#but we'll have to wait and see once it airs i guess!

[thevioletcaptain]

me tuning in to watch a new cop show because jensen is the lead

[pseudowho]

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

[rueclfer]

shut up, my moms calling // touya todoroki

when you sneak out to share a first at the river.

a/n: back on my touya b.s.

part two

"Jesus, what the fuck happened?"

By the time you approached Touya, you were gasping for air. There he was leaning up against the fence, tossing his flashlight up in the air while he patiently waited for your arrival while it looked like you just came from an animal attack.

You didn't answer him. You were bent over, clutching onto the chain link fence with one hand and the other on your scraped knee as you tried to catch your breath.

"Fuck." You hiss. "God damn."

You look up to see his shit eating grin, holding back his laughter.

"Fuck off." You huff. "My...neighbor's light...came on...so I booked it." You say in between gasps of air.

"And your knee?" He cocked an eyebrow at you clutching onto your ripped jeans and bloodied knee.

"What do ya think? I ate shit." You groan, finally standing up straight. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Like 10-15 minutes? I told you, you should've just asked your dad to sleep over. All this could've been avoided." He shines his flashlight to your knee, illuminating the caked blood leftover on your knee and pants.

"You forget that my dad isn't your biggest fan." You shoot him a sideways glance as you begin to shrug off your backpack, lightly fanning yourself.

"True, but, he's friends with my mom, and my mom likes you so that's an automatic in. Rei would've vouch for you."

"I guess." You mutter under your breath. "Next time we'll have her call my dad and ask for me, then."

Touya slips off his own backpack and tosses it over the tall barrier, letting it softly thump onto the patch of dirt and dead leaves, following it with your own bag.

He starts his climb first, effortlessly making his way to the top and jumping straight off from there, landing into a squat. You followed suit, but of course there he was standing close by behind you to make sure you have all of your bearings and not slip.

"You got it?" He holds out his arms, anticipating your fall.

"Duh."

Once your feet hits the ground, you slip your backpack back on after dusting the remnants of dirt off.

"You have your flashlight?" He asked. "Or do you need one? I have an extra."

You whip out your flashlight from your back pocket and shine it straight onto his face, causing him to wince and block it with his hand.

"Perfect." He groan. "After we get past this tree, it's all rocky and shit, okay? So watch your step because I'm not going to carry you back if you fuck up your other knee."

You silently flip him off. After he returns the gesture, he begins to lead you two deeper into the woods, letting your flashlights guide your way. You weren't really sure where you were heading, but this morning Touya told you that he "knew a spot," so of course here you are now, walking through a forest.

"Touya, look." You whisper, clutching onto the strap of his backpack to stop him and and point your flashlight at the base of a nearby tree, revealing a frog perching on an exposed root. "It looks like you."

"And you look like the piece of dog shit next to it."

At some point, when you were you felt you had possibly walked into the danger zone of the forest and were ready to tell him that you should head back, he turns around and stops you first.

It was sudden, almost causing you to fall back.

"What the fu-" You began, about to scold him for startling you. He grabs your shoulder and holds a finger to your mouth. You press your lips together, searching his face for a sign as to what your reaction should be. Should you be panicking? Is there an animal nearby?

"Shut up and listen." He whispers, cupping his ears.

From the distance, you hear a soft murmuring of continuous running water. You mouth slightly gaped open.

"No way." You mouth, slowly growing into a wide smile. "How much farther?"

"Should just be up ahead. Let's go." He motions for you to continue following him.

After a few more minutes of trekking, the trees open up to a shallow river lined by rocks and boulders. The water was almost still from where you were standing, but from afar, you could hear it rushing down against more rocks that stood in the middle of a stream.

"This is so fucking cool." You beam, turning to him to see him holding onto a tree to take off his shoes.

You two ended up choosing a boulder to perch on, letting your feet hang into the cool water. You close your eyes and take in the hot summer night and ambiance of frogs and the chirping of crickets.

"I actually stole this spot from Natsuo, surprisingly. The nerd took his girlfriend out here to ask her out."

You gasp "Natsuo? A girlfriend?"

"I know." He laughs, keeping his gaze forward. "My little brother has a girlfriend. Hasn't even introduced her to the family yet, that fucker."

"Damn before us too. We really do have no game." You laugh at yourselves.

"Pshh, says you." He waves you off. "At least I've had my first kiss."

You jaw drops and your head snap towards him.

"What? How come you never tell me these things?" You whine. "When was this?"

"Ah, it's embarrassing." He turns his head away to avoid your gaze, obviously regretting revealing that bit of information. In the darkness only illuminated by moonlight, it was hard to tell, but you just knew his ears were turning red. "It was when I was like 8."

"Oh." You deflate. "I mean, that barely counts" You roll your eyes.

"Still counts though."

"Tell me about it then. How was it?" You couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. You were at the bright age of 17 with no experience with romance, let alone a kiss, and you were surprised to hear that your best friend since childhood was somehow one step ahead of you in this category without even trying.

He sits and thinks for a moment, lightly kicking his feet in the water. "Kinda gross. 8 year olds are inherently little grubby and unhygienic things, so imagine two of those pressing their mouths together."

"Figures." You sigh. "We're such losers."

"Who is we? Maybe you're a lovesick loser, but I'm perfectly fine." He flicks water at you, which you return with a handful of river water.

"You really haven't kissed anyone since?" You wiped your hand off on your pants.

"Nope." He popped.

"You're almost 18." You mutter. "Don't you think having a real first kiss is like, a mark of growing up? Maturity?"

"Mmm no I don't think so. That's just life, ya know? It just comes at you and I bet tons of people don't get their first kiss until well into adulthood." He shrugs. "Why do you want yours so bad?"

"Sometimes I feel so behind everyone else." You bring your feet up out of the water and hug your knees, using it as a head rest as you look over at Touya. "Everyone has an admirer, everyone has a romantic interest, everyone has kissed someone, except for me."

"You want your first kiss, then?" He mutters under his breath, looking away from you.

"Huh?" You scoot yourself closer to him, leaning into to his direction. "What did you say?"

"Do you... want your first kiss, then." He says a little bit braver this time, slightly meeting your eye from the side.

Your mouth gaped open and your hands suddenly go sweaty.

"From.. you?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

"I mean, yeah. If you want. Since you're so desperate for it" He starts playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. "Only if you want to though." He quickly adds on.

"You're fucking with me. Do you want to? I know I'm bitching and moaning about it, but you don't have to do charity work, ya know?" You nervously laugh.

"It's not charity work." He quips back "We're best friends, so... I don't know, isn't it easier to do all that with someone you know and trust? If it makes you feel better, I guess this would be my first real kiss too."

You blow out a long breath of air. "Okay... I guess you're right. Best friends.. but, I don't know what I'm doing. Do you?"

"No, I don't." He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "I just figure it's all improvising."

You turn to face him, motioning him to do the same. He takes his feet out of the water and criss cross them, scooting close enough to where your knees meet.

You flick on the flashlight and set it in your lap, letting it slightly illuminate his face. His face is bright red, but you wouldn't dare tell him. Not in this moment. Yours probably was too- you could feel the heat off of it.

"Can't we do this in the dark?" He whines, blocking the light with his hand. "It's embarrassing."

"How am I supposed to see what I'm doing?" You shoot back. "You want me to pretend like it's not you, or something?"

"No." He quietly mutters. "Your eyes are going to be closed anyways. How are you not even a bit embarrassed by this?" He rubs his pink stained cheeks.

"Because you're my best friend, and I love you, and this is all for the purpose of science." You pat his knee, comforting him all while your heart was racing and your hands were clamming up. "And this is your idea so if this blows up in our faces, it's your fault."

"Okay, fine whatever." He rolls his eyes. "For science."

"Put your hands behind your back." You instructed.

"The fuck? Why?"

"Because if you touch me, I'll panic." You pout. "Please."

"Every guy you kiss you're gonna ask them to sit on their hands?" He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up and do it, Touya, before I push you in this river."

He grumbles to himself for a second, but does as you say, interlocking his fingers behind his back.

You place both of your hands on his shoulders, leaning your faces in close. You look down at his lips, parted in anticipation. You could hear his slight heavy breathing layered over the running water in the background.

"Say stop whenever, okay? Okay. You ready?" You whisper. "Not nervous?"

He slowly nods his head, glancing down to your own lips, causing your stomach to flip. "Stop talking and just do it."

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but before you knew it, your lips were connected.

Soft. Warm. Slow. Running out of breath.

Your hands unclench his shoulders and move down to his knees, letting yourself comfortably relinquish control. Your body was on fire, and you were ready to jump up and hide after this, but you kept reminding yourself that this could be considered his first kiss too. You two were doing this together.

Suddenly, you feel his hands placed on top of your own, causing you to tense.

"Don't freak out." He breaks away for a moment to mutter against your lips, before continuing to let his hand climb up.

Right as his hand gets comfortable against the side of your neck, his phone resting in the pocket of his hoodie suddenly starts vibrating, causing you two to pull back, and snapping into realization of what you two had just done.

With wide eyes, you instantly flip off the flashlight and turn your head to avoid his gaze as you lightly pant to catch your breath.

"Fuck." He mutters, running a hand through his hair, looking at the caller-ID.

"Who is it?" You whisper-yell. "Who's calling you at this fucking hour?"

"Shut up, my mom's calling." He leans his head back and groans, rubbing his face in his hands. He hops off the boulder and began feeling around the ground for his shoes.

"Hello?" He slowly answers into the phone.

"Touya! Where are you?" You could hear Rei scold him loud enough even when she wasn't on speaker.

"Sorry, mom. I couldn't sleep so i'm just out and about." He press his phone against and cheek and shoulder as he begins putting his shoes back on, in which you follow suit.

"Is Y/N with you? Please tell me she is, because her dad called."

"FUCK!" You mouth silently to him. "Say no. He's gonna beat your ass. Say no." You whisper to him.

Touya looks at you for a moment, biting his lower lips while debating on what to say to his mom.

"Don't lie to me either. I will find out." She warns.

"Yeah she is, but we're fine." He sighs in defeat.

"Sorry." He mouths to you, reaching his hand up to ruffle your hair.

He starts to pace around, making it harder for you to hear her tucked into his ear.

"No we're just sitting."

"Yes sober....unfortunately." He lightly chuckles. "Okay, okay, sorry." he quickly follows up.

"By the river."

"Yup we have flashlights, pepper spray, and everything."

"She's fine."

"Yes I do know what time it is."

"Mom!" He exclaims, glancing your way with an embarrassed expression. "Yes! We are fully clothed. Stop it."

"We're going to head back right now."

He finally comes closer to you, making a choking motion to his own neck, causing you to giggle at his unfortunate and uncomfortable conversation with his mom.

"Touya." Rei sighs. "Bring her home safe okay? I'll talk to her dad, but we're going to have a chat about this later tomorrow."

"Can Y/N sleep over?" He shoots you a sly glance in which you return with a glare.

"Hello?"

"She hung up on me." He slides his phone into his pocket and shrugs. "Wasn't a no, though."

