#does anyone know of any good fics where he's part of that scene?

[bishicat]

I think he actually really wanted to go :(

[lullabyes22-blog]

Real talk because you are THE resident Silco expert and all your headcanons are 100% correct: why does fandom think Silco would be good in bed? (Or good at sex at all?)

I've seen headcanons about him being a giver, and about his dick game being fire, and while he's a sexy, charismatic man, I feel like he's too... selfish, insecure, and just not a romantic guy. He's also a very bitter, lonely, and angry dude. Idk, it makes sense he would have some kinks but I feel like he'd be too much of a bitch to care for anyone else in bed. I guess he'd want it rough, and I've read some fics where he's a sadist, but I feel like it'd just be a quick fuck to satisfy himself, not a slow, passionate, sensual thing.

idk, do with this what you will.

I agree - with nuance 💗

Silco - at least as I write him in FNF - is principally a headfuck. If he's demonstrating an interest in you, then he wants something from you. If he's nice to you, there's a bottom line. No act of generosity comes without strings attached, and every small kindness comes at a terrible price. That aspect of cold-blooded calculus is never far away from his base nature, which splits the world into assets and liabilities, and his own actions into a transaction of cost versus reward.

With that in mind, he excels, not at sex, but at getting his partners to do what he wants them to do. For him, it's one of the many fluid ways of expressing power, and demonstrating his mastery over the subtleties of the human body and mind.

A few readers have noticed that he comes across as very detached and controlled during FnF's sex scenes - and that they read as weirdly voyeuristic. That always delights me, because it's an intentional choice. He doesn't really see his partner as anything beyond a medium to his goals, so his focus is entirely on their physical responses and his own actions. His narration is distant, observational and impersonal, because he doesn't experience sex as something that involves an emotional or empathetic connection. Rather, he's gauging how his target's responses play out on a physical plane, and he's calibrating his own actions to maximise their impact.

To give credit where credit is due, he's very intelligent, patient and observant. There is also some realistic backing to the running gag that Good D is invariably attached to Bad Men. More specifically, Bad Broke Men. Silco has not grown up in a position of privilege or wealth. He has been forced to make use of every available resource. He has survived by the skin of his teeth on a constant knife edge of deprivation, hunger and fear.

He's a scrapper. He's a survivor. He's an opportunist.

And to be any of those things, you need to know your way around people: their wants and weaknesses. That's the foundation for the idea that he's good in bed - that he can anticipate his partner's desires, and respond accordingly. The difference is, his actions have no romantic underpinning. It's a matter of pure pragmatism and self-interest.

In terms of technical skill, he's likely very good at finding his partner's pressure points, both literal and figurative, and exploiting them. But if it were up to him, he'd find a way to turn the thumbscrews with nothing more than a well-chosen word and a cold look. The sex is just a generality, and his enjoyment a function of their compliance.

When it comes to actual intimacy?

My friends, he'd be spectacularly bad.

Not just bad, but skittish, hostile and hopelessly inept. He'd feel like an accomplished stage actor who has to step out onto the boards for an improv class. He hasn't got the right lines, he isn't dressed for the part, and he isn't even sure what role he's supposed to be playing. He'd be so awkward, he'd actually have trouble looking his partner in the eyes. The sum total of his sexual ouvre would devolve into the following comedy of errors:

"What the fuck is this?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't touch me there."

"This is going well, right?"

"Why can't I get it up?"

"I can't do this."

"Leave me alone."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't leave me."

"They always leave me."

"Why does everyone leave me?"

And he'd only spiral deeper into self-loathing and isolation. To submit to intimacy is to open oneself up to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and the constant risk of rejection. To Silco, it is anathema. Actual emotional vulnerability during sex would be not unlike attending his own public execution.

But.

Silco is not a one-note villain, much less a one-trick pony. He has a human history riven in deprivation, bloodshed and betrayal. He's remade himself from a 'weak' man into the premier kingpin of Zaun, but that predatory bracing still hides remnants of the soft-natured idealist he once was. In fact, he's the product of a deeply embedded internal conflict between two distinct versions of himself. The one who seeks to burn his enemies, and the one who seeks to save his city. He's also, as demonstrated by his love for Jinx, capable of profound devotion, loyalty, and a deep-seated longing for companionship.

That means the potential for romance exists. It's just buried deep, deep, deep down beneath years of abuse, neglect, trauma, and self-imposed barriers. If he meets someone who can dismantle those barriers, or bypass them altogether and earn his trust, there is a ray of hope.

Sex would still be frightening and uncomfortable, and it'd involve a lot of trial and error. But it'd also have the potential to be deeply healing. Not because Silco would become a better man, but because his partner would make him want to try. He'd also bring the same intense focus, intelligence, and determination to the task that he applies to his criminal empire - which means that, once he does have his sea legs, Silco would have the potential to become a truly giving lover.

It's all about context.

And the context is always: will he take the gamble when he has nothing to lose, and everything to gain?

[headkiss]

hi hi there! Newcomer to your blog here, and I just wanna say that I love love love your writing sm, it makes me warm and happy and I wanna consume it like good soup. I saw that you’re looking for Spencer requests (my beautiful beloved baby) and I was wondering if I could just request a classic friends to lovers where the reader is a member of the team, and gets hurt on a case and that’s what makes Spencer realize? Any format you’d like. This might be a bit tmi but I just got broken up with and honestly fictional men are the only thing getting me through this rn, and seeing you were taking requests was just straight up happiness. Thank you!

this is so sweet what if i cry :,) i hope this helps you at least a little bit (especially since this has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE) <3 you will get through this my love (spencer thinks so too!) | 0.7k words!! my first spencer fic so bare with me 😅 tw mention of a knife and a small injury !

You’re no stranger to taking risks. Nobody at the BAU is. It’s practically written into your job descriptions. Split-second decisions, no room for mistakes.

Only, usually they seem to pay off. Mostly. This time, you aren’t so lucky.

After three days of profiling and trying to catch this unsub, of new victims and suspects and secrets uncovered by Garcia, you’ve finally found him. Apprehending an unsub seems to either be the easiest or toughest part of a case.

This time around, it’s the latter. He’s stubborn, and smarter than you’d like to admit, and when you think you’ve got an opening, the upper hand, that one wrong move proves you wrong.

It’s so quick, the way he grabs your wrist and twists your arm behind your back harshly, a pained groan escaping your mouth before you can suppress it. The way the team all springs into action quickly, talking to him calmly, Hotch at the forefront.

And the look on Spencer’s face. The pleading in his eyes that he can’t seem to control.

He’s who you look to first. Who you keep looking at, because you think if anyone could keep you calm in this moment, if anyone could make you believe you’ll be okay, it’s him.

There’s a knife held to your neck, a cruel grip on your arm, and still, you look at Spencer.

“I won’t cut her if you let me go,” the unsub says. You squeeze your eyes shut before blinking them back open.

You know Hotch has a plan, and if he doesn’t, then Emily does, and so on. They’re all incredible, and there’s not a part of you that thinks they won’t get you out of this, but your heart still pounds, your stomach still twists in fear.

“Go ahead,” Hotch says.

“Hotch-” Spencer’s voice is quiet but sharp. He trusts Aaron, he always has, but you aren’t something he wants to gamble.

“You won’t get far,” Hotch continues.

You find Spencer’s eye and nod at him, so slight that he’d be the only one to pick up on it, since he’s paying such close attention to you. Under different circumstances, you might feel your heart flutter from it.

Sure enough, Aaron does have a plan, and before you can really process what he’s said or done to get through to him, the unsub lets you go with a harsh push, and the first place you go is into Spencer’s waiting arms.

“Take her outside, Reid, we’ve got this,” Morgan says quickly. Spencer doesn’t fight him on it.

He walks you out with one arm tight around your waist and the other stabilizing your wrist. His hands are far kinder than the ones that had been on you moments ago, and you let him hold some of your weight until you’re settled sitting in the back of one of the ambulances on scene.

Spencer watches them wrap your wrist with a tensor bandage, watches them assure you that it’s just a sprain, that you’re otherwise injury-free. He holds your good hand the entire time. Maybe too tightly.

You both wait until the paramedics are done and have walked away to help somebody else before speaking.

“Well, that was fun,” you say. Your instincts are always to play things down, to hide behind jokes. Still, you let yourself lean your head against Spencer’s shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. The hand that isn’t holding yours covers your bouncing knee. “I know a lot about odds, and they weren’t in our favor back there.”

“It was mostly my fault, probably. I let him get too close.”

“We arrived seconds later than we should have. That car slowed us down in the intersection on the way, and then the rest was off.” He tells you. Comforting you the way he knows how; with the facts. “Time is what went wrong. Not you. Never you.”

You pick your head up and turn your head to look at him, his hair falling around his ears, his eyes still worried but soft. “Never, huh? I’m gonna remember that.”

Reid squeezes your good hand, his pinky running across your wrist to find your pulse, like he’s making sure you’re really okay. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so afraid on the job.”

“Not even when you’re the one being held like that?” you ask.

“No,” he tells you. “Not even then.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't. 

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for. 

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. 

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you." 

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room. 

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car. 

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward. 

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you. 

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries." 

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is. 

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home. 

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed. 

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing. 

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did. 

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised. 

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window. 

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is. 

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct. 

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming. 

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone. 

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger. 

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest. 

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element. 

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground. 

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space. 

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–" 

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth. 

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes. 

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you. 

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that. 

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer. 

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you. 

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?" 

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them." 

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do. 

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later. 

A Side Story

[swoofllia]

THE PROJECT.

#Vance Hopper x Reader

PAIRING/PAIRINGS : Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader.

FORMAT : Series.

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER : Y/N and Vance were partnered up for a project. Obviously, both of them did not want to be together because of an incident that happened two summers ago. But were there any other choices? And what other surprise would await Y/N later on the day?

♺ TW ! : Mentions of fighting, cuss words, bruises, wounds, brusies, scars, blood, threats, abuse, kidnappings, and more.

AUTHORS NOTE ! : I just want to say that English is not my first language and that there is a scene (where Y/N is complaining to her best friend) inspired from a Vance H. fic called Pinball, Hair, and Detention by ellemfaoh! Please go check it out. It's so good! Also, there will be some 70s slang in the fic, so I will give you the meaning of it down below! This will also be on wattpad! My username there is the same as here.

↓

Hairy eyeball - If someone were to give you the hairy eyeball, it would mean they're shooting you a nasty or menacing stare.

Enjoy your stay ! :)

CHAPTER I - What A Day.

NORTH DENVER, COLORADO - 1977.05.27.

"And... Vance and Y/N! You two will be the last assigned pair for this upcoming project." Said, Mr. Hall. You froze at the news. You hated Vance. Well.. Not exactly hate. It was more of a dislike type of way. From your side, at least. Long story short, when you moved to town before first grade, you both became friends. But because of an incident two summers ago that everyone in the school knew about, everything went upside down. Though the feeling was mutual. Vance felt the same way about you, too.

Now you are just a girl who has hobbies and interests others would call weird and lame, while some idiotic kids at school try to pester you and whatnot. You have tried to ignore them, but just can't ignore the agitating buzz they made in your head. Could you now?

Needless to say, both of the teenagers wanted to be switched with someone else. Even if it's with the most stupid kid in this class. Seriously.

"If you have any questions, ask the-"

"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but is there any chance that I can work alone? I just feel like I'll be better on my own." You questioned, raising your hand slightly to attract the teacher's attention. Mr. Hall's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

"If anyone works alone, it will be an automatic fail. If you want an explanation, I won't give it to you, because i don't owe you one." Mr. Hall stated flatly as you groaned quietly in annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Now, I want everybody to sit next to their assigned partner. Remember, I will check if everybody is sat where they have to be, if not there will be consequences."

Cringing quietly at that last part, you shifted uncomfortably as you glanced around the room to see if anybody reacted the same way. Some of them did, but most didn't. Probably because they were so used to Mr. Hall and his weird ways of threatening. There was some rumor tha-

"Move, fat ass." Jumping slightly in your seat, you were a bit startled. As you looked up at the figure that insulted you and brought you out of your mind, you couldn't really recognize who it was. Was she one of the girls that liked Vance. Carol, maybe? You grimaced. Did you have to sit next to him? To Vance Hopper? That's probably why she looked like there was steam coming out of her ears. Does Carol still think that you and Vance are friends or something? Even though the whole school knows you aren't?

"Maybe when you calm your balls down a bit, I will move you snot-flicking doofus." You spat out. Getting up, she threw you a nasty glare. You ignored her and went to sit where Vance was. Great. When you went to his desk, you dropped your bag on your side of the dirty, almost peeled-off at the top desk and sat down, giving the dirty-blond a quick glance. Just as Vance was about to say something to you, Mr. Hall started checking as he promised, and after, he announced. "As you all know, yesterday we wrote down some very important notes about World War 1 and World War 2. Well, almost everyone." paused Mr. Hall, giving Vance a quick look of disapproval before continuing. The boy in response, sneered. "All of you will have one to two weeks to do this project. Before you start it, I want all of you to write down some more notes, as the project's prompt will be about WW1 and WW2." After that your mind completely dozed off somewhere else. The prompt was all you needed. You would just write down the notes that were needed and zone out again.

As some minutes ticked off, you felt a sharp pain towards your leg. You quietly hissed out as you looked beneath the desk and saw Vance's leg, ready to attack again. You shot a glare towards Vance. All he did was smirk. Narrowing your eyes, you moved your legs far away as you possibly could. After a while, a thump on your leg was heard, and you bit your tongue just so you don't yelp out from pain. Looking up at the clock on the wall in front, you checked the time. Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before going to an expression of pure despair. 15 more minutes. You sighed in defeat, leaning your head on your palm. It won't be that bad. Right? It was just 15 minutes.

WRONG.

"You don't understand, Bugs! It hurt like a hundred hits with a belt!" You stated while she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning your words. "Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but still! He's the worst! And just as I thought he was gonna stop, he started tugging and pulling on my hair!" You ranted to your best friend. Exchanging the books in your hands with the ones in the locker, you slammed it shut. As you leaned against it, you turned towards her - Maya. She was obviously trying to hold her laughter. When you started squinting your eyes and crossed your arms is when she burst out laughing. After a second, you chimed in. The both of you got weird stares from some other kids, or whatever. Who cares, tho? You were only having fun with one of the most normal girls in school.

When you were over with the giggling session, she spoke. "Maybe our little Vancey has a little crush on you!" teased Maya. "Oh yes, I hope Vance likes me! I really do!" You said with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice, making a face afterward. Maya started laughing again, but you just stood there watching her. You rolled your eyes and sighed as she laughed. "If a boy likes you, he shouldn't be tugging or kicking your leg! Not bullying the person you're attracted to is literally the bare minimum!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, face laced with confusion.

"True, true. But still, imagine if he actually does."

"Are you trying to get on my nerves today?" You grumbled out, looking sideways at her. She shrugged as the bell rang. "Maybe, but luckily we have English together. You know what that means..." She exclaimed, changing the subject as her mouth curved into a smile. You gave her a smirk of your own.

Whenever the both of you had classes together, you wouldn't stop giggling for the most stupid reasons. Would it be teachers, other kids in school, hell, even objects! Honestly, she was everything you could ask for in a best friend. You knew each other since first grade. Maya knew about the incident with Vance because she was there too. Ever since then, the both of you hung out a lot, and you got very close, resulting in her being your best friend and you being hers.

As you both walked towards the English classroom, ahead of you, you saw Vance with his supposed 'friends' and some two other girls. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while Maya just looked at them with the white of her eye. The both of you walked past the horrendously annoying group (in your opinion), but you noticed that Maya made some sort of expression you couldn't explain. Closest to it was one of surprise. An 'Ooh' and 'Aah' escaped from her lips as if she were reading some sort of fascinating fashion magazine. You turned your head to see what she was 'Ooh'ing' and 'Aah'ing' about, and you mentally groaned out.

Turning your head back, you saw Vance fucking Hopper staring at you. Right directly at you. The both of you locked eyes. As you kept eye contact with his icy blues, you saw that Carol girl angrily glaring at you. Making a face you turned your head towards Maya.

"I swear that chick has some problem with me!" You commented. "She keeps giving me a hairy eyeball, and I don't know why! I honestly think-"

"It's because she likes Vance. Yeah, I know. The whole school does." She replied, cutting you off. "Last year, when I was paired up with him for the school's baking competition, she kept either glaring or sneering at me." She said with laughter. "Who cares, tho? It's not like she can win over his heart with her bitchy attitude. Wait! Actually no!" She exclaimed, her head turning towards you with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "They would be the perfect couple! They both are assholes like it's their full-time job and are just... Eugh!" Maya shivered a bit, a scowl plastered on her face while you chuckled at her reaction.

When you both went inside the classroom, you went to your usual seats, which were almost at the back. As you sat on the dirty plastic chairs, both of you started talking about different topics.

"And then she-" Maya got interrupted by the teacher walking in. Ugh. Mrs.Young..

After a while, you started quietly giggling at a thought that came in your head. Maya looked at you, confusion drawn on her face. You just gave her a nod, meaning that you would tell her in a bit. As the class began to sit down, Mrs. Young started talking about something that clearly wasn't important to you because you were quietly laughing and whispering with Maya.

"Y'know.. Young doesn't suit her. Like at all. She's fuckin' ancient, an annoying old hag that passes the jocks so they can graduate, just because she wants to pull down their pants since she can't do that to her husband." Maya quickly put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh or even giggle. You could see her eyes slightly filled with tears as she blinked profusely.

"It wasn't that funny, but still. Its so-"

"Y/N!" Mr. Young yelled out. You stiffened as the expression on your face quickly turned from joy to panic. As you straightened up and turned your head towards her, you saw the whole class looking at you and her make the most horrendous expression on an adult you have ever seen. You tried to keep it inside, but you let out a giggle and a quiet laugh.

"Get up!"

Here we go.

"Something funny, young lady?" The teacher questioned.

