#i love getting side tracked I love first drafts when I just get to write whatever

[aingeal98]

My brain: OK so this is a massive fantasy country which means there are different dialects so a girl from the capital city in the east wouldn't have the same words for mother and siblings as a small town in the west.

Me: Girl the plot.

My brain: And then your main character is bilingual and we'll have one of the languages be similar to English so that the readers aren't completely lost but he's also from a different country and has only lived in the west of this one so he'd be confused at first when someone spoke eastern dialect because he knows three languages but this isn't one of them.

Me: GIRL THE PLOT HE'S LITERALLY GETTING PUNCHED IN THE FACE RIGHT NOW.

[hamsternella]

maybe headcanons of Bill Cipher being obsessed with us for being Ford's wife, but at first he feels jealous and gradually that changes as he finds we have equal things (e.g. we are blind, and that makes Bill start to want to get more intimate with us as he has with Ford because he finds that we have also been despised/put aside because of that difference), and maybe he wants to make a deal with us but we refuse out of loyalty to Ford and that makes Bill jealous- but now of Ford, not of us lmao sorry if that is confusing or too specific.

Are you going to write any Gravity Falls fanfic on the side? I've seen your poll and I'm very excited

HELLO, and no problem. Here it is, I hope you like it.

As for the fanfic, I do plan to write one. Actually, it's in drafts; I just need to correct what I have written. I don't know if I should make it long or cut it and put it in chapters.

PART TWO

Bill Cipher being obsessed with you [headcanon]

cw: fem!reader, non-con touching, possessed body, jealousy, maybe a bit of ooc(?

The reason Bill begins to feel his plan is threatened is because of you. As much as Ford has him on a pedestal, you are still the main reason for his early accomplishments. The special person who has been with him since his college discovery years.

You're not like McGucket; your judgment carries paramount weight in Ford's most decisive decisions. You're not a mentally dazzling woman, not like him, but your claws keep you firmly entrenched behind Sixer's back. Bill repudiates that—it makes no sense at all!

As if that weren't enough, the affair culminates with you being blind. Can there be anything much more repugnant than a romance fueled by misfortune? Ford is drawn to your sincere heart, and you support him unconditionally because beyond your husband's obsession, your love for him seems to break down the most terrifying walls. And how can you be afraid of something you can no longer see?

Bill feels he has the enemy breathing behind his back. For the first time he thinks he can't solve everything with a kick to the rock in the middle of the road.

The closest thing to a tantrum you get from him —unknowingly— are regular nightmares, a weak body and constant paranoia about unfamiliar sounds and sensations. Your home is suddenly a new world; frightening and strange. Because of this you become clumsy and unpredictable, and even your husband doesn't understand what it is that has you so off track.

Bill can't use his influence on your reality at all, but through Ford and other extensions, as well as fine print manipulations, he manages to reach you without arousing suspicion.

''I've told you many times, Bill,'' sighed Ford with his back turned, both hands placed on his journal. ''I don't think I can go through with this completely until I manage to find a way to help my wife.''

''Isn't this a sign that it's time to get her out of your way?''

"Excuse me?’’ The man turned his attention to the demon; his eyes laden with bitterness and desolation. ''What do you mean by that? I can't abandon my wife, Cipher—she would never do something like that to me.''

''Well,'' Bill chuckled, ''it's not like she's really done anything for you all this time. This project is our thing, Fordsy, and it shouldn't be interrupted by a little stumble that doesn't even belong to us. Or are you going to give up everything you've sacrificed for this?''

''You have understood me like no other, Bill; I admit that there is no person or creature existing on this planet who can do all that you have done for me,'' admitted Ford solemnly. ''But she's my wife—she's been around even before you, when I was nobody. When I had nothing. And even when I came to Gravity Falls and left everything behind she was always there. Bill, I... I can't, I'm sorry.''

Bill held back another complaint, beginning to notice that things were not working out the way he had wanted. Your clumsiness didn't kill Ford's patience or control, but what little sanity —if any— there was in him. It was humiliating; Bill Cipher losing to a human being, a random woman—blind, to make it worse.

The demon was beginning to withdraw in on himself, frustration rising to anger, when Ford's voice from the entrance to the room drew his gaze back. There was a different gleam in his companion's, and Cipher understood with annoyance where the conversation would end up now.

Your husband introduces you to the possible solution to all your problems: Mr. Cipher, a doctor and close friend of Stanford. A mysterious man with a booming voice that makes your hair stand on end, but at the end of the day a man of studies and degrees. Of course you were going to trust your husband's recommendation.

''What a coincidence that you happened to be passing by, sir! Thank you for offering to help me. That's very kind of you.''

Bill starts pretending to be your personal doctor in search of a miracle solution to your problems. It's not hard to avoid contact with you to hide the truth; Ford tries hard to keep the situation straight.

If the demon hated you before, now you better start praying.

Cipher understands that he needs to play along with Ford if he wants the project to stay on track, even if that means starting to help you heal while containing his desire to get rid of you.

Maybe if he possessed Stanford and took advantage of you during your naps.

Maybe.

But he knows better than that—Ford isn't stupid. Not stupid enough, at least.

It was humiliating to have to take care of what he himself had caused, but it's not as if Bill could afford any other way to get back on the project. Ford was all he had. Where was he going to get someone else capable enough? This had been fate; interrupted at the last minute by the appearance of a bad third. This was all your fault. Blind little rat—woman busybody with a sweet smile and giggly voice. Cipher understood why Sixer was where he was with you, on the one hand. On the other it was all the same: a whim that cost dearly. Who needed someone like you? What was the benefit? Sex, maybe? But Bill Cipher was a thousand times better than something so banal! Please…

Bill rolled his eye, snapping his fingers to undo the nightmare you were in. As soon as your dream was undone you let out an exclamation of surprise, jumping on the bed. You brought a hand to your face, feeling the sweat, and almost immediately moved your body to where he lay. Cipher held back surprise, finding himself genuinely intrigued.

''Doctor,'' you whispered hoarsely, ''good afternoon. I... Forgive me, I think I fell asleep—it was sudden, I don't know what came over me...''

''Did you know it was me here with you?''

The smile you gave him threw him off. A ''Well, yes, isn't it very obvious?'' kind of grimace.

''Does your husband know that you have these nightmares during our therapies?''

'Therapies' sounded fancy, but it was shorthand for the tortures Bill forced you to go through; a theater of supposed recovery to cover up his need to hurt you.

“He doesn't know, doctor. I haven't told him, if I'm honest,'' you replied. ''Please don't tell him anything.''

''It would be unethical!''

‘’Pretending to be a doctor is also unethical, sir,’’ you laughed. ''I am blind, not stupid.’’

Killing you was going to be the only solution to all of this—although from that day on nothing else ever happened.

Bill has to accept that you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. You're not just any woman anymore; being Ford's wife had to have been warning enough for him.

You continue to not remind him of his charade and allow him to continue 'treating' you, while your husband resumes the plans for the portal.

Surprisingly, Bill seems to have found interest in something much more striking.

You.

The nightmares subside, your mood and judgment improve, and Cipher finds a strange pleasure in this new side of you: much more alert, more talkative and wittier. You have your charm.

But it's your husband who pulls the reins. Bill gets it right away.

Evenings with you aren't exactly revelatory like they are with Ford, who always has enough data and information to surprise everyone with. With you it's different; it's something much more intimate and almost forgotten by Bill. He knows so much that it would be impossible to be taken by surprise—but you manage to do it.

He is overcome with a nostalgic and unpleasant feeling, but which ironically keeps him alive as he decides to lie to Ford.

Bill doesn't want to let you go. It's strange. Maybe he got used to another glaring presence besides Sixer? Torturing you a little more in silence to keep you under his care should not be a stupid thing to do at all.

Cipher encounters another particular feeling: curiosity. He needs to know why you know what you know; and what it is, above all else, that keeps you here.

What keeps you with so much power over him, Bill Cipher.

''Are you saying that I have tricks up my sleeve? I don't get it, doctor...''

''Oh! Oh, please,'' Bill interrupted, thunderous laughter bouncing across the room. ''You know I'm no doctor; the title is ridiculous.''

''Should I call you 'Mr. Cipher' instead?''

Bill held back a sigh, rubbing his eye for a moment before orbiting around you. If you had noticed, you didn't say or do anything. Your eyes, white as opaque pearls, remained fixed on a corner of the room.

''Since when did you know I wasn't a doctor? No, better yet, since when did you know I wasn't human?''

''Well, it's not quite like that either,'' you replied under a soft laugh. ''You just revealed to me that you are not human. As for the doctor thing... Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think that dream therapies and transverse snoring with citrus scent induction while dipping my feet in spoiled milk is something a professional would recommend.''

Bill pretended not to be offended.

''Besides that,'' you continued, ''I know my husband very well. I know that he hides dangerous things down there, where I cannot reach by myself, just as I know everything that has been happening is not the product of chance.''

''Did you know all this time that your nightmares and fears have been my doing?''

‘’No, not really. You just confessed it to me.''

‘’Oh, come on!’’ Bill shook his fists in the air, abruptly remembering that you couldn't see him. It was strange, you seemed to know the world you inhabited even though your eyes wouldn't let you. The thought made the demon orbit around you again, returning in front of you. Opaque pearls; gaze lost in the open. "I've had a majestic revelation at this very moment! Do you want to hear it, or will your big, bold woman brain let you know in advance what I have to say?”

"I have a slight feeling you don't like me.”

“Yes or no!”

“Of course, tell me.”

"I have to assume you weren't born blind; this must be the product of an accident," Cipher began to say. "That would explain why the hell you do everything you do, and why the fuck you know where I am.”

"That's right, Mr. Cipher," you nodded. "I've had an accident, though I suppose you know that because you've infiltrated me. Either that, or my husband told you.”

"So you did know that I'm a demon?”

“You just—”

“Oh, shut up! Don't fucking say it again.”

Your coexistence with Bill becomes pleasant, despite the early revelation of his nature and his having been the cause of your misfortunes.

Cipher comes to believe that he may have been wrong; maybe you were stupid after all.

But that would be crazy! Unlike with Ford, with you the feelings are extremely nostalgic and warm. There is no trace of some kind of farce or genuine morbid interest behind your words. You believe everything you say.

Bill, who despite not sleeping or dreaming, being haunted by the memory of screams and an old distorted and flat reality, finds in your company a comfort zone that makes him delirious.

Sadly, your heart and your judgment is still tied to Sixer—as if that brainiac cared at all!

Bill begins to drive Ford crazy; he feeds him extensive knowledge, possesses him more often to enjoy the benefits, and then alters his memories, making it difficult for him to know what is truth and what is a lie.

Where he can no longer meet your needs, Bill is always there to dazzle you.

You jumped in your seat, feeling your husband's warm hands wrap around your neck. Fingers, rough from machines and dust, caressed your skin awkwardly, drawing a chuckle from you. His breath came to you from above, as if he had just sighed in delight at your reaction. When you felt him rest his hands on your shoulders, you slowly brought one of yours to caress the back of his. You felt him tremble.

''I thought you were sleeping?'' you asked with genuine interest. ''Is everything all right? All these days you've been doing the same thing.''

''Do you mind, beautiful?''

You stifled a laugh.

''No, Ford, your company would never be a bother to me... Are you smelling my hair?''

‘’I just can’t get enough of you.’’

You felt him circle your body, delineating one of the chairs near you so he could relax his body in it. You didn't last long without his hands—as soon as he resumed his seat, you felt his fingers intertwining with yours. This time it was more consistent and comfortable; not like all those days where it seemed like your husband had forgotten how to use his own body.

''Oh, dear! Seeing you with these two orbs of nerves and membrane is amazing! You look even more dazzling.''

Although the comments without any context or sense were still there.

''I'm not that great,'' you said with a small laugh. A little shy. Ford didn't used to give you so many compliments. “How's your project going?’’

‘’That thing? Good, very good. Excellent, my dear! Maybe you could see for yourself—oh, well, you can't,'' he guffawed. ''Right. Whatever! Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?''

‘’Y-Yeah, sure, honey.’’ You cleared your throat. ‘’What’s the matter?’’

''Hypothetical scenario. You're married, but you're not quite fulfilled. Suppose someone comes along who is much better than your husband,'' he explained. ''He's smart, funny, multifunctional, powerful, extra-dimensional, or very soon will be, and also very stylish!'' Silence. Moments later an exclamation. ''Do you have a favorite color? His favorite color is yellow!''

‘’I… I mean, sorry, but I actually don’t understand at all where’s the question.’’

‘’Don’t be silly! Would you leave your husband for this entity—excuse me, for this person?''

‘’What?’’

‘’The heck.’’

Another booming laugh, and though you tried to accompany it with your own, the sound that came from you was choppy and awkward. This exchange was strange.

''I can't find a reason to leave my husband for this so-called mystery person,'' you replied. ''I am supposed to have married him for a reason which should be more than enough. Ford,'' you rushed on, ''is this regarding Mr. Cipher?''

''Why?'' he asked at once. ''Why do you think of him all of a sudden? Do you feel something forbidden about him in this marriage?''

''But of course not!''

''What do you mean ‘no’?!’’

His hands let go of yours. The chair in front of you seemed to be dragged, the wood against the floor squeaking with the sudden friction. The movement had taken you by surprise.

‘’Ford?’’

''Why are you so happy? Why, huh?'' he sighed, frustrated. ''Haven't I abandoned you every night in a freezing bed, while I prefer the company of machines? Cipher has been very kind to you and kept you company!''

''Ford, what are you—wait. Wait a moment... Bill, is this you?'' You covered your mouth, terrified at the discovery. Your companion didn't respond and you simply let out a shaky breath. ''Are you possessing my husband?’’

‘’Damn, that was fast.’’

‘’That’s awful!’’

"There was full consent!" added Bill with a chuckle. "This is a man-to-man thing, my pretty little fleshbag. Something between colleagues, plain and simple. You needn't fear—Bill Cipher is taking care of everything.”

"But it's horrendous anyway!" you exclaimed with your voice splitting. "It all makes sense now... The words, the touches, the way you acted—it was all a sham! You were using my husband!”

"Oh, please, little one. Wasn't it you who dreamed of being able to touch me?”

"You, not a substitute class using Stanford's body! Have you two been doing these kinds of exchanges all along?”

"It's just that there was a change of plans!”

“A change? What—”

“I mean, I tried to kill you; but it's not that easy now,” he laughed.

You tried to calm your breathing. Your heart was beating painfully against your chest, and your whole body was trembling. This wasn't right, obviously. It was like a vivid nightmare.

“Not that I want to do it, of course.”

“Why?” you asked after a long silence.

You felt the presence of your husband's body very close to you. A pair of hands rested on your cheeks, caressing them with his fingers very softly; the touches getting lost under the trembling of your figure when you heard again a sigh of delight. Something was up.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think we could make a deal. A little, pretty one, and just for you.”

“A deal? A deal with a demon, you mean. No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on! It will be fun!”

“And it makes no sense.”

Bill turned away from you, returning to his chair to take a seat across from your body.

"What exactly is it that Ford gives you that I can't manage to satisfy? Because very soon the little project will be complete, and I will have full disposal of many wonderful tricks to take care of you, my dear," he continued. "An eternity together! We'll be able to create and tell thousands of new stories; to travel across the world and let you experience hundreds of new sensations. We'll be unstoppable! Incomparable!”

"That's not the way things work, Bill…”

"Things work because of the strongest. I will soon be the only one with that title.”

"What will happen to Ford?" you asked haltingly. "What will you do to my husband?”

"He's my co-worker, dear.”

"You're hiding something from me.”

"So what if it is? He doesn't matter here! It's our time... You're mine.”

The way your husband's voice was beginning to distort sent a shiver through your body. You loved Ford—you missed him. The idea that you had been kissing the lips of a man possessed a couple of days ago was turning your stomach. Your silence seemed to feed something inside the demon; his voice thundered, totally changed, across the room.

"A few weeks ago you said you missed the stars," added Bill. "The last time you saw them was when you were a teenager. I miss the stars too—the ones I saw with a different eye. It's not the same anymore. Nothing is, since..." Silence. You didn't dare interrupt the creature who seemed to be drowning in bitter memory. It took him a while to pull himself together; a split laugh piercing your ears like an arrow. "Oh, the misery! I thought it repulsive the way you two looked so united over something so pathetic. Anyway, what does the past matter now, what does misery matter! There's no such thing being with Bill Cipher. You'll want for nothing.”

"I refuse, Bill.”

"And I refuse too," he laughed. "See? We can play the same game, silly. I don't recommend testing my patience, though.”

The touch of palms against the warm skin of your neck took you by surprise. The roughness of those fingers you loved so much were now forbidding you to breathe; the softness of moist lips pressing against yours, taking advantage of the way you parted yours to find a sliver of air. You soon struggled against your husband's body, desperate to deny the foreign tongue that flicked unseemly and inexperienced inside you. Bill was drowning in an unfamiliar feeling that felt too good. You were soft, fragile. Your flesh was tender and warm, quivering like an animal about to die—he was going to devour it to the bone. Was this what Ford had been doing with you? You liked it?

He could kill you. He could end your life when the portal was complete; he could take advantage of Ford, as he had been doing all this time, and keep the prize all to himself. Why was it so hard? What was it you had done to him? Was Ford a victim too? The thought burned like a fierce fury at the back of his mind—jealousy once again. The need to own even the crumbs. Ford wouldn't have the right to be your victim anymore. This feeling was too good for that brainiac to understand, surely he never did.

But Bill understood everything. He was incomparable. He could dominate your life and hold the reins as well as Ford had been doing. No. Cipher was going to do better! Did you miss your husband's domination? Bill would be your ruler; he would destroy obstacles and build better ones to keep you in check. Maybe a little training and you'd become a beautiful little bag of flesh and muscle—tight, warm and obedient. And who knows if you'd end up exceeding his expectations! Who knows if a little gift occupying your orbs would give you the chance to enjoy the same star-studded sky together.

"Don't think too much," whispered Bill pantingly. "There's plenty of other things to do than something as dull as that. Don't worry your pretty little head.”

