug.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much reason to walk there" you smiled firmly and looked around for Lewis. "Don't you know where Lewis is?" you asked and George's smile immediately disappeared from his face.

"I think he doesn't want to talk to you much. Besides we are going quali in a bit” he said quickly and you frowned.

"I absolutely do not see why you are bodyguarding him, but I want to know the reason why he did this to me. I have a right to know” you got angry.

"I know, I know but..-"

"No, no but. Just let me go to him. I need to know” you whispered the last part of your sentence and with that George pulled away from you leaving you to search the area.

You searched for quite a long time before you finally caught sight of his head. He was already dressed in his racing suit and was looking for something on the table, among all the things. You stopped for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping forward..

Either it will ruin your life or you will find out the reason..

“Lewis?” your little six year old self whispered and patted little Lewis.

“Yeah” he turned sleepily in his bed and looked at you.

"Could I sleep with you? I'm scared on the floor" you whispered and desperately hoped he would say yes. You were supposed to sleep with him, but since his bed was small, you had to sleep on the floor, which you didn't like.

Little Lewis didn't answer, he just shifted on the bed towards the wall and lifted the covers. You quickly took advantage of this and crawled under the covers, where you snuggled up.

"Thank you so much" you smiled a little and felt tiredness wash over you. Lewis barely nodded, himself already in dreamland and put his arm around your small body and hugged you.

"I love you" you kissed his cheek and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Me too" Lewis smiled, pulling you closer and together you slowly returned to the realm of dreams..

“Lewis?” You asked cautiously, stepping a fair distance away from him to give you some space. You could see a light bulb go off in his head that it was you and he tensed slightly before turning to you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without a greeting and glared at you. Okay, maybe you really should have stayed home..

"I came to watch the race" you replied because you didn't want to argue right now even though you knew it would most likely end up like that.

"And did you buy VIP tickets?" he rolled his eyes at your stupidity and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you ignoring me? Why did you just do all this overnight" you asked him and even though it was only the first question, tears formed in your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Lewis shook his head and went back to looking for things.

"Lewis, you know it very well. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? Because I really don't know why you just left me without an explanation after more than 30 years of knowing each other" you frowned and you made him turn around.

"I don't know okay" he started waving his hands and sighed.

“So you don't know?” you whispered, a single tear falling down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, but Lewis seemed to see it. "After all four months, when I cried constantly because I didn't know the fuck reason why you did it, you're going to tell me that you don't know? You don't even know how much I've been worried about this because how could you when you blocked me everywhere and when I followed you George dumped me” now you started crying.

Looking at your tear covered face, Lewis softened slightly and moved a little closer to you. "I couldn't see you" he only said and looked sympathetic. "I really wanted, I wanted to hug you and explain everything to you, but I couldn't".

"But why"? you sniffed and wiped away the stray tears with the back of your hand - and that there were a lot of them.

"I" he started and ran a hand through his hair without continuing. "Maya, my ex-girlfriend. I started dating her shortly before I cut you off, you didn't even get to know her. She was very angry that I was talking to you and on top of that the whole team said that I was fired by you because I wasn't winning so many races, so I thought this would be the easiest solution. I knew it was definitely wrong, but it was the easiest. But when Maya broke up with me a month ago because she found someone else, I didn't have the strength to go to you. I knew you'd be mad. I knew I messed up terribly. Please forgive me. Please" now he started crying too.

His explanation left you completely shocked. You didn't know what to say to that. You may have understood Maya because you yourself have experienced that a person behaves differently under the pressure of a loved one, but that his team said are you distracting him?

“So this was the easiest solution?” you finally asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't know, please forgive me. I understand what you had to go through and I don't want to lose all those years when we were kids and teenagers" he begged walking closer to you before wiping your wet cheeks with his big hands.

"And Mercedes thinks I'm distracting you"?

"Well, George doesn't. The other teams didn't either, but we really had a tough season, everyone thought differently, they certainly didn't mean it" he hugged you tightly and didn't want to let go.

You wrapped your arms around his back and he wrapped his around your waist. "Let's not lose all our friendship, please. I'll do anything" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

He might have done a bad thing that cost you an extreme amount of tears and everything, but he was still Lewis, who you had loved since birth and who would never knowingly do something so horrible.

"Lew i don't want to lose our friendship either. But I will remember what you did. And I also hope that your Maya, who is probably a nice bitch by the way, doesn't show up in my life" you laughed lightly and Lewis too.

So in the end it turned out to be a good decision to go to Las Vegas...

“What if we never see each other again?” you sighed and looked deeply into the eyes of your best friend of 15 years.

"We'll see. I'm only going there for a few days for now, but you'll be able to go to my races. I'll give you a discount" he smiled at you seeing your concern and you shook your head.

Lew got an offer to F1, when they invited him to an audition and if he succeeded, he would go to junior competitions for a few years in Italy.

"You can't leave me here" you shook your head once more and pulled him into a hug.

"I won't let. Never. Best friends forever"?

"Best Friends Forever".

[ramblingautisticman]

(Okay, for some reason, the repost where I was talking about this just...disapeard?? So here I go. Again. I'm just going to post it as a separate thing.)

(Also, Warning, talking about child hood cancer, experimentation and torture, and the other general dark Logan or Wade things.)

Okay! So- obviously, with the timeline, it wouldn't work- but I can just change that because why not?

Imagine Wade being diagnosed with cancer at 8. He has chemo and some surgeries, then for a good 2 years he is cancer free. Of course, though, it comes back at around 11. There isn't anything they can do this time, though. The surgeries won't work, and chemo will only prolong the inevitable, so Wade has to accept his fate. His parents get approached by someone who promises to cure Wade, though. All they need to do is sign over their legal rights in regards to him, so that's what they do. Sure, they cured him, but only after years of being tortured and experimented on. Wade thinks his parents didn't know at the beginning, but after the first few months, he started to question if they knew what this place was. His parents had never been kind people, and Wade quickly decided his parents probably didn't care what happened when they signed that waver. He survives, though. He gets his mutation, and eventually, the X-Men manages to find the facility that has been doing this. He's glad all of the other kids have been saved and most of them reunited with their parents- he had looked after half of them in that hell hole so he feels responsible for making sure they are all save wherever they go- and he goes back to the school with the other kids who don't have a home to go back to or just don't want to go back home. It's weird to be a whole 17 years of age and not knowing how to function in the world. He knows how to survive, but that's about it. So, it's a struggle to settle into the mansion at first, but he quickly takes on the role of bigger brother to the younger kids. And yeah, he finds it hard to interact with the people his own age, too terrified to deal with the possible riddicule of how he looks.

Logan's been there awhile. He was found by the Professor after a few news articles popped up about some 'strange deaths' and he had investigated. No one at the school knows much about him- they know he lived in the woods for a year when he was 13, and that the Professor found him- but that's about it. Practically all the students avoid him like the plague in the halls and at meal times. It's not that Logan tries to talk to the others anyway, and he doesn't really want too. He's used to being a lone wolf. He keeps to himself, doesn't want to deal with others shit, and he plans to keep it that way. He's gonna leave this place as soon as he is 18 next year. He isn't even sure where he would go, but he refuses to join the X-Men. He can't bring himself too- to many accidents with the claws and panic attacks to be able to help people.

Naturally, Wade decides that Logan is the person he is going to befriend. Even if the idea of being judged terrifies him, he can't help but be interested in the quiet brooding bad boy.

[maplegyu]

I have no words... but watch me proceed to yap

BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE!!! this is officially one of my ult fave fic mingyu's!!! somewhere in the top 5 for sure!!! I need to re-evaluate my top 3 cos wow he deserves to be there im so in love w him. Normal ppl talk abt fave book boyfriends, i have fave fic mingyu's 😌🥰

moving on... I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED FAIRY TINKERER MINGYU UNTIL THIS??!?!?! HE'S PERFECT?!??!!?!!! How is he still soooo golden retriever-coded tho? I want need him so bad!!! (reader can u fight??? hahaha jk) but speaking of reader... i love her??? as someone who DREAMS of her own art studio a part of me definitely felt kinnie'd w her which made reading this all the more fun!!

Mingyu was also the greenest flag!!! A whole forest (pun intended)!!!! As green as his wings. Truly i will never get over when Mingyu is written the way i perceive him! I always say this: (but i'll never get tired of it and it will always be my favorite thing to read) but i reaaaally love when author's write Mingyu as the greenest flag! He's really the bestest sweetest boy golden retriever sunshine 🥰 also this was extra fun to read cos i loved how they leaned in to him being good at fixing/making things which is one of the things i love about Mingyu! Domesticity is the ultimate man attractor to me personally so this was just an absolute treat. Also the toe-curling but soft(??) smut was soooo gooood. The balance of it being steamy/needy while also falling under the gentleness of making love!!? Kicked my feer and screamed into my pillow so many times fr!!!

Im sad the story is finished 😭 cant wait to forget the details in a few months and read this again hahaha 💖💖💖

sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained? 

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest. 

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring. 

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions. 

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will. 

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid. 

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on. 

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further. 

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon. 

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.” 

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly. 

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work. 

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around. 

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more. 

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently. 

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.” 

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything. 

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping. 

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure. 

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?” 

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst. 

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash. 

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering. 

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.” 

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?” 

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included. 

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches. 

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?” 

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply. 

