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tossawary · 4 years ago

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Chapter 24: “Seeing is Believing” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines and commentary. Not a full list or full commentary, but longer commentary than usual to talk about quest construction.

AN: This was... a weird chapter to write. When I started outlining, I had... the conversation with Shen Qingqiu planned... the conversation with Shen Yuan planned... the fact that SQH, SY, LQG, and LFL was the quest party... and the fact that they get the Eye at the end of it. That was everything.

The entire rest of this chapter came together FRIDAY LAST WEEK.

Huan Hua Palace wasn’t going to be there. The Weeper didn’t exist. The Eye or its previous owner wasn’t at all connected to the Garden Master. The Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders didn’t exist. The murder plant didn’t exist. The mysterious monster showing up at the end wasn’t originally planned either.

I mean, I had a lot of pre-existing plot threads to tie in and weave with, but ohhh boy! Picture someone lying facedown on a floor like, “I forgot to plan the contents of the super important quest...”

I was originally going to have the Eye quest a lot simpler, but given the weight “Death of the Author” had when I finally reached this part of the story, that wasn’t really going to do! It had to be bigger than that! It needed oomph! This also felt like a good opportunity to really establish the new SQH-SY dynamic. To explore SY fumbling to find a place in this world without strict character role, especially in relation to settled and well-supported SQH.

“One attempts to remain dignified,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “As there is little point in kicking and screaming about how such ignobility isn’t fair.”

“Ha! Is there ever?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not cute when I do it,” Shang Qinghua jokes.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips actually twitch at that.

Success?!

AN: I wasn’t going into this fic with the intention of writing any Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu almost friendship! But it started developing and it seemed a shame not to explore Shang Qinghua developing a real relationship with Shen Qingqiu (though not a particularly close one) when the man is suppose to be the scum villain (and the readers know that the man might get replaced by Shen Yuan).

I can see myself writing more Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu content in the future. Someone dropped a particularly nice prompt for them in my inbox that I’m looking forward to exploring at some point.

(I mean, not to say that Shang Qinghua has a type, but Shang Qinghua has a type and it’s handsome, deadly, intimidating, frosty men with a villainous character design and trust/abandonment and communication issues. I could make it work.)

“Ah, well, two ‘ideal’ situations come to mind: severing the personal relationship for good… or, ah, talking about how to do better and trying that. You don’t have to forget or even forgive if you don’t want to! But, ah… there’s got to be a difference between totally swallowing your anger and cutting ties forever, right?” Shang Qinghua says awkwardly. “If there’s… ever going to be anything good afterwards…”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him for a sweat-inducing length of time.

“Ah, fuck,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Ahhh, I’m just… thinking about something someone told me… in… in regards to some of my own problems. Never mind! Never mind!”

AN: Luo Jiahui really is out here making Moshang and Qijiu get their fucking act together just by setting a better example.

“Shizun, my apologies for the interruption, but I came to ask Shizun if he would be willing to join our music lesson today? The disciples have missed his playing and are eager to present their improvements.”

“...Very well, unless anyone here would disagree…?” Shen Qingqiu looks directly at the Qian Cao Peak cultivator, as though daring her to object and die.

“It’s an excellent suggestion!” the Qian Cao Peak cultivator says quickly.

The young woman smiles. “And perhaps Shizun could sit in on the calligraphy lesson afterwards? In order to offer his opinion on my progress as a teacher?”

“Fishing for compliments is unbecoming,” Shen Qingqiu says dryly.

“Wait, what?” Shang Qinghua thinks.

AN: So, this has all been happening in the background, but Shen Qingqiu accepted this House of Rejuvenation woman onto his Peak about... 6-ish years ago now? This is kind of meant to parallel Shang Qinghua’s once-secret relationship with Luo Jiahui.

Shang Qinghua was out here trying to be a better person and Shen Qingqiu noticed; now Shen Qingqiu has his own positive (platonic) relationship with a nameless background character who was meant to die for plot reasons. What a thing, huh? If the story was saved because Shang Qinghua started a domino effect of saving random people who went on to change things?

After all, as Shang Qinghua said to the kid, besides Peerless Cucumber’s apparent talent for cultivation, he knows that his fellow transmigrator has three very important skills that will serve him well on An Ding Peak! 1) An encyclopedia knowledge for even seemingly pointless bullshit (which is kind of flattering, honestly). 2) The willingness to fight total strangers over seemingly pointless bullshit. And 3) a sharp enough tongue to win.

Peerless Cucumber didn’t find these points as funny as Shang Qinghua did.

AN: Shen Yuan was always going to end up on An Ding Peak. I thought about sending him to Qing Jing or Qian Cao or Qiong Ding... or any other Peak... but that would take him too far away from Shang Qinghua to really explore their relationship and to move him around conveniently in the story. And SY sticking to An Ding seemed to best illustrate the fact that SY is lost and doesn’t know what to do except cling to SQH.

“It’s not much, sure, but it’s yours,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “You’ll be joining the talisman classes soon, so don’t try anything from a book and then need to request some home repairs.”

Peerless Cucumber nods and puts his stack of manuals down on the table.

“How’s your tutorial mission going?”

“Fine,” the kid says shortly. “Have you found anything for the other one yet?”

“Ah, not yet.”

AN: “Are you winning, son?” meme energy here.

Ah, now Shang Qinghua recognizes his fellow transmigrator’s expression! That’s the same stunned expression one of his Huan Hua not-disciples, Yu Chaonan, made upon meeting the Bai Zhan Peak War God for the first time. Shang Qinghua assumes that Peerless Cucumber was expecting a man who looked more like a musclebound giant and less like a pop idol (if one with amazingly muscular arms), which is a super common and never-not-funny misconception people have about Liu Qingge.

“Brother of one of the most beautiful women in this world, bro,” Shang Qinghua reminds his fellow transmigrator, amused. Aha! Now Peerless Cucumber’s vehement disinterest in the harem stuff is making even more sense than before!

Shang Qinghua’s assumption gets 100% confirmed when it comes time for Peerless Cucumber to fly with Liu Qingge for the next leg of the journey. The other transmigrator is so embarrassed and awkward about it that Shang Qinghua’s super direct brother-in-law asks if the young man is alright.

AN: This was so fun to write. Shang Qinghua really can use the Liu siblings to gauge people’s sexual/romantic orientation.

The map (or rather, the copy Shang Qinghua made of the delicate original map) takes them to a green and grey landscape of leafy trees crawling over a wide network of tall cliffs and deep gorges. Gurgling rivers cut through twisting rock formations. Shang Qinghua can’t see any of these rivers on the map. Or these deathly drop ravines. From the outside, the whole thing looks like a natural maze (holy shit, there could be so many monsters and death-traps in there!), and Shang Qinghua would know those golden robes flying low over the hanging trees anywhere.

“Huan Hua,” Liu Qingge mutters.

“Do you think they’re looking for what we’re looking for?” Luo Fanli asks.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Peerless Cucumber says, before Shang Qinghua can.

AN: I came up with the skeleton idea first. Then I was like... “I should give it three eyes.” And then I was like... “But who IS this dead author? A god? A spirit? What grander implications am I spinning here?”

And THEN I remembered that I had some ambiguous powerful being force the Garden Master into exile due to a flood. This was because, in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the immortal man Gilgamesh meets in the abyss is the survivor of a great flood. So I was like, “Reduce! Re-use! Recycle! There’s my skeleton!”

So I wanted to relate the skeleton to water because of the flood angle. Water as a symbol of cleansing/reincarnation is a big thing throughout many cultures. I can’t remember exactly how the crying aspect came up, but I knew there was going to be water in the temple now, so at some point my brain like was, “Bro, this skeleton should totally be crying because mythology vibes.”

So I built the surrounding land off the idea that there was water flowing from or around this temple. At this point, I had decided that Huan Hua Palace should also be looking for this artifact, so I had to come up with a way to hide the temple, yet have a way for SQH’s party to track it down.

The damage to the doors is worse: someone once upon a time collapsed a part of the cliff face around the entrance, essentially leaving only the top fourth of the utterly smashed stone doors visible. It’s a wall now and has been for ages. It looks like it would take days to dig through the rubble. Someone has even super helpfully carved, “These doors will never open again,” just above the wreck.

“Guess we’ll have to go in as intruders rather than guests!” Luo Fanli says.

“What would be welcoming us inside a lost temple exactly?” Shang Qinghua asks vaguely, inwardly cursing the fact that explosive mining techniques will definitely attract the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators’ attention and also probably collapse the whole cliff on them.

“We only have to clear a passage for us, not the whole door,” Peerless Cucumber says optimistically. “Is there a special technique for this kind of thing?”

“Aha, not really.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we just keep following the water?” Luo Fanli says.

“...How so?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Some of those waterfalls could be passages inside,” Liu Qingge explains, because he and the little sister-in-law apparently share the same brain. He’s already eyeing the waterfall wearing down the giant statue on the left.

AN: Temples in quests need to have traps and obstacles and monsters! Well, not ALL of the did, but this one did. I based the obstacles they faced as much as I could around the whole “Death of the Author” theme, while using this whole quest to explore Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua, Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge and Luo Fanli, and so on.

The idea here with the door is that the “author” is not going to let them inside the temple to take the interpretation of the narrative (the Eye) for themselves. The story is over (the temple is closed for business)! The author is dead! If they want to get inside, they have to break inside or slip inside as intruders.

This also creates a convenient obstacle to hold up the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators so that our party can be nearly caught later! And shows off Shang Qinghua, Liu Qingge, and Luo Fanli’s twisty lines of thinking.

Luo Fanli is holding the light and Shang Qinghua passes the other transmigrator to her, while accepting Liu Qingge’s hand for help getting out of the water.

“Ahhh, that was fun,” Shang Qinghua mutters.

Then he notices that Liu Qingge has the Cheng Luan sword out and ready. Shang Qinghua looks through the surrounding darkness, but all he can see are columns and water. For a moment, he thinks he sees something, a prowling shadow at the other end of the cavernous room, but he wipes the water out of his eyes and it’s gone.

AN: The water in Shang Qinghua’s eyes briefly lets him see a flash of the invisible monsters who show up later! It helps up the tension.

Another low growl rips through the darkness and Peerless Cucumber shuffles a little closer to Shang Qinghua. Because that sounded really fucking close and yet Shang Qinghua still can’t see the thing that’s making that sound.

He doesn’t see Liu Qingge lunge at him either. He only feels his brother-in-law shove him into Peerless Cucumber, knocking them into the water, out of the way of something that howls when Liu Qingge slashes at it with his sword. Shang Qinghua rolls off Peerless Cucumber and looks up just in time to see dark blood splatter across the watery floor. Liu Qingge pursues the attacker with a second slash, but only seems to meet thin air this time.

“It’s invisible!” Luo Fanli cries. “Fuck!”

“Behind you!” Liu Qingge snaps, and spins to slash at the thin air beside him. Dark droplets of blood hit the water again and something hisses at him.

Luo Fanli whirls and slashes, searching for an opponent.

“They’re reflected in the water!” Liu Qingge yells at her, standing guard over Shang Qinghua as he gets to his feet again. “Listen for their footsteps and vocalizations! Feel the demonic energy and air displacement!”

AN: I got this from a list of Dungeons and Dragons puzzles. The idea is that there’s some puzzle that must be solved, but the truth of the room can only be seen in the reflection of the nearby water (or mirror or whatever).

Which felt fitting for a “Death of the Author” quest! Whatever an author’s intentions, the story is what they actually wrote, so the audience interprets a text without the context of the author’s insight. The truth (of the story) is in the reflection (audience interpretation)! It felt like a fun idea.

It also allows Shen Yuan to actually contribute to the quest via monster lore and bring up his impaired vision problem. And to confront Shen Yuan with the reality of this world. And to show off Luo Fanli’s fighting skills. And to show off LIU QINGGE’S legendary fighting skills, instincts as a warrior who fights many dangerous beasts, and the fact that he’s clever and observant!

Liu Qingge is good at what he does! And this is what he does!

Someone has… angrily… or desperately… carved a lopsided message into the wall.

“‘If I go blind, so does the world,’” Peerless Cucumber reads.

“...That’s probably not good,” Shang Qinghua says.

“Nooo…” Fanli agrees.

The messages continue as they climb, carved into the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Most of it is illegible. Some of it is just nonsense. Some of it looks like the same kind of historical records carved into the broken tablets. Some of it looks like someone attacked the walls after reading what was written there. There are deep gouges in the walls and cracked marks that would match a giant’s hands.

“‘The water cleans the lies,’” Peerless Cucumber reads. “‘I am the only one who can see.’ ‘Lies everywhere, lies everywhere, lies everywhere.’ ‘The water cleans the evil.’ ‘I do not have enough tears.’ ‘Everything is nothing now. Everything in vain.’”

“You really don’t need to read them!” Shang Qinghua tells the kid. “It’s fine. It's totally fine.”

AN: This is mostly here to up the tension, but it’s also here to try and give insight into this being and relate them more to the “Death of the Author” and the “Seeing is Believing” themes.

I also saw the phrase “If I go blind, so does the world�� while I was browsing a list of riddles for D&D campaigns and I was like, “THAT’S SICK, I’M USING THAT.” Really brings the “an eye for an eye” and vengeance vibes. (The riddle was longer than that one phrase, but the answer was “the sun”.)

The top of the temple reveals one massive room that looks like someone was alternatively scratching their insanity into the walls and tearing chunks out of the interior design with their bare hands. Overtop of the rubble is that eerie overgrowth. There’s a fine layer of water over the floor. At the center of it all is an incredibly enormous desk, cracked in half, with a robed skeleton sitting behind it, slumped over the top. It’s a little too large to be an ordinary human.

Plus, its skull is a little too long, probably to accommodate the third eye socket in the forehead. There’s something gleaming softly yellow in the third eye socket.

“Is… there water dripping from its eyes?” Luo Fanli whispers.

“It looks like it…” Peerless Cucumber whispers back. “Like it's crying…?”

“Still…? Is it dead or not?”

“Holy shit,” Shang Qinghua thinks, slightly nauseated. “System, bro, the worst bro I’ve ever known, tell me that we have not been swimming in a three-eyed skeleton’s magical undead tears or something this whole time.”

The shitty, no-good System stays unsurprisingly silent.

AN: Okay, so the idea here is that this being was someone who recorded history and shared their knowledge freely. This being had the ability to discern the truth of a person - they were extremely perceptive. (The Weeper is either female or doesn’t have a gender, by the way.)

The Weeper met the Garden Master at some point. The Garden Master was an asshole, a liar, arrogant, etc.. The Weeper and the Garden Master clashed badly, until the Weeper sent the cleansing flood that nearly destroyed the sect and the Garden Master essentially had to flee to a personal abyss.

The Garden Master sent the plant as a final “fuck you” to the Weeper. The plant caused the Weeper to slowly go mad. The smashed tablets and destroyed temple are the Weeper’s work. The Weeper (not in a great state of mind) had the temple closed themselves once they realized they and their work had been corrupted. This was a “you destroy my (embellished) reputation, I destroy yours (and your entire life)” plot by the Garden Master.

The idea behind the tears is the whole “water is cleansing” thing. The Weeper tried to clean away the madness using their magical water-related abilities... and it actually worked for a long time. But eventually the madness began to overpower the effects of the magical water. The Weeper’s tears are from frustration and helplessness at losing control.

The water inside the temple combats the plant’s physical effects. Also stabbing the root killed the plant and essentially broke its mental/spiritual powers.

Unfortunately, to get the fuck out of here, they have to go back through the temple. But hey! That’s still a lot better than an extended hike through an underground, haunted desert in darkness! The battle with the now-dead plant caused its growth to writhe around the temple. The vines need to be hacked through sometimes as they travel down through the rooms of broken shelves and shattered tablets.

“So much history lost…” Peerless Cucumber murmurs.

“He still thinks of himself as a reader - an observer, a visitor, separate from the flow of fate.”

AN: This is... absolutely based on the Heart from the Dishonored franchise. But this sort of item didn’t originate with Dishonored and I need it! It’s a surprise/mystery tool that will help us later!

The Eye isn’t exactly a mind-reading object. I mean, it kind of is, but it works in a very specific way that I’m looking forward to getting into.

From there, their path back out of the natural maze is even more careful and stressful than before, now that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators are actively looking for them rather than the temple. It’s slow-going and stressful and silent, except for when the Weeper’s Eye presses too close against his chest.

“He is afraid that if he starts screaming, he will never stop,” it tells him, when he’s looking at a pale-faced Peerless Cucumber, as they fly over a particularly deathly-looking drop.

“Oh, me too, bro!” Shang Qinghua thinks. “Seriously! Tell me something I don’t know!”

AN: Having Shang Qinghua be totally unimpressed by an object like this was very funny to me. He’s the author! He’s a transmigrator! He knows these people well! He already has insight into their situations.

Shang Qinghua groans, but supposes that Peerless Cucumber would have at least been disguising Liu Qingge from the back. “You tell them that you were tracking thieves who stole something from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect,” he says quickly. “Rule of embarrassment! Admitting something that makes us look bad to a rival makes it sound true. Don’t tell them what was stolen and act really offended if they try to poke into Cang Qiong business. I’ll come back as soon as I get these two out!”

Liu Qingge nods and launches forward into the fight.

“We’re just leaving him?” Peerless Cucumber says, as they do exactly that.

“I’ll get changed and come back ‘looking for him for urgent sect business’ as soon as I’ve dropped you two off in the last town,” Shang Qinghua says. “I’m really good at acting stressed and confused, and at desperately needing an unstoppable wandering Liu Qingge back at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect immediately. Now let’s go! Let’s go! Mission isn’t over yet!”

AN: Shang Qinghua is, at heart, a liar. I love him.

#tossawary updates #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word #tossawary commentary

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miruko-will-fight-god · 5 years ago

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Class 1A x Immortal reader

Warnings: death, Reader death (But revival), talks of pain

Reader info:

Quirk: Complete Restoration (This quirk allows the reader to completely heal from any injury, even allowing them to regrow organs and limbs)

A/N: I swear this isn’t angst, tbh I dont even know what to call this since it isnt fluff, crack, or angst enjoy anyway tho (Also Mineta is replaced with Shinso but that shouldn’t really be a problem lol)

You walked into the room of class 2-A greeted by the faces of your new classmates and Eraser Head, who you had met a few days prior, was lying on the floor wrapped up in his blindingly yellow sleeping bag. You walked through the door, the exhausted teacher sluggishly sitting up. “Alright, introduce yourself quickly, we have things to do afterwards” he grumbles before slouching back down.

You stepped beside the podium, reciting your rehearsed introduction from memory “Hello, I’m [Y/N] [L/N], I’m a new transfer from [Country]. I look forward to getting to know you all!” You finished, looking over towards Aizawa who was now standing, only half covered in his sleeping bag. “Alright,” he said, “now that that's over with, everyone get suited up and meet me at ground gamma.”

You followed the rest of the class towards the lockers to change into your costumes Your costume was simple, it consisted of a simple black full bodysuit that had two large pockets running down the outer sides of your legs containing rope for restraining, and some combat boots. Since your quirk didn’t give you any offensive properties, your weapon of choice was a scythe, which was quite noticeable as you paraded out of the locker room with it.

You, Ahisdo, Shinso and Midoriya were the first ones out of the locker rooms. You stood in awe of the massive industrial training grounds, as Ashido and Midoriya tried to convince you to tell them what your quirk is and Shinso looked like he was planning. As the rest of the class gathered up, you were greeted by your grumpy homeroom teacher and the frail form of all might. When all of you had arrived, All might began to brief you all on the exercise. “Today the battle will be a free for all, The border will be marked by a large red line that will shrink every minute, get pushed out of the border and you’re out, become immobilized, you’re out. Someone will win when they’re the last person standing within the border. We’ll give a 45 second grace period, for you all to get into a position, just make sure that you stay within the border.” He finished explaining. “Does everyone got it?” he asked, eliciting varying ‘yeses’ from you and your classmates. Before the class was told to begin Aizawa added something on. “One more thing, [L/N] and Shinso” your features became riddled with confusion. “As you most likely guessed this test will be an evaluation of you skills. And if I feel like your lacking what it takes to remain in this class, I will expel you.” You jumped at the notion of expelling while Shinso only narrowed his eyes, you knew that Eraserhead has expelled entire classes of students before, you were no exception to this.

You calmed your nerves just as the pair gave the signal for the grace period to start. All of you ran in, some moving faster than others due to their quirks. An overly loud horn blew throughout the arena just as you reached a safe area near the edge of the border.

‘I guess that was the signal’ you thought, starting to come up with a plan

You knew that you had the benefit of them not knowing your quirk, you were told of them and their quirks and you remember seeing them in the sports festival from last year. So your best bet would be sneak attacks and to knock people out of the border since you only had a limited amount of rope, you figured the stronger and more ballsy of your peers would be near the center, so the majority would be around the outskirts like you.

You were taken out of your thoughts by tape narrowly avoiding your face. You towards your right, to find the person of origin perched on top of a pipe. You readied your weapon in front of you, The memory of the sports festival last year coming back to you. The grip you kept on your weapon tightened as you ran towards Sero, dogging and cutting tape as it was shot as you. Once you were close enough to the pipe you jumped up, hitching your scythe into a vertical pipe adjacent to where you were jumping using the momentum to pull yourself up. As your feet landed on the metal with a soft thud, you pulled your weapon out, grasping it with both hands.

Without hesitation you run towards your current opponent, making your way between the two streams of tape he shot at you. Once he was within range of your weapon, turning the blade around so he was hit with the heel of your scythe. You watched as he fell off of the pole landing on his butt. Before he had a chance to get up or even register the slight pain in his tailbone, the large red line marking the perimeter began to move inward, leaving him outside the line. You slightly felt bad but remembered that there was still a challenge going on. However you knew you were definitely going to be apologizing.

Your next destination was closer to the center of the arena. While it was still fairly early in the game, you had no doubt that quite a few people were out. After a while navigating, only accompanied by the sound of your footsteps and the sound of fights off in the distance. Before you knew it you reached what you assumed was the center. Primarily due to the fact that the area seemed more cleared out compared to other places in the structure. The area seemed almost under ground due to the lack of pipes at the bottom but random pipes acting similar to a roof only letting stray beams of light worming their way to the ground. Within the large cleared out area three people stood the arena. Three who you recognized from their files Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Hitoshi Shinso.

You remembered them specifically since one only transferred to the hero course this year, and the other two were fairly powerful. From where you stood you noticed a few other people, their either eyes trained on the scene in front of them waiting for an opportune moment to take one of them out or fighting someone else. The boys were currently engaged in a three-way battle trying their best to keep each other at bay while also trying to keep each other down.

The boy in the green seemed to have a slight advantage since he seemed more skilled in close ranged hand-to-hand combat than the others. The blonde was stuck primarily on defense and the purple haired boy seemed to have a decent balance between defense and offense. You remembered Aizawa’s words, the threat of expulsion still slightly terrifying you. You took a deep breath and formulated a plan.

As the battle continued you scaled your way up the pipes avoiding the other spectators. You eventually made you way to the end of a pipe that led directly over the battle- well as direct as you could be considering how much they moved around. You did your best to stay as quiet as possible as your made your way across the pipe until something caught your eye. Quite a bit ahead of you, the pipe got unstable due to it missing quite a few screws. It was unstable enough that probably if you applied enough pressure the pipe would collapse causing a domino effect to the few pipes below it. You knew if you spent anymore time thinking it over you would psych yourself out of it.

You got a running start and jumped onto the pip fell with it was everything collapsed. The trio below you saw and each to appropriate actions to save themselves. Bakugou jumping back using the force of explosions to power himself back. Shinso using his capture weapon to move larger pieces of debris out of his way. Deku jumping off of the falling rubble to make sure none of it fell on himself.

That portion of the Arena was covered in a layer of dust causing everyone to cough. As the dust started to settle, letting everyone open their eyes and get fresh breaths of air into their lungs, that's when they noticed it. You were dead…? You laid on top of the rubble, only small pieces laying on top of you. There was quite a noticeable head wound, and a hole in your stomach. Almost like a piece of metal had passed clean through you.

No one dared to move, the sight of a dead body causing some of them gag, trying to keep the bile in their stomachs. No one’s eyes dared to stay fixated on anything your body, like if they looked away you would really be dead. The most stoic of your classmates were unable to keep their unwavering facades together. Everyone's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden yelling from the pile of wreckage “THAT HURT LIKE A BITCH!” You yelled, sitting up unaware of the state of your classmates. Tears started to flow as some of them finally gained the courage to run up to you bombarding you with questions.

You chuckled at the familiar questions of “what?” “how?” “weren’t you dead?” Aizawa looked through the screen, a shock that was unknown to his colleague riddled his mind. He knew what your quirk was, but he didn’t know it was to that extent. He had seen healing quirks at work before, but he had never seen someone just come back to life like that. Aizawa ended the training session early giving you his logical ruse spiel while also reprimanding you for being that reckless.