"Fucking idiot." You huff, gathering your things.

You two began your long trek back towards where you entered, walking side by side now. The air was thick around you two in tension and awkwardness as you waited for the other to bring it up or start a conversation to avoid it all together.

"Thoughts on your second, first kissed?" You break the silent wall and glance up at him.

"Mmmm definitely better than the first." He smirks down at you. "How was it for you? You feel okay?"

"Yeah." You mutter. "It was pretty good." You start "For the purpose of science, ya know."

"For the purpose of science." He repeats. "Any other experiments you wanna try while we're at it?"

"Touya!" You gasp and hit his arm. You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose to cover an incoming blush creeping up your neck.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs at your reaction. "Why are you so embarrassed all of the sudden now that we did it?"

"God you're annoying." You huff. "Why are you all of the sudden not? And flirting with me? Who even are you?"

"I'm just teasing." He nudges you playfully.

"Don't fall in love, now." You warn. "You wanna ruin this friendship so bad. In more ways than one." You mutter, returning the nudge.

"Yeah, whatever." He rolls his eyes, but landed his gaze back on you.

You continue the walk in silence, letting the back of your hands brush every now and then. You would blame the blush tattooed to your cheeks on the humid summer air, and avoid his gaze at all cost until he says something about it (he definitely will), and when you sneak back into his house, you'll go straight to his room where he'll bandage and clean up your knee and let you sleep in his bed while he'll sleep on the floor right beside you. He'll wait for your breathing to steady out into sleep and then he'll silently curse himself out and relive that moment with you at the river.

bonus scene:

the next day when the whole house is awake, fuyumi's sisterly senses slaps her silly.

she just KNOWS that some shit went down between you two. she's naturally so observant, so when she sees you two padding out into the living room for your morning tea with your hair messy, cheeks flushed with a shy smile on your lips, subtle glances at one another and his oversized shirt hanging on your shoulders, she just knew she has to ask one of you about your late night rendezvous.

it's not the first time she's seen you like this in the morning. you had been close to the family and her older brother's best friend for years now, but she instantly sniffed out a different aura emanating from you two.

"touya, can you help me grab something from the top of my closet?" fuyumi motions for touya to follow her to her bedroom.

"sure." he shrugs nonchalantly. "keep my tea warm." he shoots you a coy wink.

touya follows fuyumi into her room, a silence falls between then until the moment she clicks her door closed.

"before you ask, nothing happened." he rolled his eyes as if he was already anticipating her interrogation.

maybe her brother's instincts were much stronger than her's...

"liar!" fuyumi squeals. "it's all over your faces! mom was so pissed at you last night, where did you go?"

"we went by the river where nat asked out his lady." he shrugs.

"and then? i know something happened!" she presses on "tell me!"

"its nothing. just that.. we might have...kissed." he tries hiding the smile behind his arm. "crazy, right?"

she silently squeals some more, jumping and slapping her brother's arm in celebration.

she had known about her brother's crush for a while now, how could she not? they were only a couple of years apart, so it would be impossible to keep things a secret from one another.

"and what else? did you ask her out?" she looks up at him with stars in her eyes.

"one step at a time, little sis. stay tuned." he pats her head and goes back to join you and attend to his tea, which you of course, kept warm.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

[k-dokja]

Rewatching Avatar to write Zuko because I saw some Zuko and once again I need to write Zuko.

”E12, The Western Air Temple.

"How are you fitting in?"

Zuko glances up at you with a hesitant smile, relaxing slightly when he sees you entering his room. "It's... going." He seems tired, despondent even. You're not surprised to see him in such a state after the way your friends had received him earlier.

"Sound optimistic," you sit down next to him with a genuine smile on your lips, settling comfortably on his bed. "I can imagine why they didn't take well to you."

He forces an awkward laugh, "I know, I know," he sighs, "I'm surprised you didn't chase me away, too, seeing how..."

You shrug with genuine nonchalance, "I can afford the brevity because I have seen you in your better days more often than your worst ones," you lower your voice to a whisper. "Besides, Aang needs a firebending teacher and you're our best choice."

"Oh," he breathes out, turning away, "that's very... pragmatic of you."

You'd be obtuse to not notice the disappointment in his voice when he says that. "Either way, it's nice to see you again," you say, attempting to lighten up the mood, "you know, as you, not as Lee or the Crown Prince, just... Zuko."

"Just Zuko," he echoes your words with a tentative nod, "that sounds... nice."

"It's better than nice," you nudge at his side, "now that, my friend Zuko is here with us, we'll be unstoppable."

At your words, Zuko can't help but smirk slightly, "I'm lucky to have a friend who holds me in such high esteem," he says solemnly, "I can only hope I'll live up to your expectations."

"Hey," you shrug, "there's no expectation, as long as you're able to help Aang train, I'll be happy."

Zuko opens his mouth as if wanted to say something, but he swallows and nods at the last second. "I'll try my best," he lets out a shaky breath, "if nothing else, I at least have that going for me."

"I've seen you bend," you think back to your brief encounters with him, "not extensively but... I think you'll manage, and if nothing else, at least, there'll be a start."

"Pragmatism and optimism," Zuko says, slightly amused, "you really have the best of both worlds."

You beam, "Wait until you see what else I have to offer."

It is meant as a jest, but by the time you become conscious of how it comes across, your eyes have been entranced by his. The gold of his eyes warmed into a honey shade, and briefly, you glance downwards.

"Yeah, can't wait," he replies and the breathy quality of his words makes you realise the error of your misstep.

"Uh, anyway," you stand up abruptly, "it was nice catching up with you, I guess we'll see you around more often, huh?"

You try to not look at him as you recover from your fluster, but the slight crack of awkwardness in his voice is clear to your ears. "Yeah, of course," he says, clearing his throat, "I'll see you around."

"Night, Zuko," you turn back to offer him a comforting smile, but it is as forced as anything you see on his face.

He nods at you, but his gaze remains transfixed on the floor. As you dash out of his room, You try to not dwell on that or the hint of blush on his ears.

Better to not think about the line you almost crossed when he had barely managed to get into the good graces of your friends.

[yumeka-sxf]

New chapter today, and even though most of it seemed to continue the silly tone from the previous one, the last few pages actually shocked me! 👀

For the first time, ANYA CONFESSED TO SOMEONE THAT SHE CAN READ MINDS! Now this doesn't necessarily mean anything crazy will happen in the series from now on, since Damian doesn't believe her (at first). But proving that you can read minds is easy to do, so the question now becomes, will Anya keep trying to prove it to Damian until he believes her? Or will she regret it later and not try to prove it, and then the plot point isn't touched on again? Regardless, this chapter definitely makes it seem like Damian will be the first person to know about her mind-reading powers.

Then there's the question of why Anya chose to confess this to Damian? I think it's a combination of a few reasons, the main one being that Damian doesn't have any connection to her family, so little risk of him telling them and thus bringing about the fear of abandonment Anya has should they find out. This might also be why she chose to tell him over Becky, since Becky already has somewhat of a relationship with Loid and Yor. The other reason could be that, as time has gone on, she's learned to trust him, at least when it comes to something like this. As hostile as he is towards her, she knows that he's not a double-crosser or a blabbermouth, and deep down he wants to do what's right. And lastly, it was the heat of a moment - her knowledge about him seemed weird so he questioned it, and perhaps at that highlighted moment, when Damian was being genuinely nice to her (since she can read minds, she knows if he's being genuine or not), she wanted to try not lying for once, just to see what happens.

Guess we'll have to wait until next time to see if anything ground-breaking comes from this...will Anya keep pursuing this, will she regret it and let Damian continue to not believe her, or will it just not be mentioned again until later? This reminded me a bit of the Mole Hunt arc where Yuri became suspicious of Loid, but the latter was able to throw him off the track. But the seed of suspicious was planted nonetheless. In this case, even if Damian continues to think Anya was lying, a seed of suspicion may have been planted in him too that could come into play much later on. We'll see!

But besides this big event, a few other notable things in this chapter was super rare soft Damian from the above page. This continues to prove what I've always thought - that Damian acts the way he does to appear "proper" in front of his peers, but when he's alone with Anya, his real feelings seep out. She's a rare person where he doesn't feel the need to put on airs around.

We also got more Henderson x Martha crumbs. Love to see it.

Also loved to see Anya getting cocky and Loid freaking out about it 😅

Overall, even though I'm not as into Damianya as I am Twiyor, I still enjoy seeing their progress, and this chapter was definitely one of the most Damianya-chapters of all~ Despite some of the "dance with Damian" challenges being a bit too silly for my taste (like, how did Emile and Ewen organize all that last minute?) the payoff at the end was worth it! Loid and Yor better get themselves together or their daughter will end up beating them in the romance department 😂

[mochinek0]

Daminette December: 1-Fae

Sorry about the late start. As I explained before, I wasn't sure if I reread my own work too much or it was inspired and I didn't save anything. I tried looking for the fic here and on Ao3 and between work and errands, I couldn't find it.....so I gave up. I deleted the other one and started over. I didn't want to post anything until the the first one was redone. All the others should be coming out soon and on schedule.

Mar'i Grayson had a fascination with her Uncle Damian's girlfriend, Marinette. From the first time she saw her; she loved her. Damian had immediatley been called her 'Favorite Uncle'. He wore the title proudly, even though he had no clue as to why he had suddenly become the favorite. All he knew was it pissed of his older brothers.

"You brought the fairy!" Mar'i shouted, spotting Marinette at Wayne Manor.

It never failed to make Marinette giggle. Mar'i grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the sitting room. She quickly brought out her coloring books and asked her to color and draw with her. Damian sighed, as yet another date had gone wrong. He had wanted to show her his latest painting.

'Seems it will have to wait, yet again.'

"If you don't mind me asking," Dick started, "why is it funny when my daughter calls you fairy?'

"Oh, I don't think of it as an insult or anything." Marinette quickly expressed, "I find it funny because she and my Nona must know something I don’t. My Nona calls me her 'Little Fairy'."

"Mar'i, believe she is a fairy. Why" Starfire asked her daughter.

Little Mar'i smiled, "Uncle Damian brought her to life!"

'Huh?'

'What?'

'Brought me/her to life?'

The Waynes looked to Damian, who seemed just as confused by that statement.

"I swear if you guys did something and she saw!" Dick growled out.

Marinette turned bright red and squeaked out, "We've only kissed."

"True loves kiss!" Mar'i exclaimed.

Dick and the other looked at the couple, wondering how far that kiss went. Marinette hid in her hand and Damian wasn't fairing that much better. He was disappointed in his lack of planning. He was out of smoke bombs that would help them disappear from the moment, altogether.

Realizing the adults were still confused and getting upset, she ran out of the room.

"Be right back!" she cried out.

When she returned, the half-Tamaranean proudly showed a game box to them.

She shoved it in Marinette's face shouting, "It's you!"

Marinette leaned back and saw the game was titled 'Faefarm'. On the cover as a fae with side swept bangs and pigtails dressed in purple. She could easily see why the five year old thought it was her. She had moved away from her pink capri and switched more to a purple once she moved to Gotham. Bruce had warned her about standing out.