You shook your head, surrendered to crying. Your husband's hands had left your neck, but now they wrapped around your wet cheeks, offering shy caresses.

"From now on you're going to use it when I say so. Everything will be that way, and you know why?”

A crooked laugh vibrated against his chest, reaching you through his hands.

"Because now you will be my new pet. A special one! The best of them all… You could say ‘muse’, even. Isn't that beautiful, dear?”

A cold kiss. The last one.

“Aren't you, above all, beautiful too?”

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creation and Love’s Manifestation (Dr ratio x reader)- Chapter 4: Late Appraisal

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143 @tseleven @rains-mae @comet-kun @thatanimewriter @lowlucifer @snailsposts @earthtooz @delightfuldragoncollection @soobinsgirlfriend @lvfel

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Masterlist

A/N: You can probably tell I’m pretty tired by the writing + shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something out. The original draft was longer but I wasn’t happy with the later half, so I thought I would just for with a smaller chapter this time and keep working at the later half for a better finished produce. This mainly serves as a transitional chapter anyway, with more action expected in the next one.

You know that stereotype where fanfic authors literally go through the craziest shit when they’re writing? Well the last few weeks I won my first trial as a law student, got a few good resolution for other clients all at once, ans started getting closer with my crush. So… I’ve been pretty busy as you can see lol. I have a term break in a few weeks, which is likely when the next chapter will come out, and where I will try to pre-write another chapter or two. Thank you all for being patient with the delay!

Chapter 4: Late Appraisal (3.8k+ words)

“I just don’t understand how this even happened!” you watched the short white-haired man pace around Herta’s office, his forehead crinkled in concentration and mouth twisted into a worried frown. You felt your head pulse with each of his footsteps, thumping in beat with the heavy taps of his feet on the tile floor, the ache getting worse with each motion he made. Aeons, you wish they never found you napping in the Seclusion Zone. At least then you could’ve dealt with your hangover in peace and quiet, “How could multiple researchers and a Herta puppet all go missing in one afternoon? Especially with our upgraded security! It just makes no sense.”

“If you let me go look at the security system, I could tell you,” you deadpanned, eyes trailing over to the office door briefly, as if contemplating some way to escape, before flickering back to your boss, “I don’t even get why you called me here, aren’t we wasting time with this meeting when we could be trying to fix things?”

“Wasting time?” Arlan rebutted, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, giving you little hope of making your escape from the office, “You know what’s a waste of time? Trying to track you down just to find out you were passed out drunk in the Seclusion Zone! Do you know how much time we wasted just trying to find you?”

“It was literally my day off, Arlan,” you huffed in reply, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms over your chest, “I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time. Not anymore at least.” You let the implication of the words hang in the air, something that didn’t go over well with your usually mellow boss, who seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. But hey, if he was gonna push your buttons, you weren’t just gonna sit there and take it. 

“We’re in an emergency, Y/N!” he practically shouted at you, “It doesn’t matter if it's your day off! What would’ve you done if it was your day off when the Legion attacked? Stayed in your room and brushed it off?” You felt your body stiffen at his words, arms moving from their crossed state to hang loosely at your sides. You hated this; when you argued, when he used his knowledge of you and what would set you off for his own advantage. It was almost downright cruel. 

“Don’t talk about the Legion attack,” your reply was quick, emotionless as if you were trying to avoid thinking of it yourself, “You know that’s different. A lot different.” At this point, you were willing to run out of the Herta’s Office, meeting be damned. The ache in your head paused for a moment replaced by a dull pain in your chest, mind swirling with thoughts you’d rather forget. You were almost afraid of how you appeared to your boss right now. 

You watched Arlan’s eyes for the shift in emotion, hoping, praying that he was able to see where you were coming from. You saw it for a moment, like a flicker of hope burning within his purple orbs, before he blinked, sending the sympathy away from wherever it came from, “Is it though? For all we know, all of those researchers are dead! Adler could be dead!” You clenched your fist at the mention of the boy, the pounding in your head seeming to grow again. 

“I get it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “Which is why I wanna look at the security system to see how this happened! But instead were here arguing about stupid shit that doesn’t matter right now!” You watched as he began to pace around Herta’s office again, Herta’s holographic image of herself staring at the both of you, along with the other genius society portraits, as if they all were looking down on this conversation too. You couldn’t blame them. 

“You know why were having this conversation,” Arlan was quieter now, but still stern, “We needed you, and you there was no way to contact you!” He let out a shaky sigh before talking again, “We even started to think you were taken too!” You took a deep breath, attempting to let the anger inside of you simmer down at the genuine tone of his voice. 

“I already know that,” you sighed, “ Screwllum told me it all when he came to wake me up,” you raised an eyebrow, “You should’ve asked him sooner, I mean,” you tugged on your button-down shirt, holding back a wince at how the sudden action made your head pound harder, “You already know our relationship. If anyone knew where I was, it would be him” You released the shirt, begrudgingly moving a hand to hold your head now, unable to pretend that you didn’t feel like shit any longer. Arlan looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read; disgust? Pity? You’d honestly rather not know. 

“How much did you drink yesterday?” Arlan asked you, pausing his pacing again to change the subject, his expression still holding anger, but voice quiet, as if he was preparing to hear bad news. You thought about putting up a fuss for a moment, but sighed, preparing yourself to relent on this point, as if the alcohol was holding you back from hiding the extent of your poor state. 

“A bottle of wine,” you said simply, crossing your arms across your chest again. You almost looked stupid, standing in the office in your sweatpants and Screwllum’s shirt, confessing your problems, while Arlan stared back at you in proper uniform, leaving the power imbalance between you two evident visually and audibly,  “And a bit of Vodka,” you left the part about the vodka being in your water bottle unspoken, not prepared to deal his rant on that topic that the two of you had gone through hundreds of times before, though the pitying look on his face told you that he already knew.

“You really have to stop this,” Arlan said, voice losing the anger now, holding nothing but pity. Honestly, you preferred him angry. When Arlan became sentimental and looked at you like you were a lost cause or some sort of fuck up, for some reason nothing in the world felt worse. You didn’t know what it was; the way his lips curved into a frown like no other he ever displayed, or how his big eyes became downturned, a flicker of pain etched onto them and the rest of his features, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you stared into his pitying eyes, hand from your head moving back to your side as you forced both your features and stance into neutrality as if that would fight off the emotions that threatened to spill from you.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said firmly, though not unkindly, “You know what I think about your drinking… what Asta thinks,” he let that name hang in the air for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine that made you wince, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. Arlan sighed, the sternness from before fading away into his usual kind demeanour, “You know I can’t control what you do; you’re an adult. But when your drinking gets in the way of your job; when you pass out somewhere where we can’t find you when we need you, thats when it becomes an issue.”

“Arlan,” you spoke his name, whether in warning for him to stop, or in frustration at the change in track of conversation, you couldn’t say.

“You know the Station is vulnerable after the attack… you know it better than anyone,” he said softly, “So we need you to be at 100% all the time… I know I already extended your hours after the whole incident from a few days ago,” you gritted your teeth at the previous punishment you had received due to your actions on the night that the stupid alcaster face bastard arrived, “but I don’t think that’s enough for what we need from you right now.”

“What are you suggesting?” you huffed, tapping a finger against your thigh impatiently. It clearly wasn’t the first time you received punishment and definitely wouldn’t be the last. At least that was something familiar in your life, you mused - at least something in your life could follow a steady routine. 

“... You can’t drink any alcohol for the rest of the month,” he said firmly, quickly speaking again when he saw you open your mouth in protest, “Okay, maybe not the month… but at least until we get the researchers back and solve the confidence issues… I need you sober right now, Y/N.”

“You know its not that easy to just… stop,” you muttered, eyes moving to look at your feet. Even now, early in the morning, probably a bit over 12 hours from your last drink, you felt jittery, like you needed something to quell your nerves. Without the alcohol, and even with the pounding head, things were too… vivid, real. It was overwhelming to experience the sensations in the world how they were meant to be seen without the dull drag of a foggy blanket taking over your mind. How were you supposed to go a few days like this? 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching your glance as you looked back at him, “I don’t have a choice right now… let's talk more later, go, try to figure out why the security system went down last night.”

You opened your mouth, as if to respond, but allowed it to close again, turning your back to the man, “Whatever… talk to you later… Brother Arlan,” you left Herta’s office before he could respond to your use of his common teasing nickname around the station, not being in the mood to deal with another yelling match today. You unceremoniously slam the door behind you before you practically drag your body towards the elevator. Around you, you could hear the panicked gossip of various researchers, a sound that did nothing to calm the pounded headache that continued to make every movement a hassle. Part of you thought about talking to them - telling them that everything was under control. 

The other part of you recognized that you probably looked like a hot mess right now, and didn’t bother. They already didn’t trust you anyway - you weren’t stupid. If anything, approaching them would probably make things worse than it already was. So, you dragged your body down the stairs, onto the main floor of the master control zone and to the elevator, fully intent on not acknowledging anyone’s existence. 

It was only the sniffles of one specific person that made you do a double-take before you could press the button to call the elevator. Wen Shiling was a few feet behind you, trying to hide her sobs in her sleeve, but failing to do so, her small body physically shaking, evident even from your distance away from her. It was times like these when you wondered how children were even allowed to be researchers on this Station in the first place - it made you wonder how they could handle the stress that even you struggled to deal with. You paused, mind flickering between Wen Shiling and the elevator, sighing when you ultimately decided on the former, trudging your quiet body towards hers.

“Wen Shiling?” you spoke softly, bending down to be closer to her height, the action paining your head. Honestly, with your hangover and usual tone of conversation, you really had no idea how to approach comforting her… or anyone really, “What’s wrong sweetie, are you okay?” you hesitated before reaching a hand out, touching her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes seemed to water as she took in your form, a long sob escaping her lips. She looked from your hand to you, as if contemplated whether she wanted to move away, though she kept herself firmly planted in place. 

“No, I’m mad!” she cried, wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve. She offered you know no other words, too focused on stifling her sobs, which were still obnoxiously loud. You resisted the urge to cover your ears to block out the noise despite her cries doing nothing to soothe your headache. You gently rubbed your hand up and down her back, hoping that it offered some form of comfort to the girl. 

Though she wasn’t clear about the source of her anger, it was clear enough to guess, “You don’t have to worry about Adler, we’ll definitely bring him back soon.” Of course you left out the part where you had no idea where the little boy was or if he was even alive… but you really didn’t want to get into discussing the philosophy of life and death with a eight year old. Your mind flickered to Adler’s stupid book you had borrowed, the one you hadn’t cracked open since the night your… enjoyable evening with Screwllum was interrupted by the damned doctor you had been forced to accommodate. What if you never saw him again… what if he never got to talk to you about the book? You internally shook your head, focusing again on Wen Shiling in front of you. Aeons, if only you could have a drink to take the edge off…

“I don’t want him back… he’s stupid!” she sobbed again. You tried not to cringe at the snot covering the sleeves of her dress, forcing yourself to focus on her words, “He doesn’t talk to me and then disappears…! I don’t even want him here!”

“I’m sure he was just busy,” you attempt to soothe the girl, cursing the Aeons for failing to give you skills in soothing children. Deciding your ability to comfort children was lacking, you decided to only logically thing you could do was change your tone to match your usual personality, “You know, once we get him back I’m sure he’ll be sorry for how he treated you. That’ll serve him right, huh?.”

“He’ll be sorry?” she echoed your words, blinking dumbly up at you. You nodded in encouragement, hoping that you finally found some method to calm her crying. You forced yourself to plaster the a smile on your face, as if everything was fine and you weren’t currently feeling like death from a hangover and dealing with the aftermath of another invasion and your alcohol problem all at the same time. 

“Of course! Im sure we can even make him take an afternoon off his stupid ecology research,” you said with smirk, happy to at least let your genuine thoughts shine through for a moment before the inevitable hours of seriousness ahead, “I heard he’s horrible at board games, we could force him to play one beat him to a pulp.”

Wen Shiling smiled a bit, though her frown returned soon after, “Big sis… Can I ask you something? But you have to tell me the truth.”

Feeling like you were getting the farthest using your typical personality, you let your genuine thoughts ring through in your answer “Sure, I’m not a liar,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, “what’s up?”

“…” she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you really think Adler is okay? … You think we’ll find him?” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her big brown tearful eyes and the snotty sleeves on her dress, an expression mixed with hopefulness and worry plastered all over her features. You forced a confident smirk on your face, placing your hands on your hips in mock confidence.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

