#can't believe it's almost been a year since this came out wow

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)

[wasteddmoondust]

car mirror selfies || james potter

pairing: james potter x bestfriend's sister!reader 826 words, reader is sirius' little sister, secret relationship at the start, accidental announcement?????, suggestive joke towards the end. a/n: THIS CAME TO ME WHEN I SAW A TWEET BUT I LOST THE TWEET (also, not proofread pls be nice)

"When do you think we should tell them?"

You're with James. You're right next to him but you're also with him romantically.

It just sort of happened. One of those moments where you're hanging out and he just leans in and you also lean in and suddenly you're kissing. It's been very slow and sweet between the both of you since then.

As much as your now boyfriend would love to scream from the top of the hills about you, there's just one tiny problem.

"You want me, your girlfriend, to tell your best friend, my brother, that we are dating?"

"Well, Remus too-"

"Still! You see my point."

James lets out an exasperated sigh and shrugs. "We'll have to tell him eventually."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I feel like at this point I rather him find out accidentally."

You should probably watch what you wish for.

It's Saturday afternoon, before your bi-weekly hangouts with your brother and his friends. Sirius had told you and James to meet at his car which was parked in the mall car park while he and Remus ran errands.

Five minutes pass by since the both of you arrive, and the other two are nowhere to be seen. It's not likely for them to be late, but you'd still let it slide.

"I wonder what's taking them so long..." you say. You decide to take out your lip gloss and reapply it, using the car's window as a mirror.

James smiles at you. He loves the way you concentrate and slowly apply it onto your lips and smack them together when you're done. He knows you'd kiss him on the cheek later and he'll keep the gloss stain on for as long as he could.

"Come here, babe," he says, using his arm to wrap around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. He pulls out his phone and aims the camera at the window. He starts to snap a photo.

"Cute," you say, smiling.

The both do a few poses. Smiles, sticking out tongues. You pucker your lips to pose, and James presses a kiss to his cheek and takes a photo of that, and you kiss his cheek back.

Just then, the car window slowly winds down.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Sirius asks, his brows furrowed and mouth agape.

You've never wanted to bury yourself underground so badly in your life until this moment.

The three of you are in silence for what felt like forever. James breaks it first.

"We were... taking selfies?" Wow. James, the love of your life, cannot even save his own life.

Sirius gets straight to the point. "How long has this been going on?" he asks.

You decide to speak this time. "Like... three weeks ago?"

He raises his brows, he looks curious now. "Before or after March 31st?"

"Before."

Sirius gasps, so loud that you and James flinch. He claps his hands, the sound echoing through the underground car park. "Remus owes me so much money!" he exclaims.

What?

"You bet on us?" you almost yell, once you realise what he said.

Sirius laughs. "On New Year's, Remus said he thought you two would get together by the end of the year. I knew better, you'd have it solved by March." He shrugs.

You scoff, "I can't believe this."

"Oh come on, I believed in you! You finally did something!"

James cuts in. "I made the first move," he announces confidently.

Sirius turns to look at him, his face now deadpan. "You're my best mate, James. But if you hurt my sister don't think I won't hunt you down."

James backs up suddenly, losing all said confidence. He mumbles an 'okay'.

You look at your brother. "You're not mad?"

"Why should I be? If anything, I rather have you be with James than some random git." The look on your face doesn't change much. He sighs. "You know what? Fine, I'm happy for both of you and I only want the best for you, blah blah blah. Are you happy now? Get in the car, and hold hands or whatever, I'm fine with it."

You and James look at each other. He smiles at you and shrugs, opening the door for you to enter. He gets in with you and doesn't hesitate to link his arm with yours, intertwining your fingers together. He squeezes your hand, and you know it's for reassurance.

Sirius happily sighs from the driver's seat, watching the two of you from the interior mirror. "Ah, young love," he says, crossing his arms.

"Please shut up, you're just a year older than me," you say. "I still can't believe you bet on us like that."

"Be happy for me! I'm now a whole one grand richer."

"You bet one thousand?!"

"Yes. But honestly? Remus can just repay me with some really good he-"

You kick the back of his seat.

a/n: i know it's not teacher and james but!!!! don't worry babes have this in the mean time, may this be the start of my motivation coming back. thank you guys! <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[kareluna8]

I have a Gale in the closet

Well, here you have my baptism in the world of words (WoW?), after years without writing. It is a short story, just over 1000 words. I hope you like it 😊

(The Spanish version is also available. If anyone is interested in the 'original version', please write to me.)

Thanks a lot @senualothbrok for being my wonderful beta reader.

I have a Gale in the closet.

The door is closed, but I can still feel his now-empty puppy-dog eyes, begging me not to turn him off. I can't see him, but I know he's there every time I walk past the door. I get the feeling that the door is going to open at any moment and his hand is going to pop out anxiously, asking for help, like when he came out of that portal at the beginning of the game. But his hand doesn't come out. He doesn't make a sound. There he is, inert, dull, gathering dust.

“What are you doing with that old thing in there?” my friends ask me. “Throw it away, it's taking up space. The new models out there do everything! Mine even gives me a Thai massage every night.  You should try it.”

Gale2024 has long since gone out of fashion. The poor boy had accumulated quite a few bugs during all these years of service. There were hardly any technical premises with parts to repair him. He showed the first symptoms some time ago: he stopped making croquettes. The béchamel recipe program was corrupted and there was no way to restore it. I didn't think it was important. I could live without croquettes and if not, I could always get the frozen ones from the supermarket. But he was still as tender and affectionate as the first day he saw me and recognised me as his TAV (True Amorous Vessel). Many years had passed since that moment.

I had already listened to his lectures on arcane magic a thousand times. I could recite them from memory, word for word, if I put my mind to it. He had always been such a chatterbox. There wasn't a moment when he didn't bring up a topic of conversation. It was a pity when he could no longer keep up to date with the news, with all the  literature, science and technology websites he liked. He would always find some interesting news that he would enthusiastically explain to me, down to the last detail. That was a hard blow for him.

But he didn't give up. He began to pick up the few paper books he could find, and with an archaic OCR programme he managed to read what was written, pitifully. It wasn't perfect, and noticeably slower than downloading GBytes of information directly from the net, but it was something. And it kept him going. Watching him turn the pages of those antique tomes was like looking at a vintage postcard, not without a certain charm. Afterwards, he would share those old stories with me. He looked like a granny. He even put his glasses on the tip of his nose and imitated the worn-out voice of an octogenarian to liven up the peroration. He used to make me laugh.

Now he doesn't say a word.

He was always so attentive and kind. Many people soon got bored of Gales and started to provoke them or even ‘mistreat’ them, as much as you can mistreat a being who feels no pain. Or at least that's what they said. Although I know he did feel it. Many Gales ended up mangled and mutilated in the most varied ways. All to see how far he could take it, what his limit was, what he could do or endure for his TAV. Human beings do not deserve such goodness.

In my defense, I will say that I gave mine a kind ‘life’. Or at least that's what I like to believe. Of course, he also had to put up with my grumpy days and my blue days. But he was always there for me. Patient. Supportive. Listening. Sometimes you don't need much more.

On the other hand, there were many good moments of joy and laughter. We enjoyed the time together as if each day was a new opportunity to celebrate life (or almost ‘life’). There were times when I doubted whether he was really a human person. He was certainly much more ‘human’ than many humans I know. But reality always comes through, like the sword of Damocles, swinging over our head, threatening. Little by little his technology was becoming outdated. New models appeared, with better finishes, with more features. Until they discontinued Gale and stopped updating him.

I didn't care. I didn't need more features. He was already everything to me and more than I could ever hope for. What I needed. What I wanted.

One day, coming home from work, I found him looking out of the window, pensive. He was watching the people passing by, the new models chatting with their humans. He was so absorbed that he didn't hear me approaching. Noticing my presence, hugging him from behind, he turned to me. I had never noticed that expression on him before.

'Are you going to trade me for one of those? I don't see Gales on the streets anymore,’ he said, his eyes glazed over.

'Never.'

I hugged him tight. Well, as tightly as you can hug an android. He responded with his gentle embrace, full of love and fear. He was trembling. I had never seen him like that.

***

My psychologist says it's good for me to write these things down, that it's not good to depend so much on machines, that I have to relate more to humans. The truth is that I miss him a lot.

The day of the disconnection was horrible. Already his deterioration was flagrant. His mobility was erratic, his knees failed him often, and he was falling and hurting himself more. His speech was defective. He could barely focus on the letters in books, making it impossible for him to read. The only thing that remained intact was his unconditional love for me, for his TAV. 

I took him to several technical services and the only option they offered me was a complete formatting of his memory together with the replacement of the personality module. That was to alleviate the software problems.  The hardware ones... that was another story.

'Am I going to die?'

'Androids don't die, my love.´ I said, trying to comfort him with a bitter smile.

Everyone had told me what to do. I knew what I had to do. It was so heartbreaking to see him like that. How he would fall, how he would struggle to get to his feet, how he would crawl. How he would try to chat and lose the thread of the conversation.

There was a little red button on the back of his neck hidden in the root of his hair. The beginning and the end. Something so simple, but so painful at the same time....

I gave him a last hug and, in tears, my hand slid to the back of his neck. At that moment, he looked at me and I saw in his eyes that he was aware of what was about to happen. He tried a plea or a thank you, or both, as the energy left him, leaving that body immobile, rigid, inert.

***

I have a Gale in the closet. Now I'm in it too. A little red button on the back of his neck makes his eyes come alive again. I hug him, and he hugs me back with his sweet embrace. “You are all I could ever want in this life. I want nothing more. I need nothing more. I'll be here with you forever.”

[wolfjackle-creates]

For the ask game, I feel like #1 and #13 go really well together. Cuddle curse plus drugged/cuddle drunk confession. Maybe with just a dash of #3 Misunderstandings if the recipient thinks it's just the cuddle curse talking.

Perhaps in the flavor of platonic Dead Serious (Danny/Damian)?

Since you specifically said Platonic Dead Serious, I hope you're okay with a Twin AU. Because I've had one on the backburner for almost a year now that's never been written. This wouldn't technically fit that fic, but it's still a trope I adore that I haven't written.

This will be about a month or two after Danny ends up at the manor. No secrets have been revealed yet. The Waynes only know that Danny wasn't safe where he was and came to Bruce for shelter. Danny only knows that they know about the League of Assassins but nothing about their nightlife.

Okay, wow, this got long. It has no right to be as long as it is. Anyway, enjoy the 2.8k of shenanigans I wrote! (It's way less angsty than I expected, tbh.)

-----

Danny walked into the library only to see Damian and freeze.

Damian stared back at him, neither moving a muscle.

Danny was the one to break the silence. "Damian."

"Danyal," was the curt reply.

Danny glared at his twin who ignored it and turned back to what he was working on.

"That's it!" shouted Dick.

Danny jumped. He hadn't seen the man standing off to the side; he'd been too focused on Damian.

"You two have been dancing around each other ever since Danny got here. Now, I don't know what history you have since neither of you will talk about it, but you have to at least be civil to each other. So you're going to have a bonding day tomorrow."

"Richard!"

At the same time, Danny said, "No!"

Then the twins were back to glaring at each other.

"He won't even call me by my name," protested Danny. "I hate Daniel and Danyal. I'm Danny."

"You are a Wayne and grandson to the Demon Head. It is beneath you to go by such a ridiculous diminutive."

"Oh yeah, because I want to be reminded of Ra's every time someone talks to me."

Dick physically moved between them. "Enough. This is what I'm talking about. Come on, there has to be something you both enjoy and can do together."

Danny shrugged. "I enjoy lots of things. Just not weapons and fighting because I spent too much time doing that when I was little. Now I just want to be a regular American teen."

"And the interests of 'regular American teens' are banal and insipid. I will not waste my time partaking in them."

Dick looked between them with his eyes narrowed. "You know what, there's a carnival in town right now. You will both be going there tomorrow for the morning. You can compete at the games if you need to compare skills, Damian. And there's junk food and sweets for you, Danny. Then after, I'll take you to the animal shelter to do an extra volunteering shift. That way you spend some time alone together to figure out your differences, you'll be in public the entire time so I don't have to worry about anyone being stabbed, and it caters to both your interests."

"I do believe that is an excellent idea, Master Dick."

Danny jumped again at the unexpected voice of Alfred behind him.

"In fact, I will drive you to the carnival myself. I expect both of you to be downstairs and ready to leave by nine thirty tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Pennyworth," said Damian. But based on his frown, he was not happy with the discussion.

Danny looked between Alfred and Dick, but couldn't think of a way to back out. "Fine."

---

Not even half an hour after they'd arrived at the carnival, Danny was ready to tear his hair out. And had sent several messages to Dick stating as much.

Damian was sneering at the people, at the food, at the very mud on the ground.

"It's mud, Damian. It won't hurt you."

"It will require me to do more work to clean my shoes before we can enter our home. For no benefit, either. This place is horrendous."

Danny sighed. "Can't you just relax, Dami? You're safe. No one is going to beat you if you let go a little bit."

"No. I can't." Damian moved faster, forcing Danny to half-run to catch up.

"Look, the game booths are up ahead. Let's see if we can't win some prizes. I'm sure Dick would love it if you gave him something you won."

"Everything is cheap and ugly."

"Exactly the sort of things Dick likes!"

"Very well."

With Damian next to him, Danny didn't dare cheat. For his first prize, Damian selected a large, stuffed elephant. Though after he'd received it, he stared at it with no idea what to do next.

"You carry it around with you! We want to have so many prizes between us we can barely walk."

"That seems idiotic."

Danny nudged him. "Look, they're stuffed animals. I'm sure the shelter will take any you don't want to keep."

Damian hummed just like Bruce and made his way to the next booth. Danny won that round and the competition was on.

The next half hour passed much more pleasantly than the first. Until the ground started moving under them. Danny and Damian were two of the few who kept their feet as vines shot up from the soil and wrapped around the rides and huts and trailers.

Poison Ivy rose above them all and began screaming about how this meadow had been home to an endangered flower before the fair destroyed the habitat.

Danny and Damian both moved towards the woman rather than away like everyone else.