Damian smirked, "I guess I did find a Fae."

The Wayne family began to laugh.

"Don't worry, Marinette." Dick chuckled, "We'll keep your secret."

"Can I see your wings?" Mar'i asked, before flying around the room.

The room froze, waiting Damian's girlfriend's response. They hadn't told her about their nightlife and about Mar'i being half-Tamaranean.

"Sure." Marinette smiled.

'Huh?'

"Let's go outside, though." Marinette continued.

Confused, they followed the girls outside. Once outside, Marinette turned and faced them. They glanced at Damian and he didn't seem worried or concerned. If anything it seemed like he knew what was going to happen.

'What is she thinking?'

'Mar'i will notice if Jon or Star lift her up.'

They watched as she took a small purple macaron and threw it up in the air.

'What?'

"Astro Tikki, Spots On!" She shouted.

They closed their eyes to the bright red glow. When they opened them, they saw Ladybug with blue wings and a face mask. Marinette jumped up and hovered in the air.

"Let's go." Ladybug smiled, holding out her hand to little Mar'i.

Mar'i grabbed her hand and they flew up into the sky. Starfire flew up with them, leaving the Wayne boys confused. After shaking off their confusion, they turned to the youngest for answers.

"How?" Jason questioned.

Damian shrugged, "She figured us all out in a week after we met."

"How?" pressed Tim.

It had taken him months to figure out that Dick was Robin. He had chased them getting any picture he could and piecing the clues together. How had Marinette done it in a week?

"She designs for a living." Damian stated, like it should have given them all the answers, "Why do you think your clothes always fit so well?'

"Alfred could have told her!" Dick shouted.

"When was the last time you were measured by Alfred?" the youngest pushed back.

The boys tried to remember, but found they couldn't. Alfred knowing their measurements was a mystery as old as time. He always knew everything.

"Marinette has been our designer for three years now and she hasn't measured any of us, since her first day." Damian explained.

"Damn." Jason whispered.

"Uh, so, will we see her on patrol more often?" Dick questioned.

"Was she keeping out of sight all this time and you knew?" Tim asked.

"She doesn't suit up unless there is an emergency; there has been none. She prefers to work on her business." Damian declared, "She will make me extra food, if I choose to go to her place after patrol."

Before they could ask more questions, the girls touched down.

"Spots off." Marinette whispered.

"That was fun!" Mar'i shouted, "Let's do it again!"

"Agreed." Starfire expressed, happily, "I rarely take her into space."

"Space?" Dick exclaimed.

"What did you think 'Astro' stood for?" Marinette asked, "We'll ask next time, if you prefer. Besides I would have to make another power up to do so."

Jason and Tim snickered. Damian walked up and put his arm around her waist.

"I believe it is time to take you home. I'm sure they will have trouble putting her down to sleep now." he spoke.

"Oops." Marinette whispered back, ashamed.

"What ingredients should we grab at the store on the way home?" the youngest asked, leading her to his car.

"Oh, there was this fusion recipe I have been meaning to try." she spoke, as he led her away, "It's a vegetarian red curry and dumpling soup."

"Curry and dumplings?" he questioned.

"It has your heritage and mine." she answered, blushing.

Damian seemed to grasp the idea and smiled, "It sounds lovely. We can try it together."

Marinette smiled brightly at her boyfriend as he opened the car door. Marinette got in and waved as he closed the door. Damian entered the driver's side and they left.

"Man, he really did find a Fae." Jason expressed, "She has him whipped."

"Fae don't-" Tim began.

"In the old stories, knowing ones name held power. The Fae had certain influence over people. hey could manipulate their fate or actions. It was like selling your soul." he explained.

"Well I think she's can keep him." Tim stated.

"Miss Marinette seems to be changing Master Damian for the better." Alfred announced, suddenly, throwing them off guard.

"Me too!" Smiled Mar'i.

"Miss Marinette left treats inside for dinner." Alfred spoke, getting his great-granddaughter's hand and leading her in, "She spoke of a special package for Mrs. and Miss Grayson. Something containing mustard."

"Yay!" they cried as they rushed in.

"Looks like she has power over all of us." Jason whispered.

Dick gasped, suddenly.

"What?" Tim questioned.

"She's the next Alfred." he explained.

The boys froze before lowering their heads.

'We're doomed.'

@maribat-calendar-events

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You Fidget A Lot

PAIRING: Skz X GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

In the crowded room of a bustling party, you find yourself feeling completely overwhelmed. You'd agreed to come to the party with your boyfriend who knew everyone and you were now alone in the corner. You felt so unwanted and you began to pick at your fingers, trying to blend into the background but the room felt so suffocating to be in. The noise of the music was deafening and only added to the torment going on in your mind.

From across the room, Chan spotted you in distress instantly, he'd been trying to get back to you for a while now but his friends were talking his ear off but seeing you so anxious he just walked away from them.

"Hey, you're okay, I got you," Chan whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, your whole body turning into his embrace and buried your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," You hated yourself for ruining tonight for him

"Don't be, let's go outside for some air," He suggested as he started to walk with you, tears running down your cheek as he rubbed small circles into your back.

Once you were outside and away from the chaos of the party you finally felt as though you could breathe again.

"You can go back in...I'll catch a cab home or something," You mumbled but Chan pulled you tighter against him, rubbing soothing circles into your back,

"We'll go home together, you're anxious and I want to be here for you," He told you as he kept you close to him. The overwhelming anxiety began to ebb away and was replaced by a feeling of calm and security.

MINHO:

"Hey jitterbug," Minho teased watched you, the two of you were having a date in a cafe only you hadn't known it was going to be this busy when you agreed to come. Now you were so anxious that you were drumming your fingers on the table as well as your leg bouncing.

"What's got you so wound up?" He teased, reaching across to poke your hand gently, you smiled a little at him.

"Just anxious I guess," You mumbled. You hadn't gone into much detail with Minho about your anxiety, you were nervous about it since many people had called you dramatic in the past or had made fun of you for it.

"Relax, it's just some coffee. Nothing to be nervous about, I promise." He said but as he studied you more closely he began to notice the tension in your shoulders and the way you picked at your sleeve, the teasing grin he had once been wearing suddenly wiped from his face.

"Are you okay?" His voice was softer now and laced with genuine worry.

"I'm trying to be, but...I-It's just-" You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Minho was sitting beside you and wrapping his arm around you.

"I'm sorry...I didn't realise," He knew anxiety when he saw it, his best friend struggled with it too.

"You don't have to hide it from me. I'm here for you, no matter what." Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at him, no one had ever been there for you like this and you were so grateful to have someone who accepted it.

"Thanks, I'm sorry I'm so fidgety, I just...I can't seem to calm myself down." You admitted, Minho squeezed you softly giving you a reassuring smile.

"Then allow me to help, okay?" You nodded at him, watching as he began to take in some deep breaths, making you copy him.

"It's just me and you right now, and if anyone else comes along I'll fight," He winks at you and you giggle a little through your deep breathing.

"You're allowed to feel anxious, so long as you know I'm here to support you through it, okay?" He waited for you to nod before he continued breathing with you, getting you to focus on him or things outside of the window instead of what was happening in the cafe. 

The longer you sat there you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders as you relaxed into Minhos' embrace, knowing that with him by your side you could do anything.

CHANGBIN:

Your fingers twisted in your lap as you glanced around nervously, staring at all of the different passengers on the plane who didn't seem fazed by the turbulence the plane was experiencing.

"Yn," Changbin whispered, his hand reaching out to yours. You forced a tight smile onto your lips as you focused on looking out of the window. You hadn't mentioned it to him before but you were extremely nervous about planes. But they set off your anxiety more than anything else.

"We're okay. It's just a bit of wind," He promised as he turned your head to look at him, squeezing your hand reassuringly and offering you a comforting smile.

"It's alright to be anxious but as long as you know you're not alone in it." He smiled bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm right here beside you." He told you as he smiled, Changbin was your little glimmer of hope that everything was okay. You always thought that with him you could do anything. 

"You're doing great, just focus on your breathing and remember I'm here with you," He whispered in your ear, your eyes shutting as you tried to focus on breathing and the way his hand felt in yours.

As the flight continued Changbin never left your side, offering you constant comfort and support, even distracting you with stories and jokes, doing everything in his power to ease your anxiety just that little bit more until the plane finally touched down. 

"I couldn't have done that without you," You breathed out as you finally got into the airport, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he promised to do that for you whenever you needed it.

HYUNJIN:

You were sat in one of the fanciest restaurants you'd ever been in, at an elegant dinner table with Hyunjin's parents and you couldn't stop your leg from bouncing up and down, a clear sign that your anxiety was getting the better of you. Hyunjin waited until his parents were talking among themselves before he turned his full attention to you, he placed his hand on your knee giving it a small squeeze.

"Is this all too much?" He whispered, he knew you'd been anxious about the dinner but you promised him you'd be okay. Now all he wanted to do was take you home and comfort you all night.

"I'm sorry...I-I just- I feel anxious," You admitted, your stomach twisted as you looked at him. Without hesitating he leaned closer to you, holding your hands in his.

"You're doing great, okay? Just take some deep breaths with me," You nodded, your shoulders sagging a little with relief from his words. You took in some deep and steady breaths at the same time as Hyunjin and he smiled gently applying a steady pressure to your leg to calm your nerves. Hyunjin's parents glanced over at you both,

"Yn, Hyunjin, we're both so happy you're here. Let's relax and enjoy the evening." His mother suggested, Hyunjin had briefly mentioned your anxiety to her and they wanted you to have a nice evening.

Hyunjin's attention was still on you as he whispered words of encouragement, silently letting you know he was there for you now and always. 

As the night grew on, your fidgeting gradually subsided, replaced with a sense of calm and happiness as you got to know your boyfriend's family more.

JISUNG:

Jisung watched you as you nervously tapped your foot on the floor, bounced your leg up and down and even started to pick at your clothes. The two of you were sitting in your living room together trying to unwind from the day but he could clearly see your anxiety was playing up.

"You anxiety acting up, again?" He asked gently, reaching out and gently rubbing your back. You nodded, your eyes downcast as you bit on your lip.

"It's been a rough day and I can't seem to calm down." You admitted before Jisung gently squeezed your shoulder got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a bag.

"I am prepared this time," He smirked, a hint of excitement in his voice as he dropped down beside you on the bed. You took the bag he was holding out to you and peeked inside, your mouth turning up into a small smile.

"You did this?" You smiled looking at him before looking back into the bag. It was an assortment of fidget toys, stress balls, a spinner ring, a textured cube and so many more things,

"I figured they'd be better to fidget with," He smiled seeing you so happy about everything, he'd been looking online for the best toys and collected them all for you.

"Thank you," You sniffled a little, taking out one of the stress balls and squeezing it tightly in your hand,

"You always know how to take care of me," Your voice broke a little and Jisung pulled you into a gentle hug,

"I love you, and I'll do anything I can to support you." He smiled as the two of you sat there in the comfort of your living room while you explored all of your new fidget toys.