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?” 

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier. 

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu. 

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way. 

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled. 

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel. 

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!” 

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him. 

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.” 

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt. 

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. 

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding. 

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway. 

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

“I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest. 

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience. 

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. 

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny. 

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm. 

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours. 

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it. 

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you. 

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. 

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh. 

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin. 

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?” 

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs. 

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next. 

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time. 

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud. 

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before. 

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation. 

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity. 

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better. 

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts. 

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.” 

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair. 

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation. 

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now. 

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back. 

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we all need a domestic blue collar man who's obsessed with us and wants to build our dream house for us ✨MANIFESTING IT💅

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

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It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss. 

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.” 

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[loveandleases]

What about the cooking skills of the other ROs? And is Jade cooking for Chris now?

I'll answer Jade's first. She's never had to cook for herself so she sees no reason to start now. She can boil water, or make toast. But if you ask her to fry an egg, expect it to be full of egg shell and extremely runny. If Chris wants a home-cooked meal, then they would need to go to their parent's house which has a personal chef.

❤️Cam is an absolute disaster in the kitchen. He tries, he really does, but it always turns out bad. Either things get burnt or under cooked. His cookies will always be chunky and raw, and his toast will always be charred to the point you risk a tooth. I will say that Cam will show interest in attending a cooking class.

💙 G - A good cook, thanks to their halmeoni (grandmother). She was very adamant about G learning to cook so that they could support themself, or if they had a partner. They're very organized in the kitchen and don't like to be bothered when cooking. But they would make an exception for the right person. You can usually find Kimchi Jjiga in their fridge in the colder months.

💚 Kara - There's a joke that the Clarke family is cursed and can't cook. The same can be said for Kara. The difference between her and Cam when it comes to cooking is Kara thinks she's a good cook. Many of her exes thought it was best to lie to her about her cooking skills, and thus she is quite confident when it comes to cooking…it's just misplaced.

💛 M - They're a foodie, so they can cook well enough. Adequate enough they don't starve, but they don't have the time or patience for complex dishes. M is more often than not stressed about a deadline so you'll usually find them snacking more than eating a proper meal. They could easily make MC some tomato egg stir fry, just let them finish editing first.

💜 Isaac - They're a good cook. Even though Isaac is health conscious, they're weak for comfort food. Especially recipes their mom used to make them. It's their way of staying connected to her even though she's no longer alive. Isaac sets two days of the week to just do meal prep, their fridge is normally stocked with various dishes. So, if MC wants, expect Isaac to be more than ready to teach them a recipe or two.

🖤 Ardent - Amazing cook, the best of the Ro's honestly. His parents own a taverna in Greece. Ardent was expected to help out when he was growing up, either with cooking or serving customers. So, he knows his way around a kitchen. He enjoys cooking for people in general, something about the control he can have in the kitchen while also ensuring people eat well. His baklava is 🔥.

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[stillness-in-green]

Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point?  Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to.  We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about!  Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else.  If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing.  It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid.  That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system.  That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself.  And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever.  Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series.  Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it?  Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof.  So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society?  Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we’re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that.  Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later.  No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed!  Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku?  Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out."  But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with.  It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save.  But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed.  However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in.  Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life. 

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai.  To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles. 

Like, this list is not short.  Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can.  So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover.  Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice!  And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

[jessilynallendilla]

DPXDC BATFAM FIC REC

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

& BRUCE 

City Of Last Hopes (The Long Homecoming)  T 

Bruce Wayne became a registered foster parent at the age of twenty when he decided to take in a newly orphaned Dick Grayson. The state of New Jersey and the city of Gotham decided to utilize that fact. Over the years, Bruce has fostered dozens of children, though they were all kept out of the limelight for their own protection. Some he was able to keep in contact with after they moved on from his home. Others, he wasn't. But the ones he worried about the most were the two that should have been his but weren't, were taken away, instead. It's been eleven years since Bruce last saw Jazz and Danny Fenton, and while he's grateful to know they're alive, he dearly wished he'd found them sooner. 

All I Am To You Is A Tragedy, Right?  M SERIES 

Two years ago, Bruce Wayne lost his son, Danny, to one of the Fentons' botched inventions. Return to present day, he's come to another universe to retrieve something from Fenton Works. There, he finds another version of his son, alive and breathing. If Bruce could not keep his son, thanks to their incompetency, why should they keep theirs? 

My Best Friend, Danny  G 

He had been frothing at the mouth to see Bruce take on the Mantle of the Bat that he hadn’t even thought of how he became Batman, at least not realistically. He knew because the comics told him so, but here and now, feeling Bruce’s tears drying on his skin, the warmth of the child’s back as he rested his hand there soothingly, Danny felt his own tears start to gather. He curled himself around Bruce’s slumbering body and cried softly 

Finding Solace  T 

When working on a possible case in Amity Park, Bruce Wayne didn't expect to find a kid that would burrow he's way into his heart. A strange connection built, and before Bruce knew it, he found a new addition to the family. Well before they really needed each other. 

Rendezvous  T 766 SERIES 

a king from another dimension approaches Batman to ask for help. This isn't the weirdest thing Bruce experiences that night. 

Wayne's Haunted Mansion  M SERIES 

Something is wrong. Bruce notices it when he's not alone, but he feels like he is being watched. The bad part? He feels it both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. Who is watching him? He's determined to find out. He regrets it when finds out that there is another child in his home, but one who is in desperate need of help. 

To Fail And To Succeed  T 6,940 SERIES 

A very tired Bruce Wayne may have revealed to Vicki Vale that he wasn't as dumb as he pretended, so Brucie Wayne needs a stupid business venture to throw money at. What better than two paranormal scientists who swear they can build a portal to the Realm of the Dead? He didn't anticipate the damn thing actually working. And he certainly didn't anticipate watching another child die. 

The Absolute Fuckery Caused By One Danny Fenton  NR 

Jazz got Bruce Wayne to temporarily get care of Danny to prevent anymore attacks from the G.I.W. towards her brother. A few flaws with this plan, Danny doesn't trust adults, rich people, or people who want to adopt him. Which Bruce Wayne technically fits all of. So Danny has come to the conclusion if he is going to be shacked up, mostly against his will, with another Fruitloops, he is going to enjoy himself, and hopefully get himself kicked out in the process. 

Found In Gotham  G 4,026 SERIES 

Months after appearing in Metropolis, a teen with glowing white hair appears exploring Gotham's skyline. He appears to be looking for the city's main vigilante, so Batman approaches him. 

Monsters At Your Doorstep  T 1,907 

Bruce falls into a cave of bats and meets the darkness-- or whatever it is that lives inside it. 

Summons  NR 17,295 

Phantom was next in line for the throne of the Ghost Zone, however, he was still underage. He wouldn't be king for some time, yet when they summon the Ghost King now, someone still has to show up. 

Long Live The King (The Ghost King Is Dead)  T SERIES 

Ghosts are attacking across the nation. The Justice League Dark's supernatural entity contacts either don't know anything or they refuse to talk. The government facilities that the ghosts are targeting refuse to offer any information, rather they are pushing for martial law that allows them to declare war against the attacking ghosts. Bruce's last lead is Jasmine Fenton, daughter of the deceased ecto-biologists Madeleine and Jack Fenton, currently imprisoned in Blackgate. 

Oh, My Humanity  T 4.466 SERIES 

In one timeline, Bruce learns about Phantom's identity as the ghost falls to pieces in his arms. In another, Bruce finds out like this. Bruce copes like he always does: by falling apart at the seams. Otherwise known as: an alternate sequel to oh, the humanity, now with more emotional impact. 

Timeline Unraveling  T SERIES 

Clockwork rescues old Bruce Wayne, Terry and Matt McGinnis, Max Gibson and Dana Tan from a collapsing timeline and brings them safely to Danny, who delivers them to a Gotham decades before most of them were born. Not only is it in the past, but it becomes obvious very quickly that this new past is drastically different. Jason's alive, the Joker's dead, Bruce has another child besides Dick, Tim and Jason, and Bruce actually goes to therapy. It's a lot of adjustment for both the timeline refugees and the people of the new timeline who are helping them. 

Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings  T SERIES 

Stumbling blindly through Gotham's night was not how Danny expected his evening to go -- but to be fair, Vlad injecting him with blood blossom extract was also NOT how he was expecting his evening to go. So it's a night of new surprises, and really Danny just wants to get away from his godfather as soon as possible before the man catches up to him, or before the blood blossom currently coursing through his veins and eating him raw killed him. Vlad is a man that likes to hide in the dark, it's unfortunate for him that Danny's learned to be a thing that hides in there too. From the corner of his unfocused eye he spots a man with horns dripping in shadows, hiding in an alleyway. Danny knows a kindred spirit when he sees one. 

Zeus' Dice  T SERIES 

Two years, almost to the day, after the Great Amity Park Tragedy finds Danny Fenton, orphaned and alone, being handed over to his newest foster parent. But, unlike the others, this foster has a secret that could bring Danny back into the hero business. Because, unlike the others, this foster is a hero himself: He is Batman. 

Ghosts Of Gotham  T 

Gotham has a ghost problem. And it's not the Amity Park kind of ghost problem. While Danny tries his hardest to stay out of the spotlight, his attempts to help the unseen population of Gotham lands him in a world of trouble. Now Bruce Wayne is offering him protection and he could be the only one with the ability to stop a new crime organisation from taking over his new home. OR People are going missing in Gotham and this new kid is keeping secrets. Bruce doesn't like this at all. 

