#first fic of 2025

[mumms-the-word]

Deep Past the Heart

Characters: Emmrich Volkarin x Rook (You) Summary: (Spoilers ahead!) You have accompanied Emmrich to his final test before lichdom. You stand in a cold Necropolis vault as he walks away from you toward possible eternity, knowing he will die the moment he crosses the threshold. The only thing you can do now is wait. Wait and hope that if he returns to you, when he returns, he will still be the man you have fallen so desperately in love with. Nothing is certain but death. Love...that is a different question entirely. A/N: I think this is my first official Veilguard fic? And it's angst haha classic. Anyways, I have mixed feelings about Emmrich's Lich route but the cutscene where he becomes a lich has stuck with me as one of the most beautifully choreographed moments in the whole game, so I couldn't resist writing the scene from a more focused, anxious Rook's perspective. Enjoy! Read it on AO3 here!

I am come to be judged by the dead.

They are the last living words on his lips. The last words of a man who will be dead soon, one way or another. Nine syllables formed on an eloquent tongue, breathed forth with warm air from healthy lungs. In mere moments, those lungs, that tongue, those lips will grow still, and never move again.

It isn’t his time to die. But it’s the time he has chosen, and now that the words are out of his mouth, you know there is no turning back.

His words echo faintly in the vaulted chamber you stand in, soft reverberations you will never get back. You want to reach out and catch them, just one word, maybe two, and hold them fluttering and whisper-thin against your chest until you have absorbed them. The last vestiges of his voice, perfectly preserved in your heart. Just in case you never hear that voice again.

Or if you do, it will be altered beyond recognition.

It’s strange. You’ve spent the last several weeks doing all that you can to save lives—freeing slaves, fighting ghosts, slaying dragons, eradicating darkspawn, stopping enemies before they can hurt anyone else. And yet here you stand hundreds of feet below the surface in a spacious, isolated crypt, bidding farewell to your lover as he faces the end of his life. 

You make no moves to stop him, despite your every instinct screaming that you can, you could, you should . But you don’t. Because this is what he wants.

Emmrich Volkarin, your beloved, is steps away from death, standing at the threshold of a chamber that will steal his life from him and present him with one final test. If he succeeds, he will become a lich, a powerful undead mage that will stand outside of time, a being both paradoxically within and beyond your reach and understanding. His life’s work, completed with his death. But if he fails…

It is death, either way. You both know it. The best you can hope for now is not that he will survive…but that he will transcend . If he does, then he achieves undeath. Lichdom. Forever.

A vast leap , he had once said. Flesh cast aside for bone. Returned, immortal, for all time. 

You wonder if you’ve made a mistake. Not for encouraging him to take this path, but perhaps for coming with him. 

His kiss is still on your lips, the warmth of it fast fading in the chill of this Necropolis vault. You wish, suddenly, that you had placed your fingertips at the base of his throat or against his chest when you kissed, cherishing the final beats of his too-soft heart, the fluttering of his pulse as it thrums beneath his skin. Or that you had inhaled deeply of his carefully cultivated scent, expensive cologne, soap, and pomade, scents he may soon abandon after death when his new form no longer requires them.

You glance at the Lich Lords above, their cold veilfire eyes glowing in the sockets of their bleach-white skulls. Cold, barren, still.

Dead.

That is what he will become…but only if he passes the final test.

Too late you wish you had paid more attention to the elements that made up your lover’s living, mortal self. Already you feel the finer details slipping from your grasp. The exact shades of gold and green in his hazel eyes. Where the last stubborn dark strands of his hair melt into the gray and white. The tones of his quiet laughter when something amuses him. The press of his lips on your knuckles when he kisses your hand.

There will be no more of any of that, either way. Already you miss those things. Ache for them.

Why is it so much harder for you to let go of him, than for him to let go of life?

Your time together has been cruelly short. You arrived too late, he walked toward death too early, and the world never settled long enough for the two of you to find any real time together. You want to kiss him again, but you know better than to move. Because if a single thing goes awry…

The doors swing open, spilling out a brilliant white light so bright it’s painful to stare into, but Emmrich doesn’t falter. Aside from a single flex of his hands, you see no evidence of hesitation or fear.

And yet you still wonder. 

How fast does his heart beat in his chest, as if defying him to stop it? Is every nerve alight within him, desperate to soak in each last sensation, the chill on his skin, the prickle of gooseflesh at the back of his neck, the brush of fabric, the creak of leather, the jingle of chains? Are there tremors in his fingers that you cannot see? Is he terrified, or at peace with this decision?

You hope he is at peace. Even as your hands clench at your sides and your ears start to ring with the stress of watching him step forward into eternity, knowing he will die, he will inevitably die, he will certainly die , you hope he, at least, has no more of the terror that has plagued him since childhood.

It’s the only way you’ll see him again.

You have to let him go. You curl your toes inside your boots as if to anchor your feet directly down into the stone beneath you. You hold your breath to keep from using your voice. You cannot stop him. You cannot intervene.

But dammit, it’s hard .

Every step he takes is another step away from you. Another step closer to death. You have prepared for this. Sat in his study, curled up by the fireplace, watching him review scrolls about the rituals, watching him practice his glamor. You’ve seen the way his eyes grew distant at the daunting trial before him, taking him to a place where you couldn’t reach him…and the way his eyes drifted around his study, looking for a figure you both know will never return to brighten the Lighthouse again. You prepared your goodbye …and your welcome back… and your final goodbyes if it all went wrong. You thought you had steeled yourself to the fact that he might not return at all.

But now the moment is here. 

Every step is like a death knell, the chime of a clock striking midnight. The sound of his boot heels on the worn paving stones rings in your head like the peeling of chantry bells, ten, eleven…twelve. 

Silence.

He stops and turns to face you. The light of the chamber beyond is too bright, too harsh, a wash of milky white fog and light that silhouettes him until he is a singular shape in black. You search for his eyes, desperate to read his thoughts, or perhaps to memorize that particular shade of hazel you took too much for granted, but his every feature melts into shadow.

You look anyway, mastering your expression for him just in case he is watching you too. You will not look anxious. You will not look like you have even a shred of doubt. He will come back. He will come back. You hang onto the thought like a lifeline, and you watch, unwilling to look away for a single instant.

This is your last view of him alive. One way or another, he has to die. You’re prepared to walk his undeath with him, but you want to soak in this last living sight. Just in case.

Come back to me as yourself, Emmrich. Please.

Myrna and Vorgoth join him in the illuminated chamber and the doors begin to swing closed. You stare. You stare and you study and you will your feet to stay planted to the smooth stone floor and you look for a single glimpse of his eyes—

And you see that they are closed.

Your breath catches. You feel your heart start to crack, his name bubbling up from your chest into your throat, ready to be spoken, whispered, shouted, but you cannot let it escape. You swallow your voice as the doors shut with an echoing clang, a single note of devastating finality. 

Then…the silence of the grave.

—————

You stand as still as stone, imagining yourself as steady and cold as the carved marble and granite figures that line the vault. But your traitorous heart beats wildly in your chest, reminding you with every heartbeat that you are the last living thing in that room. You are the wrong thing here in this vault of silence, stone, and stillness. The audacious lover who dared to invade this sanctum of undeath and sully it with your mere presence.

You dare not invade any further. Emmrich is beyond your reach now. All you can do is wait.

You can feel the eyes of the Lich Lords upon you, veilfire glowing green and blue in their hollow eye sockets. Challenger of the gods , they called you. Volkarin’s beloved . You wonder if you are the first lover to stand at a lich candidate’s side to see them off for the final sifting of the soul. 

You wonder if you are the only lover who plans to stick around after lichdom has been achieved. Until death takes you, that is. You, but not him.

You know they are not there to judge you, and yet their faces remain fixed forward toward you, not the chamber beyond. You begin to feel as though you are as much a part of this final test as whatever it happening in the chamber beyond. Do the Lich Lords see you, truly, as they gaze out over the vault? Or do they see Emmrich’s soul, his thoughts, his memories instead?

Do they find you there among them? Is it better or worse if they do?

You know you’ll get no answers from the Lich Lords so you don’t ask. Which leaves you once again waiting. Listening. Hoping. 

Time crawls forward, impossible to track. Down here, deep beneath the earth, every light is artificial and cold, every chamber eternally lit by magical flame. It’s only the flickering of the torches and braziers that tell you that time hasn’t stopped altogether. 

And still you wait. It’s all you can do.

You breathe out, gently clouding the air. When did it get so cold? Or had it always been this cold in the Necropolis, and you never noticed it before? You rub your arms subconsciously, seeking warmth, but your hands do little to help.

What kept the chill at bay before? Was it Emmrich’s presence at your side, his hand eventually slipping into yours, that kept you warm among these patina green and slate gray halls? Or had he cast subtle spells over you, a bubble of warmth to carry you through the Necropolis, his mind on your comfort over his duty as a Mourn Watcher? Perhaps the chill had always been there, but you were too busy basking in the kindness of his hazel eyes and the soothing cadence of his voice to notice.

What happens now that those eyes, that voice, may be gone forever? 

You turn away from the Lich Lords and pace a slow circuit around the stone table. Over your head, the colossal sculpture of three crowned skulls looms like an omen, a second set of judges over the living and the dead. No matter where you turn, the hollow eyes of skulls peer down over you, reminding you of the inevitable. Now that Emmrich is in the chamber beyond, the only thing coming out of that room is a dead man.

How much of Emmrich will be left?

You strain your ears to catch any sound from the chamber beyond. The windows behind the Lich Lords appear open, letting in some of the white light, and yet you hear nothing. Even the crackle of the veilfire around you is muted and low. 

How much time has passed? Mere moments, or has it been an hour already? More than an hour?

You close your eyes briefly, your thoughts a silent prayer, the same as you prayed before. Come back to me as yourself, Emmrich. Please.

It’s the same thing you told him just before he walked away. One last plea, pulled from the depths of your heart, uttered before you could think twice about the words. And in return, he had smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners the way they always do—always did.  

I will, my darling. I promise.

A promise. One you hope—you know he intends to keep. Yet you know that even if he does come back, he will come back different. Everything will be different. His appearance, his senses, his feelings. He warned you of that just days ago.

Lichdom is a transformation of body and soul. A change in how I sense and feel. And I will still feel, but—

But he will feel differently. You know that. He does too. At this point, change is unavoidable, but how he will change…that is less certain. What will he lose, even as he gains eternity and power?

You recall his soft musing words the day you picked flowers together in the memorial gardens, when you asked if he would still be able to enjoy the flowers if he became a lich. He had answered simply, an academic’s thoughtful reply, but you caught the hesitant sadness in his voice at the end all the same.

I can’t say if the flowers would still hold their bloom for me. 

But what about you? For him to lose his sense of smell is one thing, but to lose a measure of his heart…

You can still picture the flower he once picked for you, the thin stem in your hand, the white petals luminescent in the light of the gardens. The scent has long faded from memory, but the magic of it is burned forever in your mind from when he transformed the soft petals into glittering motes of light. You, in the bloom of your life, basked in the glow of his magic, melting beneath him as he pressed you gently into the stone of the memorial and kissed you for the first time. That was the moment you realized you loved him, alive or undead.

So is it selfish to long for, even mourn what you have already lost of him? For you have lost something . The moment he stepped into that chamber, you lost something. You can feel it, hollow in your gut, even though you can’t name it. If he survives this last test, you will gain something back, but even so…is it selfish that you already miss him as he was in life?

Is it too early to mourn, knowing he was a dead man the moment he uttered those words at the chamber doors?

I am come to be judged by the dead.

You know he is more than his appearance, more than the skin and muscle and sinew that makes up his living body, more than that common, fleshy muscle in his chest that pumps blood through his veins but to which everyone attributes the deepest of mortal feeling and desire. Even when that heart grows still, he will surely still love you, you remind yourself. He had all but promised before he left your side. 

Hadn’t he?

If anything should perchance go wrong… My dearest heart. You are the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me.

You stop. You realize now.

This is why he didn’t look back.

You are a temptation. His last tether to this mortal world. If he had looked back, he might have wavered. Decades of his life’s work, lost at a single glance.

If he had looked back, you would have almost certainly lost him for good. 

You pause at the start of your circuit again, turning to face the chamber doors, your heart racing. Does he think of you now? In his mind’s eye, do you exist as the path back home, a marker for his soul to return to his new lich body, or has he cast you aside, unwilling to let you become his final weakness? Have you ruined it all simply by being there?

You were the one to reach out when he first stepped away. The one who held him by the arm, desperate for another few seconds with him, a final kiss, a last embrace. I love you , you whispered as his lips left yours, a confession you should have said days ago. 

I love you too, my darling.

What if that final kiss, that simple confession, has doomed him? You think of Johanna Hezenkoss, the failed lich, her body slowly shriveling on her skeletal frame, eyes burning with veilfire inside a withered face. Wrong. Half-undead. Stagnant, yet decaying.

Is that the fate you sealed for Emmrich with your kiss?

Suddenly you would give anything, a measure of your strength, your power, your own lifeblood, to ensure that he passes through the Lich Lords’ final sifting of the soul to successfully enter lichdom. You want nothing more than to see him again, no matter what vessel his soul is housed in. Was it not ultimately his soul that you fell in love with? Time is a thief that would rob you both of vitality, strength, and beauty no matter how you attempt to slow it down, but the soul is eternal. Or so everyone says.

All you want now is his soul with you again, rather than passing on to the Fade, or wherever it is souls go when they die. 

Please, Emmrich , you beg silently. Come back.

Perhaps the Lich Lords or the spirits of the Fade will hear your silent prayers, drawn in by your deepest desire, since the silent gods are no longer listening and may not even exist. If the spirits sense your hope, perhaps they can intervene on your behalf, driven by the strength of your wish to lead Emmrich’s soul back again if he needs the help. 

But no, you must have faith in him. That is what he needs from you now. You clench your fists at your sides, determined to mold your anxiety and desperation into faith instead. You can do this, Emmrich. Death won’t keep us apart. You won’t let it. 

A light clamor draws your attention back to the chamber—the sound of the latch unbolting. The doors are about to open. The wait is over. 

The judges’ verdict is set. The scales have been weighed, the soul measured, and judgment passed.

Emmrich is dead. 

—————

Your blood pounds in your ears, a steady roar that drowns out everything else as the heavy doors groan open. You force yourself to watch, willing your eyes to adjust faster to the white light that spills forth. You have to see. You have to know. Death or undeath? A lifeless corpse or an eternal lich?

Come back to me, my love. Come back.

Vorgoth emerges first, a ceremonial knife in his gloved and bangled hands. Wet, red blood drips, fresh and lurid, from the black and gold blade. Emmrich’s blood, dripping down onto the Necropolis floor, each drop glittering ruby red in the light before it splashes dark and black on the stone. Vorgoth sheathes the blade, tucking it inside the depths of his cloak, his task complete.

Then Myrna appears, promenading forth with an urn cradled in her hands, a canopic jar with a lid carved in the shape of a skull. A thin trickle of blood trails down from the seam between jar and lid. You dare not wonder what lays inside, what part of your beloved Emmrich they carved away to preserve inside that funerary urn. The mere sight of it makes your stomach twist.