It wasn’t your first time lying to a kid, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 

~~~~

Your head continued to pound as the elevator descended, countless sounds filling your head. Arlan’s yelling… Wen Shiling’s crying… it all fluttered around your brain like snow, casting an endless stream of emotions on your already overwhelmed brain. Your mind drifted to your water bottle which you knew sat on your desk in your room… would Arlan even know if you took a sip from it… He couldn’t right? How would he? There was no way he could actually expect to accurately record your sobriety, you thought to yourself. No, you just had to be sneaky with it - a few sips here and there to quell your thoughts… thats all you would need… just something to take the edge off. Even the thought of the alcohol seemed to quiet your brain, like a blanket may drive off heat on a cold night. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would realize how worrisome your thoughts truly were… but right now you really didn’t care.

“When an elevator arrives at its destination, you are expected to dismount it,” you blinked back into focus at the familiar irritating voice, eyes falling on to the Doctor. Dressed in his usual clothes, though lacking his alabaster head, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were some sort of unusual specimen in his lab. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t even realized your elevator had arrived at the floor with everyone’s personal quarters, too caught up in your thoughts to notice, which left you standing blankly forward despite the door already having opened. 

“And when someone doesn’t get out, you’re expected to politely address them, not be a snarky asshole,” you shot back, forcing yourself to leave the elevator. Not ready to end the conversation, but not wanting the elevator to go away, the Doctor stepped inside, pressing the door open button.

“Your insults lack creativity when you are hung over,” he deadpanned, sighing - whether in disappointment or disgust, you didn’t know, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was looking for you, you need to come with me.”

You rose an eyebrow at the Doctor, “Uh, kinda in the middle of trying to solve a crisis right now,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it… ya know, missing researchers, faulty security system. Don’t really have time for whatever bullshit you’re up to right now.”

“You wound me,” he states, though his face shows no sign of any emotion, “Since when do I act without purpose?” He looked at you with disgust, as if he was shocked at the suggestion, “Of course I am aware of the current predicament and I wish to help you.” 

You cock an eyebrow at him, arms crossed in front of your chest, “And why would you do that exactly? What’s in it for you?” skepticism dripped from your tone, a fact that you knew was all too apparent for the Doctor, who met your gaze defiantly, “Literally all you’ve done since getting here is be a pain in the ass and then almost get me killed - your actions don’t really scream helpful.”

“I seem to recall I was helpful enough in procuring wine for you and allowing you to sleep in my presence,” he smirked cockily, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Or do actions such as those not qualify as helpful in your dictionary?”

“The only thing that helped with is getting me chewed out by my boss, so thanks for that I guess, what a help you are,” you rolled your eyes, tempted to walk away, but for some reason forcing yourself to stay put, “I don’t know what the hell was in that wine you gave me, but I swear I’m not usually that… clingy.” You thought you should say more, but chose to stay silent deciding you already made enough of a fool of yourself, “Honestly I don’t even remember most of the shit I did last night.”

“Alcohol interferes with one’s ability to form long term memories, such a fact is really not suprising,” he said matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk coating his features. You barley knew this man, but he seemed to always revel in the ability of making people feel dumb, “Luckily for you, I retained my own memory of the evening, if you wish to recall more.”

“I’d rather not learn more things Arlan can yell at me about, thanks,” you huffed, forcing the conversation back to its original topic, “So really, why do you wanna help me? What’s in it for you?”

“Many things really,” he said casually, finger still firmly pressing the open button on the elevator door, “The satisfaction of helping idiots some a simple problem, the joy of reuniting the researchers with their companions… or the pleasure of building a diplomatic relationship between the IPC and the Space Station as I was directed.”

“Should’ve known of course it was about the diplomacy,” you smirked at him, propping an arm next to the elevator door, “You clearly wouldn’t act kindly on your own accord. Got your own boss who you’re afraid will chew you out like mine?”

The Doctor’s face soured at the mention of a boss, “I’d rather not think of my acquaintances at the IPC, they are not the most fond people to be around.” The scowl on his face made you interested in learning more, but the Doctor was quick to change the subject, “I merely offered my assistance to Miss Asta and she accepted. The mere certitude that doing so will satisfy my companions is simply a bonus.”

“Whatever, I don’t care if Asta got you to help, I have my own work to do,” you brushed him off, turning to move away from the elevator. You were startled when a firm hand grasped your arm, preventing you from leaving. The Doctor’s skin was warm, radiating heat through Screwllum’s dress shirt. His touch mass you freeze in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at the Doctor. 

“I’m not asking you,” he said plainly, as if disgusted that you hadn’t picked up on that sooner, “You prescene has been requested.” You felt mesmerized for a moment by his presence, the scent of his cologne filling your nose due to your close proximity. His golden eyes seemed to bore into you, as if staring into your soul. It was the first time you really took in how… handsome he looked. Of course you had noticed before… you had eyes of course, but something about how he looked at you now seemed to awaken something within you, something you were desperate to push away, while at the same time wanting to cling on to it. 

Snapping into your senses, you yank your hand from his, crossing it over your chest once more, “Requasted by who?”

“Hmmm what was the word you used for it again?” The Doctor’s hand, now free from holding your wrist, went to his chin in contemplation, “Ah yes, that’s it. A situationship. Screwllum requested your prescene.” With his other hand, he let go of open door button, allowing the door to close behind him, “We’ll see you in the Seclusion Zone.”

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 9: a time to learn

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 6.8k

chapter warnings: injury recovery, lots of emotions happening

a/n: no words can describe how difficult this chapter was to write haha i apologise for some of the transitions between scenes and also for the fact that i did not proofread more than a cursory skim.

i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

Chan’s not a doctor and he’s never wanted to be one. But the longer that he spends in the hospital, the more he wishes there was something he could do to help. He knows that in a way, his presence is helping. The doctor tells him that for injuries, a soulmate bond is actually beneficial because sufficient Charge can increase healing times. 

The doctor also explains that the more serious injury is the initial stab wound. The blade had damaged Y/n’s liver, which had required surgery and now demands constant monitoring. It was the main reason that Y/n would have to stay in the hospital for an extended period of time. While the second wound was larger and required more stitches, it was fairly shallow and was expected to heal without any issues. 

As expected, there’s various bruises from the fall, but what surprises Chan is that he’s told Y/n is suffering from a mild concussion. When he had watched the footage that he had saved from social media, he could see that Y/n may have hit her head, but it hadn’t seemed that hard.

It means that Chan hasn’t left the hospital yet. It doesn’t really help that Y/n was specifically brought to the hospital that her father owns and that she’s situated in one of the nicest rooms available. With a large private bathroom, a separate room that has a few couches and low tables to entertain guests, and a large bed that’s almost more comfortable than the one Chan has at home, there’s no reason to leave. Yonghwan has been going back to the dorms to collect clothes and other personal items, like Chan’s laptop and some equipment. After a few days, the boys are allowed to visit too, although only in small groups and for short periods of time. 

Chan kind of hates the medications that Y/n is put on. He knows that she needs them to deal with the pain, to protect her from infection, it's just difficult to witness how they make her woozy and extremely tired, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she is awake, her thoughts are scattered, she can’t concentrate for long periods of time, and she spends most of the time watching Chan as he works or dozing.

It's a relief when she's finally weaned off of the ones that have the worst side effects. 

Although she gets her phone back pretty soon after waking, Y/n doesn’t really touch it until her doctor lets her know that her concussion has healed and she’s been cleared to look at screens without any limitations. Chan has helped her with messaging some of her friends and family, but she seems pleased to have full access to her phone again. Chan leaves her to catch up on everything, taking out his laptop and opening up a track that he’s been trying half-heartedly to finish a first draft of. 

He gets pulled away from his work a couple hours later when Y/n calls his name. She’s biting at her lip and staring with a furrowed brow at something on her phone. He immediately sets aside his laptop and turns to face her, trying not to worry.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Did you- I saw-” Y/n takes a second to gather herself and then flips her phone to show him what she’s looking at. It’s a Twitter fanpage, dedicated to Chan’s Bubble subscription. The last tweets are the updates to his profile picture, background photo, name, and status.

He did it in a fit of anger, knowing it was about as much as he could do without getting in trouble with the company. He wouldn’t dare send any messages about the incident, especially ones that could be twisted the wrong way and end up hurting Y/n, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend everything was okay.

So he deleted it all. Or, rather as much as he could. Replacing the pictures with solid black, leaving the status line empty. He didn’t have as much freedom with his name, but left it as “찬“ and nothing more. He hadn’t sent anything since then, either.

The other members hadn’t changed anything on their profile, but they too had been subdued in their messaging. The first couple of days, they did nothing. After that, Changbin, Jisung, and Felix joined Chan in the continued radio silence. Hyunjin had sent pictures of the sunset, when it was Y/n’s favourite time of the day and the clouds were painted pink against the blue background of the sky. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had messaged only a couple times since then, reminders for Stays to eat well, get lots of rest, and stay safe.

There hadn’t been an official statement released by the company, but news of the incident had spread like wildfire.

“And yesterday was Sunday,” Y/n says slowly. “You were here the whole time, what about Channie’s Room?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do it?” When Chan just shrugs in response, Y/n’s brow creases like she’s trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “What? But you… You always do it. Did the company tell you that you can't?”

“No, they didn't have to. I already let them know I wasn't going to."

"Then why?"

“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to,” Chan says sullenly, even though the explanation makes him feel like a toddler who doesn’t want to share their toys.

“What do you mean? It’s- You promised Stays! Here you can go now, just go to your studio and do a short live. If this is some sort of roundabout punishment for what happened-”

“I don’t want to,” Chan repeats. “All they’re going to do is spam the chat with questions about what happened. I don’t want to deal with that and honestly I don’t know if I can go through that without blowing up on them.”

"But-"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I have had other priorities the past few days? That I don't want to have to pretend that everything is okay?"

Y/n seems to soften at that. Chan reaches out and he catches her hand in his, mindful of the tape and IV that’s attached to it. The Charge warms between them.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’m glad that you’re taking a break. Sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you.”

“You weren’t. Everything that I’m doing, it’s my decision. I know everything has been pretty overwhelming lately, but you’re-”

Before he can finish, the door to their room slides open and a nurse steps in to serve them dinner. 

“What were you going to say?” Y/n asks once they’re alone again.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Chan lies. “So it probably wasn’t that important. Let’s eat.”

Chan’s almost glad for the interruption. The moment is gone now and Chan’s just now realising that he has no idea how Y/n would react if he had said what he wanted. That she was his biggest priority right now. That he cares about her. That he would do anything for her. 

He’ll do that later, when they’re at home. When everything has calmed down.

—

Chan wakes to the loud smack of someone’s hand against a table. His face is burrowed into the soft fabric covering Y/n’s shoulder, his arm is wrapped around her waist, and the whole length of his body relaxed by the warm thrum of the Charge. He cracks open one eye and, after seeing that neither Y/n nor Eunsung, who was the source of the noise, have seemed to notice, quickly closes it to feign sleep. 

When Eunsung speaks, his tone is exasperated, like he’s had this conversation multiple times before.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him about it,” he insists. “The doctor said you have acute fatigue and the only reason it’s getting better is because the two of you are practically glued together right now. The second that he starts going back to schedules, it’s going to be the same as it was before.”

“I was doing fine before,” Y/n defends herself. “Things just got so busy with all the concerts, I forgot to eat enough. As long as I make sure that I’m getting enough calories, it makes up for the Charge. I promise, I'll make sure to take better care of myself."

Chan has no clue what they’re talking about. Acute fatigue? Y/n not eating enough? Chan hasn’t heard anything on these before.

"I don't think you understand. It's not about you doing things to take better care of yourself, it's about him not letting you take care of yourself. If you Charged for at least 6 hours a day then you wouldn't have to worry about eating more than you used to. You shouldn't have to be making up for anything," Eunsung argues.

"Listen, Eunsung-oppa," she says. "I know you're saying this because you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing. This is… This is bigger than just Chan-ssi and I. He's not just my soulmate, he's the leader of Stray Kids, a producer for 3RACHA. It's- The work that he does- What I see on Twitter, the comments on Youtube, the posts on community. He has the power to reach so many people and make lives better. And he does. He’s such a good person. How can I do anything but support him in any way I can? Even if that means letting him push himself without stepping in, then I'll do it. I trust that he knows his own limits."

“And if that means him ignoring your limits?”

“Eunsung-oppa-” Y/n protests.

"You've talked to him about it," Eunsung interrupts her, clearly able to read something in her tone of voice.

"Yeah, I- I understand how you feel, being on that side of it. I thought that I could convince him, but it turns out that he convinced me instead."

"But the conversation you were having, it was about him taking care of himself instead of you prioritising your needs, wasn't it?" he presses. Y/n confirms, but it sounds reluctant. 

“He didn’t want to hear it. He was… I don’t know. I don’t want to say what he said to me.”

“And he never brought it up again?”

“He did, kind of. He said sorry the next day. And I know he’s sorry. I know some of the things that he said were just in the heat of the moment. I get it, I really do. He was stressed, tired, we probably weren’t getting enough Charge, even then. But… It hurt. What he said,” Y/n says, her voice small. “What he really meant. It still hurts a little, every time I think about it. Every time I see him.”

"Sometimes you two are too similar. You’re both just pretending you’re fine, but you’re not. I know Chan, maybe not as well as you, but in a different way. He’s not the type to just let this type of thing slide. As much as I hate him right now for making you hurt, if he doesn’t know that you’re hurting, then there’s no way that things will be fixed. I think you need to talk again, if he cares about you at all then he wouldn't just let this go."

"I think you're overestimating our relationship a bit."

"What? Even after the past few months, you guys aren't close?"

“I’m not delusional, I never had fantasies of us immediately falling in love like in the movies or shows, I just,” she shrugs with the shoulder the Chan wasn’t curled up against. “I don’t know, I just thought that we could be friends or something.”

“You wouldn't even consider yourself to be friends?” Eunsung says in a low voice.

“Actually, at one point I did think we were friends… or maybe more,” Y/n admits with a hollow laugh. “I was wrong. His attitude keeps changing, I can’t keep track of it. One second he’s annoyed at me for nagging him and the next he’s carrying me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch. But wherever we’re arguing, it feels like it’s always my fault. And I know, I know that I’m hard to be around. It’s just hard. The moments of… care, they were an illusion. It was all fake, like kids playing house. He can tolerate me of course, but in the end, I'm just someone he works with.”

"You don't think that if he were to hear what you're saying, he would be sad?" Eunsung asks. Y/n stays silent for a while.

“I don't know. What he said to me. I thought a lot about it. I- I want to make his life better, but I think… I think I make it worse. I don’t understand why we’re soulmates, I can think of a million people who would be better for him than me,” she finally confesses, voice sounding wet.

Eunsung shifts forward, but before he can speak, a nurse knocks on the door and lets herself in. It’s enough noise that Chan takes it as an opportunity to pretend to wake up. When Y/n notices, she looks back towards the nurse and quickly sits up straighter so that Chan's arm naturally falls away from where it’s wrapped around her.

“I think you should go to the company, Chan-ssi,” Y/n suggests after the nurse has finished redressing her wound and has left. Her voice is back to normal, upbeat even, and if Chan hadn't been awake then he wouldn't have been able to tell she had just been in a heavy conversation. It’s scary how easily she can mask her emotions. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of all the time you’ve been spending here. Eunsung is already heading there, he can give you a ride.”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Eunsung mutters, but he stands up and gathers his things without waiting for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

Normally, Chan would protest being ordered around, but at this point he’s just grateful to have some space to process what he just heard. He knows that Minho and Jisung were planning to visit soon and that Felix would be dropping by shortly after, so at least he feels somewhat comfortable leaving Y/n alone. He feels lightheaded and… bad in a way that he can’t describe. It's different than when he first found out that Y/n was hurt. Now it's almost like he’s dissociating, but worse because having an out-of-body experience would be better than the heavy press of emotions that he feels now. It’s clogging up his airways and all he can do is focus on following Eunsung out of the room.

Chan hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with Eunsung, but he knows for sure that they were never as tense as they are right now. It’s understandable though, after what he just heard. When Chan starts toward the lane where he usually gets picked up and dropped off, Eunsung instead steers him toward the parkade. 

“This way, superstar. Unlike you, I actually have the freedom to drive myself.” Chan barely notices the thinly veiled jab, he’s still reeling from the conversation. He can’t think of a comeback and really, doesn’t feel like he deserves to give a rebuttal.

When they finally stop in front of a car, Chan catches himself right before reaching for the back car door instead of the one to sit shotgun. 

The pair sit in silence for the first half of the ride, until Eunsung finally speaks up.

“You know, you don’t deserve her,” Eunsung says, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And you do?” Chan fires back, thinking of all the rumours he’s heard from the rest of the staff, the giggles he hears whenever Eunsung interacts with Y/n. Although his guilt is creeping up and clouding his thoughts, his first instincts are to feel defensive.

Y/n is his soulmate, not Eunsung’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how close the two of you are.” He tries hard to not sound too accusatory, but instead his words come out as overly bitter.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"And is that all you want to be?"

In response, Eunsung just laughs incredulously. “What? Even you thought- You think that I like Y/n? I’m-” He can’t even finish his thoughts before he starts to laugh again. “Of course I like her, but she’s like a sister to me.” 

“Of course you would say that-”

“I’m married, Chan."

"What?" Chan exclaims. "But, but everyone was saying you- I thought- Who are you married to?"

"Saerom. I've definitely mentioned her before, I know for sure that Y/n has too."

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I thought- I thought Saerom was the name of your dog.”

"What?!" Eunsung turns to gape at Chan.

“How was I supposed to know? You said you have to take her on walks otherwise she gets too restless, you talk about buying her treats! You said she doesn’t like it when you’re travelling for too long, it sounds like how Berry gets when the family goes on vacation. Just because she has a human name doesn't mean she is a human. I've never seen a picture of her either."

“Oh, I cannot wait to tell Y/n about this.” Eunsung continues to laugh while Chan hides his face in his hands. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He’s relieved that Eunsung isn’t secretly in love with Y/n but also mortified that he thought his wife was a dog. At this point, opening the car door and flinging himself out doesn’t sound like a bad idea to get himself out of this conversation.

“You don’t wear a ring,” he says, probably digging himself further into the hole he’s currently in.

In response, Eunsung hooks a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a chain, a ring dangling on the end of it. They turn into the company parking lot and Eunsung kills the engine, turning to face Chan directly.