Voices That They Left  T SERIES 

When a new ghostly enemy cost Danny Fenton the lives of his friends and family, he wasn't expecting to get adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne and move to Gotham. All he needs to do is survive two years until he can go back to live in Amity Park. Something dark is growing in him though, and it's stoking the bitterness and anger that burns inside. 

& JASON 

The Third Mother  NR 

For the past year, Jason Todd has been searching for his birth mother. There are three potential suspects for the identity of his mother. The first is an agent by the Israeli Secret Service by the name of Sharmin Rosen. The second is an assassin of world renown working under the name Lady Shiva. The third is revealed to be a false name. Dr. Sheila Haywood died before Jason was even born. When the first two leads turn out to be dead ends, Jason has only one way forward: visit Haywood's only living relative (who isn't off the grid): Her sister, Dr. Maddie Fenton. But the town of Amity Park has its own secrets, and they don't take too kindly to the Bats investigating their home... 

Chasing Shadows  T 

As Bruce Wayne begins to slowly recover from the loss of his son, two separate mysteries open up old wounds. Who is the unknown leaving clues hinting at a return to Gotham, and who is the phantom pretending to be his lost son? Is it just a coincidence they're active in Gotham at the same time? Or are they connected? 

Unearthed, Reborn  M 

24-year-old Danny isn't sure what, exactly, is going on when he stumbles on newly-formed halfa Jay in the Ghost Zone. Unfortunately, Jay can't really remember enough to give him any hints. Oh well, who needs to know their past anyway? This is Gotham; no one cares about your past here. Besides, Jay just got adopted by the weirdest trio of people he's ever met, so he's got more important things to focus on. 

Ghosts? As My Therapy Animals? More Likely Than You Think.  T 21,463 

Jason is minding his own business, picking up strange green glowing goops with eyes, and living his not-very-best life. Meanwhile the Batfamily is tracking down flying dogs, overpowered Metas calling themselves ghosts, and someone is having far too much fun with the boxes around Gotham. But this ain't about them. 

"Oh My God, I'm Becoming My Father."  T 

Dani needs money, there's only so long her human body can last without food, and she lost the credit card Sam gave her when she crash-landed in Gotham city bay. So, she decides she's going to go the one guy she knows exists in Gotham that will help a kid down on their luck no questions asked - Red Hood. Last time she'd seen Danny, he'd told her that there were rumours the Red Hood was undead, so he was the safest option for a halfa like her. So, she needed to ask *THE* undead crime lord of Gotham for a job. She didn't mean to get accidentally adopted. 

The King Who Reigns Supreme  NR 

Jason rage episodes are getting worse and the family (reluctantly) calls for help. Enter Ghost King, and whatever is up with Todd is a lot more than what anyone could imagine. 

Dead Men Walking  T 2,406 

“A knight who answers his King’s call is no interloper.” 

“Do you answer my call, Jason Todd?” The Ghost King asks. 

Before Those Hands Pulled Me From The Earth  NR 1,626 

When there was an alert about a disturbance at Jason’s grave the whole family was on edge. Or Danny wakes up in a coffin unable to faze out of it in his panic but Jason and Bruce come to his rescue 

Reaper of Heroes (DC Edition)  NR 1,527 SERIES 

Once crowned Ghost King, Danny also gains another responsibility: reaping the souls of fallen heroes. After all, who better to collect them than a former hero like himself? 

Dig Three Graves In Apartment 31c  M 15,951 SERIES 

Danny Fenton has the role of Willis Todd. There are lots of things to regret about Jason's upbringing 

You're Not Yourself When Your Hangry   G 2,803 

Sam dragged Danny to a gala in Gotham while he is exhausted from fighting his rogues and school. He at least got to smuggle a thermos full of ectoplasm in, otherwise he'd have fallen asleep by now. Meanwhile, Tim and Jason are both just as sleep deprived as Danny, but still being forced to go to the gala. Some time after arriving Tim hides and a seething Jason goes looking for him and finds a tired guy that looks like Tim who offers him a thermos. 

Batman's Cape  T 

Pain and Fear reverberate throughout the Infinate Realms, a wail rips through the air coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Meanwhile on a table the Realms King to be lay strapped down, that which should not be seen lay bare to the eyes of the two in the room. Those he once called parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton held tools that seemed to shift to the macabre glowing all the while. He made a mistake, he let his guard down. They touched it. TheytouchedithelphelphelpneedsafesafesafesafesafeDamiDamiDamiDamiDamiSafeDamisafe. Jason knew something was wrong, did he have to admit it? No. He had been hearing screems -young screams- reverberating through what sure felt like his whole body along with pain searing just under his skin for a week now on and off. Plus it didn't' help that once the pain was gone the pit would take over and he would wake up like 2 states to the west with questionably clean hands and no recolection on how he got there. 

̶G̶o̶o̶d̶ Bad Habits Run In The Family  T 

̶J̶a̶s̶o̶n̶ Red Hood found a teenager hurt in an alleyway, and since he was responsible for the people in his domain, he decided to take him back somewhere safe to take care of him. Turns out, there was a lot more to the situation than Red Hood would have ever anticipated. Including the fact that he was growing attached to the brat who seemed stubborn about everything. 

Law Of Retribution  NR SERIES 

Jason starts seeing ghosts. Danny comes back to the Living Realm for the first time since the Incident. He has a job offer for Red Hood 

Baby Ghosts And Baby Birds  T 

This is based off the prompt I made about both Danny and Jason being considered baby ghosts and being kidnapped by the other ghosts because Gotham is a bad place for babies. 

Spelunking  T 7,341 SERIES 

Danny had just arrived at Wayne Manor after losing everything and convincing Vlad to take a break from trying to mold the kid to be his perfect son. Now, Danny needs to figure out where to hide his souvenir (*soup*venir?) from the Nasty Burger explosion. While doing so, he accidentally finds the BatCave and an unmasked Red Hood. What was it with billionaires and keeping creepy underground lairs 

Zombie Prince Of The Infinite Realms  T   

On a business trip to Gotham, Danny Fenton, CEO of FentonWorks (and King of the Infinite Realms), feels something shift in the fabric of reality. Now he’s got an undead teenager whose soul doesn’t really fit his body anymore, and a whole lot of questions about why the local psychiatric facility functions as a “prison.” 

The Moon Will Sing A Song (I Love You Like The Sun)  T SERIES 

Sometimes, grief has a gravity that you never get up from. And sometimes, it leaves little boys that have glass in their teeth and punch-scraped skin with a hole in their heart and blood in their mouth, and a five-year long taste for vengeance over the murder of their best friend. Gotham claws its way into the hearts of its children and leaves oil-smears on their souls. For Danny Fenton, he is no different and no better than the rest of his fellow kids of Crime Alley. It doesn't matter if he's been gone since he was eleven. Blood has always been a part of him, so it's second nature for him to pick up his fists and turn them into claws. It's how he's been taught, after all. And what he's also been taught, is that arrogance kills, and the Joker has been long since due for his fill. What's one more death in Gotham's long list of them? 

Cradled In The Wails Of A King  T 1,491 SERIES 

Danny is in a meeting when he hears the screams of one of his most trusted guard. Dame Gotham screams until she can't anymore at the grave of a small bird, gone too soon. He checks for a soul and finds something... not so much alive as it is something dead being reanimated. Someone else to protect. 

Starling  T 

The kid went by ‘Danny Phantom’. The next file was where things got interesting. A corrupted blood sample analysis had been put through the computers, where, along with a whole host of unknown compounds and chemicals, the DNA pinged several alleles, proving a potential familial match. A familial match to him. It couldn’t be. No. But the boy looked to be about the same age as he would have been, after Jason did a quick bit of mental math. But the hair and eyes were all wrong. 

Throwdown Therapy  T 30,714 SERIES 

Danny hears about a suspicious character lurking around Gotham and decides to befriend him. Jason has no thoughts on the matter — mostly, he has a lot of empty-head green-tinged rage on the matter. This is less of a roadblock than one might expect. Danny thinks he might even be able to help the guy, if he can form enough of a relationship to bring up sensitive topics like "you have the ghostly equivalent of lead poisoning or maybe rabies, we aren't quite sure". 

Adoption Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be  T 

Danny Phantom escapes the Doctors Fenton and flees to Gotham with Jazz. Unfortunately, he looks quite similar to a certain Jason Todd around the time of his death. Kidnapped by the Batfam in a case of mistaken identity, Danny doesn’t have a good time and Jazz becomes a supervillain to look for him. 

On Any Given Day (We’re Only Six Feet Away)  T 

Jason follows a lead and finds something he wasn’t looking for. 

All I Have Is Freeze Dried Peaches and Packet Ramen, And They Aren’t Very Good But They’re all I Have  T 1,804 SERIES 

Everything’s gone. And it’s all Danny’s fault. Or; Jason finds a teenager on a roof. He assumes the worst. Or, or; Danny’s always preferred being up high. And he wasn’t so surprised by the vigilante that stopped by. He seems nice. Danny’s sorry for scaring him 

Brain Fried  NR 

Danny flees the GIW, crashing into a dumpster in Gotham. Lucky for him, another being like him finds him. Jason is confused and concerned. 