Did it hurt? What they had done to him? Were his final living moments spent in pain as cold metal carved through his flesh? The thought leaves you ill, your knees weak. But no, the Mourn Watch are not inhumane. Myrna and Vorgoth respect Emmrich. He calls them friends. Surely his death had been as painless as they could make it. You have to believe it, or else the world around you will tilt out of focus and leave you crumpled on the floor, and you cannot let Emmrich see you like that. 

At last Myrna steps aside, leaving your view into the chamber unhindered. To your relief, there is no lifeless corpse crumpled on the ground. Instead, a figure stands where Emmrich stood. With a shift, it begins to walk forward.

At first it’s no more than a silhouette to match the Lich Lords above. A dark, shadowed figure with a crown of spikes and eyes glowing with veilfire. A lich at long last. But is it–is he your Emmrich?

As he draws nearer, out of the white light, more details emerge. Glimmers of gold, the rustling whisper of grave linen, the thick drape of black crape fabric. The doors close behind him and the silhouette melts away to reveal him in all his undead glory, standing regal in black and gold.

For one terrifying moment, you don’t recognize him. His skull could be anyone’s skull. There is nothing left of the hazel gold or green in his gaze. The heart you yearned to capture, the one he once said beats for you and no other, now no longer beats in his chest at all. It is missing, along with every other organ, his gold-reinforced ribcage left open and hollow. He is a walking skeleton now, draped in rich armor and finery, brimming with new power. 

You can’t look away. He has to be in there somewhere. You take an unsteady step forward as he draws slowly nearer to you, searching the polished bone surface of his skull beneath his golden helm for something you can recognize as Emmrich Volkarin. Your beloved.

“Emmrich?” you whisper. Your heart is a drumbeat in your chest, tempo allegro , relentlessly pounding in your ears until you’re almost dizzy from the rush. Please be in there. Please.

He stops and you can sense his gaze, harder to track now that it’s all veilfire, moving away from you to the room around you. His jaw unhinges and though he no longer has a tongue, his voice emerges from somewhere within him, like a spirit speaking from the beyond.

“I see so much more clearly now,” he says. Your breath hitches as you recognize the tones and timbre of his voice. It has an otherworldly echo now, but it’s his . “The deeper eddies of the Fade. The pulse of the Necropolis.”

You can sense the new power he has gained. Magic shifts around him as though he is draped in more than metal and fabric. As if he stands with one foot in the physical world and the other in the Fade. Even his voice sounds like it begins in another plane and is carried forth over a vast distance.

You can’t help but feel awed. You stand before an immortal being now. Yet, unlike when you stood before Solas, Elgar’nan, or Ghilan’nain, there is no fear or wariness in your heart. This is not some cold, unfeeling god. This is Emmrich Volkarin.

You feel his gaze settle on you as he continues, his voice full of wonder. “I have been through blood and darkness, and I have emerged into light.”

You breathe for the first time in several seconds, your lungs shuddering at the sudden cold air. Relief floods into you, even as a smaller part of you aches to think how painful this last test was for him—what trials of blood, what depths of darkness had he endured to earn this gift of immortality? But those trials are in the past now. What matters is not that he experienced them, but that he endured and emerged victorious.

He has returned to you.

You wet your dry lips, the question on your tongue tasting metallic from fear, but you have to ask. You have to know. “Emmrich, now that you’re…do you still feel…” 

You can’t put the whole question into words. He is here, but he is changed. How much? How deeply?

“Oh,” he says, and his voice is like a lovestruck sigh from the depths of his soul, breath simulated by tone alone. “My love.”

This time, his words wrap around you, sinking into your skin and settling deep within you. It’s the feeling of returning home, of a world made right again. It’s the thrilling sensation of a loving whisper on your bare skin, a promise of devotion and a song of praise, the tenor of his soft voice perfected by the subtle, echoing embellishments of his new magic. You nearly weep for the love you can sense conveyed in so simple a phrase.

It’s really him. And he is really yours. 

It’s all he has to say to convince you.

“Come,” he says. “Walk the gardens with me.”

He offers you his hand, now wrapped tightly with grave linen down to the tips of his fingers. You recognize the rings he wears as his usual jewelry, and the sight of something familiar calms your still-settling heart even further. Without hesitation, you take his hand and let him lead you out of the vault.

You can feel the shape and rigidity of bone beneath the linen, but his touch is gentle as he folds his hand around yours, matching your pace as you venture out into the Necropolis proper. Each step you take with your hand in his quiets your lingering doubts. His measured strides are the same as they were in life, the pressure of his touch no different from when he had muscles and tendons to control them. Even his presence at your side beats back the chill of the Necropolis just the way it had when you journeyed with him earlier. 

Everything is as it was in life, simply made more by the aura of magic that follows him. The moment the two of you reach the gardens, your steps crunching the gravel of the cemetery paths, you feel him relax at your side. You wonder what he sees now, now that his eyes have been opened, his spirit awakened to the subtle movements and patterns of the Fade. Where you see veilfire torches and the carefully tended blooms of the cemetery flowers, the cool air broken here and there by the playful twirl of a glowing wisp, what does he see?

You think of that moment in the Lighthouse weeks ago, when he took your hand and placed it on a skull, instructing you to breathe, to focus while he spoke a solemn incantation, the weight of his hand covering yours. When you opened your eyes, you could see the currents of the Fade in motion—glimmers of light fluttering through the air, ribbons of color weaving in and out of sight, and blue and green wisps dancing playfully high overhead, or lingering serenely around the two of you. Is that what he sees now? Brighter, richer ribbons of light, glittering notes of magic, twirling wisps, even spirits walking the grounds? Does he see beyond the Veil, two worlds overlapping, mixing together in a sympathy of color and light, or simply what bits and scraps are strong enough to push through, eager to brush against the physical world? You wish you could see. You wish you could share in the vision with him.

“It’s…beautiful,” he murmurs. You look up, studying his new profile. It will take some getting used to, but it doesn’t frighten or disturb you. When he turns his face toward you, you can feel the warmth of his gaze again, even though there is nothing left of the hazel eyes you once fell in love with. “To think, I can share this first glimpse of wonder with you, my darling. It makes this moment all the sweeter.”

If he were still capable of tears, you know he’d be weepy right now. He always did get philosophical around flowers. And it’s you knowing that, sensing it in his voice, that dispels the last of your doubts. You squeeze the bones of his hand and whisper, “I knew you’d come back to me.”

His next words are confirmation and promise, reassurance and affirmation, his affection as clear and warm as it was in life, even despite the new echo. It is confident, certain, and tender, and as before, it settles somewhere deep past the heart, where nothing can ever take it away from you again.

“Always, my love.”

[ikkyfics]

Happy New Year

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: “Okay, your challenge is… to kiss someone before midnight.” Your heart raced. “I… what?” You looked at them. “It’s simple, you just have to pick someone. Anyone.” Anyone. You knew you should pick someone random, but there was no way. The truth was, since the moment you’d entered the hall, there was only one person you’d even consider. James.

Warnings: fluffy, new year challenge, shy!reader, first kiss

A/N: first fic of the year <333 I would like to wish everyone a happy new year, full of things as wonderful as each one of you

Masterlist

The hall where the party was taking place seemed magical in a way no elaborate spell could replicate. The students who stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays had transformed a space near the Astronomy Tower into a warm celebration, full of twinkling lights, lively music, and laughter echoing from every corner. It was impossible not to feel the joy hanging in the air, but you could hardly focus on what was happening around you.

Your gaze, as always, ended up being drawn to him.

James Potter. With his purposefully messy black hair, the easy smile that seemed to light up any room, and those vibrant blue eyes behind his round glasses, he was a gravitational force for you. There was something about him that made your heart beat a little faster every time he entered the same room. No matter how many times you promised yourself you’d stop looking, it was as if your eyes betrayed your resolve.

You’d known him for years, but he seemed like the kind of person who never stopped surprising you. Always so full of life, so confident, so... him. Even so, nervousness took over every time he spoke to you or smiled in your direction. It wasn’t something you could control; it was like every time he looked at you, the ground disappeared beneath your feet, leaving only an anxious tingling in its place.

Not that there were many interactions between you. Most of the time, James was surrounded by his friends or laughing at one of Sirius’s jokes. But on the rare occasions he spoke to you directly, your mind seemed to completely shut off. You remembered the way he smiled when he asked to borrow the book you were holding in the library weeks ago, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he took it. Or the time he held the door open for you in Potions class, tossing a casual “Don’t mention it” that left your face burning for the rest of the day. He probably didn’t even think about those moments, but for you, they replayed in your mind like scenes from a film.

And now he was here, in the same hall as you, laughing at something Remus had just said. James’s laugh was unmistakable—loud and contagious—and you couldn’t help but smile, even without knowing why. He looked so at ease, so natural, that it felt like he was a part of everything that made Hogwarts feel like home.

“You’re staring at him again, you know?” The voice of Anne, one of your friends, interrupted your thoughts, and you quickly turned, feeling your face heat up. Miriam was sitting next to you, a mischievous smile on her lips as she watched you.

“I’m not staring,” you mumbled, trying to look away, but Anne’s laughter from across the table made it clear they didn’t believe you.

“Of course not,” Miriam teased. “It’s just that he’s the only thing you’ve looked at for the past thirty minutes.”

You tried to protest but knew it was pointless. They already knew enough about your feelings for James to not be easily convinced.

“Speaking of challenges…” Anne began, a playful glint in her eyes. “You haven’t completed any yet, and midnight’s almost here.”

Your mind was immediately filled with the absurd ideas they’d come up with throughout the night. Earlier, Anne had dared Miriam to steal a piece of pie straight from the teachers’ table. Miriam, in retaliation, made Anne approach a group of friends and hum a ridiculous song. None of you were exempt from the next challenge, and you knew your turn was coming.

“Okay,” Miriam said, leaning closer. “Your challenge is... to kiss someone before midnight.”

Your heart raced.

“I... what?” You looked at them, hoping they were joking, but their mischievous smiles made it clear they were serious.

“It’s simple,” Anne insisted, as if it really were. “You just have to pick someone. Anyone.”

Anyone. The idea made your stomach churn. You knew you should pick someone random, someone who didn’t make your heart race with nervousness, but there was no way. The truth was, since the moment you’d entered the hall, there was only one person you’d even consider. James.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed throughout your body. Your feet were glued to the floor, and the idea of approaching James Potter seemed far too daunting to be real. But the challenge echoed in your mind, along with Anne and Miriam’s expectant gazes. Before you could change your mind, you took a deep breath and stepped forward.

James was alone now, a rare sight, considering he almost always had one of the Marauders by his side. He was standing by the table where some drinks and snacks had been laid out, his back to you. He seemed distracted, fiddling with something on the table, and that gave you the push you needed. Even so, every step toward him felt like a test of courage, and your legs trembled so much you feared tripping before you even reached him.

When you were just a few feet away, he turned, and the world around you seemed to stop. James smiled—that easy, unassuming smile that was somehow devastating at the same time. You felt the air leave your lungs, and for a moment, all you could do was stare. He looked beautiful, as always, with his messy black hair falling slightly over his forehead. The round glasses gave him a unique charm, and those blue eyes shone with an intensity that made your heart nearly leap out of your chest.

“Hey,” he said, his voice relaxed but with a warm tone that made you feel strangely safe, even as anxiety swirled inside you. “Want a drink?” He held up a glass of juice you hadn’t even noticed he was holding.

“Oh, no... I mean, yes... no, thanks,” you stammered, feeling your face heat as your words came out completely jumbled. He chuckled, a low, genuine sound that seemed to tickle your stomach.

“Sure? I promise I didn’t put anything weird in here. At least, not much,” he joked, his smile widening as he took a sip of his own drink.

You shook your head, trying to ignore how dry your throat felt. “No, I... I’m fine. I just... thought I’d come talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m honored,” he said, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What did you want to talk about?”

You swallowed hard, trying not to look like a complete idiot. “Nothing important. Just... do you like these parties? I mean, do you actually have fun, or do you just come because all your friends are here?”

The question came out completely nonsensical, and you immediately wished you could disappear. James, however, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he smiled even more.

“I like them,” he replied, leaning slightly against the table as if to seem closer. “I mean, it’s hard not to have fun when you’ve got Sirius trying to dance and Remus trying to stop him from breaking something. What about you? Are you enjoying it, or did your friends drag you here?”

“Oh, they definitely dragged me,” you admitted, feeling the words flow more easily as he kept the tone light. “They do these things... silly challenges and stuff.”

James raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Challenges, huh? So, have you done any, or are you hiding from them?”

You felt your face grow even warmer and glanced away, focusing on anything but his eyes. “Actually... not yet.”

“So you are hiding,” he concluded with a soft laugh. “Well, at least you had the courage to come over here. That’s a start.”

His words, spoken so lightly, seemed to strike something deep inside you. Courage. That’s exactly what you lacked right now, but you knew you had to try. So, before your mind could sabotage your intentions, you blurted out:

“Would you... if I... would you mind if I kissed you?”

The question escaped so quickly and nervously that you barely registered the words before they were out. When silence followed, the urge to run overtook you—disappear before he could respond. But then James did something you didn’t expect. He blinked, briefly surprised, and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he smiled in a way that made your heart stop.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice warm and full of meaning.

And before you could process what that meant, the countdown to midnight began. The voices around you felt distant as James took a step closer, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your entire body tingle. It felt as though time slowed when he raised a hand, gently cradling your face, his thumb softly brushing against your heated cheek.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, almost like a promise, before leaning in slowly and pressing his lips to yours.

The world around you seemed to disappear completely, leaving only you and James in that moment that felt infinite. The kiss was as soft as it was at first, but the way he held you revealed something deeper. His arm found its way around your waist, pulling you gently closer, as though even a sliver of distance might shatter the moment. His touch was firm yet tender, and you melted into him, warmth radiating from every point where your bodies met.

His lips moved against yours with a certainty you never imagined experiencing. It was as if he knew exactly how to make you feel safe, desired, and important. The way he tilted his head slightly, adjusting the angle of the kiss, made every second feel new and even sweeter. Without realizing it, your fingers found the edge of his jacket, holding onto it lightly because your knees threatened to give way.

His scent—something fresh, like open air with a hint of wood—filled your senses, and the texture of his lips, soft yet so assured, made it impossible to think of anything else. There was a perfect balance between tenderness and intensity, and you realized, with a flush spreading across your cheeks, that you would never forget this moment. He was there, entirely present, as though nothing outside of this existed—just you.

When he finally began to pull away, it was slow, almost as though he wanted to savor the moment for as long as possible. His thumb traced lightly along the side of your face before he opened his eyes. You barely had time to recover before you saw those bright blue eyes shining, a mixture of admiration and pure happiness.

That’s when he said your name.

You blinked, surprised, a shiver running down your spine at how intimately he spoke it, as if he were holding something precious. Hearing your name from his lips felt strange, but in a way that made your heart race even faster. You hadn’t spoken much before. How did he know?

“How do you know my name?” you asked, your voice so quiet it barely sounded like your own. Your eyes searched his, seeking answers in every small expression that crossed his face.

James smiled—not just any smile, but the one that seemed to light up the entire room. He raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face gently before answering.

“I pay attention,” he said, with a natural ease that only made him more irresistible. “Did you really think I didn’t notice you? How you always look down when you’re talking to someone, or how you get nervous when you think someone’s watching? I notice. And I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times…”

You were speechless, completely captivated by his tone, by the way he seemed so genuine. He continued, as though it was impossible to stop now that he’d begun.