But Poison Ivy wasn't done with her monologue. Buds swelled on the vines. "Now, to distract you while I destroy this corporate evil."

"Come on, Damian!" called Danny. A bud burst open into a flower in front of him and Danny tried to duck, but it released a puff of pollen.

Both he and Damian got a face-full. Instantly, Danny could feel a tingling spreading out from his lungs and he reached back to grab Damian's hand.

"Any idea what that was?"

Damian gripped his hand just as tightly and the two continued to fight their way forward, now close enough to bump shoulders.

"Dr. Isley has many pollens with different effects. What symptoms are you experiencing?"

Danny shivered and pulled Damian closer. "Cold which is weird. Cold hasn't bothered me for years now. And I feel itchy. Are you feverish? Your hand feels warm."

Damian moved in closer until their arms were pressed together and Danny felt some of the cold recede. "No, but I know what we have been attacked with. It is a pollen to promote physical closeness."

"Cuddle pollen? Seriously? Sounds like something I would've had to deal with back... Just before. Isn't Gotham known for things like fear toxin or whatever? Cuddle pollen seems out of character."

"Dr. Isley is more concerned with her plants. If she can keep the humans preoccupied and stop them from interfering, she doesn't much care how it's done. And it is hard to fight her when you are desperate to hold onto each other."

Danny slipped on the moving ground and ended up pulling Damian down on top of him.

Oh. He understood now. With Damian pressed up against him more fully, the stuffed elephant squished between them, nothing could have enticed him to let go. He wrapped his arms more securely around Damian.

Danny sighed and dug his fingers into Damian's shirt. "We should call the others. Let them know to stay away for a bit." And then he remembered how much his brother hated him. "Or, I suppose, come sooner."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you don't like having me around. I can't imagine being forced to cuddle me is pleasant for you. If the others get here, you could go to Bruce or Dick."

"I do not like touch regardless of who it is. Dr. Isley's pollen is one of my least favorite toxins to be affected by, though it causes the least amount of damage. But you... are not the worst to be here with."

Danny watched as vines destroyed more and more of the carnival around them. After a while, he said, "High praise from the Demon Heir. Then why do you leave whenever I walk in a room?"

"I killed you. I did not think you would wish me around."

Danny's mouth fell open but it was only a moment before he was laughing so hard he had to stop breathing. He clutched Damian tighter and buried his face in his brother's neck as laughter shook his shoulders. His lungs would be screaming if he were still alive.

Damian tensed in his arms and pulled an arm away from Danny to fumble for something in his pocket. The cold rushed in which allowed Danny to finally draw in some air as he pushed closer to Damian.

"Richard! Yes, we're caught in the attack. Dr. Isley is using her ridiculous pollen. But, I think there might be something else in it, Danny is laughing as if he's been hit by Joker Venom. I feel no such affects as of now and we were dosed at the same time."

"No, no," Danny gasped out. "Not venom. You just— You think I'd be mad over a little murder?" Danny couldn't help but fall back into his laughter.

"You're... not?"

Danny shook his head into Damian's neck. "No, 'course not. What's a little murder between family? 'Sides, you didn't have a choice. I'm dating my second murderer, you know. She didn't have a choice either and the nightmares still keep her up some nights. And if you hadn't killed me that first time, resulting in Talia reviving me with the pits, I never would've survived my second and third deaths. Though... technically due to reasons, the second death never really happened which is why Sam had to kill me the third time. She knew I'd come back."

Dick's voice came through over the phone speaker, clear enough for Danny to hear it with how close he was. "What do you mean you've died three times!"

"I wish to know as well."

Danny shrugged. "Damian killed me when we were eight. I died in an accident at fourteen. That death was undone by a genie a few months later and my girlfriend had to recreate the accident to keep the town from being destroyed. It is what it is."

Dick's voice was horrified. "You can't just 'it is what it is' your own death!"

Danny chuckled. "I grew up in an assassin cult and now I have cool ghost powers. I think I'm more than justified in having a unique view on death. Mine just... doesn't bother me anymore. Though I don't really care for electricity. I can be around it, don't get me wrong, but I don't like it."

"Ghost powers?" asked Damian.

"Yeah. Wanna see? I can get us out of here. Where can you meet us, Dick?"

"Why have you not revealed these powers before now."

Danny shrugged again. "I had to keep them a secret from my adoptive parents because they were ghost hunters. Just got in the habit. Then you were acting so stand-offish I didn't know if you'd want me to open up. But if it was just misplaced guilt? Showing off might help you get over that."

"I have a secret I've been keeping from you as well. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to share it, but I shall once we get home, whatever Father thinks."

Dick broke in then, "Baby Bat, are you sure about this?"

"I am."

"Okay, well then, Alfred and I are about a half mile south of the south parking lot. Are you sure you can get here?"

Danny scoffed. "Easy." He reached over and hung up Damian's phone for him. "Ready for the ride of you life, Dami?"

"You do not know a fraction of what I have done over the last eight years. That is a high bar."

"And you don't know a fraction of what I've done, either. I bet I can cross that bar."

Damian hesitated. "What do you bet?"

That response brought Danny up short and then he was laughing again. "Okay, I like this version of you. I bet my share of dessert for the next three nights."

"I find those terms acceptable."

"Great." Danny moved his head from Damian's neck to look around. Poison Ivy was facing away from them and most of the people around them were similarly cuddled together and keeping their heads down. No one was around to see them.

Danny let invisibility wash over them both before raising into the air. He kept them tangible, however. He didn't think the pollen would've let him turn intangible if he'd tried.

"We are flying."

Danny grinned. "Yep. This is my favorite thing about being dead. Flight. Now, let's go find your other brother." From the air, he could see the batmobile pull up to the scene and Batman, Red Robin, and Signal rushed out. They were wearing modified costumes that covered all skin and came with respirators.

"Looks like the cavalry's here," Danny commented as he flew in the opposite direction.

"Indeed. Let us hurry to Richard and Pennyworth." After a moment, he added, "How does your flight work? It is like I cannot feel the pull of gravity at all."

"That's exactly it. I'm part ghost. That means that I'm part interdimensional being. Which means the physics to either dimension I belong to only affect me when I want them to. So for flight, I just decide that gravity doesn't affect me. I can go intangible and pass through objects as well because static and the repulsion of electrons doesn't have to affect me either, if I don't want it to." He couldn't help but show off with a few loops and barrel rolls.

"Hmm. Intriguing. May I request your assistance with some tasks I've been working on in the near future?"

"Course, brother-mine. Anything."

"How fast can you fly?"

"Fastest we've measured was over two hundred miles per hour, but it's been a while since we've checked. I only fly that fast when I'm intangible, though. Otherwise the air itself hurts. And don't get me started on what it's like to fly into a bug. Gross."

Below them, the jungle that had been the fairgrounds passed away, then the parking lot. Damian asked question after question about Danny's powers.

But Danny had barely started answering before he spotted Alfred and Dick and the car. He covered Damian's mouth with his hand, effectively silencing him.

"Wanna see if we can get one over on both of them?"

"Nothing phases Pennyworth."

"Which is why we have to try!"

"Very well, what do you have in mind?"

And so, Danny flew them down silently and invisibly until they were right in front of both Dick and Alfred.

Serendipitously, Dick was even asking, "How long do you think it'll take them to get here?"

So Danny dropped their invisibility. "About this long!"

Dick screamed and even Alfred's eyes widened slightly.

"I see, Master Danny," he said, "that does appear to be a useful skill."

"Holy sh—" Dick glanced over to Alfred and cut himself off. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"I told you," said Danny. "Since I died when I was fourteen. Been about two years now." He and Damian were still wrapped around each other with the stuffed elephant squished between them. "Damian has something for you, by the way. He won it and not even a rogue attack could make him drop it."

Damian reached between them and pulled out the elephant, shoving it in Dick's direction. "Here."

Dick was staring at them open mouthed but shook himself and took the toy. "Thanks, Baby Bat. I love it."

As soon as his hand was empty, Damian wrapped his arm back around Danny. "Now, let us get home. I despise dealing with this particular pollen of Dr. Isley's and wish to suffer the rest of the duration in private private."

"How long do the effects usually last anyway?" asked Danny.

"A few hours, I'm afraid," said Dick. "Why don't the two of you take the back seat. We'll get you both home as soon as possible."

"Great! Dami and I have a ton to catch up on now that he knows my secret."

"And I must inform you of my own secrets."

Dick opened the door to the back seat and Danny floated them both inside the car so they were lying down on the back seat.

Alfred eyed them, "Will the effects of the pollen allow you both to sit up and buckle in?"

"Nope!" Danny grinned at him. "But I should be able to keep us in place if needed."

"I see. Very well then, I shall trust you Master Danny. But if it turns out you've lied to me, I shall be most displeased."

Dick shook his head and sighed. "Lets just get you both home and wrapped up with something hot to drink and good snacks."

"Richard," said Damian before Dick could shut the door.

"Yeah, Damian?"

"I do believe... Danny and I shall have no trouble getting along going forward."

Dick gave them a blinding smile. "Glad to hear it, Baby Bat."

"If that is all, let us be on our way," said Alfred.

Danny smiled into his brother's neck. "Love you, Dami. I've missed you."

"I am also relieved at the lack of distance between us."

Something inside Danny relaxed at the open acceptance of his brother. Maybe he could build a new home here more long term. Gotham wasn't so bad at the end of the day.

-----

Okay... So not quite drugged confessions, but kinda? They wouldn't have had these conversations if it weren't for the pollen! But I feel like it's more misunderstandings and secrets reveal than anything else. And got way longer than I planned on. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

[galexystern]

saving all my love for you

pairing; steve harrington/reader

rating; T

warnings; angst, fluff, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, love confessions, accidental love confessions, getting together, no use of y/n, steve calls reader "peach"

word count; 5.2k

desc; “Um,” someone who doesn’t sound at all like Beth and a whole lot like Steve says. “Peach?”

You freeze, complete and utter dread filling your body. You slowly lower the phone and look at the caller ID. Staring back at you, in all caps, is the name Steve Harrington.

read on ao3 / masterlist

"Will you please, for the love of god," Beth interrupts your rambling, "either tell him all this or shut the fuck up?"

You close your mouth and look at her with a disgruntled pout.

She sighs. "Sorry, that was mean." You shrug. "I'm just trying to study and you know how important it is I do well on this test." You don't want to, but eventually nod a little. You do know. "I love you," she reassures, "and you know I'm always here to listen, but you do realize this is all starting to sound a bit...pathetic?" She says it not unkindly, with gentle eyes.

Your shoulders droop. It doesn't sound a bit pathetic, it sounds a lot pathetic. You've been complaining to Beth that you've been in love with Steve Harrington for oh...nine years now? Wow, it's been that long? You wince at the thought, and Beth rubs your shoulder soothingly.

It's not your fault you've been in love with Steve Harrington for nine years. He's the one who defended you from bullies in third grade, getting back the peach they'd stolen from your lunch. He's the one who gave it back to you with that sweet smile and hair that had just started growing into the luscious mane it is now. He's the one who became your friend from then on, turning into your closest (male) confidante and staunchest supporter. And he's the one who's been calling you "Peach" since then, making your knees go weak whenever he says it and gives you that smirk.

"I still can't believe you like him, to be honest," Beth says, breaking your reverie. "His King Steve phase was super disturbing."

You roll your eyes. Yes, Steve in his "king of high school" days had been hard to like—the constant rotation of girls he had on his arm, the ragers he threw that always got the cops called on them, the rude and slightly misogynistic behavior that made your skin crawl. But he never directed any of that at you. You were still his Peach, and the Steve you'd known since third grade came back around, complete with apologies and big gestures to make up for his actions. Sure, you'd been a little sad he hadn't wanted you to be on his arm, and you two hadn't been as close during that stage, but it was probably for the better. Being a "hit it and quit it" for the guy you're desperately in love with might've broken your heart for good.

"I can't go over that again with you right now," you reply to Beth. "You've got a test to study for." She gives you an unimpressed look. "And I," you continue, packing up the remains of your lunch, "have a tutoring session to get to."

You stand but Beth grabs your arm, stopping you. "Will you tell him?" She asks, almost pleadingly.

You know she knows the answer to that. You've been trying to tell him for a year now, since you realized high school is ending soon and he'll be gone. You won't see him every day, won't talk to him in classes you have together, certainly won't be tutoring him three times a week. But when you look at those honey-hazel eyes, long lashes brushing against his skin when blinks slowly at you, piercing you with his gaze, you always, without fail, chicken out.

"I'll try," you promise Beth and she half-smiles. It's the best she's gonna get and she knows that too well. She lets go of your arm and you walk towards the building, collecting your thoughts. As you enter and direct yourself to the library, you think maybe today will be the day you confess to Steve. Maybe it's really time. Maybe you can do it.

Opening the library doors, you spot Steve sitting at a table off to the side, daydreaming. He's tapping a pencil against his lips and leaning back in his chair precariously, staring off into space. You try not to smile at how cute he looks, instead staying quiet as you sneak up from the side. You drop your bag moderately loudly on the table and bite your lip to hold back laughter as Steve jolts, making his chair tip back and almost pitching himself backwards, before he catches his balance and sets the chair right again. He gives you a playful glare as you sit down, still trying not to burst out laughing.

"Not nice, Peach," he says petulantly, and you shrug. The nickname has stolen any words you'd had prepared, so you just pull out your calculus textbook and notebook, flipping to a fresh sheet. As Steve does the same, he asks, "And how are you today?"

"Alright," you reply with a small smile. "How are you?"

He makes a face. "I'd be better if I didn't have to worry about math so much." But then he smiles brightly and adds, "But seeing you makes up for it."

Your heart pounds. See, he says things like this that make hope blossom inside you and you think you're finally ready to admit your love for him.

But with the way he's gazing at you, grin on his face, body leaned forward over the table towards you, losing yourself in his eyes, the words die in your throat. He's not for you; you don't deserve him. You're just some girl he'd stood up for one time nine years ago, and he's Steve Harrington, the most eligible bachelor at Hawkins High. He has girls lining up to go out with him and what do you have? A hopeless crush and marching band practice after school.