And I Turn Away To See, Proud Evening Star  T 

Jason finds Danny in an alleyway soaking wet and definitely having a fever and well, adoption genes be kicking in 

The Song Of Healing  T 2,001 

What if it wasn't the waters of the Lazarus Pitt alone that could heal someone back from the dead- but the creatures that lurk within them? Takes place during Jason's revival from the Lazarus Pitts. 

To Join The Whispers  T 55,630 SERIES 

A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts. That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else. 

At The Core  T 

Danny finds a guy with a rather sickly core. Thankfully Frostbite can probably help with that. Meanwhile the Bat family is worried that Jason has been missing for so long. 

Shrodinger’s Bat  NR SERIES 

The dirt wasn’t packed in as it should be. These graves looked fresh. Danny counted five graves like this in total. One was an outlier. Two were suspicious. But five? Someone was digging up graves in Gotham. Nearly one year after the death of Jason Todd, Danny Fenton arrives in Gotham City. Why is he there? And what does it have to do with Jason? 

Surprise Halloween Haunting  NR 2,153 

Halloween month was always chaotic for Gotham, especially for the vigilantes guarding her. This Halloween, the Batboys found themselves captured by some cult as sacrifices. Stripped off their gears and chained to a chair, Jason found himself calling for help to get out of the situation. 

& TIM 

Ghosts, Legacies, And CPS  T 

Vlad's latest and greatest plan to get Danny to be his son is really, stupidly simple. He called CPS. Annoyingly effective, Jazz began to look into their family tree to see where else Danny could go. One surprise set of adoption paperwork later reveals an entire lineage none of the Fentons knew about: the Drakes, of which the only surviving member is their cousin, Tim Drake. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so reaching out to Tim Drake it is. Meanwhile, Tim has been dealing with Ra’s al Ghul and a new player on the board calling themself Plasmius. Plasmius is a ghost, and a weird phone call reveals Tim’s related to ghost hunters, so obviously taking Danny in while CPS investigates the Fentons is just the logical outcome. Sure Bruce butts in, but ultimately, it just looks like an easy avenue for intel. Tim just didn’t anticipate Phantom and the utter chaos that comes with him. 

Bones And All  T 

Tim comes along with Sebastian and some of his friends to a supposed haunted forest on the edge of Gotham City. They quickly find out that the forest really is haunted, but Tim comes to learn there's a much larger mystery at hand. And that mystery has to do with one Danny Fenton. 

Teenage Hero Burnout #56: Interview With A Ghost.  NR 2,881 

Red Robin, (aka Tim Drake) decides to host a YouTube series called "Teenage Hero Burnout'' after he makes a video by the same name talking about his own experiences. He interviews current and past heroes who started their careers as teens and discuss how it shaped their outlook on heroing & life in general. 

Phantom In Gotham  T 

On the run from his parents, Danny Fenton hides out in Gotham and catches the attention of the Bat family. Mishap after mishap leads Danny to be living on the streets, and going to school with Tim drake, who wonders about the strange new kid in his class. Will Bruce try to adopt another blue eyed black haired kid? Who knows! 

Not Everyone Who Can Fight Is A Vigilante Or A Criminal  G 1,461 SERIES 

After a rogue attack on Gotham University’s campus, Danny and Tim notice that they both have impressive fighting skills. Danny suspects that Tim is a mob, while Tim suspects Danny is secretly a League of Shadows member and intends to gather more information about Danny. 

I Can Feel My Body Shiver  NR 

Clockwork gives him a choice: to stay in the Infinite Realms and begin his term as the High King or to start fresh in another dimension. Danny is now living in Gotham. Even if it's definitely not a resort, he hopes he can finally find some peace so far from Amity Park. Of course, one particular bird notices him. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one. 

A Bats Eye View  NR 4,736 SERIES 

Tims perspective from umm im an ambasador. 

A Chill In The Batcave  T 

The Spirit of Gotham knows two things for sure… one, The Ghost King needed protection while he recovered and was able to form outside of his core. Two, The Dark Knight and his children were the best people to protect anything. So of course, she hides Danny’s core in the Batcave. Chaos and haunting ensues. Tim Drake is almost half certain that he didn’t used to hallucinate this much, even if he hasn’t slept in three days. And he was almost one hundred percent sure that they hadn’t gained another sibling while he was sleeping. 

You're Gonna Be Sooo Haunted  T 

Tim Drake (aka red robin) accidentally "kills" a civilian while on patrol. Danny Fenton was not expecting to fall off a roof, but being the bored teen he was, decided it would be a great idea to mess with Gotham's vigilantes for a while. 

TWINcognito Mode  T 23,369 

Danny, High King of the Infinite Realms, has been tricked into inhabiting the brainwashed and soulless clone of Tim Drake-Wayne. Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Industries and Red Robin, found a clone of himself that fought against Ra's brainwashing enough to request help. So Tim and Danny, upon both being cognizant enough to be on the same wavelength, looked at each other and decided hey; it's a free twin. Now how do we make that everyone elses problem? 

A Successful Sacrifice  T 3,065 

Tim as Red Robin was killed when being sacrificed to summon Danny who was forced into his body 

Serotonin  M 3,388 SERIES 

After his Accident, Danny had been prescribed antidepressants. He... might not have taken them. It hadn't been a problem until Bruce found out about them. Tim feels the aftermath more keenly than he'd cared to admit. 

The Haunting Of Drake Manor  T SERIES 

Timothy Drake, son of amateur archaeologists, comes into possession of an antique oil lamp. It's plain enough, despite it's historic value— and it takes nothing at all to figure out how to light it. Alone on his birthday and left alone with a flame, Tim makes a wish. Desiree wakes up in the corpse of a human woman. 

Creation Both Haunted And Holy  G 11,449 SERIES 

After looking into a new tourist family in Gotham, Tim finds himself in unexpected situation. Or, the Fenton's visit Gotham and try to build a ghost portal. It goes as well as you think it would. 

A Little Overshadowing Never Hurt Anyone  T SERIES 

Danny gets kidnapped by the Batfam and seeks a way out, a little overshadowing never hurt anyone, right? 

& ALFRED 

Life Assurance  T 7,206  

Danny has inherited all contracts made with Pariah Dark but doesn’t know it until he finds himself pulling a bullet out of Bruce Wayne. In which Danny now has to negotiate with a old man over a life assurance policy he purchased. 

Glimpse Of A Lifetime  G 

After years of working for the Waynes, age is finally catching up with the butler. Alfred mind seems to be elsewhere, and he begins to forget important things. Bruce refuses to accept that and seeks every possible solution. When he is about to give up he stumbles with an ancient legend: The Yeti 

A Comet’s Flare  NR 1,582 

When Alfred hears a knock on the Manor doors, he thinks nothing of it. Bruce is still at WE for a little longer and the children of the manor at school, so he opens the heavy doors to tell the guest as such and take a message. Alfred could not tell you what it was that made his mouth dry out and his steps falter. But he could tell you with certainty that it had something to do with the way he did not gasp or feel his heart stutter in his chest. Instead, Alfred feels a wave of melancholy wash over him and steps aside to gesture the man in.  “Would you like some tea, sir?” Perhaps this was a conversation that needed tea.  He’d been putting it off for so long now. 

Of Children And Tea Parties  G 5,792 SERIES 

Alfred Pennyworth is grateful that the Wayne family wasn't murdered. He is very willing to work with Bruce to lure their savior into a warm and safe home. But does the silent child want to come? 

They Might Be Giants  G 4,397  

Alfred Pennyworth receives a phone call and is given custody over his recently orphaned nephew Danny Fenton. 

Rock In The Churning Sea  G 

Alfred is a constant, in the mansion. That’s a given. A staple of life, a steady rock, there whenever he’s needed. What few know, however, is just how much of a constant he actually is in that mansion. For there’s only few who know he’s died. 

Hold Down The (Blanket) Fort  G 1,062 SERIES 

Alfred finds his grandson awake later than he ought to be. Danny has a sweet reason why. 

How To Adopt, The Bruce Wayne Way By Alfred Pennyworth  G 1,879 

Step One, Find a child. Step Two... 

& DICK 

Flying Grason And Circus Gothica  G 4,934 

There's a new circus in town and the batfam surprise Dick by taking him to go see it. He wants to enjoy it, really he does. It's just that, he can't shake the feeling that the boy on the tightrope isn't performing willingly 

Here Lies Daniel James Fenton  NR 4,284 SERIES 

"You killed a man…" Danny twisted his mouth in distaste; that statement wasn't quite right. 

"My Friend killed a man." He got the same tight-lipped smile with dead eyes as before. 

"You killed a man." This statement was punctuated with a sharp nod as if the man had solved a tricky problem. 

Phoenix Down  T SERIES 

Danny is Dick's son. Neither take it very well, when they find out. 

The Firstborn Son  T 7,500  

Danny Phantom, a somewhat established ruler of the Ghost Zone, has unwittingly acquired a baby. And. Well. He can't exactly keep it in Pariah's Keep. He's no parent, not to mention the huge problem of how the air and sky destabilize human cellular structure. It would be convenient to have the baby's other parent take care of it... assuming that the man is entirely innocent of the plan to sell their offspring for immortality. There has to be a way to prove that the man is safer than the home the baby comes from. ...But the man has his own ward. Hm. Danny can exploit this. What's an assessment without a little test? 