“I just never knew how to approach you. You always seemed so... distant. And I thought maybe you wouldn’t want someone like me to talk to you. But... you’re here now. And I won’t pretend I’m not happy about that.”

Your heart was pounding, and you didn’t know what to say. The way he was looking at you made your knees feel even weaker, but something about his words gave you unexpected courage.

“I… I’ve always wanted to talk to you too,” you admitted, your voice hesitant but sincere. “I just didn’t know how.”

James smiled again, softer this time, more intimate. “Well, I guess we’ve figured it out now, haven’t we?”

You laughed nervously, but he tightened his grip on your waist slightly, as if to reassure you that you weren’t going anywhere. Then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, he said:

“I was thinking... maybe we could continue this conversation later. Just the two of us. What do you think?”

Your heart leapt, and you could hardly believe what you were hearing. “Are you… asking me out?”

“I am,” he replied without hesitation. “And I’m hoping you’ll say yes because I don’t want to miss the chance to really get to know you.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your lips. “Yes,” you said, almost unable to believe your own words. “I’d love to.”

He grinned in a way that made your chest swell with a joy as light as the crisp night air. “Great. Best way to start the year, don’t you think?”

And with that, he gave your waist one last gentle squeeze, as if to confirm that this moment was real. The sound of fireworks began in the distance, but nothing seemed more important than his gaze, still locked on yours, as if he could stay there forever.

[jiminrings]

anything

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved.

alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

[ angst, fluff, friends to Not Friends to lovers, pitiful amounts of Yearning And Pining, emotional constipation, second lead taehyung being unbearable And delicious somehow, jealousy, the harrowing argument of what it means to seek growth n seek comfort, VINDICATION!!!, redemption ]

notes: because i've decided that i will never become sick of writing lovers who are doomed but not really, here we are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ to get the full experience, pls listen to the song that was the inspo behind this!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! 

Yoongi's only ever been with one woman his entire life.

Ever since he turned old enough to introduce someone to his parents without them mistaking it for puppy love, which in his case was at seventeen years old, Yoongi quickly realized that he doesn’t ever want to introduce anyone other than Haein.

Yoongi, at his fresh age of seventeen, made a pact to himself to never bring someone home again if it’s not Haein, because bothering a nineteen-year old you for your own house slippers to lend to his girlfriend (he didn’t want to spend his allowance buying a nice pair when he could just sacrifice his dignity by groveling at your feet for it) was too much of a hassle.

He didn’t like the fuss that came with forming crushes. Yoongi’s spent countless nights scrutinizing his first love’s actions during recess and microanalyzing her tone towards him from the morning earlier— he doesn’t want to go through any of that again. 

He doesn’t want the grown-up equivalent of it either, because all throughout high school and some bits of college wherein he and Haein were together and totally not broken up in a perpetual on-off cycle as usual, Yoongi thought that he was set for life with her.

Unlike you, he hasn’t had his share of multiple first kisses. Yoongi, not even once, stepped into a bar with wandering eyes and a hopeful perk to his tone. He hasn’t worried about making first impressions again, nor has he ever had to ask how many people came into the picture before him.

In Yoongi’s eyes, it’s only been Haein the entire time. There’s no before, during, and after her, even if the last phase in time is just something he hopes for and is not set into stone. 

It’s still Haein for him, the kind, starry-eyed girl that wore your house slippers when she stepped foot into his childhood home for the first time to meet his parents, and it’s been her ever since.

It’s still her, because she never knew that the slippers she wore was actually yours, which made it her one and only designated pair, so much so that she even took it with her when she moved in with Yoongi in their shared apartment.

It’s still her, because you’ve gone through multiple pairs ever since, and so did the boyfriends you took home to meet your family.

It’s still Haein, because Yoongi hasn’t moved on from her even if they broke up for good (or atleast that’s what you’ve heard in verbatim and what Yoongi refuses to confirm) a year ago.

"There's nothing wrong with being with someone new," you snort, your tone bordering on condescending to which Yoongi predicted correctly, simply because you’ve had this conversation a million times already. 

You told him that in your attempt to comfort him when Haein broke up with him back on the second semester of their first year in college, wherein he found himself wailing against your sheets at your dorm.

You told him that in your attempt to appease him when he broke up with her during their junior year, wherein he had to wipe at his tears furiously before fixing his tie because it was only hours before your graduation and both your parents downstairs are calling for a picture.

You tell it to him now too, in your attempt to convince both Yoongi and yourself, as he starfishes on your couch while reminiscing what could’ve been another anniversary (albeit choppy and not at all continuous) of the first time they held hands.

"Yes there is," he groans, his emotions maturing enough not to cry helplessly unlike the past breakups, but not enough to stop glomming onto you. “I don't want to talk about my favorite color again. I don't want to answer how many siblings I have. I don't want to be asked the extremely quirky question of whether I think pineapple belongs on pizza or not, again!"

"It's only normal to introduce yourself again and again until you find the right one for you!" you laugh, your self-built amusement keeping the entire situation light for you because if you don’t find a way to distract yourself from Yoongi holding onto Haein pathetically, just like how you do so with him, you’d be as devastated as him.

You’d be devastated too if you realize that there’s little to no chance of earning back the only person you’ve ever truly loved, if not more— except you’re not Yoongi, and he’s not Haein.

What you have to go through is more devastating because Yoongi’s never really been yours in the first place.

"But I want Haein to be right for me," he whines, his eyes sleepy from all the fatigue that comes with driving all the way to your place, just so he could be miserable around you and not apart from you. “Even if she's not, I want it to be her."

You’re quiet for awhile, and Yoongi doubts your silence because you’ve only ever chewed his ear off whenever he started moping about Haein. He’s noticed it ever since you were young; you’d never let a single second pass without overwhelming him with your words whenever he thought too deeply, too lowly about anything. You didn’t give him a break to even think when it comes to times like these, so Yoongi grows even more concerned when you give him a break.

He’s used to the noise that is you trying to distract him from everything that pains him.

"For the record, you already did those things twice in your life,” you murmur after some time, looking up from the glass of wine that Yoongi poured you and bought for your collection before he made the decision of crashing out over Haein in your living room.

"Oh my god, did I kiss someone while I was drunk? When you dragged me out for drinks last week? When-… when it was, uh, when it was the anniversary of me and her moving in and-…”

"No, you monogamous asshole," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You did it with Haein."

"What are you talking about?" Yoongi tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend what you’re saying.

You still look annoyed at him, as you’ve always done whenever he comes to you crying about her, but now, you look more subdued; like you’re a little more melancholic for god knows what reason (Yoongi knows it’s definitely not about him and Haein’s breakup), and a little less agitated at having to have this conversation for the nth time.

"I knew you first, Yoongi," you remind faintly, shoulders offering a weak shrug. "You had to do it all over again for Haein when she came into your life, but I don't see you complaining."

Yoongi hits pause on his agony to frown slightly, sitting up on your couch in order to nudge you with his shoulder. ”But that's different because I grew up knowing you. It's only natural for you to know me this way.”

The snort that leaves you borders on offensive, and Yoongi automatically narrows his eyes when he senses the hint of sarcasm in your smirk.

”You mean know you as intimately as your one and only girlfriend did? Maybe even more than Haein actually does know you?"

"If you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah," Yoongi scoffs defensively, crossing his arms on his chest before looking up at the high ceilings of your apartment in surrender. “Aren't just close friends basically lovers without the formalities?"

Yoongi’s only ever been with one woman his entire life.

You figure it’s because of that so he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

You figure it’s because of Haein’s monopoly on his feelings and experiences that you convince yourself that Yoongi hasn’t been kicked around enough, to realize that what he’s saying is enough for you to assume a higher, closer place in his life.

You figure that Yoongi only knows love because of Haein and not love itself, enough for him to tell you that being close friends with him is the equivalent of loving him in that light, only without the coveted crown that comes with being his first and only love that Haein still possesses.

"You're right," you mutter, downing the rest of your wine and the assumption that Yoongi knows it’s him whom your hearts yearns for. "It does sound weird when you put it that way."

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s a manny. 

More specifically and less confusingly, Yoongi’s a male nanny and he enjoys the job.

When you graduated two years earlier than he did, all he talked about was how happy and envious he was for you over being born earlier than him. He told you that you were unfair (and so were your parents) by bringing you to the world earlier and not as the same time as him, even detailing how he wants to be just a day older than you instead of you being ahead by two full birthdays.

When you graduated two years earlier than him, proving just how lucky you were (even if Yoongi argues that it’s your sheer intellect and not something as silly as luck) by landing a coveted job, all Yoongi could talk about was how he wanted to follow in your footsteps.

He’s not in the place where you are now, and although neither of you are bitter about it, some part of Yoongi still thinks what could’ve been.

“I should’ve never brought it up,” you apologize sincerely, nudging him with your knee to get the point across because you didn’t really mean to throw him into a loop.

You’re sure that Taehyung, your colleague who’s one year your junior and knew both you and Yoongi from college, didn’t really mean to offend the latter either, or atleast that’s what you think. 

You only opened up about your brush-up with Taehyung in the elevator because it was your first time bumping into each other having worked in the same company for so long, and you thought (read: thought) that Yoongi would be amused about the interaction too.

You thought that Yoongi would be amused about your encounter with Taehyung because the third question he asks you (the first asking how you were doing and the second asking if you were single) ventures straight to Yoongi and what he was up to. 

You thought he’d be amused that Taehyung still remembers how the both of you were attached to the hip despite being apart in year levels, but with the way Yoongi scowls (even for just the briefest second), you knew that you hit a sore spot. 

“Nah. It’s okay,” Yoongi exhales, glossing over the random question of Taehyung asking if you were taken before willing himself to forget it completely, and moving onto the facet that you thought offended him. “It pays well, honestly. I didn’t think I would ever score a job like this.”

“Me neither,” you shrug lightly, being relieved when you see the playful roll of Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance, to which he may or may not attribute to Hwayoung’s (one of the children he looks after) tendencies.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Yoongs. It’s just that, well, I pictured that you’d be this hotshot data analyst, or I.T, or something equally as technical and now-…” you trail off, the smile in your face genuine. “You’re a hotshot nanny.”

“This wasn’t my dream. You knew that,” he snorts, asserting his point by once again bringing up your extensive knowledge about him. “But I was just strapped for cash this one time, and I was behind on rent and my stupid, complicated job at my old company didn’t pay on time– then you already knew about my neighbors being these newlyweds with twin babies and before I knew it, I was looking after them! I was making bank by staying up like I’ve always done, and I get an audience when I’m talking to myself!”

Yoongi doesn’t overestimate your familiarity for him, and neither does he overestimate your sincerity towards his decisions. You judge him, sure (you’ve never made your annoyance for his weakness for Haein and his affinity for their backwards-moving relationship a secret), but you’ve never actually discouraged him from anything.

You didn’t talk him out of getting back with Haein all those breakups ago.

You didn’t talk him out of applying for unrelated jobs outside of his degree.

You don’t talk Yoongi out of anything, even anyone, that’s capable of bringing him joy.

“You love what you’re doing and you’re earning a shit ton. You don’t have to be affected by what an old classmate is asking.”

“That old classmate is working in the same Fortune Global 500 company as you are,” he chuckles just a little bit bitterly, making you nudge his knee a little harder this time. “But still,” he deadpans. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. I can consider this as practice anyway.”

“You’re… opening up a babysitting company…?”

“Stupid,” Yoongi snickers, squeezing your knee tightly before his hold disappears. “No! I mean practice before I have a family in the future!” he laughs, shaking his head at you as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world; as if his optimism for a future with Haein isn’t persistent. “I don’t know what’s Haein’s take on working if we ever do have children, but either way, it’s nice to know that I already have the basics mastered.”

Whenever you least expect it, even if you should know by now after spending so much of your life with Yoongi, he reminds you of your place.

“You and Haein aren’t even together now,” you mutter, keeping your gaze low.

“Can you shut up?” Yoongi groans, slouching in his seat. “I’m not saying we’re gonna have a family now. I’m saying maybe we’ll have one in the future.”

“But you’ve been broken up for years.”

“Again, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the playfulness between the two of you slowly but surely dissipating. “I need you to be quiet.”

( ♡ ) 

Your parents like throwing thanksgiving parties for you and your siblings.

It’s quite literally the joint event for all seasons because your parents don’t even dare to set out cake for anyone outside of your family to eat when the holidays come, promising to make the party they excessively fuss about to be an umbrella for the rest that they miss throughout the year.

It’s an event that none of you really asked for but your parents insist on anyway; mostly to celebrate their accomplished children, and just a tiny bit more to brag about the lives they’ve managed to cultivate.

Yoongi, like for every other thanksgiving party that your parents have thrown, shows up in his most prized suit. It’s his most expensive and cleanest one to date, and it’s a suit that he reserves only for your parents’ shenanigans; not for a relative’s wedding, and not for a rich friend’s event either — he wears it just for you.

“I’d hate to be your unemployed cousin during this time of the year,” he jokes, being unable to look around the room without locking eyes with atleast one of your relatives or mutual friends and waving at them, yet Yoongi’s not really peeved about it at all.

“Yeah, that side of the family hates us,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening when you realize that you have nothing to be anxious about, especially when you’re just across the person who knows you the most.

You have your fun in these thanksgiving parties, and Yoongi has his own. Your definition of fun means owning up to your achievements and not attributing them to luck, poking fun at your siblings behind their backs, and maybe striking up a conversation or two with a family friend that you forgot was more handsome than you thought he’d be.

Yoongi’s fun on the other hand, only ever revolved around you and Haein when it comes to these parties. Now that the latter wasn’t invited this year and he’s not capable of trailing after her like a puppy, feeling like an outcast amongst a sea of accomplished individuals, Yoongi can now trail after you, feeling like he belongs.

“Look at my parents. They keep boasting about you so much, you’d think they gave birth to you,” he nods his head to them, talking your aunt’s ear off as they keep gesturing to you, grinning when you catch their gaze.

“I don’t look at you as a brother. Gross!” your nose scrunches, making Yoongi roll his eyes and subsequently kick you lightly in the shin.

The two of you, thankfully, are okay. The awkward conversation that transpired about Taehyung’s curiosity and Yoongi’s own insistence of a future with Haein seems to never have sprung up in the first place.

You’ve known each other for a lifetime; it only felt appropriate, nevermind unhealthy, to let familiarity take its toll to make the two of you complacent enough to not apologize to each other and still be okay by the next day.

“My parents didn’t graduate college, but you knew that already,” Yoongi talks, gaze still holding out to his parents from a distance like it’s a stare he can’t break off because his eyes feel too comfortable. “They found a lot of things– a lot of people annoying because they made them feel inferior, but we never felt that way with your family, y’know?”

You’re not one to deny the distance between you and Yoongi; everything from your age difference, to how your childhood house overlooked his, and even to the feelings you share and don’t share, there’s an imbalance the two of you would never be able to tip.

“Your parents are genuine, close friends with my own, and your family never pitied ours,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in gratitude as he does so.

“I know that,” you return the sincerity, eyes set on his while his gaze is directed elsewhere. “But where’s all this coming from?”

“I see the way you look at me,” Yoongi shrugs, the second that it takes him to turn his attention to you making you falter.