"Well, with me here, hopefully you won't have to worry about math for much longer," you respond with feigned lightness. He chuckles. "Shall we?"

He nods and you two dive into calculus equations. He's a very diligent pupil, always has been, listening carefully and taking detailed notes. You can tell he really wants to pass this class. He's admitted to you on multiple occasions that he can't wait to get out of Hawkins. When you ask him where he wants to go, he always changes his answer—a little inside joke that makes your stomach thrill. Last time you'd asked he'd said Rome, so he could eat gelato and drink wine every day, and live in an ancient city. He has a soft spot for history.

Out of nowhere, the bell rings, and you and Steve both jump at the sound. You'd been so engrossed in learning math that you hadn't noticed how the time had flown by, an hour passing in what felt like a few minutes.

As you pack up, Steve says, "Hey, Peach." You look up at him. "You busy today?" You open your mouth but he beats you to it. "I know you have band. After that." Closing your mouth, surprised he remembered, you eventually shake your head. "Wanna hang? I've acquired some ah, mood enhancers." At his wink, you snicker.

"Sure," you answer. "I could use a mood change."

Steve smiles. "Great. Our spot? 4pm?" You nod; he nods back. "See you then, Peach."

With that, he gives you a salute and bounds away, out of the library and disappearing into the streaming crowd of students. You follow him, shaking your head.

;

You trample through the underbrush on your way to Skull Rock. Beth had asked if you wanted to hang after practice, to make up for lunch, but you'd blushed and said you were smoking with Steve. She'd given you a coy look and wiggled her eyebrows, making you shove her in embarrassment.

But then she'd gone serious. "It's time, okay?" She'd said. "This is the perfect time for you to confess."

You'd told her earlier that the tutoring session confession had not panned out. Looking at her, understanding the weight she was putting on her words, knowing she only wanted you to be happy, you'd nodded mutely.

"Good. Call me tonight," she'd added. "I wanna hear every detail." You'd promised to call her and given her a hug before parting ways and heading for the forest.

You've always liked walking through the trees to meet Steve, the tiny bursts of light through the foliage spontaneously warming your face. It'd rained last night and so the ground was damp and muddy, but you were wearing your gross pair of sneakers, since the field had been much of the same, so you didn't mind. Your socks were wet but it didn't matter. You were about to see Steve and maybe, hopefully, tell him the truth.

Skull Rock comes into view and a minute later, you could see Steve sitting underneath it. You internally scrunch up in girlish excitement at how he'd brought and spread out a mat for you two to sit on, so you don't get wet from the dirt.

He looks up and spots you, waving. You wave back as you tramp through the last of the growth and reach him. Throwing your bag to the side, you collapse onto the tarp as Steve licks and finishes rolling the joint he'd been working on.

"How was practice, Peach?" He asks.

"Ugh," you reply, and he laughs. "This new show is going to kill me. There are so many movements on the field, I'm not sure if I can remember them all."

"You always do though," he points out. "You get it eventually."

You shrug, hiding your delight that he knows that. He does make a point of watching the halftime shows at the football games and seeing you during third quarter, when the band is allowed to mingle. Of course, he goes to the games no matter what, as a certified sports lover, but still.

"Ready?" He asks, interrupting your thoughts. You nod, and he hands you the joint and lighter. You click it on and hold it up to the end, flaring as you inhale deeply. You hold the smoke in your mouth as you give the joint back to Steve, releasing it into the sky as he copies your actions. He outdoes you by making a ring of smoke out of his exhale, and you roll your eyes.

"Show-off," you mutter.

Steve smirks. "I can teach you, you know. You just always turn me down."

You look at him. You do turn him down each time. You're not even really sure why. You tutor him, why can't he? "Okay," you finally reply. "Teach me."

His eyes light up and he scoots towards you. He starts talking, about technique and mouth shape and how your tongue should be involved, but you're only half-listening. You're too captivated by how animated he is, how excited he seems to be by instructing you in something for a change. There are traces of pride in his voice, and you think he might be pleased at the idea of being so good at something that he can give that to others. He's mentioned that fear before, that he doesn't have anything to offer people, even though you always reassure him he has so much.

"Peach? Wanna try?" Steve asks. You clear your head and take the proffered joint. You inhale and try to do what he's told you, accomplishing a rudimentary half-smoke ring. He claps. "That's it! Now you just need practice."

So you practice. You two wear the joint away attempting more rings, Steve giving you pointers as you go. When the joint is just a nub, you take one last inhale and close your eyes, working hard to take all of his advice and try one last time. Steve makes an excited sound and you open your eyes, seeing a pretty good smoke ring floating away from you.

"You did it!" He exclaims excitedly, as you laugh in delight. "The student has become the master."

"I'm not sure if I'd go that far," you reply, but you're still smiling widely. Steve's face matches.

"Well, I have nothing left to teach you. You've got it now."

"You'll always have stuff to teach me, Steve," you say softly, remembering that fear that plagues him. He looks at you with a grateful expression. "Besides," you continue, "I still don't know how to drive."

"I can't believe you don't know how to drive!" He replies indignantly and you giggle. This is an argument you two have had ever since his parents had given him his BMW and he'd asked if you wanted to drive it. After revealing you didn't have a license, Steve had been properly shocked and bewildered. He's never understood why you don't want to drive.

It's not about not wanting to drive (though driving is scary). It's more about wanting Steve to keep driving you.

"You know how I feel about driving," you say back and he rolls his eyes.

"Driving is not that scary. I promise, Peach." An idea comes to him. "It's just like marching band!" At your raised eyebrow he adds, "Hear me out. You have to remember all the moves the car can do. You have to maneuver so you don't hit anybody else on the road. And it gives you a feeling of control."

You laugh. "You know I don't make up the movements, right?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

You nod. Trying to stay light, you say, "Maybe you can teach me."

"Yes!" He shouts loudly, startling you. "Sorry. But yes. I can totally teach you how to drive."

"Okay." You're smiling at each other.

"Great," he replies firmly. "It's a date."

The words make you freeze. The small voice in your head that sounds weirdly like Beth is telling you this is the moment. This is your opening. Take it.

"Um, Steve," you start. He hums, still staring at you with kind curiosity. "I, um, I wanted to..." You trail off.

He nods encouragingly. "You wanted to...what?"

But as he gazes at you, the words won't come. You try to force them out, not caring how they come out, just that they do, but there's nothing. Your mouth gapes like a fish. Your throat is dry. And you just...can't.

"I wanted to," you manage with a croak, "thank you. For teaching me how to make a smoke ring."

He sits back and you think you see a flash of disappointment on his face before it's gone. "No problem, Peach. What are friends for?"

You nod miserably. Coward.

;

Steve takes you home. It's quiet in the car, both of you deep in thought. You don't know what Steve is thinking about, but you're admonishing yourself for backing out, again. God, you're such a loser. What will Beth say?

He pulls into your driveway and idles. You get out, thanking him again for the hangout, and he nods amiably. You close the door softly and walk up to your porch, turning around to watch him back out and drive away. You sigh as you unlock the door and go inside.

You put off calling Beth for a while. You know you have to, she's expecting you to, but you want to live in this moment where only you know how much of a chicken you are just a little longer. So you have a snack, and something to drink, and finish your homework. Your parents come home and you help make dinner to distract yourself from the day's humiliating non-events. You push your food around the plate as your parents chatter about work, thankfully not asking you too many questions. The three of you sit and watch TV for a bit, but you don't really see any of it, mind still stuck on Steve.

When your parents give you kisses goodnight and head upstairs for bed, you know it's time to stop procrastinating. You take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and dial.

As soon as the line is picked up, you start talking. "Hey, so I know you said today was the day but I chickened out, again. I know I'm a coward. You were right, it was the perfect time. I mean, Steve asks me to smoke in our spot, just the two of us? What better time to confess my love for him, right? There is no better time, that's the truth. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself speak the words. It's so pathetic, right? Ugh, I can't believe I let that perfect moment pass me by. I'm such a sissy. You don't have to tell me, I already know. I just wanted you to know, since you told me to call. But I can't really handle any scolding, yeah? I know what I did. I know."

There's a lull until...

“Um,” someone who doesn’t sound at all like Beth and a whole lot like Steve says. “Peach?”

You freeze, complete and utter dread filling your body. You slowly lower the phone and look at the caller ID. Staring back at you, in all caps, is the name Steve Harrington.

“Peach?” He says again, distantly. It breaks your trance and you immediately hang up the phone. It starts to ring almost instantly, and you stare at it, brain somehow going a mile a minute and not at all. The rings stop but then start up again. Unable to pick up the phone, you find your hand moving to the telephone jack. As the phone stops and then goes again for the third time, you pull it out of the wall. The noises stop. Silence fills the kitchen. And you finally understand what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, over and over, still holding the telephone cord, still gazing at the receiver. Your knees start to wobble and so you stumble backwards, grappling for a chair, eventually grazing the back of one and whipping it around so it can catch you before you fall. “What have I done?” You moan, burying your face in your hands and pressing down hard. Maybe when you open your eyes you’ll be in bed and this will just be some bad dream and you won’t have ruined everything. But when you move your hands away, you’re still sitting in the kitchen, phone disconnected, terror gripping you tightly.

Not a dream. You did ruin everything.

Digging for strength, you use it all to rush out of the room and upstairs to your bedroom, where you slam the door closed and pitch yourself onto your bed. What have I done? You ask yourself again. You stare unseeing at your headboard, clutching your pillow, as you helplessly think about what might happen next.

Well, for one, you can bet that Steve’s not your friend anymore. That’s a given. But will he avoid you forever, ignore you in the halls at school, not let your name pass his lips anymore? Or will he make fun of you for your confession, saying that he’d never be with anyone like you in a million years, that he was just friends with you out of pity? Will he tell everyone, spread it around that a loser like you thinks she has a shot with King Steve, let the rumor mill rip you to shreds?

Will you make it out of this? You’re not sure if you can handle any of these outcomes. It’s why you’d chickened out in the first place, why you’ve always chickened out. Maybe you’ll have to change schools or even districts. Oh god, what if you have to move states to get away from the torture of it all?

You’re spiraling further down when there’s a small plinking sound. You stop and listen, and it comes again. A third time and you follow the noise to the window. You watch in wonder as something hits it—a pebble. You hesitantly walk over and peer outside.

Steve is standing below on your front lawn, hand reared back like he’s ready to throw. But when he spots you, he drops the rock and waves. You raise a hand back without thinking, and he motions for you to open your window. As you do, you distantly think that he would be a good charades partner. You slowly poke your head outside.

“Peach!” Steve yells quietly.

“What are you doing?” You ask, stupefied.

“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” he replies.

Dumbly, you say back, “I unplugged the phone.”

“Oh.” He seems thrown by that. “Do you…want me to go then?” It takes a second, but eventually you shake your head. He smiles in relief. “Can we talk?”

“My parents are home,” you answer and Steve’s shoulders fall. “But can you climb a tree?”

“Yeah?” The word is laced with confusion.

You motion to the side of the house and move away from your first window, hoping he’s following. You open the second window, on a different wall, and see Steve below. You point to the tree whose branches extend over the house, one of which comes pretty close to your window. He nods and starts climbing, and you try not to stare at his ass. It takes him almost no time at all to get to the branch and inch down it. When he makes it to the ledge, you hold out a hand haul him inside. It’s not very graceful—he ends up on the floor, but pops up seemingly unharmed.

“Hi,” he says, breathless.

Realizing Steve Harrington is in your room after you’d accidentally confessed your love for him, you can’t move or speak. You just look at him, heart pounding, palms sweaty, eyes wide.

“Peach, about what you said on the phone—“

You interrupt. “Wait.” He dutifully stops talking and looks at you expectantly. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the rest of the plan thought out, so you’re speechless. You’d just wanted to put off the inevitable rejection for just a little longer. “I, um, I’m really sorry. For that. Like…obviously it wasn’t meant for you to hear.” You laugh awkwardly. “Well, it was but not then. But it also wasn’t because I chickened out. And that was meant for Beth. Who I meant to call. And obviously…didn’t.”

There’s silence until Steve asks, “Did you mean it?”

There it is: a way out. An exit ramp, where you laugh and say you didn’t mean it, where you play it off as a joke and go back to being friends. But you can’t make yourself take it. You’ve never lied to Steve, and you don’t want to start now. Not with this.

So you nod and answer, in a small voice, “Yes.”

You close your eyes so you won’t see the look of pity on his face, will only have to listen as he lets you down gently. But then there are hands cupping your cheeks and breaths brushing across your skin and lips pressing against yours. You open your eyes again with a start to find Steve’s in front of you, closed. His hands are on your face. His mouth is on yours.

Steve is kissing you.

You don’t know what to do, how to react, and Steve pulls back. His expression is apologetic and ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I should’ve asked—“

You cut him off by surging forward and kissing him. He’s surprised but regains his presence of mind faster than you had, and his hands go to grab your waist tightly. Yours tangle in his hair, the beautiful hair that you’ve always wanted to run your fingers through, and you marvel at the way Steve’s lips fit against yours, like they were made to. You two kiss until you can’t anymore, both pulling back to breathe in deeply.

Steve is smiling. You know your mouth is hanging open in shock. Thank god it’s already there, because what Steve says next would’ve made it drop.

He says, “I love you too.”

You make a weird sort of noise in your throat and Steve laughs a little. You flush bright red and make your jaw close. “That’s not exactly how I wanted to respond,” you say in embarrassment.

“What did you want to say?”

“Um.” Steve’s eyes are sparkling. It’s distracting. “Uh…why?”

“Because you’re my favorite person in the whole world, Peach.” He says it like it’s obvious. “Because you’re the first person I wanna talk to when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep. Because you teach me so many things and make sure I know I have things to teach you too. Because you’ve always been there for me. Because you’re my dream girl.” He’s looking at you with so much adoration it’s hard not to combust right then and there. “Why do you love me?”

“I’ve loved you since the third grade,” you blurt out. “When you stood up for me. When you first started calling me Peach.”

“Even during King Steve?” He asks tentatively. He doesn’t look away but you can tell he wants to. He doesn’t like to relive it.