Soon enough lunch rolled around, and you sat with a large group of one 1-A students ending up next to the green haired boy from earlier. As soon as you sat down you were bombarded with questions before you chuckled. “I can’t answer all your questions at once, one at a time please.” Midoriya asked his questions first which were basically all the practical ones.

“What is your quirk?”

“It’s called complete restoration, I’m just able to heal any injury on myself, including ones that are fatal.”

“So you’re immortal?”

“Pretty Much.” you answered curtly, continuing to stuff your face.

“Do you feel pain?” a red head asked sheepishly. “Not in the slightest! But I can tell when I get hurt, it’s like some sort of sixth sense. And “dying” is practically just waking up from that weird falling feeling ” You shrugged. “But it makes it really fun to jump off of buildings and stuff!” you finished giggling. Your classmates looked at you with a mix of awe and disbelief, continuing to ask questions throughout the lunch period.

#Bnha #Mha #mha imagines #bnha imagines #Class 1a #class 1-a x reader #bnha x reader #reader insert #Katsuki Bakugou #Izuku Midoriya #Hitoshi Shinso #eijiro kirishima #Mina Ashido #Shouta Aizawa #Toshinori Yagi #Possible Part 2 I just wouldnt know what to do with it #I rlly like the potential for this quirk #I only added a scythe cuz before I wrote this I had just rewatched soul eater for the 5th time #tw: death

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yoondoze · 4 years ago

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make a wish | jjk

jeongguk doesn’t know it, but his wish came true.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 3.5k

genre: angst, best friend!au

warnings: mentions of sex, language

a/n: uhh been in a jeongguk mood recently, so i’m riding it out through writing angsty drabbles :’) this is lowkey unedited so shh

You’re sick of sharing birthdays with Jeon Jeongguk.

Yeah, your perfectly timed entrance into this world on the same date was the basis of your friendship, but every year? It made sense when you were kids and had to invite the entire class to your parties since everyone had the same friends. But now you’re sixteen, and things are different.

While the two of you have always been close friends, what with growing up around the block together and spending the dog days of summer crossing between the sandbox and the pool with one another, you also have put together your own separate friend groups at school. And now that all of them are here together, it’s an awkward intermingling of teenagers that don’t have much in common, other than that they all suddenly forget who they’re here for when they see an attractive person their same age.

The only good thing about it is that Jeongguk invited his cute guy friends. Not here for you, per se, but the attention is all the same. Especially when it’s coming from Park Jimin. The way he wished you a happy birthday earlier was the most charming thing you’ve ever seen to date.

Jeongguk, bowl cut and all, is having the time of his life. The fact that its his 16th birthday doesn’t matter as much as the fact that it’s his birthday. He doesn’t feel much different like he thought he might. Maybe it is because every cool YA protagonist he ever idolized was saving the world at 16. By now, he’s decided that all the romanticized versions of teenage lives he’s been sold on up to this very moment is a scam. Nonetheless, he’s a simple boy. He’s just enjoying the time bowling with his friends.

...Until the moment he lays eyes on you.

The alley is dark, and though it obscures your features, he knows you well enough to see you’re upset. Your friends are barely hanging out with you, seeming to have left you behind for his friends, who coincidentally left him behind for yours. He also knows you compromised for this party. You wanted painting, envisaging a lovely evening with your companions, seated behind easels and letting your creativity flow onto a canvas. You were eight hours older and therefore the one in charge of making the decisions - it was a no-brainer, in your eyes.

But Jeongguk, never one to give in, insisted on bowling. Your parents were forcing a shared party again this year, and with how you eventually accepted that Jeongguk would throw a fit if he had to paint on his birthday, you reluctantly agreed under the obligatory condition that he invited his friend Jimin.

Who he was starting to hate, by the way. You gave more attention to the kid you were crushing on from history instead of the best friend you’d grown up with your entire life. Every time he saw you stare longingly at some stupid boy that was as mature as a cucumber, he wanted to scream that the real pickle was standing right in front of you!

Give him a break. It’s the only analogy his sixteen year old mind can think of.

The caring boy he is, he walks over to where you sit solemnly by yourself. All you’ve been doing for the past five minutes is tapping your feet to the overplayed pop music flooding the joint and continuously picking at your fingers - an unquestionably fantastic time. He shoves out his hand for you to take, which you willingly do in hopes for a cure for your boredom, and he drags you over to his lane. The way you roll your eyes at his enthusiasm only makes him like you more. That’s because it’s always accompanied by a fond smile, and he loves to see your dimples.

He’d never tell you, though. He’d definitely never tell his mom, because he knows she’d get too eager and tell your mom, and then she’d tell you. His mom has been rooting for the two of you since day one. She always was saying things like, “I’m not letting you date anyone unless it’s Y/N,” or, “I can’t wait until you and Y/N go to prom!”

At one point he wondered if he actually liked you or if it was the result of his mom’s wishes manifesting into real life after such diligence. He has since then accepted his feelings as his own, but won’t deny how the ideas sometimes made his cheeks flush.

In the time since the party has started, your “friends” have disappeared to the bathroom twice. His friends are over getting snacks without him, but it doesn’t upset him anymore. He didn’t really want their company anyway. It’s just the two of you, how it’s always been, and how he wanted it from the start.

“Watch, watch, okay?” He says, excitement dripping off every syllable. He figures he can maybe lift your mood if his is high enough to share some with you.

“Okay, I’m watching!” you exclaim. Jeongguk swells as he watches your cheeks bounce.

He seats you behind the machine and hurries to pick up a fourteen-pound ball swirled with blue and purple.

Now that he actually has to do it, Jeongguk’s heart races just a little bit. He just doesn’t want to embarrass himself, that’s all. His skills have improved from practice and the bowling team at school and it would suck if he screwed up. Especially considering that the reason he was so certain about a bowling party was so he’d have the chance to show off to you. But then he thinks it might make you laugh if he embarrasses himself, so his reassurance is that it’ll be a win either way.

He takes a deep breath. He draws back skillfully and with four purposeful steps, his right foot slips behind him and his arm swings fluidly toward his target. The ball hits the waxed floor rolling. The tension in his body is stiff as it heads right toward the pins, and boom! All ten fall in a domino effect, the rough clattering echoing in the alley. A perfect strike.

His fists pump into the air as his chest fills with pride. He spins on his heels, eyes sparkling as he hopes to find a smile on your face when he gets there -

But you’re not even paying attention. His ecstatic expression falls as quickly as his spirit does. Your head is turned from him, and when he follows your gaze, it lands on none other than fucking Park Jimin. There’s a subtle smile resting on your lips as you focus on his mindless laughter as opposed to Jeongguk’s imposing strike. Jimin is standing at the controls of a claw machine, working the joystick as his friends direct him to grab some stupid inflatable basketball the size of his palm. If it were Jeongguk, he’d go for the plush bear in the machine over and get it for you in one try.

“C’mon guys!” Your mom yells, breaking you from your infatuated stare. “Cake!”

The boys give up on their escapade and the girls magically apparate back from their fifteen minute long bathroom break. Thrilled jeers and whoops sound from everyone now filtering into the party room, somehow more excited about it than the birthday boy and girl themselves.

As you get up from your seat, you meet Jeongguk’s eyes with a quick raise of your brows, oblivious to the fact you just obliterated his heart without saying a single word. Then he’s trailing behind you, brushing his hair from his face with a sigh while everyone gathers around the table and lets you take your place at the head.

Amidst the singing and the cheers from your peers, Jeongguk can’t stop himself from glancing over to you. Right away, he knows the smiles you’re tossing out to your friends are forced. He regrets having this party in the first place. He hates seeing you disappointed and upset. He’ll choose painting any day if it means you won’t be like this.

You, on the other hand, are trying to get a peek of Jimin at every second possible. You can make out his voice among the others while singing. It’s just happy birthday, but his voice is actually really pretty, so you jot it down to reference in your next day dream.

“Make a wish!”

He thinks hard, imagining everything he could want at this point in his life. The spot for team captain, to ace his next Chemistry test, for a new bike. But wishing for something like that seems silly when he already knows what he really wants.

A big breath of air - “special for your 16th!” - and the two of you are blowing out the candles. One is all it takes for each of the waving flames to flicker out.

Jeongguk wishes that you’ll like him back.

You wish that Jimin will like you back.

☆☆☆

In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to shift your relationship with Jeongguk into something more than platonic friends. At this point, he’d call it friends with benefits. You’d call it getting your heart ripped out every time he dialed your number. Even worse, it was undeniably voluntary.

It was an awkward start. Both of you got drunk one night in his apartment, sitting on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, started asking heavy, slurred questions, and maybe admitted, “yeah, I’d fuck you,” on a whim. And then maybe you did just that.

It was supposed to be a one-time event. A weird moment in your timeline of friendship that you’d agree on forgetting. Something that you both would pretend never happened so things wouldn’t change.

However, Jeongguk’s life had been a roller coaster recently. He moved to the city with the intention of freedom only for things to get more complicated. His career was struggling, his girlfriend broke up with him, his friends barely spoke to him anymore.

So it was just you and him again, like it had always been. You were the only one who still visited, who still called, who still cared. That’s what friends are for. Help when times are rough and be there when needed. That’s your part of the deal.

Sex isn’t always included in said deal, but it is this time around.

It’s not much different. You come over for a regular movie night like you used to, but sometimes it ends up in his bedroom, that’s all. To him, anyway. You’re not sure how he hasn’t caught on yet. He’s so preoccupied that he probably chalks your racing pulse up to being horny, or interprets the emotion in your kisses as neediness. The way you hold onto him or say his name as pleasure.

It’s that endless love you have for him taking its many forms. It’s dropping off extra meals to stick in the fridge and checking in to make sure he isn’t beating himself up to the point where he can’t get out of bed. It’s also letting him fuck you when he needs to feel something.

He’s just in a rut. He just needs some time to get his life together and figure shit out. And from there it’ll be peaches and cream. When his life is on the upturn, he’ll realize you’re the one who’s always been there and who always will be, and then he’ll fall in love with you too. You’re not scared, you’re just helping your best friend through a tough time. But then he’s panting, rolling off you to take a shower right after.

It stings every time. Even when you think it will be different.

At the end of the day, if it makes him feel better, you’ll endure it a thousand times over. On a bright side that’s not all that bright, for the moments you spend intertwined, you can at least pretend he’s yours. You can imagine it’s just another hot night shared in your apartment as you live out your dreamy domestic couple’s life. It sometimes seems that way with how much you take care of him, but he’d never see it as anything more than platonic.

Jeongguk knows you love him, of course, but he doesn’t know the extent it reaches. He doesn't know that your heart shatters every time he gives you a kiss on the cheek and says he loves you. He doesn’t know that when you say it back, you don’t mean just as friends. He doesn’t know you’d drop everything and run if he asked you to. You didn’t even know it for a while. Because falling in love with Jeongguk is slow and comes day by day without realizing, until suddenly you’re stuck neck deep without an inkling in your mind of trying to escape. It’s a gentle, spellbinding bloom you wouldn’t trade for the world.

From this view on his bed, you can see a glimpse of his figure behind the foggy glass of his upright shower. You tug your t-shirt back on for some modesty as if it still matters, swallowing down the tightening in your throat. If he feels your eyes lingering on him, he doesn’t show it. For whatever reason, watching him wash his face in small circles makes your stomach sink inexplicably.

Jeongguk at the fresh age of twenty-one is a lot different than Jeongguk at sixteen. Gone is the bowl cut, in comes long wavy hair that hangs in front of his face, always seeming to fall perfectly to frame his features. His shoulders broadened along with his horizons. His personality hasn’t changed, but it’s easy to think it has with the dark cloud that seems to follow him wherever he walks nowadays. You never realized how cute his dimples were until they started showing less and less.

You toy with the idea of maybe just confessing tonight. Get it off your chest once and for all. It would save you a lot of heartbreak, but you can already picture yourself sputtering it out for tense silence to fill the air, and for you to walk out and never come back. You can’t decide if it’s really worth risking when he’s the only thing you’ve got. There are a myriad of directions your life could take, but you wouldn’t want a single one without him in it, even if it crushes you.

A deep sigh escapes you. It’s your birthday today - shouldn’t you be enjoying it instead of being so morally torn?

How is it that you had him so close for so many years yet still missed your chance?

The memory of wishing for Jimin’s returned affection as a teenager resurfaces and makes you wince. While he did end up liking you back, it was a mess of a relationship that left you moping back to Jeongguk after just a few months. It should have been obvious back then that it was him all along.

He was always right in front of you, doting on you, leaving his everlasting mark on your life without even meaning to. Charming and humble and telling jokes to make you laugh rather than to make you think he was funny, being kind out of the purity of his character rather than to be rewarded. Apologizing to ants when he had to kill them and then sulking the rest of the night, learning to braid your hair while watching movies, listening to your every rant and ramble with the utmost attention as if it was the only thing that mattered to him.

Then it hits you that it’s not just about you and never was. It’s Jeongguk’s birthday today, too. You wished it to each other when you walked through the door, but that’s not a celebration, and neither is sex. You’re reminded that your job is to be a friend regardless of how you feel because you know he’d do the same, and good friends wouldn’t spend your special day wallowing in their own self-pity.

With renewed vigor, you’re pushing yourself off the bed and padding out to his sorry excuse for a kitchen. There’s barely enough space to move around comfortably and you can’t imagine how he does it on a daily basis. The view beyond the counter-top and out the balcony connected to the living room is beautiful, though. It’s miles upon miles of shining lights and skyscrapers that embrace the velvet dusk of the sky. That’s broke city living, you suppose. You flick on the light, dim but just enough to see.

His cabinets are an absolute mess. There’s no organization to it at all, no method to the madness. It’s blatant even from the unsteady view on your tippy toes. You catch sight of some peanut butter, bags of chips, packets of ramen, a box of cinnamon frosted pop tarts…

You almost lose your balance as you shift everything around, but the feeling of joy when you see that signature box is indescribable. It’s exactly what you need.

The blue and white packaging of the Hostess CupCakes has been opened, and considering it was sitting at the back of the top shelf, probably forgotten about. However, you’re sure it’ll be enough for him.

You find the lighter fairly easily, pulling open all the drawers out and rummaging through them. As expected, there’s no organization either. Measuring cups and pens in one, scissors and a single oven mitt in another. It’s the third and final drawer you tug open to find something to possibly substitute what you’re looking for.

Not that you expected him to have birthday candles lying around, but you didn’t think you’d be using an old red crayon in ones place. It’ll make do. It has to, considering that the noise of Jeongguk shutting off the shower is already reverberating off the walls. It won’t be much of a surprise if he walks out here and asks what you’re doing before you can even finish.

With delicate fingers, you press the end of the crayon into the cake just enough for it to stay upright. The lighter takes a couple tries, as does getting the wax to melt down enough to reach the paper, but eventually a small glowing flame takes shape. Flickering orange and everything you need it to be. You can’t put your finger on why your eyes start to tear up when you look at it, but then Jeongguk is calling your name.

“One sec! Just sit down,” you say loudly, ready to shout at him to stay back if you hear a creaky foot step coming your way.

“...Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, the weariness coating his tongue one that you hope you can wash away within the next few seconds. “I am sitting.”

Hands as stable as an anchor, you slide the cupcake into your palms and walk carefully so as to not put out the dwarfed blaze. You turn your back to push open the door with and glide into the room with an atypical but much appreciated vivacity.

His eyes widen and an open mouthed smile tweaks at his lips as he perches at the edge of the bed. The flame is already halfway down the paper, but he seems impressed with your extempore candle. It’s the only source of light in the room, and his face underneath the gentle glimmer is a sight that you know you’ll lock away forever to look back on with adoration.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...” you begin to sing, not bothered with the worry of embarrassment. Your lawless, flimsy tone elicits a bubbly laugh from Jeongguk. Suddenly, the bright Gguk you grew up beside returns, the one you love more than ever.

“Happy birthday dear Jeongguk-”

His voice harmonizes with yours, but he sings your name instead of his. He doesn’t even have to try for it to rattle you to your core. Your name off his tongue is by far the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Happy birthday to you.”

You extend your arms out so he can take in the makeshift festivity for all it is. His damp side-swept bangs reflect the pale gleam like black gossamer, and his eyes swimming with sentimentality.

“Make a wish,” you say, suppressing the wild flutter of your heart.

Jeongguk cups his hands under yours, pushing them back until the cupcake is equidistant to the both of you.

He says it firmly, not to be argued with. “No, together.”

You pretend to wipe the sweat from your forehead, thinking of what you might want this year. A job opportunity, to win the lottery, an easier semester at school. You don’t have to ponder for long. How could you, when what you really want has been sitting patiently at the forefront of your mind for almost a year?

Jeongguk sighs. If he could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?

In unison, you suck in a deep breath and close your eyes. You blow with all your might, extinguishing the flame together in one as the room falls dark again.

You wish that Jeongguk will like you back.

Jeongguk just wishes that life will get easier.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #btsguild #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts imagine #bts x reader #yoondoze

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demonwifey · 5 years ago

Note

hey, welcome to the fam!! was wondering if you could do a strong-willed, hot headed fem reader who doesn’t put up w/beej’s shit but as soon as he starts to really get hot and steamy with the flirting she goes completely weak and sub? (bonus of beej knows this and takes advantage of it during petty arguments)

Ayyy, I definitely appreciate the welcome! 💚💜🖤 This is my first ask so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing and sexual themes

Word count: 3,920

Beetlejuice was a lot to handle. Everyone knows this. He was all too needy, flirty, and way too devious for his own good. It took a special kind of person to deal with the demon. While Beej’s favorite victims to terrorize were the Maitland/Deetz household, his attention shifted drastically when Y/N came into the picture.

Beej loved it when he could tease and pick on a person enough to put them in a flustered spur. The sound of someone being frazzled by his over the top flirting was his second favorite sound next to screaming in fear. Whether it was nose-poking, butt-grabbing, or his famous animated-ish grab and dip kisses, the demon would never hold back.

But see, you weren’t exactly an easy cookie to crumble. Although there were times that Beej’s shenanigans would get to you, you weren’t timid or shy. You actually stood up to Beetlejuice. Which ten times out of ten would completely shock him to the point of being surprisingly speechless. He was so used to getting his way and having everyone around him being apprehensive about his antics. But you were having none of it.

***

Beej knew you were a force to be reckoned with when he basically destroyed your bathroom. Since Beetlejuice was already dead he was always into the thrill of experiencing death multiple different ways (thinking about that part in the bootleg when Adam and Barbara said they wanted to cut off his head and Lydia deadass was like “You should…he’d love that”). You were sitting on the couch with your laptop looking up some new hair products your friends had mentioned to you. Having been focused on your screen you didn’t even realize your boyfriend was in the kitchen up to no good. Beej yanked the toaster’s cord out of the outlet and floated his way to your upstairs bathroom.

Not even 10 minutes later, the lights all around your apartment started to flicker and you heard a loud crackling sound coming from upstairs. Panic started to cloud up your head when you heard Beetlejuice yell in what sounded like pain and you immediately dashed up the stairs as quickly as you could. When you got to the bathroom, you were faced with the ultimate mess.

Beetlejuice was sitting in the tub holding your, now smoking, toaster. His daily striped suit set was scattered on the bathroom floor. His entire body was black due to the burns and ash from the toasters burst while his already messy hair was scattered in different directions on his head. And to top it off your bathtub, which was originally white, was covered in nothing but black ash. You stood there in disbelief for a moment before running up to Beej who sat extremely still in the ruined tub. You crouched down next to the tub and gripped his shoulders.

“Beej? Beej, look at me. Are you okay? Talk to me. Are you hurt?” You asked with clear worry in your voice. The demon man slowly turned his head towards you. Before you could register the fact that you asked these questions to a dead man, Beetlejuice let out a loud cackle while throwing his head back.

“Hell yeah I’m okay, babes. That. Was. AWESOME. You’ve got to try it with me next time…well maybe not. You might actually die.” Beetlejuice went on his mixed tangent about not wanting you to die but also how much fun he just had being electrocuted because he was bored. You stared at the demon with your eyes slightly squinted before it all hit you at once and you went off. You stood up immediately with complete anger in your eyes and heat flowing through your body.

“Beetlejuice. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?” You screamed at the man in the tub. He looked up at you with his head cocked to the side. Before he could say anything, you spoke again. “YOU REALLY JUST…SAT HERE IN MY BATH TUB AND ELECTROCUTED YOURSELF FOR THE FUCK OF IT? BECAUSE YOUR WERE BORED? DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS? OR HOW DANGEROUS IT COULD’VE BEEN?”

Complete and utter outrage filled your body as you hovered over Beetlejuice. He stood up from the tub and the water splashed around him and some onto you. He actually wasn’t completely naked as his lower half was covered by a pair of black and white boxers. He dropped the toaster back into the tub and held his hands up to his chest.

“What? Babes, it’s fine. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m already dead. No harm, now foul.” He said smirking at you as if that was to make everything better. The young woman stared at him for a little longer, completely dumbfounded. She placed her hands to the sides of her face, trying to get her thoughts together.

“Beej…I-. No harm? How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my landlord? Look at all of this! The tub is completely black and burned! And that was the new toaster my mom bought me a week ago!” You said gesturing to the disaster around him. He just looked around like a confused child, still not really grasping the reality of the situation. All you could do was let out a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mind scrambled with a million other things to say but you realized there was no point in wasting your breath.

“Okay, you know that. Just get out of the tub.” You said as you moved to grab the toaster’s cord out of the outlet. After, you reached down to pick up his clothes and walked out of the bathroom. You heard the water splash as he got out and walked behind you. After you both were standing in your bedroom, you threw his clothes on your bed and turned towards him. You were already annoyed but the stupid smirk on his face made you even more agitated.

“Well, babes. Had I known ruining your bathroom would’ve gotten me back into your bedroom, I would’ve done it a lot sooner.” He sauntered towards you with his hands upwards, as if getting ready to grab your breasts. Before he could get any further, you grabbed the towel off of your chair and threw it straight in his face.

“Make jokes while you can, Beetlejuice.” You said with a heavy tone of exasperation in your voice. As he scrambled to remove the towel from his face, you moved past him to go back downstairs. He stared at the door as you exited, unsure of what was about to happen next.

He dried himself off for a few minutes before putting his suit back on. Just as he finished tying his tie, you reappeared in the doorway holding a bucket full of what looked like cleaning supplies. Beej was confused before you lifted your hand and motioned him to follow you again. He did as told and you both were back in the messy room. You dropped the bucket on the floor with a loud thump and turned towards the demon.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You and I are going to clean this bathroom and it is going to be spotless. Like nothing ever happened. Because if my landlord saw this, not only would she charge me a stupid expensive repair fee, I might actually get kicked out. So, you are gonna get on your knees,” You bent down to grab a large sponge and a bottle of tub cleaner before slamming it on his chest “And scrub the hell out of this tub like you’ve never scrubbed before. And if you so much as try to poof yourself away without helping, I will banish your ass in a heartbeat and you won’t see me for a good 3 weeks. Got it?” You commanded with utter authority and sternness in your voice.

Without even needing to say it, Beej knew he couldn’t stand to not be around your for 3 minutes, let alone 3 weeks. And by the seriousness on your face, he knew you meant it. Nonetheless, Beetlejuice was shocked. No one had ever actually made him take responsibility for his actions, let alone LITERALLY make him clean up his own mess. To say the least the man was baffled, but intrigued. Beetlejuice just nodded his head quickly. You moved your hands away from him and bent down to grab your own materials.

“Alright, bugboy. Let’s get to work.”

***

It had been weeks since that incident and you and Beetlejuice were back on good terms. The dead man actually ended up apologizing, which shocked you nonetheless. Of course he brought you a bouquet of dead roses, but that’s besides the point. It was still a sweet gesture that made you forgive him.

What he didn’t tell you is that he was completely turned on from the situation. You had put Beetlejuice in his place, and that wasn’t something he was used to. Ever since he met you you were headstrong and willing to take control. Most importantly, you weren’t willing to take his shit. And he loved that.

Ever since that day, he did anything he could to get under your skin. Beetlejuice would burn your dinner multiple times a week, make too much noise while you were trying to sleep, or pick and poke at you while you were trying to get work done. Just anything and everything to make you snap and yell at him. Completely putting your dominant personality on display. Not to mention the way you took control with anger during sex drove him utterly wild. It was like finally seeing heaven for him. But after riling you up for weeks, he decided it was time for a change.

While he absolutely adored your more assertive personality, he wanted to see it all come crashing down. He wanted to see that rage filled face to turn into a flustered one. He finally wanted to be the one in control. And he knew exactly what to do.