“Chan-ssi,” he says seriously. “I know that there are rumours about a relationship between Y/n and I. She knows about them too. I’m not deaf to the chatter or the way they react when we’re together. Just, is it really so bad if people suspect that the two of us are soulmates? And I’m not saying this because I enjoy all the rumours. It’s because I know that they mask any sort of interactions that you have with her. If any other staff finds out that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital, they wouldn’t think anything of it other than you being concerned because she’s a manager and you were right there when it happened.”

Even though Chan doesn’t like the idea, he knows that Eunsung is right. It’s safer this way. He just has to get used to swallowing the possessive part of him that wants to publicly declare his soulmate bond. He can do this if it means protecting Y/n.

“You’re right,” Chan says quietly.

“I know all of this must be hard for you and even harder if you didn’t know about Saerom. Just know, we’d never do anything outside of being friends, I promise. If you don’t trust me, then at least trust Y/n. And,” he hesitates for a moment. “I know you heard our conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“I saw when you woke up. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, but luckily for you, I don’t think Y/n noticed.”

“I- I really messed things up, didn’t I?” Chan says, feeling defeated.

“I’ll be honest, it’s going to be difficult, fixing your relationship. Y/n is very independent. It’s definitely one of her strengths, but it’s also a big weakness. She doesn’t ask for help, even if she needs it and she’s very hard on herself. You know her family, she’s used to doing things on her own. She’s trying her best with this whole soulmate situation and she was really opening up. She trusted you.”

The past tense in his sentence shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“You hurt her,” Eunsung continues. “But I know Y/n will forgive you. She cares about you, a lot. If it wasn’t obvious by… everything that has happened so far. You just have to talk to her.”

“I- Thank you, Eunsung,” Chan finally says. “Thank you for being there for her, for helping with all of… this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good person, Chan-ssi. I want things to work out between the two of you.” Abruptly, Eunsung’s tone hardens. “But if you make a habit of hurting her, just know that sasaengs will be the least of your worries.”

—

Chan forces himself to try and be productive for at least an hour in his studio before resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with how distracted he is. He spends the whole time wishing that he was back at the hospital. 

Right as he’s about to call it a day, Jisung- who has just arrived after visiting Y/n and assures him that she’s still doing okay- and Changbin join him. They’ve actually been getting work done in the past few days and quickly run through the progress that they’ve made. Even with their presence, Chan’s attention span is practically non-existent. Everything seems to remind him of Y/n.

He ends up staying until the sun starts to set. When Changbin and Jisung start to discuss dinner options, he takes the opportunity to pack up his things.

“Hyung, are you not joining us?” Changbin asks.

“Sorry-” Chan starts saying.

“Hyung just wants to go and see Y/n again. He doesn’t care about us anymore,” Jisung whines playfully. 

“That’s not true!” Chan says indignantly.

“You don’t have to lie, just make it up to us.”

“Anything,” Chan agrees.

“Have dinner back at the dorms with us tomorrow,” Jisung says instantly. “You need to bring new clothes to the hospital anyway, you can save Yonghwan-hyung a trip this way.”

Chan realises this was his plan all along and reluctantly agrees. Logically, he knows that nothing will happen to Y/n while he’s away, he just feels better being able to see it with his own eyes.

—

When he gets back to the hospital, he’s surprised to find Y/n just staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening or Chan’s greeting while he had closed it again. He approaches her cautiously, afraid of startling her, but still manages to make her jump when he gets into her field of vision.

“Oh!” she says breathlessly, putting a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back.” She automatically smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, just had a weird day,” she says in that same strange voice she had back in Japan. Chan is starting to realise it means that she’s hiding something.

“Y/n-”

“Maybe it’s just because you were gone. Not to be clingy or anything, I’m glad that you were finally able to go to the company and get some real work done, but I’ve gotten used to having you attached to my side,” she jokes. It’d be convincing if her voice was more steady, if her smile reached her eyes.

“Uhm,” Chan says, not quite sure if he should pursue the topic further or go along with Y/n’s attempt to gloss over it. “I’m sorry, I promised that I’d go back for dinner tomorrow.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at that. “You don’t have to apologise for that! I’m glad that you’re finally getting to see them after being cooped up here. They're your family, you have to spend time with them.”

“I wasn’t forced to stay here though! I want to be here, I want to be with you. You're my family too,” Chan says earnestly. 

Y/n's lips press tightly together at that and she breaks eye contact.

“How about this, Eunsung-oppa was planning to come by tomorrow sometime anyway. He said that he’d bring me some non-hospital food and I couldn’t say no,” she says instead of responding to Chan’s comment. “Felix wanted to come by again too, so you can go home at the same time as him. I’ll tell Eunsung-oppa to come by around dinnertime so you don’t feel like you’re leaving me behind, is that okay?”

“Okay, but promise me that if anything happens then just call me and I’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

—

Dinner with the members is rowdy as usual, maybe even moreso. Chan doesn’t think much of it, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts, until he takes a second too long to respond to someone and catches a couple of concerned glances. He realises that the boys are being overly rambunctious to keep him present. It warms his heart and makes him feel guilty at the same time.

After eating, Jisung slumps onto the couch, stretching out so that his feet hang over the side. Chan joins him, smothering him in affection before he leaves for the night. He knows that Jisung has been more anxious than usual these past few days and although he wishes he could do more to help him, his biggest priority at the moment is Y/n.

“Minho-hyung and I met Y/n’s family yesterday,” Jisung says, voice muffled from being pressed against Chan.

Chan bolts upright, accidentally elbowing Jisung in the process, forcing a groan out of him.

“What? When?” he demands. His mind is racing, finally able to sort out Y/n’s strange behaviour when he had last seen her.

“I forgot to mention it at the studio, but when I was visiting, they also showed up. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but they seemed alright.”

“Just alright?” Chan prompts him, trying to calm his heart rate which has spiked.

“Uhm, I mean her parents were very… polite. They spoke to Y/n privately so I just met them briefly.”

“Where did you go?”

“Her brother, Siwon, I forgot he’s a doctor too. He took me to a private lounge they had, there weren’t any people around which was good. He seemed nice, concerned about Y/n.”

“Well not that concerned,” Chan mutters darkly, “since he didn’t even bother to visit until yesterday.”

Jisung stares at him, clearly shocked by the sudden vitriol.

“Sorry,” Chan says, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “It’s just been a lot these days, my emotions are everywhere.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung says cautiously. “It’s been a lot for all of us, but mostly you and Y/n.”

Chan hums in agreement, but still feels bad.

“You can go back now if you want,” Jisung prompts him.

“What? No, I-”

“I can tell you’re distracted,” he says. “Go, we’ll still be here when she’s better.”

Chan goes.

—

The route to the hospital and through the back entrance is becoming more familiar by now. Chan accidentally startles Y/n when he opens the door to her room, but her expression quickly settles to one of relief upon seeing him. Now that he’s looking closely, he can recognize the same, strained smile that he first saw at Chuseok. 

She shuffles to the side of the bed and lifts the blankets so that Chan can sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“The boys all missed you,” he says in greeting. “Dinner wasn’t the same with just the eight of us.”

“Oh come on-”

“You’re part of us, now. I told you before. And-” Chan hesitates for a moment. “I heard that your parents visited.” Y/n stiffens for a second, before relaxing again.

“Ah, Jisungie, the little snitch,” she says, the fondness in her voice opposing her words. “Yes, they dropped by while you were away.”

“And?”

“Well, my eomoni was telling me that it was a sign that I should quit my job, get out of the industry, said I was stupid for getting between the sasaeng on you, the usual. But I got my abeoji to look over my files, when I asked he said that I can be released tomorrow!” she says excitedly, smiling so much that her eyes curve into crescents. “I get to go home!”

It’s clear that things with her parents didn’t go as well as Y/n is projecting, but Chan is too much of a coward to push more. Somehow that righteous anger that had filled him when he had talked to Jisung has been replaced with uncertainty. He doesn’t want to get into yet another disagreement with Y/n now that he knows what she truly thinks of him. Or rather, what she thinks that he thinks of her. He needs to focus on bringing them together instead of allowing them to drift further apart. He vows to bring this topic up another time, when things are better between them.

“That’s great!” he replies, but even as he says it, he can’t help the nervousness that starts to form in his stomach at the thought. He is happy that she’s been healing well and will definitely be reassured to have her back home, but until now, the hospital has served as a sort of protective bubble for Y/n, shielding her from the outside world. He has the irrational sense that keeping her here longer is the same as keeping her safe for longer.

—

“Bang Chan-nim?” The doctor that has been in charge of Y/n’s care steps into the room and glances at Y/n, who is busy packing away her things. All morning she’s been in a good mood, enthusiastically talking about what she plans to do once she’s back at the dorms. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course!” he replies. He tells himself that everything is alright, but can't stop himself from running his hands through his mess of hair, palms prickling with nerves.

The doctor leads Chan to his office and smiles at him gently, like he’s about to break some bad news and needs to make sure that Chan doesn’t also break. It makes things worse, Chan’s stomach starts to churn, his mind racing.

“This might be a difficult conversation, but you may already be aware.” The doctor starts slowly. “Y/n-nim works with idols, right? In the entertainment industry?”

“Yes,” Chan agrees, but he’s confused. Did someone leak the news of Y/n’s injuries? Is there a sasaeng that’s been visiting the hospital? He wants to pull out his phone and immediately call the company and force them to do more damage control, but the doctor continues.

“These days, there is a lot of pressure for young women, especially those who work with or follow idols, to fit into certain beauty standards.” Chan nods. He’s seen countless people destroy their bodies to try and lose more and more weight and knows how devastating it is, but he still doesn’t understand the point of this conversation.

“I’m concerned about Y/n-nim”-the doctor interrupts Chan’s thoughts-“When she came to the hospital, we were focused only on her injuries, but throughout her treatment, we have noticed that she is underweight. The testing that we’ve done tells us she has not been getting enough of what her body needs. Not getting enough food, not enough charge, and not enough rest. She's showing signs that she was becoming malnourished.

“It’s not uncommon to see those with soulmates, especially young women, take advantage of the bond, reducing charging time and saying that they will eat more instead. They often eat a normal amount so that it doesn’t concern anyone, but it’s not nearly enough to make up for the missing charge. Both of you have probably been more sensitive lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve also noticed yourself being irritable or having rapid mood changes these past few days."

Chan can't do anything but stare as the doctor pulls out a small packet of paper. His pulse roars in his ears and all he can feel is guilt, pooling in his stomach and creeping towards his extremities. He feels nauseous. This is his fault.

He thinks back to all the nights where he stayed in the studio, just a little bit longer to finish a track, sliding into bed to charge for only a few hours before they had to wake up. Of the extra meals, protein drinks, snacks he had consumed that he thought nothing of, too used to the varying diets of the rest of the members depending on their schedules and the ups and downs of bulking up or cutting calories. He’s used to the heaviness of his eyelids, the pounding headaches, and occasional dizziness that were the result of sleepless nights.

All these things he had taken in stride, forgetting that Y/n had been dealing with too. He had the luxury of being an idol, during schedules and tour, there was always breaks for food. But he had seen the way the managers and coordis had to run around, only eating when they had a couple minutes to spare.

He knows that he’s snapped at Y/n more than a few times, patience worn thin enough that at the end of the day he doesn’t have it in him for niceties. Of course, he had felt bad about it after the fact, but Y/n hadn’t seemed very phased by it and he had forgotten about it until the next time. It wouldn’t be the first time that stress made him more easily annoyed and ill-tempered, but now he realises why he seemed quicker to get caught up in his emotions.

The doctor continues talking, but Chan feels like he's underwater, the sound is muffled. This is his fault. 

"Bang Chan-nim!" The doctor clasps one of Chan's hands in his and finally pulls his attention away from his self-loathing thoughts. "Are you okay? I know it can be a shock to find out, but don't feel bad. It's very common to be surprised, people are good at hiding things like this, even if you're close to them and I know that your bond is still relatively new. Luckily there are a lot of strategies we have to help your soulmate get more Charge, even if you both have busy schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Chan replies weakly, he can barely focus on what’s being said, all he can think of is that he's the reason his soulmate is malnourished. And he didn't notice. That they think Y/n has an eating disorder, when it's him that has dictated the amount of charge that she gets. The doctor flips open the packet of papers and starts to highlight it.

"The most important thing right now is increasing Charging time. With Y/n-nim's injuries, her bedrest and all the time you two have spent charging have already been helping a lot. Take this recovery period as a time to build new habits and establish a routine that involves more skinship. I understand you two are busy, but I expect you try for at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep while charging, but more if possible. If you're both doing work on the computer, watching a show or movie, or eating, then sitting close enough to touch will help recharge without taking away from your regular activities. As you may already know, for the most efficient charging more skin-to-skin contact is recommended." He flips the front page back over and places the packet onto another, larger, stack of papers. "More details can be found here and this is the rest of Y/n-ssi's care instructions, prescriptions, and other information on soulmate bonds."

"Thank you so much," Chan says, automatically reaching out to accept all the papers.

"You're welcome. This must be very overwhelming, but Y/n-nim is healing quickly. Your bond is helping her recover much faster. We caught her malnutrition fairly early and expect that she'll be at normal energy levels within a few weeks. Don't feel guilty and try not to worry too much, Bang Chan-nim. Your bond is a good thing, not a bad one." The doctor smiles warmly, checking his watch and standing up. "Y/n-nim should be ready to be discharged now, let's go back to the room so that we don’t keep her waiting."

Chan follows the doctor back in a daze. Y/n is sitting on one of the chairs in her room, scrolling on her phone when they arrive. She brightens when they enter.

“Can we leave now?” she asks eagerly. Chan beelines to her side, reaching to hold her hand.

“Yes, everything has been sorted out now and Bang Chan-nim has all your care instructions. Please give us a call or come to visit if you have any questions or concerns at all,” the doctor says.

“Of course.”

“Looks like everything is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you both, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances. I hope that the rest of your recovery goes well, Y/n-nim, and please do not hesitate to contact us for anything.” With that, the doctor bows and leaves the room.

At the same moment, a nurse knocks on the doorframe as a greeting, pushing a wheelchair through the open door. Y/n’s smile fades when she sees it.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “I can walk, there’s no need for one of those.”

She turns to look at Chan for support, but he just shrugs helplessly. Secretly, he would feel better if she used it. After only a week in the hospital, she isn’t close to being fully recovered, even if she hides it well. He’s seen the slight grimaces when Y/n tries to shift positions and the way her face is lined with pain when she walks or has to stand straight for longer than a few minutes. If she pushes herself too much now, it’ll just extend the overall healing process.

“Really, I don’t need it,” she insists. “What was the point in all the walking practise? Besides, Chan-ssi and Yonghwan-ssi will be beside me, they won't let anything happen to me.”

The nurse looks sceptical, but agrees. Before they leave the room, Y/n twists her hand trying to break Chan’s grip. 

“It’s too public,” she murmurs when he tightens his hold instead. “Just in case, I don’t want anyone to see anything that can be misinterpreted.”

Unable to think up an argument against that, Chan reluctantly lets go. Y/n hooks her arm with Yonghwan’s instead and they make their way out, Chan hovering behind them anxiously. They’re all wearing masks and hats and the car that’s going to pick them up is waiting at a private exit, but there’s a shared urgency in their movement. By now, the media has turned their attention to other stories, but with the radio silence from Stray Kids since the incident, fans have had nothing to do except theorise and wonder what’s happening behind the scenes. 

He knows that it’s making him paranoid. He finds that he’s constantly looking over his shoulder when he’s in the hallways of the hospital. He’s never been more careful trying to cover up his appearance and avoid anybody who looks like they might recognise him. 

They can’t risk the chance of a sighting of Y/n, especially now that her face was captured and shared on social media by fans before JYPE’s legal team was able to step in, and pictures of Chan with Y/n would make things much worse. There have already been rumours about how close Y/n is with all the members and who she is, using pictures from other schedules and events, somehow identifying her in blurred out clips from vlogs that have been posted, and even old footage from when she worked with Xdinary Heroes as evidence. 

It scares Chan. Scares him so much that he can’t talk about it to anybody.

Although Y/n’s time in the hospital was fairly short, all things considered, Chan feels like he’s the one that has changed during this stay. Everything he has learned has made him feel like his chest has been opened up and his insides have been scooped out, leaving him hollowed out and unsteady. 

When they finally get home safely, it feels like Chan can breathe easily for the first time in days.

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[mareagirls]

Hi! If you’re ever in the mood to write a sickfic I like this idea.

Peter and reader are on a date, but reader feels nauseous. But, reader doesn’t want to tell Peter because a: they’ve both been super busy lately between Spider-Man duties and college and/or work and b: because even if reader won’t admit it, being vulnerable and being taken care of kind of scares them. But Peter finds out/figured it out and wants to help and fluff ensues.

Anyway, it’s just an idea. No pressure to complete (obvi)! Hope you’re doing well and drinking water! <3

~🥧

 hey pie anon! i hope this is okay and i'm sorry it's months late! I forgot it was in my drafts :')

You realise something is wrong when you’re only a quarter of the way through your pizza and Peter is over half way through his.

You feel sick. Or at the very least least like you might be - nausea brewing uncomfortably in your stomach as you take small bites of your food.

Your boyfriend chats away opposite you, blissfully unaware that you've started to feel queasy, so you plaster a smile on your face and swallow hard. The two of you have been incredibly busy for the past few days between your work and his vigilante duties, and the last thing you want to do is ruin the first peaceful moment you’ve had together. You can tell how much Peter has needed a little normalcy. The thought of ruining it because you’re feeling a little off feels incredibly selfish.

Beyond that, you're not used to letting people take care of you, and though Peter has told you countless times that he likes doing it, you can never quite dislodge uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability that blooms in you whenever he does. Letting yourself be loved, allowing Peter to look after you when you're not feeling too well - they're processes. You've been trying to work on them for a while, but it's difficult. It always has been.

You’re just trying to rub at your chest discreetly when Peter looks up at you from his almost empty plate. 

"Everything okay?" 

"Yes! Yeah, everything is fine." Your reply comes out wobbly and you only realise afterwards that you’ve made too much of an effort to sound alright. You smile at Peter through gritted teeth and try foolishly to convince yourself that if you pretend the nausea doesn't exist, it'll go.

Peter doesn’t look like he believes you for a second.

"Are you sure? Do you not like your pizza?" He pushes his own plate towards you as if it's the easiest thing ever, offering you his last two slices. "Here, baby. We can swap."

The tender easiness in the gesture very nearly makes you want to cry. Peter Parker might just be the loveliest boy you’ve ever known.

"No, Peter it's okay. My pizza is good,” your hands shifts slightly to rub against your abdomen, Peter tracks your movements cautiously. “I'm just kinda full I think.”

Your boy raises an eyebrow at your barely eaten pizza but nods, never one to push you for explanations.

"I'll ask for the bill and a box to take the rest home. We can have the ice cream in the freezer when we get back. How's that sound?"

The thought of ice cream makes you feel queasy, but Peter seems so hopeful and he's looked so tired and sad in the past few days that you cant help but indulge him.

-

Once you’ve gotten the bill and packed your leftover pizza into a takeaway box, Peter takes your hand in his and guides you out of the restaurant.