FELIX:

Felix poured you a cup of tea and then watched you closely. The two of you were at your favourite cafe together and it had been a while since the two of you had gone out which was why Felix had planned this. But he knew there was something bothering you, you'd been overly cautious of everything that morning and even now, your eyes were darting around the room as if you were looking for an escape and he instantly knew what was going on. You were nervously picking at the skin around your fingers, your brows furrowed together,

"Yn, you're okay," He whispered. Your fingers froze mid-motion and you forced a smile onto your face,

"I-I'm fine, just a little anxious." You admitted, Felix shuffled to be on the seat beside you, gently covering your hand with his own.

"You don't have to hide it from me, Yn. I know you're struggling but I'm right here," He whispered to you, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at him. Everyone in the past has merely teased you for fidgeting a lot or made rude comments about it.

"I-It's just, my anxiety...it gets the better of me sometimes and I can't stop picking at my fingers," Felix's heart ached at the sight of your distress, he knew your struggles and all he wanted to do was help you.

"We're in this together, we're okay." He promised you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

"We're at our favourite place, drinking our favourite drinks and relaxing." He smiled at you, your head resting on his shoulder as you felt your heart rate slowing down. Felix took in some deep breaths with you and you slowly felt the tightness in your chest gradually loosen.

"Thanks, Lix," You whispered, but he shook his head at you, he didn't need you to thank him for doing something he wanted to do.

"I love you, Yn, and I'll always be here to hold your hand, no matter what." He told you before you kissed him softly.

SEUNGMIN:

This was supposed to be a casual night in with friends and yet you found yourself fidgeting beside your boyfriend, your fingers drumming nervously on your thigh and then adjusting the sleeves of your sweating.

"You can't ever sit still, can you?" Felix meant it as a joke but the way his tone came out it sounded as though he was annoyed at you. Seungmin's eyes dated to his friend as he felt a surge of anger rising in him. He took in a deep breath trying to keep his composure, shooting Felix a warning glare.

"It's okay," Seungmin whispers to you as he places his hand over yours carefully and rubs your skin softly.

"You're safe here and Felix was just teasing, you know how he is." He whispered to you, Felix's face flushed a little as he realised what was happening and he instantly wanted to kick himself.

"Yn, I'm so sorry."

"It's not as if Felix doesn't have weird habits," Chan chimed in with a smirk,

"We all have our quirks, nothing wrong with that." Seungmin finished as he wrapped his arm around you, cuddling into you tightly.

"I've got you," He reassured you, your shoulders relaxing a little as you felt a little of your anxiety lift ever so slightly. For the rest of the evening, Seungmin kept a close eye on you, watching for any signs of fidgeting so he could take you home if it got too bad.

JEONGIN:

Jeongin watched you closely, you were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisted the fabric in small, nervous movements. The two of you had gone out for a small walk together and were taking a break on the park bench. 

"Hey, baby, is everything alright?" His voice was laced with concern as he stared at you. You looked at him, your eyes quickly darting around before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled a little but he knew it wasn't a real smile.

"Fine...Just feeling a little anxious I guess," You hated that you were feeling so anxious, you'd gone on this walk a million times with Jeongin but there was something about today that made you a little more anxious than usual.

Jeongin nodded, moving closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he knew about your struggle with anxiety and he wasn't going to let you go through this alone.

"You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever Is bothering you, I'm here for you." You leaned into his embrace, your hands stilling as you relaxed against him.

"Everything feels overwhelming right now, I can't even keep up with my own thoughts," You mumbled, and Jeongin tightened his grasp around you.

"I get it. But remember, you don't have to face it alone. I'm here to help you carry the weight, even if it's just by listening to you." You smiled up at him, a small sigh leaving your lips as you relaxed against him. 

"I don't know what I'd do without you." You snuggled into him and with each passing moment your breathing steadied and your anxiety loosened its grip on you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @parkjennykim

[notsosweetchan]

Warning: Smut (Minors Do Not Interact )

Paring - Minho x Reader -

- Ink and Affection -

Getting tattooed by her hot tattoo artist Minho, Y/N m was starting to feel a little lightheaded from the pain and his sexy voice.,"You're doing so well," Minho cooed, his voice sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "Just a little longer, and we'll have this masterpiece finished.“ His tattoo gun buzzed gently, the vibrations against her skin both calming and invigorating at the same time.

The stinging of the needle had dulled into a tolerable throb, replaced by a kind of intoxicating endorphin high. The tattoo parlor around them seemed to melt away as they worked, leaving only the two of them in their own private world.

Minho's strong hands guided the machine with practiced precision, his every movement deliberate yet artful. He was lost in his craft, the epitome of focused intensity.

Y/N couldn't help but admire the way his biceps flexed under his sleeves as he moved, or how his forearm tattoos danced along with each stroke. "Almost done," he muttered to himself more than to Y/N, the tension in the air practically palpable.

"I just need to add a few more finishing touches." As the last few lines etched themselves into her skin, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, less from the pain and more from the anticipation of what was to come. The tattoo gun hummed its final vibration before Minho put it down and stepped back to admire his work.

In the mirror, Y/N caught a glimpse of their reflection, marveling at the intricate design that now adorned her body. A delicate lotus flower blossomed from her collarbone, its petals extending across her shoulder blade in a sea of vibrant purples and pinks.

It was breathtaking. "Oh my god," she breathed, awe and disbelief mingling in her voice. "Minho, it's... it's perfect." He smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm glad you like it." Their faces were so close now, their breath mingling in the space between them. Y/N could smell the faint scent of ink and aftershave on him, intoxicating and heady.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage as their eyes locked in a heated stare. It was the purest of seconds, suspended in time. She swore she could feel the electricity arcing between them, a live wire waiting to be touched. The tension was so thick, Y/N could practically taste it on her tongue.

But just as she was about to close the distance between them, Minho cleared his throat, stepping back and pretending nothing had ever happened. "Well, let's get this wrapped up and you can take a look at it properly," he said briskly, his professional demeanor returning as if by magic. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment but nodded mutely, trying desperately to hide the flush that crept up her cheeks.

Y/N has coming to his shop for the last3 months now getting 6 tattoos done by him, all for the chance to get closer to him. The most he had ever done was touch her hand once when she was wincing in pain. Maybe she was just seeing things that weren't there. “Hmm?” He looked up, a questioning eyebrow raised.

“Do you tattoo a lot of girls in here? The moment Y/N said it, she regretted it. “Why do you ask?He asked, a half-smirk playing on his lips. “No reason,” Y/N mumbled, the edge of the chair burning against her chest “I’m just curious I guess.”Minho chuckled lightly as he tied off the last of the bandage. “Y/N, I tattoo A lot of girls but none of the are as pretty as you.” heat crept into her cheeks as she looked away.

"You can't handle the truth, huh?" He sneers, leaning closer to her. She can see the tattoos on his arms and feels a shiver run down her spine. Just moments ago, he was giving her that same piercing look. Now, he's leaning over her, his arms resting on the cold armrests of the chair, his hand gently cupping her cheek. his hand and tilted her face to look at him. “I... I, I” she couldn’t get a word out, her heart hammering in her ears.

“ It’s okay Y/N, I’m into you too.” He whispered before closing the few inches between them and kissed her. Y/N's world swirled as Minho's lips met hers, soft yet insistent. His hands found their way into her hair, cradling her headas the kiss deepened. Her senses flooded with his scent, his touch, and the thrumming energy between them.

For a moment, all she could think about was him, the pain of the tattoo forgotten in the face of this newfound pleasure. Breaking away for air, Minho trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, before whispering in her ear, "I've been wanting to do that for months." A shiver ran down Y/N's spine at his admission, and she couldn't help but smile.

"You could have just said something earlier," she managed to joke, her voice breathless. Minho chuckled, his lips ghosting along her jawline. "I like the chase," he teased. His hands found their way under her shirt, tracing the lines of the new tattoo with feather-light touches that made Y/N shiver anew.

As they remained entangled on the tattoo table, all thoughts of propriety and workplace ethics flew out the window. In this stolen moment, all that mattered was the two of them and the undeniable attraction that had been simmering between them for so long. Their movements became more urgent, fueled by months of pent-up longing and suppressed desire.

Minho caressed every inch of newly inked skin, as if committing each line and curve to memory. Y/N arched into his touch, moaning softly as he hit all the right spots. "I want you, Y/N," he breathed against her ear, his voice rough with need. "Tell me I'm not the only one thinking this is a good idea."

"God, yes," she managed to gasp, wrapping her trembling legs around his waist. "I've wanted you since the moment I walked into this damn shop.

"With that as permission, Minho wasted no time in standing her up and hiking her up on the counter, mindful of her fresh tattoo. He quickly unbuttoned her pants, revealing lacy panties that were already soaked through.

"Damn," he voice hoarsely, "You're soaked for me?" Y/N blushed in embarrassment but didn't deny it. She bit her lip as he slid her panties down her thighs and tossed them onto the floor. Minho's heated gaze raked over every inch of her exposed skin, as if he couldn’t believe she was really here with him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said reverently, before dipping his head to kiss her mound through her folds.

His tongue swirled around her entrance, licking her sensitive folds and teasingly circling her clit. Y/N moaned loudly, gripping the counter for support as wave after wave of pleasure courged throught her body.

Minho looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face, "I'm just getting started," he murmured before sucking on her clit hard enough to make Y/N's toes curl. Minho's skilled tongue and fingers were driving Y/N wild, each touch and suck sending her body into a tailspin of bliss. Her nails dug into the counter as she arched her back, lost in the overwhelming sensations he was evoking in her. She knew she wouldn't last much longer.

"Minho, I... I'm," she panted, unable to finish her sentence as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. He moaned her name as he continued his ministrations, driving her higher and higher until she came apart in his mouth, her entire body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

As she came down from her high, Minho stood up, wiping his face on his forearm. "My turn" she said, pushing him down on the chair and straddling his lap. She unzipped his jeans, his hard shaft springing out, already aching for her .

With a mischievous grin, she licked her lips and took him into her mouth, running her tongue around the head and shaft, savoring his salty musky scent. Minho groaned, his hands finding a way to her hair , guiding her but not forcing. He tasted different than she thought he would; better and addictive. In no time at all, she had him on the edge and he was moaning her name like a prayer.

"Y/N" he gasped out, "I'm close," he warned her, but Y/N was relentless, wanting to see how far she could push him. But he pulled her off him just in time, “bend over the table ”, he said between labored breaths.

Y/N complied, her back arched invitingly, her soaking wet pussy on display for him. Minho position himself behind her, lining up his hard erection with her entrance and with one swift thrust, he was inside of her, filling her to the hilt. With every push and pull of their hips, the tattoo table groaned under their weight.

Minho's hot body slid in and out of Y/N's, driving her crazy with desire. He grabbed her hips, guiding their rhythm as they moved together in a frenzied pace. Their moans echoed through the otherwise quiet tattoo parlor, filling the emptiness as they basked in their newfound passion. Y/N felt him hit her cervix, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body, and she mewled loudly.