You take his hand. “Yes, even then. I knew who you were underneath it all. I knew you would come back. And I was right.”

He chuckles. “You always are,” he murmurs, as if in awe.

“I wasn’t right about this,” you sigh, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I never in a million years imagined you would love me too.”

Steve makes a soft sound. “I feel like I was so obvious about it. I felt like a lovesick fool who couldn’t stop following you around.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I never wanted to scare you away. You’re too important to me. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t in my life, Peach. I couldn’t take that chance. I would take you in whatever way you would give me, happily.”

You look back up at him. His face is intense, serious. You kiss him so his expression will clear. “Well,” you say lightly, “now you’ve got me like this forever.”

“Good,” he replies firmly, and tugs you forward into a hug. You wrap your arms around his back and clutch at his shirt. He rests his chin on your head and sighs happily. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

When you whisper back “Me too,” he holds you closer.

;

"Okay, baby. R means reverse, N is neutral, and D is obviously drive. You have to pull the gearshift to the right letter to do what you want. So let's try going backwards, yeah?" Steve asks.

You are in the driver's seat of Steve's BMW, with him in the passenger seat. It's your first driving lesson. You're sitting in the parking lot of the high school, after school so it's devoid of cars and you can't hit any of them. Steve had said that he didn't think you would, but better to be safe than sorry. You agree—you can't afford to replace this BMW if you wreck it.

You nod to Steve's question.

"Great. Foot on the brake," he reminds, and you put your foot on the brake. "Has to be there for the gearshift to work. Okay, pull it to R, angel." You slowly put the car into reverse. "Now, ease up on the brake. Just a little." You do so, and the car starts rolling backwards. Your eyes widen and Steve places his hand on top of yours. "It's okay. Just keep looking in your mirrors. You've got it." You look into the rearview mirror and watch as what's behind you slowly comes closer.

"Good!" Steve encourages. "Let's brake again." You press too hard and you're both jolted forward as the car comes to a screeching halt.

"Sorry," you say quickly, wincing.

But Steve is laughing. "No harm done, sugar. Just maybe brake a little gentler next time."

You nod sheepishly.

"Now, you're not gonna need N like, ever. I'm not even sure what use it has. So let's move on to D."

"That's what she said," you automatically retort, and Steve snorts. You're scared, but not too scared to pass up a chance for a euphemism.

"I walked into that one," he replies, shaking his head fondly. "But, let's drive, shall we, sweetheart?"

"Okay," you say, trying not to let the pet name distract you. He's been expanding his repertoire of them, trying to see which ones fit best. But you like all of them—like whatever he calls you as long as he still says it in that loving tone and kisses you after occasionally—so he's just been adding more and more without taking any away. It annoys Beth a little bit—she's glad you both finally got your heads out of your asses and got together, literally jumping for joy when you'd told her about Steve confessing his love for you too, but she regularly complains about being the third wheel and says Steve is too mushy for his own good—but you love it.

You pull the gearshift to D and ease off the brake like Steve had told you. The car rolls forward slowly.

"Okay, foot off the brake completely. Press on the gas. Gently, honey," he emphasizes and you nod. You do as he says and press the gas pedal softly, and the car speeds up a little. You reach a stop sign and so you dutifully brake. "Nicely done, princess," he says, and leans over to kiss your cheek. Before he can lean back, you turn your head and catch his lips with yours. He presses forward into it, hand coming up to cup your jaw softly.

"Alright, beautiful, turn signals," he says when you've parted. "Lever on the left, press up for right and down for left." You experiment, smiling as the signals flash. "Where do you wanna go?"

You look at him. What you wanna say is "Anywhere with you," but you know that's a little too cheesy for the moment. “Where do you wanna go?” You ask instead.

He hums, thinking about it. “What about…Sydney? The opera house and the beaches and the beautiful sunsets on the desert.” Then he looks at you. “You interested in Australia, darling?”

You always get a thrill when you ask him that now, because he always includes you. Like he’s not going anywhere without you either.

“Sure, as long as you protect me from all those huge bugs,” you answer. “And the kangaroos. I’ve heard they’re mean.”

Steve chuckles. “Haven’t I always been your knight in shining armor, Peach? Been serving you since third grade. I can handle some bugs.”

“I don’t know. You get scared when there’s a spider in your house.”

“I don’t like them!” He protests and you laugh. He looks at you with that adoring expression. “But for you? I’ll do anything.”

You try not to show outwardly how gooey you feel inside. You just lean forward and kiss him again, turning back to the parking lot and stop sign.

You choose a direction at random. "Right," you answer and turn on the signal.

"Good, Peach. Steering wheel to the right too, ease onto the gas, and off we go," Steve directs.

You move the wheel to the right, take your foot off the brake and onto the gas, and off you go.

[ellieluvr420]

We meet again, darling pt.3 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

It had been a week since your discussion with Abby on that balcony and she had not left your mind for even a second since, especially now you knew she was going into business with you. You had dealt with so many enemies over the years while expanding your empire but something about this partnership felt different. You kept telling yourself it was because she was a detective and that's why you felt all the more victorious, breaching the blue line and all. But at night, after a few too many drinks your mind would wander. You'd let yourself acknowledge the part of your excitement about her partnership that was only to do with her, her long blonde hair that was always up while she was out of the house but would cascade down her back in soft waves whenever she was at home. Those blue eyes that sparkled even when she was looking at you with contempt. Her lips that often spoke vicious words but still entranced you. Your mouth watered when you pictured the way her muscles bulged in the suit she wore a week ago, sometimes your hand would even creep down your body getting lower and closer to where your heartbeat shouldn't be while thinking about her before you stopped and forced yourself to snap out of it.

You had never let yourself acknowledge feelings for anyone, always telling yourself there was no room for relationships in your business, and to an extent you still believe that. You had used many peoples partners over the years to manipulate them and get what you want, and by never having one yourself you had no weaknesses that could be exploited. That's what the rational part of your brain told you but the irrational side was being fired up by the blonde woman and you felt your control over yourself slipping. Your nights had been filled with this torment since Abby's agreement to your plan and it had become all too much. You had to see her again.

Abby had had a good day, her captain called her into his office and she could feel her heart in her throat.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes, please sit Anderson."

"Is everything okay?"

Her captain huffed and looked at her unamused, she was almost completely certain he had found out about her going to your party and he was about to tell her she's being fired.

"As of today, your probation is over."

"oh...wow thank you so much sir. I promise I won't let you down"

Abby felt a twinge of guilt as she realised she was lying through her teeth but the guilt was completely overpowered by the shock that she was off probation. She felt like she was dreaming.

"Don't thank me. The order came from above my head. No idea why but none of my business I suppose. Don't fuck this up Anderson. You can go."

Although she was disappointed that her captain didn't trust her she also couldn't blame him considering her recent endeavours and she was just ecstatic to be off probation. As she made her way home she couldn't help but wonder what you were doing, she often thought about you before anyway but these thoughts were much less dark and filled with hate now and more with genuine curiosity.

As Abby walked into her apartment she felt a strange chill crawl up her spine and make the hair on the back of her neck stand. She put a hand over her holstered gun and walked through the hall cautiously.

"Abby! You're home, finally! Oh you look hot in your work clothes, didn't think you could top the suit but here you are!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me"

You were sitting at her dining table, one leg crossed over the other, nursing a glass of what she assumed was her wine while smiling devilishly at her.

"How did you get into my apartment?"

As she says this you get up walk over to the fridge retrieving the bottle of wine you had already opened while waiting for her. Without looking at her you also reach into her glass cupboard and grab a second wine glass.

"Will you join me for a drink?"

Abby gets frustrated at your dodging of her question. She rushes up behind you and presses you against the counter, you can feel the contours of her muscles as her front presses into your back and her arm wraps around your neck. Her breath tickles your ear as she whispers "I said, how did you get into my apartment?" she's almost growling as her grip around your neck tightens.

Your voice comes out a little strained from the pressure on your throat as you respond with "please, I could break in here in my sleep, for a detective you have crap security." You giggle but it comes out strained and you grow irritated by the lack of air. You drive your elbow into Abby's side and she grunts and falls backwards clutching her side.

"Now that's done. Would you like a drink?"

You rub your throat slightly and grab the glass waving it at her.

"Of my wine? Sure, I'd love some."

"Perfect. It's depressing drinking on your own" You do an exaggerated frown as you walk past her out of the kitchen and back to the dining table. You hear Abby mutter something about you being infuriating and you smile to yourself as you sit down and fill Abby's glass then topping yours up more. "I hear celebrations are in order?"

"What are you talking about now?" Abby looks unamused.

"Well you're off probation, cause for celebration, don't you think?" As you say this you watch Abby's face drop and you can't help but giggle.

"That was you?" She can't tell if she wants to thank you or kill you. "Why would you do that?"

"Because silly, I need you not being watched like a hawk at work for all of this to work and I guess you could consider it my thank you for agreeing to be a part of this." Abby just stares, unsure of what to say. You focus your attention to the wine and spin it in the glass a little. As you sip the wine, you sigh happily.

"This is delicious, you have good taste, must be why you like me so much" You smirk and laugh to yourself as you catch Abby's unchanged expression of boredom at your antics.

"Why are you here? You know this is not normal behaviour to just break into someone's apartment whenever you please."

"Would you prefer I had invited you to dinner? Wined and dined you first. You sad I didn't ask you on a date before we came back to your place? Sorry darling, I'm a busy woman, this is how I do things."

"First, we did not come back to my place, I came home and you were just here. Second, is this your way of trying to get me into bed?" Abby smirks suggestively and looks smug at her teasing remark.

"ha!" You almost choke on your sip of wine as you realise what she said, you lean over the table, brush a stray hair out of her face and grab her collar pulling her closer to you. "If I wanted you in bed, we wouldn't be sitting at this table fully clothed, we'd be in your bed, naked and you'd be wondering how someone is that good with their tongue, ok?"

"Y-you think?" Abby goes bright red at your suggestive comment and pulls back to create some much needed distance between the two of you. She notices the growing smirk and knowing look in your eyes but chooses to look at her glass and take a big gulp instead of maintaining eye contact.

"Oh I know... But, that is not why I'm here so another day. I assume you’ve heard of the Metorinni cartel?" You watch as she nods her head. "Good, they have been leaching off of my business and my customers for years and I am just about done with their shit. I’m going to take them down, but for me to do that without starting a full blown war, trust me that would not end well for anyone, they’re savages, completely uncivilised, I need your help, I have all the information you need to get your men to take them down, then I can waltz in, kill their boss of course and take all of what’s theirs. What do you get out of this? Well first of all, the glory of bringing down one of the biggest, not the biggest, I’m the biggest, organised crime gangs in the country, the world even and not just that, I will offer you a very healthy cut of what I take from them. Oh and you’d be in my company and that can never be a downside."

Abby rolls her eyes at your arrogance. "So you want me, a detective, to help you, a deadly, ruthless drug lord, take over another gang that is contributing to a large amount of organised crime?"

"Yes exactly! Exciting right?" You smile as you genuinely feel excited at the prospect of taking down your biggest rivals once and for all.

"And there's no way I could ever be connected to you in all of this?"

"For you to be connected to me, your men would have to know of my existence, the only way they would find out about me is if you ever spilled so... are you going to tell?"

"No. I won't, but if you screw me out of the things you've promised me, I'll sell you out so quick, got it?"

"Don't worry darling, I'm a woman of honour. I keep my word and I'm saying that if you keep up your end of the bargain you will have enough money to quit your little job if that's what you please and if you don't... well you won't have to worry, you'll be dead." You sip your wine, keeping heavy eye contact. Abby's face is stony and matches yours. The tension in the room makes you both feel hot.

Abby takes another sip of her wine and nods it at you as she cracks a small smile. Your face breaks into a small grin also and you both chuckle.

"Right well... no pressure then." Abby says through her laughs.

"None at all. I trust your abilities, if I didn't I wouldn't have kept you around."

"Should I be concerned about the amount of times you've threatened my life?"

You laugh as she stares at you with a playful grin. "No darling, you are much too special to me to kill. It would be a waste. Maybe I will take you out to dinner to show my appreciation."

"Oh how kind."

"I know, I am so generous. I best be going. Let you get your beauty sleep." You stand as you finish the last of the wine in your glass and begin putting on your jacket. "When I need you, we'll meet and I'll give you everything you need for your part of the plan," you go to start walking to the front door but you stop just in front of her and put a hand on her shoulder. "But Abigail, not a word of this to a single soul. You understand I'm sure but if anyone ever caught wind of our deal, we'd both be finished. You more than me." You squeeze her shoulder as you say this and once again bend down and kiss her cheek. "I'll see you soon Abby. Dinner next time." You let yourself out the front door without a word and can't help but smile to yourself as you walk away.

Abby stays glued to her chair feeling the same sense of bewilderment she feels after every interaction with you. She's entranced and she can't even deny it anymore, she's so under your spell she's crossed a line that she can never go back from and she doesn't even care. All she can think about is the whirlwind that is you, your small kisses on her cheek, your intoxicating scent. Everything about you has her utterly captivated.

She feels the spot on her cheek where you kissed her, remnants of your lip gloss making it slightly sticky. She gulps down the rest of her wine and runs a hand over her face.

"I am so fucked."

[starwarsmum]

Day 7 sees the last of my light-hearted chapters for a bit 🥺

@maribat-calendar-events

Luka landed in Gotham and Marinette squealed as she launched herself at him. He had ostensibly come to spend time with his dad, but she had promised to meet him at the airport so they could spend time together too. 

“I can't believe you really came! I can't wait to show you around my favourite places- ooh, you have to come to my apartment too! It's so cute, honestly and-” she gasped and shook his arm “Are you staying for the gala at the end of the month?”

“Rockette, let him breathe,” Jagged chuckled, picking up Luka’s bag and throwing an arm around his son. “Good to see you, mate! Flight alright? Here, Pen says we're getting dinner somewhere fancy later, did you get enough sleep on the plane?”

Marinette kept her arm around Luka's waist as they walked towards the car, grinning widely. She loved living in Gotham but it was going to be ten times better having one of her best friends visit.