The Haunting Habit Of Adoption  G 4,073 

Dick Grayson is Bruce Wayne's newest foster kid, and he is determined to convince Batman to let him be a vigilante. An unexpected visit from estranged son Damian and his surprise guest gives him the chance to change his mind. 

Loli-Kolinaki  T 

Danny doesn't remember much before he was adopted. But he remembers the Drop. God, he's beginning to remember the drop. Or, where Danny knew Desiree far, far better than before. 

Bludhaven's Ghost  T 

After he fails to save his family and friends in the nasty burger explosion, Danny Fenton runs from Amity to prevent his inevitable future. He finds himself in Bludhaven. 

Grave Promises  T 53,882 

Danny Fenton had nowhere to go and no one he could turn to without putting them in danger. Except, perhaps, the hero who'd cared for, respected, and trained Danny for all too short a time. Dick Grayson had never told anyone he'd once been trapped in the Ghost Zone. He'd also never forgotten the promise he'd made sure to get from Danny Phantom. Jason didn’t know what was going on but he was really very pissed that there was another kid with a y-shaped scar on their chest and eyes that feel like frozen reflections of home. Thankfully, there were suddenly several new targets for his rage and Dick seemed rather more inclined to join Jason than stop him. 

There’s Blood In The Water  T 

Danny, injured from a reveal gone horribly wrong, leaves Amity Park. Nightwing finds a kid bleeding out in an alley. 

Myosotis  T SERIES 

In which the one-and-only Danny Phantom gets amnesia, a new city to protect, some other vigilante friends, and a slightly-overprotective father figure. Nightwing gets premature gray hairs 

What Makes A Home (And Other Thoughts From Fever Dreams)  T 

Dick finds a strange scene on patrol one night; the small form of dying girl huddled in a corner and covered in Lazuras Pit green. He and his family work together to try and save her, but her consciousness dwindles to less and less each day and the time spent awake only provides more questions. Will they work out the mystery surrounding their new guest or will she be forced to say goodbye forever in a unfamiliar bed, surrounded by strangers? 

& DAMIAN 

Robin's Egg  T 

While out on nightly patrol, Robin finds a very injured Danny Phantom who is about to be forced back into his core. Now that the ghost boy is entirely defenseless, how is Damien going to protect the core from others? And even harder... how is going to keep Phantom's existence unknown to his family? 

When The Ghost King Moves To Gotham City  T 

Danny is taking a break from being Ghost King 24/7 so he moves to Gotham to help some ghosts and go sightseeing. However, he is now helping a little Bird spread their wings. 

Wait A Second  T 18,844 SERIES 

Danny gets mistaken for Damian at the mall, shenanigans ensue. Meanwhile Damian gets mistaken for Danny at the mall, chaos ensues. 

I'd Punch People For You Any Day Of The Week, As Long As You Keep Bringing Those Cookies And Little Baggies Of Fruit Leather And Roll-Ups, Because I Have No Will-Power When It Comes Sugar  T SERIES 

Danny punches some kid for Damian. Damian approves of this new development. Bruce is tired and worried AND suspicious. Not a great combination. Dan just wants people to stop picking on his younger brother/younger self/past self/it's complicated. 

How To Acquire A Ghost  T 1,916 

Damian jokes he has a new pet. Danny might have a new home. 

Danny Kidnaps Damian (Not Actually)  T 

Danny doesn't like being summoned, especially by the league of assassins. Those guys suck. If you're going to summon an all powerful entity at least do it right. A sandwich or something would be nice. He still wouldn't do their bidding anyway but it's the thought that counts. The one time he mentioned this to the league they offered him a child. Well. If they're offering Danny's gonna get the kid out of there. I mean really. Who in their right mind would offer him a child without laying out parameters. It was insulting really. 

FENTONS MEET THE WAYNES 

Vacation Crashers   T 91,237 SERIES 

Batman crashes in the wilderness following up a lead in a recent case. Meanwhile the Fenton family was having a camping trip to celebrate Jazz's last year as a "kid", but considering who suggested the location, it spelt disaster. Now Danny and Jazz have to survive an onslaught of ghosts, take care of an injured Batman, and while worrying about their parents. 

Family Bonding And Other Perilous Pursuits  G  

It started with Casper High failing to fail, resulting in winning the Thomas & Martha Wayne contest despite their best efforts not to, causing them to spend the summer as interns in Gotham. According to Danny, the miserable expirence ended after he spent the whole summer getting kidnapped because the average Gothomite was blind and couldn't tell apart a sixteen from a thirteen year old which went to it's logical extreme of him putting the Joker on life support after the clown stabbed Damian Wayne and his whole class nearly getting adopted by the Red Hood after they somehow took out the Russian mafia. According to the birth certificate Bruce found, this was still very much the beginning and why oh why did he always get surprise relationships?! And no he was not panicking, shut up dear children. The only one not freaking out is Damian who is eager to finally have a blood family member(s?) he doesn't have to worry about trying to kill him or usurp his place as the blood son. 

Going Rogue!  G 

The Fentons visit Gotham for a spot of summer research. It goes about as well as you'd expect... 

The City Never Makes Us Beg  G 2,661 

The Nightingales appear in the Bowery one day in the summer. There had been no moving truck, no arduous trips carrying boxes and furniture up the five flights of stairs to their apartment, no picking up keys from the super. There hadn’t been any paperwork done either, for that matter. They had simply appeared, fully settled into an apartment that had been empty for three years. The Nightingales moved to the Bowery one day in the summer. Hauling up furniture and boxes the five stories of steps to their apartment. The one they'd been lucky to get thanks to a mistake that hadn't been caught until it was too late. A broken family, trying to put the pieces back together after hardship, keep their heads down, get through the days. Same as anyone else this side of the city. There was no reason to pay much attention, save perhaps Jason's interest in tall women with red hair that looked like they could throw him across the street. The Nightingales were a normal family. Gotham made sure of it. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Creep Minecraft World

I've mentioned before how they have a Minecraft world they all play on, and I wanted to actually just randomly talk about it :p

At least several times a month, they all get together to play on their Minecraft world together. Sometimes a few people might be missing or absent, but they try to have as many people playing at a time as they can. Things I've already established, BEN is the one who builds cool houses for everyone (I'm adding on that they're all set up like a villager village, so they're all connected by paths and near each other like a housing development), Jeff helps people the most with mining, and Toby and Sally are both working together to make a zoo for all of the animals they come across with nice surroundings so they can all be happy in there. Now, back to my expanding on it.

I think that they all probably split into groups on who does what, and some people will just tag in whenever they want to. BEN, Liu, Helen, and Brian are the designated builders of the world. They're really good at building and have an eye for making pretty designs, so generally, that's what they spend their time doing. Jeff, Natalie, Kate, and Tim are the designated miners in the world. They had built like a whole mining system and are constantly expanding it to collect more and more materials together. Both groups work together to help each other out, and the rest of the creeps are free to join a team if they'd like to so that they can help out more, but they usually just follow the instructions of the established team members. Toby and Sally as I said earlier are committed to building a zoo, and they name every single animal that they put in there. Sometimes others will help with building or getting animals in there (they have also been allowed to use creative mode to get animals or build something if they need to), and it's situated near the housing area so that everyone can just walk over and look at the progress when they want to. Generally, they all work really well together in their teams, but sometimes they do have disagreements.

Speaking of disagreements, one of the world rules is that keep inventory has to be on, mostly because there was a point when they kept going around killing each other and then they'd get mad because they'd lose their stuff, and fights would happen, so keep inventory has to be on so that now if they die or kill each other, nobody can be upset. (That started because Jeff and Tim would push each other into lava whenever they were in the mines and disagreed on something). They haven't even gotten very far into the Nether yet because they all keep dying or killing each other. Also, nobody is allowed to alter or destroy anything that someone else has made (even if they think it looks really bad and they want to change it to make it look better, cough cough, Helen, cough cough) so that everyone can have their own little area that they build in and they don't have to worry about the safety of the work. I think they also all have an "open chest" policy where they each have one chest with a sign above it that says open, so that if someone is missing or really needs certain supplies they can take from someone else's open chest that has extra stuff they don't really need in it. I'd like to think they also go on like planned attack expeditions, like if they find an area that has a warden they'll all team up to try to fight the warden together (they rarely succeed because everyone is just screaming and yelling and running and laughing), or they'll all fight the ender dragon together, or a wither. Also??? So many mods. BEN has added so many mods to the world and he and everyone else get so much enjoyment out of it. It can be chaotic sometimes, but the Minecraft world is one of the few things everyone can actually usually get along with about, so it's a good bonding experience for them.

[pricegouge]

Haul

Part Seven MDNI

master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

cw: abuse. like a lot. it's bad. idk how to tag it but i don't want to blindside anyone so: they play at drowning reader.

One of them is always home. That's the important part. Which is why it takes you a minute to realize when the ringing of the landline above you goes on too long, each shrill call rousing you slowly, dulled by layers of soundproofing and the fog of your depressive rest. You crumble when you roll over, stare apathetically up at the cobwebs above you and will Price to answer the damn thing already, then cock your head in confusion as another ten rings sound off, undisturbed. When it does die off, it's a slow peter out instead of the abrupt stall mid-ring, like when John plucks it from the receiver with an impatient hand. Whoever was on the other end has hung up, sick of waiting on an answer that wasn't coming. Was John out? Were they all out?