"Minho," she moaned his name out, unable to form complete words. His hands found her breast, massaging and pinching the skin gently as he continued his assault on her body. She could feel his fingers tracing the intricate design on her back, following the curves and lines of the lotus flower perfectly.

The pressure added another layer to their intense connection. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his hips speeding up even more as he felt her walls clench around him. Y/N's hair flew around them, tickling their faces as they lost themselves in the moment. Their kisses were desperate and hungry, filled with need and longing.

His lips trailed down her neck again, sucking at the sensitive skin there before returning to her earlobe where he nipped and nibbled gently. Her body shuddered under him as she neared her second orgasm of the session.

"Please," she managed to whisper between breaths, unable to ask for more than that simple plea. Minho pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in with force, hitting that spot inside her that sent her spiraling over the edge once again; a scream tore through her lips as she came undone around him, her nails digging into the leather upholstery.

“That’s it baby ”, he panted, his voice laced with strain, “come for me ”. Minho didn't last much longer either, with one final thrust, he followed her over the edge, his hot seed filling her as he groaned out her name. They both collapsed on the table, panting and spent.

Neither of them moved for a moment, trying to catch their breaths and process what just happened. Y/N was the first to speak up "so, umm... not your usual tattoo session?" she joked nervously, breaking the silence. Minho chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair, "I'll say" he smirked back at her.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

We Are and the evolution of Thai BL tropes

The QL discord started a rewatch of My Engineer a few weeks ago, and damn, has it been an interesting experience. At the time I originally watched My Engineer, there was little that stuck out to me, because so much of what happened felt so incredibly common in a lot of the (admittedly rather limited) number of BLs being produced. It felt like pretty standard fare.

But going back and watching it in juxtaposition with We Are airing has been so fascinating. This genre has been evolving, y'all.

As much as we all joke about always getting more university BLs, there is something to be said for a format that can be used as something of a metric for the genre. And though there's only four years between My Engineer and We Are, seeing them both at once gives me such an incredible appreciation for the direction the genre is going in, the impact of having more queer voices involved in the creation of QLs, and how there's a lot of good we can find in seemingly simple spaces.

Obligatory disclaimer: This is just my perspective and subjective interpretation of what I have seen as a BL viewer of some time; also I don't have time to go in and do a university deep dive, so this isn't a real analysis, but more of a brief writeup of observations.

Trends are not black and white, of course, there is a spectrum. I'm sure we'll suffer through more Dinosaur Loves. At the same time, having such predominant production companies as GMMTV putting effort into hiring queer creatives and subverting old cliche tropes is an encouraging thing. (Especially as they were the creators of the original university trendsetting BL with Sotus).

Note: For newer QL viewers, I highly recommend @absolutebl for brushing up on trope history. For university BLs in particular, this post and this post are great starting primers.

Let's talk tropes!

Ok, one more note - some tropes are being what I would consider subverted, some more adapted to a newer framework, and some just played with - I'm going to talk about how they appear to me, but I'm not going to be super pedantic over it, because this is just for fun.

Trope: Bullying/hazing behavior

This did not age well in My Engineer, and I would guess hasn't aged well in a number of BLs (and other media, because the whole "he's mean to you because he likes you" bullshit has been around forever). Not just because the behavior was shitty, but because it was played off in the script as cute, and implied that it was completely justified for the seme to do whatever he wanted in his pursuit of his uke.

(There was also quite a strong tone of internalized homophobia, with the lead feeling more comfortable in expressing his interest through harassment than honest emotion, but the show never actually engaged with that in any meaningful way.)

We Are sets up a very traditional enemies to lovers/bullying start to the story, with Phum taking advantage of Peem's economic situation to make him his "slave".

And yet... there's some important elements here that make this more than the standard use of the trope.

Phum keeps it pretty light in his bullying behavior, and clearly is using it more to keep Peem around as company, versus the kind of bullying in My Engineer, where Duen is literally hit by a car, and yet still expected to keep jumping to Bohn's whims.

As soon as Phum realizes he really upset Peem by leaving him waiting at the mall, he genuinely feels awful about it. It's clear that his intent is not to cause harm, and that he has a conscience. He wrestles with his feelings on it quite a bit, and it ends up being the thing that gets Phum to finally express an honest emotion with Peem.

And most importantly, the script does not let him off the hook. His behavior is bad, and is identified as such by the writing. Peem pushes back and is shown to be right to do so, Beer openly says he disapproves.

So instead of a cliche story beat that's used just to start the action, or a seme who's allowed to do whatever he wants because "passion" (blech), we're seeing it used for characterization, giving us important beats about who both Phum and Peem are in how they engage with each other through the use of the trope.

Trope: Obsessive/jealous behavior

Oh, this one was painful in My Engineer. Duen couldn't even talk to another human being without Bohn getting jealous and angry and dragging him away.

Phum gets jealous, particularly around Kluen, but what makes it feel so subversive here are two key things.

Phum's jealousy has a purpose here, it's not just for drama's sake. It's not the cliche seme doing whatever he wants and being treated as justified. It's deliberately being used to explore his insecurities, and give him a challenge to overcome. Phum doesn't stomp over and drag Peem away, he retreats, he hides. When his jealousy causes him to lash out at Peem, he is immediately aware he fucked up.

And again, the script is making it clear that this behavior is not ok. Peem chides Phum when he acts unkind to Kluen, and Beer makes it clear that the solution is not petty behavior, but actually figuring out a way to communicate his feelings with Peem before he misses his chance. This is portrayed as a barrier for Phum to overcome in order to be with Peem, not an expected part of a romantic relationship.

Trope: Friendship group

There are not enough words to express how much I love the friendship group in We Are. To be fair, this is one of the better historical tropes. We've gotten a lot of amazing friend groups, even in mediocre BLs.

But it's still different in We Are, for one simple reason. In most university BLs, the friend group is a supporting structure. But here?

The story lines may be about the romance, but the point of We Are is the friendship.

I will die on this hill, y'all.

I don't have enough time to go into it fully here, but this show is a love letter to friends. It's a tribute to finding the people who see the real you and have your back unconditionally. Who cheer your successes and commiserate over your defeats, who pick you up when the world knocks you down, who call you out when you make mistakes, and push you to be better.

And romance is lovely, but all of these budding relationships are about being friends first, and then lovers, because that friendship is just as important as everything else, if not more.

Trope: Pink milk

Lol, ok, kinda kidding, kinda not. I know we all got mad over the drink wastage, but also check out these visuals - it's about diversity baby!!

TanFang speed round

My two little trope-busting bebes. These two are already so beautifully non-traditional in their composition, but I love how frequently they are used to make fun of and play with tropes just on their own.

Introduced as pining crush/friend's older brother pair, but actually secret enemies to lovers.

Grumpy/sunshine pairing, where the sunshine used to be a fighter, and grumpy smiles when he thinks no one is watching.

Wound-tending where they keep poking each other instead of acting soft.

Openly mocking the jealous boyfriend trope.

Setting up the possessive trope when Tan doesn't pick up Fang's calls, only to immediately have Fang question if he's being unreasonable.

Setting up their own cute eating scene for kicks.

"First time" sex scene making it clear this is anything but their first time.

Tan holding Fang down in the cliche possessive pose, only for Fang to take the agency of kissing Tan. (And overall saying eff off at the cliche top/bottom roles old BLs were such a fan of).

In Summary

I'm sure there are more tropes that will come to me, and we do still have 5 episodes left of We Are, so there are some potential trope uses that I am keeping an eye on. This is by no means an all-inclusive list.

But I wanted to write this, because I was genuinely shocked to realize how different my My Engineer watching experience was this time compared to my first time. How over the last few years I'd come to expect more thoughtfulness in my QL media, even in the ones that seem shallow on the surface.

Considering how fast and furious the QLs are coming these days, it's easy to forget how recent it was that we were much more starved of content. And I think sometimes we forget to take in the big picture, of how far we've come in just a few years.

Critique is always going to be important, of course, it's part of what helps us make progress. At the same time, it doesn't hurt to take a moment to look around and see some good in where we are.

@sailorbryant thanks for the push to get this written! Feel free to add thoughts!

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Goin on a holiday together during the summer break for Toto Wolff with wife reader fit their son, Jack. Thanks!! :))

Summer break has finally arrived, and this year, your family chose the beautiful island of Menorca for a much-anticipated beach trip. You had been craving the salty air and the gentle waves for a while, and when you suggested it, Jack was on board immediately. Toto, ever supportive and loving, would agree to go anywhere if it made you happy. That's how you found yourself on a luxurious yacht, gently rocking in the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

You couldn't ask for anything better. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of your cozy cabin, casting a warm glow over the room. The soothing sounds of the ocean were a perfect backdrop to your perfect morning. Toto's strong arm was draped around you, holding you close.

"Good morning, liebling," Toto's raspy morning voice whispered as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"Morning, love," you replied, snuggling closer. "Do you want to get ready or stay like this a little longer?"

"I wish I could stay like this forever, with you in my arms," Toto murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck, making you smile. Just as his kisses became more insistent, you were interrupted by excited shouts from the other side of the door.

"Mom, Dad! I want to go swimming!" Jack's voice rang out, full of energy.

You sighed with a smile, glancing at Toto. "I guess the cuddling will have to wait," you said, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the bed.

Toto chuckled, stretching before following you out of the room. "We'll continue later," he promised with a wink.

You found Jack practically bouncing with excitement in the living area. "We'll swim in a while, but first, we need to have breakfast and a lot of sunscreens," you said, trying to match his enthusiasm.

"I want pancakes!" Jack declared, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Then you'll have pancakes," you replied, ruffling his hair. "Let's get cooking."

In the yacht's kitchen, you gathered the ingredients for pancakes. Toto joined you, his presence reassuring and comforting. As you mixed the batter, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Do you need any help, liebling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Yes, you can help by keeping me company," you teased, leaning back into him.

Jack's chatter filled the space, his excitement contagious as he talked about the fish he hoped to see later. You couldn't help but smile at his joy, feeling grateful for these precious moments.

When the pancakes were ready, you all sat down to eat. The scent of freshly cooked pancakes filled the air, mingling with the salty sea breeze. Jack dug in and Toto made sure your plate was never empty, his affection evident in every small gesture.

After breakfast, it was time to get ready for swimming. You found Jack's swimsuit and helped him into it, applying a generous amount of sunscreen to his fair skin. "We don't want you getting sunburned, buddy," you said, smiling as he wriggled under the cool touch of the lotion.

Toto, already in his swim trunks, looked effortlessly handsome. He helped you apply sunscreen, his touch gentle and loving. "My turn," he said, taking the bottle from you and smoothing the lotion over your back. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Once everyone was ready, you headed out to the deck. The water was a stunning shade of blue, inviting and calm. Jack could barely contain his excitement, bouncing on his toes as he waited for the go-ahead to jump in.

"Alright, Jack, go for it!" Toto said, and with a whoop of joy, Jack leaped into the water, creating a big splash.