One day Y/N came home from work completely spent. Tired, aggravated, and just plain annoyed. It was a complete case of the domino effect. The corporate bosses were frustrated about yet another thing and yelled at your supervisors. With that, your supervisors came back to yell at you and your coworkers about it. Everyone attempted to shift blame on one another, which led everyone in the office to be irritated with each other. It was a day from hell.

Once you walked through the door, you kicked your heels off and threw your bag to the side. After hanging your jacket in the closet, you flopped yourself face down on the couch. You lay there for a good minute just needing some peace and quiet. Before you could even enjoy the moment, you felt a dip in the couch behind you.

“Well hello to my favorite pair of sexy black lace panties.” You groaned quietly as you felt your demon boyfriend lift up your skirt and peak at your ass underneath. You reached behind and swatted his hand away.

“God, Beej, not now. I just had the worst day at work.” You sighed out as you turned your body around to lay on your back and looked up to see his smiling face. Although Beej had been on your nerves for the past few weeks, the only thing that got you through the day was coming home to see his pale, goofy, smiling face. He reached down to grab your legs and placed them on his lap. Beej rubbed your thighs gently with his cold hand.

“Finally ready to commit a work related homicide, dollface?” He asked, making his gritty voice quieter than usual. You let out another sigh.

“Ugh, I’m seriously like an inch away from considering it. It’s like my bosses get their asses handed to them and then they come back to blow steam on us. It’s so stupid and frustrating.” You moved to sit up. “All I wanna do for the rest of the day is eat dinner and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Yeah, no can do on that, babes.” Beetlejuice said with a smirk on his face as he continued to move his hands higher and higher on your lap. You narrowed your eyes at him, not really in the mood for any of his shenanigans at the moment.

“And why is that?” You asked, already feeling your blood start to boil inside of you. Beetlejuice just continued to smirk without actually looking at you.

“Because I~” His voice was starting to become more high pitched and you felt one of his hands already reach the top of your thigh under your skirt. “Mayormaynothavemadeahugemessinyourroomandyou’regonnahavetocleanitup.”

He spoke so quickly that you almost couldn’t understand what the hell he just said. Almost. You moved your legs off of his lap and looked directly in his eyes.

“What kind of a mess?” You asked in the serious tone he was all too excited to hear. The demon shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Nothing too bad. Just me and the clones hung out. We watched some TV, played some board games, had some wrestling matches, had a big lunch date in your room. Oh! Can you believe we actually found a baby sandworm and watched it crawl up the walls?” By the time Beej had finished his sentence your eyes almost popped out of your head. You didn’t waste anymore time listening to him rant as you paced up the stairs to your room. You were met with a closed door and the fear of what was waiting behind it was all too real. You slowly put your hand on the door handle and twisted it slowly.

Beej was still sitting on the couch feeling extremely proud of himself. It wouldn’t be long before-

“OH MY GOD BEETLEJUICE! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Right on the nose. The demon man lifted himself off the couch and strolled up to your room with satisfaction in his step. When he reached the doorway he saw you standing on the middle of the floor completely baffled, dumbfounded, and everything in between.

To put it simply, your room was trashed. There was food and drink wasted everywhere. Your nearly organized bookshelf was emptied as each book was piled on the floor. Your bed was covered in shoe marks and crumbs from what looked like the last of the chips downstairs. Your comforter and sheets were all torn to shreds. Your closet door was open and most of your clothes were scattered everywhere. And just as you turned your head to the side, you immediately saw the sleeping baby sandworm in the corner. This was it. This was the day you were actually going to kill Beetlejuice, forget the fact that he was already dead.

While your head scrambled for something to say, you looked over the said man in the doorway. Leaning on it with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen. You felt your mind become clouded with anger. You were ready to snap completely but before you did, you had to leave the room. You walked towards Beej, putting your man on his chest and pushing him out of the way. As he stepped backwards, you closed the door behind you. The two of your stood there for a second. You were trying your best to stay calm so you wouldn’t say something you regret. But, God, the stupid grin on his face was making it extremely difficult.

“What…the fuck is your problem?” You gritted your teeth while saying. Beetlejuice cocked his head to the side.

“What do ya mean, babes?” He asked in fake innocence. And that was the last straw.

“I mean, why are you being such a dick?! For these last few weeks you’ve been doing nothing but irritate the hell out of me. First it was little petty stuff but now this?” You almost yelled gesturing towards your bedroom door. “Did I do something to you, Beej? Because this fucking ridiculous. AND THEN you have the nerve to say that I have to clean it up? Nope, fuck that. Get your ass downstairs, grab that cleaning stuff and fix my room!” You demanded with your usual dominant tone. You just expected Beetlejuice to follow suit like he always does.

“No.” You were shocked, to say the least. You stared up at the man, expecting some kind of explanation. But his expression stayed at the same mischievous grin from before. You were about to completely lose it.

“No? What the hell do you mean ‘no’?” You asked, frustration and anger leaking out more than ever.

“I mean, I’m not gonna clean your room. That’s what I said, right?” At this point you could’ve sworn this was all a fever dream, it had to be. Your dead boyfriend just destroyed your room to hell and back, and is now denying to clean it. What was even happening?

“A-are you insane? You’re gonna clean this room, Beetlejuice, or-“

“Or what? You gonna spank me?” He cut you off all too smoothly. You weren’t even sure where that just came from. The first thing you noticed, however, is the changed look in his eyes. He still had a taunting grin on his face, but his eyes shifted from mischievous to…lustful?

“I-I…no. But I’ll banish you for real. You know I will!” You spoke out, trying to stand your ground. Beetlejuice just chuckled and crossed his arm, almost with too much confidence for your liking.

“Oh, yeah? And for how long, babes? Y'know you couldn’t stand to be away from me too long, right?” The taller demon slowly walked towards you. Along with his own demeanor, something in you changed as well. You couldn’t put your finger on it at this very minute though. You took a few steps back as he approached.

“You-you’re talking a lot of shit but-“

“But what, dollface? Hmm?” He cut you off yet again. You felt yourself, quite literally, backed against a wall. Beetlejuice was now standing right in front of you. No, he stood towering over you. Something about his current mood change was making you feel small and timid. When you looked up to try and say something else, you noticed his hair had changed from it’s usual bright green to a dark magenta color. You were too busy staring to notice that Beej placed his hands on either side of your head on the door behind you.

“Well? I’m waiting~” He said in such a low sensual tone that made you feel weak all over. Your mind and body had just done a complete 180. From being ready to rip Beej’s face apart to being turned on by his own tone switch, it was all too unreal.

“I-you-“ You stuttered too openly. You were losing your dominant power right in front of him. And Beetlejuice. was loving every second of it.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Y/N? Cat got that pretty tongue of yours? Why don’t you stop fussing and put it to work for me instead.” His gritty voice and patronizing tone mixed together so well. He moved one of his hands down to graze his fingers against your cheek oh so gently. You tried your best to hide the shiver that made its way down your body.

“Beej, I-“ You timidly tried to speak up but it was still overshadowed by you looking down at the floor between you two. Along the way, you noticed the growing bulge in his pants in front of you.

“Shh,” He cooed at you with his chilly hand placed on your cheek. “On your knees, babes.”

Yet again, you were at a loss for words. On any other day, you would’ve told Beetlejuice exactly where to stick it. Not letting the petty demon even dream of pushing you into submission. But here you were, ready to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted to you. You didn’t realize you stuck in your own thoughts until Beej moved his hand cup your jaw. He used a small amount of force to lift your head back up, forcing you to look into his golden eyes.

“I said, on your knees.” Beetlejuice looked straight into you as he spoke. As if your legs had a mind of their own, you followed suit. You slowly bent your knees and lowered yourself gently to the floor. With his hand still holding a firm grip on your cheek, your head was tilted upwards as Beetlejuice looked down at you. You two stayed like that for a moment. Waiting with so much anticipation, Beetlejuice released your chin and then moved to softly rub his thumb over your bottom lip. His entire expression is filled with lust and desire for you.

“Hot damn, babes. You always look so damn good on your knees for me.” He almost growled out and he looked at you. You’d never admit but hearing him say that made you feel so many emotions at once. The most lingering feeling was the wetness that was currently filling your panties. While it seemed like your head was about to be clouded by nothing but pleasure and hidden sexual fantasies you didn’t even know you had, you were able to catch yourself. You snapped out of your submissive daze for a moment and touched Beetlejuice’s hand on your mouth.

“Beej…you just trashed my room. And now you’re gonna turn it into a sex thing.” You asked. Even with your anger seemingly flushed away, you weren’t actually gonna forget the event that started this whole thing. Beetlejuice stopped running his finger over your lip for a moment before looking back towards your bedroom door.

You felt a small twinge of regret when he stopped his motions. You probably just ruined the moment that you so desperately wanted. And already knowing the high level of pettiness Beej had in him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped everything right then and there. When Beetlejuice looked back down at you, he had such a serious expression on his face.

“Are you complaining, beautiful? You want me to stop?” He asked and you could hear the slight sense of concern in his voice. Beej was always sure to make certain that you wanted whatever he was giving you. He never pushed you to do something that made you uncomfortable or just did something for his benefit.

Before you even said anything, you took your hand off of his. Your other hand followed as they both gently touched the front of his thighs. You then glanced down and realized that you were face to face with his extremely achingly hard bulge. You weren’t sure 100% of what the demon had in mind, but you thought you had a clue. One of your hands moves to graze at the bulge, letting Beetlejuice know everything he needs to know. You wanted whatever he was about to do to you, and you wanted it now.

“…No. Don’t stop, Beej.” You once again, spoke timidly. Wanting to give him the sense that had full dominance over you, you palmed at the strain on his pants desperately. The demon man looked down at you with the most lewd filled smirk you had ever seen.

“Alright then, babes. Let’s put that pretty mouth to work.”

Okay, don’t panic. Because I most definitely have a part 2 in mind for this. But anyway, thanks for reading!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice requests #anon asks

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carmenlire · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Skies

written for BTS Aspec Week over on twitter!

read on ao3

This date is pretty damned perfect, if Yoongi says so himself.

It’s a sunny day, late autumn air crisp, and there’s no place he’d rather be right now.

Right now being at an open air market in a cozy Seoul neighborhood. There are dozens of stalls selling everything from cheese to ornaments to toys. When Taehyung had invited him here for their next date, Yoongi hadn’t hesitated to accept.

It’s comfortable in the way Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to pull Yoongi to whatever stall catches his eye and the conversation flows smoothly. They’ve only been together a few weeks but Yoongi’s never felt so good with someone else, so warm and comfortable and, frankly, not annoyed at extended amounts of quality time spent together.

Taehyung keeps him on his toes, though, all while making sure he’s not overwhelmed or tired out or just over it all.

And while he won’t ever say it out loud, at least not yet, Yoongi privately thinks that it might just be impossible to tell Taehyung no, that Yoongi would do anything with him if he just asked.

There’s just one tiny, teensy, very small problem that’s not really a problem at all but more of a conundrum.

“Hey, hyung, look at this,” his boyfriend’s voice brings Yoongi over from where he was looking at carved wooden animals to the stall next door where Taehyung’s eyeing a cupcake.

As he nears, Yoongi shivers a little and pulls his coat closer to him. They’ve been here an hour or so and the temperature is dropping. It’s still sunny and barely enough to notice but Yoongi, who hates the cold, can definitely feel the difference. Crowding closer to Taehyung under the guise of looking at the cupcakes too, their hands knock into each other. Yoongi’s heart beats a little faster, even at so small a gesture, and he wants.

He wants to hold Taehyung’s hand.

But he’s nervous. Everything is still so new and Yoongi has been told a time or two in the past that he can be too clingy, that once he’s comfortable with someone, he’s too comfortable and he doesn’t want to freak his new boyfriend out by holding hands when he clearly doesn’t feel the same need.

See Yoongi’s predicament.

They haven’t done much of anything yet. Really, Yoongi wonders if they don’t look like just friends when they’re out on dates for there’s no kissing, no holding close, no hand-holding or footsie under the table or anything really to give away that Yoongi likes Taehyung so much he feels like vibrating sometimes when he’s on the receiving end of that boxy grin, like he’s won something infinitely precious whenever Taehyung laughs at something he says or looks at him with wide eyes like he’s seeing everything Yoongi tries so hard to hide.

It’s a lot. Taehyung’s a lot but Yoongi kinda feels like a sunflower opening up under that intense stare and warm smile.

The two of them don’t say anything for a moment, just look over the display of baked goods before Taehyung shifts and Yoongi freezes when an arm drops over his shoulders, shivers-- though definitely not from the cold-- when he feels Taehyung speak low into his ear.

“What do you think, hyung? Salted caramel or blueberry lemon?”

It takes a minute for the words to register, Yoongi far too aware of how close his boyfriend is. He feels small tucked into Taehyung like this and apparently his boyfriend is a heater masquerading as a human person because he’s so warm that Yoongi feels himself starting to thaw almost immediately.

Debating, Yoongi stares at the two cupcakes before shrugging and turning to look at Taehyung. When he turns, Yoongi realizes just how close the two of them are and he’s breathless for a whole new reason. Taehyung doesn’t look affected though, just looks at him expectantly with a wide smile and patient eyes, waiting for him to make a decision, and Yoongi is in definite like.

A little flustered, Yoongi manages to whisper, “Salted caramel.” Taehyung’s grin widens.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he exclaims and turns toward the cashier to order.

Yoongi zones out a little, still leeching Taehyung’s body heat, but he startles when Taehyung holds out a steaming cup. “I ordered a hot chocolate too. Want to share?”

Smiling, Yoongi accepts the drink. Humming a little, he brings the cup up to his face and breathes in, warm chocolate making everything seem that much cozier. When he looks up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, he sees Taehyung watching him with a fond smile, something quieter than his usual. “Thanks, Tae-ah.”

“No problem, hyung. You looked a little cold anyway.”

Before Yoongi can reply, Taehyung is turning to the next stall. Yoongi takes a sip of the hot chocolate and almost chokes on it when he feels Taehyung’s hand take hold of his.

Just like that. Casual, without thought, Taehyung reaches for Yoongi with the hand not holding the cupcake and slides their palms together, intertwining their fingers.

It’s such a simple gesture but Yoongi loves it. It’s the way Taehyung keeps him close, a point of contact when the crowd gets a little busier, and his hand is so warm, so inviting.

Handholding is one of his favorite things and he hates that it’s so underrated. It’s intimate without being too much-- Yoongi’s not one for public displays but he’d happily hold Taehyung’s hand for the rest of the day.

Yoongi hopes Taehyung is ready for that.

Still, as they trade sips of hot chocolate and bites of cupcake, Yoongi marvels at Taehyung’s confident approach. His grip isn’t tight, Yoongi more than capable of letting go if he wanted, but he's starting to think Taehyung might be more hands-on than he’d thought at the beginning. In the way he’d unselfconsciously pulled Yoongi close, the seamless way he’d reached out for him, Taehyung seems very comfortable with the kind of clinginess that had made Yoongi’s other partners wary in the past.

Yoongi can only hope.

As afternoon fades into early evening and Yoongi’s feet start hurting, he curls a little tighter into Taehyung whenever they stop at a stall, holding his hand all the while. Yoongi doesn’t let go.

Taehyung doesn’t either.

Taehyung is so tired he could cry.

His train had been delayed for hours and it’s finally pulling into Seoul, well after dark and it might even be past midnight but he doesn’t even want to check the time.

He’d gone home to visit his family back in Daegu for a couple of weeks but he’d been antsy to return to the city. His family had noticed his eagerness and had teased him mercilessly, asking him what could be so important that he kept his phone on him at all times when usually, Taehyung was content enough to leave his cell in his room and forget about it until he went to bed at night.

When Taehyung unexpectedly blushed at his family’s gentle ribbing, he’d been almost as surprised as them. Because while he has the habit for falling for people for split seconds or a heavy moment, he’s never been so into someone like he is with Yoongi.

His dad had latched onto the name and with a raised brow, asked his son if things were serious, if he could see things becoming serious.

At that, Taehyung had felt his cheeks warm even more, if that was possible. He’s only been dating Yoongi for a couple of months but he’s so deep in like that he can already see it tipping over into something else, something more.

Which brings him back to now when he’s finally back in Seoul, hours after he’d told Yoongi he’d arrive. Yoongi was going to pick him up at the train station but Taehyung had texted him when he’d realized that the minor delay had become a dead end stop, letting his boyfriend know that it was hard to tell when he’d be back, that hyung you don’t need to pick me up, I’ll just see you on Wednesday for our usual movie night, no really it’s fine, I don’t want you to stick around a freezing train station just waiting for me for who knows how long.

The two of them had texted for a while, bickering lightly back and forth about everything from Yoongi insisting that it wasn’t a problem, he could just camp out at a coffee shop nearby, to debating how penguins pick the perfect pebble to give to their mates.

That was until Taehyung’s phone had died and had officially cemented this as the worst day he’s had all month.

He has a meeting early in the morning and it will be at least another hour after they finally arrive at the station before Taehyung will be walking into his apartment. He’d been hoping to enjoy a few hours with his boyfriend after being away for a couple weeks-- it was a little embarrassing maybe, how much he’d missed Yoongi-- but no, Taehyung will be lucky if he stumbles back to his place and manages a few hours sleep before he has to face a hectic day full of meetings and a long shoot in the afternoon that will probably also drag on past midnight by the time all’s said and done.

Taehyung is so tired, not just because of today but how it will have a definite and potentially disastrous domino effect on tomorrow, and he just wants to curl up and rest and reset.

Hearing the automated voice announce that they’ve reached their final destination, Taehyung sighs, grabs his bag and picks up his trash. He exits the train, following everyone else out in a zombie queue of fatigue and bitter resignation.

Tossing his trash in the nearest garbage can, Taehyung’s just debating whether to call a cab or take the bus to his place when a voice breaks through the din.

“Taehyung-ah?”

Startled, Taehyung looks up and stares dumbly at the person who’d called out. In the back of his mind, he officially puts one Min Yoongi on the list of most stubborn people he knows.

“Yoongi-hyung?”

His boyfriend smiles and while it starts as a hesitant, soft thing, it quickly moves to a full grin, visible gums and all. In his exhausted, drained haze, Taehyung’s breath catches at just how pretty Yoongi is and how lucky he is to be on the receiving end of such a look.

Before he can say anything though, Yoongi’s reaching for his bag and throwing it over his own shoulder, rushing out, “I know you said that I didn’t have to wait and I’m sorry if I overstepped and you want alone time but I didn’t think you’d want to have to mess with finding a ride home and--” Yoongi cuts off for a minute, seems to take a big uncertain breath before he softly trails off with, “and I missed you and wanted to see you, even if it’s only for a car ride home and you kind of look like death warmed over, no offense.”

Taehyung just stares at him, mouth slightly parted as he listens to the rambling explanation. There are butterflies erupting somewhere in him before he even fully takes in Yoongi’s words.

Before he quite knows what he’s doing, Taehyung steps closer to Yoongi and throws his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

The impact is solid and Taehyung hears Yoongi let out a little oof, then a thud as Taehyung’s duffel bag falls off Yoongi’s shoulder onto the ground.

Neither one pays any mind to it.

Yoongi is still for a moment and Taehyung’s brain has just started to come back online. He’s blearily wondering if he’d moved too fast-- for even though they’ve been dating for a couple of months, this is their first hug, the first time they’re so close together with hardly any space between them-- when Yoongi must get over the shock that is Taehyung, with his defenses down and his overwhelming need for physical affection, fairly launching himself at the object of said affections.

Yoongi slowly brings his arms up to wrap around Taehyung’s middle and they both melt into the touch, Yoongi’s squeezing just a little, just enough to bring them that much closer.

Sighing, Taehyung feels boneless as he buries his nose in Yoongi’s hair and just breathes.

He doesn’t feel like crying anymore, which is a definite plus, and even though he’s still exhausted and thinking about tomorrow, being surrounded by Yoongi tempers Taehyung’s edges in a way he hadn’t really been expecting.

Taehyung swings between exuberance and meditative, sometimes lightning quick. He enjoys both sides of himself but has found that touch is the best way to ground him or get him out of his head. Hugging is one of his favorite things in the world but there’s always a level of wariness when he approaches it with partners.

To most people, hugging is nothing special. To most partners, hugging is laughably casual while still carrying an undercurrent of tension.

Taehyung doesn’t feel that tension. He has often, however, felt pressure-- the pressure of knowing that hugging isn’t anywhere close to enough for a lot of people, the pressure of wondering when the right time is to tell his partner that hugging means quite a bit to him, that anything much beyond that is totally and completely out of the question.

As he holds Yoongi close, Taehyung marvels at how warm his hyung is, how solidly they fit together. Taehyung feels safe and comfortable, a little bit like a melting marshmallow, all gooey and warm and like he never wants to peel himself away from his boyfriend.

It’s hard to tell how long the two of them stay like that, just hugging in silence on a rapidly emptying train platform but Taehyung’s overwhelmingly content.

He can’t help but wonder, even in this blissful state, what will happen when Yoongi figures it out, when he asks for more and Taehyung has to shut him down. Their relationship is moving slowly, in measured little increments that’s vastly satisfying even if Taehyung’s worried what will happen when they reach the inexorable end.

To his relief, though, Yoongi also seems happy enough to wiggle closer and sigh into Taehyung’s neck. He doesn’t try anything else and Taehyung’s happy.

He really likes Yoongi and he likes what they’re building. And while there’s always apprehension during a new relationship, Taehyung finds himself wishing very much that Yoongi proves the exception to what he privately acknowledges is a bit of a dismal dating history.

Yoongi finally pulls back and he’s grinning softly at Taehyung. “Ready to go home and pass out?”

Groaning, Taehyung steps back and raising his arms above his head, stretching and trying to wake up a little bit. “God, yes.”

“Let’s go, then.” Yoongi grabs the bag again and hauls it over his shoulder, ignoring Taehyung’s protests.

As the two of them turn towards the parking lot outside, Yoongi reaches out without looking and snags Taehyung’s hand. Swinging their joined hands a little, Taehyung sees his boyfriend’s pleased smile and can’t help but echo it.

Less than an hour later, when Yoongi pulls up to Taehyung’s apartment building, his boyfriend is a perfect gentleman as he gets out to walk Taehyung to the door.

They exchange goodbyes, reminding each other of their weekly movie night plans, and Taehyung has just put his key into the lock when Yoongi clears his throat. “Wait.”

Turning around, Taehyung looks at him a little confused. Yoongi’s smile is shy and his cheeks are a little warm as he shuffles closer and pulls Taehyung into one last hug. He smells like coffee and the strawberry shampoo he favors and Taehyung closes his eyes as he leans into his boyfriend, glad that Yoongi is comfortable enough to ask for what he wants-- and very happy that they seem to be on the same wavelength, at least about this, at least so far.

Yoongi waits until Taehyung’s inside the building before he turns to leave and Taehyung’s last thought before he flings himself into his bed, finally, and falls into a dreamless sleep is that he’s even closer to falling off the edge of like than he’d thought.

Unlocking the door, Yoongi finally takes a deep breath, letting it back out in a deep sigh.

Today sucked.

If it wasn’t one thing it was another. He’d slept past his alarm, which never happens, and so he hadn’t had time for his morning coffee before he’d had to rush to a meeting with the new head of the creative department at his company.

They’d ripped his prospective title track to shreds-- something about it not fitting the girl group’s image, something else that included changing the comeback concept that had already been approved weeks ago, even though Yoongi had consulted with all of the members and they had been very enthusiastic about his ideas.

He has a bit of a reputation at the company. He’s been with them for almost a decade-- going back to his high school days when he’d hung around as an unpaid intern, all wide eyes and hungry for knowledge about an industry he was determined to make his mark in.

Yoongi’s worked hard to become one of the lead producers for the company. He knows his shit is good and it had been a very difficult pill to swallow, listening to a manager who was younger than him tell him that his music was uninspired and ill fitting when he’s been working with the group longer than the other man had even been in the industry.

Still, Yoongi had buried down his simmering resentment and listened to what his colleague had said, even going so far as to write down the man’s suggestions.

He’d then talked to the girls who had been outraged on his behalf and promised that they hadn’t said anything, which had gone a long way in smoothing Yoongi’s ruffled feathers. He respects creative differences and knows that he is but a background influence that ultimately answers to the artists he creates for. But he has known this group since their pre-debut days and had been stressed and a little annoyed if they had truly hated his idea but had just gone along with him anyway.

Knowing that was not the case, especially based on other things the girls had said about their new manager, Yoongi had gone back to his studio to see if inspiration would work its magic with a few tweaked ideas.

Never let it be said that Min Yoongi wasn’t willing to compromise.

But not before going to the head of the company for his monthly meeting. Thankfully, Hitman Bang had been in a good mood and the meeting had gone as it usually does-- mostly talking shit about others and bouncing ideas for next quarter comebacks.

Yoongi had brought up the new creative department manager, which had lead to a lengthy discussion and Yoongi had left the executive suite feeling his bad mood significantly tempered.