New York City in the evening is a sensory nightmare, but your nausea does abate slightly thanks to the fresh air. You catch Peter looking down at you and stamp an awkward smile on your face.

"Home?" He squeezes your fingers gently.

Your stomach churns at the thought of having to go so far, but Peter is looking at you like you've hung the moon and the stars - the journey home feels a little more bearable with him by your side.

"Yes please."

"You okay to walk?" 

"I'm fine, Peter. I promise."

"No, you're not, baby. And that's okay, you don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don’t want to. Just let me take care of you."

You sigh, resigned. You don't even know why you tried to hide it from him. Peter can quite literally hear your heartbeat, of course he was going to clock that you're not feeling too well.

Peter keeps his body angled towards yours as the two of you walk, and you soon realise that he's shielding you the best he can from the light around you and all the bodies rushing past. It's a small gesture, one that he might not even realise he's doing, but makes your chest flutter pleasantly

Then, just as you think that maybe the nausea is easing up, another wave of discomfort overwhelms you and you stumble.

Fortunately Peter catches your wrist just before you can do any real damage, balancing your pizza box in his free hand. He helps you back up easily, his fingers a warm pressure on your skin.

"Woah. Hey, hey, sweetheart. Let's just stop for a second, hm?"

You are mortified, and very sorry about how inconvenient you're being but when Peter pulls you to a stop, you oblige. Tears swarming in your eyes, you make one last ditch attempt at snuffing out the discomfort by pushing your face into the soft sweatshirt your boyfriend is wearing. 

You feel him go still and for one horrible millisecond, you think he's going to push you away, but then Peter’s body relaxes and he presses you against him softly, almost as if he's afraid to hurt you.

You mumble into his chest. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologise," his lips are soft against the crown of your head. "You're good. Let's take a moment, alright?"

You nod, sniffing slightly.

"We're nearly there. Just a few more blocks to go." 

Something like a whine gets stuck in your throat and Peter coos gently, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “I know. You’re alright, honey. I've got you.”

You straighten up after a few seconds, aware that this is not at all what he signed up for when the two of you left the house, and Peter frowns a little.

"You can lean into me, baby. You're not a bother."

And you do know, because he's said it to you countless times before in different variations. I like being there for you. You don't have to apologise. I'm here for you, it's kinda in the boyfriend job description.

Peter doesn’t have to repeat himself. When he nudges you closer, you lean in.

-

Once you’re at home, Peter lets go of you carefully, never taking his eyes off you as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pull out the keys to let you both in.

He places the pizza box on the microwave in the kitchen before following you through down the corridor, a hand ghosting the small of your back. When you reach the bedroom, he dims the lights.

You sit on the bed gingerly. Peter sits next to you.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asks.

You’re quiet for a while. Then, a small admission;

"I feel really nauseous Peter." You avoid his gaze. "It started in the restaurant. I don't... I don't know what's wrong."

Peter is silent for a beat. You take it as a sign that you've said something wrong.

"It's fine though. I'm sorry for ruining the meal. I know you were looking forward to this." your voice is hoarse. "I’m really sorry."

When you muster the courage to look up at him, Peter looks horrified.

"Baby, what are you talking about? You didn't ruin anything. It's okay." His hand comes up to brush at your jawline. "I got to spend time with my best girl. I feel like the luckiest guy alive."

You think he might be exaggerating just to make you smile, but there's real sincerity in his tone. "Do you want pain relief? Some ginger tea, maybe?"

Right now, you only want Peter.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit, please?"

"Oh, my girl." Peter is already pulling you down so that you're lying against his chest. "C'mere."

[txrasbae]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

⋆·˚ ༘ *pairing⋆·˚ ༘ *- tara chamblerxfem!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅warnings* ‧₊ - none

*ੈ✩word count ‧₊˚ - 1,563

୨୧A/N - thank you to the server for forcing me to write this I'm actually very proud of it :3

my first idea of love was terrible. the first time i thought i knew what love was and how it should be, it was torn in half. only months before the apocalypse started, my parents got into a fight.

they always fought and i was used to the yelling. hell, i was even used to how aggressive my dad got. not this time. i couldn't do it anymore. it ended up with my parents getting a divorce.

all because i couldn't keep my mouth shut and my feelings inside.

ever since then, i swore to myself and to the future people I'd meet that i would never try to love someone or let anyone love me. they say you're parents are the draft for how you grow up to be. i didn't want to roll with that so i never fell in love. if i felt like i was going to? i'd just leave. cut whatever person i felt feelings for out.

then the breakout began, cities being taken out within the hour, buildings burning down from the mass bombing. both of my parents died quickly. my mom was taken out by a walker while we tried to make it back to my dad's place. i got there alone, only to find his rotting corpse.

to this day, all of it still feels like my fault. maybe if they weren't hating each other because of how stressed their fighting made me. maybe then they'd still be living together. maybe they would have little secret safety spots that they came up with together that we all could've hid out in. but no. it's not like that. now, i was sitting outside of a gated community. in this world, it felt like i was dreaming when they let me in. houses, baths, food, and even cattle. it was all real. after a couple of days of people warming up to me, i finally got my own home to live in.

so far i was only getting close with two people from the community, a man named glenn and a girl named tara. everyone else was just acquaintances.

glenn was caring, and extremely protective. i saw him as a brother but not the kind where he's always looking after me. he supported me and my decisions.

tara.

tara had the softest brown eyes. almost all of the time, her resting face was still so kind. she made me laugh all the time. her hair was growing long after i had been there for so long. she let me trim it sometimes which turned into me completely styling her hair in the silliest ways possible. i had even found some makeup in the drawers in my house and decided that tara would be a good model for me. anytime that i wasn't helping around the community i was with tara. she loved lightning moments when she could. she loves fist bumps and thinks they are a simple way of showing friendship. she loves having her hair up but lets it down around me. she prefers baggy clothing because it's not touching her skin as aggressively and skin-tight clothes. she likes the feeling when i sit over her lap while i draw on small hearts next to her eyes with eyeliner. "you should try it on both sides this time babe." she says with that same small giggle between every other word. i tilt my head to the side a bit before lifting my hand to hold onto her chin and turn it to the left.

i draw another heart and she smiles. her eyes were locked on mine and mine were staring at the crease of her eye. when i looked back to her pupils, they widened. expanded as if she were under the influence. both of our eyelids flutter a bit before i can't even think anymore because our lips are pressed together, melting against each other. it felt nice in the moment but my head started finding its track again and i stood up quickly. i was falling in love again.

every day, i would think about tara. her doe-like eyes. her pillowy pink lips. her hair. dry or when she comes out of the shower and puts on one of my t-shirts instead of hers. how couldn't i tell that i actually loved her? how did my brain not process that for so long?

i panicked in place for a second before rushing out of the room, leaving tara dumbfounded. she sat on the bed in silent confusion, now sat up with her arms supporting her as she stood up.

the bathroom door slammed shut as i stepped inside. at first, i tried to take deep breaths and shake away this dreading feeling of love but it didn't work. i just kept imagining her face and how nice her lips felt against mine. it was all too perfect and that was the exact issue. i was going to fall in love then it would be taken away from me in a blink of an eye. my back was pressed against the bathroom wall while i had my head in my hands. i quietly cursed at myself for letting this happen but quickly jumped at the soft knock from tara.

"y/n? you in there?" she totally knew i was in there. but that's how tara is, she's kind, compassionate, understanding, and patient.

i swallow a large lump in my throat and begin to speak. "yeah."

"could i...come in?" she said through the door, her voice slightly muffled but i could hear the affection and need in her words.

a long sigh left my mouth when i thought about her question. she stayed sitting outside of the door as i contemplated letting her in. it could lead to so many different things. i could confess my feelings for her and she would say that she felt the same. or i could confess and she could feel the complete opposite and all of my precautions and overthinking would be right.

i open the door with a small creak. i could see the saddened look in her eyes when she saw that i had been crying. she was the only person that had ever seen me cry like this. all she did was look at me with a caring expression. the corners of her lips were tugged down a bit and her eyes and eyebrows were dropped down.

"i know." she breathed out with a small huff. i snapped my head up from my gaze on the floor and met her eyes but i was still silent.

"i've known. when you first did my hair i could see it in your eyes." my eyes flutter a bit, a look of disbelief painted all over my face.

"you don't even have to say anything okay? i just know and i also know that i want more with you. i want more than little sleepovers as if we're kids. i want more than you doing my makeup. i want more than taking the mornings to ourselves to clean up the horse stables i want more than this. i just..." she takes in a large breath and lets it out while staring up at the ceiling. she then brought her head back down to look at me while small tears fell from my eyes.

"i want you."

part of me couldn't even process the words leaving her mouth. another part of me wanted to run away from this horrid feeling. this terrible terrible moment where i realized that this was it. then that last third part of me wanted to smash my lips against tara's. but i just stood and stared at her with pure worry in my eyes. imagine it was all a joke and she was fucking with my feelings.

of course, she wasn't.

"please say anythi-"

for the first time ever, i quickly wrapped my hands around the back of her head and pressed our lips together without tugging away to run. not a rushed kiss or a hungry kiss. just a kiss. a long one. i felt a small breath leave her lips, probably a gasp but my brain was fogged over so i couldn't tell. all i knew was that i couldn't go back after this. her hands linked together behind the small of my back and pulled my hips closer to hers, not for a second did she let our lips slip away from each other. we ended up stumbling all the way from the bathroom back to her room. she laid back down on her bed with me on her lap. her hands still held onto my waist while i wrapped mine around the very back of her neck. our lips sunk into each other like puzzle pieces. i could taste some sort of fruit juice on her lips.

eventually, her hands found their way into my hair. the sensation of her fingertips and slightly long nails against my scalp sent a chill up my back.

my throat and lungs were telling me to pull away to catch my breath but my hands, feeling her soft skin, said to stay. my nose, gently tapping right beneath her eye socket, said to stay. my hips, sat on top of hers without fear, said to stay. my entire body told me to stay. then tara pulled away.

"are you gonna stay?"

tags - @carlsangel @crxssbowcarl @aurasplanet @hiro--aoki @rositastara @deadgirlwalkingx

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ VERY CONVINCING (edge x fem!reader)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: edge x fem!reader

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: @slutforoscarisaac

could you possibly write a one shot with heel!fem! reader and judgment day edge? edge wants reader to join judgement day but she refuses (cause she’s an independent badass) on live tv which pisses edge off. so after their segment edge follows reader to her locker room to convince her to join. if you could please add your little sprinkle of nsfw that would be amazing!

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: sprinkle of nsfw n slight aggression

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ೃ༄ NOTE: i have not proofread this so excuse how messy it is. it’s messy in general tbh i’m sO SORRY but my god i am very attracted to this man (i’m actually gay and ace but that’s just his power)

standing in ring, mic in hand as you listened to the boos of the crowd shouldnt been have exhilarating as it was. but as you surveyed the arena, one hip jutted out to the side to see the majority of those around you jeering and giving you disapproving gestures, you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. it probably seemed menacing to the crowd, a sadistic show that you felt no guilt for the betrayals you had done, but truthfully? you could get used to being so hated. most great wwe legends had this period in their career, and seeing your name up on this lists made it all worth it.

backstage, you had your friend and the crowds you stuck around. in the ring? the only allegiance you pledged was to yourself, and the audience were well aware by now that this loyalty to your own cause ran deep enough to turn on those who appeared to be your allies. you had a goal — the belt — and you didn’t care what you’d have to do to get to it.

“missed me?” you asked the wwe universe, satisfied with the heckles you received in response. your break had only been short, simply recovering from a surface wound doctors had advised needed time to heal over, but you had wasted no time in ambushing one of your fellow superstars backstage on your return, and the fans were shown once again you were back and undeterred from your backstabbing saga.

taking a few steps forward, your leant against the ropes that surveyed the right side of the arena.

“it seems in just a month you’ve all forgotten who runs this show huh? hope my little display reminded you all.” you growled out, voice as sultry as you could manage. you were a villain they loved to hate, after all. “i’m getting pretty fed up of you all doubting me. how many times do i have to prove i’m the best before you start to believe me?”

your taunts were welcomed with angry calls, coupled with the occasional fan who cheered as they stuck by your side. those that loved the underdog always made themselves known.

you were just about to launch into the purpose of your promo when the arena went dark again, and the first sign of trouble was when the animated wings spread ferociously across the screen at the back of the stage. really, with the track you were on, you should have expected this sooner.

still, nothing could have quite prepared you seeing the newly drafted judgement day appear at the opposite end of the arena to you, damian and rhea flanking their leaders side as edge honed his attention directly on you.

he looked so eerie in the dark, an unsettling feeling settling momentarily in your stomach as you dragged your eyes over the kingpin of the stable. he only smirked back menacingly as they made their way towards you.

as expected, playing their role as perfect lackeys, rhea and damian took their places either side of the ring, ready to jump incase you made a break for it — but not edge. oh no, he climbed into the ring gracefully, not stopping until he was a mere foot away from where you had returned to stand front and centre of the stage. from here, he towered over you, something you were sure on camera looked more intimidating than most things wwe had seen.

lifting a mic to his lips, judgement days leader began his proposition, not breaking eye contact once. “you’ve made your statement y/n. you’ve got what you wanted — an opportunity.”

after an intense stare down, edge stepped away from you, and suddenly you could breathe again as he paraded the ring in a circle around where you stood.

“you have a lot of things to offer: the heart, the mindset, the strength — but what you haven’t got? a lot of allies.” you daren’t turn your head fully to look at him, feeling how the intimidating (yet, gorgeous) man stopped behind you. all you were willing to give was a weak glance to your side to see rhea grinning in the darkness. “you could be so powerful if placed with the right people. you have everything it takes, but way too many enemies to take them all down at once.”

edge circled back around, acting like a vulture as it waited for its prey’s final breath. they were determined to wear you down, but you steeled yourself as you let the man continue.

“you have no aid, and when those you’ve betrayed turn on you — well.” edge chuckled to himself, sinister and gravelly in a way that went straight through you. “i’d hate to have a front row seat to your downfall when you could have had so much more.”

poking your tongue into the side of your cheek, you stretched out your neck as you inserted yourself back in the conversation. “your side getting cold, mister? need another body to warm your titleless stampede?” you sneered, finding satisfaction in the glare edge sent you in response. “if you think i’d join your faction just because i’m alone then you don’t know me at all.”

edge clenched his jaw, taking a step towards you as another chant was ignited amongst the crowd. “i know you’re a smart woman, y/n. i think you know we could be the leg up you need to finally take what’s yours. and i must say you’d be better to have us as allies than enemies.”

you pretended to mull it over, but your decision had already been made from the moment you saw them appear. you had gone it alone thus far, and if anything, it was now a matter of proving to yourself, and everyone who doubted you that you could do it.

“do you know what i think when i hear you talk, edge?” this time, it was you who took a step forward, crowding edge where he stood. you had to look up to speak directly to him, but your presence was large enough to veto the difference. “i hear a man who is scared. you all know perfectly well what i’m capable of. none of you could come out to face me one on one, so you just had to band together to prove a point.”

you clicked your tongue before continuing.

“that’s the difference between you and me. i’ve been doing this alone. my enemies don’t try to get to me because they know it’s a losing battle. and i’ll promise you something else,” you placed a hand against his chest for effect, sliding it steadily down until it rested on his sternum “when i win this, alone, without your pathetic help, you’ll be the first person i mention in my thank you speech.”

with that, you dropped your mic to the ground, giving an exaggerated curtsy that had long become your signature, before you clambered out of the ring and made your way down the catwalk to the familiar sound of your music. even those who hated you couldn’t help but cheer after the display, and you weren’t about to stick around to see how judgement day picked up the pieces of your rejection.

there was a certain level of pride in your actions, knowing you had stuck to your own guns. you had barely even faltered when cornered by the hall of famer, and you could use that as a testament to your determination. the congratulations you received from various superstars and company men as you headed backstage (even paul heyman stopped to praise you?!) certainly told the promo had been an overall success despite the interrupt.

there would be a lot to sort at a later date, surely some damage control that your manager would be responsible for, but for now you deserved a shower, and maybe some takeout.

the locker room welcomed you with a familiar squeak of the door, finding the room which you shared with just two others empty due to their lack of scheduling at the company tonight. these were you favourite shows, when you could stretch and take as much time as you needed, no fear of others bursting inside whilst you were kid costume change.

or at least, you thought.

it was just as you were brushing through your hair with your hands, a button down shirt hanging open on your frame over the underwear that the door opened with a clatter. you moved to cover yourself, and scream at whoever was entering unannounced, but then you turned to see the figure standing in the doorway.

edge stared you down, eyes only leaving yours when he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your half dressed body. you buttoned up the mid section of your shirt on instinct, stepping back to your back as the judgement days leader closed the door behind him.

“my answer is still no.” you muttered, trying your best to ignore how he locked the door behind him.

“i know.” he hummed, playing with the bottom of his suit jacket. you had to turn back to your things to avoid his cold gaze “you made that pretty clear with your attempt to embarrass me.”

“nothing personal, sweetheart.” you taunted, surely adding insult to injury.

edge gave a faint growl, suddenly crowding behind you a lot like how he had in the ring. you felt a tug to the hem of your shirt, slapping his hand away before you were even fully turned to face him. he was closer to you now, having chest nearly colliding with your own when you whipped around to shoot him a glare. but all your possible retorts died in your throat when you saw how he was staring at you.

like he wanted to eat you alive.

“oh trust me, sweetheart, i know. to turn down such an opportunity on a personal grudge? now you’d have to be more stupid than i first thought.” one of his hands reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but it wasn’t sweet in the way most would take that action, it was a fight for ownership.

you stepped back in an attempt to put some space between you and the man, but were met by the bench against the back of your knees, almost causing you to tumble. just before you could slam down against the seat and the hard wood of the locker spaces, an arm was around your waist, steadying you but leaving very little room to breathe.

“get off me.” you whispered, no real heat to your own request.

he knew that too, lips curling in a smirk as he realised he had you right where he wanted you. “you don’t want that, do you, y/n?”

steeling yourself, you choked out an unconvincing “i do”, and just to prove a point, edge released his grip just enough to allow you to slip.

you weren’t proud of how quickly you reacted, grabbing at the collar of the black suit to keep yourself upright and igniting a low chuckle from the man in front of you.

once you had steadied yourself, he was the one to move to release your hands from his collar. you thought he might move back after having made his point, but he didn’t make any attempt to even release his hold on you, instead, taking a step forward until your back was curved as it pushed against the hard wooden beam behind you. the only things holding you up now were the angle and the way you levelled your legs against his.