You don’t know if you’re more scared or relieved at the possibility of Yoongi knowing about your feelings.

“And how do I look at you?” you test the waters, tilting at your head to try and closely gauge the tiny smile on his lips, but you come up empty.

“I can’t tell exactly, but you always look at me with some sort of guilt.”

“Why would I look at you with guilt?” a breathless laugh escapes you, the ease plastered on his face making you more and more pressured.

“I don’t know either! You tell me,” Yoongi laughs brightly, slinging an arm across your shoulder to which no one bats an eye to, because although they don’t know the two of you as well as you know each other, they have a semblance of it.

They know how you and Yoongi are friends; how you and Yoongi are close friends who are basically lovers without the formalities.

“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, Y/N. There’s nothing about one another that could surprise us anymore.”

“That sounds so boring,” you mutter, the words slipping out of you before you could even control them, effectively dampening the sentimental mood that Yoongi’s in.

“Excuse me?” he asks, a little bit offended but a lot more hurt over your comment.

“We’re not always gonna be the same, Yoongi,” you continue, staring at your feet with your voice low because it’s not like you can retract your words anymore; they’re as out there as you are when it comes to loving Yoongi silently.

“Do you… not want to be friends with me anymore?” he whispers, arm suddenly stalling as he tries to deduct whatever the hell you could possibly mean.

“Where did that come from?”

Yoongi chuckles uneasily, almost regretful he even said that outloud in fear of manifesting it. 

“I don’t– I-I don’t know! It’s just weird with the way you’re talking. Like you purposely want us to change.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” he emphasizes. “If you’re already comfortable with the life that you have now, you don’t need to change,” Yoongi blinks slowly, unfamiliar with the way your eyes lack emotion. “I have you. I have the manny job. I have Haein.”

You’re quiet as you let Yoongi think and simmer in whatever he had to say, and he hates it.

“Is this life not enough for you yet?” he asks hesitantly, the premature scoff that leaves his throat making the bitterness linger for the slightest second. “What more could you want?”

You want to say it’s only him whom you lack, but you stay quiet.

You give Yoongi both the silence and the space to think, and he realizes that he’s never wanted to be overwhelmed by you more.

( ♡ ) 

Things have been awkward between you and Yoongi.

You didn’t mean to sound beyond ungrateful and out of touch, but simply (and maybe even arrogantly) put, Yoongi just didn’t get it. 

He didn’t get where you were coming from because he’s only stayed in one place long enough to call her his future. He didn’t get what you could be possibly going through because Yoongi only longs for comfort and not change because the latter wouldn’t benefit him in any way.

He’s right about him having the manny job makes him happy because he gets a heavy check and a learning experience. He’s also right, even if he’s rarely accurate when faced with her, about having Haein because you figure that if you were in his position, you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

If you were anything like Yoongi by having had the privilege of harboring the person you love and the life-long burden of having to yearn for her, you would be satisfied too.

It’s been a full week since the two of you talked and it’s the longest you ever went without any communication. There’s no texts coming from your end, but there had been plenty of it coming from Yoongi’s.

Yoongi, your best friend, knows that you didn’t end your thanksgiving party in the happiest note because he happened. He felt apologetic about it ever since because he didn’t mean to sound self-absorbed to the point of projecting his selfishness onto you; painting you as the villain would be the last thing he’ll ever do because he knew that between the two of you, you were the stronger one.

You’re the more rational, focused one who studied the same degree as he did, yet actually amounted to something infinitely more even if he’s the younger one who had more opportunities than you ever did.

You’re the more unyielding one between the two of you, because you can stomach ignoring him for a week while he’s about to lose his mind.

Yoongi could send a hundred more texts wherein he pretends to have mistakenly sent a discreet, low-lying sorry to you (because the two of you barely ever apologized to each other) instead of another person. He could react to a message of yours from two months ago just to try and see if you would comment on it.

He could even call you by Haein’s name just to purposely piss you off because he’d settle for anything if it meant breaking you out of your silent treatment, yet you don’t even move an inch whether he calls you on your phone or lingers in the coffee shop you frequent at in your workplace.

Yoongi can pull a hundred different reasons with most of them involving how he’s running errands with the children he looks after. He can say that Hwayoung knows your name (and he’s not lying about it either) and that she asked where you worked, and the both of them just happened to be in the area during their morning walk. He can say every excuse under the sun just to try and get you to talk to him, but you won’t budge.

Yoongi doesn’t like change but he likes the days wherein you rant to him about your day and ask how his went, just like every week before this one. He doesn’t like growth in the guise of everything he’s comfortable with being stripped away, but he likes the nights wherein he could call you and ask you to look after the children in the living room while he goes to the bathroom, when really, he’s just standing from a distance to look at you coo at them.

So when Yoongi got the call from your brother, asking him for a favor to look after your nephew if only he was free for the day (he wasn’t, but he made it work nonetheless), he immediately jumped at the chance of maybe, just maybe seeing you drop by at your family’s home.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says under his breath when he locks eyes with you in the nursery, your presence only being a surprise to him alone because he didn’t think you were staying with your parents the entire week when normally, you’d be a little high-strung staying with them after three consecutive days.

“Just been busy. Sorry,” you reply quietly, your apology only being an afterthought because you’re unsure who’s at fault.

“Me too,” Yoongi clears his throat, bouncing your sleeping nephew on his arms as he indiscreetly makes his way to you. “I’m sorry too, I mean.”

It’s weird for the both of you to apologize to each other.

It’s weird for you to see Yoongi in your childhood house and have no one question his presence, because the scene of him cradling your brother’s baby with a cloth strewn over his shoulder and your sister’s headband on his head to keep his hair away from his face, only looks right.

It’s weird for Yoongi to see you so torn up over him, and it’s even weirder that all the anger he had towards you for ignoring him just immediately dissipated.

Yoongi puts your nephew down on his crib with a precise gentleness to him, his hands cramping up not because he spent so long trying to get him to calm down, but because he doesn’t ever know what to do with them whenever you face him.

“You didn’t have to do this for my brother, y’know? You shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes just because he asked,” you clear your throat, filling the silence in with your voice that Yoongi has missed so badly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not on the clock right now,” Yoongi furrows his brows, the frown on his face evident. “I’m not here as a manny. I’m here as an uncle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he snorts, the snarky expression from him cutting through the tension between you. You could just throw your head back out of relief, knowing that Yoongi’s not that mad at you, but the both of you know you’re far from the clear.

You’re far from the clear when you don’t make a single move to come towards him across the room, even if it’s the only thing you wanted to do the past week.

You know you’re far from the clear and even further from moving on when it’s Yoongi who comes to you, his pace slow yet definitive, his fists unclenched for once as he practically leaps towards you in the end.

It takes one, two seconds for you to realize that although it’s Yoongi who made the first move to get close to you, it’s you who puts your hands on his cheeks, forehead rested against his with your eyes closed, tightly. Painfully.

Yoongi opens his eyes when you do, staying in your grasp even if he realizes that you almost kissed.

“You can read my mind, Yoongi, right?” you whisper, pulling apart briefly to look up at him, yet close nonetheless because you could still practically hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yeah,” he swallows the lump in his throat, the hand he has around your waist loosening for just a fraction of a second, yet you don’t need it— you don’t need him to unravel further to confirm what you’ve always known.

“So I don’t need to say it out loud,” you smile tightly, the shaky sigh that leaves you making Yoongi’s lips purse out of guilt. “So I don’t need to say it out loud that I love you,” you say in your mind, eyes already stinging even if Yoongi hasn’t let go of you yet.

“You don’t,” he affirms, his voice hoarse as his hand on your waist still doesn’t budge, the other cradling your wrist because he can’t decipher if it’s him wanting to keep your hand on his face, or if it’s him keeping you away. “You can read my mind too, right?”

You nod earnestly, the smile that he gives you even being tighter than yours.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “So I can’t— I-I don’t have to say it either,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say out loud that the feeling isn’t mutual,” you read in his mind, the silent admission effectively relieving you of the weight you’ve carried ever since you knew him.

Yoongi’s phone ringing is the only thing that snaps the both of you from your daze, your immediate composure being shaky despite having prepared for this for so long because you knew it anyway.

You know that no matter how much Yoongi looks like he belongs to you, your life, and everything in between, you still won’t stand a chance against the person who’d make him drop everything new for the promise of coming home to everything he’s familiar with.

“It’s uhm— it’s Haein,” he explains, the nervous grin he has on face being infectious despite your very own appearing for a much different reason. “She wants to talk about things.”

“You don’t have to let me know,” you shake your head, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Go, Yoongi.”

.

.

.

You’re not ignoring Yoongi anymore.

Apropos of nothing, Yoongi and Haein are talking again.

They’re not together, yet, but you know how it always ends between them anyway, so you steel yourself for the worst despite it being Yoongi’s best.

( ♡ ) 

You badly want to change.

You badly want to change and although it’s not Yoongi’s fault, the way he hovers around you makes you feel otherwise.

You already made well on your promise of not shutting him out whenever things get tough for you, but even then, no part of the way you’ve been acting recently ever appeases Yoongi.

He’s accustomed to you growing like you always have been, yet he didn’t even think that you changing bit by bit could ever impact him this greatly, Sure, Yoongi’s happy that you’re no longer ignoring him intentionally, but his stomach still turns every time you do reply to him at an ungodly hour and he’s reminded of your little joke (he hopes it is) that you’re more active at that time of night because of your extracurriculars.

Yoongi’s happy that you still turn to him, but a large part of him, if not the entirety, grows bitter when he sees you looking happier nowadays and he can’t tell if it’s because of something you’ve already told him or if it’s because of something totally unrelated and how he could never know, because the one thing that he made you promise is for you to keep being his friend.

You’re still Yoongi’s friend before, during, and after your confession, and he doesn’t know if that placates him.

Yoongi doesn’t want to amount to anything less than a friend to you but he doesn’t want to be your family either. He wants to be whatever it is in your life that knows why you’re smiling so much and why you barely rant to him.

He wants to be whatever, whoever, it is your life in order to know that you’re seeing Taehyung right from your mouth and not from your brother’s like he’s a jaded suitor that’s been anticipating bad news.

Yoongi wants to matter enough, as if he already doesn’t, to know about you having a boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” he spits, the way he barrels into your apartment with his own keycard being unceremonious. 

Yoongi knows today’s your rest day and he knows that by this time, you’d be on a call with him to ask about his day and entertain Hwayoung who keeps butting into your conversation. By this time, it would’ve still been you and him, whether or not Haein and Taehyung were in the picture.

“You’re hooking up with the guy that talked shit about me, and you didn’t bother telling me?”

“Taehyung didn’t talk shit about you,” you scoff, closing the door after him as you follow him into your living room.

Yoongi’s eyes widen comically, heart clenching when he realizes that you have no comeback for anything else he’s said, jaw clenching as he points a finger at you.

“He fucking looked down on me-…”

“He was just shocked!” 

“Are you seriously defending him instead of being on my side?!” he exclaims, the sarcastic chuckle that leaves his lips rubbing you wrong because for any other person and any other instance, you’d laugh with him too.

“Do you not expect me to?” you snarl. “You’re dragging my boyfriend’s name to an argument that you started, and you don’t expect me to defend him?”

“You’re being a hypocrite,” he grits, nostrils flaring in sheer anger.

“And if I am, then what about it?!” you throw your hands into the air, poking your finger at his chest yet he refuses to get out of your face. “Have you not ever been a hypocrite when it comes to defending the person you love?”

It’s not your glare that gets him to back off.

It’s not your hostile, defensive nature towards Yoongi, in defense of Taehyung, that makes him deadly silent.

It’s you, holding up a mirror for the same blind defensiveness that he’d always carry whenever your words just barely graze Haein’s honor.

You’re guilty of judging Yoongi, but not of dissuading him from pursuing Haein like he’s always done — Yoongi, however, can’t say the same for himself.

“I hope Taehyung’s worth it,” he spits. “I hope he’s worth treating me like this, because not once have I ever made you less of a priority even when Haein was still in the picture.”

The use of was makes you pause, the past tense making you blink owlishly and finally take a step back from Yoongi as if it’s just your proximity to him that was the raging problem.

“Haein was my girlfriend but I never, never turned my back on you. I never made things awkward for us. I never stopped showing up for you, even if it costed me with her. I never made you feel the way you’re making me feel now,” Yoongi heaves, jaw clenching from how hard he’s ignoring the lump in his throat.

You chuckle sarcastically, the briefest glimpse you have of yourself in Yoongi’s words making you feel utterly pathetic. “Yeah? And how am I making you feel now?”

“Like we haven’t known each other our whole lives.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s been months since you and Yoongi properly talked to each other.

Life got in the way between the two of you and as much as Yoongi didn’t want to push, you didn’t want to grow out of the comfort that you already had with Taehyung either.

There were still texts and calls, but in between Yoongi getting whisked away for his employers’ vacation for a change and you being content with your job and your boyfriend as your comfort, neither of you made any drastic moves after your fight.

The only apology that Yoongi could get out of you after storming off from your apartment was you asking if he had already eaten dinner two nights after your fight, while the only apology that your close friend could ever give to you was that he hadn’t (even if he actually did), just to get your conversation rolling.

You feel guilty reserving parts of you from Yoongi, namely Taehyung and how he fits into your life, even if it’s always been established that there’s no use hiding. You know a terrible lot of information about how Yoongi and Haein are in bed against your will, and Yoongi has an awful amount of knowledge about your preference for condoms and how you like your men. 

There’s guilt in your chest and you don’t think it would ever disappear for as long as Yoongi’s still in your life. Being defensive about anyone outside of your family and Yoongi, specifically because neither are synonymous no matter how much Yoongi keeps recurring from your family’s mouths, is something entirely brand new.

Taehyung is new to your system, just as Yoongi was all those years ago, and it scares him more than it scares you.

The concept of lagging behind someone who had just been a casual topic of interest (more specifically because he had seemingly offended you and him) then became your boyfriend overnight feels like a giant slap on the face because Yoongi, not once, has ever entertained the possibility that you’d be as lovesick as him.

He didn’t think that you were also capable of being defensive about a loved one who isn’t him, just like he is over Haein. 

He didn’t think about how angry and offended he’d feel seeing you become so protective of someone who doesn’t know you like he does, because in Yoongi’s defense, Taehyung doesn’t know shit about you.

Taehyung does not and will never know you like he does, because he never trailed after you and idolized you in everything that you do, so much so that he only pursued his degree because you did before him.

Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung never had to be taught by you how to drive and what it means to have his family’s manual transmission car stall right after the stoplight turned green, because it meant you having to comfort Yoongi who was in tears after being honked at, and you lying straight through your teeth to his parents by saying that he was excellent and should definitely be trusted with driving the car alone with Haein to take her on dates.

Unlike the person you know the most, Taehyung never had to have the conversation with your dad about looking after you in college despite being younger, yet puffing his chest out nonetheless to agree because he made it his personal mission.

Taehyung will never be Yoongi and the latter takes pride in it, except now, he feels that Taehyung doesn’t ever want to be in his position—

Why would Taehyung vie for his position when it’s clear that he’s at an advantage?

Yoongi ignores his feelings and grievances the best that he can, yet unlike the old him who could endure so much shit because it meant having you to lean on, he can’t help but explode now that it’s you whom he can’t see eye to eye with.