Until he’d decided to head to the coffee shop around the block to make up for his missed caffeine hit from his late start. He’d ordered his usual americano, with an extra shot, and had just been reaching for the front door when someone else had crashed through the entrance and Yoongi’s coffee-- without a single sip taken-- had landed all over his hoodie.

The man had been an asshole about it, too. Had barely offered a half-ass apology before he’d walked up to the line and had taken a call right there in the busy shop, talking far too loudly and aggressively and looking patently unconcerned with the looks everyone else was throwing him.

Yoongi had stood by the door for a moment, the heat of the coffee stinging his stomach a little and had closed his eyes while he carefully, slowly, counted to fifty.

Deciding not to risk another incident, he’d just looked down at his ruined clothes and walked out of the coffee shop, going back to his studio where he thankfully kept a change of clothes.

Alas, his concentration was shot and Yoongi, even though clean and dry in a new pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, couldn’t focus. He’d grabbed his phone, hoping Taehyung might’ve spammed him with cute pictures of dogs as he’s wont to do but nothing.

Yoongi slumps in his chair and even if he’s judging himself, that doesn’t stop him from opening his message thread with Taehyung.

The last text is from two days ago and Yoongi knows that’s not long, not long at all, but he’s having a shitty day and he could really use his boyfriend right now.

Taehyung’s busy, though, and Yoongi won’t bother him just because he’s feeling a little whiny and tired. Something about pulling overtime for a magazine fuck-up that had mandated Taehyung retake and re-edit an entire shoot with a very tight turnaround.

Yoongi thinks about sending an encouraging message, something that doesn’t require a response but might make Taehyung smile if he happens to glance at his phone for a minute, but Yoongi doesn’t want to seem clingy or distract his boyfriend from work.

Yoongi knows he himself can be a terror when working under a deadline and sympathizes.

So, he fucks around a little on his software but doesn’t make much progress. His stomach rumbles but he’s too tired to get up and do anything about it so he just sits in his chair instead like a sad lump of unmolded clay. Spends more time staring into space than getting any work done, but Yoongi perseveres, at least long enough so that he doesn’t feel guilty leaving too early.

It’s not like anyone around here keeps a regular schedule but there’s a piece of Yoongi that doesn't want his bad day to have too much power over him.

The days are short and night falls quicker now that it’s the shitty time of winter, after the holidays when everything is just gray and sad and dingy.

Huddling in his coat, Yoongi makes it back to his apartment with single-minded focus, so drained that he fumbles with his keys.

Yeah, today really sucked but at least he’s home now and doesn’t have to be a person until morning.

His apartment is dark and he quickly changes into pajamas-- an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants he’s had since his college days.

He’s just ready to put something on Netflix, something he’s already seen a few dozen times, and enter a fugue state until it’s time for bed, when his doorbell rings.

Standing in the middle of his living room, Yoongi stares at the door intently, wondering who the fuck it could be. He’s not in the mood for Hoseok or Jin, knows that Namjoon is away in L.A. for a few weeks working on a private project.

Wondering if his day is about to be capped by being bludgeoned to death, Yoongi swings the door open. Everything rights itself as he leans against the door and takes in his unexpected visitor.

Because there his boyfriend is, smiling even though he looks tired himself and holding a bag that smells suspiciously, deliciously, like fried chicken.

“Special delivery,” Taehyung says hopefully and waves the bag around a little.

Holding the door open wider so he can come in, Yoongi asks, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a deadline?”

Handing Yoongi the bag as he takes his shoes and coat off, Taehyung hums. “And I nailed it! Finished a few hours early and decided to surprise you with dinner and a quiet night in.”

At this, he turns toward Yoongi and takes him in, smiling softly. “It looks like we could both use it.”

Nodding numbly, Yoongi goes into the kitchen to set the bags down and then turns back to Taehyung. Not expecting that, Taehyung bumps right into him but Yoongi just pulls him closer and tucks his head under his boyfriend’s chin. Breathing deep, he lets himself be held and lets a lot of the tension that had kept his spine stiff and resolute finally melt away.

That leaves exhaustion though, and Yoongi is almost dizzy with it-- he hasn’t been sleeping well lately and this bad day has just exacerbated things.

He lifts his head up to thank his boyfriend for such a lovely, welcomed surprise just as Taehyung ducks down to presumably kiss his hair. Because Yoongi’s moved though, the two end up kissing each other right on the mouth.

It’s just a peck, closed-mouth and over in a flash but it sends warmth trickling through Yoongi’s nerves. They’ve been dating for a few months and while there have been hugs and handholding and kisses on cheeks and hair, this is their first kiss, really.

If Yoongi’s being honest, he’s been waiting for this. Really, he’s been waiting for Taehyung to get impatient with the glacial pace of their relationship and to address it but his boyfriend seems happy enough-- very happy indeed-- to follow his lead and to show his affection in the several ways they’ve established so far that are very okay and very much in demand.

He hears Taehyung gasp when their lips disconnect and there’s a moment where the two of them stare at each other, wide eyed and surprised. But then Yoongi’s heart melts as he sees Taehyung’s cheeks flush warm pink, as he sees that boxy grin take over his boyfriend’s face but this time with a flustered edge.

“Was that okay,” Yoongi whispers, tilting his head up so that he can make eye contact with Taehyung. It’s not always easy for him but Yoongi wants to be sure they’re on the same page, wants to make sure that they’re both enjoying where things are taking them.

“So okay,” Taehyung whispers back before lowering his head until Yoongi feels his breath on his lips. “Want to do it again?”

And all Yoongi can think to say is, “Yes, please,” and he closes his eyes as he feels Taehyung kiss him again, mouth warm and gentle. They move together slowly, taking their time, learning each other in this new way, so exciting even if there’s no particular heat behind it.

Yoongi loses himself in Taehyung, in being surrounded and held close and in the gentle way Taehyung wants him.

It’s not too much. Right now, it’s just enough.

Yoongi smiles into the kiss, soft and slow, and Taehyung mirrors him until they’re grinning so much that they can’t keep kissing. He giggles as Taehyung takes that as an opportunity to plant smacking kisses over his face, squeezing him close until they’re breathless.

Without thinking, Yoongi murmurs, “Love this.”

He doesn’t freeze but his mind stills for a split second as Taehyung hears him, as his boyfriend kisses his ear and replies, “Love this, too.”

The two of them finally break away and Yoongi clears his throat, flustered and very much happy, as he turns toward the chicken that’s probably a little cold by now.

A few minutes later, they’re settling on the couch, plates full as they share the middle cushion. Yoongi asks what Taehyung’s in the mood to watch but he’s vague, hands the decision right back into Yoongi’s court.

So Yoongi puts on some sort of space documentary that he’s seen before. It’s a little dry but interesting enough when one doesn’t have the focus for anything better.

His apartment is silent besides the narrator’s voice on the television. Outside it starts to sleet, icy rain hitting the windows at a good clip. The little noise breaks Yoongi’s attention, makes him look over to where Taehyung is taking a sip of his drink, eyes not leaving the television as he learns some mathematical theorem that goes over Yoongi’s head, no matter that this is the third time he’s watching this documentary.

The weather is dismal tonight and Yoongi quietly thinks about offering Taehyung the option to stay the night. That’s something else they haven’t done yet and Yoongi’s a little nervous to bring it up, now, when they’ve just shared their first kiss.

He wonders if Taehyung will take that as an invitation, if he’ll think that Yoongi-- now that he’s comfortable with one form of intimacy, if he’ll throw open the door to more.

Yoongi very much will not be opening that door.

But he’s not an asshole and a part of him thinks that maybe he should just get it over with. Tell his boyfriend that kisses are okay-- good, great, amazing-- but that’s all Yoongi will ever want.

He’s loathe to do that, especially right now, today. He’s had a shitty day and the thought of confronting Taehyung’s desires-- even facing his questions seems like too much right now.

Really, Yoongi just wants to stay like this, as close to Taehyung as he can get. No pressure for anything else.

Taehyung finishes eating first. He puts his empty plate on the coffee table and leans back into the couch, throwing an arm over Yoongi’s shoulders.

Smiling as he takes a bite of rice, Yoongi settles deeper into Taehyung’s side. He doesn’t realize the breath he’s let out until Taehyung breaks the little spell that’s fallen over them.

“How was your day?”

With a little laugh, Yoongi shakes his head. “Incredibly shitty,” he replies dryly.

Taehyung hums, thumb brushes over his shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Yoongi finishes dinner, sets his plate next to Tae’s, and just as he starts to resettle, he reconsiders.

He hesitates for a moment, looking down as he thinks. When he looks up, his boyfriend is watching him with patient eyes, as though just waiting for Yoongi to make a decision.

So he does. They’ve long since established that Taehyung likes touch-- holding hands, hugs, the casual barely conscious gestures that are as easy to him as breathing.

Yoongi is a little more reticent. It often takes ages for him to warm up to someone but Taehyung makes him feel so warm and he wants him so much that he decides not to overthink things for once.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and very studiously avoids eye contact as he moves, shifting so that he’s curled into Taehyung’s side, throwing his legs over one of Taehyung’s. He reaches for the blanket he keeps on the back of his couch and settles it over them, smoothing it out just to draw out the moment.

Finally, he releases his breath and very carefully eases his head down until he’s resting on Taehyung’s shoulder.

He waits for Taehyung to say something, to move, but his boyfriend doesn’t do any of that. He just wraps his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder, lets it sweep down his back until his hand brushes his hip.

It’s nice. It’s beyond nice and just what Yoongi needs to end this hell of a day. He all but melts against Taehyung and he feels Taehyung’s smile as he kisses the top of his head.

They watch the rest of the documentary like that, cozy and wrapped around each other. Towards the end, Yoongi’s eyes start drifting closed and he brushes his nose over Taehyung’s chest, snuggling closer.

Taehyung huffs out a laugh but doesn’t say anything, just readjusts the blanket.

When the documentary is over, Yoongi’s barely conscious. He feels Taehyung shifting, though, like he’s getting up, and he wraps his arms around him tighter. “No,” he mumbles, voice muffled since he’s talking into Taehyung’s shirt.

Taehyung brushes a hand through Yoongi’s hair and Yoongi leans into the gesture, silently asking for more.

Taehyung obliges but quietly says, “I should probably get going, hyung. It’s getting late and the weather’s turned to shit. I want to make sure I catch the last bus home.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. “Stay.”

Taehyung stills and in Yoongi’s sleepy brain, an inkling starts that maybe Taehyung doesn’t want to stay. He opens his mouth to back track, to make sure he doesn’t feel any pressure, but his boyfriend beats him to it.

“You want me to spend the night?”

His voice sounds a little vulnerable and that’s what makes Yoongi straighten, blanket dropping around him as he looks up and finally takes in his face.

Taehyung blinks but he’s biting his lip nervously.

Yoongi nods and reaches up, gently tugging Taehyung’s bottom lip from his teeth. He brushes his thumb over Tae’s cheek, watches him slowly blink.

“I want you to spend the night,” Yoongi says simply. “You’ve had a hard week and I don’t want you out in this kind of weather if I can help it. Plus, you’re better than a pillow,” he grins.

Taehyung grins too, quick and bright, before it dims a little and he’s staring at Yoongi with a look in his eye that’s a little too intense for so late at night. “Just to sleep?”

“Yeah?” It’s Yoongi’s turn to blink. “I haven’t slept more than three hours a night this month and I’m about to pass out. There’s no way we’re doing anything but sleeping. Are you not tired?”

His mind is a little fuzzy and he feels a little dumb but it’s almost midnight and he had been so close to sleep before Taehyung had started to leave. He just wants to get back to that point as quickly as possible. He really hopes Taehyung doesn’t want to put another movie on-- his couch is comfortable but his bed is even more so and he doesn’t want to actually fall asleep just to have to drag himself to bed later.

Taehyung watches him for an impenetrable moment before he’s smiling again and standing abruptly. Yoongi groans as he almost falls face first where Taehyung was just sitting and Tae laughs as he hauls Yoongi up too, tangled in the blanket.

“Time to sleep,” Taehyung says brightly and Yoongi groans again but doesn’t try to hide his smile as he lets the blanket fall to the floor.

Deciding to leave it until morning, he forgets about the blanket as he guides Taehyung down the hallway, towards his bedroom. He has an extra toothbrush and offers Taehyung some clothes to change into and they stumble through a night time routine that’s remarkably comfortable, for all it’s their first time.

Yoongi blames it on the fact that he’s too tired to give a shit and as soon as he’s done, he falls into bed. Taehyung joins him seconds later and without thinking, Yoongi’s scooting closer, shifting until he’s right back where he was on the couch.

He settles against Taehyung’s side, laying his head over his heart and sighing deep as he wraps an arm around Taehyung’s middle.

Taehyung, for his part, seems comfortable, relaxing into the sheets and tangling their legs together. One of his arms sweeps down Yoongi’s back and it feels so good-- Yoongi is quickly falling back asleep-- until his boyfriend’s hand lands on his hip.

Yoongi stiffens a little as Taehyung’s hand slides under his shirt to rest against the bare skin of his lower back.

Suddenly more awake, Yoongi’s unaccountably nervous. Only now does it occur to him what Taehyung might have meant when he asked if they’d just be sleeping and he feels a little stupid for not picking up the hint earlier.

Still, Taehyung’s breathing slow and deep-- he might even already be asleep-- and Yoongi knows that he doesn’t have anything to worry about, that at least for tonight he could shy away and talk to him tomorrow, lay all his cards out on the table and deal with the fallout then.

He’s so deep into his thoughts, wondering if that hand is innocent or if there’s deeper meaning lingering in the touch, when Taehyung suddenly stills.

He deliberately moves his hand an inch, moves his thumb over the sensitive skin of Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi shivers but holds his breath.

“This okay?” Taehyung whispers the question into his ear, kisses it for good measure.

Knowing all the ways this could blow up in his face, Yoongi pushes up to his elbows and makes out Taehyung’s face in the moonlight. His eyes are sleepy but there’s a focus there and it’s all on Yoongi.

He doesn’t answer right away, takes stock. The truth is, he has no problems with this-- as long as this is what it stays.

He likes being close to Taehyung, likes when his boyfriend pulls him closer, stakes a claim even.

And Taehyung’s hand is warm, almost burning on his back, and it feels good, damned good.

Shaking his head a little, Yoongi eventually says, “It’s fine.” His voice is low as he tacks on, “No more, though.”

Part of him thinks that Taehyung might protest. Even if it’s late, even if neither of them had intentions, Yoongi’s been with people in the past who took one no as an always no-- and while it would be an always no from him, Yoongi didn’t want to deal with that headache tonight.

Thankfully, it looks like his momentary stress was unneeded. Taehyung just grins, sleepy at the edges, and pulls Yoongi down to kiss him. It’s firm but closed mouth and when he ends it a few seconds later, he gently guides Yoongi back to their previous position.

“No more,” he agrees easily enough.

It feels like Taehyung falls asleep the next minute, hand heavy on Yoongi’s back, breathing even.

Yoongi, for his part, knows that he’s not far behind.

Curling into Taehyung’s warmth, Yoongi sleeps better than he has in weeks. His last thought before passing out is that he’s so glad he met Taehyung, so happy that they’re here now, that he has someone who listens and cares and seems fine with going slowly.

Burying his face in Taehyung’s neck, Yoongi sighs, kisses his pulse, and falls asleep.

Without opening his eyes, Taehyung knows that it’s midmorning. The sun is bright against his eyelids and he shies away from it, buries his face in a messy mop of hair that smells like strawberries.

It’s only when the body attached to the messy hair wiggles a little that Taehyung wakes up enough to notice their position.

Now, Taehyung knows that he needs something to hold on to when he’s sleeping. In Jimin’s more colorful words, he’s a goddamn octopus-- and like the predator, will only squeeze you tighter if you try to escape.

It is what it is, as far as he’s concerned. However, things always get a little more complicated when he starts sleeping with someone new.

Yoongi-- so far at least-- is proving to be the exception to every rule Taehyung’s got.

They’ve been together for months at this point and Taehyung has taken to sleeping over at least once a week. Ever since that first time when he’d surprised Yoongi with dinner and had stayed late enough for his boyfriend to offer, it’s become a new little tradition of theirs.

Taehyung will come over for movie nights and almost always ends up spending the night. It’s a nice routine they’ve settled into, spicing it up occasionally with a weekend too, or a night at Taehyung’s, though that happens less often because he lives with Jimin.

It’s been weeks of them sleeping together and Taehyung loves it. He was uncertain that first night when Yoongi had asked him to stay. He’s taken dates up on that in the past, only for them to clearly have meant something by it.

That night, Taehyung was wiped out from fixing a screw-up with work and Yoongi had clearly had the day from hell but Taehyung’s always been a little amazed and repulsed at just how frequently people like to have sex, no matter their mood. He’d taken a chance on Yoongi, though, and it had paid off.

It was nice and easy getting ready for bed together and Yoongi’s thread count is definitely higher than his own because his hyung’s bed felt like a cloud and Taehyung had been sinking fast.

So fast, he’d been mostly asleep when he’d slipped a hand under his boyfriend’s shirt-- Taehyung likes skinship, especially when falling asleep with someone-- and hadn’t really noticed anything amiss until he’d realized Yoongi was stiff as a board on top of him.

He’d been so enjoying this new level of their relationship-- they kissed! Yoongi was comfortable enough to cuddle with him! They were sleeping in the same bed!-- but as soon as he’d realized, Taehyung had been stressed, even mostly asleep.

Wondering if Yoongi was going to take his hand as an invitation-- or perhaps they just weren’t ready yet-- he’d been very relieved when Yoongi had let the hand stay with a firm order of nothing else.

Taehyung was beyond happy to stick to Yoongi’s limits, especially considering his own would’ve been damn near identical.

When they’d woken up the next morning, Taehyung had been wrapped around Yoongi, which is not dissimilar to how they are now.

Yoongi makes a very good little spoon, curving back into Taehyung, limp and soft around the edges.

Taehyung has a leg over Yoongi’s hip, an arm slung low over his middle, fingers brushing over the bare skin of his stomach. His nose is in Yoongi’s hair, a little ticklish but too nice to make him move away.

This isn’t the first time Taehyung’s woken up like this, but each time there’s a tiny almost imperceptible but definitely present sliver of dread that spreads through him. There’s not an inch of space between them and Taehyung worries that it’s too much, too intimate or suggestive.

Every morning they wake up together, Taehyung wonders if this will be the time Yoongi wants more. They’ve been dating for almost five months but Yoongi has yet to even hint that he wants to have sex.

Most of his relationships have ended right around this time. When his partners realize that Taehyung isn’t a prude or just shy, when they finally understand that Taehyung means it when he says sex will not be happening and that time won’t change his mind, that nothing can change his mind on the matter.

Yoongi is such a gentleman, though. His grumpy hyung, Taehyung thinks sleepily with a grin. Yoongi never pushes Taehyung, never makes it feel like he’s just waiting for Taehyung to give the green light. He acts sincerely pleased and satisfied with what they do now. The cuddling is a wonderfully often thing these days, Yoongi soaking up affection like a sun-soaked kitten.

Then there’s the kissing. Things get a little heated sometimes but Yoongi never reaches for more, seems content enough to sit in Taehyung’s lap and hold him close and kiss him until he’s breathless.

Taehyung’s never waited so long to tell his partner that he’s ace but things are going so well with Yoongi. He doesn’t want to jinx it.

Which brings him to now. While Taehyung rarely likes to look a gift horse in the mouth, he’s well aware that many people wake up in a certain mood.

Thankfully, things have never been awkward with Yoongi but every morning, Taehyung wonders if this is it, if Yoongi will turn around and kiss Taehyung but keep going past his limits.

Granted, Yoongi doesn’t know his limits and would never play fast and loose with them if he did but it’s usually the kind of thing one learns in the heat of the moment, at least in Taehyung’s experience.

It’s starting to be a bit much, if Taehyung’s being honest. He’s getting tired of worrying about Yoongi’s reactions to things. He’s a perfect boyfriend-- grumpy yes but also soft and encouraging and attentive. He listens to Taehyung and surprises him with date ideas or little gifts that he says just remind him of Taehyung, always checks in when he knows Taehyung has something big going on.

He can talk to Yoongi about everything-- well most everything-- and his hyung makes him laugh and fills him with so much fondness that he knows it’s love at this point.

Not that he’s said anything, at least not yet, but Taehyung knows he’s rapidly reaching the point where he won’t be able to hold the words back-- not when Yoongi bowls a strike and does his funny little dance or when he’s cooking in Taehyung and Jimin’s tiny kitchen and trying to teach them too or when he’s working on song lyrics and looks so completely in his own little world that Taehyung’s left captivated by how pretty and talented his boyfriend is.

Taehyung’s so gone for Yoongi.

But every time he realizes that, he remembers that there’s a very important piece of himself that he hasn’t shared. He remembers that it affects their relationship, that it could bruise or even break it.

Taehyung doesn’t like to admit it but the prospect of Yoongi not being okay with things-- being so patient only under the guise that eventually everything would come to fruition-- makes Taehyung’s gut coil with dread.

Those thoughts and their implications are getting harder to ignore but whenever Yoongi starts wiggling around again, this time with purpose, it’s still so easy to put it on the back burner.

It’s hard to focus on tomorrow’s uncertainty when he has Yoongi in his arms, soft with sleep and smiling up at him with eyes narrowed against the sun.

“Morning,” Yoongi says softly, voice so low it’s almost indecipherable.

Humming a silly little tune, Taehyung leans down and kisses Yoongi. “Good morning, hyung.”

The two of them rest like that and Taehyung is almost positive Yoongi’s falling back asleep.

Taehyung doesn’t know how long they sleep like that, sheets warming under the morning sun until it’s almost too hot. He doesn’t move though, stuck in the sticky sweet feeling of being so close to Yoongi.

He’s learned a lot about Yoongi since they started dating. It took ages for Yoongi to become comfortable with him but Taehyung has patience to spare when it counts and watching his Suga-hyung-- as he’s taken to calling his boyfriend just to see him blush-- get to the point where he doesn’t hesitate to reach out, to ask for affection, makes Taehyung’s heart bloom with a combination of pride and fondness.

Yoongi curls up tighter into Taehyung. His breath is warm and slow against Taehyung’s neck and there’s no place he’d rather be, then right here.

They have plans to meet their friends later for dinner but until then, it’s just the two of them, wrapped around each other, enjoying the closeness.

This is Taehyung’s favorite kind of intimacy, when he’s so close to someone else that his own edges are blurred. He doesn’t need more than this, definitely doesn’t want anything else. For now, he rests with Yoongi and decides not to worry about expectations or confessions.

The quiet beckons when Yoongi’s the one he’s sharing it with. Taehyung wiggles down until they’re ’re face to face, ignoring his boyfriend grumbling about how he was already comfortable.

“Suga-hyung,” Taehyung whispers and Yoongi’s eyelids flutter even if he keeps them closed. His smile peaks out though, small and shy, and he ducks his head to keep Taehyung from seeing.

Yoongi’s too adorable, Taehyung thinks and he just knows his face is doing something stupid, his heart eyes out full force, his grin so wide his cheeks ache with the fondness of it all.

Shifting closer, he’s surprised when Yoongi’s the one who closes the last bit of distance between them. Eyes still closed, his lips find Taehyung’s and he sighs into the kiss, something soft and slow that makes Taehyung feel like melting chocolate.

They spend most of the morning like that, trading kisses between dozing and it’s Taehyung’s idea of perfection, his official favorite way to start the day.

Taehyung kisses like spun sugar with a molten edge and Yoongi can’t get enough. His boyfriend lets out these tiny little sounds, low whimpers, and Yoongi makes them his own.

Breaking apart for a split second to catch his breath, Yoongi dives back in. Taehyung’s hands sweep down, from resting against his throat all the way down to his hips and then he’s tugging Yoongi up, nudging him until he gets the hint.

Yoongi keeps kissing him as he’s half-lifted, half scrambles into his boyfriend’s lap. He’s so warm and Yoongi leans into it, just a little desperate.

It’s fun to lose himself in Taehyung-- in his hands, surrounded by his scent, lost in the way Taehyung keeps him close, then closer still.

They don’t do this often but sometimes Yoongi gets in a mood. Sometimes Taehyung looks at him and his gaze-- always intense-- burns straight through him. For Yoongi, this is one of his final doors unlocked and left open.

Taehyung walks through it like he’s done with all the rest-- tentatively, and then once it’s established that they’re both okay with the latest boundary line, with a shameless kind of enthusiasm.

Kissing is intimate for Yoongi and it had taken him a long time to realize that just because he liked it-- not just greeting pecks and chaste morning kisses-- but the way warmth flows throw him when he’s breathing someone else’s air, the slow sometimes desperate sweep of tongue, the bite-then-soothe rhythm that makes his mind all hazy at the edges, didn’t mean he had to like the rest.