Yes.

"N-No Mrs. Young.." You said through laughs.

Fuck.

As you glanced at Maya, you already knew she was gonna be the reason you were gonna end up in detention. As you let out a laugh again, that's when Mrs. Young shouted out.

"That's it! Detention for three days!"

"But-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

You sighed as you plopped down on the plastic chair, placing your cheek on your palm.

What a day, honestly.

When the bell rang, you quickly gathered your stuff and left without uttering a word to your best friend. She called out to you, but you ignored her completely. As you went to your locker, you heard her shout out your name while you quickly switched up your books.

"Y/N..!"

Maya's voice echoed through the hall. You turned around to look at her as she jogged towards you. When she was in front of you, she panted for some seconds before speaking up.

"What." You questioned, voice flat. It took her a moment to talk as she was taking some breaths. "Listen.. I didn't mean to make you mad or get you into trouble. I just wanted to make you smile after her nagging 'n shit, you know?" "Yeah, but that doesn't mean while she's scolding and looking at me!" "I'm sorry! Okay?" She exclaimed quickly while looking down at the ground. You just smiled at her. When she looked to you, her blue eyes crinkled at the end as she gave you a grin. You know she didn't mean any harm. "You're lucky you're my best friend, or I would have done everything possible to get you stuck in detention with me." She let out a giggle and hugged you, you doing the same.

As the time flew by, you went to detention, and when that hell of a place was over, you walked to the exit to leave school. You decided to go to the Grab 'N Go later and you walked half the way towards your house, you heard leaves crunching behind you. You shrugged it off and started walking a bit faster. When you realized the person behind copied you, you hesitated to turn around, but you did. Your eyes slightly widened for a moment, then narrowed immediately.

Vance fucking Hopper. Great. Just great.

You locked eyes with him. He looked you up and down, sneering. You stopped in your tracks, your face contouring into confusion and annoyance. "Are you followin' me or something, Hopper? You weren't even in detention, so what are you doing here walking so late after school?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you gripped the straps of your backpack. He probably took notice of it because he looked at them. Narrowing his eyebrows, he barked out, "Get a hold of yourself, dimwit. I would never follow anybody, especially you. Stupid bitch." 'Such a lie. He would definently follow someone if they piqued his interest.' You tought. Then he walked past you, grumbling something inaudible afterward.

You rolled your eyes and started again. Honestly, you expected some more arguing with him right now, but he didn't really do anything troublesome today when you think about it. Not even a minute fight with someone. Well, except when he started kicking your leg and tugging on your hair. He didn't answer your second question, too.. whatever, but what was that supposed to mean? Someone like you?

This time, Vance was ahead of you, so you decided to observe him. He was wearing his jean vest, a mix of blue-ish and gray-ish jeans, a white wife beater, belt, and some dirty black shoes. That was the outfit he wore most. Then, your eyes went up to the back of his head. His long, dirty-blond curls bouncing with every step he took. Honestly, you sometimes envied him for his hair. It was interesting. Wait. Did you just give that asshole a compliment? Yeah, his hair was pretty! But his personality was the total opposite. It's like he was born on this planet to terrorize everything and everyone. You tought to yourself for a moment that it was because of his home life. You knew about it. He had told you a bit before you two had started hating each other. But that didn't excuse his behavior at all.

What you didn't realize was that you were so caught up in your mind that you were two blocks past your house. Stopping in your tracks when you had realized, you turned around, giving the blond one last glance.

Unlocking the door, you went inside, kicking your shoes off and dropping your backpack. You went to the wired phone to call Maya. Dialing her number, you put the receiver on your ear and waited. When she answered the both of you made an agreement to meet at the Grab 'N Go in 10.

Hanging up, you quickly ran up to your room, grabbing a 5 dollar bill, shoving it in your pocket. You closed the door and rushed down the stairs, putting on your shoes. You went outside and locked the door. You weren't really rushing, so you were walking at a normal pace. You started wondering where the nickname 'Bugs' for Maya came. After a while of thinking, you remembered it was from that one cartoon animation with a bunch of episodes. Looney Tunes, was it?

When you arrived at the Grab 'N Go, Maya wasn't there. She lived closer to the mini store than you did, so you thought it was unusual. Another strange thing is that she always waited for you right in front of the door. You decided to wait for some more minutes. Maybe she would be a bit late than usual, or was she inside? Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. You just hoped that The Grabber didn't kidnap her. Just the thought of that made you want to vomit. You quickly decided to first look inside the Grab 'N Go.

Going in, you saw a familiar blond hunched over the Pinball Machine, trying to beat his high score, its bell dinging whenever he scored. Typical Vance.

Ripping your attention off of him, you went between the aisles, but there was no sight of Maya. Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion come from the side of the freezers. You decided to go there. Going on the other side, you saw a formed crowd of kids. A lot of hyping up and yells could be heard. A fight was happening. You don't know how the lady at the cash register wasn't hearing them chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. You wanted to shrug it off, but it was like an itch waiting to be scratched. As you pushed through the kids towards the center, you froze. Your eyes widened from the scene in front of you.

What the fuck?

Some two girls were holding Maya's arms from both her sides, and a third one was throwing punches and kicks at her. Your best friend's face was bruised, and so were her legs and arms. Her lip was almost busted. It wasn't even a fight at this point it was torture.

With clenched fists, your knuckles probably turning white at this point, you looked at the cashier and then back to Maya. When she moved her eyes towards you, you saw pain but relief when she took notice of you. There was so much more, but you couldn't just stand there anymore.

As you pushed through the kids, you went behind the girl who was hitting her. Grabbing her from the hair, you heard her yelp out in pain. "You putrid crotch-sniffing toerag, I swear to God I will kill you!" You yelled at her while turning her head to look at you. "Let me go, you cunt!" She screeched out. Ignoring her demanding, you straight up bashed her head in the freezer then threw her to the ground afterwards. Lifting her head up you saw that her eyes were teary and her nose was bleeding. She touched the bloody trail dripping from her nostrils with her fingertips and she quickly glared at you, anger evident in her eyes. As she got up she swinged a punch at you but you quickly ducked. Seeing her leg move a bit, you assumed she was going to try and kick you somewhere. Knowing her next attack, you blocked it with the tip of your elbow. You heard from somewhere that blocking it that way hurts your opponent more. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind. You grinned, bending your knees down a bit, hands resting on them.

"Stupidity ain't a crime, so feel fuckin' free to get outta here, bitch!" You remarked. "Oh! And by the way. I dont know if your parents realize that they're living proof of making a complete mistake and a fucking bitch that bullies other kids and projects her problems on them." You spat out afterward. She just stared up at you. And that's where you crossed the line. Before you can even comprehend, she punched you right in the nose.

"Y/N!" You heard the voice of your best friend call out to you. There was so much noise and commotion. You felt like everything was a fever dream. That was until you felt a kick to the stomach. You shut your eyes, a stinging feeling in them as you clutched your stomach with your arms. When you opened them, they were teary, and you felt a warm liquid trickling down your nose. Yup, you definently got a bloody nose, too. You wiped the blood with the sleeve of your shirt and looked up at her with a nasty glare. She was just grimacing down at you like you were some sort of creature that snuck on Earth. Out of nowhere, she decided to kick you in the hip multiple times, and your not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. It almost felt like you were gonna have a broken pelvis.

Just as you thought you were done for and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole Grab 'N Go, Maya shouted unexpectedly.

"Hey, you cock-sucking hackwag!" The girl turned around, facing her. She was surprised at her words because earlier she was tormenting your best friend, and now she's getting insulted by her. "Getting bold, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

You sat up, your back leaning against the freezer door. You felt a slight lump on your lip. As you touched it a bit with the tips of your fingers, you realized she busted your lip. Grimacing, you looked up at the crowd. Some of them were watching Maya and the girl. Some were watching you. Including Vance. His eyes were scanning your bruises and whatnot that was on your exposed skin. He wasn't looking at you only. He observed the girl, Maya, and you. He was a fighter. After all, he was here for the fight. But when his eyes went to your slightly parted bloody lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he locked eyes with yours. The both of you were having a staring stand-off. Well, that was until someone's torso fell on your feet, hissing and groaning as you heard an 'Oh!' from the crowd. You were ready to attack that rascal again if Maya was the one on your feet, but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. Maya was standing proudly, a small grin plastered on her lips. You brought your feet up to your torso, her back hitting the ground, making her groan out again. You let out a laugh and stood up, dusting yourself.

Grabbing your best friend's hand, you pushed through the crowd. "We gotta leave immediately!" You exclaimed, turning your head to glance at her. Going past the cashier lady, she gave you an odd look. Maybe it was because of your beaten up state. Or maybe because of the loud voices all at the same aisle. Turning her head, she gazed to where the leftover commotion was coming from.

When you and Maya went out the door, the bell rang, signaling your exit. You started running and giggling bit, both of your lungs burning. You were bruised - blue, green, and yellow spots covering your arms and legs, scratches, and whatnot. People on the street were giving you weird and concerned looks, but hey. At least you kind of protected Maya. But you owed her now. She saved you from that imbecile of a girl before she could do something else than throw a blow and some kicks at you. You were just glad she was okay.

As for now, both of you went over to your house and fixed each other up on the living room couch while watching some clichè action movie. There was a comfortable silence between you. That was the feeling you needed. A feeling that made you feel safe while not needing to talk - maybe something like silent communication.. After a while she spoke.

"Dude, I honestly thought you were done for when she started kickin' you 'nd shit. You looked so.."

"Don't even finish."

She chuckled at your fast reply, laying her head on your lap as her legs rested themselves on the armrest. "I'm just glad you're okay, N/N." She murmured.

"Me too, Bugs." You answered, bringing your hand to her head, caressing her hair. "Oh, by the way, did you see the way Vance looked at you? It was weird."

"I know, don't mention it. Again." You exclaimed quickly. "Why?" She asked. There was a moment of silence between the both of you. "Because I don't know what kind of look it was." You mumbled. "What kind of look did you hope it was?" She looked up at you, her blue eyes looking for an answer in yours.

"I don't know." You stated, ripping your eyes from hers towards the TV.

"Then, if you don't know now, you will find out another day." She said before turning her attention towards the movie.

What a day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NOTES : Hello, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am currently working on the second chapter of the fic, so stay tuned! If you want to get tagged when chapter II is out, please leave a comment or like! If you have any suggestions for the next chapter, feel free to tell me in the comments! Bye-bye! :D

Tags ! : @yayitsyannie @serradiary1ry @dollyzdove I edited the fic up a bit, so that's why I'm tagging you guys for chapter I !

© swoofllia

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

[pixelatedraindrops]

“Don’t worry, my pokepal. We’re here for you.”

Something I made based on BrightStar’s birthday present fanfiction to me. It’s a RainCode Pokemon AU crossover story. I felt pretty down last night and I needed a distraction. So I drew this. Originally it was going to be a small uncolored doodle I’d attach as a thread to the fic, but I just kept going… xD

Description below read (its long lol)

I kinda drew out one of the scenes, however I added my own element to it. I know that the scene takes place in the normal setting of rain code, except everyone is a Pokemon. But the story itself gave me huge Pokemon Mystery Dungeon vibes so I made the setting similar to the PMD Explorers games. With the straw nested beds, the grass flooring, and the sliced berries.

Tbh, the explorers games are the elements of PMD I’m most used to and prefer. I like the idea of Pokemon living like feral creatures with small living circumstances, like cavemen. Not fully functional furnishings and machines. I feel it gives a cozier domestic aspect and it separates a Pokemon society away from us humans. They have more modern settings in the newer games, but I like the way it was done in explorers the most. So I hope you don’t mind that!

It was rather nostalgic to draw a PMD themed art again after so long. It was a game I loved drawing fanart of in the past and I even had teams with the hero and partner based off my friends. Good times…

Reading this fic got me to thinking how much I would have loved to see a whump or illness scene from the game. Having the hero, partner or even important side character fall ill to have a nursing scene with their whole team tending to them. (The closest we got was the Manaphy post game quest before releasing it to grow up in the sea)

So I did just that. I used the fodder from Bright’s story to create this little piece where Team NDA help their newest member through a status ailment, known as a BRNing fever. (Plus yay an excuse to draw yuma sick as an eevee :D)

Everyone has a role to play in his recovery.

The patient, Kokovee is lying in the infirmary nest bed feeling exhausted, sick and miserable where he is tended to by the rest of his team. Yakgrowth makes sure he stays warm by using his many vines to force wrap a blanket around him, also to monitor his temperature, and to try to feed him. (I can see him doing all sorts of tasks with all his vines, Grass types are grade A caretakers :3) Liepara uses their sharp claws to slice the berries that are brought as medicine to be easier for him to consume. Oran berries for his energy, Rawst berries to settle the heat, and Persim berries to prevent any confusion (delirium) that might be caused by the illness. Desuhichu walks up to him and connects his cheek to his to loan him some energy his way. (though this only works on other Pikachu, it does not harm the sick shiny Eevee) Celibuki uses her psychic powers to pre-soak the towels in the stone bowl for cooling him off later, Duskullgami can’t do much but she makes sure her partner is at least comfortable, and Vivisol merely stands guard. He doesn’t do too much but he forewarned the team of the disaster beforehand so they got everything ready. He did help in his own way... XD

I was actually inspired partially by @asaka-lucy-dr-rc’s birthday work for me where everyone helps tend to sick Yuma in their own way. I wanted to do something similar, except they’re Pokemon now... xD

Desuhiko and Yuma's forms were designed by me, as Eevee and Pikachu are the only Pokémon I have confidence in drawing. It's why everyone else is kinda offscreen (that and to focus on kokobolt since Bright wrote this story as an extra service to her XD)

Ya'll cannot force me to draw anyone else completely so they are just there, feet and heads cut off LOL at Vivia's big-ass claws (shinigami was interesting to try though)

The other designs belong to @snivyartjpeg as part of their own PMD AU. Seems Bright used them for this story, so I had to draw them too. (sorry biggie I know sick whump isn't your thing, but I had to credit you... X'D)

But yeah it was fun to draw this out! (kinda needed a stress reliever)

I hope you all enjoy! ^-^

Thanks again for the cute story Bright!💜

Alt Version where Yuma’s body is free:

[neoninky]

Diasomnia Courtship Headcanons 2.0

I was digging around some old files as I clean up my Diasomnia canon x oc fic for its revival and I found this old post that still makes me laugh. So here's some serotonin for all the Diasomnia lovers out there. I did brush it up a bit as well cuz why not.

Diasomnia lovers supreme and general super rad people: @nuitthegoddess @hanafubukki @masquerade-of-misery @foxwitchaine @aquaburst3 @wysteriadelights @thosebrookfieldgirls

*puts on some Bridgerton/Jane Austen film sounding music to set the mood*

The Diasomnia fam got their happy ending at long last but wait - there's more! Now the boys enter their Twitterpatted Smitten Boi eras *flowers and sparkly bubbles all over the place*

Featuring Lilia’s two sons and their aggressively loyal neighbor/cousin (I may or may not be using these inspirations as I write the boys in my Diasomnia canon x oc reboot *suspiciously sipped tea*)

Malleus: The prince and soon-to-be king of Briar Valley; he is naturally expected to find himself a queen and future mother to his heirs. So courtship isn't something that comes as a surprise to him. In fact, it's something he was prepared for since he became old enough to understand what courtship and marriage even were.

For Malleus, this can go one of two ways: 1) if he's being forced to meet and court a some daughter of a noble family that he's not interested in, he'll be…avoidant. In other words, he out (Malleus just poofs away in firefly dust). This man could have a whole ballroom of lovely ladies vying for his attention like the prince from Cinderella, but if he's not interested in any of them? He's going to be re-enacting the forementioned ballroom scene from Cinderella except it's the musical version with Brandy where the prince is literally only dancing with each girl for like two seconds just to get through the night faster lolol. Once the guards, or Silver and Sebek, OR Lilia, finally hunt him down and force him to show up, Malleus is polite and pleasant at best. He goes through all the motions and acts like the perfect gentleman, but anyone who knows him well can see the distant, far-off look of escapism in his eyes.

OR Option #2: he's not only interested, he is invested. This man is locked in. Hoo boy, good luck stopping him from trying to be the first in line any given moment for this girl's attention. Not only does he perform all the expected etiquette perfectly, Malleus Draconia is the epitome of "down bad". What's her favorite color? Favorite flowers? Does she like music? What's her favorite food??? This man will discover and procure all of it for her faster than lightning. Seven help him if she is (for some reason) not impressed, he'll be crushed and it will become the worst part of everyone's day. Not out of malice or wrath, it will just be near impossible to get Malleus back to normal spirits for a long time after. Seven help him if she is impressed and shows appreciation and affection in return. Smitten doesn't even skim the surface. Malleus Draconia needs to marry her now. Put a ring on it? Malleus will put a ring on all ten of her pretty lil' fingers lol. His crew will have their hands full trying to help the love-struck royal from not come on too strong it's already too late or rush things too quickly. Either way, once his mind is made up, Malleus only has eyes for his queen.

Silver: Being a human raised primarily around fae folk or even half-fae folk, Silver is familiar with the range of courting rituals that various fae have performed over the years. Human courtship, on the other hand, well…he's a bit lost if not old-fashioned in that department. Mostly because of his lack of human interaction, but also because his father is Lilia. Self explanatory. He doesn't have a preference on fae women vs human/other women, though he understands that fae live far longer than humans so that might complicate things. Regardless, Silver is clumsy when wooing women (or anyone he might be interested in). He has the heart of the very best-boi boy but he can be a bit awkward when trying to express interest in someone.

The majority of his life has been dedicated to becoming a worthy knight for Malleus, though his school days allowed him some leisure and fun in between his training. Even so, Silver's bravery and tenacity in battle doesn't always translate into romance. Silver logically knows certain things he can do to show his affection on paper. In action, however, he may need some help practice. He is very traditional in his approach and believes in chivalry but might trip over his own good intentions. Definitely is the type of guy that would adorably mess up a compliment by telling his crush "my eyes are beautiful" instead of saying YOUR eyes are beautiful lol.