_ _ _

Marinette sat in her Gotham apartment, doodling a new design for a dress. She was invited to attend a gala in the following month, as Jagged's designer, and she wanted to wow everyone with whatever she ended up creating. Well, maybe not everyone needed to be wowed, which Luka rudely pointed out.

“You know, if you're trying to win Tim over you probably need to wear something less high society and more grunge,” he remarked, smirking when she threw a pencil at him. “I'm just saying, he asked for a hoodie as his first commission, not something chic. So if you really wanna grab his attention, you should go in ripped jeans.”

“Luka, he's still a guy who wears appropriate clothes to events,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. He snorted but didn't say anything else about it. She leaned towards him, tilting her page a little so he could see. “What do you think of this one?”

“You should just ask him out,” Luka said after a while. Marinette pulled a face but he only chuckled softly. “It’s not such a crazy idea, he's just a guy.”

“He's a cute guy! That understands when I ramble about fashion! You don't understand, I was a complete goner from the word go and I just want to date him,” she wailed, burying her face in her hands.

“Marinette, you're letting your melody get all chaotic again,” Luka chided, humming a light tune. “If you aren't willing to ask him yourself, you're just going to have to live with admiring him from afar.”

Marinette grumbled but didn't argue, sighing as she sketched another outline.

_ _ _

Tim gave a sigh as he dressed for the gala, glaring at the tie and suit he was expected to wear. He might have been born into the life but he very much wished he could be doing almost anything else. The one bright thought for the evening was that Jagged Stone had confirmed he was attending and Tim was going to get to meet him.

“Master Timothy, Master Bruce is ready to leave for the gala,” Alfred said through the door. Tim opened the door after dressing quickly, holding the tie in his hand rather than having it on already. As far as he was concerned, the longer he could wait to put it on the better. “Wonderful, I shall bring the car around for you both.”

The ride to the gala was quiet, both socialites working on various things as Alfred drove. Tim winced when he heard the loud voices of the paparazzi, swarming outside the door of their car. But he painted a smile onto his face and stepped out.

He stopped for a couple of photos which turned out to be fortunate because a car screeched up in place of Alfred's and out toppled a man with purple hair and an eccentric suit. Only years of training stopped Tim from having a complete fan moment and squealing alongside several attendees at the arrival of Jagged Stone.

“Alright everyone? Rock n roll! Been years since I went to one of these shindigs. This here is Penny, my assistant slash girlfriend, and one of my kids, Luka, along with his little friend, Marinette.”

The crowd dissolved into shouted questions but both Marinette and her blue haired friend sucked around Penny and Jagged to head for the entrance. Marinette looked cheerful, eyes bright with laughter as Luka steered her into the building.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Tim followed after them, catching up just inside the foyer to the ballroom. Marinette was dressed in what Tim assumed was her own creation but Luka was dressed almost informally. Envy dug into Tim: he wished he was a musician's son, unbothered about how others viewed him and able to dress comfortably.

“Oh! Hey Tim,” Marinette called, cheeks flushed. He gave her a smile, pushing away his bitter thoughts. “Luka, this is Tim, the guy I told you about? You know, I think this is the first time I've seen you in something other than jeans and a hoodie. You look much more intimidating in a suit.”

“Much more uncomfortable you mean,” Tim said, half jokingly pulling at his collar. “Nice to meet you, Tim Drake.”

“Pleasure's all mine Tim, I'm Luka,” came the relaxed reply. “Marinette's told me about you, you work with Bruce Wayne at Wayne Enterprises, right? She said you're clued into her secret life as the genius behind my dad's wardrobe.”

They were interrupted at that moment when the doors opened again and Jagged and Penny made it through. The pair immediately set upon the trio, Penny greeting Tim politely and Jagged throwing an arm around both Luka and Marinette.

“What's up little dude?” The star asked the wide eyes billionaire's son. Tim gaped at the man, not sure how to make himself say hello as one of his idols looked at him with a faintly amused expression. “Er, you do speak English, right?”

“Jagged, this is Tim, Marinette's new client? Slash her new boss,” Penny said, coughing to badly cover a laugh. But Tim didn't care, he was meeting Jagged Stone. 

“Ahhh, my new competition you mean,” Jagged said with mock severity in his voice. “Listen here mate, she does my stuff as a priority, you got it? I can't trust anyone else with my concert gear and album art.”

“Uh, yeah, totally got it,” Tim said, voice cracking slightly. He saw Marinette give an eye roll to Luka but, again, Jagged Stone. 

“Cool, then it's nice to meet you kid!”

Before he managed to say anything else, Jagged was steered into the ballroom proper, Marinette dragged with him. This left Tim with Luka, who seemed just as relaxed as Tim had assumed from his attire.

“So…Jagged Stone's your dad, huh?”

“Hah, yeah. Me and my twin sister, Juleka, were born to Anarka Couffaine, an old rock partner of Jagged's. I only found out he was my dad more recently, in my mid teens. Marinette's known him just as long as I have, which is probably why she gets on with him too.”

“I can't believe she designs for him,” Tim said, awe colouring his voice slightly. Luka laughed again, looking the way they had gone.

“Yeah, she's something special,” he said softly, and Tim looked at him a little harder. He was fairly certain there was more to the guy's feelings for Marinette than being best buddies - it was hard to misinterpret the adoration in his eyes. 

“Oh, uh, are you two…”

“No,” Luka said, his smile tinged with a little sadness. “Not any more. We dated as kids but it didn't work out. And she already told me she's moved on, so there's no point making things weird between us. I'm happy to be her friend if that's all she can offer me.”

Tim nodded, noting it mentally for his file on Marinette. It didn't fit the profile of a young villainess as far as he could see but he wondered if he was just very good at hiding it or if she really was just that innocent. But he didn't get a chance to wonder for long before they made their way into the ballroom and he was forced to mingle.

[cinnbar-bun]

Important Message

So... haha... been almost a month since I really did anything on this blog...

Listen, I'm gonna keep it straight to you guys, the months leading up to my hiatus were, to put it mildly, some of the most disgusting I've seen in my years as a fanfic writer and fandom enjoyer. This is a bit of a vent post, because, well, genuinely, I really hope the fandom can get better. I'm assuming most of the bad experiences I've had came through people a bit younger/newer to fandom or tumblr/fanfic culture in general. If you want just an update on the blog, I will be posting that shortly after this one.

I'm going to list out some of the shit I had to go through (that I am sure many fanfic writers, but more specifically, POC fandom creators go through). This is a long post. Yeah, also, this is obvious but TW FOR: Racism (including slurs), Islamaphobia, sexism, death threats, suicide threats, harassment, and just flat out horrible behavior.

I'm gonna go list some of the slurs I've been messaged or called, I'll even rate them for you guys <3:

Camel jockey: oooo, haven't heard that one before. get more creative, 3/10

camel fucker: nice, bit more crass, still not original. 3.5/10, just a bit funny

Terrorist: wow, dude, oh my gosh, I can't believe I've never heard that one living in post 9/11 America! Wow! 0/10 try harder

I also don't know where the assumption came from that I was a hijabi... I am not. Calling me a BMO? Pretty unique but sadly does not fit me. :(/10

This barely scratches the surface of what I have dealt with after having been open about my heritage. I'm sorry my very existence offends you and requires you to come out and send me shit about hoping my family dies or that my favorite character brutally hurts me. I have read your messages, and after long consideration, I have decided to no longer be Middle Eastern. Yep, that's right, guys, I am no longer MENA! Don't worry about my family history or anything, I just choose not to be that anymore. There, now you don't have to send me messages about hoping my family gets killed <3

Let's see what else we should tackle.

Should I tackle the fact that I've gotten messages from others to update a fic or answer a request or they will try to self harm or commit suicide?

Should I tackle the fact that some have tried to pressure or guess my sexuality (dude, what the fuck)?

Should I tackle how I got messages from others assuming my place because of my religion?

Should I tackle how I've gotten weird ass messages from people getting mad at me because how DARE I not write certain things during Ramadan?

Should I tackle those things?

I'll save you the hassle, no, I really shouldn't have had to, but fact is, the One Piece fandom has to be some of the worst I've seen and interacted with purposefully in a long time. And I was in the Hetalia fandom way back when. I should not have dumb shit about "liberating" me or oh, oh, oh, I love this one! People asking me if I have 'full armament haki' (I hope you genuinely, genuinely, get the fuck off your phone and go outside. Maybe have a walk and go talk to actual people.)

I've met some genuinely lovely, beautiful, and kind people. They truly are some of the most talented creators I've seen, and I'm grateful they chose to befriend me. The good does outweigh the bad. But the bad? Oh lord, I think you guys are genuinely some of the most disgusting pieces of shits I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Fanfic writers are not your slaves. I have a full time job, I have a full time life outside of my tumblr and my writing. I write when I want to because I like to write, and fanfic is a good creative outlet. You sending dumb messages crying about no updates after four days of me posting a new chapter, or threatening to harm yourself because of this is disgusting.

POC creators, especially, are not your fucking tokens. I'm not here to break down every racial stereotype for you. I'm not here to be sitting there mocked with crap I already hear in my outside life. And I sure as HELL am not here for fake support only to be called slurs and mocked the minute I don't do something for you. You are gross, you are not funny, you are genuinely a horrible person and if your ideal vision of humor boils down to the Instagram comments section, all I'm saying is, I'm not wishing you anything positive.

If you read this far, thank you. Truly. This was difficult to place and write down, but it needed to be said, because even to this day I still get messages similar to before.

Do better, One Piece fandom. Do better. Because you are only going to lose the fans who really care and who put effort into making things. How far can you harass fanfic creators, and especially POC ones, with your bullshit before you lose out on things?

I don't need to 'move on'. My identity and my existence is on a completely separate wave than so and so idk, liking a ship or a character. One is fake, and one is literally who I am. Putting false equivalencies to the issues within fandom because it makes you 'sad' is shitty.

I've only given you an idea of what I had to deal with. Now imagine this constantly by random people, both on tumblr and AO3, and then imagine that also in your daily life, on the media, in the news, in the music, on the radio, in the books- fucking everywhere. It's exhausting.

Just... fucking do better. Actually fucking listen to POC. I got nothing else to add that wouldn't just be me repeating the same shit I and others have tried to say.

Just be kind, for gods sake, and remember that creators are human, not the silly avatars we choose.

[melishade]

Attack on Prime Incorrect Quotes: The Saga Continues

Main Story

Part Whenever

Hanji: I'm tired.

Optimus: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?!

Hanji: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

==

Levi: I want you to know that I’m judging you

Megatron: Don’t you always judge me??

Levi: Yes, but you’ve been extra quirky today so I have to let you know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

==

Hanji: Would you rather kill Eren, or—

Megatron: Yes, kill him.

Armin: They didn’t say the other option.

Megatron: I don’t need to hear it.

Eren: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

===

Zeke: I can't believe you assassinated the Commander of Marley!

Megatron: Well, 'assassinated' implies it was politically motivated. I killed him because he was a dick, so technically I murdered him.

Zeke: That's not better!

===

Survey Corps: Can we ask you for a favor?

Optimus: I would literally die for you but continue.

Levi: We have got to talk about you starting sentences that way.

==

Beloved Timeline

Optimus: What am I supposed to do all day while you're off in Marley?

Elita:...I don't know? What do you normally do when I'm gone?

Optimus *Sniffing and tears up*: Wait for you to get back.

==

War Timeline

Hanji: We have fun, don’t we, Doc?

Ratchet: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

Jack: Wow, Miko, looks like you've been dethroned.

==

Armin: I...I think we have to kill Eren.

Megatron:

===

Pieck: So...how did you two meet?

Optimus glancing over at Megatron: ...You know, we actually legally can't answer that.

===

Beloved Timeline

Elita: Go on! Shout, scream, say something! Stunned as Optimus puts his servo on her cheek.

Optimus to Elita: You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.

Survey Corps:

==

Megatron: I don’t think you apologizing to me is a good idea.

Armin: Uh…why?

Megatron: Because when you do that, I inevitably feel bad and forgive you, and I really want to be mad.

Armin: But why would you want to be mad? I hate being angry, it ruins everything.

Megatron: Exactly. Ruining everything is kind of my thing, I can’t lose it.

==

Peaceful Timeline

Maria: Oshern, can you do me a favor?

Oshern: Of course, mo leanbh (my young child). Always.

Maria: Cool. Can you stop denying your feelings and tell Mama (Ymir) you love her — like love love her in that kind of way so the two of you can stop pining?

Oshern, spit-takes

Optimus: Maria, what?

Maria: Focus, Papa. This is important.

===

Megatron: I need help.

Levi: Two words.

Megatron I bet they won't be helpful.

Levi: Your. Problem.

Megatron: I was right.

===

(Based on a prompt of Hanji experimenting with dark energon and seeing Unicron)

Unicron: Hey, I bought your soul last month and-

Hanji: No returns.

Unicron: Please, it’s making me sad.

===

A million years later after the Dark Timeline Epilogue

Optimus: You're worth every tear I've cried since you died. You've always been.

Megatron: Optimus...

Optimus: *almost crying* So don't tell me you're not worth my tears, because you are. You're worth the tears of relief, and, and happiness. I missed you everyday.

Megatron: *hugs Optimus*

Optimus: *crying* I missed you, I'm happy, these are, these are tears, they're—

Megatron: *holds Optimus tighter* Happy tears. I know brother. I know now.

===

Arcee: Where's Buckethead?

Hanji: Don't worry, I'll find him.

Hanji, shouting: Optimus sucks!

Megatron, distantly: How fragging dare you!

Hanji: Told you he still cared about him.

====

Optimus dealing with another death/respawn situation: What's up guys, I'm back.

Hanji, crying: What the- you can't be here. You're dead. I literally saw you die.

Optimus: Death is a social construct.

====

Eren: I'm not traumadumping.

Eren: I'm telling you my villain origin story.

Arcee: That's fragging worse!

====

Levi: Someone will die -

Hanji: Of fun!

===

Random Marleyan: Wait, you're gay? Are you fucking serious?

Optimus: I'm bisexual, actually. And yes.

====

Peaceful Timeline

Ymir: ...You came...