In college, there had been enough drunken makeout sessions in corners of low lit living rooms or the dark edges of a bar’s dance floor for Yoongi to realize that he liked kissing well enough but enjoyed it far more when he knew the person, when there was an extra level of safety and fondness that just made everything that much better, that much easier to let himself go.

In college, he’d also learned that most people took Yoongi’s enjoyment for consent to everything else. He’d had more than one person call him a tease, tell him that he’d lead them on.

For most people, these kinds of kisses would only be a precursor to more but this, right here, is Yoongi’s happy place.

Taehyung’s hair is messy with the way Yoongi’s been running his hands through it. He holds Yoongi securely, close but not tight, and he hums into the kiss, wanting but not needy.

Taehyung hasn’t ever hinted for more-- never urged Yoongi past his comfort zone. There’s no desperate bucking of hips, no pulling and grinding, nothing but Taehyung’s mouth, warm and eager, and his hands wandering over Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi startles a little, though, as Taehyung’s hands smooth down to land on his ass, not groping or aggressive, just resting. He pulls back because this is new territory and even though Taehyung doesn’t seem especially eager for more, Yoongi needs to know what he’s thinking, if his wandering hands are trying to guide Yoongi into something else.

After all, they’ve been dating for almost six months and this is the most they’ve done. Yoongi knows by now that his boyfriend possesses the patience of a saint, that he’s guilelessly happy no matter what they’re doing, but Yoongi’s never made it this far into a relationship without The Talk happening.

He’s breathing a little fast and takes a few seconds to catch his breath, to settle. Taehyung lets him but can’t seem to resist a quick nip to his bottom lip before he noses along Yoongi’s jaw.

His hands are still on Yoongi’s ass, warm even through denim.

“Taehyungie,” Yoongi whispers, taking a deep breath and meeting his boyfriend’s eyes. “Your hands are on my butt,” he says plainly, part question.

Taehyung grins, pats his ass like he’s proud of himself. “You have a very cute butt, Yoongi-ah,” he replies seriously. His lips twitch into a smile he tries to tamp down.

Despite feeling his cheeks warm, Yoongi wraps his arms around Taehyung’s neck and leans in until their foreheads are touching. “Are you trying to get into my pants, Taehyung-ah?”

Watching the way Taehyung’s eyes widen, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at the panicked look that flares in his boyfriend’s eyes but he keeps his expression the same-- encouraging but carefully blank.

“What-- no, hyung, I promise I’m not trying to get into your pants! You’re just very pretty like this and I wasn’t lying when I said your butt is very cute and soft and I-- Well, I guess I just touched it without thinking,” Taehyung ends sheepishly before lifting his hands off Yoongi entirely and letting them rest in the space between them.

His head is bowed low now so Yoongi can’t read his face but he knows Taehyung. It’s been almost six months and his Taehyungie hasn’t ever been anything but honest with him.

Ignoring the brief stab of guilt that he can’t say the same right now, Yoongi just stares down at the top of Taehyung’s head and wonders where this puts them.

He doesn’t have any particular problems with Taehyung’s hands on his ass. It was just the implication that this could be leading to more that had made Yoongi pause and reconsider. But if this is what it stays-- just kissing and affectionate little touches-- he’s more than okay with that.

Biting his lip a little as he thinks, Yoongi finally clears his throat and offers, “You can put your hands back.”

Looking up, Taehyung studies his face with a combination of wariness and pleasant surprise. “Are you sure,” he asks. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I want to make sure you know that I’m not expecting anything else. This is fine-- great, perfect-- and I am more than okay with how things are right now.”

Smiling at how his boyfriend is always so eager to make sure they’re both comfortable, Yoongi feels his blush deepen as he reaches for Taehyung’s hands and brings them around until they’re firmly planted on his ass.

“I’m sure,” he says with a grin. He tilts Taehyung’s chin up and like this, straddling him, Yoongi’s taller. “As long as you’re really okay that this is all we do.”

His voice drops a little and there’s a shiver of smugness as he sees the way his boyfriend’s eyes darken at his tone. “I really like kissing you, Taehyung-ah. Want to keep doing that for awhile, if that’s okay with you.”

Taehyung swallows, eyes dropping to Yoongi’s lips. He seems almost dazed as he replies, “That’s fine, hyung. More than fine. Love kissing you, my sweet Suga-hyung,” in a low tone, eyes shining in a mix of anticipation and delight.

Yoongi’s still smiling when he lowers until he’s sitting in Taehyung’s lap, hands clasped behind his neck as he plays with hair at Taehyung’s nape, long and a little grown out.

Humming into the kiss, Taehyung relaxes and things pick back up where they left off.

There’s just something about Taehyung that makes Yoongi’s defenses shatter, almost on their own. He still worries about Taehyung’s reaction-- has talked to Namjoon and Jin and Hobi enough that they’re probably sick of him-- but when they’re like this, just the two of them sharing the same breath, Yoongi really can’t imagine anything changing.

He knows that’s probably naive, that there’s no way he could be lucky enough to find someone so completely okay with never having sex, someone who could find the same ease and contentment in simple kissing but he thinks Taehyung has to come pretty close.

Losing track of time, Yoongi and Taehyung don’t come up for air until the shadows grow long over his apartment, until the sun’s almost completely set and he feels warm and gooey at the edges, just a little sleepy, like Taehyung had poured his warmth into him until he was overflowing.

His mouth feels a little numb, swollen and throbbing lightly and when he pulls back a scant inch, Taehyung’s eyes are dark and Yoongi almost loses himself in the way his boyfriend watches him, not seeming to miss a thing.

But then Taehyung grins and it’s wide and open and desperately satisfied. He leans in until his nose brushes Yoongi’s and Yoongi’s own smile deepens until he can barely see and he just knows his gums are showing.

“Cutie,” Taehyung whispers and it sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Taehyung. He knows there are stars in his eyes and in this moment, it slides home, everything that Taehyung makes him feel.

They fit together in a way Yoongi’s never really had, especially not with a partner. He makes Yoongi laugh, makes him feel safe and like there’s no place he’d rather be than right at his side.

Yoongi suddenly knows that this is it, this is love. He’s in love with Taehyung and the realization isn’t a dousing of cold water but more like sinking into a warm bath.

On its heels, though, is the apprehension of wondering what his boyfriend will say when he finally comes clean. His smile doesn’t falter and he still hugs Taehyung close for long minutes after the kissing is over, when they’re catching their breath and letting things simmer back down to simply enjoying each other’s closeness.

Still, Yoongi’s brain flies startling quick in the background, knowing that he has to tell Taehyung soon that he’s ace and that being okay with kissing for now has to mean being okay with kissing always.

Slowly, his heart slows to match Taehyung’s and he hums as Taehyung plays absently with his hair, as his other hand moves to rest against his back in a gesture that’s become almost expected.

Soon, Yoongi thinks. He’ll tell Taehyung soon and deal with whatever fallout emerges as best he can.

Taehyung turns off the water, reaches for a towel and absently wraps it around his waist.

He’d stayed the night at Yoongi’s again and the two of them have plans to spend the entire weekend together. The weather is supposed to be pleasant-- sunny and warm but not hot-- and they’re starting things off with brunch at home before Yoongi’s taking him to a tech expo.

Taehyung’s already made dinner reservations at a spot nearby, aims to surprise Yoongi with dinner on their patio. Afterwards, they’re going to an evening exhibition of a local art museum that Taehyung had bought tickets to months before.

It’s their six month anniversary and as he gets dressed, Taehyung finds himself smiling, something bright and happy at the way they’ve grown together the past half-year.

Things are so good with Yoongi. They’ve had a few disagreements-- when Yoongi brushed him off for a week because his mental health had made everything hard and exhausting and he hadn’t wanted to drag Taehyung down with him or when Taehyung had become uncharacteristically short with Yoongi for a few days, work riding him hard and his frustration and stress had plopped itself right in the middle of their relationship.

They talked, though, and those minor blips only served to make them stronger.

Still, it’s been six months and they haven’t talked about sex. Taehyung has a deep and abiding love for kissing and realizing that Yoongi felt the same, that this was something else they could enjoy together, had made Taehyung light up from the inside, all warm and fuzzy with the feelings Yoongi brings out in him.

At this point, Taehyung doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Six months is a long time to keep something like this under wraps and no matter how Jungkook and Jimin tell him that Yoongi is so gone for him that there’s no question, they’ll make it through this even better than before, Taehyung’s been burned in the past and it’s that lingering fear that keeps him in place now.

Yoongi never pressures him, never hints that he’s unsatisfied with things. They’ve reached a point where they’re almost too comfortable with each other.

Taehyung’s unselfconscious about nudity and Yoongi doesn’t mind when he leaves the shower, using his towel to rub at his hair instead of to cover his modesty. Yoongi, by contrast, is still shy and had only recently become comfortable enough to walk around shirtless when Taehyung’s around.

They’ve grown so much and Taehyung knows the little things about Yoongi that can both drive him crazy and make him feel like he’s going to explode in a mess of fondness and love. He knows how his boyfriend takes his tea, what his go-to candle scent is, the most effective ways to get him out of his head when he’s on the edge of drowning.

And Yoongi knows him, too. He knows that Taehyung doesn’t like coffee but has an unabashed weakness for smoothies. He knows when to dig in his heels about something and when to let Taehyung come to him. Yoongi sometimes surprises him with how observant he is, even when it seems like he wasn’t paying attention to something to begin with.

All of which bring Taehyung to now. Taehyung keeps a few things over at Yoongi’s now and he takes his time getting ready, the strong smell of coffee and vanilla letting him know that Yoongi’s well underway in cooking breakfast.

Makeup done, just enough to define his eyes and make his complexion flawless, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair and heads toward the hallway that will open up into the living room and kitchen.

The thoughts about finally telling Yoongi have been weighing heavier in his mind and when he sees his boyfriend, cracking eggs into a large glass bowl in between sips of coffee, Taehyung’s mind blanks at the perfect picture in front of him.

He blames that for the way his mouth just acts on its own.

“Is anything missing with us, hyung?”

Yoongi looks up from the eggs and frowns as he meets Taehyung’s gaze. “No?”

While Taehyung’s internal yelling at himself for broaching the subject today of all days when things are going so well and it’s supposed to be a calm, no-stress weekend, he just repeats, “No?” His voice is tight with suspicion. He supposes that now that he’s started, he might as well just finish things.

Yoongi squints at him. “No. Do you think anything is lacking between us?”

Taken aback, Taehyung just blinks. “Of course not.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to say something-- eyes flicking to the side, avoiding his gaze-- but he doesn’t. “Okay.”

And apparently Taehyung’s brain has just lost all sense because he doesn’t leave well enough alone. Yoongi seems uneasy and Taehyung doesn’t want him to feel bad even if he can’t give him what he wants.

Deciding to just go for it, Taehyung takes a deep breath. “Do you want to have sex,” he asks bluntly.

Yoongi, who had been taking a drink from his coffee, chokes. Taehyung rushes over and pats him on the back, maybe a little too hard in his panicked zeal and Yoongi winces, coughing a little.

Yoongi recovers from the brink of death a little too fast, if Taehyung is being completely honest because it’s just moments later that the kitchen is completely silent and waiting for an answer is becoming agonizing.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a long while and Taehyung’s nerves are crackling at what it must mean. His boyfriend must be trying to find a delicate way to let Taehyung know that he’s patient but he’s definitely waiting.

Now that he’s not coughing a lung out, Yoongi’s facade has shifted into something blank. Taehyung can’t get a read on him, which is concerning since he’s prided himself on learning his boyfriend over the past several months. Yoongi is never blank with him, not anymore.

Finally, Yoongi clears his throat. Instead of answering, though, he just flips the tables. “Do you want to have sex?”

And Taehyung’s brain is fried from the past four minutes so he just answers without thinking too much about it. “No,” he says, firm but with an undercurrent of nervousness.

Yoongi stills. Looks up until he’s looking right into Taehyung’s eyes. “No?”

His voice is soft, aching with uncertainty, and Taehyung suddenly feels so, so bad that Yoongi must think that he’s not into him or something else equally as wrong and off the mark.

It takes more courage than Taehyung thought he had, to maintain eye contact and to finally say what’s been hiding on his tongue all along. “Yoongi-hyung, I love you but I don’t want to have sex with you. I’ll never want to have sex with you.”

Taehyung expects Yoongi to look shocked, maybe a little offended.

Yoongi proves him right on the first count, eyes going wide as he stares at Taehyung like he doesn’t know him. However, instead of going on the defensive, it’s like all of Yoongi’s strings have been cut and he fairly collapses into Taehyung, burying his face in Tae’s sweater.

“Oh, thank God.” His voice is muffled but Taehyung hears him perfectly clearly nonetheless.

Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to be confused. Before he can do much more than open his mouth, though, Yoongi’s straightening and looking up at him with a smile that takes over his whole face.

“Taehyung-ah,” he says slowly, making sure that Taehyung’s paying attention. “I have something to tell you.”

Rubbing an arm up and down Yoongi’s back, Taehyung just nods at him encouragingly. “Go ahead, hyung. I’m listening.”

Taking a slow breath, Yoongi says, “I’m ace, Taehyung. I don’t want to have sex with you either.”

Taehyung blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Parses through the handful of words that have just set his world off its axis for a split moment before it rights itself again and then suddenly he’s laughing.

It’s soft with a hysterical edge that neither mention. “Oh my God,” he says, voice shocked but the delight seeping through.

Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Yoongi holds him as Taehyung makes himself smaller, small enough to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck. He wonders if his boyfriend can feel his smile against his skin.

Running careful fingers through his hair, Yoongi kisses the shell of Taehyung’s ear. “We should’ve known,” he says wisely.

Sighing, Taehyung melts into Yoongi’s embrace. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Though I did think it was weird that I slept over so much and you never tried anything.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh. “You gave me a heart attack when you slid your hand under my shirt that first time. Not to mention when you grabbed my ass.”

Laugh loud in the quiet between them, Taehyung straightens so he can look at Yoongi fully. “I was so worried to tell you that I was ace. I thought it would ruin things, or at least bruise them for a little while.”

Yoongi sighs and this time there’s a sad edge to it. “I was worried too,” he confesses quietly. “Especially once so much time had passed. Thought you might think I was leading you on.”

Slowly, Taehyung shakes his head. “Never, hyung,” he whispers.

Smiling a little, Yoongi raises a little on his toes until he’s the same height as Taehyung and then he leans in and kisses Taehyung. It’s something delicate and full of wonder. “I’m glad we’ve finally got that cleared up,” he mumbles between them and Taehyung just hums in response.

The waffles are definitely cold by now and the eggs are forgotten as Taehyung kisses Yoongi in the kitchen.

The sun is bright and a weight he hadn’t even known was so heavy is lifted away from him, makes him feel free and invincible and like all is right in the world-- in his own little world with Yoongi.

Thinking about the morning’s developments, he laughs a little into their kiss and Yoongi starts smiling until it’s hard to kiss at all.

In hindsight, there were probably so many signs that he and Yoongi had always been on the right wavelength, even if they’d been too stuck in their heads to see it.

Pulling back a little, Taehyung rubs their noses together just to see Yoongi’s face scrunch, cute and reluctantly endeared.

“What are your limits, Yoongi-hyung?” He asks, curious and not wanting to run into any more misunderstandings.

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ve pretty much hit them all,” he says with an open expression. “I love kissing and don’t mind if it gets a little messy but I’ll never want anything more-- anything below the belt. What about you?”

Humming a little, Taehyung slowly waltzes them out of the kitchen and into the living room. “I’ve gone further and haven’t hated it but I’d prefer not to do anything that involves removing underwear. I love kissing, though, especially when it’s you. I like holding you, like feeling you on top of me,” he admits softly and smiles as he sees pink sweep over his Suga-hyung’s cheeks.

He moves them until they’re falling onto the couch in a mess of limbs. Yoongi’s looking up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky just for them and Taehyung soaks up the wide-eyed look like he’s bottling sunshine.

Yoongi sighs a little, rests his head against Taehyung’s cheeks.

Taehyung enjoys the quiet. He settles into the knowledge that nothing has to change, that everything can stay just as perfect as it’s been. While he knows there will be disagreements in the future, he can rest easy knowing now that sex will never be a reason why.

He doesn’t realize just how close he is to falling asleep with Yoongi as a warm weight in his arms, until his boyfriend suddenly straightens.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi says softly, carding his fingers through his hair.

Looking up, Taehyung sees Yoongi watching him with the softest look. “What is it, hyung?”

Silent for a minute, Yoongi finally just smiles. He ducks close for a quick kiss and when he pulls back, he’s grinning. “I love you.”

Eyes going wide, Taehyung repeats the words in his head a few hundred times in the space it takes Yoongi to blink innocently.

Taehyung feels struck dumb, hearing the words making him so happy he can hardly bear it, and Yoongi just takes it in stride.

“Earlier you said that you loved me but you didn’t want to have sex with me. I figured I shouldn’t leave you hanging,” Yoongi says casually.

And Taehyung hadn’t even realized that he’d confessed, not when his heart had been going a mile a minute at the prospect of telling Yoongi his biggest secret that wasn’t ever supposed to be a secret, not really at least. A secret of omission, he supposes absently.

“You love me,” he finally asks, too vulnerable. He’s not surprised, not really, it had just been a shock to hear the words-- because while Yoongi doesn’t hide once he’s comfortable, he still keeps words close to his chest like they’re infinitely valuable jewels that must be looked after with care.

Yoongi’s love is in the way he cares for others, the way he cares for Taehyung. To hear the words makes Taehyung’s heart settle into something that feels a lot like home.

“I love you,” Yoongi says again, just as light but twice as serious.

Taehyung grins and pulls Yoongi close in a hug that squeezes his ribs. “I love you too, hyung. My grumpy sweet, kitten hyung.”

Yoongi’s rolling his eyes when Taehyung releases him and the two just watch each other for a few minutes. Taehyung’s lost in his boyfriend’s eyes, so clear and deep and showing everything he feels.

The past six months have gone by in the blink of an eye, Yoongi settling into his life so quietly, so completely, that Taehyung is still realizing how connected they’ve become.

Taehyung feels good, so good, knowing that they’re on the same page where it counts, that they’re both comfortable and safe and loved.

Yoongi kisses his shoulder, nosing along it like a kitten looking for love, and Taehyung does his best to make sure he always feels the force of it.

They lose track of time, and most of breakfast is unsalvageable by the time they remember.

They clean up the kitchen-- it taking twice as long as it should since they stop so often for quick pecks and not-so-quick kisses that make Taehyung’s smile dopey at the corners-- and they end up just stopping by a coffee shop on the way to the expo.

And Taehyung listens as Yoongi goes on for long minutes at every stall they pass, talking about how cool the technology is or what he could do with such equipment or what he’s hoping to see next year.

And hours later, when it’s his turn to show Yoongi around the museum, losing himself in talking about technique and little trivia facts about the artists, Taehyung comes back to himself just to see Yoongi staring up at him with wide eyes, completely attentive and so fond that it makes Taehyung’s heart ache in sympathy.

They end the day wrapped together and Taehyung falls asleep close enough to feel Yoongi’s heart beat, feeling his own echo in tandem.

#my writing #strawberry skies #taegi fic #taegi au #i can not believe this ended up being over 10k what the fuck

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michelleleahhh · 5 years ago

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“accidentally fell in your lap while standing on this crowded bus” au pLEASE I BEG OF YOU

Oh, anon. If only this would actually happen on my commutes. I changed bus to subway though.

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Word Count: 1,800

It would be fabulous to be on time. One time. One week. One hour.

Born early, always late. That’s the saying, right?

It is possible that your roommate is to blame, with her taking a 45-minute Good-Morning-Shit.

It is also possible, you can blame the people above you, with their stomping and yelling at all hours of the night.

Truly though, the blame is with you and your proclivity for always running late. It really is a disgusting habit. The snooze button is just such a good way to start the morning.

Tomorrow, you decide, will be the day you’ll be on time.

Yes, tomorrow is the perfect day for that.

Today, you are already late.

You can hear the subway approaching, so you quicken your pace, slightly embarrassed that you’re puffing for air. As you swipe your metro card and race in a hurry down the cement steps, you’re greeted with a crowding of people around silver doors.

God may be shining on you today. You know, since the train appeared just when you got there. It’s the most amazing kind of kismet.

You throw some elbows, step on a few toes, and manage to squeeze your way into the middle of the subway car. You are forced to face a row of seats, clasping the silver bars overhead to keep you anchored as the train zooms off. The man in front of you man spreads, his long legs bumping into yours.

Only seven stops until you can get to the Avengers Tower.

Ever since you took your new job in Media Relations (VERY different from Public Relations, you’d like to add), you have been getting in later nearly every day.

You peer around you, finding people pressed against one another. It’s silent as every morning commute should be. If you had to hear one conversation, you were going to go on a murdering spree.

When you make awkward eye-contact with a far too good-looking gentleman on the other side of the train you quickly divert your eyes. You lick your lips and try to sneak a glance out of the corner of the eye, hoping the man was looking at you.

You say a silent bargain: if he is looking at you, then he’s your soulmate.

He is not looking at you.

That is more disappointing than it should have been.

After two, uneventful stops, the train slows down, sputtering to a rest.

You ignore the three internal panics thrumming through you. They are ranked as follows:

One, you’re on a crowded subway and stuck in between two different stations. This could be the end.

Two, it is extremely hot and you’re pretty sure you’re sweating through your shirt. This could get embarrassing.

Three, (and really what should have been priority) you are going to be late.

After a minute, the overhead speaker dings and a distorted voice echoes through the car.

“N, Q, R, and W trains are running with significant delays in both directions due to a police activity at 42nd Street Times Square that caused all lines to run on the local line. We apologize for the delay.”

A rapid domino effect ricochets through the subway car. People groan and shuffle around as if their display of aggravation is going to make the subway resume its course.

You drop your hands from the handlebar and pull out your cellphone. You unlock the screen and begin sifting through music, hoping that if you keep yourself busy it will make the delay move by faster.

After a few minutes, you land on a suitable song and try to send text messages hoping you appear busy. You type messages to in the following order to friends, family, and bosses:

One (friends), you’re pretty sure you’re riding on the subway with your soulmate. Should you get his number?

Two (family), yes, you will make sure to text your aunt happy birthday. (And you’re pretty sure this guy is your soulmate. I mean, look at his hair, it is perfectly coiffed.)

Three (bosses), (and again what should have been priority) you’re going to be late because there are delays.

Unsurprisingly, none of the messages go through.

When you glance up from your phone, you realize the man sitting in front of you has been studying you. You quickly avert your eyes, telling yourself not to look at him. He keeps his gaze on you then finally huffs and shuts his eyelids. After a few moments, you steal glances at him.

He has black hair, high cheekbones, and an irritable mouth.

He’s beautiful in the only way a man can be. (But definitely not your soulmate.)

Without any warning, the subway car begins to move. You’re so caught up in your phone that you forget to reach for the bar overhead and stumble around, trying to catch your footing.

You tumble and land in the lap of the beautiful stranger in front of you.

He gasps, his hands coming to rest on your hips and keep you from making even more of an ass out of yourself.

You try to pull yourself up, but the subway has begun an un-even jerking motion that keeps even the most sure-footed commuters swaying from side to side.

“Just wait until the train stops,” he nearly snarls in your ear.

A fever of embarrassment flows through your bloodstream. You purse your lips, tightening every muscle in your body.

You glance at his hands on your hips, looking at the dull, pale fingernails and studying them. They dig into your clothes, almost roughly, promising something that you have yet to understand.

They’re the type of hands that would draw designs amongst flesh, ones that would force pleasure and heartache from every crevice of your being. You are adamant that you could understand everything from a person’s hands. And these hands, they speak volumes. They are full of scars, long, slim fingers ended with blunt nails, and though there are lines around his knuckles, he didn’t look to be older than his mid-thirties.

He coughs from behind you to get your attention. You glance over your shoulder, seeing his eyes are raised at you in an annoyed, yet amused expression.

People have begun to rush off of the subway, a woman that was sitting next to him gets up, eyeing you like any annoyed New Yorker would, muttering blasphemies under her breath.

You shuffle to your feet with as much grace as a baby elephant. You swallow thickly, looking at the seat next to him longingly.

What if… he is your soulmate?

You nearly cringe at the thought, what a sure way to discourage any romantic inclinations than to fall in the lap of a stranger.

Then, you do the unthinkable, you turn right around and sit on the seat next to him.

The subway moves again, though the man doesn’t look at you.

So, you do the worst thing any morning commuter could do. You talk.

“Thank you, by the way.”

You look at him, hoping you remembered to put on mascara this morning.

He merely grunts, his eyes closing again and he tilts his head back. “Perhaps next time, you should pay attention to your surroundings.”

You scoff ad turn to stare forward. “Ass,” you mutter under your breath.

A small, wry smile sneaks to his lips that you couldn’t miss if you tried.