Don't even get him started on the anxiety his sleep condition brings him. He gets so nervous about suddenly passing out in front of the girl he wants to romance that it will sometimes make him literally sick (poor guy). Once he FINALLY gets over his nerves and takes action, Silver can make his feelings known. It may be awkward but you won't find another more genuine confession from a guy who looked like he walked out of a fairy tale. Also don't be surprised if an army of woodland creatures show up to help out.

If rejected, Silver is nothing if not a man of honor. He sees no point in hounding a woman who isn't interested in him, no matter how much it hurts. If his feelings are reciprocated, the poor man might pass out from joy. If he prepares correctly, Silver drinks enough coffee to keep that from happening. Silver will then exhale in immense relief ask his beloved for an even more romantic date...which he definitely did not spend three business days putting together a plan of action with Malleus, Sebek, and Lilia's help cough cough.

Sebek: While Malleus is enthusiastic and full throttle and Silver is charmingly shy/awkward and slow to act, Sebek is somewhere in the middle. This man is and always has been very disciplined in all endeavors. For him, romance will be no different. Sebek Zigvolt has trained since childhood to be Malleus' knight. This is his greatest goal and ambition. Someday his lord will marry and have children, precious little princes and princesses! Naturally, their security and well-being are Sebek's top priority!! As such romance has been put on the back burner through the majority of Sebek's teen years.

Once Sebek sets his sights on courtship and romance, he will not settle for just anyone, no sir. He is a man with taste and standards. You know those girls who write down the traits of their ideal husbands in a list? Sebek is the male equivalent of that. It's not as shallow as it sounds, Sebek just knows what he wants. Granted he started the list when he was about 13 years old cough, so some things do change as he matures. Even so, Sebek is - like Silver - old-fashioned in romance. He knows all the moves: bringing her flowers on the first date, taking her on romantic moonlit walks while also respecting her boundaries and fighting off any hooligans that may threaten her dignity, getting her father's approval, the whole nine yards!

And boy is he prepared. He's actually quite proud - if not smug - of how much research he's put into properly courting a lady. His grandfather made sure to leave books out for him when he was young so of course he grew into an avid reader. Definitely learned a thing or two from romance novels but will not admit it out loud.

Either way, once Sebek finds his dream girl, he already has a strategy all mapped out. If one plan doesn't work, he's got backup plans. If those don't work? A quitter he is not. This man will find a way come hell or high water. What's an obstacle? Never heard of them.

If things are going well, Sebek will not rush the courtship, but he will absolutely have the proposal and the wedding (hell, probably the honeymoon too dayum) all planned out in his head. If he somehow misses a detail, his mother and older sister will have at least five to ten different options at the ready to help him achieve perfection. Grandbabies for Mama Zigvolt are on the line here! Failure is not an option!

If for some reason Sebek's affections are rejected, he will put on a strong front…until he gets home/back to Malleus's castle and then he'll just fall to pieces. He's gonna need a grieving period, bless his heart. He will more than likely be a complete wreck until he gets the heartache completely out of his system. It'll be much like if Malleus is rejected except Sebek will somehow be much louder, more dramatic about it, but for a shorter period of time. Eventually he just locks in and starts working out way more than he already does or something, just to keep his mind off heartache so he can move on.

If all goes well and Sebek does successfully get with his dream lady love, pssssh well OF COURSE he did! Was there ever any doubt?! Foolish humans, of course not! (Lies, Sebek definitely has moments of doubt that he covers up with loud outbursts, binge eating, and/or vigorous training to the point of exhaustion. Thank Seven that it did work out though, whew.)

What's Lilia's role in all of this?

Lilia is hyped. He is SO ready for his boys to find love and start having cute lil' ones that he can dote on and teach things for better or worse. Definitely wants to level up into the Beloved Grandpa era of his life. Can you blame him? Baul just makes it sound amazing. Once it finally happens, Lilia cries like a fool at all three weddings. He is so unashamedly happy and proud of his boys. Chaos ensues any time Lilia tries to make a meal to welcome his new 'daughters/niece' to the family. The boys immediately go into covert ops to stop him from getting into the kitchen, sometimes asking their girlfriends/wives to help distract him or getting Lilia started on a story tangent about his travels, his glory days as a general, anything to keep him talking. The girls have heard all the horror stories and may have had some close shaves during their courtships with the boys, so they will more than likely rise to the occasion. No questions asked. If/when Lilia finds a partner, she immediately becomes the final boss Lilia has to defeat to get access to the kitchen or feed any children they may have cough.

BONUS ROUND: 'A rival enters'

Malleus: Gentleman #1 but also 'oh HELL naw'; His Majesty doesn't fool around. Hold his crown, there's about to be a gladiator level duel the second he spots another dude tryna make a move on his queen. Now if this happens before he can make things official, well he definitely does not like it, but a lady's consent is important. He is an honorable king and will not cross a boundary or treat the lady like some trophy to be won. What he will do is show up the rival SO hard that said rival has no choice but to exile themselves from proper society due to devastating levels of humiliation lol. His victory will undisputed and written about in history books.

Silver: Gentleman #2 Prince Yuki Sohma but Disney and with weapons; Silver VanRouge is basically a storybook prince just by existing and also he is technically a prince but alas, he too finds himself faced with another competing for his crush's affections. Well, he may not come across nearly as peacock-ish as Malleus or as aggressive as Sebek would. It's not really his style. He would stick to his guns and keep pursuing his crush on his terms without picking a fight with the rival until he's either rejected or his feelings are reciprocated. Now if a rival is pressuring his girl to choose them when they're signaling otherwise or even worse, trying to break them up to get to his lady, the sword is coming out. No one harasses Silver VanRouge's girl (or women in Silver's life in general) and gets away with it. This honestly goes for Malleus and Sebek's girlfriend/wives as well; Silver looks out for them too if the boys aren't there to do it themselves.

Sebek: Gentleman #3 but spicy Nat Geo; Sebek gets heated. Who does this fool think he is? He's got another thing coming if he thinks that Sebek Zigvolt is just gonna roll over and accept defeat! Maybe it's the crocodile genes, maybe it's just the Zigvolt family ferocity, but Sebek has to put effort into not absolutely turning this situation into a pissing contest with said rival. Sure he's a very intelligent young man, strong, disciplined, etc. he's anything but some meatheaded jock! But...bless his heart, Sebek is a competitive, stubborn guy. Sometimes to his reputation's detriment. If the rival intentionally tries to push Sebek's buttons, it wouldn't be that surprising if Sebek took the bait as a knee jerk reaction. However, in his heart, Sebek is a good respectful boy. He doesn't want his crush to feel objectified and if his actions were clearly upsetting them, Sebek would back off and cool down until he can try again in a more mature manner. That said, the minute he gets picked over the other dude, Sebek will trash talk the rival a ridiculous amount like pretty much any NRC boy would lol. He just wants to be 'the one' so badly please he needs this lolol.

[runa-falls]

Omfg I just had an amazing idea (I hope this hasn’t been done before or I’ll look stupid LMAO)

In ATSV, there’s that scene where Miguel Molly rocks miles into that train or whatever, and says that he’s been left to clean up his mess yeah? And no one ever acknowledges how much he’s really doing to keep everything together :((

Reader who appreciates everything that Miguel does for the multiverse in more ways than one. Fluff/smut porn with a little bit of plot for the distinguished gentlemen/ladies/people (I also just like longer fics lol)

Plz I’ll literally drop to my knees and beg you’re my savior 🙏🙏🙏

GN reader plzz ❤️❤️ily

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

cw: explicit (18+), angst, nipple play, comfort head, face fucking, rough handling, choking, cum eating.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: thanks for sending this in nonnie! i love angst/comfort :)) wasn't sure if you were ok with a reader who has female genitalia so i just wrote non-penetrative stuff...

thank you @campingwiththecharmings for reading this over <3 LOVE YOU BAE

masterlist

--

sometimes miguel comes home in silence.

he won't announce himself as he enters the front door or walk into every room to find and greet you with a tired smile and kiss like he usually does.

you won't even realize he's home until large arms suddenly wrap around you to pull you close late at night. Until he's guiding you into bed, holding your body so tight that you can't get away. you can't leave him.

sometimes he doesn't come back at all.

sometimes you have to sleep alone, huddling your face into his pillow, reminding yourself how capable he is -- that he's going to be okay. that he'll be back soon.

miguel is sweet. too sweet for his own good.

he works hard to make his life with you as normal as possible. he does it for you, but also for that part of him that craves domesticity.

the part that remembers having a family, a house in the suburbs, and a regular routine of waking up, eating, working, and sleeping.

he tries to keep everything bad -- all his stress, frustrations, anger, and fears -- at work. he never wants to bring it home to you. never wants you to have to hold the weight of his struggles on your shoulders.

so when he starts to lose his grip, he hides away.

and when he can't hold on any longer, he doesn't come home at all.

---

today, miguel came back quiet but not silent.

he opened the front door swiftly, kicking it shut behind him before making a beeline to the kitchen and grabbing a drink.

even if you weren't already downstairs, you'd be able to hear him.

he immediately hid away to the back porch, still in his suit, sitting on a bench that he put together when you first bought the house. his glove-covered hands clutch a cool beer that's already sweating from the balmy summer air.

you watch from the living room, perched on the couch, as he sits there in silence, barely moving a muscle.

he completely missed you when he walked in, too distracted by the mound of thoughts rushing through his mind.

this must be where he goes when he doesn't want to worry you. when he wants to be home but not present.

his dull crimson eyes drift shut as he lets the stress of the day roll off of him in waves, releasing the tension from his shoulders and the pinch at the middle of his eyebrows.

he tilts his head back until it bumps against the back wall of the house, letting out a sigh as he's supported from falling back.

slowly shutting your laptop and setting it to the side, you choose to just stare out the window and observe him as he watches the world move around him.

ever since you've known him, the fate of the multiverse has weighed on his shoulders and no matter how much he tries, how much he's done, it just keeps going. it's a never-ending cycle of protecting, saving, and destroying.

it's not healthy, but where would you be without him? where would anyone be?

there's an unspoken rule in your relationship to never talk about these occasional scenes of silence because you both know that you'd risk breaking the illusion -- the faux life where he can hang up his suit at the front door and come home to dinner with his partner.

like how it was before. how it could've been.

your shared temporary happiness, or sporadic bouts of happiness, was never meant to last long in the first place.

so why ruin something that can only be yours for a few more moments?

by the time he gets up from the old bench, the sun is setting, and his beer is long drained, bottle dangling prettily from his long fingers.

you don't even realize the hours of silence you've shared with him through the glass window until you hear the back door squeak open.

you look up and meet his eyes as he stands there frozen. he wasn't expecting you to be there. to see what you saw.

"...have you been there the whole time?" the door clicks shut behind him, but he stays put. you nod sheepishly, feeling like you've been caught doing something illegal. "i-i'm sorry i didn't say hi...i was distracted."

"no, it's ok. i was just answering emails--" you look down at your laptop, the one you shut off a few hours ago, "--until i decided to rest my eyes."

you aren't a very good liar, but it doesn't seem to matter. miguel hums absently, lost in his thoughts, placing his empty beer bottle on a table nearby. his movements are slower than usual when he shuffles closer to the couch.

"are you okay, honey?" you put your computer on the coffee table and turn toward him.

his eyes shut and he takes a deep breath, one hand holding onto the back of the couch for support. that answers the question for you.

you should've known not to ask that question. it never leads anywhere good. he'll either lie with a flat 'fine' or --

"I'm...tired." he finally says, a mere whisper like he doesn't want to admit it. you tilt your head, finally taking in his slouched shoulders and exhausted eyes.

of course, he's tired. he should be tired.

"come 'ere," you stretch out your arms, gesturing him to sit next to you. he walks over, plopping himself right against you, nearly sitting on you, but you don't mind. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulder, feeling him melt at your comforting touch.

it feels so good to have him in your arms again, to feel his unnatural warmth permeate through his super-suit. though you wake up in each other's arms every morning, you still crave his touch and his tendency to lean his whole weight against you like a lazy housecat.

"you've been working so hard, miguel..." he nods silently against your shoulder, nuzzling his head further into your space.

"someone has to..." he mutters, body already less tense than it was a few seconds ago.

"you don't have to, but you do anyway. you put your life on the line, day in, day out, protecting those who don't even know the dangers you're keeping them from."

he snorts, "you're making me sound a lot more heroic than i actually am. i'm just doing what needs to be done."

"you are heroic! you're a hero -- my hero."

his head lifts from your shoulder, "...really?"

his burgundy eyes sparkle when they meet yours, the first glimmer of energy that you've seen in him today. you smile, but you can't decide if it's a happy smile or not. on one hand you're sad. sad that he can't see how amazing he is, or how much he's done for the universe -- the multiverse.

but you're also happy that you get these moments with him. that you are at the receiving end of those sparkling eyes and hopeful looks. that he cares about your opinion that much.

"yes, really."

"you're not tired of me yet? of dating the busiest man in nueva york?"

"never." you lean into him, gently pressing your lips against his. you're suddenly giddy when he kisses back, lips moving expertly against yours. then he's smiling against you.

before you could pull back, he tugged you closer by the collar of your shirt, deepening the kiss, tongue tangling with yours. you giggle lightly when his hand slowly drifts down, fingers running over your chest and squeezing at your waist.

"thought you were tired?" you tease when you pull away. miguel is barely listening, too focused on pulling your shirt off. "miguel!"

"not right now, cariño. wanna see you." the cool air of the living room quickly wraps around you, your nipples pebbling right under his stare.

his eyes darken to a deep cherry hue as he teases you with a flick of his thumb. you whimper at how sensitive you feel, especially with how the texture of his gloves contrast with the softness of your skin, the delicate point of your bud.

"you're always so responsive for me..." he coos, "so nice, jus' letting me touch you like this." you gasp when he pinches you, goosebumps raising over the expanse of your body. his touch drifts down to the top of your pants, tan hands fiddling with the waistband teasingly.

you take a hold of his wrist before he could pull them down and he immediately stops, looking up at your face, wondering if he overstepped. you bite your lip as you build the courage to say what you want.

"wait, i-i wanna do something for you."

"what d'you mean?" miguel's hand comes up to cup your cheek, "you always do something for me, just by being by my side."

you want to fawn over his words, melt against his body while he does whatever he wants to you, but you quickly remind yourself that sometimes he needs to let go. that you should do the work and let him relax.

"please, miguel, just... let me." your hands move over the large bulge that presses against his flexible suit. you hear him sigh as you squeeze him gently. his hips buck into your hold, eager for your touch. "c-can you take it off please?"

"you mean you weren't just going to mouth over my suit until i cum?"

an intense heat flushes throughout your face at the idea. how filthy and needy that would be! you could imagine how his cock would throb under the material, how his cum would soak over the front of his crotch...

"i-i could--"

"-- i'm kidding, sweetheart." he chuckles, clicking a few buttons on his watch. his suit disappears without a warning and his muscled torso flexes under you from the sudden coolness of the room. he's wearing tight briefs underneath his suit, contouring his desperate hardness underneath.

you experimentally smooth a hand over him, watching avidly as the veins in his forearm pulse as he attempts holds himself back. you carefully tug his underwear down to reveal the wet mess that his dripping cock has made for you.

you run a finger over his sensitive tip and spread the precum that spills every time he takes a breath. he shivers at the feeling, eyes glowering as he watches you tease him. "are you just gonna stare or actually do something about it?" he growls, tired of the delicate touches and shy looks.

you don't answer him, instead, you dip down, licking softly over his shaft before shallowly suckling his tip into your mouth. he groans deeply, fingers instinctively burrowing into your hair without pushing you down.

"you're so sweet to me, baby. sucking my cock into your throat just to make me feel better..." you close your eyes as you start to take him deeper, swallowing around him until you feel the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. "you like this don't you?"

his grip on your head tightens when you moan around him, saliva dripping messily over his lap.

"fuck!" his hips buck and it shoves him further into your throat. not expecting the harsh intrusion, you choke around him, eyes watering as you struggle to breathe through your nose. "s-sorry, you're just so hot when you drool over me."

your legs tighten as his rough voice whispers soft apologies. he sounds so needy and desperate like he's barely holding himself back from fucking your throat.

you quickly recover with a hum, hand resting against his firm torso for support as you lift yourself off of him. he lightly holds onto your arm, staring lustfully at your flushed face and slick lips as you breathe heavily on top of him.

you're suddenly shy as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, despite sitting over him topless and cock-drunk.

"you know you can fuck my face if you want..." you offer, unable to meet his eyes. he doesn't let you look away though. his rough hand holds you by the jaw, making sure you can't escape the simmering heat in his eyes.

"don't say that baby...'cause i'll actually do it." his hips start to move as you stroke him again, fucking your fist harshly until your hand starts to tingle from the wet friction.

"...i want you to."

"really?"

"you work so hard, mig. you deserve some appreciation..."

"please, cariño..." he begs, breathlessly.

you lean over him and take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head as your tongue slicks against the underside of his shaft. he doesn't hesitate when he shoves your head down, forcing you to swallow all of him down.

he feels you gag a few times before he lets go. he almost didn't though. the feeling of your whine was euphoric as it vibrated up from your throat and against your lips. you're a mess on top of him, precum and drool coating your mouth, chin, and hands.

miguel lovingly brushes some stray hairs that have fallen in front of your face behind your ear as you continue to suck on him. he starts with soft thrusts into your mouth, dragging his cock slowly over the silk touch of your tongue. you open wide, round eyes staring politely up at him as he fucks your mouth from below.

he loves having control over you -- actually, he loves it when you give him control because it means you trust him, even after seeing all sides of him, good and bad, you're still with him.

he groans at how cute you look, his huge cock stuffing your pretty mouth. his hands move to hold both sides of your head, guiding you onto him until you can fully engulf him between your lips.

he can't hold back anymore; he needs to feel your throat tighten around him as you struggle to swallow him down your throat. he watches himself disappear down your throat, how eagerly you drink him in without a complaint.

his hips snap against your mouth, filling you over and over until your jaw aches. you whimper, heavy eyes watching as he falls apart for your mouth.