“Taehyung and I were thinking of eloping,” you say out of the blue, your admission feeling appropriate (in your eyes, atleast) because you and Yoongi have so much to catch up on after being apart and he strayed the topic towards your sister who’s expecting her first child.

You thought it was your turn to say something equally as life-changing, because with the way Yoongi hasn’t talked about Haein once and you assuming that it’s because they were back together and he was just shy to talk about it, you bit the bullet first.

You thought wrong, clearly, because the happiness completely drains away from Yoongi the moment you finished your sentence.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, don’t be stupid,” he repeats, eyes narrowing at you in anger. “You’ve only been in a relationship with him for months-…”

“I’ve known him for years-…”

“And that still doesn’t justify you marrying him just because you feel like it,” he spits, your revelation far from making him happy like you thought it would. “Stop being stupid, Y/N. You’re not marrying Taehyung just because you’re in another one of your impulsive moods.”

Your mouth falls open at that, scoffing in disbelief because Yoongi isn’t letting up in the slightest with the way there’s no hint of his outburst just being a sick joke.

“I’m not being impulsive. I really do want to marry him!”

“Oh yeah? How’s married life going to work out for you when-…”

“I only told you because I wanted to let you know. I wasn’t asking you to weigh in, Yoongi,” you snap, crossing your arms in defense while Yoongi only steps towards you.

The thought of eloping with Taehyung crossed your mind once after a weird dream, and you thought nothing about it at first so you texted him and went right back to sleep. What you didn’t expect was that he didn’t hate the idea at all (in fact, he was even happy that you thought about it), and Taehyung’s confirmation for something unlike you, for something that resembled to settling and being comfortable, changed you completely.

“You don’t expect me to interfere when you tell me you’re going to make the biggest mistake of your life?” Yoongi huffs, his eyes widening over your seeming indifference. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that getting married to Taehyung would be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make?”

“I’m your closest friend! I know you better than you know yourself and-…”

“You don’t,” you retort. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all or even respect me when you think the worst of Taehyung when you barely even know him!”

“I could know Taehyung for a decade and still think the fucking worst of him!” Yoongi raises his voice, laughing humorlessly as he runs his hand through his hair. “I could know Taehyung or any other guy for a lifetime and still think that they won’t ever be good enough for you!”

The laugh that escapes you is offensive.

It’s as offensive as Yoongi making your graduation about him by crying to your sheets because Haein broke up with him, and it’s as offensive as you scoffing to his face when he said that having his job serves as his practice for a future with her.

“What, because you’re in love with me?” you spit, trying to trigger something in him just so he could leave you be, for good, because everything that’s he’s saying to now– with the defensiveness you’ve only heard from yourself whenever he rationalized trying to get back with his first love — takes you right back to your previous pining.

Yoongi’s only silent, trusting that you could read his mind, and you’ve never hated knowing him as much as you do than now.

“You’re telling me that you’re in love with me, right when I decided I was sick of loving you my whole life?” you whisper, the tears stinging from the corner of your eyes making your heart clench. You’ve been called too stubborn. Too calculating and too heartless, even by your own family, and for you to unfold in front of Yoongi this easily makes you wail. “Are you shitting me, Yoongi? Are you— are you out of your goddamn mind to tell me this?”

Yoongi looks down in shame, the truth of him being over his first love not relieving the weight on his shoulders like he foolishly expected, because everything he falls short when he sees you crying.

“I didn’t want to get back to Haein with something weighing so heavily on my chest,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to get back with her because you just ignoring me for a fucking week hurt more than any breakup I’ve had with her.” 

Yoongi, vividly, can remember how distraught he was. He can remember how he can’t recall a time wherein he didn’t have you to depend on, as if he didn’t ever outgrow the phase of him idolizing you and following you wherever you went.

As if he’s still the seventeen year old him asking to borrow your slippers for Haein, while deep down seeking your approval for her because he didn’t want to do anything without you beaming at him.

“I-I felt… I felt like I was losing my mind, Y/N.”

“Can you read my mind right now?” you ask, shakily exhaling as you look down on the floor.

“That’s a really stupid thing to bring up right now,” Yoongi breathlessly chuckles, letting his hair brush past his eyes because he’s a little terrified of looking how distraught, how disappointed, you are. “But no.”

“Do you not want to say it out loud?” he asks, making you laugh silently as you gathered the strength to sit next to him, yet not as close as you always did. “Whatever it is, it’s not like I’m going to give up now,” he mumbles, looking down on your hand that’s rested on the cushion, your pinky finger just centimeters away from his, yet he can’t move to hold you like he wants to.

You wanted Yoongi and he wants you, and there’s only so much points where you could intersect until you say what’s been lingering in your mind, just like every other apology the both of you have passed up.

“We need some time apart, Yoongi. We need space,” you mumble. “We need to figure it out on our own before we figure it out together because-…”

Yoongi finishes your thought for you, head tilted down and hand outstretched with the hope that comes with being a little too late for someone who’s waited a little too long.

“Because we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Yoongi refuses to break even if he comprehends exactly what you’re saying, because there’s no point in it when he knows he’ll never be angry at you. You can defend him and you can hurt him all at once, yet he’ll never curse you, simply because there’s no point picking at wounds he’ll keep on licking anyway.

“Do we just-…” he shrugs lightly, pinky finger painfully close to yours until he makes the heavy move of lifting it, just enough to to cover yours. “Do we find our way back to each other? Is that it?”

“That’s the plan, hopefully,” you smile, sucking in a breath you never thought would be this heavy. “I’ll find you if you find me.”

“I’ll find you when you find me,” Yoongi corrects. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”

You resent comfort and Yoongi abhors change, but there’s only so much the both of you could take until you realize that the only thing constant in your lives is each other, no matter how many seasons pass you by.

For Yoongi, it’s you.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

( ♡ ) 

The year that you spend with Yoongi flitting every once in awhile like he’s only a friend, and not the man you’ve first loved, is a year you didn’t think you’d ever spend.

Despite you and Taehyung separating amicably, he still took with him the love that you sincerely invested. He wasn’t the first boyfriend you’ve ever had, and although you were no stranger to heartbreak, he still imprinted a large chunk of him onto you.

At one point in your life, you did want to marry him; and at several points in your life after him that you don’t even think of denying, you really thought it would be him if not for the life that you led.

You don’t resent Yoongi for loving you a little too late because there’s no point in it, as much as Taehyung doesn’t even hate you in the slightest for letting him let you go in pursuit of the change that the both of you badly needed.

Yoongi could never bring himself to hate you either, even if being apart from you gnawed at him from the inside. Making something out of himself had been his biggest plan outside of pursuing you from a distance, because as soon he tendered in his resignation letter to his employers and cried right in front of the children he looked after, Yoongi won’t ever lie and say that he wasn’t scared.

Yoongi resents change even if you’re someone who yearns for it, and even with the terror that wracks his bones of starting new without you being there for him as his safety net, Yoongi does it scared anyway.

He does it scared with one eye closed as he puts the degree he’s only learned to love because of you to work, developing an app for families to look for certified, trustworthy nannies.

He does it scared anyway with his heart barely into himself and fully into you when he shows up a full night early before your family’s thanksgiving party, donning his reserved suit as he clutches a new pair of house slippers, which again, like always and just like he is, is only for you.

For you, it’s Yoongi.

Despite everything, it’s still Yoongi.

[girlsdads]

#ok it’s giving girl dad wearing his daughter’s handmade necklace special for him into work 🥺🥺😩😩

couldn’t stop thinking about this tag of mine, wrote a little smth about it 🥰

The stomping footfalls racing down the hall behind him could only be those of a toddler. Daniel turns and squats just in time for his tiny blonde projectile of a child to come barreling into his chest. The force sends Daniel falling back onto his butt with a surprised oof, his daughter giggling delightedly in his lap.

“Hey, Ellie-bug,” Daniel smiles. “Daddy’s gotta go to work, remember how we talked about it and you promised to be a big girl?” He brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth where it’s gotten stuck in a little smear of jam leftover from her breakfast. Daniel had shown Max how to make it just the way she likes—the pancake batter shaped in the silicone star mold, the silly faces drawn in jelly and jam.

Ellie’s head bobs up and down dutifully, but she makes no move to get up.

Max appears from the kitchen then, looking like a man who’s been fighting a losing battle with the second pancake. There’s a splatter of thick batter on his white t-shirt. He’s holding the spatula like it’s offended him somehow. Daniel looks at him over their daughter’s head, and loves him fiercely.

“She is of course the biggest girl,” Max says. Ellie grins proudly. “Why don’t you give Daddy your present now, then we will finish your pancakes.”

Daniel watches her grey-blue eyes light up like she’s just now remembering why she came running at him in the first place. She reaches a chubby hand into the bib pocket on her overalls, embroidered Enchanté script stretching as she roots around and produces a string of brightly-colored plastic beads. She holds it out to him expectantly.

Daniel takes the strand delicately in hand, wraps it around the backs of his fingers and rotates his wrist to get a good look. It’s a necklace, probably more of a choker given its relatively small circumference, the fat pony beads the only real indication it was made by a child. The powder pink and fuchsia beads are separated by interspersed pearlescent white orbs and clear sparkly stars. Smack in the center is a single number bead, a glittery pink three.

“Jeepers, did you make this for me? It’s beautiful!” Daniel says, and means it. He’s already been wanting to talk to his team about adding a jewelry collection to a future drop, and what better inspiration?

Ellie nods excitedly. “Papa helped me do a…,” she pauses, squints and tilts her little head, searching for the word, “…a pattern!”

“We made it the other day, while you were out with Blake,” Max chimes in. “For good luck.” He sounds almost bashful, like maybe it wasn’t their daughter’s idea in the first place. Daniel’s heart is so swollen it’s threatening to leak out through the gaps in his ribcage.

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Daniel muses, softly, mostly to himself. He stretches the elastic over his head, feels the smooth plastic three settle in the hollow of his throat. His pulse thrums evenly against it, grounding.

He flashes his biggest smile at his family. “How do I look?”

“Pretty, Daddy!” Ellie throws herself forward again, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s neck. It leaves him locking eyes with Max, who’s gazing down at the two of them like nothing else in the universe exists. Daniel can never quite get used to that look—still feels butterflies dancing up the back of his throat, his stomach dropped into a glorious freefall.

“Beautiful, Daniel,” Max says, reverent. “Always.”

[king-of-colors]

charles rowland to start the year with (meant to post this yesterday)

[lonely-night]

In which 40 year-old CEO Rio Vidal is named one of the most eligible bachelorettes, 26 year-old Agatha sees her in a bar, and Jennifer makes a bet that Agatha can’t possibly bed the seemingly straight CEO… Rio never stood a chance.

>>> immovable object, unstoppable force by 324b2fun

[seokminfilm]

the many faces of seokmin | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, lowercase intended, lots of kissing, reader calls seokmin baby, seokmin calls reader love, some cuddling and LOTS of play fighting, giggly seokmin

🪄 summary, your boyfriend subconsiously makes this one adorable facial expression that you can't get over.

🪄 author's note, happy 2025 lyrnation! i hope your january 1st has been/was a great first day of the new year! i saw the middle picture while i was scrolling on pinterest for xcalibur dk pictures (don't ask okay), and felt the urge to write about this very seokmin coded face 🤍 enjoy everyone!

🪄 now playing, free money, calum bowen

🪄 word count, 1.1k | for @kstrucknet

"I love that face you make." You pull away from Seokmin, still sitting on his lap as you smile at him while he stares up at you. "What face?" His big brown eyes are confused, and you stroke his hair lovingly, Seokmin smiling at you as you look down at him.

There was this one face your boyfriend had a habit of doing at some of the most random times. He would squint his eyes shut, scrunch his sharp nose up, and purse his lips together in the cutest way known to man. It was something you had noticed ever since you had started dating, and it was also something you couldn't get over.

"That one you do where your nose scrunches up." You say, hands still in Seokmin's wet curls as he shakes his head, smiling. "I make a lot of faces where my nose scrunches up, love."

Laughing, you nod, agreeing to him as you stick your hands under Seokmin's velvet robe, ticking his chest. He giggles cutely, falling back against the headboard as you pepper kisses all over his cheeks and nose.

"Love, stop! That tickles, you know," Seokmin has tears in his eyes as he pulls your hands from inside his dark blue robe, and you wipe them away, smiling even wider as he makes the face you had just mentioned.

"See! You just made the face! I saw it!" You say, pointing to him. Seokmin's eyes widen in surprise, and he giggled again, unable to stop himself.

"What face, love? I don't know what you're─hey, stop that," Seokmin says quickly, pulling your sneaking hand away from the opening to his bare chest. "Why are you trying to tickle me so much?"

"First of all, because it's really fun. Second of all─" You pause, pinching Seokmin's cheek as he glares at you. "Because you have the cutest giggles when I do it."

"Three," You add on, studying Seokmin's pretty features. "You make the face I'm talking about after I tickle you."

Seokmin sighs, hand running through his wet curls as he adjusts your position on his lap. He's smiling like an idiot, staring up at you with those big brown eyes as he whines, pulling your persistent hands away.

"Can't you just tell me how the face looks?" Seokmin's pout is heart melting, lips jutted out in a cute way as his eyes seem to sparkle up at you.

You sigh, shaking your head as you adjust the plush collar around Seokmin's neck. "I did tell you how the face looks. Seokmin, I don't think you even notice when you do it. It's like...."

"Like what?" Seokmin presses, obviously awaiting your answer as he takes your hands in his, stopping you from trying to tickle him once and for all.

"You're really persistent, love," Seokmin sighs, laughing at you nonetheless as you laugh with him, falling into his warm chest.

"I really want you to do the face again, baby. It's so cute on you." Seokmin hears your whining, and he sighs, smiling at you as he continues.

"Just tell me how I make the face. I'll try to do it so you can take a picture." Seokmin smiles, and you give him a wary look, confusing him as his face sours seconds later.

"Are you being sarcastic? Are you annoyed with me, baby?" Your sad voice makes Seokmin melt, and he shakes his head, brushing your cheek with his hand as he smiles again. His hand is warm against your cheek, and it makes you giddy inside, staring at him as he shakes his head yet again.

"I'm not annoyed, love, I promise. I'm for real, too─if you really like that one specific face I make, tell me who I make it so you can take a picture! You could even use it for your phone wallpaper if you want to." Seokmin says the last part shyly, knowing you would do it even if he didn't give you permission to─not that he minded.

"Seokmin, I love you so much." You smile gently, kissing him slowly, softly, as if he's a delicate statue you don't want to tip over and break. He responds in kind to this, softly grabbing your hips as he sighs under you sweetly.

"Why? Because I'm letting you use my face?" Seokmin asks playfully and you laugh, shaking your head as you tug on his earlobes.

You know how much he loves when you do that, and it doesn't fail now, either: Seokmin's smiling like crazy, and the tips of his ears are turning a bright red. Laughing, you peck him again, humming as you answer his question.

"Well, yes─" You answer truthfully, and Seokmin sighs, a faux pout on his face as you smile at him, tilting his chin up to look at you. "But also because I just love you so, so, so much."

Seokmin blushes at that, and returns his hands back to your hips, smiling at you before you lean down and press a kiss to his soft lips yet again, causing him to giggle under you.