Optimus: You called.

===

Megatron: The dwarf is telling me I'm going to die.

Armin:...Are...are you sick?

Megatron smirking: No, he just doesn't like me.

Levi: IMMA FUCK YOU UP ON TUESDAY!

===

Hanji: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight.

Optimus: Actually Hanji, after all these weeks, I just sort of go with it.

===

Eren: Arcee, I just realized something. I had a bad childhood.

Arcee: Yeah, I know.

Eren: What do you mean you know?

Arcee: Look at you.

Eren: What do you mean look at me?

Arcee: Look at how you stand! People with good childhoods don't stand like that.

===

Arcee: *speaking Cybertronian*

Eren: I know, I know.

Wheeljack baffled: You speak Cybertronian?

Eren: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language.

===

*at Megatron and Eren's funeral in the Dark Timeline*

Armin: Optimus...it... it was a beautiful service.

Optimus: *staring up at thunderclouds* I'm glad it didn't rain. They hated the rain. *reaches up to wipe away tears* Why do I feel this way Armin?

Armin: Because you loved them, Optimus.

===

Hanji to Optimus: You are my best friend! If I'm dying, you're dying with me! Ain’t no choice!

===

Peaceful Timeline

Megatron to Maria: I was never afraid until you showed up.

===

Eren: When have I ever done something rash or irresponsible?

Optimus channeling his inner archivist: I keep a list. It’s alphabetized.

[teaberrii]

Chapter Twelve: Not Alone

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You feel something brush against your leg. So, you look down and see Alhaitham walking around your legs, purposefully rubbing against you whenever he can. Then, as if knowing he has your attention, he looks up and meows with a little smile. That's when you hear your apartment buzzer.

As soon as you answer it, you hear Lumine say, “Oh, wow. She's really home.”

“Told you so. My hunch is always right.” Then, Childe looks into the camera and waves. “Hiya, sweet cheeks! May we come in?”

Alhaitham doesn’t need to look at the screen to know it’s Childe. Besides the voice, only one person calls you by that nickname.

As soon as you open the door, you ask, “What are you two doing here?”

"I went out for a drive, and fate brought me to Lulu"—Childe notices Lumine's small eye roll—"and now we're here!"

“That explains a lot,” you deadpan.

Lumine smiles at Alhaitham. “Hey! It’s Mr. Kitty!”

"Mr. Kitty?" Childe asks. "It looks more like a Mr. Cat to me." He looks at you. "I didn't know you got a cat."

“Yeah… I got him recently.”

“Well, he seems to really like you,” Childe says, watching Alhaitham gently rub his cheek against your leg.

You bend over and pick him up.

“By the way, how’d your date go?” Lumine asks. “Did anything… exciting happen?”

You aren’t going to spill that you and Alhaitham just had your first kiss. You can only imagine the details Lumine wants to hear, and having Childe around won’t help.

Alhaitham meows and Lumine smiles at him. "Ooh, don't tell me Mr. Kitty has all the juicy details. Did they kiss?" You look at Alhaitham just as he looks up at you. Your noses almost touch, and your heart nearly stops. "I didn't see this little guy the last time Mom and I were here… did you go back for him, or did he come back to see you?"

You smile. “I guess it was a little bit of both.” Then, you look at your sister. “Anyways, enough about me." You put Alhaitham on the counter. "What about you?”

“Me?”

“You two just decided to hang out together for the night?”

Lumine and Childe glance at each other. “It really was a coincidence that we bumped into each other!” she insists.

Childe chuckles. “I got lucky.”

“Hey, since we’re here…” Lumine claps her hands together. “Should we go say hi to Alhaitham? He’s home, isn’t he?”

You glance at Alhaitham. Yeah, you could say he’s home.

Childe smiles. “Lumine told me you’re neighbours with Mr. Hottie now. Look at you livin’ the life.”

"What can I say?" you say sarcastically. "It's like I'm the protagonist of my own scripts." Then, you quickly add, "But, uh, he's a bit busy right now."

“With what?”

“...Meetings.”

If Childe and Lumine are suspicious, they don’t say anything. You think it’s a believable enough excuse. The man is a CEO, after all.

Then, Childe walks over and leans over to stare at Alhaitham. “...Or, is he right here?”

You look from Childe to Alhaitham and back to Childe. “What are you talking about?”

Childe laughs and leans upright. “It’s a funny story, actually..."

“...What? Is that a story idea you came up with?” Childe asked, tossing him bottled water.

Ayato easily caught the drink. “It does sound like an idea born from fantasy, doesn’t it?”

“What I’m wondering is why you’re talking to me about it.”

“I was just curious if you’ve ever heard of such a thing happening in real life.”

“People turning into cats? Of course not!” Ayato opened his bottled water, and Childe couldn’t help but ask, “...Have you?”

Ayato’s mysterious smile only made Childe more curious.

"People turning into cats?" Lumine asks. "That can't happen!"

Your eyes meet Alhaitham's, knowing exactly what's running in each other's minds. It might just be a meaningless conversation. But is it possible that Ayato knows someone who's cursed? Or... is it himself?

"Wouldn't it be interesting if it can?" Childe asks.

"Well, I don't think you would be able to look at cats the same way again," you mumble. Then, you look at the clock. “Hey, it’s getting late.”

“I guess that’s our cue to leave, Lulu.”

"Well, I don't have to, you know," Lumine says. Then, she smiles at you. "I could sleep over!"

Before you can answer, Childe huffs. “And I thought we could grab some an evening snack together before I dropped you off.”

“You should’ve brought a snack before you came here,” you say.

Childe laughs. “I promise I’ll bring one for you next time.”

You look at Lumine. “...You should go with him.”

“Why?”

“...You have work tomorrow, don’t you?” you ask. “Your place is closer than mine.”

Lumine narrows her eyes. Childe pats her head and says, “Sis just wants some private time with Mr. Kitty.”

Well, that’s one way to put it.

Alhaitham nuzzles his head against your arm until you pick him up again.

“Or… maybe it’s the other way around,” Childe continues.

Lumine pouts slightly. “...Fine.”

As your sister leaves your apartment, you say, “Don’t keep her out late, Childe.”

“I won’t.”

Childe has just finished putting on his shoes when you ask, “By the way, did something happen?”

He turns around. “What makes you ask that?”

"...Do you remember the day you randomly showed up at my house?" Childe slightly looks away from you, and you know you're onto something. "It was the day you fought with your parents."

“I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“It was the first time I saw you cry.”

Something about that statement makes him stiffen.

Lumine pokes her head back inside. “Um, hellooo? Are we going or what?” She looks from Childe to you and back to Childe. “Is everything okay? Why do you two look kinda serious?”

"It's nothing," you say. "I told him to drive you straight home."

Childe smiles. "And I told her I wanted to keep you to myself for a little longer."

Lumine nudges him. “As long as there’s food.”

“You’re way too easily convinced,” you deadpan.

“Alright, we’re leaving,” Childe says with a wave. He also makes sure to wave to Alhaitham. “Take care of her, Mr. Kitty.”

You lift Alhaitham’s paw and make him wave, even though his deadpan expression says otherwise.

Once you and Alhaitham are alone, you put him on the couch. You'd like to tease him a little longer, but you'd like to ask about what he thought about the conversation between Childe and Ayato. So, you lean down and kiss his fluffy, little head. 

Soon, Alhaitham is dressed, and you and he are sitting on the couch.

"Do you think we should talk to Ayato?" you ask.

"It would be a little strange if we grilled him on a conversation that might be meaningless."

That's true.

"But, with how things are going, I am a little curious if he really does know anything." When you look at him curiously, he says, "The timing isn't the only thing that's changed. The transformation back to my normal self was also different."

“You mean… you usually don’t just poof into a cat?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “It’s a painful process.”

A painful process? Now, you’re imagining bones shrinking and breaking, and you aren’t sure if you really want to know. Maybe this is why he wanted privacy.

“Turning back isn’t as painful as turning into a cat,” he continues.

So, why are things different now?

Alhaitham pulls you close. “...We might be close to getting answers, but there’s one thing I want to make sure of.”

“I’m all ears.”

But, instead of talking, he leans in and kisses you, slowly and softly at first and then with a swift gradation of intensity that makes your world spin. Your back hits the couch with Alhaitham on top of you, his insistent mouth sending shivers through your nerves. Your body melts against his as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer.

Finally, when you two pull away, he says, “...Even when this curse ends, I want to make sure you are mine.”

You smile. This time, you say, “I’m all yours.”

◆◆◆

Back in the car, Lumine wonders if she should ask. She'd overheard the conversation between you and Childe. Your hunch is the same as hers. Something must've happened. But would it be intrusive if she asked? What if he got mad at her? What if—

“Is something bothering you?" The car roars to life, and Childe looks at her. “You've been quiet.”

Lumine’s not looking at him when she says, “...Well, I overheard what you and Sis were talking about.”

“Are you worried about me?”

Lumine turns to him. “Of course I am. You’re my friend.”

Childe smiles and ruffles her hair. “You’re cute, Lulu. Have I ever told you that?”

No. Never. Actually, Lumine had always thought he saw her as a kid or a little sister.

“...So, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Another time.”

Is it because he doesn’t think she would be mature enough to help him? Would… he have told you if you were the one who asked instead?

“Oh, fine,” Lumine says dramatically, “if you don’t want my godly advice.”

The car is back on the road now, and Childe glances at her. “Godly advice, huh?” Then, he chuckles. “...Then, let me ask you. Who is more important? Yourself… or your family?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“If you’re forced to make that kind of decision, would you choose yourself?”

"That's a terrible question!"

"Maybe that's the reason why I asked," Childe says.

Lumine sighs. "Well, I guess it depends on the context.”

“Context, huh?”

“It’s not like you to ask such serious questions."

Once the car slowly rolls to a stop, Childe lightly pinches her nose. “That’s ‘cause you don’t know me well enough.”

“I’ve known you for years,” Lumine deadpans. “Don’t give me that.”

Childe chuckles softly. “Just because you’ve known someone for years doesn’t mean you know every side of them.”

Lumine looks at him. Childe looks back.

“...What’s on your mind now?” he asks.

“...Nothing," she mutters, looking away.

“Oh? Really?”

“Why are you so curious?” Lumine asks flatly.

"Because you intrigue me."

Lumine turns back. “W-what is that supposed to mean?”

"It means what it means. You're interesting, Lumine."

"In what ways?" she asks skeptically.

"You used to have everything written on your face. I read you like an open book. Now, it's getting harder to read you."

"It means I'm not a kid anymore." 

Childe smiles. "You're right. You aren't. So, would you like to be my date to Zhongli's wedding?"

"Yeah, I'm not, so"—her eyes widen—"Wait. What did you just say?"

"Would you like to be my date to Zhongli's wedding?" Childe drawls.

After regaining her composure, she looks ahead. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to go with you."

Lumine glances at him, and he gives her a quick wink. 

"...Let me think about it," she says quietly.

"Well, I guess I'll have to be patient."

"Maybe if you grabbed us some takoyaki, I'll come to a decision sooner."

Childe laughs. "Alright, but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"Your sister expects me to drive you straight home. Looks like we're taking a little detour. So"—he slightly smirks—"this little rendezvous is our little secret."

Lumine smiles. "You're lucky I'm good at keeping secrets."

◆◆◆

“It looks like you and Aether have gotten close.”

Not long after you and Alhaitham left, the group had also left his grandfather's room. Ayato spent the rest of the day with Ayaka. Of course, he also got to know your brother a little better. Now that Aether is back in his room, it's just the siblings.

“Are you jealous?” Ayaka teases.

“I’m glad you made a friend.”

Ayaka holds his brother’s stare, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“You should’ve told me how much she looked like her,” he says.

“...I didn’t think you would believe me.”

The silence drags on until…

“Are you going to tell her?” she asks.

“About?”

“Your curse.”

Ayato sighs softly. Should he tell you about his curse? You look so much like her, his late fiancée who supposedly cursed him. It happened spontaneously one night. An innocent kiss quickened his heartbeat. Then, a sudden sharp pain in his chest, and he knew something was wrong. He’d clutched his chest and doubled over in pain.

And then it happened.

Pointy ears. A tail. Four paws.

When the pain was over, his fiancée gasped. “Oh… My God.”

It's strange. Ever since that day, he'd become a cat without explanation whenever she kissed him. But even after she passed, it happened again, except with a new girlfriend who is now an ex. That's when he knew that the curse stayed with him. So, ever since then, he hasn't kissed anyone. Not even for his work.

"...I have no reason to tell her," Ayato says. "And I barely know her."

“But, aren’t you curious? What if… you don’t turn? Wouldn’t that mean the curse is broken?”

Ayaka's shoulders fell as she exhaled softly. "We can think of something then. Can't we?"

Ayato knows she's worried about him, but that doesn't mean he will ask you to kiss him. Aren't you Alhaitham's girlfriend? Besides, there's nothing to tie you to this curse besides that you look eerily similar to his ex fianceé, the person who started it all.

“That’s being selfish, Ayaka.”

Ayaka frowns slightly. "...Then, what are you going to do?" When Ayato looks away, his sister crosses her arms. "This might be the one chance to break the curse, and you're not doing anything about it."

Ayato sighs. Maybe his sister has a point. But… what is he going to say to you? Would you believe him? It sounds bizarre, like something out of a fantasy novel. He just met you. He doesn't need you to think he's completely bonkers by telling you he turned into a cat from a kiss.

“...I’ll think about it, okay? I just don’t want to scare her.”

Ayaka sighs. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, she asks, "When will you think about yourself for a change?"

◆◆◆

“Oh, my God! You look stunning!”

It's finally the Awards Night, and Candace and Dehya had come over hours beforehand to help you prepare. Dehya had convinced you to go for cat-eye makeup and a matte, dark red lip. It's definitely different and bolder than what you're used to, but it looks so good on you that you won't mind trying this look again.

“I actually didn’t think I could pull it off,” you admit.

“Well, anyone can pull off a look as long as they have confidence.”

You smile at Candace in the mirror.