You pull your phone out and look at the time.

You were going to be extraordinarily fucking late.

Finally, after a few uncomfortable stops, 57th Street is announced and you stand.

Much to your agitation, the Ass does too. He is tall. Like a tree or beam poll. He is all legs, and torso, and gangly arms. You want to climb him, intrigued at what the world would look like from that height.

He cuts off your pathway walking ahead of you and out the doors of the subway car. He’s a specimen, a true specimen, but he’s also a classified Ass.

His ass is also perfect.

Damn.

You follow him out the doors, and oddly enough up the same path and into the same underground entrance of Avengers headquarters.

What the hell?

You decide then, you’re going to put your speed to good use. You stretch forward, pushing yourself faster so you can speed past him (after all nothing is more awkward than going the same direction as someone who you embarrassed yourself in front of on the metro).

Paces turn into a run, steps into stomping, breathing into huffing. You manage to defeat him. When you get to the security table, you open your purse searching for your ID.

Your heart sinks, now he’s going to pass you, see you, as you have to register as a guest with the security team upfront.

“I believe you dropped this.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, finding the Asshole Specimen dangling your ID in front of your face. You swipe it out of his hand and fist it tightly knowing you certainly did not drop it.

“Did you pickpocket me?” You try to sound scandalized, you’re afraid it came out as impressed.

“It was quite easy.”

You scoff again, shaking your head. “Ass,” you say louder this time and directly to his face. With that, you spin on your heal and swipe your ID entering into the elevator bank.

“Yes,” he agrees, falling in step behind you. “I believe you said that already.”

You get into the elevators, heart sinking and hammering when he does as well.

Shaking fingers press on floor number 15. He smiles wolfishly, leaning very close to you and hitting 52.

52?

52?!

Isn’t that where the Avengers floors begin?

Isn’t there like a separate elevator bank for them?

You bite your lips, tapping your feet on the elevator as you wait to get to your floor.

“So, you work here or something?” You finally ask, lifting an eyebrow to find that he’s been staring at you the whole time.

“Yes, something to that effect,” He articulates.

Everything he says is just so… pompous.

He’s a Pompous Ass you decide.

The elevator dings, the doors opening on floor fifteen. Without another word, you step through the threshold and onto your floor.

When the man speaks your name from the elevators, you turn to him.

He knows your name? Of course, from the ID. But you don’t say a word. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and shoot him a deadly glare. He merely cocks his head, a serpentine smile on his lips as the elevator doors close.

One Shots: @fairlightswiftly, @javelinamilk, @wannabebr1t, @joyofbebbanburg, @schmidten17, @winterisakiller@addyliners, @iamverity, @kybaeza,

#loki #loki fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #loki imagines #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagines #loki/reader #loki/you #loki x you #reader insert #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #drabbles #drabble #michelleleahhh #shit I write

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pynkhues · 5 years ago

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I love brio and I've read almost every fic on ao3. I've made little notes here and there of some fics that I would like to write, but I've never wrote anything like fan fiction. I can think up scenes in my head, but I just can't seem to get it out on paper. What are some tips you can give me to help? Because I would really love to write, i just dont even know where to start?

Hi, anon! And how cool! Welcome to the wonderful world of writing. :-)

My advice on how to start – as wishy-washy as it sounds – is always just to start. Pick up a pen, or open a word document, and just start throwing words together. See what comes out, and try not to edit or self-police as you write, particularly when you’re just starting out. It’ll cripple you creatively – gosh, it still does sometimes for me, and I’ve been writing for over 15 years.

A good way to try this out is to set a timer for fifteen minutes or half an hour, and just free-write – so just write, and don’t let yourself re-read any of it until the timer bings. Give yourself the space to write words – some will be good, a lot probably terrible, but you can always make bad words better.

You can’t make nothing better.

And look, I’m going to maintain that that’s the most important piece of advice here, haha, but I get that that sort of advice can also be sometimes frustrating to people who are looking for more structure, so hey!

Here’s some more meat-and-potatoes advice too.

(Put behind a cut to not eat your feeds!)

Plotting a story in three questions

Building a plot really comes down to asking three questions:

1. What does your character want?

2. What’s standing in their way stopping them from getting what they want?

3. How will they overcome this to get what they want?

It might sound basic, but it forms really the backbone of every story. Take the Harry Potter series for instance, for which these questions are crucial.

1. What does your character want?

Harry wants a family.

2. What’s standing in their way stopping them from getting what they want?

Voldemort is a direct threat to the new family Harry’s found. A threat he feels acutely because Voldemort murdered his original family.

3. How will they overcome this to get what they want?

Harry will do anything to save this new, found family – the stakes of which escalates with every book.

Of course, stories are more than this too – they’re themes and settings and arcs and dialogue, and character motivation tangles up in those things which means that the story world appears to expand well beyond those three questions I listed above. After all, Voldemort’s never just a threat to Harry’s family, he is for the whole world, right? But the thing is the threat to the world is never what drives Harry through the story, and therefore isn’t what drives the story overall.

The plot is always the threat to Hogwarts and the life and family Harry’s found there.

Good Girls is exactly the same.

1. What does your character want?

Beth, Ruby and Annie want to provide for their children.

2. What’s standing in their way stopping them from getting what they want?

All three of them are in dire financial situations because Dean’s lost everything, Sara needs a transplant and expensive medication, and Annie can’t pay for her son’s needs.

3. How will they overcome this to get what they want?

They’re going to get into crime and make enough money to save themselves and their children.

The answers to these questions can change and evolve too – after all, the ‘what’ has certainly grown more complicated for Beth, Ruby and Annie across the show’s run, but those changes should evolve out of plot progression aka cause and effect.

Beth’s original want was for financial stability for her children, and she still wants that, but she wants more than that now too – something that has been explored through the instability of her circumstances, and her growing attraction to power after having lived a powerless life.

So let’s talk about cause and effect a little more.

Cause and Effect

With those questions in mind, it’s important to remember that the way a story takes shape should be a sort of domino effect of cause and effect. Scenes aren’t placed together in a haphazard order. They’re not stacked on top of each other like three children in a trenchcoat! One scene should always cause the next, and that scene should lead onto the next, and so on, and so on.

The enemy of good storytelling is ‘and then’.

So when you write a scene, don’t think ‘now what happens?’

Look at what you’ve written and say ‘okay, what does what I’ve written here mean? What is the fallout of this? What is going to happen to these characters and this story now given what I’ve just written?’

This is also a good way to reverse engineer a story (and something I often do!) If you have a scene in your head, but you know it’s a middle scene, or an ending to something, ask yourself what happened that made that scene happen.

In one of my most recent standalone fics, Drive You Mad (wear me out), I actually started with two scenes in my head – one where Beth and Rio were soaking wet for a mystery reason I didn’t know yet, haha, and the fact that it lead to them having sex in his car, and I had a vague idea that I wanted it to be related to a crime job.

Similarly with the pornstar!AU! I just wanted Beth and Rio to make a porno, haha, but I wanted it to feel like a genuine choice for these characters, so I needed to think of authentic reasons that would put them in that room, opposite each other, about to throw it all to the wind and bone on camera.

I reverse engineered both these stories by just asking myself ‘but why did this happen?’ What choices did these characters make to get them here? How did Beth and Rio end up soaking wet? Why would they have sex in that car? What would get somebody like Beth to shoot porn? What would make somebody like Beth connect emotionally with somebody like Rio in this AU (and y’know what? It was the exact same thing as in canon – a combination of parenthood and validation).

In other words, your story should never say this happened and then this happened, it should always say this happened and so this happened.

Agency

Every character in your story should make choices. Good choices, bad choices, choices they think are not choices at all (because never forget - you always choose to do nothing. Nothing is never thrust upon you).

Your characters are what drive your story forwards, and they drive your story forwards by making choices, not by standing still and waiting for the story to come to them. And look, it’s great if they make the right one, but it’s so much more fun (and opens up so many and so possibilities!) when they make the wrong one.

Grounding Your Story

Grounding stories in a place or a space is something I think a lot of new and emerging writers struggle with, and it was something I was really, really bad at when I started writing and worked really hard to get better at. Characters should never be interacting in vacuums. We don’t exist in them after all.

Stories come alive when characters are engaging with spaces, or when those spaces are utilised effectively. Horror does this especially well, but a lot of other stories do too (again, Harry Potter is actually a great example of this!)

This is something Good Girls pretty consistently does fabulously too – think of any of their heists for starters, but particularly the one in 1.01. Settings can open up and close and add conflict and provide release. Use them! Think about them! I can guarantee you’ll become a better writer for it.

When I was really struggling with this area, I got some incredible advice that I still use to this day from Kim Wilkins, a gothic fantasy and horror author from my home town. She told me that when I start writing a new scene, go through the five senses - what can your character see, smell, taste, touch, hear. Write all of it. Then pick the best two descriptions, and dump the rest.

Then think about the function of those descriptions. Okay, so the character’s in a park and can hear the metal whine of a rusty swingset. Does the chain link snap? Harming their child? Or maybe they can hear thunder in the distance while they’ve been trying to have a romantic anniversary picnic! Do they make it to the car in time? How does that affect their dynamic? Does it lead to a passionate make out in the rain? Or a furious fight in it? (Notice how this is all cause and effect too?)

These descriptions don’t always have to lead to a plot point – sometimes they can be reflective of an emotional state – an oncoming storm can foreshadow an oncoming fight between characters as much as it can lead to those characters getting caught in it after all – and sometimes it can just be for atmosphere too!

All of this serves though to build your story into something evocative and grounded for the reader, plus it can be really fun to play around with.

Love it or have fun! Try for both, but never have neither.

Sometimes writing is a slog.

Sometimes you sit down for a session and want to pluck your own eyelashes out because the story’s not working or the words aren’t flowing or you know your characterisation is falling flat, but there’s a difference between not enjoying a writing session, and not enjoying writing overall.

Writing can be really hard work sometimes, and when it is, you either need to love it, and love the story you’re trying to tell, or you need to move on to something else.

That can be your silly, fun crack fic that evades all logic and you just straight up enjoy writing, or it can be something that isn’t writing at all.

You’ve got to make it work for you – and if you don’t love it, and you aren’t having fun? It’s not worth it.

You can take a break and come back to it, or you can take a break and never come back to it. Just do what’s right for you.

Don’t get turned off by The Gap

Ira Glass describes this perfectly in this interview, and it’s something I always recommend to people starting out. Writing is, like practically everything else, a trade. It’s something you grow and develop and should never stop growing and developing and learning about.

Writing though I think is also something that’s really easy to give up when you feel like you aren’t immediately good at it, and, well - -

I think he says it better than I ever could:

youtube

#writing #writing advice #welcome to my ama #Anonymous

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darlinglissa · 4 years ago

Text

no rest for the wicked

steph is just. so tired. and the batboys are so insufferable. just some shenanigans for 4,503 words.

summary:

steph is a tired college student, just trying to make her way to her bachelor’s degree at least. doing this simultaneously with her nightly vigilantism is difficult and exhausting, but she makes it work dammit. she doesn’t even mind too much that her aforementioned nightly vigilantism comes with strange bat people that she isn’t fully convinced are people. but if one more tights-wearing, creepily-looming bat climbs through her window on her night off to actually complete an essay for once she’s going to make them write the six page essay for her, or so help her.

big big big thank you to @wisdom-walks-alone for being the best beta this girl could ask for!!!

read it on ao3!

Stephanie Brown is having what she likes to call a Shit Day. She’s just tired all around, and when it starts affecting her nightly hobby she starts to rethink her priorities for the first time in—she can’t remember when. Which then causes an existential crisis that she, at the ripe age of 21, should not be going through yet. Her crisis turns into an absolute nosedive of a tailspin when, of all the people in her life, Bruce “I’m Batman” Wayne notices that her help on the case is turning hindrance instead and tells her to take the next few nights off the case.

“It’ll still be there when you come back,” he says.

She may or may not stare at him for five minutes too long, and he may question his stance on asking her to work with them on the Falcone case of the week, but she goes home either way. Steph is not about to look this gift horse in the mouth, even if her entire view on life has shifted a solid eighty degrees to the right in less than two minutes.

And boy, does she not regret her decision to go home. A full night’s sleep, an actual breakfast that isn’t from a drive-thru on her way to her eight am class that she’s always been perpetually late to, and she is on time to her class for the first time. In all honesty, Steph is living her best life in the first two hours of her day.

And it didn’t stop there: she’s on time to all three classes she has, she’s actually awake for the classes, and her notes are helpful instead of hopeless scribbles of random key words and names of people. She’s feeling like the student she always knew she could be, but was always too tired to be.

When she gets home after her last class, she takes her time to shower and put on her comfiest pajamas, and make a dinner that isn’t frozen solid. The dinner is on the table, her books are opened and scattered around her, and Steph is feeling that ripe sense of productivity that has eluded her since she started offering the bats her help. With no risk of interruption—surely Bruce knew what a night off was when he offered her to take some—she eats lazily while working on some chemistry problems.

She abandons the chemistry homework when she’s finished eating, and cleans her plate instead of throwing it in the dishwasher without a care. This productivity shtick ain’t so bad, it at least keeps her apartment cleaner—not clean, but cleaner.

Her planner is propped up against her bag, the day’s assignments actually written down neatly instead of rushed abbreviations that take an hour to decipher, and she gives it a look-over. Steph realizes that with this new downtime she’s been given she can actually get a head start on an essay due in a few days. “Head start” is used loosely, but starting it two days in advance is a new experience for her. She usually rushes the day of due to late nights on the streets and hopes it doesn’t actually look like it was rushed.

Blanket on, pillows fluffed behind her, and laptop fully charged, Steph settles into her couch to start this thematic essay that’s been gnawing at her mind since it was assigned. The introductory paragraph is slow to set up, but she can feel her brain gaining momentum as she puzzles out her argument. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers are flying across the keyboard, with the backspace having the most hits. She’s getting there, she is, her thesis is coming together so nicely and her ideas are flowing freely, she hasn’t felt adrenaline from something other than freefalls in...months? Years? Her fingers stutter and she rereads her thesis. This is such bull—

A knock on her window almost has her sprawled on the floor, and her hands catch her laptop at the last possible second. Her head snaps over to the window and there, in all his black and blue spandexed glory, was Dick Grayson, in his stupid skintight spandex suit and his stupid sheepish but pained grin, bleeding on her fire escape. Which she just cleaned her own blood off of.

Irritated didn’t cover the slight boiling she could feel in her veins. She gives one last look at her document as she places her laptop on the coffee table, and another knock resounds through her living room.

“Okay! Okay. You win this round, Night-dork.” Steph goes over to her window and opens the hatch, letting the first Boy Wonder climb—more like fall—into her apartment. Her eyes follow his form as he all but crawls to her kitchen’s island, his domino being tossed onto the counter carelessly. She follows slowly, trying not to hate the man before he’s done anything other than exist, and maybe breathe, in her apartment. “Thanks for not bleeding on my carpet, too.”

Dick glances up at her before going back to his search for her first aid kit. “My pleasure, courtesy is my middle name.” His voice is strained, but his demeanor is purposely relaxed.

“Your middle name is John.” She watches him struggle, eyes darting from him at the cabinet above her fridge, where he’s reaching up even though it’s obviously hurting him, to the drawer beside her sink where her first aid kit is tucked away.

“It’s close enough,” he says with a tight shrug. He continues to search through her baking sheets and cooling racks.

Realizing he won’t be leaving that cabinet for a while, Steph sighs and pushes his body to the right drawer. He turns that sheepish-but-pained grin at her again, and she just pushes it away from her with a groan. Dick takes a heavy seat on one of her island’s stools, opening the kit with his non-bloody hand.

“It’s my day off. Do you know what that is?” she asks him, eyeing the needle and thread in his hands with mild interest as he misses the needle’s eye twice before taking it and threading it herself. Exasperation bubbles to the surface, and after Dick starts stitching his side she shuffles away to the couch. That grin seems permanently fixed on his face whenever she looks at him, so she stops looking at him and busies herself with folding the blanket that fell to the floor with her. “It’s this really cool thing where I stay home and not do what I would normally do. Like deal with your blood in my apartment.”

For a brief moment only Steph’s defeated sigh and Dick’s pained breaths are all that can be heard, and then Dick breaks it between stitches. “Yeah, sorry about this.” That grin is facing her and she looks at the blanket like it has a map that will lead her out of this conversation. Hell, out of this entire interaction. “You were the closest safe house, and I had a bit of a...situation.” He gestures to his side meaningfully with his head, as if Steph has no idea what situation he could possibly be referring to. “Hey, can you hand me the scissors?”

Dropping the blanket on the couch, Steph grabs the scissors from the other side of the island and hands them to him. He thanks her softly in that Earnest and Sincere Dick Grayson way, which makes it increasingly hard to be irritated with him, which in itself is irritating. He cuts the thread and ties it off a little sloppily, but effectively.

“There, all done and no one’s dead.” Dick stands up, grunting only slightly as he does so, and sets everything back in the first aid kit.

Steph notices that he puts it all in more neatly than it had been to begin with—she’s always in a hurry to get it back in the drawer and get to bed, don’t judge—and begrudgingly takes it when he hands it to her gently. She can feel Dick’s eyes on her as she puts it in its drawer, then she turns to face him, leaning against the drawer as it shuts. “Okay, you’re no longer in danger of dying, and I have an essay to write, so shoo.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands.

Her weight is fully being supported by her counter and Dick is looking at her with his kicked puppy eyes that make her give in sooner than she would like to admit. Steph slumps down a little more, legs stretched out in front of her and feet flat against the floor. She meets his gaze head on, feeling all the productivity and triumph from the day drain out of her so fast she’s a little dizzy. “What.”

His pout deepens, and she can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I feel bad, Steph.” Dick leans into the stool’s back and flattens his hands on the island’s counter. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

And there’s the Dick Grayson Guilt Trip.

Steph’s eyes trail over to her laptop one last time, the screen gone black from inactivity. She huffs a laugh, because this is her life, and it actually feels more real with a newly-stitched up dude in her kitchen than writing an essay early. For the second time in less than two days she finds herself having a mini crisis, but Dick’s puppy dog eyes snap her back. Steph rolls her eyes, dragging herself to her fridge. “You’re not intruding, Dick.”

Dick’s grin goes from sheepish to genuine with a touch of triumph, and he leans his body forward against the counter. “Great! So how does a nice midnight snack sound?”

She looks away from the orange juice she’s pulling off the shelf to stare at Dick in distrust. “You aren’t going near my stove, Grayson. I don’t need a small fire to deal with on top of my bloody fire escape.” A glass is taken from the shelf beside the fridge, and as she pours the juice into it she lets herself grin at Dick’s spluttering.

“I wouldn’t burn your kitchen down this time! I’ve gotten better,” he promises, pointing a red stained finger in her direction. Steph continues to stare at him with that deadpan expression she practiced from Alfred, though she knows hers isn’t half as successful as the stern butler’s. “I’ve been practicing!”

“Well, you can practice somewhere that isn’t my kitchen. I’ll make us pancakes if you stop looking at me like I took Jason’s gun to your favorite suit,” she says, bringing her glass to her lips.

Dick nods, pointedly looking away from her and over at the laptop on the coffee table, and wisely stays silent for the moment.

Steph whips the batter up as quickly as she can, flour settling on her shirt and the counter despite her careful measuring and whisking. The stack of pancakes towers on her chipped plate, and when the batter runs out she splits them between the two of them.

They eat in relative silence, until Steph breaks it when she finishes eating, feeling exhaustion seep into her bones. She eyes the clock on her microwave, the green numbers flashing 12:45; her 9:30 class crosses her mind like a neon sign saying go to bed, dumbass. Tense hands rub at her eyes before she pushes her chair back.

“This has been a lovely, if not bloody, visit,” she says, picking up her plate and stealing Dick’s even though he still had a couple bites left.

“Hey!”

She ignores this maturely, cleaning the plates and feeling satisfaction in her petty revenge. “But it’s getting late and I’m tired. You know the exit.”

Without waiting to make sure he actually leaves, Steph drags herself to her bedroom and kicks the door shut with her foot. In the next moment she’s face down on her bed and passes out when her head hits the duvet.

Surely tomorrow will be better is the last thought that dashes through her sleep-muddled mind.

---

Tomorrow isn’t better. She sleeps through her alarm, and misses her first class. She curses Dick’s name her whole drive to campus while she chugs coffee. She doesn’t even like coffee.

The one class she’s able to make it to sucks the joy of life out of her, and when she tries to heat up the leftovers she brought with her for lunch the microwave went up in flames.

(Yeah, Bruce will be the one getting that bill.)

Steph trudges into her apartment and just as she closes the door she realizes that she still has that essay, and she really doesn’t want to have to do it all on the last day possible. She doesn’t even have a complete introduction paragraph.

So she makes a nice batch of waffles to help lick her wounds, and when she’s full and feeling slightly better she sets forth to spite-finish her essay.

Her essay is actually coming along, one body paragraph finished and her argument set in stone, and she’s feeling that satisfaction building in her gut. A smile is tugging at her lips, and the idea of finishing it early is seeming more plausible.

But then her window is being slammed open and a small body is shoved through.

Stephanie most definitely does not scream, and she will forever deny it.

Timothy “Pain in Steph’s Ass” Drake climbs in after Damian—who’s becoming increasingly feral by the second—and the laptop is abandoned once again. Unlike last night, Steph has no hopes of getting back to the document and has resigned herself to her fate of finishing it all tomorrow.

Steph eyes the feral child practically vibrating with rage, then looks over at Tim, who appears to be as calm as can be when paired with a murderous child. After shutting the window behind him, Tim gives a little wave, pulling his domino off with the motion. “Hey, honey, I’m home?”

All that satisfaction left her in droves, and she stalks over to her laptop and shuts it with a snap.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tim flinch just barely, and a smidge of satisfaction returns, but it’s quickly taken away when she notices Damian’s glare has settled on her. The sigh that leaves her body is heavy and tired, but she pushes forward and leans against the back of her couch to stare them down nonetheless.

“Tim, babe, what the hell do you want on my night off?” Steph crosses her arms over her chest, resting her chin in one of her palms. She glances over at Damian again but looks away from his piercing green eyes that promise pain. “And why does the bat-brat look ready to put me in a real grave?”

Tim turns to Damian with a grimace, and tries to start explaining, “You’re the only one technically available tonight, so—”

Damian cuts him off sharply. “So you need to help us with this lead so we can leave and attend more pressing matters. After all, crime doesn’t take nights off.”

Tim hides his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “I told you to let me do the talking.”

The smaller boy turns on his heel, his cape fluttering behind him, making him look just like Batman after a scolding for a night gone worse than it should have. “I agreed to nothing of the sort, Drake.” He walks like he’s commanding the room, rummaging through Steph’s fridge as if he has the right. Like he’s Bruce Wayne and could buy her out of house and home.

(Well, he actually could, in all likelihood.)

Steph doesn’t like the comparison her mind is making, so she interrupts before it can go any further. “I don’t care who does the talking, just give me the info so you can leave faster.”

Tim’s hands run down his face and he looks at Steph pleadingly. “I know it’s your night off, but no one else would answer their comms and we really need an extra pair of eyes on this case. We’re driving ourselves crazy looking at the same clues over and over.”

Steph sighs, and takes in the bags under Tim’s eyes and Damian’s tensed shoulders. She lets out a groan, leaning against the couch back even heavier and getting a sense of deja vu with this feeling of defeat. “Okay.”

Damian scoffs from his place at her fridge before he moves on to browsing through her cabinets. “Of course you will, it’s your duty.”

Tim interrupts before Steph can retaliate with her, arguably, witty and biting remark. “Great, thank you, I love you, please look at the file.”

She begrudgingly takes the folder from her boyfriend’s hand, moving to plop on the couch. Papers are strewn about within seconds, and as Steph scans the information her mind is happy to have something more familiar to focus on.

It’s quiet aside from pages shuffling and Damian finally finding suitable tea bags, filling her kettle with water. Tim settles down next to her, relaxing for what must be the first time tonight.

“Got stuck with Bruce Jr.? What’d you do to get that sentence?” she asks, eyes not leaving the pages.

Tim scoots in closer. “I was the only one who didn’t have an excuse not to work with him.”

Steph’s pen circles and connects a few sentences, and she hands the paper to Tim. She moves on to the next paper, scanning for pertinent facts, adding more circles and lines. “Dick wouldn’t take him tonight?”

He looks over her shoulder, taking papers as she passes them off and connects the dots she’s connecting. “He’s on medical leave. Stab wound, I think?”

Her pen stops mid-circle before she forces herself to finish the marking. “Yeah, that was a thing.”

“‘That was a thing’?” Tim asks as he leans back, staring at Steph in mild confusion.

“Yeah, he used my needle and thread last night. Didn’t think it would actually be an issue for him,” she says as calmly as she can, very aware of the unhappy child pouring boiling water a few feet behind them.