"Stop laughing," You pout playfully, and Seokmin sighs, still giggling as he apologizes. "Sorry, sorry─I'm sorry, okay? Hey, hey, wait─no! I said I was sorry─" Before Seokmin can say anything else, your hands are tickling his stomach and sides, causing him to squeal and kick and giggle like there's no tomorrow.

Now having Seokmin distracted, you take his phone from his bedside table and swipe open to the camera, snapping pictures of his smiling face. You wait and wait and wait, tickling and tickling and tickling him until─

"Got it!" You yell triumphantly, and Seokmin can finally catch a breather, tears streaming down his clean cheek as he sighs, still giggling in the process.

"See? This face." You say, giving his phone back to him. Seokmin takes it, studying the picture as he blushes. "Do I really look like that?"

"You're so adorable, Seokmin. Look at you!" You smile, and Seokmin laughs, saving the picture before powering off his phone. He's laughing and sighing still, and you laugh at just how out of breath he is, earning a playful glare from him.

"Sorry, baby, I'll stop now. I swear," You promise, raising your hands up in surrender. Sighing, Seokmin just smiles, taking your hands in his as he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his legs around you and trapping you in between them.

Squealing, you kick and scream, giggling as Seokmin peppers your face with pecks, kisses, and tiny little bites.

"Now," Seokmin says lowly, breath hitting your ear as he smiles deviously against your earlobe. "It's my turn."

At least you got the picture before Seokmin tickled you and loved you until you couldn't breathe─just the way you did him.

[sweetbunpura]

Limited Time Menu

Mostro Lounge is moderately busy on most days, mostly due to Azul's marketing and the like. But for tonight, the Lounge was PACKED. Waiters were running too and fro around the dinning room, taking orders and serving food to customers. The infamous first years sat at a booth as they took in the atmosphere.

"Damn, it took forever to get a seat." Ace grumbled. "What's going on today?"

"I heard Azul was running a new limited time menu." Jack responded. "Maybe that's why everyone's piling in here."

"Hmph." Sebek crossed his arms. "What would be so important to bring the student body here?"

"I mean..." Deuce started. "We're here."

Epel chimed. "Yeah, but, we're not here for the promotion and Ortho's here because he wants to hang out. Grim is also a give in."

"Mm-hmm!" Ortho nodded and smiled.

"It's too noisy." Grim huffed. "And Henchhuman said she had stuff to do for the next week."

"Hi, Freshies!" They turned their attention to Ruggie. "Here's the menus! Now, what can I get you started on?"

Jack answered "Water's just fine. Right, guys?" They nodded.

"Sure, sure." Ruggie wrote it down. "And we got a limited time menu going on, only available for the next three days."

"What's the best thing?" Ace asks.

"Honestly? All of it." Ruggie sighs. "We ran out of four things today, so you better get it while it's going."

"Thanks, Ruggie-senpai."

The hyena beastman nodded and left, leaving the first years to look over the menu.

"There's six things on here. Ruggie made it seem like it was a lot." Ace frowns.

"It all sounds good though." Deuce mutters as he looks at the menu. "The Chicken-fried Steak sounds good."

"So do the Biscuits and Gravy." Epel hums as he imagines the food.

"I'm interested in the Jambalaya." Sebek voices.

"Chicken and Waffles?" Ace raises an eyebrow. "I'll guess I'll go for it."

"I wonder what a Shrimp Po' Boy is..." Jack reads the ingredients.

"Gimme those Smothered Pork Chops!" Grim licked his lips.

"Here's your water." Ruggie set it down. " I think I heard Grim yelling out an order." He pulled out his pad. "So, we're ready?"

As each boy gave their order and Ruggie departed to fill in the order, Mostro continued to fill with new customers and those who left sang praises of the menu. A couple of minutes later and their food was out, piping hot and smelling good.

"That smells so good, holy shit." Ace eyed his food.

The others nodded and Ruggie bid them farewell. They took their first bite and an explosion of flavor filled their mouths.

"No way..." Deuce tore into the chicken fried steak. "How is this so good?"

"I want a second helping!" Epel was roughly halfway thought his meal.

"Who knew this food combination would be so good?" Jack took another bite of his sandwich.

Sebek was silent as he nearly finished off his plate. Grim was happily eating, shoving the pork chops in his mouth. By the time Ruggie returned, they had finished as they all looked full and content.

"Thank you for choosing Mostro Lounge tonight!" The hyena beastman took the payment. "We hope you choosing us again!"

As closing time neared, eventually the dining room cleared and the Lounge closed. In the kitchen, Azul addressed the staff with a smile on his face.

"Today was an extremely busy night!" He clapped his hands. "And I'm glad everyone continued to work hard! A round of applause for everyone!" He waited as their cheers settled down. "And thank Yuu-san for allowing us to borrow some of her time!"

Yuu gave a tired smile as she leaned against one of the pillars and cheers filled the room. Afterwards, the dorm members went to bed and Yuu bid the trio goodnight as she left.

"I'm gonna go pass out." She gave a kiss to Floyd's check as she departed. "Night."

"You're in a good mood, Azul. I'm assuming profits were good tonight?" Jade asked once the door closed.

Azul hummed. "Yes! Fantastically so! There was a 65% increase!"

Jade nodded. "And what of you, Floyd? I saw you back to back with Miss Yuu in the kitchen. Since she refuses to share her family recipes with us, surely you know them?"

Azul turned to Floyd with rapt attention. "Oh? Do tell, Floyd."

Floyd shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Nah. I promised Shirmpy that I wouldn't tell ya anythin'." He yawned. "And I value that promise more than I value anythin' else."

The octopus merman deflated as Jade chuckled. The perks of being the best friend and boyfriend to one amazing chef. Floyd closed his eyes and smiled.

"But~ Her food was so good. She let me try everythin'~"

"Don't tell me that!"

[seriouslycalamitous]

HAPPY NEW YEAR! MY FIRST FIC OF 2025 IS HERE!!

Title: Only Just Begun

6.3K Words

Actors AU + New Years Kiss, Scarian

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61880542

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Roundup 2024

Thanks for the tags on your writing round ups @run-for-chamo-miles, @drowninginships, and @emeryhall! I just got back from a weeklong trip and instead of doing laundry, I'm joining in on the roundup fun.

FIC I moved from lurker to active fandom participant this year with a bang. I posted my first fic ever for EGF and have basically been writing or posting non-stop since then. I wrote/co-wrote 5 fics this year and clocked in at 101, 725 words.

Kill Em With Kindness - rated T, 6.5k, Watford-Era, getting together fic

When no one seems to care that Baz is sad, Simon steps in to help. The only reasonable explanation for all Simon's kindness is that he's trying to kill Baz, right? (My most popular fic as measured by kudos.)

Knock Your Socks Off - rated T, 4k, Watford-Era, 7th year fic

Baz steals Simon's socks. Simon blames the sock monster. Chaos ensues.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch - rated M, 42k, Addie LaRue AU, a truly epic romance

Told in two alternating timelines that span from 1700s Hampshire all the way to early 2000's Washington, DC, this fic follows Baz as he spends centuries searching for the love of all his lives. (This was the fic that convinced me I could write long and holds a very special place in my heart. Is it angsty? Yes. Is it some of the most beautiful prose I've ever written? Also yes.)

The Boy Next Door - rated M, 47k, and they were neighbors AU, a coming of age romance

When Simon moves in with his gran, he decides to befriend the mysterious boy next door. He changes both their lives in the process. (My most popular fic by literally every other measure.)

The Reason for The Season - rated T, 1.6k, text fic, co-written with @thewholelemon

Dev and Niall make a list. Holiday hijinks abound. (A bday gift for @mooncello)

ART I do not currently have a great way to track my dolls and searched my Instagram to do the math, only to realize I hadn't posted every doll I made either! (If anyone has a good art tracking system, I'm open to ideas.) If my count is correct, I clocked in at a grand total of 35 dolls this year, including:

10 Simons

15 Bazzes

2 Pennys

2 Nialls

2 Devs

1 Mage

1 Fiona

1 Agatha

1 Shep

The picture below shows my earliest dolls, where I was still experimenting with style and form. As you can see, many of them are quite flat. (Fun fact: All of these dolls--including their clothing--were made before I owned a sewing machine.)

Going 3D was actually an accident, but we have the Watford Baz and Simon below to thank for it! After committing to 3D dolls, I kept evolving my pattern---improving joints, proportions, and adding details like ears!---until we reached my most current iterations.

Now every doll has their own special pattern that takes into account their canon proportions, where available. Notice Baz is tall and slender where Simon is extra fluffy!

I did not include any of the dolls I created for COC 2024 since I assume everyone has seen them already, but I linked the master post in case you missed a day.

Finally, in addition to dolls, I also created 2 plushies (a merwolf and a bunbaz) plus 12 finger puppets this year.

It's hard to quantify dolls like fics, especially since almost every doll before COC did not have a dedicated tumblr post. However, here are some fun art stats:

Most Popular Art Post: The Watford Map

Most Popular Doll: FIONA!

Second Most Popular Doll: Felt Smut (Look @emeryhall! Dragonboy Simon is indeed the sexiest given that this is my duplicate of your doll!)

I also had three art collaborations this year:

Baz and The Prophecy - Doll and Tapestry, a COTTA collaboration with @iamamythologicalcreature

Ballet Baz and Disco Simon - a CORB collaboration with @melodysmash (Read the fic she wrote--Body Language. It is as adorable as these dolls!)

Watford Advent Map - a tapestry made for COC 2024 with help from @rimeswithpurple

While it has definitely been a fabulously productive year, I think my greatest achievement has been all the new friendships I've fostered because of fandom. Y'all bring me so much joy, and I am so happy I found this little corner of the internet.

I am currently drained of all creative energy (I can't imagine why!), so you may not hear from me for a while. However, I promise I am still around---likely catching up on all the fic and art I've missed while being a literal word and doll factory. With all that said, if you have an idea and wanna collab in the new year, I'm all ears and tons of fun!

Hellos and high-fives for the last time in 2024! @alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus

@ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal

@martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony

@raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee

@stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon

@valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[myymi]

"So, let me get this straight," Shadow says, sighing as he grips the bridge of his nose, "A badnik latched itself onto the kid, exploded, and when the smoke cleared he was like this?" "Yep." Sonic nods, popping the 'p' as he looks down at his little brother. Tails is sitting in Knuckles' lap, playing with the echidna's communicator. "Sums that up pretty well." "And instead of just giving me that simple, brief explanation, you completely ignored me twice." The black hedgehog adds on with a frown, glaring at his rival. "In his defense," Rouge cuts in, glancing between the two hedgehogs, "Blue did have a baby to look after. And he promised an explanation eventually." "Exactly!" Sonic grins and leans back into the couch, his arms crossing over his chest, "Not my fault you're impatient, Shadow." "So what's your excuse, Rouge?" Shadow asks, turning away from Sonic so he could raise a brow at the bat. "I said I'd call you back." "Regardless," Amy cuts in then, sighing as she looks down at where Tails is sitting. He's currently watching a few different colored dots as they bounced around the screen of Knuckles' communicator. "We still need to figure out how we're going to get Tails back to normal." "Well I wouldn't trust G.U.N to handle it." Shadow grumbles, stepping backwards until he's close enough to lean against the wall behind him, "I doubt they're smart enough to invent an age reverse serum. There's only two people on this planet that could accomplish that." "And I'm guessing one of them is bit preoccupied with a few pretty colors." Rouge hums, glancing over at the small fox. "We don't have a choice other than the scientists." Amy says as she drops her face into her paws. "It's not like Eggman is going to tell us how to fix this."

[mischiefbuckley]

Don’t look back, baby, follow me

also this is dedicated to my amazing bestie/mutual Nessa @epiaphany ilysm and she dedicated the most beautiful gif set to me on Christmas Eve and it made me cry, so I hope you enjoy this very much the Eddie to my Buck <3

Summary: Eddie ends up going to a New Year’s Eve party with his coworker and the only friend he has made so far while now living in Los Angeles and working at station 136 completing his probationary year as a firefighter. He ends up chatting and spending the night away with a beautiful man who approaches him while he’s in the kitchen.

[owl-with-a-pen]

They could’ve been anywhere for New Year. Literally anywhere – no one was going to blink an eye if you turned up in The Bahamas thirty seconds before midnight with Supergirl as a best friend. In fact, Nia had lost count of the party invites she’d received from acquaintances at best just for being in Kara’s general social circle.

The first proper year since Kara’s identity reveal had gone global and, suffice to say, the dust hadn’t settled just yet.

But no invite came without expectation. In this case, that Supergirl would be a part of the package. Everyone wanted a spectacle. They wanted the suit, the show, the fanfare. Even CatCo’s office party felt a little too intense for Nia’s liking. While most of their co-workers had relaxed into the notion of having Supergirl as their boss, that didn’t stop journalists at rival news stations from practically clawing the doors down, all hungry for the latest scoop into the life of Kara Zor-El.

So, they didn’t spend New Year’s Eve on a beach or a yacht, the roof of a skyscraper or even at CatCo. There was only one place that would’ve felt right – the only place that mattered. Being with the people that mattered.

Which was why Nia found herself snuggled up with Brainy on the Tower’s couch by 5pm. Super suit officially retired for the evening, she lounged about with the rest of her friends in comfortable civilian clothes, wine glass in hand and like a zillion different party games strewn across the coffee table.

Lena and Brainy had both spent the better part of the afternoon poring over the game instructions with the same sort of life-or-death intensity usually reserved for their day jobs, but Nia wasn’t about to complain. Brainy was on her team, after all, which meant that whatever they got around to playing, they were totally going to kill it. She and Brainy were already sat at the champion spot on the game night board – really, the others didn’t stand a chance. Brainy didn’t get all the credit for that, either. Nia’s powers came with some added benefits – like dreaming up specific strategies or figuring out the rules to games they hadn’t even thought of playing yet. She’d gotten pretty good at it, in fact, and no matter what Alex said, it was not cheating.

So long as she didn’t get caught.

“So,” Alex said as she grabbed a beer from the cooler, clinking her bottle against Kara’s glass as she passed. “Your first year without a secret identity. Better or worse than you thought it’d be?”

Kara pulled a face, hiding behind her glass. “Can I answer that after midnight?”

“Staller,” Alex teased, settling down next to Kelly who had already claimed a spot around the coffee table.

“Hey—not fair,” Kara said, speeding over to join them. “I shouldn’t be the only one answering that question, anyway. A lot has happened this year. I mean, the DEO officially started up again, you and Kelly got that new house.” She pointed to Nia and Brainy emphatically. “And you two – you got engaged!”

Nia grinned, leaning forward. “Oh, you mean this?” she asked, brandishing her new Legion ring with pride.

Alex laughed. “We get it, already, your fiancé bestowed you with the power of flight.”

Brainy scoffed. “This ring offers more than just flight.” He scooped Nia’s hand into his as though to demonstrate, linking their fingers together. Nia’s grin widened. “It’s also a psychic blocker and comms device, as well as offering protection against extreme climates found at higher altitudes, otherwise compromising—”

“Show off,” Alex cut in, poking out her tongue.

“Well, I think our engagements rings were pretty perfect,” Kelly said, pecking her wife on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Alex pouted, “but flight.”