"i-i'm getting close--" he warns shakily, unable to stop his frantic movements when you look at him like that. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's spilling into your mouth. he finishes deep inside of you, cock prodding the back of your throat.

you drink him in, tasting his distinct salty sweetness, listening to his delicious groans as he comes down from his high. he jerks when your soft touches start to push him towards overstimulation, moans turning desperate.

"baby, enough, please."

you release him from your mouth, lips tingly and plump.

"feel better?" you sound raspy, even with how quietly you're speaking.

"i feel amazing, mi vida." he pulls you on top of him and holds you close (though it's insanely hot with your skin pressed against his like this). you cuddle him back, smiling as he pecks your tacky neck and shoulder lazily.

[halowishes]

my fav fics of 2024!!

i wanted to share my other recs that i read before i started my lists and ones that just deserve MORE recognition/ changed me/ inspire me to live my life.

(not ranked, just jumbled together)

fandoms: mostly haikyuu & some demon slayer

(skts if the ship is unspecified)

red dahlia

e. 103k+. ongoing. handmaiden au.

guys. this was probably the fic that made me fall in love with sakuatsu. fairycake always does impeccable world building and splendid writing. this fic has such flair and style— it’s in both povs so you can feel all the nuance. and the PLOT. the DIALOGUE. the IMAGERY. god this is really such a wonderful fic and i’m dying to find out what happens next!!

play among the stars

e. 105k. sci-fi/ rom-com/ drama?

ok so there’s a jail on the moon. kiyoomi is a guard and atsumu is a prisoner! i had so much fun reading this. i’ve never read anything like it. it was intense but well-paced, dramatic yet comedic, serious and silly! kiyoomi had some really beautiful development, and atsumu’s character was a treasure. every chapter was gorgeous but i ESPECIALLY love the last few.

in transit — kageyama x hinata

t. 4.7k. canon universe.

one of the first hq fics i read. so sweet and felt very loyal to the anime. i also just thought the image of kageyama playing basketball was so funny. this fic introduced me to the world of hq fanfic so i’ll always be thankful for it.

in another life — bokuto x akaashi

t. 23k. mcd/ hospital au.

honestly? heartbreaking. soul crushing. i’ll randomly remember parts of it and just sit in silence for a bit. this fic is probably why i actually haven’t really sought out any other bokuaka… i just end up thinking about this😭 AND ITS SO WELL WRITTEN. the storyline is so precise and clean, but it packs a punch (that ends in tears). i wondered how the hell it had so many hits but i get it. i really do. and i’m a changed person because of it.

three sheets to the wind

m. 117k. pirate au.

i am actually very obsessed with atsumu teaching kiyoomi how to let loose and feel the sun on your skin and be honest and real. also such a fan of atsumu’s casual poetry because when you’re obsessed with someone, words can just roll off the tongue. very big believer of love inspiring courage and bravery.

insert coin to play

e. 178k. cyberpunk au.

we all know how much i love this but what does it for me is how it understands kiyoomi’s characteristics: he’s blunt, strong, determined, and a bit irrational. i love loud and proud fighter atsumu, but kiyoomi is no less weaker just because he’s quiet. and i will always always always remember that scene in the club where they talked about a world if they were ordinary. anyways. i can always talk about this fic.

heirs

e. 237k. corporate & soulmate au.

this was the slow burn of the year. yes the fic was about love and choice and agency, but also duty, piety, and power. it was provoking and thoughtful and dramatic (in a good way). i actually felt the anger, betrayal, and shame of those characters because the plot is just that intense.

again, like this

e. 55k. mid time skip.

this really is my comfort fic. i’ve read it so often i can probably tell you verbatim every plot point. but i can’t help it because they are so tender. so innocent and raw and real. they make each other better and it’s such a pleasure to read. and (you got me) the smut was really really good ok?😭😭

the tide will turn

e. 80.8k. titanic au.

there’s not much i can say because of spoilers but GOD. this fic is so luxurious and unreal. i was obsessed with the characters and finding out what came next. it was a thrilling and emotional read (definitely cried). the fic was so immersive and the last few chapters stuck with me.

afflictions for below-average asian-americans

t. 7.5k. american suburbia au.

genuine, embarrassing, overwhelming, inexplicable. the character development is so special and subtle, yet inspiring. although the premise comes off as niche, i think anyone can relate to feelings of envy and insecurity. this seriously made me appreciate my younger self more <3.

do i dare disturb the universe?

t. 14.9k. parallel timeline.

*screams*. i need more second chance fics. i have a deep rooted aversion to failure and making mistakes so stories like these help me unlearn that. generally, there’s no right or wrong in how to live your life so why aren’t we just doing what we can to be fulfilled and loved? very important fic about listening to your heart!! also: highlights the painfully beautiful mundane aspects of domestic life.

it drives you crazy getting old

m. 45.9k. 13 going on 30-ish au.

there is something so comforting about reading a young skts in their 32 year old selves. the fic is about learning how to be patient, to be vulnerable, to love. growing up can be so scary but this fic is a gentle reminder that everything will work itself out and you never have to do it alone. you may not end up where you thought, and that’s okay.

bound

e. 68.1k. actors au.

what i admire about this fic is how generous it is. the characters make mistakes, they say and do things they don’t mean, they can be unhealthy and miscommunicate. but at the end of the day, they’re so patient and loving that the stars align for them because they deserved that happy ending. (and that speech at the end was just too good not to include. it makes me cry every time.)

rain on your wedding day

g. 4.6k. skts wedding.

the joys of celebrating love. the joys of having a community who supports you and will do anything to see you happy. the joys of spending the rest of your life with Your Person. i don’t care if it’s a fanfic, it’s canon TO ME.

how to NOT fall in love with your flatmate’s twin

m. 46.7k. mid-time skip.

while atsumu and kiyoomi’s budding relationship is delightful and the twins’ characters are superb, i will always remember this fic for the side plot of kiyoomi learning to reconnect with his mother. it’s simple yet so powerful. this fic makes me appreciate my parents, siblings, and everything university gave me :’).

burden of blame

e. 91.2k. yakuza au.

if there’s anything to know about me it is that i LOVE a thriller. the plot of this fic is so buzzing with life and mystery. also i’m a SUCKER for bossy ass kiyoomi x nonstop yapper atsumu. it just amplifies the banter and tension by a mile. and selfless, impulsive atsumu will always have a place in my heart <3.

constellations we called home

e. 53.5k. end of the world au.

i read this fic over a month ago but i still can’t be normal about it. it’s extravagant, emotional, and honestly punched a hole through my heart that i might never recover from (like all apocalypse aus). this fic reminds me of the “would you rather have a good thing that ends or never have it at all” debate. (i will always choose to have a good thing).

sketches of a firefly

e. 88.7k. magic realism/ returning to a small town au.

recently featured in my monthly recs but i don’t care! this fic made me want to be a kid again. it’s literally and figuratively magical. the storytelling amazed me and the tension was soooo vivid. this is a very worthy read but READ THE TAGS.

stockholm syndrome isn’t real

e. 50.2k. heist au.

also mentioned in my dec recs! i just love how this fic read like an action comedy movie. the punchy humor and the well paced scenes made it go by like my dream sakuatsu film. i’m still wrapping my head around how intricate the dynamics and plot of this fic are!

terminal curiosity

e. 9 works, each 10k+. canon universe.

we all read it, we all know it’s good. there’s nothing new i can say about it but i do go back and read it every couple months. (laid bare & thunder in a bottle are my favs <3).

demon slayer

blue — giyuu x sabito

t. 17.2k. canon divergence.

giyuu wakes up in an au where sabito lives. the fic was so gentle and loving and careful. giyuu’s disbelief and the absurdity of it all— you feel all of that with this fic. the story was just so wholesome and made me love giyuu.

uh huh, honey — giyuu x sanemi

e. 151k. pornstar au😭😭

ok i realize the premise is bonkers but the plot is actually pretty deep😭 this fic was prime “opposites attract” in that the characters complement each other perfectly. really beautiful imagery, hilarious dialogue, and such a silly premise but full of admiration and thought.

and that’s my year of fanfic! i almost called this my top 24 fics of 2024 but then i thought “there’s no way i have 24 favs” and here i am… only two short.

but yeah! i’m glad to be back in fandom culture because it really is what got me through tough times. i hope you give these fics a chance or (most likely) if you’ve already read them, let me know what you thought about them!! (if you want more recs check my halo reads tag).

i’m not sure how long these monthly recs will last as i move onto a new part of my life, but i do hope you all find some community in these posts <3

lots of love ALWAYS,

halo <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Daddy Lessons 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Rafe Cameron

Summary: You agree to tutor for the Cameron's, but find your student less than cooperative.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There aren’t many summer jobs in Hammer Ford, but you promised your parents you would find something. Without any response from the grocery store, cafe, or library, your search is hopeless. That’s until you ran into Rose Cameron.

“Weren’t you valedictorian?” She asked.

The scene plays over in your head as you step off your bike to walk it up the hill. What luck that she found you picking out flowers with your mother. Almost as if she’d been looking for you.

“Uh, yeah, last year,” you smiled. 

It’s been a year since high school ended, since then you’d spent two semesters outside the hamlet. In the city, people don’t just come up to you for no reason, and rarely a good one. Nor do they know you by name. Your home town seems more quaint the longer you’re away from campus.

“Great, I need a tutor,” she tutted, “how’s fifty an hour?”

You shake your head as you straddle your bike again. It’s an offer you really can’t pass up, even if the Camerons weren’t the most friendly family in Hammer Ford. It doesn’t matter as long as you can tell your parents you have a job.

You pedal east towards the house on the hill. You’ve never been up there. Not even in high school when everyone was going on about the ragers at the Cameron ranch. It was never really your scene. That and you weren’t invited.

You slow as you approach the low fence, breathless as you stop by the closed gate. Do you let yourself in? There’s a gold bell mounted on the post. You ring it and it sends a thunderous toll through the air. 

You wait, looking around, though you don’t know if anyone’s coming. Someone appears across the field. You recognise Ward Cameron as he nears, waving a gloved hand as he does.

“Hi, Mr. Cameron, um…” you hold onto your handlebars and dismount, “Rose, uh, asked me to drop by.”

“Sure thing,” he unhooks the inside of the gate, “I was just brushing Juliet.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile.

“You can work in the dining room if that works, or the back porch? It’s pretty nice out,” he lets you through the gate and secures it before he points you towards the house. “Really glad you could come out. We went to an agency in the city but they wanted us to go to them.”

“Um, yeah, sure, no problem,” you peer over at a foal and its mother in a pen, “nice place.”

“You think so? Does it look different in the day?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I know about the parties,” he chortles, “it’s fine.”

“Well, I never…” you rub the back of your neck, “anyway, I guess we can study where Sarah wants.”

“Sarah?”

“Oh, erm, Wheezie?” You wonder.

“Did Rose not… explain?”

“I… assumed, well, she just said you needed a tutor so I thought…” You blink and chew your lip, “Rafe?”

He laughs again, “the one and only. We’re tryna get him back in good graces. He has a conditional offer in the city but he has to take an entrance exam.”

“Right,” you try not to show your discomfort. 

Rafe is a year older than you. Even so, he never failed to knock your books out of your hands or laugh in your direction. When he graduated, the student populace sighed in relief but he only made it through one semester in college before he flunked out.

“He’s not the kind for ranch work,” Ward says as he gestures you up the front steps, “frankly, I don’t know what he’s cut out for but a degree will at least give him some prospects.”

“Mhmm,” you drone nervously. If Rose had said so, you may not have been so eager. You just assumed it would be one of the two Wards still enrolled in school.

“He should be around–” he pulls open the front door and lets you in first.

You step aside to slip your shoes off as he hollers for Rafe. You glance out the screen door and wonder if you can come up with a good excuse. Your mind is racing but you come up with nothing. 

“What?” Rafe snarls as he traipses in through a broad archway.

“Tutor’s here,” Ward says.

“Tutor?” Rafe mutters.

“I told you,” he chides, “go get your books.”

“Dad, I told you, I’ll write the damn test–”

“And you’ll pass,” Ward insists, “books. Now.”

Rafe huffs and stomps upstairs. You turn around to watch him go. Ward shakes his head and beckons you onwards. You marvel at the neat interior. It’s all a lot more modern than the rest of Hammer Ford. A rustic contemporary mix of sleek white and faded pine.

“Feel free to help yourself to some water, or there’s a Keurig,” Ward offers, “I’d get you some myself but…” he holds up his gloved hands, “I doubt you like the taste of horse hair.”

You smile and nod as you slip your bag off your shoulder. 

“Thanks, uh, I’m good,” you say.

“Don’t let him get to you. I know how he can be. He gives you any trouble, I’ll deal with him.”

“Sure, uh, no, shouldn’t be an issue,” you shrug, though you sound less than convincing.

“I’ll be around,” he says and taps the door frame as he leaves.

You sit as he goes and you open your laptop on the table. Your parents bought the used model for your first year of college. It’s a bit slow but it works. You’ll just need the wifi.

A sudden slam makes you yipe and jolts the table. You look up as Rafe stands across from you, scowling. Behind your laptop, there’s several textbooks and a notebook with curling pages. You try to smile but your lips only tremble.

“Oh, hey,” you eke out, “uh, so… we can start on comprehensive literature–”

“Fuck off, dork,” he drops into the chair. 

“Well I… your dad–”

“My dad wants me to sit here and waste his money, sure thing,” he crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, “but i’m not takin’ no lessons from you.”

“Right, well, I…” you don’t know what to say. “Can I have the wifi at least?”

He doesn’t acknowledge your question as he pulls out his phone. You think he’s looking it up but he just sits and scrolls, his floppy hair drooping down his forehead. You fidget and flutter your fingers listlessly over the keyboard.

You should just go but you need the money. You close the laptop and reach for one of the textbooks. You open it and smooth the pages with your hand.

“Right, rules of grammar,” you begin, “nouns, pronouns, verbs–”

“Fucking dweeb,” he drops his phone and stands up, “for someone so smart, you sure are fucking dumb.”

“Identifying sentences…” you focus on the page as he paces.

“You think you’re so fucking clever,” he startles you as he pulls out the chair next to you, sitting in it as his elbow hits the table.

“Read the following and underline–” you angle the book towards him, silence by a jarring squeeze on your throat.

You recoil as his hand closes on the front of your neck and you push yourself back in the chair. You grab his wrist and choke, wiggling in your seat. What is he doing?

“What–”

“Shhhhh,” he puts his finger to his lips then presses it to yours, “you talk too much.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, pulling helplessly on his arm. He smirks as he leans forward, pulling you towards him.

“You think you’re better than me?” He snarls, “let’s see about that.”

[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [8] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of assault, abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11.2k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 7 >> Part 8

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

It’s been a week since you took unwilling part in the biggest scandal to overtake the ton this entire season, and you’re feeling more and more certain with each passing day that your reputation will never recover.

You thought the same thing at the beginning of the season, just a few months ago. At the time, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. Funny how time ends up proving you wrong. 

Of course, you have no idea how the ton is receiving any of the gossip. You know the facts, as does everyone else who was in the room when it all happened, but that doesn’t matter. Someone will undoubtedly distort them for the sake of a good story. Your stepmother has been refusing all calls on your behalf, though, so you have no clue what the ton is saying. It’s not like she would tell you, anyway. The morning after the Jung ball she slapped you across the face so hard you saw stars, and you had to listen to her scream at you for an hour after that. When you tried to ask her what people were saying about you a few days ago, she gave you another mark to match the first one.

The bruises still hurt to the touch. 

Maybe it’s just as well. You’re not sure you want to know what anyone is saying. The gossip about you and Beomgyu had hardly abated before the Jung ball, and with all the speculation then about you being sort of shameless whore able to seduce men into offering you marriage proposals, you can only imagine what they’re saying about you now. They probably think you seduced Lord Cho, too. 

They probably think you deserved whatever he intended to do to you. 

Which isn’t true. You never asked for any sort of physical relationship with him, never even considered it. You said no when he offered it—if the word offered could even describe the situation. Stupid as it is, you really did believe he wanted to marry you, and his words cut you deep when you learned of his true intentions. But the cynical part of you can’t help but feel like you got what was coming to you. You should have known better—known that no one would truly ever want to marry you, because you have nothing to offer. Maybe it’s true that you aren’t fit for anything more than a mistress. 

If you didn’t have so much damn pride, maybe you’d have been able to accept that by now. 

You can forget any delusions of being married, now. If you weren’t already ruined by Beomgyu leaving you after the waltz, surely this incident has marked you as a fallen woman—or at least as close to it as you can get without having actually been deflowered. Never mind that you never asked for it. Never mind that you had to beat him off with a damn candlestick. No one wants a woman who’s been sullied by another man’s touch, no matter how unwarranted. 

Maybe it’s really time for you to start making plans to run away. 

Even as the thought crosses your mind, though, you have to stifle a snort. Pausing in the middle of scrubbing out a large pot, you close your eyes for just a moment, hoping to clear out all of your remaining stupid thoughts. Run away, yes? With what money? You have nothing. This family has nothing. There’s nothing useful you can even steal from the house, and your father isn’t coming back with any money. This, you know now. 

You can still hear the terrible silence that accompanied the opening of that letter. Your stepmother’s simmering rage as her eyes scanned every carefully penned line that told of the passing of your father, and the loss of any remnants of the family fortune at the hands of his gambling addiction. You had no idea he had such an addiction. The few times you saw him over the past decade, he always seemed so stoic, so upright. You never thought he could have been hiding something so terrible behind that façade. 

But he was. And now he is dead, and he has passed nothing onto you except a mountain of terrible fortune. 