Sensing her forced nonchalance—and glancing back at Damian before looking back at her—he drops it.

“It’s the bodyguard, he’s the link,” she declares, pushing the papers into the folder and the folder into Tim’s lap. “Good luck, he’s built like a linebacker.”

Damian sniffs derisively, sipping his tea like the snooty brat he was raised to be. “If I had had another half hour—”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Tim says loudly, giving Damian a look. Damian just huffs and turns back to his tea. Tim gives Steph a kiss on her cheek before standing and putting his domino back on. “Damian, we should get going so we can get some intel before we have to head home.”

Steph jumps up and slides the window open, happy to let the two walking headaches exit her premises. “Yep, you should get going, little demon.”

Damian sneers at her, but finishes his tea and puts his mug in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality, brat-girl.” He walks past her to the window ledge, sliding out to the fire escape. “The state of your fire escape is appalling.”

“Yeah, whatever bat-brat, go annoy that bodyguard for a while,” she replies, giving him a slight push as she walks by to go put his mug in the dishwasher and avoiding the right hook thrown back at her. She passes Tim and gives him a quick kiss while pointedly ignoring Damian’s age-appropriate hiss of disgust.

“See you Friday?” Tim asks before he follows Damian out the window.

Steph looks back from the sink, and smiles. “Yep, as always.”

Tim disappears from her fire escape and Steph’s shoulders fall slightly. After the dishwasher is turned on because she’s a responsible adult and chores are her bitch, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow, she thinks, is another day, huh?

---

Steph wakes up to sunlight filtering through her curtains and 11:14 on her alarm clock. The light bugs her into getting up, but she feels rested enough as she stretches her joints. She takes a hot shower, and gets into comfy sweats and a sweater.

Thursdays will be her favorite day for the next two months. No classes make for a relaxed and mostly productive day, if not wonderful for her sanity.

So she takes her time making a nice breakfast of eggs and toast, and after unloading the dishwasher and putting her breakfast dishes into it, she’s feeling happy and productive. Her laptop is open and ready, and she settles in for the long haul to finish this goddamn essay.

She’s working at a steady pace, getting into the zone of writing about themes and connecting ideas and only semi-hating it. The time passes quickly, and she’s halfway to her six page minimum and mentally screaming because she’s gotten this far, she can finish it on time for the first time in years.

It’s when she’s just reached the middle of her fourth page that her window is smashed to pieces, glass littering her floor.

Steph is ready to cry.

But she’s been taught—well, she inferred from a few grunts—to use emotion as a driving force and grabs her slugger from under the couch and swings it at the figure, who is distracted by trying to avoid the shards of glass underfoot. Through his lapse of attention, he doesn’t dodge fast enough.

Jason now has a bruise blooming on his right shoulder blade, his face contorted in pain before twisting into a scowl aimed at Steph. Normally, it would have been effective, and it would have been if Steph wasn’t so angry and stressed. She drops her bat, and it rolls under her coffee table.

“It’s the middle of the fucking day, why the everloving fuck are you running around in your furry suit, you jackass?”

Jason’s scowl deepens, offense written over every inch of his face. He brushes glass off his shoulders, letting the pieces clatter against their kin on the floor. “I am not like the bat-freaks, Brown. I was trying to go undercover in a drug gang’s meeting, but I was found out. I lost them a few blocks back, so I had to move to a safe location before they caught my trail again. I caught sight of one of the guys just as I was climbing up so I was a bit rushed. You were closest, don’t be thinkin’ anything of it, you wouldn’t be my first choice if I had a choice.”

“Oh boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, Todd.” She stalks over to the closet in the hall, and when she’s back in front of him she hands him the broom and dustpan.

He takes it and just stares at it for a second before looking back up at her with an eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding me.”

Steph shakes her head. “Nope.”

Jason heaves a sigh, but starts sweeping the glass into a pile. As he cleans his mess, Steph looks over at the microwave clock. 4:06. She curses under her breath, rubbing her eyes for a moment to relieve the headache coming on.

“Did I interrupt something?”

She lowers her hands, crossing her arms, to see Jason looking up at her questioningly. She shrugs with one shoulder, glancing at her laptop. “Only an essay that the universe doesn’t want me to finish on time. No biggie.”

Jason hums lightly with a nod, brushing the glass into the dustpan, but doesn’t say anything more. An idea sparks in Steph’s muddled brain, and she eyes Jason’s hunched form with more interest.

“Hey, Jay, you like literature, right?” A content smile plays on Steph’s lips.

Jason glanced up, but stopped his motion as soon as he caught sight of the cat who ate the canary. “I...dabble.” He hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to finish his thought, but he does anyway. “Why?”

“Well, you see, my dear Jaybird—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—this essay is on Persuasion, which I didn’t actually read? Anyway—”

“—didn’t actually read, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

“—I’m writing about the theme of appearances, and my argument is actually kinda strong?”

Jason throws the glass into the trash can, then moves to sit on the couch and grabs her laptop. “All right. Open the doc.”

Steph grins, taking the laptop and doing as he asked. It worked. It was the longest of shots and it fucking worked. He reads what she has and gives honest—and really harsh?—critiques, picking her essay apart.

“Then fix it!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. She can only take so much criticism before it gets on her nerves. “How do I structure it, oh, master writer? If my quotes are so stupid, what quotes would be better?”

Off the top of his head, Jason lists three quotes. And she has to admit it: they fit her argument perfectly. She grumbles as she flips through the book to find the quotes.

As he rambles on about the theme and effective arguments, Steph absentmindedly reflects that this would have been a great punishment if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so damn much. In fact, it makes her connect school to Jason, and how he was a really good student from what Alfred says.

His borderline monologue is cut off as Steph sits up and looks at him curiously. Jason realizes that she hasn’t been listening and gives her an unamused look. “Really?”

She ignores him. “Why didn’t you go on to college?”

Taken aback by the random question, Jason looks more like a deer in headlights than the terrorizer of Gotham’s crime syndicate. “Uh, because I’m legally dead?”

Steph rolls her eyes. “Please, your dad’s the wealthiest guy in Gotham, he can pull some strings in the right places.” She stops at the angry fire building in his eyes at the mention of Bruce and backtracks like the expert she is. “Or you could literally make a fake identity? You’re a crime lord, you aren’t above fake identities, are you?”

Jason looks lost in thought for a moment, before seamlessly returning to his essay argument-turned-rant as if he hadn’t even stopped. Steph notes the sore subject and actually pays attention this time around, fixing the essay with his help.

---

For the first time in weeks, Steph barges through Jason’s window with a crazed grin on her face.

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason asks from his stove, water boiling beside him.

She doesn’t reply, just walks over to him with a bounce in her step, shoving a stack of papers in his face. The red A is clear as day, and Jason will forever deny the proud grin and high five that overtakes him in that moment.

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starryseo · 5 years ago

Text

costume. | bang chan

this gif is so cute oml

pairing ↠ chan x gender neutral!reader

genre ↠ fluff!!

wc ↠ 1564

summary ↠ chan really likes couple’s costumes.

warnings ↠ a tiiiny bit of swearing. woojin is in this fic bc i wrote it before the news; pls don’t read if you’re not comfortable doing so.

a/n ↠ hope this makes u smile!

"We should do a couple's costume," Chan suggested for the fifth - sixth? - time. "I saw a Robin Hood and Maid Marian costume earlier that we'd look so hot in. I'll even let you have first pick."

You groaned, ignoring him for the fifth, or sixth, time.

And then you groaned again, interrupting whatever it was he was just about to say.

"Once again, Chan, I would like to remind you that we're not a couple."

"That can be changed very quickly," he said, stopping his search through his cupboard to shoot you a smirk, "Y/n, would you do me the honour, make me the happiest guy in all of Korea, and go out with me? Please?"

You stopped scrolling on your phone, raising a brow to perfect the bored expression you were sending his way. "I'm positively swooning, how can anyone say no to that?" You fall back onto his bed with a huff, continuing to scroll on Instagram once more.

"Great! C'mon, babe, let's go get our costumes!" He slammed his cupboard shut, turning to pull you up and off his bed. "What do you want to be?"

"Single."

"Ha ha," he shoved your shoulders before pulling you closer again, "Seriously though?"

You placed your hands on his shoulders, grasping tightly to hold him together, because you knew what you had to say was going to make him crumble.

"I'm sorry, Chan, but I already have a costume."

Promptly after your big reveal, Chan had pushed you out of his room and muttered, "We're over." You were too busy laughing at his theatrics to stop any of that, your snickers increasing when you hear him sigh, scoff and sulk behind the locked door.

"Chan," you called, inhaling deeply to control your laughter, "C'mon, open up. Don't be a baby, baby. I can still help you find a costume!"

Silence.

Aside from your choked chuckles.

"Can you stop being a drama queen, man," you groaned, knocking on his door. "Chan, c'mon!"

Unsurprisingly, more silence.

"Alright, fine, I'll be Robin Hood, okay? You happy now?"

You thought that would bring him out of his blues, but he still wouldn't reply. You knocked again, much more softly, before calling his name.

"Just leave him," Woojin said, coming from the living room. "He'll be fine in, like, 5 minutes." He rolled his eyes, a teasing grin on his face though. "C'mon, the guys have set up Mario Kart."

You joined the rest of the boys as Woojin magically got Chan out of his room - in 3 minutes! - to join in on the fun.

He sat on the seat furthest away from you, shooting you a glare, so you knew he was still mad at you. You rolled your eyes at him, adoring the way he pouted and crossed his arms. He was over the top, yet endearing. A deadly combination.

Some time through playing games, you all decided to place bets on who would win, daring the losers to do random things. Seungmin dared Jisung to not speak for 20 minutes (which he failed after 7 minutes), Minho dared Hyunjin to take his shirt off (20 minutes later and he’s still blushing), and Felix dared Changbin to cuddle him for the rest of the day.

When Chan and Woojin were battling it out, Chan lost. Only by a split second, but all his demands for a rematch fell on deaf ears as Woojin cheered victoriously.

"I dare you to let me pick out your Halloween costume!"

"Fine," Chan huffed, sending a pointed look in your direction when Woojin mentioned the costume.

You grinned at him, but he turned away, his pout returning.

When Jeongin moved to get more snacks, you seized the opportunity to flank Chan's left side, immediately draping yourself on his shoulder.

"You done being a baby?" you teased, linking your arm with his. He tried pulling away, but stopped his futile attempts when you wrapped your other arm around his, too. Instead, he simply turned his face away, suddenly intent on watching the Minho v Felix round. "C'mon, Maid Marian, talk to me."

"Only if you tell me who you're going as."

"No can do, Channie," you sighed, "it's a surprise. You gotta wait til the party like everyone else."

"C'mon," he whined, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Nope," you grinned, "Wooj already knows, I can't tell anybody else."

"Seriously?" he exclaimed, "That's so unfair, y/n, I wanna know!"

You shrugged your shoulders, pinching your fingers to pretend to zip up your lips.

"I hate you," Chan grumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Love you too."

It was Halloween day. Finally. Costumes had been bought, decorations were hung and food was prepped, all tasty and delicious and begging to be eaten.

Just like you all had agreed, the ten of you were wearing the longest coats you could find to cover your costumes. Minho and Jisung had even gone the extra mile to put paper bags over their heads, probably - hopefully - to cover their makeup.

You drew numbers out of a conveniently-placed magician's hat, the numbers dictating the order of the costume reveal.

Hyunjin was first, in a beautiful Captain America suit. He even pulled out a fake shield - from inside the sofa? - to complete the look. Next was a mummy Seungmin: you have no idea how he managed to keep all the layers wrapped so well, but Seungmin was nothing if not insanely talented.

A vampire Jeongin - whose contacts made the youngster actually look pretty terrifying, especially since they glowed in the dark - was next. Then Minho who, upon shredding the paper bag, was revealed to be the Joker.

"You asshole!" Jisung had yelled, jumping from the sofa when Minho took off his jacket too. "We had a deal."

"Holy shit, you actually did it?" Minho laughed, much to everyone else's confusion.

Jisung, who was next anyway, harshly ripped off his own paper bag.

The long, golden locks were a nice touch, but you definitely loved the blue face paint drenching his face.

"You gotta take the jacket off too, man," Minho chuckled.

Jisung was vehemently opposed, shaking his head, but Hyunjin and Minho tackled him, ripping the cover to reveal Jisung in a flowing white dress.

"Isn't Cap supposed to be the good guy?" Jisung grumbled, crossing his arms as he glared at Hyunjin.

"Not anymore," Hyunjin smirked, tossing over Jisung's jacket, though the damage had been done.

Jisung made a very cute Smurfette.

Once everyone's laughter had died down - which took a very, very, long time, because one look at Jisung caused a giggling domino effect to erupt - Woojin revealed himself to be Cupid. He even had wings and a cute heart shaped bow and arrow set. Felix was the angel to Changbin's devil and they both pulled off the duality stunningly well.

You were next to go and you could see the excitement rolling off Chan in waves. He immediately sat up, cheeky grin plastered on his face as he raised his brows, desperately awaiting your big reveal.

Just to tease him, and he rolled his eyes when he caught on to your actions, you undid your jacket as slowly as possible.

Peter Pan.

The fun-loving, Captain-Hook-hating, youngster was who you decided to dress up as. You took out a hat from your jacket pocket to complete the look, twirling the sword that came with the costume around on your finger.

Whatever expression you thought you'd see on Chan's face, you definitely weren't expecting to see him that shocked and confused, his mouth dropping open slightly. You thought you'd see a teasing grin or him laughing, but not this.

"You asshole!" Chan imitated Jisung, turning to face Woojin. "You did this on purpose!"

"No idea what you mean," he let out airily, but by the smirk on his face, you knew he knew.

"Ooh, is Cupid playing matchmaker?" Minho taunted, "It's your turn, Channie!"

Chan huffed as he stood up, shooting Woojin a vicious glare, before facing you for the reveal. He looked nervous, cheeks tinted a light pink, and it was cute watching him bite his lips as he fumbled to open his jacket.

A green dress. You would have joined the others in laughing if you weren't 100 percent sure that dress belonged to a certain tinkering fairy.

Chan certainly did make a pretty Tinkerbell. His muscles were a bit much though in the tight dress, but you weren't exactly complaining about the view of those.

"Best couple's costume award definitely goes to Chan and Y/n," Hyunjin grinned, shooting you a thumbs up.

"You're welcome!" Woojin hollered, laughing harder when Chan flipped him off.

"That's so unfair," Felix whined, "they didn't even plan that!"

As the boys argued over who would get what awards for the night, you turned to a still-pink-faced Chan.

"We're in a couple's costume," he smirked, "It all worked out in the end."

"Tink's just obsessed with Peter," you argued, "they're not a real couple."

"Just like us then, yeah?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Is Chan flirting with Y/n? Is that seriously all he's got? No wonder it's taken him this long to make a move."

Chan grabbed your hand, making a swift escape to the safe confines of his room.

If anyone asked what the two of you got up to after that, you were simply telling ghost stories.

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goldstonegolem64 · 5 years ago

Text

Side story This takes place during the three years that Voltron went missing. This is also a way for me to put some ideas I had out into the world

“It has been about twenty months since the castle of loins disappeared along with Voltron, some of it’s paladin and princess Allure of Altea. In their Absence they left behind the Coalition and the new Galra empire on the verge of another massive galaxy war. But thank to the efforts of Empire Lotor, Commander Matt Holt and the remaining Paladins of Voltron peace was maintained” Jay stopped reading the news articles and tossed the table onto his desk . He then removed his Glasses, rubbed the bridge of his noise and placed his glasses down on his desk. “ God I need to get going home ” Jay said as he grabbed his glasses and was ready to leave his office.

In the passed year and a half. Jay was put in charge of a coalition and imperial sponsored Mercenary company despite his protest called the Volt troop.The troop was made up of two fleets of Coalition fighter pilot, Two warship that housed a crew of three hundred each with a near infinite supple of old mode Galra sentries , Fifteen Valkyrie type and five gladiator type robeasts.The troops main job were to protect shipping vessels, clearing planets of Pirates or Maverick Galra fleet commanders that had left the empire after Lotor’s rise to power and the rare red queen hive world that was found. It was a pain in the ass. But after two year of fighting a nearly endless battle and countless deaths an near crippling fear that he would not return from a mission . It was nice to finally to not have that fear nagging at the back of his mind

As he made it to the door it opened suddenly to Reveal a tall purple skinned man with white hair. Jay was caught off guard by this sudden appearance of his friend and the emperor of the Galra empire. Lotor

“ OH Joseph have I caught you at a bad time” Lotor asked as

“ No No I was just on my way out. But what brings you here Sir “ Jay asked as he straighten his clothes and looked more dignified.

“ Please don’t call me sir. Joseph were friends and I’m here to personally hand you this “ Lotor said as he handed Jay a table

Jay grabbed the table “ First I’m at work so were not friend were employee and in employer “ Jay watched Lotor rolled his eyes as he heard that “ And second what am I looking at here “Jay said as he looked at the data pad that showed him cargo Ship routes along with picture of what looked like an Altean ships that looked like the Castle of lions. Jay felt his heart skip a beat but something in the back of his told him that it wasn’t them “ I’m guessing that we’re either looking at we’ve professional photo shopped image or we’ve found are selves another Arc”. Jay said as he handed the table back to Lotor

“ Yes it seems like it” Lotor said

“ Does The Coalition know About this?” Jay asked

“ Yes Mr. Holt was the one that informed me about it they already sent a team to recover it and they would like some added protection ” Lotor said

“ Alright then I will send the twins to handle it ?’ Jay said

“ Now that we have that out of the way How are the boy’s doing ?’ Lotor said as the two start walking down the hallway

“Well their still kind of mad at me for being away from home for long periods of time. But they are enjoying school and having friends their own ages. Fitz is finally getting a hang on math and science. Bastion is getting into some trouble do to his habit of hiding and setting up trip wires during recess which as caused a domino effect where other kids are following suit and several teacher have called me to find him Which is getting annoying because Bastion is getting better at hiding when he doesn’t like the class. Usamu is getting better with his powers we’ve lost a few plates but hey he’s getting better he’s also getting better at painting which is nice the girls are loving school and learning about everything “ Jay’s cheek marks started to glow a little “ As well as Ezra’s as moved”

“ That’s good to hear “ Lotor said smiling

“ Now how are you holding up mister emperor of half of the know universe and how are my favorite generals doing I haven’t had time to call them seeing as I’ve been jumping planet to planet ever other week “ Jay said

“ Well Acxa has spent most of her free time looking for missing paladins on her off time. Ezor and Zethrid are stomping out any warlord or pirates that dare come in to are territory they have also started dating “

“ Weren’t they already dating ?” Jay asked confused

“ I don’t know to be honest. Maybe they were and I’m just noticing it now . But never mind that . As for Narti she’s still recovering from being released from my mother control the druids and doctors say she will be cleared to return to active duty in the next few months” Lotor said smiling

“ That’s good to hear I”

“ As for me. I’m board out of my mind. I don’t know how my Father did it. All I do is still there on the throne reading and listening to people reports. I beardly every get to go out and pilot my pieces of the Ragnarok without being followed by three warships. I missed the old day where I could go where I wanted with out everyone freaking out that I might go missing” Lotor said

“ well your the last of the royal blood line so if you go missing there will be a power vacuum that will case a massive civil war that will have either never end or Sendek will show up and wage a one side war against the coalition and one wants that” Jay said

“ Your not wrong but still I hate it” Lotor said

“ I know but still you have to do it for the better meant for the universe. “

“ I know “

“ Now have you gotten back into the dating gaming?” Jay asked

Lotor froze up and looked towards Jay “ No I haven’t but I have had a fair share of suiters. But none of them have meet my standers” lotor said

“ What are your standers again “ Jay asked knowing something was up

“ Well they need to be head strong, fun to be round , have to have the same interests as me. Acutely like me for who I am and not what I am”

“ Allura your still after Allura aren’t you “ Jay said as he opened the building front door letting the Emperor out first “Ever after what she said and did to you”

“ Ok she called me a tyrant like my father and slammed me into the ground. Not the worst thing I’ve been through”

“ That’s true also do you want to come by for dinner seeing as your here and the kids would love to see you again” Jay said as the hanger door opened to revel the Valkyrie sitting there waiting

“ Sadly I have to return home I have a meeting in the next two hour “ Lotor said annoyed

“ That suck” Jay said

“ It dose but like you said. If I’m not the one doing it some one might get it wrong. Did I say that right ?” Lotor asked

“ Yes you did bud “ Jay said laughing a little

“ Is it time to go my Pilot “ VAl said as she walked toward jay.” Oh hello Emperor Lotor It is nice to see you “

“ it is good to see you too Val. “ Lotor said

“ It’s Good to see you as well Is Ragna with you I wish to speak to him about something important?” Val asked

“Sadly no he is currently Help Acxe in looking for the missing paladins But when I see him again I will tell him that you wish to spoke with him.” Lotor said as he started walking back towards the ship he came in

“Thank you and have fun at your meeting “ Val said as jay disappear into her mouth

“ I’ll try” Lotor said as the Valkyrie started to talk off

The flight home was always a beauty to watch as the twin suns of Hades-4 started to set behind the massive mountain range that surrounded the city of Persephone. It was nice to look at the city below him as they passed by the mountain range . As they flow out of the city the sight of a massive forest came into view an as they flow over it the sky turned from a dark green to a dark blue starry sky. it was a beautiful sight to and was one reason he choose this planet as his new home. But the main reason he choose this world was the fact that it was close to the milky way so just in case someone tried to invade it and the school system here was good for the kid so it was a win/win.

A smile creeped across jays face as the sight of a familiar mountain with a small town in the make at the foot of it. The town didn’t look like much but it was a nice place to start fresh and raise a family. It really helped Jay coup when the others when missing. As the Valkyrie got closer to the town he saw people walking down the street. Some stopped to look up and wave to him. he continued to fly over the town until he go a two story house that was next to a small pond as well as a hanger as they landed near the hanger jay got off Val as she opened the door to her hanger. As Jay was walking back to his house hands in his pockets. He notices that some one was sitting on the front step of the porch. As he got closer to the house he saw Fitz Sitting there talking to someone on his phone

“ Yeah next week it will be fun just you and me at the festival” Fitz had a smile on his face unaware that his Dad was standing there watching him just out side of the porch light’s reach .” Yeah I just need to ask my dad “

“ Ask me what Fitzy “ Jay said as his cheek marks started to glow along with his eyes as he stepped into the light

Fitz screamed at the sudden appearance of his dad “ Hi Dad “

“ Hi Fitz how was your day at school and who are you talking too” JAy asked as he sat down next to his son

“ It was alright I mean it’s school what is going to happen and i’m taking to Axton “ Fitz put his phone on speaker “ Say hi Axton “

{ Hello Mr. Sorin } a female voice said over the phone

“ Hello Ms.Mercer exactly what are you and my son plan on doing at this on coming school festival ?” Jay asked looking at His son as their face started to turn a bright shade of green

{ UUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH nothing we were just going to hang out and play some games right Fitz “ Axton said trying but failing to hide her embarrassment

“ Yeah we just going to play some games and ride some rides” Fitz said still blush

“ Alright if that’s all then yes Fitz you can go just be home before midnight “ Jay said as he got up from the stair he was sitting on and walked to the front door and before opening it jay turned back to look at his son “ And no funny business “ Jay then opened the front door and walked into the house followed by jay yelling “ I’m home” Jay walked into the living room

“ Hello father” Bastion

“ Hi dad” Usamu said

Jay turned to see his other two son both sitting on the couch Bastion was watching something on the tv while Usamu was drawing in his sketch book

“ Hey kiddos how was school.?” Jay said

“ Same old same old “ Usamu said not looking away from sketch book

“ I punched a guy in the throat because he was picking on some kid in a whee chair “

“ First off that not good don’t punch people second of did you get caught punching this guy “ Jay asked

“ No I punched then ran into the car and then Ezra drove off before anyone could see me “

“ Good to know and good on you for punching him and standing up for that kid. Now don’t do that again . Because I don’t want to hear Mrs. Henbit yelling at the next pta meeting about how her precious baby watched two kids beating the shit out of each other or some other stupid shit she’ll bitch about.” Jay said annoyed as in the back of his mind he could hear the screech of henbit “ Now what do you guys want for dinner tonight?” Jay asked

“ Ezra order pizza and took Molly and Clay with them to get it” Bastion said

“Alright then” Jay walked over to the couch “ what we watching today” Jay said then he sat down between his two sons and final started to relax from along days work.

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lunerbean · 6 years ago

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Witch Tips 12 + announcement

Damn everytime I reach the next milestone I'm just as surprised as the first one. Check out the #10tips tag on my blog to see the previous posts! And follow me to see the next ones!