Kelly waved her off. “I get nauseous flying anyway.” She prodded the backpack stowed beneath the coffee table with her foot, giving some shape to the folded shield tucked inside. “Guardian stays grounded for a reason.”

“Yes.” Brainy eyed Kelly warmly, sitting upright. “Let me know if that ever changes.”

“I appreciate the suit upgrades, Brainy, really,” Kelly assured him. “But you couldn’t pay me to strap on a pair of wings, or a flight ring for that matter.”

“Understood,” Brainy said, although Nia could tell he hadn’t quite put his flight plans to bed just yet.

When he relaxed back against the sofa, she took the opportunity to claim his lap as her new headrest, making herself comfortable. Their hands remained entwined across her stomach, Brainy’s thumb working gentle circles over her knuckles.

Just before anyone could get too comfy, the elevator doors dinged from across the room and Lena stepped into the loft, her face obscured by an intimidatingly tall stack of pizza boxes. “Pizza’s here,” she announced, struggling to see around the veritable tower in her hands. “There’s more downstairs if anyone has an arm to spare.”

“Well timed, Lena,” J’onn said with a smile. He was already jogging forward, half-phased through the Tower’s floorboards. “I’ll get the rest.”

“Oh,” Lena called out before he could disappear, “I also had to leave the wine in your office.”

J’onn winked before melting through to the level below.

“Prioritising food over alcohol; who are you and what have you done with Lena Luthor?” Alex teased, rising to greet her at the same time as Kara.

“Oh relax, it wasn’t the good stuff,” Lena said as she assigned pizza boxes to the two sisters. “There should still be some of that left over in the pantry downstairs.”

Nia smiled, watching the interaction with absolutely zero intention of moving herself. Instead, she spread out even further across Brainy’s lap, stretching out her arms. “D’you think they ever fight over who gets to deliver here?”

“Why?” Alex asked. “Because we’re superheroes, or because of Lena’s tips?”

“Both.”

Brainy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “It is highly likely.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Lena called out in exasperation. “Pizza’s getting cold.”

Nia groaned, pushing herself up with a little help from her fiancé. “Fine, fine, we’re coming.”

----

The next few hours passed with ease. They ate and chatted and played way too many high-stakes card games. Brainy was officially banned from poker by 8 o’clock and Nia wasn’t allowed any more pre-game ‘warm up’ naps. She let it slide – she’d been meaning to practice her conscious dream-state, anyway. Besides, by the time the strong stuff came out of the pantry, everyone was playing with every super advantage they had at their disposal.

Nia wasn’t sure what time it was when she felt Brainy begin to grow restless at her side. Without saying anything, she lifted her head from his shoulder, giving him a little more room to work with. Not long after that, he broke away from the circle, heading out to the balcony for some fresh air.

She gave him some time at first, easing back into the conversation, but as the clock ticked closer towards midnight, she knew she needed to check in. After excusing herself, she creaked her way unsubtly up the stairs, finding Brainy exactly where she'd expected him to be – with his arms folded over the balcony’s edge, his chin tipped up towards the stars.

He always looked so peaceful when he was alone like that. His eyes may have been closed, but his mind was wide open. Right now, Nia imagined a million and one thoughts coursing seamlessly through Brainy’s head. To anyone else, the very notion of thinking to that extreme was a one-way ticket to migraine territory. But Brainy revelled in it. His twelve thought tracks were flourishing, broadened to new and exhilarating horizons ever since he’d first removed his inhibitors.

Sure, it had been rocky at first, but with the time to become reacquainted with his own potential, Brainy had only become more certain of himself for it. He’d once tried to explain it to Nia - how it felt for him without the restrictions that had once clouded his mind - and although there was no way she could ever put herself fully in his shoes, the way he had described it had sounded so profound, so freeing, that she’d found herself tearing up long before he’d even finished talking.

To be alone with one’s thoughts took on a whole new meaning for a Coluan, and it was the surest way to calm him whenever he became overwhelmed. Sometimes, especially after being around so many people for so long, Brainy needed to take a step back from it all and recharge his social metre. To find that connection between himself and the Big Brain and to truly nourish it.

It did mean that he often lost track of time. And so, as quietly as she could, Nia padded out to the balcony edge alongside her fiancé, brushing her arm up against his.

He stirred slowly, his lashes catching the starlight as he turned his head, acknowledging her without having to say a word.

Nia stood with him a while in that comfortable silence. The night air felt sobering against her cheeks, and the city below was so alive. Every brightly lit window was a doorway into another world, another person celebrating that step closer to a new year on planet Earth. Down on the ground, the bars were abuzz with people, whole groups spilling out onto the streets with drink in hand, enjoying the mild weather and fragrant breeze.

Nia took in a deep breath, letting it go slowly. “How long do we have?” she murmured.

“Eleven minutes, twenty-nine seconds.”

She grinned. Brainy’s response was as immediate as ever. She tipped her head against his shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. “Kara was right, y’know. This year has been pretty intense. In a good way.”

Brainy’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He lowered his head, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Indeed, it has.”

“Think we’ll top it next year?”

Brainy’s smiled widened. He turned his attention back towards the skyline, scanning it with new vigour. “You wanted a summer wedding, correct?”

“Spring or summer,” Nia said with a shrug, burying her nose firmer into his throat. “So long as the flowers are out. Mom would’ve wanted to see them in bloom.”

Brainy was still mapping the stars ahead, his dark eyes moving rapidly from left to right. There was a secretive edge to his smile, and a far-away look in his expression - one that told her he was already planning something special. He bit his lip, rising proudly where he stood. “Then the year to come will certainly exceed the last.”

Nia buzzed with anticipation; his excitement was infectious, igniting her own. Honestly, she would’ve married him right that second if it hadn’t been for all the hard work they’d put into the wedding plan already. Although, with an officiator in the other room and a bottle of wine already going to her head, she couldn’t deny it was a tempting thought.

She was thrown from that thought when a flash lit up the sky above their heads, followed by an explosive pop and bang a second later. Instinctively, Brainy clutched at her hand, holding her close. Nia tensed expectantly, but there was no fire to follow, no superhero emergency at all - just a stray firework set off by some kids down below.

“Little early,” Nia murmured, nudging Brainy’s arm. It was still beautiful, though, and she found that she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The firework streamed across the sky in fine shimmers of red and gold, reminding her a little of the translucence of her own dream energy, before spilling downward, raining a mist of glowing embers just a few blocks away.

The sky was dark again by the time she realised that Brainy hadn’t been watching the firework with her. Instead, he was looking at her, his eyes bright with reverence, twinkling with a different kind of spark.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of the moment,” he suggested in a low voice, leaning forward.

Nia smiled when his lips brushed across her cheek, trailing towards her ear. She closed her eyes appreciatively, tipping her chin closer to his mouth, his lashes tickling her nose. “Aren’t we supposed to wait for midnight?” she murmured.

“Hm.” Brainy’s lips curved in contemplation. His thumb traced the line of her jaw slowly, catching a curl of her hair before stroking it back behind her ear. His fingers lingered there at the nape of her neck, digging fine crescents into her skin. “I think we’ve traversed time enough to allow for certain… deviations in that respect.”

Nia shivered. She didn’t need much convincing; in fact, she was already leaning in for the kiss, one hand still gripping the balcony wall, the other locked tightly around Brainy’s arm, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

She was still a little heady from the wine, but the kiss felt like a firework of its own inside her chest, warming her from the inside out. Brainy’s hands were electric everywhere they touched - her face, her hair, her neck, each sensation enhanced by the alcohol roaring through her blood.

She could have believed they were flying.

Crap. Because they were flying.

Or at least, she was. Without even thinking, Nia had let her Legion ring tap into the psychic suggestion she’d been broadcasting a little too boldly, so much that it had begun to lift her off her feet.

When she gasped in surprise, Brainy grinned against her mouth. He held her steady, anchoring her to him until she found her footing again - on solid ground, this time.

“Thanks,” Nia mumbled against his chin, ducking her head into his shoulder, trying to assuage her own embarrassment. She could feel the rumble of laughter in Brainy’s chest and couldn’t help but smile along. “That’s definitely gonna take some getting used to.”

They held each other for a while longer, so comfortable in each other’s arms that Nia nearly lost track of time.

That was until voices started picking up back inside.

A moment later, Nia heard Kara calling: “Countdown’s starting!”

Already? Nia could hardly believe it. She grinned mischievously. “C’mon,” she said, tugging Brainy’s arm.

In the light of the Tower, he looked about as flushed as she felt, his blond hair frazzled against his jaw. He moved eagerly with her momentum, letting her drag him towards the balcony door.

By the time they were back inside, the countdown was nearly halfway through. They got as far as the top of the stairs before the final three seconds started ringing out.

Thinking fast, Nia made her decision. Spinning impulsively at the final second, she wrapped her arms around Brainy’s shoulders, pulling him in for another – official – kiss.

His lips were the warmest welcome she could hope for to usher in the new year.

They parted just as a bottle popped across the room. Brainy’s hands slipped around Nia’s waist, bumping his nose against hers before they both blinked back into reality, noticing for the first time the chaos that had erupted in just seconds below them.

“Ah,” Brainy said under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” Nia answered.

Over at the coffee table, Lena was pouring champagne flutes like her life depended on it from a bottle that’s neck was furiously frothing over courtesy of a certain over-eager Kryptonian. Kara was already making up for her mistake by super-speeding glasses under the bottle faster than they could spill over, placing them on every available surface she could find.

“Okay, you guys really need to start taking some of these,” Kara insisted.

“Way ahead of you,” Alex said, snatching two flutes from the table and handing one to Kelly. They clinked glasses, sharing another kiss.

J’onn laughed. “Here, let me help,” he said, angling the bottle in Lena’s hands so that it was a little less explosive on the next pour.

Lena let go of the bottle entirely, more than happy to let J’onn take over in exchange for a glass of her own.

“Us too,” Nia said, catching Brainy’s eye. “I could use another glass.”

Lena raised a brow expectantly. “Oh, I bet you do.”

Nia tried not to blush.

Once everyone had settled back around the table, flutes in hand, champagne mostly mopped up, Alex raised her glass, tapping it insistently with a fingernail. Instead of instigating a speech, she pointed her glass towards Kara. “So?” she asked. “Better or worse?”

Kara groaned aloud, muffling her voice with the rim of her glass. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

Alex winked. “Never.”

Kara rolled her eyes, lifting her free hand in surrender. “You know what? Fine. I’ll say it. Because, as a matter of fact, despite how freeing this year has been for me, I can’t deny that it’s also been hard. Really hard at times. In fact, for a while, I really did begin to wonder whether any of this was worth it.” She pursed her lips, knocking Alex’s arm. “But,” she countered, drawing out the word, “every time the media tried to beat me down, or the military pushed into my affairs, you were all there for me. You stood by me, supported this decision and supported me whenever I needed it. You reminded me why I wanted this in the first place.” Kara’s lips were already starting to tremble. She swiped quickly at her eyes, sniffing. “What I’m saying is, I really couldn’t have got through this year without you guys.”

“Kara,” Alex said softly.

“Stop, or I won’t finish,” Kara laughed. With a steadying breath, she hooked one arm around her sister’s shoulders, looping her other with Lena’s. “So, yes, this year could have been the worst, but it was the best because of all of you.” She raised her glass above Alex’s head, beaming proudly. “To family!”

“To family,” everyone echoed back.

Nia clinked her drink with everyone else, trying desperately to hold it together. She locked eyes with Brainy from across the table, seeing the happy tears that already stained his cheeks, the easy smile he wore now for no one’s benefit but his own, and realised just how lucky she was to be surrounded by so much love. Despite the hardships she’d faced in both her personal and hero life, she had a family here, one that may have come under its fair share of strain, sure, but had only grown stronger from what it had endured.

The Legion ring suddenly felt warmer around her finger, like a hug from a new friend. Maybe it was all in her head, or maybe it really was responding to her good mood.

Brainy had told her once that a Legion ring meant different things to different people, but at its heart, it represented the joined forces of the Legionnaires themselves. Their connection to one another, despite what made them so different.

For her, though, at its core, the ring was a promise. As certain as the one she and Brainy had made to each other on the training room floor. A promise shared by the echo of her friends right that second.

To family.

With the person she loved the most right there at her side, their devotion to each other worn as plainly as the rings on their fingers, she realised that promise was only just getting started.

Nia grinned, taking Brainy’s hand.

She couldn’t wait for the year ahead.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟹-𝟺: 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚄𝙿/𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟻𝟷𝟼

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 🏒💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛’s: 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎 ⛸️💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 🥅💚

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕…𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝…𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝…𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!! 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜! 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚐 𝙰𝙷𝙰𝙷

𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃: 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝟸??? 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔— 𝙸 𝚍𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚘. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝— 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢˚*•✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Grace…please. Me and Riley have heard enough of your playlist. Just admit mine is better so we can carry on with our sleepover festivites.” Bree sighed, resting her head on Riley’s shoulder.

“Just one more song! Then I’ll be done.” Grace smiled as she pressed play on Shuffle as she went to her Spotify app, “Whatever song it is…I’m 101% sure you guys will lohooooove it.” 

The song played for a bit, the music bouncing around the room as Riley and Bree slowly started to realize what they were allowing themselves to listen to…

“…I-Is this…Peaches from the Mario movie…?” The blue eyed teen snickered, laughing louder as Bree just sadly facepalmed. 

The glasses wielding teenager got up from where she was sitting, standing up and basically snatching away Grace’s phone from her palms. 

“Okahay, yeahhhhhh…no. I’m turning this off.” The purple cladded girl mused as she did just that, giving the electronic back to the green pajama wearing girl. “So, based on popular vote…which was just me, myself and I…I declare myself the winner of Deciding Who’s Spotify Playlist is the MOST Banger! Or DWSPITMB for short.”

“How come you get to decide what playlist is quote on quote 'the best?!' I think mine is pretty suherb.” The smaller teenager huffed. 

Bree adjusted her glasses, raising an unamused brow at her smaller friend as she sighed in disappointment. Riley, though, just chuckled in utter amusement, sitting on her bed criss-cross as she munched on some the leftover popcorn they made earlier in the night.

Bree loved proving people wrong…and Riley loved watching it allllll unfold. 

“First off: it’s superb. And second, no it is not! Your playlist just consists of meme songs!” The chocolate eyed girl said matter-of-factly.

The green cladded teenager scoffed, “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Goofy Goober…Smash Mouth All Stars…It’s Raining Tacos— shall I continue?” 

Grace crossed her arms, glancing to the side of her as she wallowed in defeat. 

In her defense…although the songs she liked were classified as 'meme songs'…they lowkey kind of ate down…

…Just a bit…

…Juuuuust a tad…?

“No…” The smallest of the three huffed. 

“And you!” Bree said as she pointed at Riley, ignoring the small surprised squeak that came out of the blondie, “Your playlist is just straight up Disney songs!! If that doesn’t scream basic I don’t know what does…” 

The blue cladded teenager swiflty got up and went towards her best friends which resulted into all of them looking like the formation of a small triangle, “Wooooah woah woah woah! Don’t drag me into this! Disney’s songs are peak and they will continue to stay peak!” 

Grace grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck, “After Encanto…Disney kinda fell off I’m not gonna lie, Ri…” She grumbled under her breath. But her dismay, Riley heard it loud and clear..

Crystal clear, to be exact.