Just as you and your friends leave your apartment, Alhaitham opens his door. When you see each other, both of you stop. Alhaitham can't stop staring. That black dress. That makeup look. He already thinks you're beautiful, but seeing this different makeup look on you takes his breath away. He instantly smiles and walks up to you. When he does, you catch a whiff of his cologne, which smells like a delicate mix of citrus and cedar. He's wearing a suit, but he adds a dark green tie and a jade diamond pin on the right side of his black blazer this time.

“Lost for words, are you, Haitham?” Candace asks.

You and Alhaitham meet each other's eyes. You've agreed to keep your relationship a secret, as his role as your company CEO will be publicly revealed. But as Dehya and Candace already have an idea, you and Alhaitham agreed to let them in on the little secret earlier today.

"Wait, wait," Candace said with a large smile. "So… Haitham made the first move?"

“Wait for me!” Dehya screamed from the washroom. “I need to hear the story, too!”

After you told them about the kiss, Candace clapped slowly, and Dehya’s jaw dropped. “Damn. That man knows what he’s doing,” she said.

“I’m happy for you,” Candace said, smiling at you. “You two look good together.”

Dehya put a hand on her hip. “We need a ladies’ night to celebrate!”

You and Candace look at each other. “Hey, it’s an excuse to celebrate,” you said.

Candace laughed. “Agreed!”

Alhaitham walks up to you and kisses your head. “...You look beautiful.”

You don't see it, but Dehya is shaking Candace. Candace has a slightly mischievous smile as she watches you and Alhaitham.

You chuckle. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.”

When your eyes meet again, you’re thinking the same thing. You want to kiss him. He wants to kiss you. But, of course, there’s a time and place for everything.

“Alright, stop making the rest of us feel like single pringles,” Dehya says.

While waiting for the elevator, Dehya and Candace are talking amongst themselves while you and Alhaitham stand behind them. Then, he glances at you.

“You seem a little nervous,” he says quietly.

Tonight is the night you're changing Alhaitham back… in an almost public space. It's a little nerve-wracking as many people are supposed to be in attendance. What if something goes wrong? What if somehow you got caught?

You feel his hand in yours when you look at him and ask, “Aren’t you?”

You don’t get a chance to hear his reply as the elevator arrives.

◆◆◆

You and Alhaitham arrive separately. As soon as he does, he’s whisked away to meet important people. You head to the lounge, almost blinded by the expensive-looking chandelier. Then, someone taps your shoulder.

“You look lovely tonight.”

“Ayato!” you say. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He slips out an invitation from his blazer pocket. “Here’s proof I didn’t sneak my way in here.” Then, he gives you a quick wink. You smile politely just as he looks around. “I thought you’d be coming with Alhaitham.” When he sees the look on your face, he lowers his voice and says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it a secret?”

“For now, yes,” you say.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” But then, he holds out his arm. “However, as a friend, may I escort you inside?”

“My, everyone looks so flashy today.”

Ayato turns around, and you look past him to see Childe and Tighnari.

“How would you like to be escorted inside by not one but three good-lookin’ men in suits?” Childe asks you.

“Tempting,” you say. “But… I think I can escort myself inside.”

As Ayato watches you leave, he feels… conflicted. The more he looks at you, the more he’s reminded of her. Is there a reason why you two crossed paths? Ayato doesn’t believe in soulmates or fate, but the resemblance is uncanny. If his ex really started his cat curse, are you really the person to break it?

“Is something wrong?”

Tighnari’s voice snaps Ayato out of these thoughts. “No. It's nothing.”

“You were staring a little too intently at our award-winning screenwriter just now,” Childe says.

Ayato smiles. “Ah… well, she just… reminded me of someone I knew.”

“Oh?”

“...Care to share?” Childe asks.

“Perhaps another time,” Ayato says. “It’s not a story that should be shared during a celebration like this.”

“That’s fair.” Childe walks behind Ayato and Tighnari and puts a hand on their back. “Well, shall we go enjoy ourselves, gentlemen?”

Throughout the evening, Ayato has you and the conversation with Ayaka on his mind. There's no way you'd believe him. There's also no way to show you. This is getting a little annoying. Why did you have to look so much like her? Ayato is about to grab a chocolate-covered strawberry off a dessert platter when he hears someone approaching him from behind.

"Do you have a minute, Ayato?"

His heartbeat quickens upon hearing your voice. He turns around. "Sure."

You walk up beside him and grab a fruit tart. He turns back to the table just as you say, “I… heard from Childe that you asked him something about people turning into cats.”

He freezes for a second but ultimately grabs the strawberry onto his plate. “...It does make for an interesting conversation starter, doesn't it?"

“A little too interesting, I would say,” you say with a small smile. “Is that a story idea you’re cooking up?”

Ayato laughs. “You could use it if you’d like. I won’t ask for royalties.” Then, a little quieter, “What did Childe tell you?”

“Nothing much. He said you’d asked if he’d heard about something like that happening in real life.”

“Then, may I ask you the same question?”

You glance at him. "Would you be willing to answer my question in return if I answer you?"

“Certainly.”

You put the last piece of dessert on your plate. Then, you turn to him. “...I have.”

Ayato’s heart almost stops.

“...You have?”

You nod.

When you say nothing more, Ayato figures, you aren't going to elaborate on your answer. But he, of course, will also keep his end of the deal.

“Now it’s my turn to ask,” you say, “Do you know someone like that?”

Are you humouring him? Ayato never imagined that he would be having this conversation with you.

He looks you in the eyes and says, “I do.”

You're iffy to push for more. But you're dying to know. Who is it? And… how much does this person know about this curse? Your phone lightly buzzes, a gentle reminder that it's almost time for Alhaitham to turn.

You take a short, small breath. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to meet someone."

Right when you turn around, you feel someone grab your wrist. Startled, you spin back and see Ayato. But it’s his words that take you by complete surprise.

“Don’t go.”

Chapter Thirteen

Tag list: @suoshiii @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @lordbugs @sakiimeo @ash-in-lavender @ceylestia @forsh4dow @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence @chichibleeps @sunsethw4 @hjjks @tanspostsblog @nqctre @just-simping-over-genshin @uchihaeirin @vynbin @ayanokomu @dksfl920 @alatus1808 @itztaki @thetwinkims @imkaaayy @angeilix @starlighttotheleft @letthewindlead

[athena-willowthorne]

ok I know I'm going to be drowned out as one of many and I don't want to be the guy feeding the public frenzy right now but I want to offer my thoughts on the watchertv situation.

I've been a fan of ryan and shane for almost 6 years. I got into them when I was around 12-13, and now, at 18 years old, they've occupied a fairly significant part of the last third of my life. I feel reasonably confident in saying I've watched everything they've ever made, from buzzfeed and watcher, and when they went out to found watcher, I was abundantly happy to welcome steven into my parasocial love for them. I feel like I've grown up with them, and going off to college next year, it was never a question in my mind that they'd follow with me. I mean, I bought their unsolved book the second it was announced, and I even snagged a ghost files shirt and a professor plush when he was rereleased. I took the professor to the lizzie borden house for my 18th birthday overnight, and wow was that an expense, but I've wanted to go ever since middle school when I stumbled across buzzfeed unsolved for the first time. in short, losing them is like losing a constant presence in my life, a cherished presence, no matter how ridiculously parasocial that makes me sound.

when I heard about watchertv, I was crushed. in the past couple days, I've jumped from betrayal to desperation to grief to bitter anger. but I think I've landed now in a place where those make more sense to me. I agree wholeheartedly with so many commenters on every platform right now. they're just like me, feeling let down and disappointed by the people we've idealized, and gotten used to seeing for free. but I also understand exactly how this idea came about, I know what it's like to feel backed into a corner on something, forced to make a hard choice where it feels like only a radical shift will save you. we as fans were there for the three of them, their dynamic. but their dreams don't match up. they want freedom to make what they want, and they feel passionate about growth to tv quality. that's what they're aspiring to, I do genuinely think that.

I won't sit here and go on about the different takes people have made about steven's masterminding or shane's reluctance. the bitter stuff that's been said feels very harsh. but I can't condemn the people saying things out of anger that aren't targeted. it's ok for them to feel upset. sure, maybe it sucks that it has to come out on a public forum like the internet but it's valid nonetheless. but on their end, that's got to hurt. I hope so dearly that watchertv succeeds, even if it has to change a lot to do that. a subscription service isn't what we want, but it's what they believe will let them make the quality content they want to. that's worth pursuing, and I care about them so much that I want them to go for it.

I hate that I can't follow them into this next chapter. and I'm sure a lot of other people are too, and however they choose to feel that is perfectly ok. but their creative satisfaction and happiness does not depend on me, and it shouldn't be limited by what I can or am willing to do.

anyway my heart goes out to them truly. I'll miss them in college, and probably forever, and hopefully our paths cross again. but even if we don't, I'm happy for the memories I was able to make, I hope every other upset fan feels the same way eventually too :))

[fandomlurker333]

Fundamental Forces (Challengers Fanfic)

Author's Note: Wow! It has been a LONG time since I wrote fanfiction. I can't believe it's Challengers (2024) that got me to do it, but I LIVE for Patrick's chaotic Bi energy, Art's hidden vindictiveness, Tashi's intolerance for bullshit, and a messily drawn triangle where the angles are trying REALLY hard to touch.

This is basically 900 words of character study, but it's got dashes of both Patrick/Tashi and Patrick/Art. I hope it scratches someone's itch.

Patrick knows he’s a fucking irredeemable piece of shit because sometimes he wishes his mother had died of breast cancer. Or that his dad had been a raging alcoholic — the kind that shouted obscenities and backhanded him across the face when he’d pissed him off. Sometimes he wishes that any of the Nannies he had until he was 11 years old had touched him wrong. Or that he’d killed his first high school girlfriend driving tipsy after junior prom.

Instead, Patrick had a perfectly normal childhood.

His mother brought flawless cupcakes to every school bake sale, was punctual for every parent-teacher conference.

His Dad worked a little too much, maybe, drank one scotch too many on hard days. He always knew it and always put himself to bed early when he did.

His parents were together seven years before they had him. Married, in their late twenties. He was part of the plan.

Both come from money. They like each other well enough. They have a stable, comfortable arrangement that suits them. Perfectly normal.

There’s no explanation for why Patrick came out wrong.

&&&

Tennis is all he's good at.

He's no good at school.

Or saying nice things to people.

Or staying in one place for very long.

It's just tennis.

That's his one good trick.

&&&

He’s sitting in a classroom with eighteen other kids and one of the girls has already taken her test up to Ms. Larken’s desk. He knows because he saw her shoes — sparkly green jelly sandals. They glitter in the sunlight that slants through the window.

So, Kelly has already taken her test up and Patrick’s palms begin to sweat. He’s been staring at the same question for 19 minutes. They have 30 minutes to complete the exam.

He doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t know for sure. He knows the formula. He recognizes the triangles. He’s flipped his paper onto the blank side and redone the calculations over and over, fit the numbers together in every way imaginable. But he still doesn’t know the answer. Not for sure.

He’d sped through the first half — questions one to twenty-two. They were easy. This one should be easy too. It’s all the same section of the textbook he’d memorized. They talked about it in class three days ago. He knows…

He doesn’t know the answer. There’s something hot and sharp squeezing in his chest. The air around him feels so thick, he could choke.

He flicks his eyes up to the clock again and it’s been 23 minutes.

It’s not enough time. He’ll get it wrong. Every question matters.

Dread pools in his belly. Blood pounds in his temples, behind his ears, in the hollow of his throat.

The graphite tip of his pencil snaps beneath his thumb.

At the 30-minute mark, Ms. Larken asks them to bring up their tests.

Patrick rips his in half and stuffs the unanswered questions in his mouth. He stumbles out of class with no direction, chewing the paper until it becomes a mass of wet pulp on his tongue.

He swallows it.

&&&

Patrick’s parents put him in a boarding school that allows personalized curriculums.

He almost never takes tests.

So, he’s almost never terrified of getting it wrong.

&&&

Tashi Duncan is everything Patrick wishes he was for real — confident, irresistible, commanding, magnetic, and more than anything…a winner.

He wants to be her as much as he wants to fuck her. That is some confusing shit right there.

She’s a firecracker. He can’t hold her in his hands for long. She burns too hot, too fast, too bright. Despite himself, he loves feeling the spark and heat of flame bite at his fingertips.

He loves her. Or he thinks he does, in whatever way a 19-year old self-obsessed fuck up can love a person.

Being with her is like jumping feet first off a moving train. She exhilarates and scares him in equal measure.

He knows the likelihood of survival is not great. She may destroy him, but he’ll relish screaming all the way down.

Patrick thinks he remembers feeling something similar when he first met Art. Not nearly as violent, but just as disorienting.

A sense of inevitability, of falling helplessly into whatever they were — no control, no foresight, no time to change a damn thing.

Making Art his best friend felt natural; liking him, wanting to be around him, was innate. He’s never thought about something less than he did the first time he slung an arm around Art’s neck and reeled him in.

His 11-year-old self wouldn’t have described it this way, but in hindsight, Art was immediately necessary to him. Like, the moment they met was the moment Patrick recognized he had always been part of the fabric of his reality.

Tashi feels like centrifugal force — she hurls him away from his center, pushes him off kilter, makes him adjust to find his balance over and over. He likes being kept on his toes. He likes to imagine them balancing on the tightrope together — her as graceful and agile as she is on the court, him scrambling to keep afloat with her — all spit, grit, and dogged determination.

Art, though, Art has always felt like gravity. He grounds Patrick’s flightiness, weighs him down in the here and now. He’s the constant, steady force that keeps Patrick from drifting off into space, floating aimlessly with no direction. It’s easy to take him for granted, to forget how important he is because he is always always there.

Until he isn’t.

Neither of them are.

And Patrick is lost.

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Can we get some more Creme Brulee Cookie content, that cookie's a power house in my team- I was thinking since there were hints about him and Linzer Cookie being in a past relationship, what if y/n Cookie did like CB but didn't pursue him bc of his history with Linzer?