There’s really no end to it. You sigh, returning to the pot still half covered in suds in the sink. Maybe this is for the better. You’ll grow into a spinster, hide yourself from society with your position as a servant in this household, and fade away from public attention. In a few years, people will forget about everything. Maybe. Hopefully. And then you’ll have some peace of mind. 

…There’s no real hope of that, though. You’ll never have peace as long as you live with your stepmother. Maybe that’s your eternal punishment for all the stupid choices you made this season—having to live with her until she dies, or you do. 

At least she’s gone now. She left a while ago to make some morning calls, you think. You tried to ask who she was going to meet and she just snapped that she was trying to clean up the mess you had made of yourself and your family this season. 

Very useful information, that was. You didn’t press though. You didn’t want to add on to the collection of bruises already beginning to bloom across your cheek. 

She’s gone now, though, and you haven’t heard her return, so you have some time to breathe without her sneering down her nose at you every minute of the day. The silence is nice even if you know it’ll be short lived.

Something sounds in the hall as you’re scrubbing the last pot clean. You stiffen, thinking it might be your stepmother, but it still feels like it hasn’t been long since she left—surely she wouldn’t be back so soon? You look over at Soyoung, who’s helping you scrub away. Her raised eyebrow indicates she’s as confused as you are.

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and then you hear Brighton speaking. Your confusion increases by the second—surely no one has any reason to call, not when your stepmother has been chasing away callers almost every day. You wonder if Brighton will have them leave too, whoever they are, but he likely won’t. Without your stepmother here, he would probably defer to you, unless she left him with explicit instructions not to. Though he might disobey them anyway. The staff here don’t take very kindly to your stepmother. 

The thought makes you smile, but that smile quickly begins to drop as Brighton’s characteristic light footsteps sound closer and closer to the kitchen. You finish rinsing off the last pot just as he enters the kitchen, standing primly in the doorway. 

“Miss L/N.” 

You turn around, wiping your hands on your apron. “Yes, Brighton?”

A hint of distaste edges his words. “Mr. Choi has come to call.”

Despite the situation, you almost smile. You can’t say you don’t appreciate the staff’s quiet support at your situation. No doubt they’ve heard all manner of gossip from the other servants around town, but you told Soyoung what truly happened so your staff has been very kind to you since everything started going downhill. Brighton in particular has taken to speaking the Choi name with a subtle, almost undetectable annoyance that only butlers can emulate, and you won’t deny that it makes you feel a little better, sometimes. Not because you hate Beomgyu—you wish you could hate him, it would make everything so much easier—but because it’s nice to know that someone has your back.

The almost smile slips off your face almost as easily as it came, though. Because you really don’t know if you want to see him. He was right about Lord Cho, right from the start—and all you and everyone else did was just brush his concern off as jealousy. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to know what he has to say. And truth be told, you’re still not entirely sure you forgive him for what he did at the Haynesworth ball. He tried to explain when he called the last time. You didn’t let him. You’re still not sure if you want to let him. Anger is the only shield you have now against your pain and you’re not ready to give up its embrace so soon, even if its warmth is more suffocating than nourishing. 

There is another warmth that is nourishing, though. A warmth you’ve only ever felt with those you loved. Delia, Henry, Soyoung…

And Beomgyu, too.

All of the residual anger drains out of your body, leaving you cold and a little empty. You look down at yourself, at your dirty servant’s garb splashed with water and soap, at your tender hands still holding a sponge covered in suds. You should hear him out, let him speak, but you’re just…so tired. You want this all to be over. And anyway, even if you knew you wanted to speak with him, you don’t know when your stepmother will return from her own morning calls—calls meant to repair your reputation, whatever the hell that means. She might come back in the middle of a conversation and you really don’t want to know what would happen then. 

That’s just an excuse, though. You know that just the thought of your stepmother wouldn’t be able to stop you from doing anything you really wanted to. The question is, then, do you really want to see Beomgyu? Do you really?

“For what it is worth,” Brighton says, interrupting your thoughts, “he has tried to call every morning since the Jung ball, Miss L/N.” He twists his hands together in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “Your stepmother turned him away each time, but…perhaps he truly does have something to say.”

Every morning since the Jung ball. You blink. That’s…dedication. It reminds you an awful lot of how he tried to see you almost every day for a week after the Haynesworth ball, which in turn reminds you of that terrible last conversation you shared with him. He had wanted to explain himself. You hadn’t let him. Instead, you’d told him never to come back and he had heeded your words then, but now he’s returned. 

Part of you still hurts at what he did to you—or rather, what he didn’t do. Even now you can still call up some of that anger and you try to wrap it around you like a cloak, but it isn’t doesn’t work anymore. There isn’t enough anger left to shield you, which just leaves you open. Raw. Vulnerable to your emotions. 

The emotions telling you to listen to him this time, instead of just sending him away. 

You stare at your hands. You know that Beomgyu wouldn’t hold it against you if you told him to leave. He wouldn’t argue. He would give you space. And you really, really hate that. If he wasn’t so honorable, it would be so much easier to hate him. You would never have fallen in love with him in the first place. 

Life would be so much easier, then. 

But he is honorable. You may still be angry at what he did at the Haynesworth ball, but you also have the grudging grace (or maybe the idiocy) to understand that one mistake does not dictate a person’s entire character. You remember Beomgyu holding you as you shook so badly in his arms just moments after Lord Cho had tried to lay his hands on you, and you can’t help but recall how safe you felt in his hold. Not completely so—Lord Cho was right there, obviously you wouldn’t feel completely fine—but Beomgyu lent a steadiness to the moment that you needed, desperately. You trusted him without thinking. Without even feeling. 

Maybe that says something. Maybe that says a lot of things. 

You swallow hard. He’s already in your house. He’s come by every day, even though he’s been turned away each time—not by your choice, but by your stepmother’s. This might be the only chance you get to hear him out. 

You’d be a fool not to take it.

“Do you know when my stepmother will be back?” you ask quietly. 

“She left not long ago,” Brighton replies. “I do not know for certain, but I would estimate you have at least two hours before she returns.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Two hours is likely enough time to talk. Sabine is taking care of the children in the nursery, which leaves Soyoung or Brighton to chaperone. You don’t have time to change or to cover up the marks on your cheek, but you don’t really want to. Part of you wants to approach Beomgyu with this part of yourself on display. To let him see you as you are. 

You stand up and take a deep breath. “Then bring him in.”

. . . . .

When your butler bids him to come inside, Beomgyu has to bite his tongue to stifle his shock. It’s been a week since the Jung ball and though he’s called every morning since then, the response has always been the same—that you aren’t taking visitors, and won’t be for the near future. The setup feels eerily familiar to when he tried to see you after the Haynesworth ball, though he supposes that is just what comes with scandal. The ton’s memory is like that of a goldfish. Once something else happens, they move on quickly. 

In theory, at least. In practice, the memories stick around for a bit longer than gossip suggests. 

Today, though, the butler—Brighton, he thinks—allows him inside. Before shutting the door, Beomgyu sees him cast a furtive glance towards the street, which leads Beomgyu to believe he might not actually be allowed to be here. Still, he appreciates being let in so he doesn’t comment as the butler leads him through the short hallway and into the drawing room. He then disappears to find you.

It seems to take forever for the butler to return, or at least for Beomgyu to hear any sounds indicating you might actually see him. He half expects to be told to leave and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you for it. He can’t really think of a reason why you would want to see him in the first place, but he just wants to make sure you are all right. Or as all right you can be after what happened. 

God, he really wishes he had done Lord Cho’s face in. The man would have deserved it—just one quick punch to break his nose. But then Beomgyu wouldn’t have been there to catch you when the shock set in and you nearly fell, your entire body trembling as you sank into his arms. Anyway, you already hit Lord Cho over the head with that silver candlestick, and that gave Beomgyu more than enough satisfaction to witness. 

Footsteps sound down the hall—more than one pair, it seems. Beomgyu straightens where he stands and his heart begins to race as you step into the room. 

He almost gasps but bites his tongue just in time. In all the times he’s seen you, you’ve never not been dressed for society—fine gowns, light jewelry, pretty smiles. Now, though, Beomgyu almost doesn’t recognize you. 

Dressed in a plain servant’s garb, apron still damp and slightly stained, you stare back at him, expressionless. Your hands are bare, cracked and raw, and a bruise swells dark on your cheek. Anger twists in Beomgyu’s stomach when he realizes it looks very much like the mark left if someone had hit you. There’s no doubt it was your stepmother. 

You seem to track his gaze, unsurprised at whatever you find in his expression. Something hard glints in your eyes and Beomgyu recognizes it as a test. You could have made him wait for you to change, to get ready for a typical call, but you didn’t. You chose to show yourself like this, rags and calluses and all, for a reason.

Well, if this is a test, then he will do all he can to pass it. Beomgyu holds himself tall and bows just as he always has even though the bruise on your cheek makes him want to throttle something. “Miss L/N,” he says in greeting. 

You look back at him steadily for a moment. Then suddenly your shoulders slump, as though you can’t hold yourself up anymore. “Mr. Choi,” you say wearily. “Why are you here?”

Your refusal to call him by his given name hurts more than it should, but Beomgyu forces the pain to pass. It’s no less than he deserves. “I wanted to see if you were all right,” he replies quietly. 

As the words come out of his mouth, he realizes how stupid they are. Obviously you aren’t fine. After what happened, no one in your situation would have been fine. The evidence is staring him right in the face—even if it weren’t for the bruise, the weariness on your face speaks volumes. 

“Well, you have seen me.” The corners of your lips lift slightly, though there is no mirth in the movement. “If that is all, I will be going now.” You turn around as though to leave. 

Beomgyu moves before he even realizes it. You flinch when he catches your wrist, but to his surprise, you don’t pull away. Not immediately. “Y/N,” he says, and you seem to shudder in his hold like when he held you that night. “Please.”

You remain silent for a moment. “Please, what, Mr. Choi?” you ask harshly. “You got what you wanted. You saw me. What else could you need?” You laugh. The sound scratches at Beomgyu’s ears. “Do you want to gloat? Over the fact that you were right about Lord Cho, and I wasn’t? Because that’s low, low even for you—”

Beomgyu takes a small step forward and you cut yourself off. He lets your words pass over him—you’re angry. Maybe even frightened. You’ve spat insults at him before that you actually meant, so Beomgyu knows the difference between that and you simply lashing out from your pain. “I didn’t come to gloat,” he says quietly. 

Your expression crumples. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” His next words come unbidden. “And I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

A long pause follows his unplanned declaration. Beomgyu doesn’t panic, though. Because even though he hadn’t intended to give his proposal right then and there, he still meant the words. They just came out a little early. 

“Why?” you finally ask. 

Beomgyu’s heart nearly breaks at your shattered expression, the obvious exhaustion written all over your face. You didn’t deserve this—none of it. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot, if only he hadn’t run away instead of facing his feelings earlier… “Because I love you,” he says, voice trembling. “And if you will allow me, I should like to explain.”

He watches you swallow, throat bobbing as you look down at where his hand still clasps your wrist. You keep looking there for a very long time. “Then explain,” you finally allow, but you don’t look back up at him. 

Beomgyu tries to hide how much that hurts him. It isn’t as though he has a right to feel hurt, anyway. “I am…incredibly sorry for what I did. Or what I didn’t do, I suppose.” He swallows. “I am well aware that no verbal apology of mine could ever make up for leaving you at the Haynesworth ball and I do not intend to make excuses.”

Your eyes finally shift up to his. There’s nothing in your gaze, nothing to give any indication that what he’s saying is right, but Beomgyu has been a coward long enough and he won’t continue that streak now. “I should not have asked you to waltz.” 

Your gaze shutters immediately and you go to pull away. Beomgyu almost panics and tugs your wrist back. “I did not mean it that way,” he says quickly. “I only meant…I was not proper. I should have asked if you had permission first. I should have asked if you were fine with it. I should have remembered the social repercussions of asking you to share such a dance.”

You jerk your wrist out of his hand, but you don’t leave. “Then why didn’t you?” you ask sharply. 

Beomgyu winces. There’s really no way to make “Lord Cho smirked at me which made me extremely upset” sound any better than that, but he has to try. “I was already upset that Lord Cho had been keeping your attentions the entire evening,” he says. Embarrassment creeps its way up his neck. “I was jealous. And at some point, when I was about to just leave the whole affair all together, he…gave me a look, that made me believe he was doing this on purpose. That he had been keeping you engaged the entire evening to avoid me.” The words, once they leave his lips, sound entirely self-serving and rather egotistic. But he swore to himself he would honest and, well, this is what he felt. “I probably sound rather self-centered,” he admits. “But it seemed that way to me.”

You don’t say anything. You hardly react, even. Beomgyu supposes this is at least better than if you were to scoff at him immediately. “I wanted to dance with you,” he says quietly. “I had waited several hours that night just for the hope of speaking to you. I did not realize it was a waltz before we took to the ballroom floor, but even then, at first, I truly did not care. In fact, I was enjoying it. You…you were so beautiful. You always have been.” He swallows. “But there was a moment where we met eyes and I…it hit me then. That I was in love with you.”

You’ve gone as still as a statue. Only your eyes move, warily tracking his every movement. 

“I was scared. Terrified.” Beomgyu clenches his hands at his sides and feels his nails biting sharply into his palms. “I suppose I had some inkling of it before, but I refused to think of it. I was too scared to—I had hated you for so long and we’d only been civil for a few months. I thought, surely, it could not be so. I could not love you in such a short time. But as we were dancing, and as I held you so…” Against his will, his eyes drift to your lips. “I remembered our kiss,” he says quietly. “And I knew, then, that I loved you.”

This time, you do scoff. “You have a funny way of showing it,” you say, bitterness coating every word. 

Beomgyu flinches, but it isn’t as if your words aren’t deserved. “I was a coward,” he admits. “An incredible coward. I realized it then and I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t think with everyone around us and I was so confused and terrified by the prospect of loving you that I just…ran.” He drops his head, finally. 

“You were so scared of loving me.” You snort. “Me. Yes. Because I’m just another one of the dowry-less crowd, full of scandal and Lady Whistledown mentions. Who in their right mind would ever fall in love with me?”

“It wasn’t because of that!” Beomgyu looks up at you, stricken. “Y/N—Miss L/N—do you have any idea how impressive you are?”

For the first time today, you look shocked into speechlessness. Beomgyu’s own face is starting to redden but he forges on. “You—I was terrified of how quickly I had fallen in love with you,” he gets out. “For weeks after we kissed, I couldn’t stop dreaming of it. I wanted to kiss you again. So badly. And it was—terrible. I wanted to be around you and only you. I was jealous of Lord Cho and anyone who seemed to be interested in asking for your hand. But I just could not believe I was in love with you, because you are…well, you.” He gestures vaguely. “Sweet, kind, intelligent, witty…”

God, the more he talks, the stupider he feels for not having realized his feelings sooner. 

“You are you, Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says. “Incredibly lovely and impressive, extraordinarily strong and brave.” A wave of shame washes over him at the truth of his words. You apologized first. You asked to be friends first. Every step of your relationship beyond the first fake deal was initiated by you, and the moment he realized his feelings, all he did was run. “I was terrified of how deeply I had fallen for you,” he says quietly. “Terrified of how much I felt for you in such a short time. It was cowardly of me to run. I should have stayed with you, and I will forever regret that. In the moment, though…it was too much for me to process all at once” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. But that is my explanation, in the end. As idiotic as it sounds.”

You look away for a moment. Your cheek turns to him, and again Beomgyu sees the bruise your stepmother left on your skin. The momentary anger bolsters him enough to meet your gaze when you turn back to him. “I trusted you, you know.” More than your words, the exhaustion in your voice strikes Beomgyu to the core. “I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” You laugh slightly, but there is no humor in the sound. “I thought you might propose to me then.”

Beomgyu bows his head. “I am incredibly sorry,” he says quietly. “Nothing can excuse what I did.”

“It can’t,” you agree. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. It has already happened, and anyway, it’s not the worst thing a man has done to me this season.”

He stares at you. Did you just joke about Lord Cho’s assault? 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, hunching into yourself. “It’s true.”

Beomgyu swallows. “I…suppose it is,” he mumbles. 

For a long moment, you two remain silent. “Nothing may excuse what you did,” you finally say, “but at least I can understand it.” And as Beomgyu is reeling from your response, trying to make sense of it, you step back. “I accept your apology,” you say. “And I appreciate it. But I think it is best that you go now, Mr. Choi.” You start to walk away. “Brighton will see you out.”

Beomgyu gapes, even as the butler comes back into the room. You said you understood. Understood feeling so strongly that it terrified you, understood the urge to run away that he gave in to—

Brighton steps toward him but Beomgyu ignores him, catching your wrist again. “Y/N!”

You stop, but you don’t look back. “What?”

Beomgyu senses that he only has one chance for this. Just one chance to say the right thing, or you’ll walk away and leave him forever. “What did you mean,” he asks, voice ragged, “when you said you understood?”

You turn to him, derision scrawled across your face. “You are a true idiot,” you snap, “if you believe you were the only one who dreamed of the kiss for days afterward.” Then you turn again and try to walk away, but Beomgyu keeps his grip on your wrist. “What is it now?” you snarl, whirling back around.

Everything is hitting him too hard, too fast, but this time, instead of running, Beomgyu stays put. You dreamed of the kiss. You thought of it for days on end just as he did, your eyes drifting to his lips the way his drifted to yours. Suddenly Beomgyu remembers moments when he saw your gaze fixated on his mouth for mere fractions of a second before you returned to the conversation, moments when you smiled at him and there was a shyness in your expression that he had never seen before…

He remembers the waltz and how you settled so comfortably into his hold, eyes sparkling, lips parted as he lowered you into the crook of his arm. You were so warm. So trusting. So full of a joy and hope that made his heart race. 

“I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” 

What it would mean to me. 

Beomgyu is an idiot. An absolute idiot. “Miss L/N,” he says slowly, “do you love me?”