“A GIRL WHO HAS 'NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP' IN HER PLAYLIST SHOULD NOT BE TALKING!!!” The girl in blue screamed. 

“IT’S GENUINELY A FUN SONG! YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS YOU DON’T HAVE MY MUSIC TASTE! AND AT LEAST MY PLAYLIST HAS A THEME…unlike someone I know…” The black haired teen snapped back, trying not to giggle at Bree’s loud and dramatic offended gasp. 

“HEY HEY HEY!! DON’T YOU EEEEEVEN START!!” The girl in glasses yelled, “You wouldn’t know good music if it hit you right in the face!”

“Oho I do so know good music! But you have Laufey, Jack Stauber and Green Day all in the same. playlist!!!” The blue iris wielding teenager scoffed, putting a hand on her hip, “And besides, if your playlist is the 'superb' one, what have I been listening to this entire time on my playlist, huh?”

“Trash.” Bree said plainly and simply, the three best friends locking eye contact with one another for a moment or two before bursting into loud uncontrollable cackles. 

The three teen’s laughed at their silliness, all sitting on Riley’s bed as they tried to calm down to the best to their abilities.

“Trash.” Grace exclaimed as she tried her best to match Bree’s voice before breaking character and snickering again, “PFFTHAH! Even the wahay yohou said ihat was juhust sohoho fucking peherfect.”

“Ihi dohon’t know whahat cahame ohohover me…i-ihit juhust happened!” The purple cladded teen snorted, pulling out her phone from out of her pocket, “Fohor the Archives?” 

“For the Archives.” The tallest teen agreed, all of them getting close to one another to take a picture. 

The brown eyed girl pressed the button to encapture the memory through a single photograph, looking down at it happily as she squinted, looking at it more attentively. 

Bree screamed in shock, putting her phone face down on the bed as she pulled her hood up, engulfing her face inside of it as she layed on her back, “MY GLASSES! MY. FREAKING. GLASSES!!! THEY’RE UPSIDE DOWN!! WHY DIDN’T YOU TWO TELL ME?!” She cried in embarrassment. 

Her two friend’s in question exchanged a look with each other, holding back more small snickers, “Ihi thought yohou were gohoing fohor aha look!” Grace grinned. 

“I WASN’T!!!” The purple cladded one huffed, fixing her glasses so they weren’t upside down anymore, “You two are so damn fake…”

“Oho puh-leeeease.” The hazelnut eyed girl sweetly said, wrapping the other in a big bear hug, “You loooooove us.” She teased. 

The blondie leaned on her bed-frame, hugging her knees together as she rested her chin on her knees, watching the other two bicker about absolutely nothing.

And suddenly…out of nowhere, Riley’s fond smile turned to…a small, sad one…

She didn’t know why.

She had no idea why.

But all of a sudden…she just felt…sad.

Not, like, depressed sad…

…But not subtle sad, either. 

“…I’m gonna miss this…” The taller suddenly blurted out, not really carrying if the other two heard or not…

…But, of course…they heard loud and clear…

…Crystal, even.

“…Miss what, Ri?” The smallest of the three asked casually, giving the blue eyed teen her full attention as Bree looked at her as well.

The blonde rubbed her knuckles slightly, anxiously looking away and avoiding eye contact with the other two, “Just…hanging out with you guys, I guess. Just…being here, y'know? School starts in, like, a week and I really don’t think I’m ready…”

“Don’t remind me…” The girl with glasses whined dramatically, flopping on Grace’s chest as the hazelnut eyed teen happily and gladly held her in her arms tighter, squeezing her comfortingly as she took her hood off from her head, “It’s freaking crazy…I remember us cleaning out our Middle School lockers like it was yesterday…” The green cladded girl grinned with nostalgia. 

“Pff…speaking of, you guys remember when I found a year old sandwhich in Ryan’s locker?! That shit was hilarious.” Riley said as the other two laughed. 

“That shit was disgusting. I’ve never seen something so…so…hideous…” The girl in purple pajamas fake gagged, “…Well, besides you of course.” The chocolate eyed teen said as she gestured towards the hazelnut eyed teen. 

“HEY!” Grace huffed, lightly flicking Bree’s forehead. 

The tallest of the three of them let out a short laugh…but, it lasted longer than her usual, genuine laugh…

…This one seemed…forced. 

Her laugh’s started to sound a bit choked as tears ran down her face. In alarm, both Bree and Grace went to her side’s immediately, making sure their friend was okay…

…Well, as 'okay' as a crying person could be at the moment. 

“Sorry…sorry, gosh…I’m…I-I’m b-being so stupid…” The blondie sniffled, wiping her nose and face with her sleeve. “No…you aren’t.” The girl with glasses reassured as she rubbed the other’s back, “You’re just upset…and that’s okay.”

“But…B-But I’m not upset…” 

“…You’re not?” The shortest one of them all asked carefully.

Riley sniffled once more, glaring at her knees, “I don’t…a-at least I don’t think I am. I’m just…scared, I guess.” She explained as more and more tears ran down her face like they were never-ending, “I…I liked Middle School…a lot. I met you guys a-and s-so many other p-people that changed m-my life for the b-better.” The baby blue eyed teen said softly, a wobbly smile stretching to her features. 

“I-I was able to f-find myself and know who I-I wanna be!! A-And n-not to mention I-I was even a-able to d-do d-dodgeball on Gym days! Dodgeball!” The blonde exclaimed whilst sobbing. 

Grace rested her head on Riley’s shoulder, holding her hand in her’s to stop the taller’s excessive hand rubbing, “Still saluting you for carrying our Dodgeball team...” The green loving teenager murmured.

“B-But now…it’s j-just Middle School a-all over again. A-And I-I’m gonna be the n-new k-kid…” The blue cladded kid sighed as she buried her head on her knees, “A-And I won’t have you guys…”

There was a long enough silence that lasted for a while; all that was heard was Riley’s quiet sobs (well— as quiet as one can get when crying) and Bree and Grace’s breathing patterns.

Grace crossed her arms, giggling, “Uhuh…who said that?” 

“You two are gonna be at a different school—” The blonde tried to explain but was almost immediately cut off by her other best friend, “Still doesn’t mean we won’t be there. Phones exist, Ri-Tie. We have our group-chat! We can FaceTime on the weekends and meet up during holiday breaks!” The girl in glasses happily said. 

“B-But…w-what if we don’t k-keep in t-t-touch? O-Or we g-get in a-a f-fight through text a-and we d-don’t talk to e-each other f-f-for months?!” The blue cladded teenager exclaimed in exasperation and desperation, holding her friend’s hand in her’s as she tried to calm herself down.

The brown eyed girl squeezed her friend’s hand comfortingly, her eyes softening, “…It seems like your less worried about school…and more worried about…'losing us…'”

Riley just quietly sniffled, looking away in embarrassment. 

“Ri…you aren’t going to 'lose us'. We legit aren’t going anywhere.” Grace explained thoroughly. 

“But…B-But what if y-you f-f-find someone…better?” The blue eyed girl probed. 

“…Better?” Her two friend’s questioned. 

“Like…me but…better.” The taller inquired. 

“I can’t promise that we won’t…make friends at our new school…but I can promise there will be no person at that place that can replace you. Heck, no one on this Earth can replace you even if they tried. And you wanna know why?” Grace grinned as she squished other’s hand a bit harder.

Riley smiled slightly at the action, squeezing back, “Pff…why?”

“Because you’re Riley freaking Anderson! AWOOGA!!!” The green and purple cladded girl’s both shouted, causing the other to laugh her tears away as she wiped her eyes, “G-Guys…that was so. damn. cringy. PLEASE never do that again…”

“Alas, it is what we do best.” The hazelnut eyed girl said as she dramatically lied down on the bed, “And speaking of which…I think you need some cheering up Ri-Pie…you still look down in the dumps.” And with that, Grace got up and pinned Riley’s wrists to the bed with one hand as the other wiggled teasingly.

The blondie audibly gulped, a small, nervous smile spreading to her features as she blushed slightly. 

The brunette giggled at the sight, putting her hand’s around her mouth to make her own voice seem like it was coming out of a megaphone, “Houston! Houston, we haaaaave a problem! It seems like Ri-Ri needs some tickle tickle tickles~!” 

“SHUHUT. UHUP—”

“And it seems like she’s insulting me, ladies and gentlefolks…! How unfortunate…” The girl in glasses hummed as she sat where the taller’s head was, using her arms and pinning them up so Grace could tickle her freely, “And to think we could’ve gone easy on you…”

The girl beneath squeaked loudly, hiding her face in her arms, “Guhuhuys w-wahahait! Stahop!!” 

“But we haven’t even done anything!” Grace said innocently as she dug her fingers into the blue eyed teenager’s hips, “See? Not doing anything.” 

“BAHAH— hic! NO!” The tallest one of the three squeaked, tugging on her arms but because of her purple cladded friend’s hands…she wasn’t able to go anywhere.

“BREEHEE! LEHET hic l-leHET GOhoh ahahand squeak— GRAHAHACE!! STAHAHOP!!” The blondie said as she kicked her feet wildly on the mattress, “STAHAP IT NOHOHOW!!”

The teen in purple rolled her eyes fondly, “I mean we cooooould…but you need to tell us what to stop doing.”

“YOHOU. KNOHOW!” The tallest of the three shouted. 

“Hmmmmm…do I~?” 

“Y-YEHEHES!!”

“I dunno~! I don’t think I do~!” 

“YEHES. YOU. DO!”

“I don’t, actually…” The brunette inquired, letting go of the other’s arms and digging her hands into her underarms whilst kneading her ribs. 

Talk about double kill! 

The blue iris eyed kid arched her back momentarily, hugging her middles as she belly laughed loudly, “GYAHAH— hic! NOHOH! NOT THERE! NONONOHOH— squeal! PLAHAHEASE!!” 

“You’re a huge walking tickle spot, huh, Rile?” Grace snorted as she scribbled the blonde’s sides. “SHUHUHUT YOHOHOUR MOHOUTH!!!”

“Nah…we’re good.” The two tickler’s said sassily, giggling with each other as they said the exact same thing at the exact same time. 

Great mind think alike! 

“GEHET. OFF!” Cried the blonde, happy tears springing up in her eyes, her irises shooting out of their sockets as Grace unpredictably blew a raspberry on her stomach. 

A warning would have been nice…

“NAHAHAHAH!! GRAH— hic! GRAHAHACE!?”

“Yeeeeees?” The charcoal haired teen said innocently as Bree started to tickle Riley’s neck mercilessly. 

“OKAHAHAY!! OKAHAY!” The baby blue eyed teen screamed,  “AHALRIHIHIGHT AHAHALRIHIGHT! IHI SURRENDER!!!” 

“But we didn’t even get to your favorite spoooooot~!” The black haired teenager smirked, poking the blondie’s foot. “AHAHUGH!! NOHO! I-IHI hic DOHOHON’T HAHAVE hic hic OHONE!!!”

“Oh yeah…that’s right…you have four.” The hazelnut eyed kid taunted lightly, blowing more raspberries on Riley’s stomach as she squeezed her sides. “GRAHAHACE— hic hic NOHO PLEHEHEASE—” The taller squealed, happy tears rolling down her face as the purple cladded one of the three wiggled her fingers over the blondie’s ribs and neck.

“GUHUHUYS— SQUEAK!! IHI’M GOHOHONNA DIE!!!”

“Then. perish.” Bree said simply, tickling Riley’s neck and ribs as the tallest of the group went absolutely mad with laughter. “As I said, no one can replace you, Ri…seriously…I don’t think I met anyone who’s laughed this loud…” The girl in glasses giggled. 

“Agreed…we’ll keep in touch, go to resturants and it’ll be perfectly perfect…ish. It won’t be the same like last year but we’ll just learn to adjust—“

“IHIHI GEHET IHAT!!!” Riley screamed, her cackles dying down as her best friend’s lied down next to her; Grace on her left whilst Bree was on her right. 

“Promise?” Grace asked once more.

“Prohohomise…” The blonde snorted, wiping her eyes as she playfully glared at her best friends, “Don’t think for a second you guys are off the hook…sleep with one eye open…”

“Will do.” Bree yawned, stretching as she quietly went to sleep, Grace soon following as her eyes closed and drifted to slumber.

Riley smiled fondly at her friend’s…

…Her best friends…

Riley might not go to the same school as them anymore…but that didn’t matter.

The distance that was going to be between her and them would be…strong.

But their love and appreciation for one another was stronger…

And no damn distance would change that…

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[rowanisawriter]

mirror image

rook/neve/lucanis - recognition of a crush through the other - 3k words

.

“Earlier,” she says. “In the alley. Were you watching him fight?”

Lucanis nods. Takes a seat at the table one chair away. Keeping his distance. “I find it difficult to watch sometimes. He is wild. Reckless and dangerous.”

“And never heeding any advice to be careful.”

“I have offered to share some training. But he declines. I think he likes the danger.”

“He would.” The words slip out of her mouth, loosened by the comforting heat of the tea. She looks at Lucanis quickly. But he’s nodding. Agreeing with her overly familiar statement. On his face she sees her own exasperation reflected at her. Neither of them know what to do with this. This worry.

[anonao3author]

untitled fic, ch 1 - i've done a lotta things

—

"We know what you did." Superman loomed over Red Hood, every word a booming threat that if he didn't cooperate, it'd be more than his helmet smashed to pieces.

"I've done a lotta things," Red Hood said. "Ya gotta be more specific."

—

"I'm almost there, Roy, there's no need to get pissy." Jason flipped off the old woman he just passed, the one who'd been doing twenty under the speed limit since Pike Ave.

On the other end of the phone, Roy sighed. "I know, Jay-" Jason adjusted the phone, speeding up on his bike- "-worry about you. Bikers get in three times more accidents than cars. Three times!"

"Maybe 'cause their boyfriends won't stop nagging them while they're tryna-" he swerved around a pedestrian who should not have been crossing there, holy f- "-drive!"

—

His reintegration into the Batfamily had been... a little rocky, mainly on account of the whole "trying to kill Tim thing", which he would admit was definitely his fault.

—

Getting to hang out with Damian again was a plus, too. He'd met the little shit in the LOA, and they actually hit it off pretty well, in his opinion. Given, he had no idea what an actual sibling relationship was supposed to be like, but stabbing was probably normal.

All in all, the Wayne's, being one of them? It wasn't that bad.

—

It had seemed impossible, for a while.

He was finally getting his life back together.

He stepped out onto the road.

Someone stopped him.

He looked up, and was greeted with an (unfortunately) familiar face. Oliver Queen, Green Arrow, Roy's father. He was in his full Emerald Archer get-up, little green booties and all.

—

Hal slammed his hands down on the table, leaning towards Red Hood. "What do you need the money for, Hood?" He growled.

"Raising children isn't cheap, dickshit, have you seen the price of fucking sheet metal these days?"

"What does... what does sheet metal have to do with raising kids?" Clark asked, puzzled.

"My son is a picky eater."

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Decided to try my hand at the "Batfamily meets the Justice League" trope, filled to the brim with my own headcanons and favourite dynamics. This fic is entirely self indulgent, but I'm gonna post it anyways because I'm so bored.

If you liked these snippets, you will probably like the fic (or at least the first chapter). I tried to pick out the funniest bits of the 4k ish words I wrote.

First chapter will hopefully be posted before January next year