You and Toto joined him, the cool water a refreshing contrast to the warm sun. Jack's laughter echoed around you as he swam, pointing out the colorful fish darting beneath the surface. "Look, Mom, Dad! There's so many of them!"

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" you replied, smiling as you watched Jack's eyes light up with wonder.

Toto pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as you both floated, watching Jack explore. "This is perfect," he whispered in your ear. "I couldn't ask for anything more."

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling with love. "Me neither," you replied, kissing him softly. The world around you faded away for a moment, leaving only the two of you in your perfect bubble of happiness.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and joy. You and Toto took turns swimming with Jack, helping him find shells and pointing out different kinds of fish. When you got tired, you all floated on your backs, holding hands and feeling the gentle rocking of the waves.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you all headed back to the yacht. Jack was exhausted but happy, his eyes drooping as you wrapped him in a towel. "I had the best day," he said sleepily.

"So did we," you replied, kissing his forehead.

Once Jack was tucked into bed, you and Toto sat on the deck, watching the stars appear one by one in the night sky. He held you close, his arm around your shoulders. "Thank you for today," he said softly.

"Thank you," you replied, leaning into him. "For everything."

You stayed like that for a long time, savouring the peace and the love that surrounded you. The gentle lapping of the waves against the yacht, the distant sound of the sea, and the warmth of Toto's embrace made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

[talesofesther]

I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[fafnir19]

The King-Boy

The sun shone brightly on a crisp autumn afternoon as Tristan, with a hint of reluctance, made his way from his student apartment to his family home. His strides were purposeful, yet there was an air of casualness about him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his blue varsity jacket —a signature Tristan charm.

He'd been tasked with babysitting his younger sister, Emily, and while he wasn't exactly thrilled about it, he knew it was the least he could do after rejecting his father's wishes. The tension between them was palpable; Tristan's decision to turn down the military scholarship had been a sore spot, and his father's disappointment hung heavy in the air.

He knew his father wanted the best for him, but the idea of a disciplined military life never sat well with Tristan's free-spirited nature. He had always been a bit of a rebel, and the thought of obedience and rigid rules made him cringe. Besides, the prospect of being sent to war zones, fighting for causes he didn't believe in, was not something he was willing to risk his life for.

Whatsoever today, Tristan had no choice but to put that aside and focus on Emily. Upon arriving at the cozy family home, Tristan found Emily in her pink-themed bedroom, a room that screamed 'little princess.' She sat on her bed, her curly brown locks bouncing as she eagerly awaited her brother's arrival. "Tristan!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "You're here! Are you going to read me a story?" He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, his heart softening despite himself. "Of course, Em. What story did you have in mind?" Emily scrambled to her bookshelf and pulled out a well-worn fairy tale book. "This one! It's about a princess and an evil queen. I want to know if the princess gets saved." Sighing, Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, his varsity jacket creasing slightly.

"Alright, let's see what this princess is up to." He opened the book, his deep voice filling the room as he began to read. "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess..." As Tristan narrated the tale, Emily's eyes grew wide with wonder. The story was one of adventure and peril, where the princess was captured by an evil queen with magical powers. Brave knights attempted to rescue her, but many fell victim to the queen's dark magic, transformed into creatures or slain by her guards. Tristan's voice took on a dramatic tone, bringing the characters to life. "The king, desperate to save his daughter, sought a brave soul who could break the curse. But all who tried..." He paused for effect, "...met a grim fate." Emily's attention was rapt, her small hands clasped tightly together. "Do you think anyone can save her, Tristan?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." Tristan's voice held a hint of boredom, his mind drifting to his own predicament. He, too, felt trapped, albeit in a different kind of fairy tale. "I bet you could save the princess," Emily said, her voice filled with admiration. "You're so strong and smart." A chuckle escaped Tristan's lips. "Me? Save a princess? I don't think so. I'm not the heroic type, and I'm definitely not risking my life for a stranger." Emily's face fell slightly, but her belief in her brother was unwavering. "But you're my hero, Tristan. I know you'd help her if you could." She reached into a toy box and pulled out a plastic necklace with a glittering red gem. "And with this magic necklace, you could control dragons! The princess would be saved for sure." Tristan couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. He allowed Emily to place the toy necklace around his neck, indulging her playful imagination. “Thanks, Emily," he said and played along. "I'll keep it safe until the right prince comes along."

As Tristan continued reading, Emily's eyes grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep. As Tristan sat there, the gem at his neck began to glow, emitting a soft light that illuminated the room. Startled, he reached for the necklace, but before he could grasp it, a whirlwind of magic engulfed him and a blinding flash transported him into the very fairy tale he had been reading. He found himself in a grand hall of a castle, its high ceilings and ornate columns a stark contrast to Emily's cozy room. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of distant trumpets echoed through the halls. Tristan, now dressed in a blue velvet jerkin, tight white pants, and golden riding boots, stood in awe, taking in his new surroundings.

"Noble Tristan, what a blessing that you are here to free my daughter!" A deep voice startled him, and he turned to face a regal figure—the king himself. Tristan's heart raced, realizing he was now a part of the very story he had been reading. Although surprised by the king's knowledge of his name, Tristan maintained his composure. He had no intention of playing the hero, but he recognized this as his chance to find a way back home. Feigning interest, he played along, knowing this was his ticket to finding the elusive queen. "Your Majesty, I am at your service. I shall do whatever it takes to aid in the princess's rescue." His mind, however, was already plotting his escape from this fantastical realm. "But first, I must ask, where might I find the queen?" The king's eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The queen, with her dark magic, resides in a castle beyond the northern mountains.” Delighted by Tristan's willingness, the king revealed his plan. "We have learned of a secret passage that leads directly to the Queen's castle. if you can distract her, my men will sneak into her castle and rescue my daughter." Tristan just nodded.

And so, with the king's guidance, Tristan embarked on his quest, riding through enchanted forests and crossing mystical rivers. The journey was not without its perils, but the young man's determination kept him focused.

Finally, the majestic castle of the evil Queen loomed before them. Guards, clad in dark armor, escorted Tristan while he strode through the castle's halls, his boots echoing on the stone floors. The throne room loomed ahead, and as he entered, the evil Queen's laughter echoed off the walls, sending shivers down his spine. "Ah, another brave soul, come to rescue the princess?" she cackled, her eyes sparkling with malevolence. "Do you not fear the fate of those who came before you?" Tristan stood tall, his voice steady. "I do not seek the princess, my lady. I have a more personal request. I wish to return home, and I was told you might hold the key to my freedom." The Queen's eyes narrowed, her interest piqued. "And why should I assist you, young man? What could you possibly offer me?" Tristan leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Knowledge, my lady. I have learned of a secret plan—an invasion of your castle. If you help me, I can provide details that might save countless lives." The Queen's laughter filled the room and the knowledge of his impending betrayal only added to her amusement. "You would betray your king for your own gain? How delightfully cunning. Very well, young Tristan, I shall send you home, but first, share with me these secrets." Tristan revealed the king's plan, his words flowing freely. The Queen listened intently, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she realized the extent of the betrayal. Within hours, the queen's forces had captured every man involved.

Tristan, stood before the evil Queen, his once indifferent demeanor now laced with a hint of nervousness. He had played his part, revealing the King's plan, and now awaited his reward—a passage back to his world.

The Queen's smirk sent a chill down his spine. Delighted by Tristan's treachery, she was offering him a place by her side. "Don't you want to stay and explore the wonders of this realm? You could be a revered knight, admired by all." Her words were tempting, playing on his desire for admiration. But Tristan's reluctance to commit to anything beyond his self-interest remained steadfast. "A knight? No, thank you, Your Majesty. To die on some battlefield, fighting for a cause that isn't mine? I'd rather not end up a casualty of war.  I want to return home." His response was laced with a hint of sarcasm, a remnant of his mischievous nature.

The Queen's eyes narrowed, her amusement turning to intrigue. "Very well, Tristan. To go home, you must kiss me and voice your wish." As the words left her lips, Tristan couldn't help but grin. *So this is how it's done in fairy tales*, he thought, amused by the cliché. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was innocent at first, a mere formality to seal their agreement. But as their lips touched, a spark ignited within Tristan, a sensation he had never known before. His body responded with a hunger he couldn't control. His cock throbbed against the confines of his pants, straining against the fabric. The Queen, sensing his arousal, broke the kiss and ran her fingers along his jawline, her touch sending waves of pleasure through him. "My, my, what have we here?" she purred, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. With deliberate slowness, she began to undress him, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his jerkin and sliding it off his shoulders. Tristan stood before her, naked and exposed, his cock standing erect, a testament to his desire. The Queen positioned herself on her throne, her dress pooling around her like a dark cloud. She spread her legs, revealing her moist core, and beckoned him with a tilt of her head. Tristan needed no further invitation. He moved towards her, his cock leading the way, and thrust into her with a rhythm that spoke of his urgency. "Yes, my noble Tristan, show me your strength," she crooned, her voice laced with encouragement. "Show me how you wield your sword." Her words spurred him on, and he fucked her with increasing fervor. The throne creaked with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Tristan's breath came in ragged gasps as he neared his climax. "I'm so close," he moaned, his voice hoarse with desire. The Queen matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Show me, Tristan. Show me the power of your sword." With a final, powerful thrust, Tristan reached his climax, his body shuddering as he released himself deep within her. He cried out, a sound that was part pleasure and part surprise, as he experienced a release unlike any he had known before.

Spent, he collapsed at the Queen's feet, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

The Queen, still seated on the throne, looked down at him with a satisfied smile. Her hand reached out, stroking his flaccid cock. To his surprise, he felt himself respond, his cock twitching back to life and slowly stiffening once more. "Oh, my dear Tristan," she cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction, "I see you are not yet done. Are you wishing to put your sword in my service, Tristan?" she asked, her voice laced with both power and seduction. She knew full well the power of her words, the double meaning they held. Tristan, still dazed from the intensity of his orgasm, didn't fully comprehend her words. He assumed she was referring to his cock, and without hesitation, he answered, "Yes, my Queen." A grin played around the queen's lips, because she had him right where she wanted! She reveled in the thought that Tristan has just unwittingly pledged himself to her. "Welcome, my knight," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And how far might you go to serve me, my loyal subject?" Her tone was light, almost playful, but the undercurrent of power was unmistakable. The question caught Tristan off guard. But before he could process his response, the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them, as if some unseen force guided his tongue. "I would die for you, my Queen." He froze, shocked by his own declaration and the consequences of it slowly dawning on him. Had he just agreed to become her knight? To serve and protect her, even at the cost of his own life? How could he, the very embodiment of youthful reluctance, offer such a profound sacrifice? His mouth had betrayed him, speaking words he never would have uttered under normal circumstances. The realization hit him like a slap. He had just pledged his life to this woman, this evil enchantress. As if reading his thoughts, the Queen chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, my dear Tristan, you have just become my knight. Your fate is sealed, and your loyalty is now unwavering." His agreement to serve her with his 'sword' had triggered a spell, binding him to her will. Tristan's mind raced as he tried to process what was happening. He had never been one to commit wholeheartedly to a cause, especially one as dangerous as knighthood. But now, under the Queen's spell, his thoughts were transforming. The idea of fighting on the battlefield, of risking his life for her, no longer filled him with dread but with a sense of purpose and honor. And strangely, the thought of dying for her made his cock twitch with desire.