Your eyes shutter. “It doesn’t matter.” 

He holds your gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you grit out. You try to tug yourself away but he won’t let go. “Let go of me!”

He releases you immediately, memories of your cries a week ago forcing his hand open as soon as the words leave your mouth. But he doesn’t let you run away. “Answer my question,” he says. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you hiss. Beomgyu hears panic rising in your voice, some sort of fear pushing anger into your tone that he knows isn’t real. “What about that doesn’t make sense to you?”

“It does matter,” he says, cutting through your panic. “Because I asked you a question before that you still haven’t answered.”

You fall silent. 

“I asked you to marry me,” he says quietly, each word like a gunshot in the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Brighton slip out of the room again. 

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. It should discourage Beomgyu, but strangely, in the face of your silence, he feels more hopeful. “So I ask you again, Miss L/N,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “do you love me?”

“Why do you need to know?” you ask, voice less sharp, more pleading. “It doesn’t matter, Beomgyu!”

“If you can say no, then I’ll leave.” He puts his hands up in surrender, but privately he feels even more hope with the sound of his name from your lips. “I swear it. But you must answer me.” His voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Do you love me?”

Your silence is more telling than anything you said before.

Beomgyu takes a leap of faith. “If you do…” He swallows. “Then marry me, Y/N.” 

You stay quiet for a long time. A clock ticks nearby, slowly marking every second that passes. Beomgyu feels as wound up as a spring, his muscles so tense it almost hurts, but he doesn’t move. He won’t move. Not until you speak.

And eventually, you do. 

“My father is dead.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes widen. Your lips curve a little, but the movement holds no humor. “We received the letter a few days ago.” 

“…I am incredibly sorry.”

“I’m not.” Your words are callous but you shrug like they mean nothing—and perhaps, after all these years, they don’t. “I hardly knew him and he hardly knew any of us. All these years, we thought he was trying to make money overseas, but he had actually gambled it all away.” You shrug again. “He died over a year ago. It took that long for anyone to try and track us down. The country home will need to be sold to pay off his debts. This house is all we really have left and we might be on the verge of losing that too, so I don’t care for him at all.”

Beomgyu stays silent against the rolling tide of your fury. He has no right to judge the situation, and nothing he could say would soothe your anger anyway. He had two loving parents, a rarity in this ton—he can hardly imagine how you feel now, both biological parents dead, one having betrayed you without your knowing for years on end. 

“I didn’t tell you this for pity.” You take a deep breath, and some of the anger dissipates, replaced by your previous weariness. “But, Beomgyu…you won’t gain anything from marrying me. Nothing at all. I’m just another girl with nothing to my name except a heap of scandal. I don’t have a title. I don’t have money. I do chores in the household where I am supposed to be a lady and while I don’t care, if this were to spread to the rest of the ton, you would be ruined, too.” Beomgyu follows your gaze down to your bare hands, your palms rough and weathered, your fingertips raw and pricked. “There’s nothing for you to gain from this,” you say quietly. “Nothing at all.”

Beomgyu reaches out. When you don’t flinch away, he takes your hand. He rubs his thumb over the skin of your palm, skimming over the lines, the cracks, the scars. “I notice,” he says slowly, “that you have still not said no.”

You scoff. “Retract your proposal, and I won’t have to.”

“What if I don’t retract it?” he challenges. “Will you say no, then?”

“You’re an idiot not to!” you snap. You try to pull your hand away but this time Beomgyu doesn’t let go. You glare at him. “Did you not hear a single thing I just said? I can’t bring you anything but burden!”

“I love you.” 

With those three words, the fight drains out of you almost immediately. Your head slumps over your joined hands and when you finally look back at him, tears sparkle, unshed, in your eyes. “I love you,” Beomgyu says again and even though it feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest, the words still feel so right, leaving his lips. “I love you, and I want to be with you. To be with you could never be a burden to me because I love you and everything that comes with you.” You open your mouth to say something but he barrels on. “I don’t care if you have no dowry. I’ve already told you it’s an outdated notion and I care nothing for it, and besides, my family has more than enough money. I don’t need more.” He takes a breath. “I don’t care that your hands will never be smooth. Your scars carry the weight of the care you have for those you love, and they have no bearing on the goodness of your heart. And as for your scandals…” Beomgyu smiles a little, surprised to find some genuine humor in what he is about to say. “I will not have you bear all the burden when the fault is also mine. I am at least half as responsible for all of those scandals as you are.”

You stay quiet. Beomgyu gives up tracing your palm, instead clasping both of his hands over yours. “I love you, Y/N,” he says softly. “None of these things change that, and they never will.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say. Your voice is surprisingly steady, but the last syllable trembles just as the first tear slips out of your eye. “You’re an incredible idiot, Beomgyu. You know all of this—you know what sort of new scandal it would create if we married—”

“What does it say about you, then, that you have still not given me a reply?”

“I’m also an idiot!” you yell. “A bloody fucking stupid idiot who loves you against all of her better judgement. I loved you when you waltzed with me, I loved you when you left me, I loved you when you gave me those gloves—even though I didn’t even it know it then. I thought about you kissing me for days on end and I asked you to be my friend just so you wouldn’t stop speaking to me, looking at me, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you everywhere and not being able to talk to you. I loved you and I still love you because I’m an idiot. A bloody, stupid idiot—” You cut yourself off as tears begin to spill down your face. You harshly wipe them off. “I don’t want to say no because I love you, you stupid fool. Despite everything I still love you and I always will, and I need you to realize that this is a terrible idea because—because this will be a mistake, it will be a huge mistake for you if you marry me, but I—I don’t know if I can say no.”

Beomgyu lets go of your hand. You flinch, no doubt expecting him to step away, but he instead comes closer. This is hugely improper but Beomgyu doesn’t care as he lifts his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears as they come. “Then say yes,” he whispers.

You shake your head wildly. “This is a mistake, Beomgyu. You’re making a huge mistake.”

“You have never been a mistake,” he says quietly. “Not once. Not ever. It was only my mistakes that got us to this point. If I hadn’t been so terrified and unable to cope with my own feelings…” He swallows around the shame that rises bitterly on his tongue. “I am the one who left you at the ball. That was my mistake. But if you can still trust me, Y/N, trust me when I say that loving you was never a mistake for me.”

“I can’t do anything good for you,” you say miserably. “Society will talk about this forever.”

“They’ll talk about it forever anyway,” Beomgyu points out. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m somewhat past caring about what they think of you and me. They’ll never get the facts right, and I can’t control that, but…I know that I love you.” His thumb sweeps another tear from your cheek. “And if you love me too…”

“I do.” Your voice is hardly a whisper but the two words embed themselves in Beomgyu’s heart, warmth slowly filling his blood. “I do love you.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Beomgyu gently presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t care what the ton will say. I want you to be with me, forever. You say you can do no good for me but just having you near me…Y/N, I have never felt this way for another in my life.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer gently, gently. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. I should be honored to have you with me wherever I go. I don’t care what you can and can’t do for me. Being around you, being with you…that is all I want. All I need.”

You take a shuddering breath. “Beomgyu…”

“I’ll take you everywhere, Y/N. We’ll travel far away, go wherever and see whatever you want. We don’t need to stay here. We can deal with the ton as much or as little as you want to.” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry about your servants or your family. I will provide a dowry for Delia. I will buy the house for your brother. Your servants can travel with us or stay in the home, and I will double their wages.” He takes a deep breath. “So say yes, Y/N.”

You swallow hard.

“Say yes,” he whispers again. “Please.”

You close your eyes. Tears wet your eyelashes, and Beomgyu fights the urge to brush them away, for that would break the two of you apart. You open your eyes and they’re red from crying but in this moment, Beomgyu knows he could never tire of this. Of having you close, of seeing you close, of being able to love you like this—freely, without regrets. 

“Yes.” The word ghosts over his lips, your breath soft like the wind against his skin. “Yes, Beomgyu.” You swallow hard, and though another tear rolls down your face, Beomgyu dares to believe it isn’t from sadness—that there could be some happiness joining the myriad of emotions on your face. “I will marry you.”

. . . . .

The next morning dawns uneventfully, which almost tricks you into thinking the previous day was just a dream. There’s no proof that anything happened beyond your memories, and even then, the idea that Beomgyu proposed to you seems almost too fantastical to be true. 

But it did happen. You can still feel Beomgyu’s hands encasing yours, his thumb smoothing over the cracks and lines on your palm like his touch could take away the pain. You can feel his forehead pressed to yours, his arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You can feel him, his presence—feel the memories of him wrapped around you like a shield against the world. 

You have him, and you have his promise—the promise that he would return the next day, today, with a betrothal ring. The promise that he would marry you and take you far from this place. The promise that he would love you forever. 

“I will leave now, before your stepmother returns,” he had said, holding your hand. “But tomorrow I will come. I don’t care if your stepmother refuses callers—I will come. And I will have a betrothal ring, and we will be married as soon as we can.” And you had agreed, and he had kissed your hand like you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels rather than your dirty servant’s apron, and he left, and you believed him.

Maybe you are a fool for trusting him so after he left you once. But even knowing that…you still believe him. You still believe in the man who held Delia like a little princess. You still believe in the man who defended you from Lady Trombley. You still believe in the man who gave you the gloves. And when you hear people talking in the hallway just after the clock strikes ten, your heart lifts, setting several butterflies alight in your stomach. 

You were right to trust him. 

Unfortunately, as the minutes tick on, you start to suspect there might be some trouble. While you can’t quite hear what your stepmother is saying, the sound of her cold voice permeates through the walls enough that you can tell she doesn’t plan on letting Beomgyu in. You abandon your chores in the kitchen and follow the sound of her voice towards the hall. 

You run into Brighton first, thankfully. “What’s happening?” you ask, even though you’re almost certain you know what is going on. 

“You have a caller, Miss L/N,” he says. It’s all he gets out before your stepmother rounds the corner and interrupts. 

“We are not taking callers,” she snaps, face even more pinched than usual. “Get back into the house.”

You ignore her. “Who is the caller?”

“Mr. Choi.”

Nervous warmth begins to tingle in your fingertips, which almost makes you groan—this is not the time to be feeling any sort of fluttery butterfly-ness, not when your stepmother is right there. “Let him in.”

Your stepmother snarls. “You are taking no callers—”

“He wasn’t asking for you, Stepmother,” you retort coldly. “Brighton, please bring him in.”

Brighton, smart man that he is, immediately departs. You brace yourself for your stepmother’s inevitable incoming tirade. There isn’t much in this hallway to put between you and her, so you can only hope Brighton comes back quickly. 

“You are not the head of this household.”

You glance at the end of the hallway. You really hope Brighton comes back soon. 

“You technically aren’t, either.” You take a step back but your stepmother advances faster, her eyes narrowed and sharp. “Henry is. But I don’t suppose you want to take orders from a four year old.”

There’s a flash of skin, a loud cracking sound, and then pain blooms across your left cheek. You cradle it instinctively, biting your lip against the pain. Well, at least the left side of your face will now be matching the right. 

Your sharp tongue never fails to get you into trouble these days. 

“Go back to the kitchen,” your stepmother snarls, her hands folded deceptively calmly at her waist. What a witch. “I will deal with you after I deal with Mr. Choi.”

“What, are you going to slap him too?” you snap. “He is my caller. I will receive him. You have no right—”

She laughs, high and sharp. “You wish for him to call on you now, when you look like this? Even if you weren’t buried in scandal, I would never let another see you in this dirty garb.”

“And whose fault is that?” You snort. “I wouldn’t be in this dirty garb if it weren’t for you. And for the record, Stepmother…” A smirk creeps across your lips. “He has already seen me like this.”

Horror flashes across her expression. “You—”

“I did.” You let your smirk widen. “He knows.”

You hear the slap before you feel it. The force of her hand against your cheek nearly knocks you against the wall and you don’t manage to stifle your cry, pressing your palm to your cheek in a futile effort to relieve some of the pain. A sharp sting rushes up your face, though, and when you pull your palm away, there’s a thin streak of blood. Her ring must have cut you again. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say as calmly as you can. “Mr. Choi is here. In this house. Brighton will be back with him in moments. Do you think it will benefit you at all for him to see me like this? To see you like this?”

She blanches. You keep talking, years of rage boiling over. “What, lost your tongue?” You laugh humorlessly. “All these years you’ve kept me pent up like this, one of your worst secrets—cleaning for you, washing for you, sewing your clothes and mine—you’re lucky I cared enough about Delia and Henry not to say anything.” A sneer curls your lips. “You hit me and you slap me and you know it’s wrong, you know it’s bloody wrong because you never do it in front of the children! Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to deserve—”

You see it coming—the hand rising, the palm flashing. Instinctively you flinch. Your eyes slam shut and you cringe away from the hand, covering your cheek as some small protection against the impact. 

But it never comes. 

You open your eyes. Beomgyu stands beside your stepmother, fingers wrapped tightly around her still-raised wrist. If you weren’t almost hyperventilating, you might laugh at how comically wide her eyes are, but only a slight wheeze manages to press past your lips. 

“Miss L/N.” Brighton’s voice sounds next to your ear. You hadn’t registered his presence, but it calms you. “Are you all right?”

“Not—not really.” You look at Brighton, whose usually calm expression has twisted with anger, then at Beomgyu, whose face can only be described as the pure embodiment of cold rage. “But I’m fine.” You don’t take your hand away from your bleeding cheek as you meet Beomgyu’s eyes. “Beomgyu, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Beomgyu drops your stepmother’s wrist and shoves past her, coming to  a stop right in front of you. For all the anger in his movements, his hand is surprisingly gentle as he pries your fingers away from your face, revealing whatever marks she left moments ago. You hiss as open air hits the cut, but Beomgyu’s thumb soothes it slightly. “Is there anything we can use to clean this?” he asks Brighton with deceptive calm. 

“I will bring something shortly.” The butler bows, then quickly leaves. 

Silence falls in the hallway, though Beomgyu’s anger clearly sizzles in the air. His dark eyes search yours for something, and only when his gaze falls to your cheek do you understand what he’s asking. 

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. “Or, I will be.”

It’s clear Beomgyu isn’t happy with your response, but he does seem to realize you don’t want to speak about this—at least not now. He nods almost imperceptibly, then turns to your stepmother. “Leave,” he snaps. He barely gives her a glance.

She gapes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. If the situation weren’t so charged, you might laugh. “I will not be ordered about in my own home!” she finally manages, her cheeks turning blotchy with embarrassment.

“Good God.” You sigh. “With all due respect, Stepmother, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? For me to be married to a wealthy husband and out of your hair?” You sneer. “If you don’t leave, that fantasy will never come true.”

Her eyes widen more, if that was possible. “You—” She glances between you and Beomgyu wildly. “You want to marry her?”

“I don’t answer to abusers,” Beomgyu says coldly. 

“But—”

God, she is the absolute worst. “I don’t suggest you make Mr. Choi any angrier than he already is,” you snap. 

With a last incredulous glance, your stepmother hurries out of the hallway. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

Beomgyu’s gaze immediately softens, though concern still burns in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he says quietly. 

“You didn’t know.” You shrug. “It’s fine, Beomgyu. I’ll heal.”

“It’s not that,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s the fact that this has clearly been going on for a very long time—”

“That is true,” you interrupt. “But I couldn’t say anything then. And anyone who knew didn’t have the power to do anything about it. I am only glad now that I have someone who knows, and who might help protect me.” You take the hand still pressed to your cheek and squeeze it. “I will be fine.”

Beomgyu searches your expression for a long moment. Whatever he is looking for, he seems to find it, because he seems to relax slightly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” You smile, wincing when the movement hurts your cheek. Beomgyu clearly notices but he also clearly sees that you don’t want him to remark on it, so you’re very grateful when he says nothing. You let your voice take on a more playful tone. “Now, what are you here for?”

“Well, I came as I promised yesterday.” His voice takes on somewhat of an edge and you realize he seems almost nervous. It’s very endearing, and your smile widens. “I brought you a ring,” he continues, producing a small box from his pocket. “If you will still accept my suit.” He opens the box.

You gasp. A bright emerald decorates the simple gold band, flanked on each side by small diamonds. There isn’t much light in the hallway but the gems catch what light there is, sparkling cheerfully in the box. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper. 

Beomgyu lifts the ring from the box and takes your hand. “It is yours,” he says, voice clearly shaking a little, “if you should like to have it.”

“Of course I would.” To your surprise, you can feel tears coming to your eyes that aren’t just from pain. “My answer hasn’t changed, Beomgyu.”

Relief floods across his expression, a tension disappearing from his shoulders that you hadn’t noticed before. “Oh. That’s good,” he says, smiling slightly. “Good for me, I mean. I just…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You keep quiet for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “I can’t say I wasn’t hurt by what you did, Beomgyu,” you finally say. “I was.”

He nods, looking terribly guilty. 

“But I also know that you are not characterized only by your mistakes then.” You smile softly, folding your hands over his. “You are still the man who defended me from Lady Trombley. The man who helped me after Lord Cho. The man who gave me gloves.”

Beomgyu peers at you with his dark eyes, so soft, so kind. 

“Maybe it will take us time to work past this.” You shrug. “That’s fine. Everything takes time. But…I know, at least, that I want to work past this with you. I want to be with you.” Your smile grows, trembling on your lips. “We were idiots for so long. I’m just…I’m just glad we were able to get to this point, at least, without it being too late.”

“Well, we only have you to thank for that.” Beomgyu smiles softly, most of the awful guilt slipping off his face. “You were the one who apologized first.”

You make a face. “Desperation can do strange things to a person.”

“Desperation?”

Your cheeks feel warm. “After you kissed me, I couldn’t stop thinking of it.” You turn away, embarrassed. “I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing you again either. I was desperate. So I apologized, because I at least wanted to be friends.”

Beomgyu’s fingers light on your chin, turning you back to him. “Well, you are far braver than I,” he says sheepishly. “I was too scared to say anything, for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

You smile teasingly. “That just means you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.” 