he used the position to his advantage, sliding his knee in between your thighs, knowing you couldn’t push him away for fear of falling. one of his hands came around your body, not quite touching in a way that would provide pressure, but dancing along your bare thigh enough to pull goosebumps from your skin.

“your little stunt has caused quite the rift amongst us.” he growled, low and rough as his eyes raked your upper body. the top of your shirt had slipped open enough now that you were sure he had the perfect line of view of your chest. “i think you owe me an apology. what do you say?”

his free hand, the one that wasn’t teasing your thigh, journeyed back up your body, coming around rest on the back of your waist. you couldn’t help but arch on instinct, head lifted enough that the space between your faces was almost minimal. he leant forward, breath ghosting over your lips as you mustered as much power as possible to whisper a half hearted “fuck you.”

edge chuckled again in response, hand on your waist giving a firm squeeze before his lips were on your neck. your brain was screaming to move away, but the pleasant sensation that rushed through your body told you otherwise. “you’d like that wouldn’t you.” he mumbled against your skin, trailing a line of kisses down the side of your neck and across your clavicle. you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out as he attached his lips to the bottom of your throat, nipping at the skin there “tell me to stop, babygirl, and i will.”

there was your out, all you needed was to say the word and, despite his harsh acting exterior, the gentleman inside would stop. but you both knew you couldn’t, not with how his hand massaged at your waist, and his lips sucked what would surely be a bruise come the morning into your sensitive neck.

“edge,” you whispered out, hands coming around his neck to tug him closer. he obliged, hand around your waist pulling you up and flush against his body. the movement caused just enough pressure of his knee against your crotch, and the involuntary groan that left your mouth was welcomed by him smashing his lips against yours.

he kissed you ferociously, not wasting any time before sliding his tongue into the mix. then, your feet were off the floor and legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he pushed your back against the locker spaces once more, his waist pressed firmly against yours so that you could feel just how affected he was. you were sure you weren’t much better, feeling the way your body reacted on instinct to the man’s touch.

he supported you enough with his thigh to release one hand from under you to practically undo the two buttons holding your shirt together with an expert flick. the air conditioning hit your body once more, and for someone who wrestled in underwear, you had never felt more exposed than now.

“still not joining.” you mustered up enough courage to whisper the rejection again, gasping loudly when edge used your distraction to cleverly unhook your bra. it didn’t slip off due to the issue of your shirt still being over your arms, but he seemed pleased with himself as he kissed down your chest.

the hand that had worked the magic on your top trailer down your centre, teasing finger pressing until he reached the hem of your underwear. he attached his lips momentarily to your left breast, before his hand found its goal and he cupped your heat through your underwear, a snarky “even now?” breathed into your skin.

you couldn’t help the moan that tore out of you once again as edge slipped your underwear to one side, but this time all that followed was a chuckle of your own as you used your hands to direct his head upwards. just before you collided your lips together once more, you punctuated your laugh with a sly “actually, you’re very convincing.”

[randomshipperhere]

Ai Mikaze Song Rant

!!🧹CLEANING OUT DRAFTS WRITTEN IN LIKE 2021. Posted as is last written🧹!!

that may or may not be an essay but since its structure is completely off, I opted to call it a rant.

Also Ai looks mighty fine in that outfit. Ver. A has him sticking his tongue out. So cute!!

Note: this is a long overdue post that was made prior to the release of the album, I have not changed anything within this because dammit my past self worked her ass off on this and just left it on the backburner for so long.

Before the next batch of Quartet Night Solo Songs get released this year (oh my god its been 3-4 years since the last ones) I wanted to write down the charm of Ai's songs and I hope the trend somewhat continues.

There are a total of 6 songs released since 2012 and each song also has it's own take on love.

There are a total of 6 songs released since 2012 and each song also has it's own take on love.

Winter Blossom: Parting of a loved one

A.I: Being and feeling loved

Futari no Monogram: Understanding oneself

Innocent Wind: The Warmth of Love

Mune no Kodou: Understanding Love

Synchronism: Playful, and a smidge bit sensual. Looks like the love arc is complete if you catch my drift

And now let's look at the song list:

うたの☆プリンスさまっ♪ アイドルソング嶺二＆藍

Uta no☆Purinsu-sama♪ Aidoru Songu Reiji & Ai

Track 02: Winter Blossom

August 22, 2012

Idol Song: Mikaze Ai

01: A. I

02: Futari no Monogram

June 25, 2014

マジLOVEレボリューションズアイドルソング 美風 藍

Maji LOVE Reboryuushonzu Aidoru Songu Mikaze Ai

01: Innocent Wind

02: Mune no Kodou

April 29, 2015

うたの☆プリンスさまっ♪ アイドルソング蘭丸＆藍

Uta no☆Purinsu-sama♪ Aidoru Songu Ranmaru & Ai

03: Synchronism

May 24, 2017

Now why does the second part matter? Well to me, if you put them together. Arrange by release date and track number, it almost sounds like a story on its own.

A person who has lost a loved one and forgot what the feeling felt like (Winter Blossom) until they discovered someone who could possibly mend their broken heart and understand the concept of "Ai" (A. I).

After finding this someone, they want to better themselves, become more reliable, someone who could be deserving of that love (Futari no Monogram). That love is returned to them and it feels a bit too much, but they're grateful that this person continues to stay by their side, despite being "broken" (Innocent Wind).

Like any relationship though, it was not just meant to be a sunshine filled story, they got into fights and arguements but that never deterred them from loving each other. Even during the moments they felt down or when he was scared of the passage of time, still uncertain about love, they still stuck with each other through thick and thin. And to understand these overflowing emotions, he wrote it into a song, a ballad, that sung the wishes of normal lovers and how with them, he can understand love. That he too, has that "something" on his chest (Mune no Kodou).

This emotional beat is followed by a happy and relaxing, definitely no underlying desires song about love (Synchronism).

being vague about the last one since I'll explain in each solo segment.

I think you guys get what I mean about the songs tying together to form a story by now right? Which is amazing to me, even if they most likely didn't do it on purpose, it gives a new meaning to listening to Ai's songs. Which make it even more fun to listen to.

So now onto each song and it's significance.

Winter Blossom

The first song by Ai is still as sad and beautiful as the first time I read the english translation~ I cried. This is a very straightforward song. They shared their last moments in winter.

To hide our kiss, we draw closer together to share warmth

and he wishes to God that he could feel the same emotions as her. She's about to go and he knows this, and he doesn't want to forget so he tries to stop his tears. He wants to remember this. Timeskip and he's all alone now with these memories. He doesn't think it's bad, no matter how sad it was, and yet he could only think about what else he could've done. He feels like he understands now, and he tells the words "I love you" even if she wasn't there, and his voice is only heard by the wind. He remembers the moment one last time, and makes a promise.

It's a tragedy that he only figured out what love is after she died. The song really moves me to tears. The hopeful message at the end is really nice and gives the listener a sense of encouragement.

A. I

Just lovers out on a vacation by the seaside. It starts off with him asking

“At what percentage does it become ‘love’?”

The night grows nearer, as you two get closer, and yet all he can feel is uncertainty. Unsure whether his feelings would reach or if he could ever truly express what he feels. Insecure about his own name, one he even called poor, you show him that there is a meaning to "AI". This fills him with happiness and he sees you as someone he can turn to, his warmth. He gives you a kiss. For now, in this moment, you will enjoy the time spent together, even if in the future you may fight. For now, even if he can't express to you all his feelings, the one word you taught him is enough. I love you.

I've always loved the play on words for A.I (artificial intelligence), Ai (love), and Ai (name) used for the song. See I don't understand Japanese writing much but I really wish I did. From what little I know it's amazing to see that Ai uses katakana アイ throughout the song. Katakana is used for loan words or when you want to emphasize something. So him using アイ instead of 愛 emphasizes that he REALLY doesn't understand "Ai". If you look through the wiki, there are like, 5 instances of the katakana being used. First is in the line highlighted above. Another is in "I want to confirm it, this thing you call ‘love’/tashikametai yo kimi no iu 'ai'" and the most important one. The last line of the song.

I ‘love’ you… I love you

AI shiteru... aishiteru

アイしてる…[[愛]]してる

He actually learns what it means you guys. I'm proud of him. Another line that really got me in this song is when he keeps peppering you kisses because he was anxious. Baby, no, I won't leave you. I swear! Even if it takes time for you to understand, I won't let go!

Futari no Monogram

Innocent Wind

Mune no Kodou

Synchronism

Actually, while I was writing this down, I realized that most of his songs have an emphasis on warmth and the sun.

Winter Blossom

To hide our kiss, we draw closer together to share warmth

These memories aren’t bad, they transform into warmth

A. I

Your hand held in mine is so warm

Your warmth, this tender sunny spot is my gentle place to return to

Innocent Wind

By the tenderness of your warmth

This warmth is beyond even words…

Also the word embrace

(Winter Blossom, Futari no Monogram, Innocent Wind)

and hand holding

he's cold you guys

.

Rant over!

Waaaaa I'm not sure I even did him justice since half the time I couldn't word out what I want to say but hopefully it made some sort of sense???? I just really love him and his songs that I just kinda word vomitted everything.

Also was it super obvious that I adore Mune no Kodou to bits?! I could talk about how that's my favorite song all day because FUCK it's just THAT good.

[rottenlightbulb]

In the rain with you

Xiao x M!Reader

Angst-ish? If you squint, hurt-comfort, idiots in love

Written with you/your so it can be read as nb (as far as i remember i made sure no gendered terms were used, if im wrong please let me know

Warnings: none?

Summary: Reader is an adventurer with no vision, during a certain bounty hunt he meets Xiao and buffoonery ensues.

This one has been in my drafts for a long long time, my writing has changed since then so just don't question it.

Today was no different than any other, waking up at an ungodly hour to venture into the wilderness and run an errand for a certain traveller while, of course, checking every nook and cranny in hopes of a hefty loot.

This time your destination was Cuijue slope, mostly to check around and find trails of a rumored lawachurl that has been set loose in the area. Not that you ever understood how these people find monsters as such in places where no one ever steps foot, but the promised mora was quite... nice, so you accepted witouth a second thought.

But then again, everything has its down sides, this time it was that as per the information provided, from who knows where might you add, elemental damage did no good against the lawachurl. Its hide might've evolved to deflect the effects of the elements and thus your friends would not be of much help.

Sometimes, not having a vision did have its advantages, though it also proved as a major disadvantage most times. People tended to disregard your skill when it came to dangerous missions, no higher than a C rank mission was ever handed to you. Not by any official that is, ever since you've met the famous traveller, and became their friend, they took notice of you and began taking you along for adventures.

Once reaching your destination you look for a place where you could leave your heavy baggage safely while scouting the area. From afar you see what is barely the remains of an old building but seems sturdy enough with some cover in case of rain, you decide it's the best place to stay considering the area around it is deserted unlike the rest of the possible shelters you came across, those were filled with hilichurls. While hilichurls were not a problem, abyss mages, samachurls and mitachurls did give you some difficulity, especially when there were more than one. Let's face it, getting trapped in a hydro bubble and then hit by a speedy geo shield miatchurl was painful and highly infuriating.

Upon approaching your temporary shelter you're greeted by the sight of two hilichurls, luckily they haven't taken notice of you yet so you opt to sneakily find out what types they were. Both seemed to be non elemental, which was good, searching them quickly you find one has a wooden shield and the other a crossbow. You sigh, the hilichurls still didn't notice your presence, gently as possible you lower your bag and unsheeth your sword. All it took were two quick strikes and they fell down before they could even grab their weapons.

After clearing out the place and setting your bag down inside you set out to track down the lawachurl. You had planty of time, they only expected you back three days from now anyway, so you took investigatin leasurely. And yet you've found more than enough clues by the time the sun started to set. Not feeling fatigued in the slightes you decide to take it a step further and find the exact spot the beats chose to dwell in.

In the eerie forest of tall glowing pillars you find the beast, to your surpise when you arrive it has already been engaged in battle but you couldn't make out with who. All you could take from the battle was that it indeed was immune to elemental damage and whoever was fighting it was either unaware or insane. None the less they were loosing badly and if nothing happens they might not see tomorrow.

Thre was no question, you will help. But, being a non vision user you had to rely more on tactics rather than charging in head first. You approach slowly from a safe distance while keeping an eye on the fight below. The lawachurl seemed barely damaged, its geo shield was fully intact while the vigilant stranger left speckles of blood whenever they landed. It was bad, you had to act quick.

Seeing as you were right above the two, you strained your eyes to find a weak spot on the shield. Once you have laid eyes on the slightest crack in the enemy's protection you empty your mind, worry will not help either way, your grip thightens on your sword as you throw yourself off the pillar, you keep your silence as you descend rapidly, a sneak attack is only that while the enemy doesnt know after all.

You land hard on top of the beast, the impact makes it stumble and roar in pain  once your sword has been sheated deep within its hide. You cling to your weapon for dear life as the lawachurl shakes its body in hopes of getting you off but you only thrust the blade deeper. The stranger who fought the beast before looks on from his spot on the ground in surprise, being able to see him from this close you realise it's Xiao, seeing his state you surely have things to say once the battle is won. You shout, adressing the beat up adeptus and warn him not to use his element, he looks puzzled but nods as he stands.

The shield slowly fades away and the shaking becomes more aggressive, you're almost thrown off time and time again but you hold on tight. Xiao charges in once more, this time without the power of anemo, and to his surprise his strikes do damage. The outcome of the battle has changed, and it's now set in stone. You jump off the beast's back and join Xiao, exchanging rapid blows untill the enemy fell and hit the ground with a loud thud.

You wipe away the sweat trickling down your face and look around for your friend finding him in a similarly exhausted state, he leaned onto his spear his mask still on, no doubt to hide his face from you, he always acted strong, but now, his body was shaking and injured. There was no way you'd play along this time. Thus you approach him and drape his arm over your shoulder witouth a word. He grunts but stays silent. After years of knowing you he knows he has no chnace once you've made up your mind and so he follows silently.

You arrive at your makeshift shelter amd bring the adeptus in lowering him down onto the ground before turning to your bag and starting to rummage through it. The silence has been broken by Xiao,

— What are you doing?— he rasps confused, you turn around with narrowed eyes staring him down before turning back to your bag with a sigh.

— Patching you up of course. I sure damn hope you know you can't say no.

—You mortals show less and less respect— he was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips, the unfamiliar feeling shutting him up successfully, you lean in closer and stare into his beautiful golden eyes, Xiao felt his face heat up slightly.

— Don't get me wrong, I do respect you. But as...your friend I'm worried for you. You should take better care of yourself.

Moving away you begin tending to his injuries, the silence is back altough broken by an ocassional hiss or grunt. Xiao has turned his head away long ago, he can't look at you, it makes him feel all farm and fuzzy and it's uncomfortable. And then there's the fact that he felt disappointed when you moved away from him, he craves your warmth but hes never going to admit it. Not untill he undershands why.

Sooner than he'd like you finish bandaging him and move to sit on the other side of the shelter leaning your head against the broken wall and staring out into the rain. Rain? When did it start raining, he never noticed. He was so fixated on the feeling of your fingers against his skin he completely forgot where you two were. He gulped and looked away, he didn't know if it was the lighting or the fatigue but you looked ethereal yet the look on your face made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Not being able to take the painful silence any longer he cleared his thoat,

— Name, what's wrong?

Surprised that he was the one to start conversation you stare at him untill he turns away from you and you've been left facing his back.

— Don't stare.

You can't help but chuckle and grin wide when you see him peek at you. With a shake of your head you sit up properly humming, the rain has picked up more now and thunder echoed in the distance. Seems like your stuck here for a while. Might as well make the best of it.

— Nothing is wrong, I'm just a little tired is all.

He turns to face you with the nastiest glare you've ever seen as he sneers,

— No.

You blink, tilting your head slightly out of confusion.

— No?

He nods closing his eyes and crossing his arms with a wince.

— Something is wrong, I can see that. You're not yourself. I'm asking one last time, what's wrong?

— That...sounded more like a demand, but who am I to decline. So make yourself comfortable, It's a long story.

— Fine, not like we can go anywhere in this weather.

You look at him puzzled, since when has bad weather bothered Xiao? But you decide not to ask. Rather you suck in a breath mustering up the courage to follow through.

— So... lately there has been someone I started to care about. Hmm, that doesn't quite cut it, let's say I'm anxious whenever we don't see each other for a while. I'm scared that one day he won't come back.

Xiao stays silent, something in him just won't let him speak. Hearing your voice be so weak and scared for someone else made him irritated and he didn't understand why.

— It's pointless to feel that way, if you're scared he'd leave you why bother?

His response was late and harsh, you could feel his irritation and thought you said something wrong. But that didn't mean his reply left you unhurt. Maybe he figured you out and was just playing along. The thought alone made your vision blur with tears.

You wanted to respond and defend yourself but couldn't, the suffocating feeling of supressing sobs prevented you from doing so. You bit your lip closing your eyes and burying your face into your knees hiding away from what's to come. After a while you manage to croak out a reply catching him off guard,

— Do you think he hates me now?

The sadness in your trembling voice was all it took for him to stand and rush to your side afraid you've hurt yourself. Only when seeing your tears did he realize he might've been too harsh. He felt awful and that made comforting you so much harder. He panicked for a second not knowing what to do when he remembered seeing a couple, one of them hugging the other while they cried.

Awkwardly he draped his arms around your shaking form pulling you closer. You look up at him seeing him avoid eyecontact.

— Xiao? What are you doing?

— What does it look like? I'm hugging you of course. Does it not help?

Realization hits you hard, he must've seen it somewhere and the fact he replicated it meant he must feel bad for you. A small smile tugged at your lips, you returned the hug burying your face in his chest.

Awkwardly he starts rubbing circles on your back and you finally relax a little.

— I don't think whoever this person is hates you.

— Huh?

— You asked me if I think he hates you, and I just told you. I don't think it's possible to hate you.

You feel your face burning up hoping he won't notice how fast your heart was beating you stay silent.

— But you have to tell me who it is.

— Why- Why would you want to know?

— So that I can keep an eye on him. If he ever hurts you I will be sure to visit him.

Your eyes widen and you fail to keep in your laughter. He looks down at you ready to let go and leave out of embarassement, but you hold onto him tight.

— I don't think that will be necessary.

— Are you saying you don't need me then?

— Of course not! But I don't want you to beat yourself up.

— I can assure you I- What?!

— It's you, idiot. I like you.

—...me?

— yes, you.

— Oh.

[scamanderishredmayniac]

Salamanders and Suitcases prompt challenge for Newt’s birthday event 2024: Day 1 - Far Off Countries!

Before I my caption properly little message. Please ignore the wonky writing. I don’t know why that didn’t come out straight, procreate went crazy when I copied and pasted a long piece of text from a word document app. I think it broke procreate, anyway it messed up big time. So please just ignore that and pretend it’s straight. If anyone knows how to fix that mess, then please let me know. All I wanted to do was add text to my picture. Honestly technology can be stupid some times, even if I do love it at other times.