I originally did this for every 10 followers I got, but when that proved to be way too overwhelming, I switched it to every 50 followers. Friends... I'm getting overwhelmed again. I'm in the process of trying to get a second job and so I'm going to be even more busy here pretty soon. I also started doing a Weekly Witch Challenge, posted every Sunday. Would anyone be upset with me if I change the Witch Tips again...? I'm thinking 10 tips every 100 followers would be perfect. And if I only get like 100 followers a week, I can change it back to every 50. I just want to be able to give you the best tips and information that I can, and doing it every 100 would mean more time for me to write them and still be able to give the best advice I can.

And you can always send me an ask if you have questions about a particular thing and I'll be able to answer it to the best of my abilities. Alright, thanks for reading this and onto the next 10 witch tips.

1. The most underrated yet most iconic tool -The Broom

I rarely, if not never, see people talk about the broom. There's so much about crystals, essential oils, etc but not enough information about broom. Hell, I've only mentioned it a couple of times. The broom is an essential tool in witchcraft. It's main purpose is to push out negative energy. You can use a regular cleaning broom for this, but a special ritual broom is even better. This is called a Besom Broom. Use it to cleanse and protect the area before casting a circle.

2. Draw some sigils on the bottom of your mugs

This is best for witches that are open and don't have to worry about getting caught, but you can write it with clear nail polish if you're in the broom closet.

On the bottom of your favorite mug (or any glass really) use a marker or paints to draw some sigils that will help bring energy for the day. (To clarify, by bottom, I mean the part that touches the table, not the part where the liquid goes. I don't want anyone getting hurt by toxic markers) then use clear nail polish to charge it, while protecting it from water at the same time.

3. Draw some sigils on the backs of things that hang in your home

This is great because no one will ever inspect the back of a picture frame hanging on your wall. You can charge the sigils to protect the home, the people in the photos, to bring love into the home, or anything else you can think of.

4. Some more places to hide sigils

In your shoes

In your wallet

In your bra

Under rocks in your garden

In the glove box in your car

The underside of your cats litter box

5. Put herbs in a tea infuser in the bath

Herbs are a bitch to clean up after you've been using them for bath magick. If you get a big tea infuser ball and put the herbs for your spell in there, it'll make it a lot easier to deal with when you finish.

6. A spell to help heal a heartbroken friend

One of my best friends went through a terrible break up earlier this year. And I felt helpless because i was across the country from her when it happened. And although I was able to talk to her on the phone for hours everyday and send her some Dominos hot wings, I wanted to do more so I wrote this spell. It could be done if the person is with you as well, but it was originally designed to heal someone who was miles away. Here it is:

Gather:

Rose quartz

Blue lace agate

Rhodonite

(The more the merrier with all of the stones)

Something to represent the heartbroken individual (or grab the whole person if you can)

A bowl of salt water (I was by the ocean so I used ocean water, but adding salt to water works in a pinch)

After casting a circle, place the crystals in a circle, surrounding the object representing the person. Sit next to the arrangement and place the bowl of water on your lap. Take a few moments to breathe. Take deep, calming breaths. Feel the calm energy inside of you. Hold your hands over the object. As you perform the spell, imagine the calming energies flowing from your hands and into the person you want to heal.

With each line, dip your fingers into the salt water and sprinkle it over the object.

"Broken heart, fill with love

Feel the joy and peace above

Relax your body, find your smile

Broken heart, mend all the while.

Rest your eyes or let them cry

I'll be here till your spirit's high."

Repeat the passage 3 times then close the circle.

7. When to ground yourself and how

Grounding is the process of staying connected to your body and the earth. It can help a lot when you're having troubles such a dissociation, insomnia, trouble focusing, etc. Some of my favorite ways to ground myself include walking barefoot in grass, having a heavy meal, giving someone a really long hug (explain why you need one first so you know they're okay with it. I usually do this for at least a couple of minutes) Try multiple different things and see which ones work best for you. There are also other methods out there, such a rubbing dirt on your skin, taking a mug bath, laying in the grass naked. I just personally find the other ones both convenient and effective for me.

8. When NOT to ground yourself

I have to put these two tips next to each other to balance each other out. There are time when you actually don't want to be grounded. When working with spirits, it can be harder to connect with them when you're grounded. Astral projection also comes more difficultly, as well as lucid dreaming are more examples.

Be sure to ground yourself afterwards though, it can be exhausting otherwise. It may be more difficult to ground yourself after some of these, namely astral projection, but it's very important to do so regardless.

9. Take care of your bodily needs before attempting astral projection

This really goes to anything, witchcraft or non-witchcraft related that requires a clear mind. If you're going to meditate or astral project, you'll need to be free of any distractions. So drink some water, eat some food (but don't get too full before astral projection, see tip 8. Eat a good meal afterwards) go to the bathroom, and do some stretches. It makes it so much easier to focus on what you need to when your body isn't piping in to let you know it wants something.

10. Use biodegradable coffee filters when burying things

The most important part of witchcraft is caring for the planet. That's why, if a spell requires you to bury something, you must make sure that nothing buried will harm the planet. Biodegradable coffee filters are perfect to use as a little sachet to hold all the herbs and stones and whatever else that you need to bury. You can even roll a second filter into a line to use as a drawstring for the first.

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to send me an ask if you have questions or just want to say hi or something. Have a magical day.

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ask-the-crimson-king · 5 years ago

Note

Alternate ending + thousand sons stay loyal / magnimagic doesn’t break imperial webway OR ... post-heresy redemption posting?

[Alternate Endings]

[Part 2 to be answered below the cut]

Instead of breaking the Imperial Webway and accepting Tzeentch’s power, Magnus attempts to look for a way around it. He knows that Horus has turned traitor, he witnessed it himself and the Emperor must know this information. However, he also knows that his power and time is running fast, so he tries to find someone he can trust with the information, at the very least, if he cannot find another way to contact someone like Malcador since the Emperor seems to be preoccupied. While this is breaking the Edict, at the very least a warning will have been sent and potential consequences can be dealt with at a later date.

He would then immediately return to Prospero and begin rallying his Legion in order to prepare their homeworld in case Horus wishes to bring his Legion and whomever else he may have turned with him. Of course Tizca is highly defended, thus it would be costly for them to attack, but Magnus now knows too much.

Once he feels certain Prospero will be safe, he prepares to set out into the galaxy in order to warn as many of his brothers as possible. He knows that many are against him and his Legion when it comes to utilizing psychic abilities, so he sends out separate Fellowships in order to cover more ground. Magnus also sends quite a few messages to Terra, and eventually receives a message from Dorn stating that they needed to speak.

Magnus explains everything he saw and expresses concerns that others will have turned with him, and Dorn agrees that this matter ought to be dealt with, and the Emperor needs to be informed. The Emperor asks Magnus to go onto the Golden Throne so that the Webway can be kept stable while he is away, but he explains no more. The Thousand Sons remain on Terra, though a portion return to Prospero to ensure their home is kept safe and secure, and to see if any other traitors are sailing the stars. The Isstvan III and Isstvan V events still occur, although now with the prior warning, the traitors are stopped and trounced much earlier. The Emperor returns to Terra and completes the Webway, which Magnus then operates, and peace returns to the galaxy. In a way.

With the return of Roboute Guilliman to the Imperium, Magnus decides to try and meet his brother. Instead of the clash on Luna, or at least the clash being so violent, Magnus fights only in order to defend himself, and not to truly harm Guilliman. He came to talk, and he means to be genuine.

At first there is, of course, incredible suspicion, but Magnus calls off his warriors and there is a momentary ceasefire. He explains how he is honestly a little glad that Guilliman has returned. Maybe the Imperium can stop stagnating as horrifically in his care. Perhaps it would even be able to rebound and become somewhat similar to how it was during the Crusade, though even then it was not very... sustainable, truly. There were some good worlds, but there were also those that were ravaged and merely left to rot.

Before Guilliman can truly react, Magnus sends both of them into the depths of the Warp where he knows neither of their sons nor affiliates will be able to hear them (or so Magnus believes). He explains to Guilliman the true purpose of why he came, and why he brought them both to this small expanse of the Warp. When they return, only seconds will have gone by, though Guilliman still seems dubious.

He is ready to finally sever himself from Tzeentch, though he is not sure if it will be in any way successful. However, he also offers an alliance to Guilliman, and makes it clear that, even if he DOES free himself, he has no intention of rejoining the Imperium. He wishes to be able to have his own system, his own people, his own home. However, that does not mean that Imperial citizens will be barred from visiting. Essentially, he wishes to remake the Sortiarius-Prospero system into the vision he saw Prospero becoming ten millennia ago. He wants there to be a bastion for knowledge and for learning and mastery, a place of enlightenment again. It will be open to anyone who wishes to come, no matter what they wish to study. Guilliman thinks this to be a trap, and Magnus releases both of them, and they return to where they had been standing on Luna. The Thousand Sons leave, though Magnus lingers, stating to Guilliman,

+I shall be waiting for when you change your mind.+

Slowly, he begins to make changes within his Legion. Those who are Tzeentchian zealots are sent away from Sortiarius while he confides in the few he feels he can trust. He reveals his plans of severance, and to make the system into a place of enlightenment for anyone across the galaxy. A new age would be coming. There is unease, there is suspicion, and there are a few who are hesitant to make an opinion.

However, a handful do stand with the Crimson King, and others soon follow suit. Enough join where Magnus feels confident enough that he can begin planning in earnest. Those who were sent away were sent to find whatever caches they deem valuable, and to eliminate any Imperials who may be lurking nearby. Even with the return of Guilliman, if he ever did consider their alliance, he would still defend himself and his sons until an official edict was decreed.

It takes some time before the next generation of Aspirants are ready to join the ranks of the Legion, and said Aspirants are also on board with Magnus’ intentions, as the Crimson King himself vetted those who were allowed to train them versus those who were not. Old teachings of praising Tzeentch were subtly exchanged for ones reflecting the older doctrines of Prospero, putting more praise within the ability of the psyker while also recognizing that yes, Tzeentch exists, however one should not depend on him for power. Those who were deemed too radical, once a major force within the Legion, slowly become more and more outnumbered. More psykers are brought to Sortiarius to be trained in the ways of the Great Ocean, and eventually, those deemed too dangerous to the plans are outright killed. Others take their places. Others who share in the vision that Magnus has for the system.

Everything begins to fall into place. A domino effect begins. Libraries and magnificent archives are beginning to be built in earnest. There are some expeditions to Prospero to recover any scraps that may be left behind, and to see if it would be more hospitable to the humans who wished to come to the system than Sortiarius. Eventually, Sortiarius may be made hospitable, but Prospero could work for now.

Upon receiving a message from Guilliman concerning negotiations over the purposed alliance, Magnus takes a warband with him for both protection and to demonstrate that Magnus is not speaking alone. His ideals are ones shared by his Legion, too. It takes a bit of time before Guilliman reluctantly agrees, and Magnus tells him that if any Imperials come with the intent of being hostile, he will defend his home and what he has built. Guilliman acknowledges this, and the two part ways.

With everything now somewhat settled, Magnus calls upon Ahriman and offers him a chance to fully redeem himself. He asks if he will help reverse the Rubric and save his brothers, to which Ahriman agrees. The two then begin to concentrate on it, while the rest of the Legion continues to build up Sortiarius. On occasion, Magnus sends out a call throughout the Warp inviting psykers to come to the system. A promise for them to learn how to wield their powers to the fullest extent, or merely just a place to learn without being persecuted for their abilities.

Sortiarius gains a human populace.

It takes many years before Magnus finds everything to be satisfactory. Many long, arduous years. But one day, he finally feels as though he can unveil it to the galaxy at large. Of course, he knows that no one will come at first. No one will truly trust them.

So, in order to combat this, he invites Guilliman himself to see everything.

Of course his brother arrives with a large escort because no one trusts Magnus [and he does not blame them for this in the slightest], but he gives his brother the grand tour and demonstrates everything he envisions of doing with whomever wishes to come. He invites some of the mortals who had come with him to explore and learn whatever they wish, despite being fearful of the Inquisition. Magnus even remarks how it can help dismantle the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy’s hold on the Imperium to Guilliman privately later on.

He also asks if his brother could try sending a few groups of mortals to the system, psyker or not, who may be interested in what he has to offer. He also says that they can be watched or escorted by whomever he needs in order to feel more confident that no brainwashing or indoctrination will occur. He does this for the betterment of humanity. Knowledge is power, and now that he spent so much time under Tzeentch’s control, he knows how to keep these psykers out of his hands, for the most part. He can help them, if only Guilliman will allow him to help them.

Again, it takes more time, but slowly, ever so slowly, there is a trickle into the system, and people are either staying or returning to the Imperium at large with more knowledge and they can recognize exactly what had been going on around them. Overtime these programs begin to weaken the hold of the Imperial Cult, and there is a steady flow both in and out of the system. But the system is never deemed an Imperial one. Magnus doubts it ever could be, and he never wants to join for a slew of reasons. Perhaps one day, in the far future, he could change his mind. But for now? He is content with his new home, and with how it functions. One day he could truly open it to the galaxy at large, welcoming all sorts of species on the grounds that no one is to ever pull a weapon on another. There will be no hatred, no prejudice. Everyone who is present came for enlightenment, and it will not be denied merely based on birth.

It could lead to a more unified galaxy as a whole, even.

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themightyzan · 6 years ago

Text

A Terrible Idea, Part 10

(Zevran x Mahariel) (Masterpost)

Santinalia had started in Antiva.

The celebrations had begun a few days earlier, and by now the streets were nearly constantly filled with revelers, who were a constant source of chaos that showed no signs of slowing down. It was a blessing and a curse in his trade, and more so a curse this year because of the current state of his plan.

Lyna had been with the Crows for a month.

He knew the exact amount of time because he had spent most of it trying to keep track of her. Not that the Crows had made it easy. She had been shut in to one of their safe houses for almost two weeks, and when she finally started going back to her rented room a pair of Crows were always in attendance.

Maybe they didn’t trust her, or thought he was going to try and meet with her. They weren’t wrong to not trust them, but they were idiots to think either of them would so easily jeopardize their plans. Plans that had taken too long to put together, but his group had been, probably rightly, full of other questions before any real thought could be put into what they were going to do.

So no, he would never try to meet with her himself, not right now, but he didn’t like that none of the others could seem to get close enough to meet with her either. He had promised that there would always be someone she could reach, a backup nearby if needed, and the Crows were being amazingly effective at making that a hard promise to keep. He had to settle for watching her from afar. It wasn’t as effective, but it fit into the narrative of him pining after her, so he let them see him across the market, or in a crowded street, and was content with the fact that they thought he was regretting letting her leave.

Which was why he was perched on a roof now, looking down into the over-crowded town square, waiting for her group to make their entrance, and hoping that one of the twins would be able to get close enough to pass on his message.

The throng of people pulsed below him, a small open space forming in the center of them where a dedicated group had carved out an area for musicians to set up, and dancers to weave together in tight knit circles. He couldn’t help but smile at the chaos of it all. Any other time he would be among them, taking advantage of the masks and flowing spirits to seduce one of the dancers into a secluded corner, but some things were more important than seduction, and wasn’t that a strange thought.

He could just make out Silvano and Tomasso in the crowd, their grinning fox masks easy to spot in the sea of faces. They lounged casually near one of the gates, their poses giving nothing away, even as they turned, almost imperceptibly toward a new group entering the square.

Lyna.

He would know her anywhere. She could have been wearing rags and the mask of a hag, and he would still know her. As it was, she was in a bright yellow dress, and a domino mask decorated with flowers. She was surrounded by a group of scowling masks, and tense walks. The maiden amongst the monsters, an old tale that he remembered from his childhood at the brothel. One of the workers had enjoyed telling it to the children, though the message about beauty blooming amongst fear was lost to him at the time.

By the set of her shoulders, he could tell she was on a mission, and after she said something to the man beside her, the group with her dispersed to different areas. He supposed they did so on purpose, the Crows rarely did anything without reason, but it definitely helped to make things easier when it came to getting her a message.

As he watched the twins get blocked at nearly every turn as they tried to make their way, unobtrusively, towards her, he rectified his way of thinking. Things were never easier, at least not when it came to the Crows.

Lyna worked her way around the stalls of food, her hands waving in front of her excitedly as she talked with each seller, and tried each morsel of food they offered her to taste. Zevran couldn’t help smiling at the display. She was charming them for free food, an old habit he recognized because she had done it often enough while they had traipsed around Fereldan. In fact, it had been a common joke among their group that she would be able to find them dinner, and for free, at each town they visited if they simply gave her enough time.

Eventually, one of the twins made it to her, their fox mask dipping towards her before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the swirl of dancers. It was a good plan, the constant movement worked well in hiding whatever exchange they might have, and it gave Zevran a chance to appreciate her legs as her dress twisted around them.

The musicians were currently playing something fast and tumbling while the dancers worked in and out of themselves in intricate circles, couples twirling together then apart before finding new partners to grab onto. He wouldn’t have minded joining in himself, since such joyous dancing often lead to equally as joyous couplings, but he had a job to do, and somewhere along the way that had actually started to matter to him.

So he got to his feet and went to lean against one of the taller chimney stacks that dotted the roof around him. From this position, he could see and be seen as easily as he wished too. He was very sure that the Crows that had come in with Lyna had already spotted him, just as he was sure she had, even circling with the dancers, and he let himself stare at her, watching as her breath became labored from dancing and laughing, and long after the twin had moved away from her, until she stumbled to an empty seat and collapsed onto it in a laughing heap next to one of her companions.

They shared a few words, Lyna saying something to make the woman laugh, before she lifted her head and settled an unwavering look on Zevran.

He was slightly taken aback by it, even more so when she raised a hand and beckoned him down from the roof.

What game was she playing at? What part of their plan could possibly include him going down and meeting with her while a group of, no doubt armed, Crows looked on. But, no matter how constantly he tried to to remind her, and himself, that he didn’t trust her when it came to their relationship, he hadn’t lied when he said that she was the only one he trusted to infiltrate the Crows.

He couldn’t start doubting what she did now.

Even if it did seem stupid.

So he made his way down from the roof and into the press of the crowd. It took time to push his way to the center, but Lyna was standing at the edge of the dancing, waiting on him. She grabbed his hand without preamble and tugged him into the flow of dancers just as the music changed. They started a simplified version of the dance around the more exuberant participants, and he waited until he had turned her in a few spins before trying to speak.

“Taking chances now are we?” “Maybe I just missed your face,” she replied, her smile easy as she pulled her hands free to step around him. When he was able to catch her around the waist again, he did so. “I can get behind that idea,” he murmured, dropping his head enough to brush his lips over her cheek and towards her ear, “but I know you better than that, yes? You wouldn’t have called me down here if you didn’t have a plan, my dear Warden. So why not tell me what it is.”

Lyna reached a hand up to his neck, effectively keeping his head in place. “There has been talk about a meeting, but they still aren’t sure you are...amenable enough.”

He felt a rush at the words. So close.

“And what would help speed that along exactly?”

She waited for him to lean back and twirl her away from him again before leaning in to press a kiss right above the line where his skin and armor met. “What do you think?”

She was to seduce him then. It amused him more than it should, and he hid his smile against the crown of her head. She had never been one to take the seduction roll with him, even when they had been together. The few times she had tried, it had been awkward and stilted, and often ended in her being annoyed at him for laughing. But, she had never been acting those times, this time… this time she was.

And he was quite enjoying it.

Especially the way she was currently nibbling her way over his collar bone.

“So, I’m to play like putty in your hand?”

“Well,” she started, leaning back to look up at him, “if it’s not too much trouble.”

He twirled her away from him again abruptly enough that she laughed. “I’ve always liked trouble, yes?”

He’d thought it many times since she’d come to Antiva, that it was too easy to forget everything between them and simply enjoy being with her again, but it had never been more true then it was today. It was too easy to forget where they were with each other when his hands were sliding over her hips, and she curled her arms around his neck so that she could pull herself up enough to press kisses against his jaw every time their dancing brought them close together again.

They made a few more circuits before he pulled her out of the dancing and into the crush of the crowd. When the press caused her to stumble into him, he leaned down and caught her lips with his own.

She didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss.

He kept waiting for her to pull away, tell him they needed to stop as she had the other times, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she pushed up on her toes and brought her hands up to tangle in the ends of his hair, her mouth opening in immediate submission.

It wasn’t like the last times, when they had both been too aware that the kissing shouldn’t be happening, or that they only had limited time. No, it was more like during the time between the Blight and his return to Antiva, when they could simply enjoy each other.

It felt right, and when he pulled away and lead her out of the crowd, she came with him willingly, a smile wide on her face.

A real smile. Her smile.

“I hope we are in a hurry,” she laughingly huffed out.

He glanced over his shoulder to her, and sent a wink with his reply. “Of course.”

“Oh, good.”

There were no empty rooms near the square, filled as it was to bursting, but there was a stable that he knew had a back stall that they kept free for a lordling that was currently out of the city, and neither Lyna nor himself had ever been opposed to less than ideal conditions.

They tumbled into the hay together, clothes and weapons quickly discarded around them as their hands sought flesh.

It wasn’t like he had imagined it would be.

Not that he had imagined it.

It was just… The first time they were together again after everything should have been slow. They should be taking their time in exploring each other, seeing what was different and what was the same. Not like this, not desperate and fumbling, and rushing so quickly to completion that he couldn’t even wrap his head around it.

But here he was, burying himself into her with almost no build up, grasping at her back as she arched against him, pounding against each other in a stuttered rhythm. He could feel her lips against his ear as his orgasm crashed over him, Elvish words jumbling together into incoherence as she crested after him.

They clung to each other afterwards, their movements slowing until all that was left was their heavy breathing and occasionally shifting limbs in the surprising silence of the stable.

He felt her smile against his shoulder before she pushed back to look at him, sweat glistening across her forehead and cheeks.

“It seems I am constantly contradicting myself when it comes to you.”

“You should have known better, yes? I have often told you I am irresistible.”

She smiled at the joke before wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her cheek to his in an old, familiar gesture. It was that simple act that made something crack inside of him.

No.

He couldn’t do this.

It would be too easy, far too easy to simply give into what he knew she was still offering. And then it would be far to easy to have it all fall apart, the way it had before.

Because they were both still who they had always been.

Had he learned nothing?

He forced himself to pull back from her, to make his expression light as her arms fell away from his neck. “That should be enough to convince them of my continued need, yes? I can be more theatrical if you like.”

The pleasure faded from her face, and he watched as her gaze traced over his face and then away before she stood from his lap and went in search of her clothes.

Zevran followed her up, and started sorting through his own gear. “What a serious expression, my dear Warden, was this not supposed to be a pleasant diversion.”

“I thought it was a pleasant diversion, nothing more, and yet...”

“This was a mistake,” she countered.

It took him by surprise, and he gave a huff of a laugh before responding. “I am supposed to still be pining for you, no? This should be exactly what they were looking for for proof.”

“At the moment, I don’t really care how convinced they are. All this ended up being, was a reminder of how far away you still are.”

When he didn’t respond, Lyna smoothed a hand over her dress, and dropped onto a hay bail to put on her shoes. “I’m sorry, Zevran,” she started, her head tipped forward over her feet, so he couldn’t see her face. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t come with you, that I made you feel like your problems weren’t important.” She looked up, her expression closed off, and shoved her hair behind her ears. “Like you weren’t important. And I’m sorry for just showing up here and hoping that we could get past this. I’ve handled everything about us in the last year badly, and I’m sorry.”

She stood, replacing her mask as she did so, and walked towards him, her hands automatically reaching out to help with his buckles, her gaze intent on what her hands were doing. “But… I’m still not sorry that I stayed to help with the Darkspawn, they needed to be dealt with, and were still my responsibility. I’m also not sorry that I didn’t tell you I was coming here, because you would have tried to find a way to stop me, and I wanted to see you.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “I realize that I can’t keep hoping that you are going to suddenly change your mind. Sleeping with you was a mistake, because it obviously isn’t going to go where I want it to, and… and I just can’t do that, this, anymore.”

She stepped away from him, and clasped her hands together behind her back. Her expression, for the first time that he could ever remember, was completely unreadable by him. “Maybe it’s best we won’t have much contact anymore. I’ll be in touch.”

And then she was leaving, before he could even begin to form a reply.

Zevran didn’t let himself think too hard about what she said, as he finished getting redressed, didn’t let himself show anything but the needed hurt when he stepped into the alley beside the stable. A quick glance around told him he was alone, but he could see Lyna at the edge of the crowd. She was standing with the group of Crows she had arrived with, a sly smile on her face as she looked from them to where he stood.

He let himself look lost and confused before burying his head in his hands, and missed her walking away. When he looked up again, the twins were in her place, their eyes searching behind their identical masks. Zevran waved a hand at the silent questions and turned to leave himself. He'd had enough of celebrations.

#Zevran Arainai #Zevran x Mahariel #Zevran x warden #Dragon Age #A Terrible Idea #Fanfiction #Fanfic

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