“Trust me, I will be.” And with that, he slides the ring onto your finger, the gold band comfortingly cool against your skin. 

You hold up the hand, admiring the sparkle of the gems even in the dim light of the hall. “It really is lovely,” you murmur.

“It’s one of the betrothal rings that has been in the family for a long time,” Beomgyu says. “Soobin had our mother’s, of course, because he is the first born, but I think this one suits you better anyway.”

The emerald glints against your finger, cheerful and bright. You haven’t seen the other rings in Beomgyu’s family collection, but you’re inclined to agree with him. The longer you look at it, the giddier you feel, even remembering everything that happened just minutes ago. It’s almost unbelievable. You’re going to be married. Married. And to someone you love, even. Your smile widens. 

“I can’t really believe this is happening,” you admit, almost in a whisper. It’s more to yourself than to Beomgyu, but he hears you anyway. 

“Me neither.” The society version of him is gone now, replaced by a shyer, almost boyish version of him that endears you far more than is good for the butterflies in your chest. “I mean, less than a few months ago we were still at each other’s throats.”

“I suppose you can claim all the credit for this, then.” You laugh. “You’re the one who suggested that ridiculous deal in the first place.”

“I may have suggested it, but you’re the one who took it to the next step.” Beomgyu grins. “Out of desperation.”

You hit him lightly as heat floods your cheeks. “Hey, you felt the same way!”

“I did, and I was an idiot for not acting on it sooner.” Beomgyu steps forward, taking your hands, and suddenly you’re so close you swear he could hear your heart beating right now. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Stop apologizing. I have already forgiven you.” A rush of boldness course through you and you lean your head against Beomgyu’s shoulder. He stiffens for a moment but relaxes so suddenly you almost flinch, and then his arms come to wrap around your waist. It reminds you of how he held you when you kissed and with that memory, you only sink deeper into his hold. “Anyway, what is that thing they say?” you mumble. “Something about there being a line in between love and hate?”

Beomgyu smiles and pushes you away, but just so he can look into your eyes. “There is a fine line,” he murmurs against your ear, his gaze drifting down to your lips, “between hatred and love.”

You laugh as he kisses you, his mouth soft and sweet against yours. “Yes,” you whisper when you pull away. “A very fine line, indeed.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

“Beomgyu!” You run down the stairs, nearly tripping over your skirts in the process. “Where are you? We’re going to be late—”

A hand catches your wrist as you fly down the last few steps. Beomgyu’s laugh rings out when you screech, his arm pulling you flush against him. “I’m right here,” he says into your ear. You hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see it, pressed to his chest as you are. 

“I couldn’t find you!” You pull away, hoping your makeup hasn’t rubbed off onto his outfit. “Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere.” He sneaks a kiss in between your flailing and you yelp again. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”

You scowl, but both of you know there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You are incredibly annoying,” you inform him, only to be met with another chuckle. 

It’s been a year since the last season, and six months since you married. If you had had it your way, you would have married as soon as he proposed—called the banns in a week, married in a matter of days after that. With your father dead, however, your entire family was sent into mourning. Never mind that you had never cared for the man. 

You hated those six months. It wasn’t the seclusion from society, which you honestly didn’t mind—but just…mourning your father. A man who was barely present in your life. A man whose face you wouldn’t have remembered if not for the portrait still stuck up in the drawing room, a man who lied to you for years until he died so far away from home. You almost considered eloping to Gretna Green to escape the months of forced darkness—you’re fairly certain Beomgyu would have agreed—but ultimately decided against it. You had participated in enough scandal during the season to last you a lifetime. You didn’t need any more of it.

It helped when the three month mark came around and you could change out of the void black gowns and into the lighter colors of half-mourning. Not so much because of the clothes, but because you could slowly begin to accept social engagements again. It isn’t that you particularly wanted to see anyone—the season was over by then and you were incredibly glad for that—but Beomgyu could visit, then. It wasn’t as often as you or he would have liked since his family had moved to the country while you stayed in town, but it helped the time pass more quickly, especially when your little half-siblings freed themselves from the clutches of the staff and managed to tumble into the drawing room to join you two. You’re almost certain Delia has a little child-crush on Beomgyu, and Henry looks at him like a role model.

It's adorable. 

Still, sometimes those three months seemed interminable. You barely spoke to your stepmother but after so many years of living under her iron fist, you could never feel at ease in the same house as her. When the wedding came around, you didn’t invite her and she didn’t ask to come. It was a lovely day to celebrate your escape from a life you never wished to live. 

And here you are, now. Bickering with your husband whom you love in a home you can call your own, free from the back-breaking secret of your previous life and able to live, really live, in a way you haven’t been able to in years. You can even go about in society with your head held high, just like you will tonight. 

That is, if Beomgyu decides to stop stalling anytime soon. 

He leans in for another kiss but you jerk away before his lips can land on yours. “We’re going to be late, Beomgyu,” you repeat, forcibly pushing his face away. 

He looks at you, face mushed still mushed against your hand. You fight the urge to laugh but a smile makes its way onto your lips anyway. “Be honest with me, Y/N,” he says, pulling away with that little twinkle in his eye. “Do you really want to go tonight?”

You open your mouth, ready to respond affirmatively. But then Beomgyu catches you with those very sweet, very alluring eyes, and you pinch your lips together. He’s already won, you both know, but you have to fight him a little bit. Just a little bit. 

“You’re telling me we should skip our first public event since coming back from our very extended honeymoon?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Why not?” he asks, sneaking a quick kiss onto your neck. You yelp, squirming away, but he maintains his hold on your waist all the while. “We’d have more fun at home anyway.”

You do your very best to ignore the way he’s smiling against your skin. “We already said that we would go.”

“Something came up. A terrible emergency that required us to return to the country for another month.” Beomgyu decides that whatever he’s doing right now is no longer enough and begins to lay kisses down your neck, trailing them towards your shoulder even though he knows you are incredibly ticklish over there. “You can’t tell me you’re so eager to return to society.”

You sigh. Beomgyu made good on all of his promises—he bought the house for your brother, he set aside money for your sister’s dowry, and he doubled the wages of all your staff in service. Several of them have followed you to your new home, too. And after your wedding, he whisked you away from London and the upcoming season to show you everything he knew in the continent. It was wonderful to leave England and even more wonderful to see the world, but by the end, you had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t just leaving London that gave you this joy. It was the fact that you had someone you loved by your side. 

It was the fact that you had Beomgyu.

It sounds terribly cliché, and you had said about as much to Beomgyu when you admitted it the night you returned to London, confessions whispered under the starlit sky. He had asked you if you really felt all right returning to society after the scandals and gossip of the last season and after a moment, you nodded. It would be difficult, but you didn’t want to hide forever. And with someone really and truly on your side, you could believe things would turn out fine. 

You thought he’d laugh at you, and he did—a little bit. But that laugh was accompanied by a surprising shyness and warmth in his touch as he pulled you closer under the bedsheets, your head coming to rest against his chest, just under his chin. “That is somewhat cliché,” he had said, words ghosting softly past your skin. “But I am very glad you feel that way.”

Now here you are, ready to attend your first public event of the season, and he’s trying to convince you to stay home. 

“I’m not not eager,” you protest. 

“But you aren’t exactly saying you’re eager either,” he retorts easily.

You sigh. “We promised we would go,” you say emphatically, but even you can tell that you’re losing ground for your argument here. 

Beomgyu hums into your shoulder, his arms sliding down to wrap around your waist from behind. “I’m sure Lady Park will understand,” he murmurs. 

That draws you up short. You’d nearly forgotten who was hosting tonight. “We are not skipping out on Lady Park’s ball,” you say, twisting around to look at him fully. “She is probably one of my only supporters in society right now!”

He makes an affronted noise. “What, is my family just chopped liver?”

“They are family,” you retort. “It isn’t the same. If they didn’t support me, we would be in far greater trouble by now.”

Beomgyu falls silent, which means he’s conceding defeat—at least on this front. “Fine, we’ll go,” he eventually groans. “But no one said we have to stay the entire night.” He whirls you around so that you’re facing him directly, and his grin becomes something distinctly inviting. Sensual. Your heart begins to beat uncomfortably quickly. “In fact, no one said we had to arrive on time, either.”

Your mouth suddenly feels very dry. You fight hard to keep your eyes meeting his, and not floating downwards to fixate on his lips. “Beomgyu…”

He grins. He knows he’s winning. “Twenty minutes,” he proposes.

“…Five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Twelve and a half.” You laugh, and Beomgyu takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his lips to yours again. “Twelve and a half,” he repeats when he pulls away, eyes sparkling. “And by the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?”

You laugh again, despite yourself. “You are absolutely incorrigible,” you inform him. 

“And yet you still love me,” he points out, infuriatingly correct as usual. “Twelve and a half minutes.”

“…Fine.”

He has his lips against yours in less than a second, an arm around your waist pulling you protectively close as your own hands wrap instinctively around his neck. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers against your lips. “I promise, every minute will be worth it.”

Sometimes it just suddenly hits you how lucky you are—how less than two years ago, you believed you would never find a husband, that you would never find love, that you would be forced to run away to avoid a life slated for a miserable end in your old household. Just a year past you believed this man to be your mortal enemy. When you think about it too much, you start to panic. Now that you have everything, a life that months ago you could only have dreamed of, it all feels like it could be taken away so easily. 

So as Beomgyu’s lips capture yours again, pressing you against the staircase as his hand rises to caress your cheek, you decide not to think about it. You push your doubt and panic away and focus on here, on now—on the warmth of his hands and his lips, on the love he manages to convey with every miniscule touch. This life is yours, this life filled with so much devotion and warmth, yours to build, yours to love. And if you know yourself, you will never willingly let it go.

When you break away for air, you don’t let Beomgyu pull away too far. You tangle your fingers through his dark hair, grinning all the while. If he notices a few tears of joy threatening to spill down your cheek, he says nothing, just looks at you with his doting smile.

“That was never in doubt,” you reply, staring into loving eyes. “Because every moment with you has always been worth it.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[lilyflowerstories]

My Girl, Forever and Always | 1

Summary: The Avengers' knew everything about their captain. He didn't like to hide, not when he was the leader. But a pretty face from Steve's time before ice has them facing the only and biggest mystery of Steve.

Warnings for the Series: Hurt/comfort. Violence. Not Canon Compliant. Racism (not overt but still there)

Important Warnings for this Part: none.

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Steve Rogers x black!reader, 40s!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: the title is pending. I had a strong desire to write for Marvel again. Idek dude. But enjoy!

A/N 2: Pet Soldier is being posted and updated on my main blog and I didn't want to detract from that fic so Steve's new fic will be living here!

(Series Masterlist coming soon)

With the Accords settled peacefully and all of the main Avengers right where they belonged in Stark Tower now renamed Avengers Tower, life was just right for the team. Aside from end-of-the-world disasters, they had essentially become a HYDRA and enhanced villains fighting unit. The Avengers weren’t complaining though. SHIELD agents and the lower level Avengers could handle everybody else. 

“What movie are we thinking about tomorrow?” Nat asked as they exited the quinjet. 

“T’Challa and his family are coming for a visit, brunch would probably be a better option,” Bucky said, taking everyone’s weapons from them for cleaning. 

The team debated back and forth on what would be the best option for a large group of people this weekend. Ultimately, Bucky’s idea of brunch was the winner. It was different for them. The Avengers were very used to team dinner but it turned out that cooking for brunch was more difficult than they thought. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nakia came up behind Shuri and Peter, plucking the mimosa glasses out of their hands. 

“We’re eighteen!” They both protested. 

“And the Americans have decided the legal age is twenty-one. Have orange juice.” She scowled when T’Challa cheekily poured some whiskey into their coffee mugs, not even trying to hide it. 

“Spiderling,” Steve called out with a smile at the scene in front of him. “Keep stirring this for me before Wanda has my head because it burnt.” 

“I absolutely will.” 

He held up his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Wands. Stir it a couple of times per minute, Pete. I’ll be back.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she watched Steve walk away. He wasn’t wearing any shoes past house slippers. He was dressed somewhat nicely but still in house clothes. And he didn’t have a bag or wallet on him, at all. Yet, the elevator arrow indicated he was going down instead of up to the floor where his room is. This wasn’t the first or even the fifth time she had caught him in a situation similar to this. Nat set down her cup of coffee. 

“Does anyone know where the hell Rogers goes every Saturday?” 

The entire team stopped their individual conversations to look from the elevator to the redhead at the counter. It was like a fire had been stoked under all of them as each person confirmed that they had no clue where Steve was going. If there was one person that was an open book and never a mystery, it was their captain. And yet, here was a mystery staring them dead in the face. 

“Is he dating?” Clint asked. 

Nat shook her head. “Unless it’s been a while, I hope not. Rogers left in pajamas and house slippers. I wouldn’t be impressed if my date showed up like that.” 

Bucky snorted as he put the creamer back in the fridge. “If he was dating, I would know.” 

“Good point… But what if?” 

“Maybe it’s a secret family like yours, Barton.” Shuri pointed to the picture of Clint’s family that he hung up in the living room gallery area now that everyone knew the truth. 

“Why am I always the one pointed to for a secret family? T’Challa had a whole hidden country. We didn’t even know Sam had nephews until last year.” 

Sam shook his head. “I wasn’t hiding anyone. My sister lives more than a few states away.” 

Bucky nodded. “He’s right, totally different scenario. But speaking of Wilson…” 

“Stop flirting with my sister.” 

“Speaking of Wilson,” Bucky continued, pointedly ignoring his friend. “You should go follow him. You’re the only person that doesn’t automatically trigger Steve’s little suspicious senses.” 

The entire team nodded and vocalized their agreements. They had all met Steve as co-workers that he was too tuned into them. Anytime they showed up unexpectedly, he automatically questioned if there was a surprise mission. And while he didn’t do that with Bucky, Steve was just always aware of his friend’s movement. He was hardwired to always find and take care of him. But Sam was a 21st century friend. 

Steve didn’t need to look out for him. Out of anything, it was the other way around. The city and time period were Sam’s domain and he always seemed to know somebody no matter where they went. The team assured Sam that if anyone could follow Steve with no problem, it would be him. 

He might have put up a fuss but Sam was just as nosey as the rest of them about where Steve was going all the time. He chuckled as he headed towards the elevator. The team was already making bets about what was going to be discovered. 

“FRIDAY, can you take me to the last floor Steve stopped on. And let’s not tell him about this one.” 

“Certainly.” 

Sam rocked slightly when the elevator jolted on its home. He watched the numbers go by, expecting to land on the ground floor or the garage levels like most of the team predicted. His eyebrow raised when the elevator suddenly stopped on the fifth floor. What was Steve doing in the hospital wing? He seemed just fine coming off the quinjet yesterday. More than fine actually. He was the only one aside from Thor who came out of the fight without a single scratch on him. 

Carefully, he stepped out of the elevator and took a look at the reception sign-in sheet. Amongst the many names of spouses of various agents, Sam spotted ‘Steven Rogers’ written neatly at both the top and bottom of the list of sign-ins. Curiosity got the best of him. Flipping through the small stack of sign-in sheets in the binder, he spotted Steve’s name. It was written near the top and bottom of every single paper. Like clockwork. And in every column asking the reason for sign-in two words were written: Visiting wife. 

Sam almost ran before calming down once he spotted Steve out of the corner of his eye. The man was carrying a trash bag in one hand and what looked to be a notepad in the other. The blonde smiled as he got closer. 

“Hey, what are you doing here? Is everything alright upstairs?” 

“Everything’s fine. I’m supposed to be visiting one of my veterans this weekend and her grandkids have taken to playing doctor. They asked me to get the good gauze from our med bay. The real stuff apparently. I’m seeing if Cho will let me swipe some.” 

Steve chuckled. “Just tell her you need it cause one of you idiots got hurt sparring again.” 

“Honestly, might just get it from Stark and Banner’s lab. Bruce is a lot less annoying about inventory. Need any help?” 

“Yeah, thanks. I have to run to the store real quick. Do you mind saving my brunch. Promise I’ll be back before anyone can accuse me of skipping team bonding.” 

“Eh, it’s not even done yet,” Sam said, leading the way back to the elevators. 

“Really?” 

“They’re going back and forth over pancakes or french toast casserole.” 

“My vote is for pancakes.” 

“I’ll be sure to mark it.” 

Sam waited for Steve to leave the elevator, actually on the ground floor this time, before going back up. The elevator almost felt like it wasn’t going fast enough. Sam had all the details he needed to spill before their captain came back. 

“Hey, Nat, are you sure he was in pajamas?” Sam asked as he dropped the trash bag down the shute that led to the dumpsters. 

“Absolutely positive, why?” 

“Because he was fully dressed when I spotted him.” 

“Seriously.” 

Sam nodded. “Jeans, hat, hoodie, tennis shoes. No pajamas anywhere. Oh, and I found him in the hospital wing.” 

“Capsicle needed the hospital?” Tony asked. “Since when?” 

“He wasn’t there for him. You won’t believe what was written on the sign-in sheet. He was visiting his wife.” 

“WIFE?!” 

They nearly choked on their food. Sam told them in way too much detail how his last ten minutes had gone, including how he was positive the notepad in Steve’s hand was a shopping list. The entire team practically ran when FRIDAY informed them that Steve had returned. It was hard to keep quiet and honestly they didn’t care. Now that they knew where he was, they were willing to strongarm their captain if they had to.

They kept following him past the standard area of the medical bay. To be expected. They rarely came to this area if they got hurt. However, the team was confused when he kept walking past the private Avengers area of the hospital floors. Tony had assumed it was all staffing offices and break rooms once they got past the Avengers area. The hospital never had interesting cctv footage that it never occurred to him to check it out, leaving it for the security guards and FRIDAY to handle. 

This new area was even nicer than the Avengers unit. There were fewer rooms and nearly every single one of them was empty aside from the few nurses or doctors taking naps. Tony could have assumed they were in fact in the staff area but each space they passed has medical equipment in them. 