A potential way out of the warehouse won't do much good if you don't have a way out of your room, but it's hard to test the limits of your enclosure without tipping John off, now that you know for certain he is watching. So instead, you watch back, carefully documenting the movements of each of the boys. Dissecting patterns you'd noticed in the past but not thought much of. They handle you in shifts, when available, and visit you as a team more often than not. As far as you can tell, they do not relock the door after themselves when inflicting themselves upon your room. You're sure this speaks to the impossibility of the lock, and their disinterest in tempting fate, but it also speaks to their confidence in their ability to physically retain you themselves if it comes to it - and they've given you no reason to doubt it yet. Sometimes, when inclined to keep yourself up at night, you think about all the women who've come before you, all the trial and error the boys must have gone through to arrive at this risky procedure, and pinning your hope on ambushing one of them when they come fetch you for breakfast sounds more and more like a good way to have your corpse scavenged by coyotes off some disused highway in Southern Nebraska. And you're not ready for that easy-out, at least not yet.

So you mentally map the warehouse instead; every inch of it that you've seen, at least. The small area with pallet racking where the overhead doors spell deceptively easy freedom, the attached kitchen area and the office space off of it. There's a short hallway past the bathroom lined with closed doors. Your best assumption is that this is where the boys sleep, though you've yet to be trusted in their rooms. They let slip stories sometimes however, past girls they've made warm their beds. They phrase it as a treat, a privilege to look forward to. When you note the absence of locks on the outsides of the doors, you almost agree.

You have options, when you get creative. In addition to the hope for a night behind an unlocked door, there are times when they turn their backs on you a beat too long, or when they forget to parade you around the warehouse with a hand on your back. It would just take one sidestep to start, a quick dart out of their reach before the most high stakes game of hide and seek ever played. There's plenty of places to lose yourself in the warehouse, especially if you can time it to coincide with a day when most of them are out on jobs, or asleep. The problem with that, however, is, aside from John, none of them seem to have very dependable schedules, and you don't want to miss one of very few opportunities to hitch a ride with another trucker if you're biding your time for a chance to escape when fewer people are home, just to let months pass and find there are no such chances. It's not something you can bank on anyway, not when you've no way of keeping track of them. You do try to, though, carefully rehashing your deck of cards so that the suites read off like a flush, ace through king, before re-counting out the days in your passed pile. Now whenever a full suite changes you'll know you've been there another two weeks, and some change. (Is that a fortnight? The itch you get for the internet always strikes you at the weirdest times.) With that in place, you create a system of particular notches to tear into the cards to denote what days which boys are missing. But when the deck runs out and you've still not discerned a pattern, you give up on maintaining your marks.

One of them is always home. That's the important part. Which is why it takes you a minute to realize when the ringing of the landline above you goes on too long, each shrill call rousing you slowly, dulled by layers of soundproofing and the fog of your depressive rest. You crumble when you roll over, stare apathetically up at the cobwebs above you and will Price to answer the damn thing already, then cock your head in confusion as another ten rings sound off, undisturbed. When it does die off, it's a slow peter out instead of the abrupt stall mid-ring, like when John plucks it from the receiver with an impatient hand. Whoever was on the other end has hung up, sick of waiting on an answer that wasn't coming.

Was John out? Were they all out?

When the telephone rings again, you about jump out of your skin. It's annoying, a noise you can see when it rattles around your skull and that familiar blind spot blooms in your bad eye. You rub the tension from your temples delicately, not for the first time wondering if this is just something you'll have to live with now. Agitated, you pull yourself from the bed and grab the stool to bang on the ceiling, as if your upstairs neighbor is being quite inconsiderate. Of course, even if they do hear you, they do nothing to fix the situation because they don't care, or because they like torturing you. Probably both. So you try your own switch, the one that rings a separate phone upstairs - the one they've never yet ignored except when punishing you rather severely. 

Only, they ignore it now - the dual ringing of the receivers thrumming in your eardrums, stirring ill-advised thoughts to the surface.

For the first time since arriving, it's possible no one's watching. 

Fuck, you hadn't accounted for this. In all your imaginative planning, you'd never considered what you could do from your little cell because the obvious answer is, nothing. Even with no one home and no one to stop you from just walking out, there's not a damn thing you can do. The locks don't magically give when you try them; no window manifests above the foundation level for you to pull yourself out through. You kick the door out of frustration, and then bite your lips in fear when you realize that John might see that when he reviews the tapes later and get mad that you've damaged his door for no reason, because even if you somehow manage to force the lock bolts clean through the frame, there's still the trap door at the top of the stairs which you're fairly certain they padlock when you're below. You can just see them now, laughing cruelly as you fail to break the reinforced frame from the rotted sash, their faces glowing in the pale light from whatever outdated CRT screen they probably still -.

Now there's a thought. One that will likely get you punished more severely than you have yet, but perhaps worth it all the same.

If you can find the surveillance equipment and trash it before they get home in time to stop you, you could spend your days doing useful things, like fashioning weapons, or working out so you stand a better chance of outrunning them when you decide to make a break for it. 

If they let you keep functioning limbs.

Your hands shake when you make up your mind, rifling through the room like a madman. There aren't many fixtures in which to hide something, but with the exposed rafters you can see clearly enough that it's not some average dome camera. Tearing everything you can away from the walls, you search first through the mounted furniture, trying to find where any cords might run through the walls. You think you've got it when you flick the desk legs and find them hollow, imagining the feedline tunneling down through your unfinished floor, but a thorough inspection reveals nothing out of the ordinary, and the more you think about it, the less sense it makes that John could have known about your little card trick if the camera was set up close enough that such activity would have likely been out of frame. 

The ringing finally stops when you turn back toward the bed - abrupt, yanked from the receiver. Fear courses through you like icewater, spilling over your skin in a wave of goosebumps. You could stop now, hunker in bed and pretend nothing happened. But if the camera wasn't in the desk, it's likely in the bed frame - the only other mounted piece of furniture - which means it very much did see you, transmitted every second of your frantic search for something, and if they come asking about your odd behavior and you've no explanation, you're going to get the same punishment you would have anyway, without the added benefit of having blinded them.

Over your head, John's raspy laugh booms dully through the ceiling, and your temple aches with it. 

Fuck it, an eye for an eye.

Adrenaline high, you work more efficiently than you would have thought possible even just moments ago. Figuring that if you were a collection of sick monsters with a little pet caged in your basement, you'd want a good view of their bed, you try the head post first, the one in the corner which would allow them to see the room nearly in its entirety. It's a cheap frame. Metal, so they can mount bindings to it, probably, but unreliably assembled, especially when the cap piece is missing a screw, replaced instead by a pin-prick camera. 

Your thumb finds the hollow texture first, the second socket you try. You duck down to be sure, and smile cheekily at the glint of glass you find there, a dark hole in the brass fixture you're upset you've never noticed before. The cap puts up little fight when you yank on it, the decorative piece held in place only by tiny, eighth-inch screws. After the first one dislodges, the thin trim of the post bends enough you can peel the whole thing back like a sardine lid, and you peer inside the hollow of the post to find the bulk of the camera, corded down through the floor much as you'd expected. After the struggle of the cap piece, the camera and its mount look like no trouble at all, except you can't quite reach it, fist too fat to properly fit through the opening and you hiss in frustration, shoving your hand through until the warped metal and the dangling screw bite into your flesh. 

Retreating with a huff, you cast about for some sort of tool to use and freeze when you think you hear the quiet sound of the trap door opening. Stillness follows, so vital you think your heart even stops beating, every cell in your body waiting for the familiar tread of heavy boots on the top step. The moment drags on, long enough you begin to doubt yourself, long enough your lungs heave from disuse when the tread finally lands, and John begins his descent. 

No time. No time. Your knuckles catch first on the metal but it's no matter, not when you keep shoving past it, feel the raw edge dig into the heel of your hand. You gasp in pain, fingers slipping over the edge of the camera when the blood begins to flow down your palm but you grit your teeth through another push, breath laboring through a grimace more than a smile when you finally catch the mount in a firm grip and yank, tossing the little electronic on the floor and stomping on it, barefoot and wincing, just as John finally disengages the last lock, swinging the door open to find you, panting and successful, leaning over the broken remnants like Ali over Liston. 

***

It's a short-lived victory.

Turns out you weren't home alone, the boys all sidling through the side door where Johnny had sprayed you down when John calls for them, dragging you through the warehouse by your hair and weathering the viscous kicks you land on him with insultingly little reaction. You yell in frustration when they filter through the door, try to drown out the sound of John's barked orders with a shriek of your own. It earns you a hard slap and nothing more, your head whipping around so fast you don't see when Simon's arms wrap around your waist, tilt your world on its side as he drags you to the bathroom.

The faucet is already running, the water filling the tub so frigid that it emanates, soothes the ache in your fist even as you make it worse, clawing at the hands which disrobe you unceremoniously. You don't truly start to panic until Johnny squeezes in after as well, frame so wide he jostles everyone to the edges of the room so he can hand John a length of rope, fibrous and coarse, before slipping away again, lingering in the frame with Kyle.

Your eyes dart from the cord to the tub, a halfhearted shiver running through you as you try to dislodge Simon one last time. John notes your sudden docility with a humorless smile, taking in the blood on your hand and foot disinterestedly. "Did that to herself," he tells his assembled audience blandly, even though they didn't ask. He stands too close over Simon's shoulder, stares you down as he asks if they can guess what you did. In the stretch of silence that follows, John prompts you to fill them in with a thick, arched brow.