The queen's eyes narrowed, a mixture of amusement and triumph dancing in their depths. She had sensed the change in him, the magic coursing through his veins. "Excellent, my knight. Your devotion is... inspiring." She rose from her throne, her movements graceful and calculated. "Come, let us prepare you for your new role." As if in a trance, he followed her, his steps steady and sure, as if he had always been destined for this path. She led him to a nearby chamber. The marble floor of the chamber was cold against Tristan's bare feet as he followed the queen, his body still glistening with sweat from their passionate encounter. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the flickering torchlight cast an eerie glow on the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that both intrigued and unnerved him. At the center of the room, a massive bathtub, carved from pure white marble, awaited them, its surface shimmering with steam. The queen, dressed in her elegant black dress, stood by the tub, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. Tristan's heart quickened as he realized the vulnerability of his nakedness in contrast to her fully-clothed form. It was a stark reminder of the power she held over him, a power he had willingly surrendered. "Step in, my knight," she purred, her voice laced with a command he couldn't refuse. Obediently, Tristan approached the tub and lowered himself into the hot, soothing water.

The queen knelt beside the bath, her fingers trailing along his skin, sending shivers down his spine. She held a sponge, dripping with fragrant soap, and began to wash him with slow, deliberate strokes. "You have served me well, Tristan," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck. "And I shall reward you." Her words sent a thrill through him, but it was not the promise of a reward that made his heart race. It was the touch of her hands, the intimacy of this moment, and the knowledge that he was entirely at her mercy. She washed his shoulders, her fingers kneading the tense muscles, and then moved down his arms, her touch both gentle and possessive. As the sponge glided over his chest and arms, he felt a tingling sensation, and his breath caught. His body hair, once a source of pride, was disappearing, leaving his skin smooth and flawless. The queen's magic was at work, transforming him, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement at the loss of his former self. Her hands traveled lower, and she cupped his balls, "Your manhood will be a symbol of your dedication." His balls, once heavy and low, began to shrink and tighten, moving upwards as if drawn by an invisible force. It was a strange, almost pleasurable sensation, and he found himself grinning. "My Queen, what... what are you doing to me?" "Ah, my knight, you are becoming more perfect by the moment," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "These shrunken, transformed balls will keep you youthful forever. A fitting gift for my loyal servant." Tristan shuddered, his cock hardening at her words. The idea of being her eternal servant, a plaything, should have terrified him, but instead, he felt a rush of excitement. He had become her pleasure tool, and the thought of being nothing more than an object of her desire sent a wave of arousal through him. "Do you like what you see, my knight?" she asked, her fingers tracing the outline of his hardening cock through the water. "Do you like how I've made you?" "Yes, my Queen," he replied, his voice hoarse with desire. "I belong to you." She smiled, a triumphant gleam in her eyes, and continued her bathing ritual, ensuring every inch of his skin was touched by her magic. The water grew cooler, and she helped him out of the tub, her hands never leaving his body. She dried him with a soft cloth, her movements slow and sensual, as if she were savoring every moment. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she produced the outfit of a knight, but with a seductive twist. The black leather pants she offered him were tight, hugging his legs like a second skin, and he felt a surge of power as he slid them on. No underwear, just his bare skin against the leather. The jerkin, black velvet with a plunging neckline, framed his chest, leaving it exposed to her gaze. "Dress, my knight," she commanded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me see my creation." Tristan complied, pulling on the pants, feeling the soft leather caress his skin. His cock strained against the material, the outline clearly visible but he no longer cared about modesty. The queen had taken that from him, replacing it with a constant state of arousal. He donned the jerkin, feeling the velvet brush against his nipples, now sensitive to the slightest touch. "Perfect, you are the embodiment of my desires. A bold knight, ready for battle, and a youthful pleasure boy, eager to serve." she whispered, running her hands over his chest and down his stomach, lingering on the bulge in his pants.

Tristan looked down at himself, his body a perfect blend of strength and sensuality. He was no longer the hesitant jock; he was a creation of the queen's making, designed for fighting and fucking.

The thought should have been alarming, but instead, it excited him. "Your transformation is complete, my knight. From now on, you will serve me, and the very thought of sacrificing your life for me will bring you pleasure." The queen's eyes sparkled with triumph. "You are mine, Tristan, body and soul." He stood tall, his body humming with newfound energy, his mind already embracing the destiny she had envisioned for him. Tristan's reluctance and indifference had vanished, replaced by a burning desire to please his queen, to fight and fuck in her name. As he left the chamber, his footsteps confident, he couldn't help but grin, his eyes gleaming with a newfound lust for life—or perhaps, more accurately, a lust for death in the service of his dark and enchanting queen.

Eighty years had passed since that fateful day when her brother, Tristan, had vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of unanswered questions. The pain of his disappearance had dulled over time, but the memories remained vivid, especially the one of him reading to her from a fairy tale book, a cherished moment before he vanished without a trace. Now, in the twilight of her life, Emily found herself in a senior home, sipping lukewarm tea, a far cry from the warm and lively household she once knew. She had long given up complaining about the temperature of her tea, knowing the nurses wouldn't heed her requests. But on this particular day, as she reached for a faded fairy tale book, a surge of nostalgia and curiosity overcame her. It was the fairy tale book that Tristan had always read to her. The pain of his disappearance too raw to bear, she had avoided the book for decades, for it was the last thing Tristan had read to her before his sudden absence. But now, as she approached the end of her journey on this earth, she felt prepared to revisit the story. "It's time to finally finish the story, Tristan," she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of determination and sorrow.

As she turned the pages, a bittersweet smile crept across her face. She noticed the peculiar coincidence of the protagonist's name, Tristan, identical to her brother's. It was as if the author had known her brother, capturing his essence in the character's deeds and demeanor.

The tale spoke of a young man, noble and brave, who found himself entangled in a web of magic and deceit. This Tristan, like her brother, was charismatic and confident, his charm effortlessly drawing people to him. But there was a darkness to this fictional Tristan, a mirror of the flaws Emily knew all too well in her brother. The tale spoke of Tristan's betrayal of the king, a deceitful act committed for personal gain. Emily's eyes widened as she read, for she saw her brother's actions in this fictional betrayal. It was a trait she had witnessed in him—a tendency to prioritize his interests, sometimes at the expense of others. She thought back to the countless times Tristan had charmed his way out of trouble, his mischievous smile belying a clever mind. "How could he betray the king and the princess?" she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of disappointment and understanding. In her heart, she believed that the queen's magic, which bound Tristan to her service, was a fitting punishment for his treachery. It was a harsh lesson in loyalty and honor, one that her brother had seemingly failed to learn. Yet, as the story progressed, Emily's disgust grew. The ease with which Tristan succumbed to the queen's enchantment, becoming her knight and, worse, her pleasure boy, was unsettling. She had always known her brother to be a charmer, but this... this was different.

The tale continued, revealing that Tristan's free spirit could not be contained for long. He rallied the queen's warriors, turning them against her, and in a twist of fate, he became their leader. With cunning and guile, he tricked the queen, a common trope in ancient fairy tales. But Tristan's punishment was cruel; he had the queen shackled in red-hot iron, forcing her to grant his every wish. Yet, despite his efforts, he remained trapped in his youthful form, forever horny and without a trace of modesty. He ruled the realm with a youthful vigor, conquering other kingdoms and earning the title 'King-Boy'.

Emily's heart fluttered as she read these words, unsure if she was thinking of the fictional Tristan or her brother. "He always did have a way of getting himself into peculiar situations," she sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her voice. A tear escaped, rolling down her wrinkled cheek, as she remembered her brother's playful smile and the sound of his laughter.

As Emily's fingers brushed the final page, the ancient binding began to glow, emitting a crimson light that illuminated the room. A figure emerged from its pages —her brother, Tristan! Emily's breath caught in her throat as she beheld a young man, no older than nineteen, with a mischievous glint in his eye, his attire a blend of fantasy and allure. He was dressed in enchanted knight attire, his black leather pants hugging his legs, and a black velvet jerkin showcasing his chest. His blond hair, once neatly styled, now held a slight wave, and his piercing blue eyes had softened with a lustful gleam.

"Tristan?" Emily whispered, her voice trembling. The young man smiled, and it was a smile she knew all too well. "Hello, Emily. It seems you've been reading about my adventures." His voice carried a hint of amusement, and he strode into the room with the confidence of royalty. “I've missed your company." His gaze, once indifferent, now held a mischievous glint, as if he relished the surprise he had caused. Emily's eyes welled up with tears of joy and relief. She offered him the teacup, a gesture of hospitality. "Welcome home, dear brother. I'm afraid the tea isn't very warm." Tristan took the cup and frowned, his brow furrowing in a familiar manner. "Indeed, it's rather lukewarm, isn't it? I've never been one for cold tea." Emily sighed, her gaze drifting to the window. "I've complained about the tea countless times, but the nurses here never seem to listen." Tristan took the cup and walked to the door. "Maid!" he called out as a nurse hurried past the hallway. "This tea is cold!" The nurse, flustered and annoyed, stopped in her tracks. "The tea is hot enough, and I've no time for your games, young man. Mr. Williams in room 203 can't breathe, and I need to attend to him." In a swift motion Tristan poured the tea onto the nurse, startling her. "Hey!" she exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden action. "Cold tea, indeed!" he exclaimed. "If it were hot, you'd be howling in pain. Apologize, maid, for your insolence!" The nurse, to Emily's astonishment, fell to her knees, as if compelled by an unseen force. "I—I'm sorry, sir," she stammered. "Excellent," Tristan purred, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "As a merciful king, I shall grant you a chance to redeem yourself. Bring us hot tea, posthaste, and address me as my King." As the nurse scurried off, Emily's mind raced. "Tristan, what about Mr. Williams?" Playfully raising an eyebrow, Tristan feigned ignorance. ""Emily, he can no longer breathe. I doubt tea is on his mind at the moment." Emily's expression turned from concern to confusion, and then to realization. Tristan's indifference to the plight of others had not faded over the years. She took a deep breath, her emotions warring within her. "But Tristan, he might—" He cut her off, his eyes sparkling with ambition. "Do you think they'd still offer me that scholarship at the military university? I could make those generals bow with a mere glance!"