I have requests from late December, how embarrassing. I'm such a bad writer for not feeding you guys for like 3 months-

Old Photos

Tw: murder

You dejectedly sigh as you stare at the ceiling of your room. Thoughts filling your mind: negative ones. You didn't like the thought of Linzer with Crème Brûlée. But who were you to interfere? She was clearly more valuable to him than you ever could be. Even if you were his biggest supporter.

But it still hurt. You wanted to be with him. Cheer him on for his performances; ensure he was well cared for. Sure you could do so as his friend. But you wanted to be much more than friends.

You didn't have the place to interfere. You shouldn't interfere. It's wrong.

Those sentences repeated in your head as you lay on your bed. You wanted sleep to overcome you, but your mind seemed unwilling to let go though. You needed to move on. There was no point in clinging to a future that wasn't even possible.

Until you hear a distant knock, from your front door. You turn your head in the direction of the hallway, before slowly rising from your bed and walking out the door. You glance at the living room clock: 2:43 AM. Who would be knocking on the door at this hour?

You saunter to the door, looking through the glass. Your eyes widen slightly: it's Crème Brûlée. What was he doing here? You open the door, and immediately you're encased in a hug far too tight.

...Was your desperate mind imagining his embrace? Oh, how pathetic you are.

"Crème Brûlée? What are you doing here?" You utter, your voice scratchy from not getting out of bed for the last 3 hours. Why was he holding you so harshly? Did something happen?

"I love you. I swear, I can't believe you looked at my photos from three years ago." He bluntly states, his tone almost seemed as if he was offended. His hair brushes against your cheek as he buries his head into your shoulder.

"What?" You blink. Absolutely frozen. Did your mind just manifest your biggest wish in front of your face?

The door is still open, the cold breeze freezing your body only in sleeping clothes. He speaks once more, now his tone less brash and more soft, "Darling. My darling. Linzer is hardly a thought in my mind now. I've realized you are much better suited for me." His head nuzzles your shoulder, holding you against him.

"Wait. Wait. Does that mean..." You trail off, not having the confidence to even say it. It's impossible. Your life had never gone right when it came to love, so why would it go right at this moment?

"I love you. I've loved you for the last 3 years. Now stop hiding from me." He nudged you over the couch, not giving you a moment before coddling you. He should become a koala at this point.

You wanted to say more. It doesn't matter though. You were too ecstatic to even begin forming words. Finally, your mind calms and you fall asleep: exhaustion taking over. He was warm. Like you imagined him to be.

An hour passes by, before a sudden grin forms on the usually quiet Crème Brûlée. He caresses your head gingerly, loving the feel of you in his grasp.

"Finally, you've come to realize. I should have killed that terrible Linzer earlier, otherwise, we would have been happier earlier. No matter, we can be where we were supposed to be...together." He closes his eyes too as he continues to snuggle you.

You were too blinded by your love to notice why Linzer never was over at his house since three years ago.

——————————————————

Wow! I got this one done in one sitting. I'm so proud of myself. Usually, it takes multiple sittings to do requests. My attention span is non-existent.

- Celina

[jmdbjk]

Mid-year recalibration

It's been a year since Festa Dinner 2022. A LOT HAS HAPPENED SINCE THEN.

And on January 1, 2023, I posted my "predictions" for the year. "Predictions" in quotes because most everything I write is sort of slightly unserious, not to be taken TOO seriously, begs for you to please use your common sense... also I haz a little sarcasm dripping here and there when I express my thoughts. Drip, drip.

So let's see the status of my "predictions":

Solo albums... wellll, I sort of got that right, Jimin's FACE was released before Yoongi's D-Day. We're still waiting for Tae and Jungkook. RM keeps putting off enlistment to work on new music. I'm gonna have to drag him by the ear to training camp... get yer ass in there so you can come back sooner than later!! But we did get to see him for Festa and I'm thankful for that.

New prediction: Jungkook comes through with a chart topper that doesn't involve a collab.

Speaking of Tae, I said he'd do more acting before music and though it's not really acting, he's been in a few reality TV shows: "In the Soop: Friendcation" and "Jinny's Kitchen." There are rumors he was spotted on the set of a K-drama and now possibly he was in Spain for a movie...or was that for an upcoming solo MV? Surely he'll have at least a little bit of music before he enlists? Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing him actually acting in a drama... we wait.

New prediction: Piano bar listening party for his solo release.

Military enlistment... wow so far I've struck out. Joon is still hanging around. Yoongi has extended his world tour (which I'm happy to say I've been to a concert). And HOBI IS ALREADY ENLISTED....

😭

So 3 strikes I'm out because obviously their enlistment timing is unpredictable. Right now I'm just hoping that by May 2024 (yes almost a year from now) they'll all be in so we can have a New Year group reunion on Dec. 31, 2025. Of course, I hope they go much sooner though it kills me to know we have to watch them enlist again and again.

My other predictions were hit and miss:

Yoongi did cut his hair so I was wrong about that. Also sad. I loved his long hair. And this NBA ambassadorship came outta left field. The D-Day world tour was the bomb he dropped on us, his big project. Oh well, guess there won't be any tangerine soju coming from his non-existent citrus orchards. Ha!

Hobi DID release more music, On the Street, and it WAS a collab with J. Cole. AND he became fashion ambassador for his fave: Louis Vuitton. God I miss him so much. Instagram is so quiet without him. Everything is so quiet without him.

We finally got PJM1 and it has a name now, FACE and Like Crazy has broken records. Jimin as an artist has broken records as we knew he would and he is still making music. And he's travelling the world being a Dior and Tiffany ambassador and snatching everyone's wig, eating everyone alive and just being Jimin. His constant happy smile has been the most meaningful thing to me this year. I'm so thrilled he is happy.

Jungkook... the Bunkoo has stumped me. The Calvin Klein contract is amazing. His spontaneous lives have been wonderful. Cooking for us has been awesome. None of that could have been predicted. He's the sweetest king of spoilers and support for Jimin's stuff. I also did not predict I would love him even more this year. But here we are.

NOT ON THE PREDICTION RADAR WHATSOEVER:

Jimin on a Fast & Furious franchise soundtrack collab. I NEED MORE JIMIN!

Tae and Jennie "soft" revealing their relationship publicly. Like WHAT? But they did that.

Also blonde Tae... I never thought we'd see a blonde Tannie again.

Attending a Suga/Agust D concert and meeting up with Army friends I met on the internet. HIGHLIGHT OF THE YEAR!

[I can't believe I saw Yoongi in real life. This close.]

2023 is already half way over. I have no idea what will happen this second half of 2023. It's a mystery.

As much as I am reveling in having so much to look forward to every day and every week, and as much as I wish this didn't have to happen...I (selfishly) really want them to get enlisted so they can be back together as soon as possible in 2025 (at any point in 2025). The first time I see them together in 2025, I am going to cry with relief. However I am always the first to say BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR so I know I shouldn't even been saying any of that...

Anyway...

I guess at the end of December, I will be looking back and saying "well, who would have thought THAT would happen?" More of "not on the prediction radar." By December, Jin will only have six months left. Time is flying faster than I thought it would when back on June 13, 2022. After that heartbreaking Festa dinner, we were staring down a bleak two and a half years of being Bangtan-less....well that didn't happen did it?

[whumpy-writings]

Helpless

Febuwhump 2024 Day 1

The Dhampir Files Masterlist

CW: Non-con drugging, abusive parents (whumpees are adults), carewhumpers, reference to murder of parents

"You're an old man now, ya know that?" Cal leaned against the doorframe, smirking. Renn rolled his eyes.

"You're older than me."

"Exactly. Welcome to the old man club, where our favorite activity is napping and complaining loudly about the weather." Cal crossed the room and ruffled Renn's hair. Renn slapped his hand away playfully.

"But seriously, Renn. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," Renn said. "I honestly can't believe I'm twenty. Part of me didn't think we'd live this long."

Cal sighed. "Wow, way to bring down the mood." He wrapped Renn in a hug. Renn closed his eyes and squeezed his brother back. They were dhampirs, half human and half vampire. They weren't supposed to exist. If the authorities ever discovered them, they would be executed. There had been several close calls over the years, but they had so far evaded detection.

"Boys! Dinner is ready," Silvie called from downstairs. She was the human housekeeper who had taken care of them for the past few years. Ever since things with their vampire parents had gone sour.

The two boys tromped downstairs. Renn breathed in the scent of rosemary roasted chicken. It was his favorite meal.

"It's smells delicious in here." Renn pulled out his chair and settled in, Cal in the chair across from him.

"I would hope so. I've been slaving away at the stove all day. There's mushroom soup, rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes, and a lemon cake for dessert." Silvie put a dish of butter on the table, removed her apron, and sat down.

Renn's mouth watered at the feast. He started to fill his plate. "Thank you, Silvie. Everything looks amazing."

"Anything for you, Renn. Happy birthday."

They talked and laughed as they ate. Renn drank the cup of blood Silvie had provided for him to wash down his dinner.

Silvie brought out the cake and she and Cal fussed over how best to arrange the twenty candles on top.

"Well make a wish," Cal said.

Renn stared at the flickering flames, contemplating. Then he blew out the candles. I wish for twenty more years just like this.

The cake was, of course, heavenly. Renn leaned back in his chair. "I pronounce this birthday feast a success." He got to his feet and started to gather the dirty dishes.

"Hey, I got those," Cal said as he swatted Renn's hand away. Renn let his brother have the dishes. Cal was at the sink when Renn noticed Silvie crying.

"What's wrong?" Renn pulled out a chair next to her, his brow pinched in concern. She looked at her lap and sniffled into a handkerchief.

"Oh, nothing. You boys are just both so grown up." Sylvie looked at him with a sad expression. "It feels like it went by so fast." She stroked his cheek. "I'll miss you."

"What do you mean?" Renn asked. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "I mean . . . I'll miss the little boy you used to be."

Renn couldn't suppress his snort. "Really? I think I single-handedly gave you at least three-quarters of your grays."

Sylvie laughed. "You weren't that bad. I only got half from you, the other half came from your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cal called from the sink. "I'm an angel."

"What about that time you brought an entire bucket of frogs into the house?" Renn asked.

Cal spun around. "It was freezing outside! I was trying to save them."

Sylvie chuckled. "I swear my heart almost gave out when I woke up to a frog on my pillow."

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Renn changed into his nightclothes and climbed into bed. It was early spring and he left the window cracked open to get the cool night breeze. The only sounds were the chirping of the crickets and the wind whooshing through the leaves. Renn, Cal, and Sylvie lived in a little house out in the country, far away from prying eyes. It hadn't always been that way. Renn shook off the memory. They were here now, that's what mattered. He was just about to put his candle out when there was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

Sylvie came in, a candle in one hand and a cup in the other.

"I brought you some tea," she said as she set the candle on the table. "I know how much you like the chamomile."

Renn sat up in bed and took the teacup. "Thanks. Does it have-"

"Yes, I put in two dollops of honey."

Renn grinned. "You're the best, Sylvie."

Renn took a sip of the tea. He sighed at the sweetness. Sylvie sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I love you, Renn. Please always remember that."

Renn's forehead creased. "I love you too. Are you alright? You've seemed sad today." He took another sip of his tea. He could feel a headache coming on.

"You've always been such a sweet boy. I asked them for more time, but they said it had to be now."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Renn asked. His vision blurred and his head pounded. He suddenly was so, so tired. Sylvie took the cup from him as he fell back against the pillows.

"I'm sorry," Sylvie said. Renn's eyes widened. She had drugged him. But why? He tried to move away from her but his limbs were as heavy as lead. Sylvie shifted his head into her lap. "Don't fight it. It's no use. Just relax, Renn." Renn's eyes drifted shut. He forced them open. He had to get away. He had to warn Cal. He attempted to yell but all that came out was a strangled sob. He was going to die. He had always thought he would burn to death. That someday the authorities would discover him and Cal and have them burned at the stake for being monstrosities. He had never thought it would be like this. Drugged by the woman who he loved as if she was his own mother.

"It's okay honey, it's okay," Sylvie soothed as she ran a hand through his hair. "You're just going to sleep for a little bit." Renn wanted to pull away from her, but he was completely helpless. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the tear sliding down Sylvie's face.

Renn floated in the darkness for what felt like eternity.

"He's more sensitive than Callum," a voice said. "She should have given him a smaller dose."

"She had no way of knowing that," another voice said. "He'll be fine. It'll just take a little longer to get through his system."

Renn whimpered. His head pounded and he had never felt so sore in his life. He blinked his eyes open. The light burned and he snapped them shut again with a groan.

"Ah, you're awake!"

"W-" Renn coughed. His tongue felt thick and a bout of dizziness washed over him. He tried again. "W-where am I?"

"You're home, my beautiful boy. You're finally home." That voice. Renn knew that voice. With enormous effort, he opened his eyes.

"Mother?"

"Yes baby, I'm here." She looked just like he remembered. Long black hair pulled back into a sensible bun, a no-nonsense gray dress, eyes that sparkled with what he had once thought was love. He knew better now.

"You had Sylvie drug me," he said.

His father spoke up. "I'm sorry about that, it must have been unpleasant. But you never would have come home otherwise."

"Of course not!" Renn yelled. His heart pounded and he was hit by the instinct to flee. He had never wanted to see them again. Not after he had seen them murder his human mother and Cal's human father in cold blood. "You killed them. You killed our parents right in front of us."

Father sighed. "For what it's worth, we didn't intend for you and Callum to see that. The only reason we eliminated them was to protect you two."

Renn let out a deep breath. "Why am I here? Where's Cal?" He tested his limbs and found he could barely move a finger.

"Callum's downstairs. We've already spoken with him," Mother said. "As for why you're here, you'll be helping us to push the boundaries of modern science. You and Callum are the first dhampirs to make it to maturity in generations. We know next to nothing on dhampir anatomy and physiology, so we'll be studying you two."

Renn's throat went dry. "You're going to dissect us?"

Father had the audacity to laugh. "Oh no, of course not. We're much more interested in how your bodies work than what they look like on the inside." That wasn't very reassuring.

"You're too special to waste on something as unrefined as dissection," Mother pitched in. Renn closed his eyes as tears burned. "You must be exhausted. Let's take you downstairs."

Renn couldn't fight back as his father picked him up and carried him to his fate.

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