"Smashed the camera in my room," you whisper, voice drowned out by the thundering of water from the tub. 

"Not so brave now, are you?" John snarls, his hand reaching around Simon viper-quick to bury itself at your scalp, wrenching your head to look at the boys crowded in the doorframe. Kyle has the decency to look mildly concerned, but Johnny's eyes are alight with the same mania you'd seen in him the night he killed Ash. Your voice is stronger than you expect it to be when you answer, a level of spite you didn't know you were capable of. 

"I smashed the camera in my room."

Johnny just laughs. "Now why would ye go an' do a daft thing like tha'?"

Snark sits on your tongue, slips blessedly down the back of your throat when John crowds behind you, tips your head back into his shoulder so he can press his teeth too far into the tender arch of your cheek. "Because she's not so fuckin' smart. Simon." John shoves at your shoulder until you face the other man completely, nose pressed into the hard plane of his sternum. "Hold her still."

Simon's arms are like a steel cage when they wrap around your shoulders, pinning your elbows back behind your waist as far as you can manage. You stamp on his foot on instinct, bloodied sole scraping over the eyelets of his boots. John just kicks your ankle savagely, bodies himself between your legs. The rope smarts when he weaves it between your forearms, a ladder of ties running from your elbows to your hands which do not give an inch when you test them. John yanks the remaining length like a leash after fashioning them too-tightly around your wrists, the knobs of your carpels bulging as blood pools in your fingertips, the trickle of blood from your palm pulsing.

You only know he's crouched behind you when Simon lifts and a callused hand wraps around your bare ankle, the rough saw of jute following after. Panicked, you kick wildly, but John dodges the first and catches your free leg under his armpit on the second. When you wriggle, Simon just crushes you to his chest until your breath wheezes from you and John ties his first knot much too short, your back straining with the arch he's forced.

The way he manhandles your last limb into place despite your struggles would be embarrassing, if you weren't too preoccupied by the growing pit of fear in your belly, or the way it's so hard to breathe when Simon bears all your weight with a compressing grip around your chest. It makes your head throb, vision darkening in your bad eye where it was already struggling after John's slap. So it's nearly a relief when John takes some of your weight, his hands wrapping around your calves with bruising force. Simon shuffles his grip, your body tilting dangerously forward until his big hands wrap around your upper arms. You dangle between them as they turn toward the tub, and then you watch, upside down and one-eyed, as John hikes a leg up over to the far ledge of the bath and they begin to lower you, face first. 

You scream when your hips sink past the frigid surface first, Simon lowering your top half quick enough that water floods your mouth and you arch your back as much as you're able, spitting and gurgling as your head breaches the surface. With the faucet still running, the water rushes around you, splashing over the side as you twist about, trying to get your knees under yourself. A sharp crack sounds behind you, and you turn to find its source just as John canes you over the ass with a broken off broom handle, Johnny tossing the head of it down the hall. 

Crying out, you tip forward again and panic when you crash through the water, more so when your knees jerk back and your nose slams off the basin. You feel your restraints being pulled back - hard, and harder - before suddenly slackening, just a touch. Not enough to let you get your knees back under yourself.

Your back aches with the strain of pulling yourself up, shoulders bearing most of your weight. You gasp when you pull your head above water, engage your biceps enough to keep yourself there while you test your restraints. From the corner of your eye, you see the broom handle overhanging the edge of the tub, laid flat across the top to keep you suspended by your bindings, must be. Sputtering, you try to orient yourself, figure out the depth of your situation by reminding yourself it's only a tub, and not that deep. But the arch it forces your spine to maintain, and the stress of disused muscles after months of atrophy just laying about combine with the frigid cold to conspire against you, leave you too shivery and weak to maintain the hold for long and you relax just a touch, mouth still above level, just to flinch back up when the bubbling of the surface splashes into your nose, makes you cough. 

Over the thundering of the pipes, you hear a familiar growl, too close to your ear. "Don't look so fucking clever now."

"John, please," you sob, twisting until you can see his shoulder in your peripheral, Johnny's eager face beyond it.

"Shut the fuck up," John hisses, dunking your head back under with a heavy palm on the back of your head. He lets you squirm for what feels like minutes, only dragging you back up when your panicked movements slow. You swallow more water than you spit out when he pulls you back up, breaths ripping through your esophagus like white water rapids. 

Over the sound of your coughing, Kyle's voice is loud and patronizing when he asks why you had to go and ruin a good thing. "Thought we were all getting along, luv. What drove you to do such a stupid thing?"

You want to tell him to go fuck himself, can't for the water pouring from your nose. Probably for the best.

"We feed you, clothe you, bathe you," John ticks each item off with a quick dunk beneath the surface, just enough to feel the sting of water. Johnny laughs at the last one, throws a bar of soap into the tub. "And you show us your thanks by breaking my expensive fucking camera?"

It seems foolish, in retrospect, the possibility that they could simply replace it - tonight, even - only occurring to you now, now that the urgency of a snap decision has worn off and you're faced with the repercussions you'd shrugged off earlier. 

They might kill you. You might drown in a dirty trucker tub.

John drops you as if disgusted and you fight to pull yourself up again, your hip glancing off the bar of soap when you finally get it and dropping you back under. John waits patiently for you to resurface, watches as you cough up as much as you can before speaking again. "Shoud just fucking leave you there."

You don't realize you're crying until your breath rips out in a sob of fear, the tears blending with the bathwater. It shouldn't be a relief when Johnny pipes up.

"Ach, if ye wan' tae kill her, at least let us have some fun wi' it."

Response barely audible over the water, you strain your ear to hear John's low pitch. "What did you have in mind?"

Johnny's eager, answer too ready. "Nothin' wrong wi' a good chase."

"Si's favorite," John agrees, contemplative.

"If we kill her, we have to find a new one," Simon counters, sounding almost bored. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"Gotta agree with Ghost," Kyle offers. "Kinda like this one, when she's not being a bitch."

You measure the silence in heartbeats, your vision tunneling with each dull thump in your chest. When John speaks again, he's deliberately louder, voice carrying enough that you don't have to strain to hear. "Alright. Compromise. We'll have a good chase, but winner gets to decide what we do with her." He leans close, his next words spoken against the shell of your ear. "So you'd best hope it's not Johnny who catches you."

[spaceman-earthgirl]

“Agatha and Rio arrived at school together this morning,” Jen says by way of greeting, dropping her books on the table and joining Alice and Lilia.

Alice looks up, half intrigued, but Lilia keeps her head down, ignoring Jen except for a little wave in greeting.

It’s before school, and the staff room is mostly empty, giving them plenty of space to gossip before the school day starts. Though not a lot of time, the bell for first period is about to ring so they better make this quick.

“When you say ‘arrived together’ do you mean they got out of the same car, or just walked into the building together?" Alice asks.

Jen deflates a little. “I saw them walk into the building together.”

“Then that proves nothing,” Alice says, returning to her book too.

It’s been a hot topic of discussion over the last few months, what’s going on between the two of them, ever since Alice had seen them in the hallway together, Agatha laughing at something Rio said. 

The way Alice tells it, Rio even touched Agatha’s arm, but that detail was added after a few retellings so Jen isn’t so sure about that part.

Either way, ever since they noticed, they can’t stop speculating, because even just the few times Jen has seen them interact since, there’s definitely been a vibe.

Lilia has repeated on multiple occasions that she thinks they’re together, but they need proof.

And Jen is determined to find it.

---

“Someone sent Agatha flowers.”

Jen grins, Alice always gets the good gossip.

“Who are they from?” Jen asks. There’s a pile of homework she needs to grade before her next class but this is more important.

“I’m not sure, I was in the main office when they got delivered. I managed to sneak a look at the card but all it had on it was a little green heart.”

Jen thinks about this for a minute. “A secret admirer perhaps? Maybe even one who teaches biology a few doors down.”

“There’s no way to prove that,” Alice says, but she still looks on board with this information.

“What if we just ask Agatha?” Jen asks, keeping a straight face for as long as she can before she bursts out laughing, Alice, and even Lilia joining in.

“It’d be your funeral,” Alice says.

And Jen knows it would be.

Agatha is snarky and no bullshit and you always want her on your side in an argument. There’s no way she’s risking Agatha’s bad side.

When she’d first met Agatha, she’d wondered why someone like her would even want to be a teacher, and then she’d actually seen her with her students and she’d changed her mind. Agatha might be scary, but she has a way with kids that Jen didn’t expect.

Maybe it’s the no bullshit thing that kids respect, but whatever it is, the kids love Agatha and she seems to love them too.

But there is still no way she’d ever ask Agatha about her personal life. From what Jen can gather from their limited interactions is that Agatha is a private person, and she’s not going to question that.

She really hopes Agatha never finds out that their favourite way to spend their lunch break is gossip about her and the chemistry she clearly has with Rio.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

---

“I just saw Agatha and Rio having lunch together in Agatha’s classroom.”

They really don’t greet each other normally anymore, they just spill gossip. She hopes the other teachers don’t overhear them. Or if they do, they have gossip to contribute.

“I knew it,” Jen says, like that’s the proof they needed when in fact it proves nothing except the fact that they’re friends.