Onto the picture then. Ok I initially started this years ago, maybe 2017? 2018? I can’t remember, think it was before I’d seen Crimes of Grindelwald anyway. I was inspired by some fan art I think it was MuggleNet who had posted them and I think I’d seen them there first; of an idea that what if Harry and Co had instagram? The illustrations were beautiful, and the captions were fun. So of course it was only natural that when I first saw Fantastic Beasts, I wanted to try one for Newt. But the thing with FB is that it doesn’t take place in school, so I couldn’t do a fun scene like the original illustrator who I’d been inspired by, I had to come up with something else; so I thought I’d do one with Newt and Frank instead. I don’t know why I thought of that, I was just stuck for ideas, and I just went with the first thing that came into my head. The instagram icons are the old version, because in the picture that I’d seen, they’d done the older version of instagram and I thought yeah why not? So there you have it.

Anyway it had been sitting in my drafts for years, I’d started it but got side tracked with other new projects and ideas so it just got buried and, I just couldn’t get back into it. But I decided I needed a kick in the backside to finish this, so I thought I’d enter it for this years Fantastic Beasts event that took place for Newt’s birthday instead. The event can be found on @salamandersandsuitcases profile.

For this prompt the word was Far Off Countries, so I thought it would actually be quite appropriate. Although essentially I had a different idea, but decided it was too difficult and would take too long to start from scratch, since I felt like I needed at least one piece of work up at least. And since I had this one half done, I thought it best to just go with it, besides I needed that kick up the backside to complete it, otherwise it could have been sitting there for another 100 years.

I hope you like it!! I’m actually quite pleased with it considering the colour palette got messed up because I selected comic strip, when selecting the canvas. Which apparently has a lighter colour palette than all the other ones. Well I didn’t know that till it was too late. Not to mention the wonky writing at the bottom. But I like it all the same. I hope you do too. Don’t forget to click that heart and reblog!

[arkhammaid]

How is your writer's block, I hope writing is easier now. Just wanted to say I was rereading a few of your works and have to say to say I love how different fem Charles and fem Oscar are from one another but both personalities make so much sense.

This is how I see them

Fem Oscar is reserved, single-minded, polite, silently ruthless. She could care less about what people think of her as all she thinks about is having the number 1.

Fem Charles in that comparison is much more calculated (not that Oscar can't be, it's just she does not have time for it in midst of crushing or dreaming about crushing the dreams of men), she uses people's love for her as another weapon, she is a planner (just like ferrari she probably has plan a to z).

Also although you haven't written fem Max I see her as someone who still has the FAFO attitude. She doesn't mind getting into fights (Also I have this headcanon that fem Max is very tall for a girl, probably like 5'9- 5'10, she absolutely towers over the men on the grid and she specifically wear heels to be even more taller because it leaves the men even more disgruntled, she loves it). she is unapologetic, probably claps back viciously at the journalist, giving the pr team headaches. In a way she is a product of the situations she faced (I sort of imagine that the 2016 grid who was not welcoming of the 17 years old Max is probably even more hostile to fem Max, also the media does not like her because she is not the woman in motorsports they wanted (someone less vicious, who pushes the boundaries only to certain extent, good but not that good).

And this ended up being an essay on fem Max lol, I guess I got all my jumbled thoughts out, although I don't know what point I was trying to make. Uhh sorry about this word vomit, now I am going to word vomit on my college assignment on Aristotle.

-😴 anon

my writer's block is... going. i started a new draft which will be the fic for a secret santa (and oh boy, both me and @starlightvelaris have signed up for that one so obviously we can't talk about it and it's fucking torture....) but i wasn't able to add anything to my previous drafts so honestly, i don't know :/

and to the other part,,, thank you sm for yapping, i will yap right back at you hehe

fem!oscar is just what you say. obsessed with winning, with being number one, not because it's winning but because it means that she is the best. she knows she's good, she knows she's one of the best, and no one can stop her from it.

fem!charles is a pr weapon. charles is already one, he knows how to play the game, how to charm people on and off camera, and as a woman that's even more important. charlie has spent her whole life building her image, hiding her ruthless side on track with a pretty smile and fooling people around her. it's her strategy, and it works, because she not only had a disadvantage when she was younger regarding money (which she was able to balance out thanks to connections) but also due to her gender.

and fem!max is just ruthless, brutally honest and doesn't hide it. she doesn't care that people hate her because their opinions don't influence her results, she has been raised as a winner and she is one. her father didn't want another daughter, he wanted a vicious racer and he raised one.

obviously, when she just joined the grid, they were really excluding her, thinking that 1. she won't stay long and is just a charity case and 2. is a woman. and sure, most drivers might now advocate for women in motorsport but max doesn't really play into the traditional image of a 'woman' so there would be at least one driver publicly shooting against her. not that she cares lmao

and the first years are definitely rough for rb pr, because max doesn't want to change and they can't force her to. when it becomes clear that she is here to stay, the hate just gets worse, actual reporters even going so far and asking insulting questions they would never dare to ask other (male) drivers. but, surprise surprise, the pandemic and the netflix documentation save her (and rb pr)

because in the end, fem!max is the definition of a gen z. zero fucks given, absolutely unapologetic and unafraid to call out bullshit. netflix tries to portray her as a villain but there are clips of max just fooling around and saying shit like "professional red bull driver? more like professional red bull drinker", showing that she has humor behind all that bite.

but still, actual media still tries to drag her through the mud, because they've been doing this for years now, but the internet? the internet loves her.

this is why i also believe that 2021 much more people would be on max's side, simply because her fanbase is much bigger and it would be generally a bigger thing. first female world champion and a world champion that just prevented from lewis hamilton to take the 8th one. dare i say iconic

[hyacinthi-mortem]

My half of the art trade for the amazing @neil-perrys-reincarnation!!!

So so sorry it took so long I've been super busy but in the end I really enjoyed writing this for you!

(And thank you smmm for the wizard!au art!!)

------------------------------------------------------------

This is the second one I wrote + the final piece-

Sort of hurt/comfort, hellton fluff, anderperry!!

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And he's falling, a soft blue sky is all he can see as he falls, and falls, and falls, and fa-

Todd startles awake, heart racing and hands clenched into fists as he pulls himself out of a nightmare, and stares at the ceiling.

'Why is it always falling?'

Every night since the play he'd had the same dream, instead of going back to Hellton, Neil would get in his fathers car, then Todd would run, tripping, stumbling, racing after Neil, and the floor would crumble until- until he fell.

The sound of snoring and a creaky bedframe shook him out of his thoughts, and as he glances over at Neil, Puck's crown hanging over his bed casts shadows over Neil's face, prickly thorns framing soft brown hair messed up throughout the night, and tangling with his reading glasses- a worn out copy of Keats on the bed beside him.

'How does he manage to fall asleep with those on every time?'

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Todd attempts to get up, wincing when the boards creak, but managing to make his way over to Neil nonetheless. Lifting the glasses from his face, Todd can't help but notice how Neil's pale face glows in the moonlight, the shadow of raindrops trickling down the windowpane casting tear tracks on his cheeks, even with the small reddish dents from his glasses pressed into his face he looks like a faerie prince of his own, something from Shakespeare's sonnets, so beautiful and still as Todd presses a soft kiss to his cheek with a smile, and brushes the hair from his eyes, such warm brown eyes, like whiskey, and sunlight, and-

He jumps back, stumbling to catch his balance as he registers that those eyes should be shut, peacefully drifting into sleep while Neil turns his head to face him.

"fuck, Neil I'm so sorry, I- I don't know what I was doing I'm tired and I-"

"Todd? Quiet, you'll wake everyone up."

Neil shakes his head sleepily and lifts a corner of the duvet, "c'mere, it's cold."

Todd's eyes widen and his breath hangs in the freezing air like smoke, voice shaking-

"what? Neil are you ok?"

"m'fine, just cold."

Todd takes a hesitant step forwards, a nervous smile on his lips as he crawls into Neil's bed and feels warm arms wrap around him; leaning into the embrace he sighs and curls in on himself.

'He's obviously tired, he's not thinking clearly, fucking hell Todd he's gonna hate you for this in the morning'

"Todd?"

He nods, a creeping sense of dread falling over him as he does, scared.

"Calm down, please"

Letting the warmth envelop him, one final thought leaves Todd's mind,

'I think I'm in love with him.'

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If you got this far then well done! You get to read my first draft :3

Hurt/comfort, sad!neil, anderperry

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Letting the door slam behind him, Neil storms into the room, tears trailing down reddened cheeks as he cries.

"Neil? Wait-"

Todd closes his journal as Neil stumbles towards the bed, the light streaming into the room reflecting off glistening teardrops as he falls onto the mattress, curled up and sobbing. "Fuck, hey what's wrong? You were only gone for twenty minutes," letting the book drop to the floor, he reaches over to pull Neil closer to him. Running his fingers through soft brown hair, Todd hums, a soft soothing sound that fills the room and softens Neil's sobs.

"Are you ok?"

Todd almost laughs at the stupidity of the question, but as he looks down at the boy in his arms he can feel his heart breaking, seeing something he never had before, the shell of a boy beside him a fraction of the bold and confident Neil he knew,.

"Hey, it's ok, I promise it'll be ok"

"It won't, h-he wants me out."

"What?"

"Away, away from here... away from you"

"What the fuck?"

'Mr Perry was always a bastard, a cold, stone-hearted bastard- and now he wants to take Neil from him? Fuck no.'

Lifting an arm, Todd wipes tears from Neil's face and leans back till his head hits the pillow, taking Neil with him.

"Calm now, he can't take you away from here"

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I love both of these, thanks for reading!! XD

[its-all-papaya]

hands on your keyboard cowboy i want to hear about the rest of your directors commentary pls !!! i LOVE the last landoscar convo in AN i absolutely need to hear more about it

likely place for you to be !!

(me, frothing at the mouth waiting for someone to ask me about this convo after I told you I was staying off tumblr for the rest of today)

ask me anything about my writing and read anybody, nowhere

OKAY. so. the LAST last scene of AN (fan stage) was like one of the very first things I wrote for that fic. I think the paragraph that starts "Lando's not online much these days" was first, followed by the Silverstone podium thing I used in the blurb, then it was fan stage. (Not to keep russian doll nesting asks, but the fan stage scene is a WHOLE other topic I could ramble about, I won't get into it too much here.) Anyway, other than those little anchors, I essentially just typed everything in chronological order and included what felt right when. So it was building in Lando's brain and building with Oscar and I KNEW I wanted it to end with the fan stage, so I KNEW I had to give some mental and emotional like... break? payoff? for Lando before then so that the fan stage would read like I wanted it to.

(break bc this got disguuuuusting long)

The other thing though is that I originally fucked up the Austria sprint finish order? So like 2/3 of the way through I realized I had to switch Lando and Oscar and that obviously like REALLY changed the entire tone of that passage and the bits right after, because the whole thing NOW is Lando getting beat by his teammate, but that super didn't exist until after I'd written all of Austria and started Silverstone. So I added the stuff about Lando battling Oscar and losing, and I loved it bc I think it gives the whole thing more depth, but then I was like... I need to write Lando out of this. I can't finish the fic without resolving the "Lando resents Oscar for beating him" plot-line. And I hadn't actually drafted anything for the last scene, but I had vague ideas of how it was gonna go that changed drastically when I started thinking about how to include some resolution for the on-track stuff.

SO. I'm done with the whole fic minus the conversation scene. We've had the Lewis Silverstone podium (probably my favorite part of the whole fic, and again, one of the original theses of it) and we're trying to get to the fan stage (probably my other favorite part) and I just like... sent Oscar to Lando's room with him? I didn't plan on all of their relationship development being in that one room, but I liked that it ended up that way because it felt really safe and contained for Lando, so I wanted them to get their payoff there, too. I don't really have anything to tell you about the first bit because it REALLY wrote itself. Like I was IN Lando's brain while writing this fic, all of his stuff was kind of me blind reacting to my own lead-up and then polishing it. Oscar was a bit harder to write, and this scene is the first time I felt like I had to actually make him like... do anything. Other than passively react to what Lando was doing. But even his dialogue just sat really right with me, and once I started the conversation it just felt really true to how they'd been all fic.

PAUSE for me to say I was so paranoid all fic too that I wasn't letting Oscar be enough of a real person with real emotions? I was like... some of these races sucked for Oscar too... ESPECIALLY silverstone... am I just going to make him Fix Lando anyway and not address his race? But THAT felt kind of true to Oscar too. Like he's not burdened the way Lando is and he at least seems to let things roll off easier, so I don't think it's OOC for him to not bring it up or be especially affected by it when Lando was a more pressing issue for him at the time.

Okay anyway. I really really loved the weird fight/not fight energy where Lando was fighting Oscar but Oscar just was not fighting back at all, like the one-sided argument was exactly what I wanted. I got through the part where Lando's like "I'm just not winning because I'm not" and then I got. So motherfucking stuck. Because at this point I'm like... okay. Lando has to give something back. We have to address Oscar's races. And I wrote the end of the convo no less than five times and it took probably three hours. I actually have a draft that I liked (I'll include it at the end) where they did address the Lando-hates-Oscar-beating-him thing, but then I had NO IDEA how to get them out of that. Like Lando admits that he hates losing to Oscar, but then wtf is Oscar supposed to say to that? Like... okay? Yeah? And I tried a bunch of stuff and hated it all, so I literally started a new word doc, dumped everything after "I'm just not winning because I'm not" in there, and started completely over from there in my actual WIP doc.

And from THERE I was like. You know what? We actually don't have to fix this for them? Like LANDO thinks this is a huge deal and makes him a horrible person, but does Oscar give a shit? Obviously they all hate losing to each other, that's like... the whole thing. Their whole goal is to beat everyone. So I was like "I'll indulge myself and just let them not deal with it right away" and I'd already written the "oscar's hand is out, palm up" paragraph for that original draft I liked, so I slotted her back in instead. And again, I am IN LANDO'S BRAIN, and I was like if EYE am thinking too much about how this conversation "should" go in a perfect world, Lando is DEFINITELY thinking about it. And I was like oh I need to stop thinking? Lando needs to stop thinking. And it sounds insane now because when I re-read the fic now, the through-line of Oscar calming Lando's thoughts is so so so obvious, but I promise that until writing "I need to stop thinking" it had never ever occurred to me that that's what Lando and Oscar's building relationship was doing for Lando the whole time.

Oh ALSO, in my original concept, they were never going to kiss because I felt like it would be forced bc I hadn't built to it enough. But once I hit on "I need to stop thinking" I was like OBVIOUSLY Oscar will kiss him to shut his silly brain up. Which, fun fact, is where "Lando isn’t even surprised. At any of it, really. It was always going to end up here" came from. It was just me, Soph, being like... oh. OBVIOUSLY THEY WERE ALWAYS GOING TO KISS.

So then I finished the kissing part and I was like... how will we get to fan stage for REAL. And I was still kind of worried about not resolving the on-track tension thing, so I was like... Lando is probably worried about that too! And the last "No, babe. That's your job." came to me straight from heaven or something, idk, but it was so perfect for ending the scene. Like I had spent HOURS AND HOURS worried about how to make them authentically address this and still stay soft and warm with each other and Lando's been panicking about it for eight straight days and we finally get the nerve to bring it up and Oscar is like "you silly silly goose, of course you hate losing to me!"

hahahahaha okay final notes then scene draft: as I said in the answered ask after I first decided to write AN2, I feel like I ended up with a version of this scene that was.... SO accidentally foreshadow-y of Hungary?? I was watching the team orders situation play out during that race and I felt like that dodgeball "the gift of prophecy" meme because I was like... holy fuck, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing that AN Lando was afraid of. The other note is that the line "we don't have to fix it right now, Lando" in the hollow hereafter is a direct result of my fight with this scene in AN and the topics of it. AN2 was destined, it's literally the only thing I can think of with the amount of weird pre-work I'd already done for a situation I didn't know was going to exist ever when I published AN????

oKAY THANKS FOR ASKING CLEARLY I HAD THOUGHTS!! Here are your demos/deleted drafts !!

this is how the austria sprint scene finished when I thought it was Lando P2, Oscar P3:

As he clasps Oscar’s gloved hand in parc fermé, he wishes for a blind second that it was a grand prix so he could remember how Oscar’s eyes looked squeezed against champagne spray up close. Then he remembers that place in the back of his mind and the ugly, twisted relief he felt passing his teammate for the final time, and he shoves the idea away. He doesn’t deserve that, either.

And this is how the final convo went when I was trying to make them discuss things (picks up after "It’s just me. I’m just not winning because I’m not.” and the rest of that paragraph didn't exist yet):

“We drive the same car,” Oscar says and Lando already knows he’s not going to like the rest, “and I’ve been qualifying like shit the whole month, too. It’s not just us out there. You know that. You’re being really hard on yourself.”

Lando remembers then that Oscar’d had his race ruined too. Worse, probably. Without a choice in the matter. And instead of wallowing he’s here comforting Lando, who should know better by now. Who should be better by now.

“I’ve been here three times as long as you,” he’s teetering on that precipice, deciding between anger and the other thing. “And I’m still making stupid mistakes. It’s worse because I should be better by now, and-” he stops. Considers.

“And?” Oscar prompts and Lando still can’t look at him.

“And you beat me. In Austria.” He says, quieter than anything since they’ve entered his room.

Oscar takes a breath so deep Lando can hear it. When he finally glances up, Oscar is already looking at him. His eyes still have that stupid warm, fond look in them and Lando’s afraid he’s going to do something dumb, like apologize, but instead what he says is “I beat you in Monaco.”

Lando scoffs, eyes back on his feet. “That wasn’t the same.”

“Why?” and he’s still asking like he doesn’t know the answers.

“Because it wasn’t, Oscar, people weren’t saying things in Monaco.” He’s losing the thread of the conversation a little bit, brain wrung dry from hours of thinking these things over, and it feels ten times harder to do it all out loud.

“Is this about what people are saying?” Oscar asks, then, and maybe they’ve both talked themselves in a bit of a knot.

“It’s not about anything.

“Lando,” Oscar says. “C’mere.”

His hand is out, palm up, and he’s taken his cap off at some point so his hair is messy and ruffled and he looks soft even though he’s got his damn polo neatly tucked in like always. He should be mad. Lando’s selfish, he’s so… he’s always taking what he shouldn’t from Oscar, but he goes anyway, puts his hand in Oscar’s and lets his teammate pull him down next to him on the bed.

“Are you upset about Austria?” he asks gently. He’d let go of Lando’s hand as soon as he was sitting, so his arm is free to curl around Lando’s waist, drag his palm up. Hip to ribs.

Lando sucks on the side of his thumb where it’s started to bleed. When he brings his hand to his face, it’s shaking a little. “Not…” he pauses, concedes, “Kind of. But not at you, I don’t think. I like when you do well.”

Oscar laughs a little and Lando’s eyebrows pull together, but it doesn’t feel mean. Lando’s not sure Oscar has a mean bone in his body when it comes to him, and that should be an issue, probably.

Oscar’s palm slides back down, ribs to hip.

“At what, then?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it.

And then I couldn't get them out of it so all that went to the graveyard! But I like the way it ended up, so I'm really really not mad about it.

KAY THX CHARLIE love u <3 if anybody else made it this far, ask about other scenes, I dare you >:)

[silcodependent]

Sway Chapter 7

Silco x Fem!Reader

4.2k words- Mature (but not explicit) 

Warnings: Light BDSM Vibes, Smoke Play, Suggestive Everything

Additional warning: I have doubted my ability to write so much lately that I was convinced that this would never see the light of day. It's mostly unedited but please know that If if had edited it would have stayed in the drafts folder for the rest of time. I want to tell this story, I know exactly where it's going and I'm excited but sometimes I wonder if I am capable of telling it well. So I'm putting this out here to keep me from waiting until it's perfect and posting nothing. I hope you like it and that there are other people who are still as obsessed with this little rat mat as I am.

Silco was bad for business. You knew this from the start but your small number of interactions relentlessly reminded you of this information. Last night was tantalizingly fun. Your dreams after caused you to uproot your whole routine and bumping into him during your practice time was now causing you to be late. The man was infuriating. Infuriating and dangerous.