Emily's emotions battled within her. The joy of having her brother back was tempered by the realization that he hadn't changed. The same playful arrogance that had always charmed her now left her conflicted. "Tristan, you... you haven't changed a bit. But I thought..." "Changed? Why should I? The world bends to my will, and I've ruled the fairy tale realm for decades. Imagine what I could do at that military university! I've conquered countless fairy tale realms, and now, I could rule this world too." Tristan's eyes gleamed with ambition. Emily shook her head, a mixture of fondness and exasperation washing over her. "You always were stubborn, Tristan. But I'm just glad you're here. I've missed you so much." Tristan's expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, a hint of vulnerability flashed in his eyes. "I've missed you too, Emily. But enough of this sentimentality. Let's enjoy this tea and plot my return to the mortal realm. I have a kingdom to rule and a world to conquer!" As they awaited the nurse's return, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and unease. The brother she knew and loved was back, but he was also a king from a fairy tale, with all the complexities and contradictions that entailed. He spoke of conquests and power, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was the hero or the villain of his own story.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Bitter Sweet Symphony

Summary: When reader finds out she's pregnant, she quickly realises the only person who's truly there for her isn't the father of her baby, but in fact her partner; Sonny Carisi. Slow-burn, angst, friends to lovers. Chapter 1: Unforseen Circumstances.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,”

The bar was quiet but those words spoken by the man in front of you was the loudest thing you’ve ever heard. You watched as he scoffed slightly, gave a small smile and looked into the brown liquid in front of him, “I mean it, I thought I’ve loved people before but you,” He finally looked up and met your eyes, “I love you. With every part of my heart,” A smile broke out on your face, “Awh Rafael, I never knew you to be such a sap,” You joked, bumping your knee into the ADA’s own, “But I love you too,”

“Come on, pick up, please pick up,” You whispered as you sat on the white tiled floor. Your back against the cubicle door, facing the porcelain toilet in front of you. The phone once again diverted to message bank and you could have screamed. You felt the frustration build up in your chest as you felt the lump in your throat grow. Your call list showed the same phone number repeated every minute for what seemed like a lifetime, but your clock showed it was only twenty. The small device laying on the ground beside you made the lump grow thicker, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were so tired, your heart was about to jump out of your chest. Pregnant. 5+

You needed air, you needed to get out of the small cubicle and to think. You needed someone, you needed anyone. You needed him. “You in here?” You heard the familiar Staten Island voice call out. You had left your partner waiting by your desk with a rushed apology and an accidental shoulder bump. As the door creaked open, Sonny Carisi's eyes scanned the dimly lit restroom, searching for any sign of his missing colleague. His concern spiked as he spotted your figure huddled on the floor, phone abandoned beside you.

"Hey, what's wrong? What’s happened?" Sonny's voice was soft, laced with worry as he approached you cautiously. His heart sank at the sight of your distressed face, the anxiety evident in every line. For as long as he had known you, you had always had a strong façade. Whether it be in the face on a perp or a victim, you never showed your game face. He used to joke about being the poker champion due to him never being able to accurately guess how you were feeling but now as you looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, and in that moment, he knew something was dangerously wrong. Without hesitation, Sonny dropped to his knees beside you, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours.

"I've been trying to reach him," You choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "But he's not answering. I don't know what to do, Sonny,” Your throat tightened again, the panic bubbling in your chest, “I can’t do this without him, I don’t know what to do.” Sonny could see the tears well up in your eyes as you placed your face in your hands, trying to hold back the inevitable tears that were about to start flowing down your face. “Wha-what do you mean? What’s wrong?” He asked, his hand moving to your back, starting to rub small circles on it. His eyes drifted down to where the pregnancy test sat, his eyes widening slightly at the words written on it. “I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do,” You sobbed out.

Sonny's heart clenched at the desperation in your tone. He knew who you were referring to, knew the significance of those unanswered calls. Rafael Barba, the man you loved, the father of your unborn child.

"Hey, hey," Sonny murmured soothingly, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll figure this out, okay? We can sort this out. We can sort everything out, But right now, let's get you off this floor and somewhere a bit more comfortable."

With Sonny's help, you rose unsteadily to your feet, leaning heavily against him for support. As you exited the restroom, Sonny kept a reassuring arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to your desk where your belongings lay forgotten.

"I'll drive you home," Sonny offered quietly, his gaze filled with unwavering support. "Or wherever you need to go. I’ll let Liv know you’re not feeling too well and I’m taking you home."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a rush of gratitude for your friend's unwavering presence in this moment of crisis.  As you gathered your things, you couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty that had settled over you like a suffocating blanket.

What if Rafael never answered your calls? What if he had left you alone to face this terrifying reality? It had been weeks since baby Drew and the trial, weeks since he had last seen you with a night of passion and a simple goodbye in the form of a kiss on the forehead, it had been weeks since you had even heard his voice. Was he avoiding you? Had you done something wrong? A part of you wondered if you should have reached out to his mother in case something had happened to him but another part of you screamed about how intrusive that was. You had only met the woman once in the short time you had been together.

The drive back to your apartment was a blur of city lights and distant sirens, the silence between you and Sonny heavy with unspoken words. You found solace in his silent companionship, his presence a source of comfort considering how your life had blown up with just one night. Your stomach was still in knots, still wondering what your plan was going to be. Were you going to keep it? Could you even be a mother? Could you handle pregnancy and all the pain you go through? Doubt seeped into your mind as you tried to think of yourself as a mother, could you put aside everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve for the sake of a tiny human?

When you finally arrived home, Sonny helped you inside, his steady hand on your lower back was a lifeline in the darkness. As you sank onto the couch, exhaustion washing over you like a tidal wave, Sonny hovered nearby, "I'll stay with you if you’d like," Sonny promised softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "For as long as you need me. They don’t need me back at work just yet,” “What do I do Sonny?” You whispered as he came to sit next to you.

Sonny settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight in your life. He glanced at you with a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered your question.

"We'll figure it out together," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. "First things first, you need to take care of yourself. I can make you some tea or grab you something to eat if you want. Then, we can talk about what you want to do next."

You nodded, grateful for his offer of support. As Sonny busied himself in the kitchen, you couldn't help but replay the events of the evening in your mind. Rafael's absence weighed heavily on your heart, leaving you with a gnawing sense of emptiness. You checked your phone once again, shoulders slumping slightly when the notifications remained the same as earlier. Your finger hovered over the call button, wondering if maybe he was just busy those few times but you knew, deep in your heart, that that wasn’t it at all. He was avoiding you all together. Sonny returned with a steaming mug of tea, placing it gently in your hands before taking a seat beside you once more. His expression softened with empathy when he saw you throwing your phone lazily on the table in front of you,  he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, reminding you that even if Rafael wasn’t there, you at least had someone by your side.

"I just don't understand why he's not answering," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We were supposed to be in this together, he told me that he would always be there no matter what but now...I don't even know if he knows. I sent him a text with what’s going on but he hasn’t even seen it."

"I wish I had all the answers for you," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But what I do know is that you're not alone in this. No matter what happens, I'll be here for you every step of the way. Doctors appointments, if you decide what you’re going to do, whether that be recovery or needing snacks at 3am you just ring me and I’ll be there. Always. "

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the depth of his unwavering support. In that moment, you realized just how lucky you were to have someone like Sonny by your side, someone who would stand by you through the hardest moments of your life. At what first started as partners, with you mocking his moustache on his first day and him giving it back just as hard, to you now being each other’s confidants; you’d almost go so far as to say you were best friends. Almost.

"Thank you, Sonny," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He offered you a small, understanding smile, his eyes filled with compassion. "You don't have to do this alone," he said firmly. "We'll do this together, I promise."

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY GARRUS VAKARIAN, updated version  *  assorted dialogue from the mass effect trilogy, adjust as necessary

i can't find any hard evidence.

good luck, [name]. maybe they'll listen to you.

i'm coming with you.

sometimes it feels like the rules are only there to stop me from doing my work.

i just couldn't take it anymore.

maybe i can get the job done my way for a change.

if you're wrong, we'll pay for it. but if you're right, and we did nothing, i think we'd regret it a whole lot more.

i thought you were dead.

it sure is good to see a friendly face.

at least it's not hard to find criminals here. all i have to do is point my gun and shoot.

my feelings got in the way of my better judgement.

i'll make you a deal. you get me out of here alive, and i'll tell you the whole damn thing.

nobody would give me a mirror. how bad is it?

don't make me laugh, damn it.

some women find facial scars attractive.

i'm fit for duty whenever you need me.

when i got to the meeting point, no one was there.

kill you? no. but i don't mind slowing you down a little.

what do you want from me, [name]?

i know you want to talk about this... but i don't. not yet.

it's so much easier to see the world in black and white. gray... i don't know what to do with gray.

my instincts are what got me into this mess.

never knew you had a weakness for men with scars.

well, why the hell not? there's nobody in this galaxy i respect more than you.

if we can figure out a way to make it work, then... yeah. definitely.

you're about the only friend i've got left in this screwed-up galaxy.

you don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. nervous, yes... but never uncomfortable.

i brought wine.

your hair looks... good. and your waist is... very supportive.

hopefully that's not offensive in human culture.

i want something to go right. just once.

think you can win this thing, [name]?

i'm pretty sure we'll still need giant guns... and lots of them.

so... is this the part where we shake hands?

the scars are starting to fade. i remember they drove you wild.

i've been doing some more research on human customs.

glad to know my romantic skills made an impression.

let's not go there.

i can afford the good stuff.

what about you? i'm starting to see some wear and tear.

don't forget to come up for air. and not just because all these people need you. because i need you.

if you're suggesting i'm scared... game on.

still trying to make me blush, huh?

i'd be lying if i said i didn't hope it would inspire a certain... mood.

it seemed like you needed time to... figure us out.

the worst part about the galaxy going to hell would've been never getting to see you again.

not saying you don't know how to handle a gun. just saying some of us know how to make it dance.

i've actually seen you dance. no comment.

i know there are other things you're good at.

probably not a lot of air in here. an hour if we're lucky.

so tell me. think a girl would fall for that?

it gets even better when you try it in bed.

you don't lack for places to get lost.

did we break anything last night?

you'll find a way to win. and when this is over, i'll be waiting for you.

if this thing goes sideways and we both end up there... meet me at the bar. i'm buying.

forgive the insubordination, but your boyfriend has an order for you.

come back alive. it'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you.

we're in this 'til the end.

we didn’t kill these people. and we’re going to shut down the bastards who did.

looks like we’ve got a siege on our hand.

if anyone needs fresh clips or a bathroom break, now’s the time.

oh crap!

guess he didn’t like the food.

looks like we got the jump.

pretty extreme, but those were desperate times.

we won’t get a second chance.

that was me, sorry.

nothing like being stranded.

we’ll do more than that.

just the usual minor flesh wound.

what would these people have done if we hadn’t shown up?

i was there when you two had your thing, remember? just get a room and work it out.

stay angry. we’ll need it to get through this.

drinks will be on me.

one of my favorite places to fight!

i’m hard to kill. you should know that.

it’s gonna be bad all over.

for whatever it’s worth, i’m with you.

you’ve waited long enough for this day.

just wait ‘til this war is over.

you came along and warmed my heart with your winning personality.

maybe you’d like to go work for them instead?

how do i not have one of those?

surprise on our side for once. i like it.

brutal, but it makes a certain kind of sense.