Which they knew already, so that’s not news. They've seen them together enough to know that they're friends, which only adds fuel to their speculation because Agatha doesn't have any other friends at school besides Rio.

“And they were sharing a sandwich,” Alice adds.

Ok, that might be something. 

“’Lady and the tramp’ style?” Jen asks, because that’s the first thought that pops into her mind when Alice says it and she also knows Alice will hate her question.

As expected, she gets a withering gaze in return. “No not ‘lady and the tramp’ style, they were sharing a sandwich like normal people do, Rio handed Agatha half of her sandwich, but that’s all I glimpsed as I walked by.”

“I mean, that’s kind of something I guess?” Jen says. “Lilia, back me up?”

Lilia barely looks up from the book she’s buried in. “You already know my opinion on the matter, but that alone proves nothing.”

“I’m adding that to the list of signs they’re dating,” Jen decides after some thought. It doesn’t really prove anything either way, but she’s going to figure it out.

---

“Guess who is chaperoning the school lock in tonight together?” Jen asks. She feels like this is good information.

“I’m guessing Agatha and Rio?” Alice answers, taking a carrot stick from the container Jen offers. 

“As well as about 10 other teachers,” Lilia pipes in, ruining the fun.

Lilia is still firmly in the camp of “they’re definitely together, and why bother gossiping about someone else’s personal life?” but even she sometimes gets involved. She’d been the one that noticed Rio wearing a shirt she swears up and down she’d seen Agatha wear before.

But maybe they just shop at the same place, so that proved nothing either.

“Are either of you two chaperoning?” Jen asks. When they were taking volunteers, she’d said no. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being locked in the gym overnight with a bunch of kids. 

Agatha doesn’t usually volunteer for school activities either, which is why this is a little suspicious.

“No,” Alice says as Lilia shakes her head.

Damn, she wishes she’d volunteered now, they might’ve gotten some good intel.

On Monday, they get no information from any of the other teachers because she’s pretty sure no one else is as invested as they are so that’s a bust.

---

Jen is halfway through her sandwich when Agatha walks into the staff room. She watches in surprise as Agatha crosses the room, takes a seat at the only empty table and pulls out her lunch.

“Do you think they’ve had a fight?” Alice asks, as quietly as she can. There’s no need to ask who she’s talking about, they all know.

They’re all fairly certain that Agatha and Rio spend every lunch break together, so why not today?

The logical answer is that she’s busy so Agatha is eating alone but gossip and speculation isn’t logical.

A couple minutes later, Rio walks in and the imaginative side of Jen’s brain runs away with her, to the point that by the time Rio has crossed the room, Jen is expecting a fight because in her mind they’ve broken up, but all Rio does is sit down next to Agatha and pull out her own food.

Jen deflates a little. Not that she’d wanted a fight, but it at least meant they might get some drama.

That doesn’t stop her from watching them though. As subtly as she can, of course. She can see Alice and Lilia doing the same, all three looking for clues to whether something is going on between them or not.

But it’s about as boring as watching anyone else each lunch. All they’re doing is talking and eating and Jen is just starting to wonder if maybe they’re reading too much into things when it happens.

Jen can’t see from where she’s sitting what Agatha is eating, but whatever it is, it must be messy enough for Agatha to get something on her face. Rio reaches out and wipes her thumb across Agatha’s lips, removing whatever food was there, before bringing the thumb to her own mouth to lick it clean.

Alice immediately clutches Jen’s arm, clearly just having seen it too.

They (again, subtly) watch in silence until Agatha and Rio get up and leave not long later, nothing else eventful happening after the incidentTM.

“Did you see that?” Alice asks as soon as Agatha and Rio are gone.

“That is not 'just friends’ behaviour,” Jen says, still in shock at what they’d witnessed. Maybe there was something to this after all.

“I mean-“ Alice starts, like she’s about to justify it.

“No. Do you ever do that with your friends?”

“No,” Alice says, her cheeks going red.

“Exactly. So we’re adding this to the list of evidence that they’re dating.” Not that that list is very long, but if they’re not dating, then they’re clearly into each other, evidenced not just by what Rio had done, but by the fact that Agatha hadn’t punched her afterwards.

---

It’s early, earlier than she’d usually arrive at school, but they have a school spirit event today so they’d all arrived early to set up their classrooms.

But before that, Jen needs coffee.

There are a few other teachers on campus, all trying to get an early start on the day, so she’s not surprised when they walk into the staff room and find they’re not alone.

What she very much is surprised by, however, is that the two people in the room are Agatha and Rio.

And they’re kissing.

It’s a fairly chaste kiss, as far kisses go, which is probably good considering they’re at school. But Agatha is pressed close to Rio, Rio crowded against the counter.

At least their hands are in appropriate places.

The noise of the door closing must alert them to the fact that they’re not alone as they break the kiss and turn towards the noise.

“Morning,” Rio smiles, giving a small wave. She makes no move to push Agatha away though and Agatha doesn’t move either. Agatha does give a flippant wave in their direction which Jen is assuming is also a hello.

Clearly, they don’t care that they’ve been caught because Rio turns back to Agatha, saying something too quietly for them to hear but whatever it is, Agatha laughs.

Jen will blame the lack of coffee and the fact that they’ve been speculating about this for months for her next words.

“You two are together?” Jen asks before she can stop herself. There definitely was a more tactful way to ask that but it’s too late.

“I told you,” Lilia says, as Agatha and Rio turn back to them, finally stepping apart. Lilia pays everyone no mind as she walks across the room and starts making herself a coffee.

Jen ignores her, too focused on the two women on the other side of the room.

Agatha looks mad now, which is a little scary, but Rio looks amused.

“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, voice gruff, and Jen is starting to have regrets. But they’re in this now, and there’s only one way to find out the truth.

“We just…” Jen looks to Alice for support, but she holds her hands up in a way that says ‘don’t make me a part of this’. 

Traitor.

“We’d just noticed you two spending a lot of time together and you obviously have chemistry so we couldn’t help wondering if something was going on.”

Rio looks even more amused, and there’s a slight quirk to Agatha’s lips too which means she’s at least not contemplating killing her right now.

“You know nothing exciting ever happens in Westview,” Jen adds, like it justifies their actions. “It was just idle gossip.”

“Well, Rio starts. “You know, I saw Agatha and I just couldn’t stay away. I’ve been trying to get her to go on a date with me all year, it was those sexy reading glasses that-

Agatha gives Rio a slight shove, pushing her away and cutting her off. Agatha still doesn’t look mad at least. “We’re married,” Agatha says with a roll of her eyes, but the look is directed at Rio.

“See, I just couldn’t stay away,” Rio grins, gesturing to Agatha. “All she did was ask me one little question and now I’m hers fore-“

“Stop,” Agatha cuts in, giving Rio another playful shove but she’s looking at Rio with such affection that no one could deny them being in love. “Or else you’re walking home.”

Rio holds her hands up in surrender with a grin.

“You’re married?” Jen finally asks, incredulous. She almost feels like she’s intruding on something.

How on earth did they miss that?

“We’ve been married for eight years,” Agatha supplies, looking a little annoyed again. It’s very clear that the annoyance is directed at them, and not Rio. “It’s not a secret, everyone knows.”

Jen’s mouth drops open. 

“Or we thought everyone did.” Rio says, taking Agatha’s hand, threading their fingers together. “We have a kid too, if that helps,”

Jen feels each new piece of information like a physical blow. She needs to lie down, this is too much this early in the morning.

They clearly missed a lot.

“Come on,” Rio says, giving Agatha’s hand a tug. “Let’s leave these guys to whatever it is they’ve got going on here.”

“Sorry,” Jen says, having the decency to look sheepish as Agatha and Rio walk past them.

Even more so when Agatha stops and turns to them. 

“Maybe next time, don’t gossip about people behind their backs. If you have a question, just ask.”

“You heard the lady,” Rio winks, tugging on Agatha’s hand once more and then they’re alone again.

Jen and Alice wait a few short moments, making sure Agatha and Rio are out of earshot before they turn to each other.

“Oh my God,” Jen says, at the same time Alice says “I thought Agatha might hit you there for a moment.”

“I told you so,” Lilia says, carefully setting down three cups of coffee on their usual table.

She’s a lifesaver.

“I’m sorry, you did,” Jen says, gratefully accepting the mug. “Next time, I’ll believe you.”

“I can’t believe we missed it, all this time,” Alice says, looking equally grateful for her drink.

“Technically we missed nothing, we thought something might be going on and we were right.”

Jen is sticking by the fact that they got this one right.

“Yeah,” Alice says. “But married for eight years is a little different than wondering if two people are dating.”

Jen waves her off. “Details. But don’t think I will forget that you basically threw me under the bus there.”

Alice is the one who looks sheepish now. “Sorry, but she’s scary.”

Jen won’t deny that. “So, who’s going to be our next source of gossip? We’re going to need something new to talk about.”

Alice rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest, which is either because she’s too tired this early, or because she wants the gossip too.

Probably both.

“What about your love life?” Jen teases, earning a glare from Alice that she knew was coming. So, what? It’s easy to wind her up.

“Don’t you dare,” Alice warns.

“Fine,” Jen laughs. She’s sure they’ll find something else to gossip about, at least for now they’ve solved the Agatha and Rio mystery. 

Which wasn’t really a mystery after all, because it was common knowledge.

Apparently they were just the last to find out.