“Maybe it’s an overflow area,” Vision murmured. 

“But the Avengers unit and the standard area aren’t even at half capacity.” 

Okoye stopped everyone from rounding the corner until Steve had entered whatever room he was looking for. 

Carefully, they crept closer. They made sure to angle their bodies so they could still see inside but without being spotted. Steve pulled back the curtain on the window, tying them up so the sun could shine in after setting down all his shopping bags. It was a nice day outside so he let the fresh air in as well. The team spotted a bed in the corner. The sheets weren’t redone yet. Did Steve sleep down here?

They watched their captain fold up the pajamas Nat spotted him in and drop them into a dresser drawer before making the bed and refluffing the decorative pillows on the small couch in the room. There was no other conclusion they could make. Clearly, he stayed here instead of in his room like they all thought. Steve came bounding back over to the hospital bed where the team noticed a woman was laying. 

“Let’s check for sores, love.” 

Steve carefully lifted you up, mindful of the machinery attached to you. He hummed in satisfaction at the lack of any bed sores. He knew the doctors were checking in on you and he trusted the SHIELD nurses more than anything but he was your primary carer so he had to be sure. With practiced ease, Steve lifted you and held you close to his body in one hand while laying thick towels over your bed with the other.

He had learned from the head nurse how to give you a proper sponge bath. Even though he wasn’t sure if you could hear him, Steve constantly walked you through the entire process as he covered your body with a warmed towel so you wouldn’t be cold. 

He carefully washed one bit of your body at a time. Steve was used to bathing your naked torso underneath the covering that he was sure he could do it in the dark if needed. You were redressed in a new outfit. 

“I bought this from a boutique that opened a couple months ago. It’s a lot different from the dress you wore last week. I know I don’t put them on you but I added another pair to your jean collection. Bell bottoms. I don’t know if you’ll like any of them, doll, but the cashiers have been really nice in helping me out. They all think you’re beautiful by the way.

"And they hope you get better soon. If you hate it all, they’ve been letting me keep the receipts under special circumstances. We can go back and switch everything out for stuff you do like, even if it’s from years back.” 

Steve removed the warm towel covering once you were fully dressed in a soft sweater the team recognized as his and a white dress that must have been the new item he bought. 

“I’m going to do your hair now, okay?” 

No matter how many times he’s done it, Steve was always nervous to wash your hair. The nurses said over the years that you were managing to hold your head up somewhat on your own but it never really eased his nerves. There was only so much strength a coma patient could have. He was always worried about your head rolling too far back and you accidentally drowning in the water basin before he noticed. 

“Your hair is getting pretty long now,” Steve commented, taking down the cornrows he had done last week. “I’ve trimmed it a few times but I don’t want to cut it until you wake up. Just in case you like it. I told you how Sam’s nephews showed me TikTok last month, right? Well, a cute hairstyle popped up and I think you’ll like it. I couldn’t figure it out myself but there’s a braiding shop two streets over. I think I can do a pretty good recreation if I do say so myself. I have no missions next week so if this doesn’t last long then we can redo it, no problem. I just thought you’d like to not have your headscarf on all the damn time.” 

Outside, a few nurses walked by, stopping at the window with all the Avengers. The team looked at the new group that had gathered. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” one of them asked the Avengers. “Captain Rogers hasn’t missed a single week if he can help it. I don’t think anyone else has even touched her hair.” 

“I wish I had a man that dedicated,” another muttered before all the nurses giggled and continued to wherever they were originally headed. 

Steve checked his watch. “I’ve got to go soon, love. Team breakfast. But I’ll be back tonight. Dr. Cho is coming by to check on your vitals. She said we made progress the other day. You were mumbling something. Think you’ll wake up this year? Maybe?” 

The team couldn’t quite make out Steve’s tone. He didn’t just sound hopeful or sad but exhausted. Exactly how long had you been in a coma? And when did he even get in a relationship, let alone have a whole wife? 

“I can’t believe he found her. That’s not possible,” Bucky whispered, steel-blue eyes never leaving the body in the hospital bed. 

Everyone turned to look at him. 

“Do you know her?” Nat asked, wondering if maybe you were another HYDRA captive. 

Bucky nodded. “Y/N L/N.” 

“L/N?” T’Challa and Okoye asked. That name rang a bell. 

“Yes. Daughter of Wakandan diplomats, wicked good nurse despite only getting war training… Steve’s and my best friend since grade school.” 

“Grade school?” Clint’s jaw dropped. “But that means sh—” 

“She’s from our time? Yeah. But she’s not a super soldier. At least not when I last saw her.” 

Before anyone could stop them, Nakia, T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri ran into the room to get a closer look at you. Steve was startled, nearly dropping the now empty water basin as he was asked a thousand questions per minute. Despite the entire team pouring into the room with apologetic looks at being caught, Steve was only focused on one person. 

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, Bucky.” 

“She’s my friend too, Steve.” 

“I wanted her to wake up first. There’s still a chance they have to pull the plug. I didn’t want you to go through that heartbreak again. Not after everything else that’s happened.” 

“That’s my decision to make.” 

“I know. I’m sorry, really.” 

Bucky shook his head, finally entering the room. He reached for your hand, caressing it gently. Everyone noticed how he immediately reached for you with his metal arm. Even with the new vibranium one, he was careful around people. But Bucky automatically went to you with it.   

“I’m not happy you did it but I understand. How is she even here?” 

Steve hesitated. “We, uh, we both went into the ice.” 

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, apologizing even though you couldn’t respond. “What?” 

“It’s a long story.” 

“Great,” Nakia interrupted. “You can explain this long story once she’s moved.” 

“Moved?” 

Shuri reached for the clipboard by your bed with all of Dr. Cho’s notes, sighing. “Nakia, wait. She’s too fragile to take back to Wakanda. Steve! Why did you not tell us sooner? We could have taken her home!” 

“She’s one of us. Did you not think we would have wanted to know?” Okoye argued. 

Steve scratched the back of his head. “I… forgot about that.” 

“Forgot?” 

“Well, I’ve been doing this routine since I was thawed out. A lot has happened and by the time we met you guys, I sort of forgot.” 

Shuri pinched the bridge of her nose. “At least we know now. Can you move her to the lab? I think we can still help her. We just have to improvise.” 

“I can do that,” Steve said, nodding. “Buck, will you take all the shit she’s hooked up to.” 

“On it.” 

Everyone stayed out of their way, letting the two super soldiers get on the elevator alone so nothing connected to you got tangled up. Shuri had already called her best scientists and doctors by the time they made it to Tony and Bruce’s lab. Steve nodded, gratefully, when she informed him that the team would be there tomorrow. 

“Have you really been sleeping down there the entire time?” Tony asked as he helped clear out part of the lab so there was proper space for everyone to work. 

“I couldn’t let my wife be alone all this time.” 

Bucky snorted. “She know you two are married? I don’t see a ring yet, Stevie. She’ll chew you out for saying that.” 

“So, it’s fine when she calls me her husband but I can’t do the same?” 

“Well, Y/N’s always been the charmer, not you.” 

“Whatever.”

✭

[danikamariewrites]

New Inhabitants

The Thunderbolts*

Note: I saw The Thunderbolts the other night and couldn’t stop thinking about the ending/post credit scene. It was such a good movie and this was the win marvel needed honestly.

SPOILER ALERT: PLEASE do not read this fic if you haven’t watched the movie since this story does contain spoilers.

Warnings: Angst

Dum-E didn’t forget to pack anything. And if he had, Valentina would have locked it away for “just in case” purposes. After all, anything can be blackmail.

Once the public were introduced to the New Avengers and the tower had been put back together a tough decision needed to be made. There was nowhere to go but here.

Rooms weren’t assigned. Valentina wasn’t really in the place to tell the New Avengers what to do. Not much haunted Val. She wouldn’t be where she was today if the past kept her down. But Yelena’s whispered threat did. So the decision of lodging fell to the group. There were paper name tags on the doors, telling the New Avengers which original Avenger the room belonged to. The original six hadn’t truly lived here. It was more of a luxury hotel when they were called upon. That was until the compound was built and S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. A few of them didn’t have a choice after that.

Walking the halls, Yelena had a hard time envisioning her sister living here. A tower at the center of the world's busiest city? Not Natasha’s style. A hidden apartment like the one they used in Budapest. That’s what Yelena thinks of when she imagens Natasha living somewhere.

The room was bigger than any bedroom Yelena has ever had. It was plain. No signs of anyone having been here before. Yelena knew there would be none of her sister's belongings. It didn’t make being in here any easier.

Launching herself gracefully onto the center of the bed, Yelena lets her body flop around. She stares up at the ceiling imagining what life would’ve been like if she and Natasha lived here together.

Before Alexie could take it over, Bucky took a lap around Steve’s old room. He wondered what it was like for his old friend to come back and be thrust into this ostentatious show of power. Bucky can imagine Steve’s discomfort. The chill that would’ve ran through his body at the unfamiliar feeling of it all. There was no sign Steve had ever been here. All of his belongings were destroyed in the final battle against Thanos.

The only thing Bucky carried with him that was Steve’s was their last conversation. No physical reminders. He thought about that a lot, when Bucky did he came to the conclusion that it’s for the best he doesn’t have anything. While Steve will always be a part of him it’s best not to carry the past with you. That’s what his new team just learned, right?

Closing the door, Bucky turned on his heel walking a few feet down the hall, coming to a short staircase. Lifting his heavy legs Bucky brought himself up to a carpeted landing. Large, wooden double doors staring at him. With his metal arm he pulls the name ‘Tony Stark’ from the smooth wood gently.

He shuts the door behind him without a second thought.

Ava didn’t care who her room belonged to. The tag read ‘Clint Barton’ but that held no meaning for her. She never concerned herself with Hawkeye. It was always Any-Man. Scott or Hank, it didn’t matter who wore the suit. Ava was given his files thanks to Val, but she didn’t care. She never needed to know.

John wanted Steve’s room. He caved and let Alexie take it. The man clearly idolized the first Captain America more. Down the back of the hall John finds a door with the name ‘Thor’. He didn’t see any other paper tags lining the hall. If it’s the only room left he has to take it. Sure it belonged to a god but he deserves it. He saved so many lives. Even has the super soldier serum coursing through his veins. John’s the closest thing to a god on Earth with Bob concealing his powers.

He throws his helmet on the bed. Claiming this room as his.

Bob didn’t care which room was like Ava. He took his time making his pick. Wanting his friends to make themselves at home first. They all had a deeper connection to the original Avengers, Bob saw what living here meant for them.

Bob spent his day walking the different floors of the tower. Familiarizing himself with the labs and recreational areas of the Watch Tower. Val really put the pressure on to have a majority of the living areas done. Construction crews had been here around the clock for the last three days.

Orange and pink rays filled the room through the floor to ceiling windows telling him it was time to head back.

Clicking the up arrows on the elevator panel Bob tapped his fingers against his khaki clad thigh. The same khakis he’s been wearing since he came back from the Void. Screwing his eyes shut Bob tries to banish the memory of what he was not more than forty-eight hours ago.

Getting off the elevator he’s met with silence. The rest of the team settled in. Making his way toward the wing that holds the bedrooms. All of the doors are blank now. Each holding a New Avenger. Bob smiles to himself, glad that his friends are ok.

Wandering past the doors Bob finds a hall leading to a more private room. The tag reads ‘Doctor Bruce Banner’. Bob doesn’t know much about Dr. Banner. What he learned from a quick Google search was that Dr. Banner is a humble man. Never liking much attention on him, sitting out of Avengers press when he can and working on staying calm.

Bob could use some calm these days. Opening the door he lets the ghost of Dr. Banner’s presence wash over him. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath. Grounding himself. Accepting this new life.

[canonizzyhours]

i'm so glad this blog is back! so as one of our fandom's few, proud canon-flavor blackhands shippers (there are dozens of us! well, maybe one dozen. if i'm lucky) i want to celebrate by venting about something that bugs me in fic about the edizzy relationship.

in fic with sympathetic takes on izzy (and not just canyon ones, i see it pretty frequently from even anti-canyon people who are trying hard to be fair to the character) authors will have izzy, in the throes of unrequited love, thinking about all the good times he and ed used to have together pre-stede, how they used to laugh and have so much fun together. i understand where this is coming from but it is completely losing the core dynamic of the relationship! the key thing about edizzy, the thing that defines their dynamic and that makes the relationship so compelling, is that they both deeply (albeit in fucked up ways) love each other but despite that at the same time THEY DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER, not even a little bit, and they never have.

you'll see canyon meta sometimes try to establish otherwise, but it's always sort of goofy like a lot of canyon arguments, usually the evidence will be, like, an isolated screencap where con smiles for a brief moment while ed does something in the foreground (often if you actually watch the scene it turns out he's reacting to something unrelated). or people will say ed trying to show izzy all stede's stuff must show that izzy used to respond positively to that sort of thing, instead of what's obviously going on in the scene which is that ed is desperately lonely and doesn't have anyone to talk to EXCEPT izzy.

but look at what we know about them. the parts of ed's personality that show the most when he's actually having a good time are the parts of him izzy likes the least. when ed's having fun he gets silly and playful. izzy disapproves of play and silliness on principle, and he especially hates it in ed, because he sees it as ed rejecting the blackbeard persona and therefore rejecting izzy himself. it's oil and water. this is reinforced by the parallels between izzy and mary: it's not like stede and mary used to like each other before their marriage decayed. they were miserable together from the moment they met; they don't have any shared interests and neither understands the other's creativity; and they don't really start to become friends until they give up on trying to make their relationship something it never could have been and try being honest with themselves and each other. in the same way it's not till around s2e6, after ed and izzy have both stopped lying to themselves and izzy has gotten over most of his hangups, that they even really get to a place where they might have been capable of starting to build an actual friendship. this is also part of why djenks ended up framing the relationship as family: a lot of familial relationships are people who've been through lots of huge life-defining events together and love each other deeply because of it but that doesn't mean they actually like being around each other.

if you want two guys who actually like each other, gentlebeard is great for that, in addition to being in love they also just like each other so much. if you want two guys who USED to like each other but don't really anymore and haven't fully realized that yet, you want ed & jack. ed and izzy work well together, they've been through all sorts of adventures together, they've probably saved each other's lives a dozen times over, izzy worships ed for his piracy prowess and general hypermasculinity, ed values izzy's performance as his first mate and also secretly craves his fatherly approval. they care deeply for each other for all those reasons. but there is no way there have ever once in their whole relationship just enjoyed hanging out with each other. they simply do not enjoy each other's company! they have all this deep emotion tied up in each other but on the most basic level they just don't like each other at all and i'm not sure either of them even fully realizes it! and that core tension is THE ENTIRE KEY to what makes their relationship like it is.

#441.

[4ragon]

@latchic said: Op I would love to hear about your thoughts on galo trying to save kray and all the details of his and lios psyches, you got some cool words to say and I’d like to hear more

Absolutely. Any time. I love thinking about this stupid movie.

So I forced a bunch of my friends to watch Promare with me and on the one hand the parts where Galo was like "Lio don't kill him!" all of my friends were like NO DO IT PLEASE END HIM which was really funny.

But. But but but. I do think it's super important that Galo refused to kill him.

Okay, so there's several parts to this. To start with I don't think that Kray being Kray was really an important factor in Galo trying to keep him alive. Like, we are WELL past Galo holding any respect for the man, and they did just spend the last like 15 minutes of the movie beating his ass. And yes, Galo absolutely has a lot of emotions to unpack about him, but none of those feelings have anything to do with the decision not to murder him.

So Galo tries to 'defend' Kray twice. The first one is when Kray starts taunting Lio after their robot battle and Lio fucking loses it. He tears himself out of Lio de Galon and Galo shouts out "Wait don't kill him!" And I think there's two reasons for this, at least for this first moment.

One: Galo does not think it's right to kill. That's just a given, he's a fire fighter, his whole job is to keep people alive, and I don't think any amount of anger is going to make him change his mind on that. But more than that, he doesn't think it'd be right to kill someone who 'can't fight back.' Because in that moment, they have no idea Kray still has an ace up his sleeve. He just knows that Lio is angry and not in his right mind.

Which leads me to Two: Galo doesn't want LIO to kill, because Lio thinks it's important not to kill. It's the same reason he stopped Dragon-Lio from destroying the city, and confronted him in Aina's helicopter instead of, I dunno, shooting him in the head with an ice gun. Lio doesn't want to be the monster everyone thinks he is. He doesn't want to be a murderer, no matter how much people deserve it. Lio said over and over again that the burnish would only hurt someone if forced.

And in this moment, Lio is being tormented and brought to the brink, but he's not acting in self defense. He's not doing it to protect anyone. They already won (quote unquote). And I think Galo knew intrinsically that Lio killing Kray would absolutely destroy Lio from the inside.

But the second time Galo saves Kray I think is way more interesting. This is right before the kiss of life scene, when he destroyed the engine and pulled Lio free. Again, his decision not to kill Kray had nothing to do with Kray.

And also, it kind of had everything to do with Kray.

Because Kray almost killed everyone. He truly and sincerely believed that the majority of humanity had to be sacrificed for the greater good. And sure, there was a good dose of megalomania in there, but he genuinely thought the Burnish and anyone he didn't invite on the ship needed to be killed to protect humanity as a whole. And isn't it worth it, to sacrifice the rest of humanity if it means a select few make it?

And Galo looked him in the eyes, said fuck that, and decked him in the jaw.

Because Galo didn't believe him. No amount of justification would make this right. There was no world for Galo in which people had to be killed for the greater good. Galo was going to save every last person on the fucking planet, and was not going to compromise his morals to do it just because Kray didn't think he could.

Kray told him he had to kill in order to save, and Galo said no, I don't even have to kill you. And I won't. And I love that.

I probably shouldn't keep going, because I still have a million and one thoughts about these little guys and this post is getting too long, but if you want to read 93,000 words dissecting Lio Fotia and his trauma I did write this fic about it.