He simply cannot be forgiven for the agony of inconveniences he is responsible for.

That thought was fresh on your mind when you tossed open your dressing room door to find a surprise that stopped you in your tracks; A single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it and a note.

You should be used to gifts from adoring fans but you always found surprises to be an eerie sign of something grim to come. This was no exception.

Placing your bag down on the opposite side of the counter you inspected the gift before you with learned skepticism, tentatively picking up the note and turning it over in your hand. It was addressed to you, your name scrawled beautifully in ink from a fountain over heavy weighted stationary. Expensive. 

You had been here before. It was enough to make you want to drop the note there with no regard to whatever message lay inside and pack your things as fast as you could.

But you weren’t running. You never ran. That was half of your problem. And even though there were things in your past that wanted to chase you, the likelihood of them finding you here was so small it was next to impossible. Right?

Beating back any other intrusive thoughts, you flipped open the card to reveal a single sentence.

“Thank you for the lovely performance. -Silco”

You stared at the letter in your hand in stunned disbelief for what would have been all night if Remy knocking at the door hadn’t pulled you back to reality.

“Good crowd tonight!” He exclaimed, poking his head through the crack in the door.

Remy’s eyes landed first on the note in your hand and then on the rose on the counter.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s nothing…Just a thank you note.” You’re certain that no one would fall for that performance but it didn’t stop you from trying. You placed the note back down on the counter and proceeded to get ready with haste. Silco was distracting you--again.

“Admirers already. I just wonder what took them this long.” Remy flashed that heart winning grin before disappearing back out the way he came but not before shouting back…

“Tonight’s going to be a great show!”

Remy was wonderful. He really was. Kind, supportive, friendly and he didn’t linger. Who could ask for anything more?

And you had a feeling he was right.

Once your first costume was on and makeup perfectly done, you picked up the rose and reveled in its sweet scent. Of the many stalls lining the streets of the Undercity you had never seen any flowers. Your fingers pulled the silk ribbon from its stem and tied it carefully around your neck. This choker was the perfect finishing touch to such an ensemble. 

Tonight was going to be a great show.

And it was - regardless of how your eyes searched the audience for a particular face each number, never finding it. 

The audience loved every moment. You even managed to create a new group of regulars out of a rowdy table of gentlemen that had posted up in the front row. Your crowd working skills were now rivaling your dancing and it certainly kept things fresh. But once the curtain fell you couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of disappointment. There was no denying that when you had strung that ribbon across your neck, you’d hope to share in a silent understanding. A small nod to your own Phantom that no one else who saw it would even notice. 

It had been a small thing, a silly thing but a mistake nonetheless and one you weren’t willing to repeat. Just another piece of evidence that Silco was distracting and eliciting sentiments that were out of bounds for how you lived your life. This pang of disappointment would serve as a perfect reminder of why you kept these rules in the first place. No investments.

And it did. Days turned to weeks and there was no sign of the infamous Eye of Zaun in the club or in your dreams. He was much harder to banish from your waking thoughts as his note still sat on the counter of your dressing room, but his absence aided you in that regard as well. You had stopped looking for his handsome features in the crowd all together. Life continued. You channeled your energy and debuted a new show with aplomb that had the audience on their feet night after night. It’s amazing what you could accomplish without any unnecessary distractions.

Your focus was at an all time high but that came with some…troubling observations. Silco’s people still came in without him but there was tension growing between them and your front row regulars, a group of three brothers. It was odd. Silco’s operation seemed to be far too big to take issue with these three nobody’s but you had noticed their minute changes in clothing and demeanor over the last couple weeks. They were certainly spending more and more money in the club each night as well. You knew that meant the heart of this dispute had to be business but the less you knew the better. It had already gotten so bad that Remy almost had to call security over a disagreement between the two groups. Things were escalating. 

Remy made every effort to work with them, keep things civil and make sure everyone was welcome here but enforced peace can only last for so long.

It was a slow night Monday night at the Sweet. You had come to show some face and perhaps try out a couple of new combinations on stage with the victrola as accompaniment. It didn’t surprise you at all to see Nox Kane, the youngest of the Kane brothers, occupying his usual table beside the stage. He was already past tipsy and barreling towards drunk with every passing moment. 

Each of the Kane brothers seemed to fancy you in their own way but Nox was the least subtle. All passion and impulse, no restraint--he was a bit of a live wire and often the source of much of the trouble between the two ‘gangs’. But after spending more than one evening talking with him in the club you saw that beneath his raw edges he was sweet, ambitious, devoted to his family, and committed to living life to the fullest. Young without a doubt, and his eldest brother intended to keep it that way. 

Gabriel, the eldest, had grown up working in the mines and was determined to save either of his brothers from such a fate, pushing them into factory work or anything else that kept them out of the fissures. He had opened to you about it once when he had first started coming to the club. The two of you polished off several bottles of champagne without any trouble and completely lost track of time laughing together as the club went from crowded to nearly empty. He told you about his brother’s and how he wanted to make sure that they never had to struggle to survive like he had in the early days. He also mentioned in vague terms that he was onto something now that would make it so none of them would have to go back to the factories, let alone the mines. That they would finally be given the better life he had always hoped and worked for. Gabriel’s green eyes were a light that night with the promise of the future. A future you were sure would have had a spot in it for you had you chosen to pursue it. His hand, warm and callused, had reached for yours that night, exposing the tattoos on his forearms, maps that detailed places he dreamed of going. You traced the letters of the city you fled lightly with your fingers down the veins of his arm, noticing how much more appealing they looked on his skin. He had eyed you so tenderly that night that the memory of it was surreal even now.

In the last city you lived in, someone like Gabriel would have left a trail of broken hearts longer than the Piltover bridge. Life here seemed crueler to its people but you suspected that someone as alluring as he was didn’t stay lonesome too long. Whether his stories and smiles were intended to cast a spell for the night or for longer you never found out. Gabriel kissed your hand as you parted that night and never pressed the issue again, but eagerly brought his brothers back every week since.

And like that, the Kane brothers were front and center for every performance. You always made it a point to spend time at their table after each show, so it was easy to notice the evolution. It had started humbly, a shirt that looked so new it could still have tags on it, then the pants to match, but over time there had been a shift in tone. Where there had been new clothes, simple and not thoroughly threadbare, now there were flashy new ensembles, jackets, hats, and jewelry. The bar tab seemed to grow each time they were in too and Nox was in every night.

Spared the hardships Gabriel had described, Nox was prone to enthusiasm, impetuousness, and excess, and tonight was no exception. So far he had asked you to marry him on twelve separate occasions, with a glance at his current state you sensed unlucky number 13 was mere moments away. Without Lucas and Gabriel to reign him in you wondered just how far this little display would go.

Before you had a chance to approach Nox, a loud BANG of Remy’s office door swinging into the wall with more force than you had ever seen froze you in your tracks. 

“Gabriel-!” Remy shouted as you saw Gabriel emerge, jaw set and tense, from Remy’s office. 

Remy called after him again but Gabriel ignored him, making a B-line to his brother and roughly pulling Nox to his feet before practically dragging him away. Gabreil brushed by you in his pursuit to the exit like you weren’t even there, his eyes empty and cold, so unlike the evening you had spent in his company. So unlike him. Nox’s hands reached from you but found no purchase as he was hauled away without so much as a word, Remy still calling after them. At least that was one problem you didn’t have to deal with tonight.

The exterior door slammed closed and they were gone, an uneasy silence stilling hanging in their wake.

You couldn’t help but stare at the scene before you, your mouth comically open in complete confusion at what you had seen. Remy hated to break the atmosphere of the club, hell--hated to raise his voice unless it was over the roar of the crowd. Something was wrong.

More movement caught your eye, as you quickly turned to spot another tall figure emerge from Remy’s office. It was Silco.

He stood in the doorway and looked disinterestedly after where Gabriel had made his exit. Remy let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, running his hands through his hair. His nervous tick.  

Remy disappeared back into his office with Silco for a brief moment. You could hear hurried exchanging of words, voices tinged with distress, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then you noticed the unmistakably cool even tones of Silco, filling in the gaps of your mental picture. A moment later they both exited Remy’s office, Silco with a nearly empty glass and Remy with his keys. He proceeded to lock the door behind him and hastily out the exit after Gabriel.

Whatever peace meeting this had been had gone poorly.

You couldn’t pull your eyes off of Silco and it wasn’t long until he noticed, his bicolored eyes locking with yours sent a jolt of electricity through your body but you didn’t look away. It wasn’t long until he took a seat in one of the back booths and you retrieved a bottle of bourbon to join him.

“Do you cause trouble everywhere you go or are we special?” You asked, brandishing the bottle of liquor in a bid for an invitation to sit. 

Silco flashed a sardonic smile in response to your words, but nodded toward the empty seat opposite of him anyway as he reached into his inside coat pocket for something you couldn’t see. Hopefully not a gun. That was a terrible joke to be shot over. 

“Rough night?” You asked in a hurry to distract him from your last comment as you uncorked the bottle and poured you both two fingers of the amber alcohol.

“You could say that.” He said, placing a silver cigarette case down on the table before returning his hands to his coat to find it’s companion; the lighter. “You keep the most interesting company.”

You knew he was referring to the Kane brothers, specifically Gabriel. But this was business and that was something you left to Remy. Keeping out of business is one of the things that made you successful in this industry. Behind the scenes Remy and you worked together to keep things running like a well oiled machine, but when it came to the ins and outs of client disputes, you kept to the safety of your rules of ignorance and neutrality.

“Not really.” You responded blandly. “I haven’t had any interesting company here in weeks.” Your eyes lingered heavily on him with the weight of your insinuation. 

The corner of Silco’s lips twitched upwards, “I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

Your eyes wandered back towards the door, patiently waiting for Remy to stroll in, the picture of cool confidence. But the door remained closed. 

 A sharp sound pulled your attention back to the present. Silco was holding a lighter to the end of a cigarette, his eyes freezing on you.

“Care to join me?” He asked around an inhale before exhaling the smoke above him and leaning back into the velvet of the booth. He really was a sight.

“Remy doesn’t like smoking in here.”

“Well, fortunately Remy’s not here.” Silco lifted the sleek elegant case in your direction. An offering. An invitation. 

“I’m the reason he doesn’t like it.”

This surprised Silco, he raises a curious eyebrow at you for further explanation.

“I quit a year ago. He doesn’t want me to be tempted back down that road.” Although he was making that rather difficult. If cigarettes always looked this good you would never have quit. Even the way Silco held his cigarette was refined, he was like every suave black and white movie you’d ever watched but there was something not quite right about the image. Something about it was out of place and spoiled it, something subtle but what?

Silco Indulged in another deep inhale staring lazily at the ceiling and you couldn’t help but watch as the svelt muscles in his neck moved around the smoke, fascinated by what must be happening below the knot of his tie.

“And how are you with temptation?”

Your eyes widened and you averted them into your glass as quickly as you could. If the pause wasn’t telling enough, you were sure your grip on the glass would be. 

“Well?”

Your eyes darted up to see the cigarette case, open now, in his hand again and a wave of relief fell over your body.

He was talking about the cigarettes. Wasn't he?

“Terrible.” You made no move to accept his offer. Silco’s eyes studied you, your words contrasting your actions. 

With little effort he blew his smoke across the table, meeting the skin of your face in soft swirling spirals that only aided in the clouding of your judgment. It was impossible not to drink in. Not to allow yourself this one small enjoyment from the buffet of poisonous delights. And he knew it.

The smirk lingering on his lips was just as irresistible. 

“I’ve always found a little indulgence now and then to be helpful to my mind.” Silco extended the offer of his own cigarette. And perhaps it was the nicotine that was causing your head to spin or the company but such delicious indulgence had to be tasted.

Your fingers lightly traced his as you turned his palm to face you and lowered my your lips to take a drag from the cigarette in between his fingers. It was dizzying and delicious indeed. Taking in the last of the inhale, you glanced up at him through your lashes to only find his eyes locked on you with a burning intensity. 

Releasing the cigarette from your lips, you allowed smoke to dribble out of you mouth before releasing it fully as you relaxed into the comfort of the cushions on the back of your seat. Silco stared openly, almost hungrily as you took your enjoyment and relaxation; eyes working over your mouth, your neck, your clavicle, your chest, then further down the rest of your body.

“Like my dress?” I asked, a wicked smile forming on your lips.

“You call that a dress?” 

He had a point. This dress was nude and intentionally tantalizing, covering the most interesting parts in sparkling crystals meant to allure equally as much as it obscured.

“What would you call it?”

“A trap.” 

You chuckled, reaching your hand out to his for another drag of his cigarette as he continued to study you. Silco was a mystery and there was no telling how far this game of cat and mouse would go. Your exhale came with more force this time, blowing smoke past his sharp features before offering the cigarette back. Silcos hand reached for your but instead of the cigarette you found his fingers firmly wrapped around your wrist. There was little doubt he noticed the small jolt of surprise he sent up your spine but he didn’t comment. Instead, he turned your wrist towards him and lowered his head to take a drag from your hand, exhaling his smoke inches from your face.  A perfect imitation. No, much better.

Smoke washed over your face and clouded your mind and your senses until there was only this. Only him. Pinned both literally and figuratively to spot he wanted. His instruction was clear as he held your wrist still and removed the cigarette from your hand, raising it to your lips. The fire behind his dual colored eyes was truly mesmerizing.  You held his gaze as you lowered your lips to enjoy another drag from his cigarette in sweet surrender.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes locked, breath hitching in your chest.

Danger. There was that neon sign again saying to run. --And it wasn’t the only thing turned on.

Silco is bad for business. Bad…so bad…

But it was impossible to deny the thrill that ran through you at the sound of his words. And if the sly gleam in his eyes was any indication, he knew it too.

The smoke exhaled slowly between your lips, your last tease as it swirled into the space between us. Neither of you able to look away. 

He raised the cigarette to his lips again, revealing the tail of a scar that traced its way up the left side of his face to join the others around his treacherous eye. Its glow nearly matching that of the cigarette in his hand. 

What happened to him?

No sooner had the thought occurred than it was chased away by the loud crashing of the front door into the wall of the club. It was Nox, even more intoxicated than last you’d seen him. He spoke loud and lively as he walked through the entryway, one arm heavy over Remy’s shoulder who seemed exasperated by the evening and the company. Truly a feat for someone so agreeable. One that immediately raised your concerns.

Silco was eyeing the same situation with a precise intensity that was impossible to describe or ignore. That same danger that had drawn you in earlier had sharpened somehow. That’s when it hit you: Silco was a knife. A dagger. A blade. 

He kept himself sheathed politely in most scenarios but there was no doubt about what was under the surface. You could draw it to butter your bread or slit a person's throat but the danger was there all the same. He was not soft or warm. He was sharp, cool, precise, and deadly.

Suddenly it gave you pause to interrupt whatever dark calculations he was making. 

“I probably should relieve Remy of Nox duty” You offered lightheartedly.

Slico cast that sharp look at you briefly before returning to watch Remy wiggle out from under Nox’s weight as he placed him gently into a barstool.

“Be careful with that one.”  Silco’s warning was just above a whisper and he didn’t even spare you a look as he said it. His attention was entirely focused on Nox.

“Nox is harmless” you chuckled. But the lingering look from Silco was starting to give you second thoughts. 

“We all start that way.” Silco muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. What was it that he saw in Nox that you didn’t? The question alone sent a shiver down your spine. Did you even want to know the answer?

Before you realized it Silco had gotten up from the booth and stood at the edge of the table, still watching Nox as he harassed the last bartender on duty for another drink. 

Your fingers involuntarily gripped the velvet cushions beneath you. Was this it?

God, please, not now. You thought so loudly you were afraid you’d accidentally said the words out loud. Another conflict might actually break Remy and you certainly weren't ready to see the kind of damage Silco could inflict that had earned him such a fearsome reputation. 

You released a shuddering breath into the still air, heavy with the weight of your fear/expectation. Silco turned to you, relieving your worry and composing his features back into the perfect gentleman you knew him as.  His long slender hand reached for his whiskey and took the remainder of his drink in one go before turning back to you.

“Thank you for providing a respite from the rest of this night.” He said in low tones that only the two of you could hear as he lifted your hand to his lips.

The warmth that started in your chest spread slowly to your cheeks with a gentle blush, then to the soft smile of your lips and finally down through your core to pool in between your legs. 

“But unfortunately I cannot put off my business any longer.”

You were sure Nox was safe tonight, that Silco would leave and busy himself with other concerns. But it was the leaving part that you found harder to grapple with, even if no one knew. He’d been gone so much recently, your time together seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

“So you say.” you sighed.

“Perhaps it’s my company that’s not interesting enough for you.”

Silco’s eyes narrowed at your remark. In a flash// with out warning, his grip on your hand changed, suddenly pulling you out of your seat and into him. A startled gasp escaped your lips as your chest collided with his. Long fingers slid skillfully over your hip and along your lower back. His other hand still held your wrist firmly. Provocatively. Both a statement of control and a dare for you to defy it. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you miss me, Ms. Sweet '' Silco whispered in a near purr, his nose pressing against the shell of your ear. Silco sent chills throughout your body that rivaled surgical precision. You couldn’t see his face, but there was an aire of arrogance about the way he held you that said he knew.

“Perhaps” You melted into him, making no moves to resist him. Your fight lay in another vein.

“But I’m not sure I can remember why anymore.”

His grip on you relaxed and you withdrew, it seemed as good of time as any to make your exit. Always better to leave with the last word. It wasn’t until you had turned your back that you felt his dark presence on you again.

“Are you asking for a reminder?” He punctuated his question with the press of his body against yours. His front to your back, with an unmistakable stiffness. That felt like a win.

“I’d hate to distract you from your work. It sounds very important.” You struggled to keep the sound of your smile out of your voice. Silco’s fingers were caressing your hip, almost as though he was debating something.

Without warning a loud BANG cut through the thick atmosphere of the club, stealing your attention away from Silco’s touch. That damn door again. A long line of fresh Academy recruits staggered their way to the bar with slurred celebration on their lips. 

“Unusual crowd tonight.” You commented into the empty air beside you. Silco was gone.

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

for the title ask game: We Were Gods (we were kids)

I want to hear more about that one, that's a riveting title! :eyes:

Ahhh yes, so originally this fic was inspired by the song Battle Cries by The Amazing Devil. It's a duet and like a divorce song? "This isn't a break-up, dearheart, it's a season finale!" I got the title from the lyrics where one part sings the line "We were gods" and then the other part echoes it with "We were kids" and that's just *chefs kiss* perfect fanfic title thank you TAD <333

The premise was childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to supers fighting on opposite sides to reluctant allies to (finally) lovers. And it was going to be a parkner fic (peter parker/harley keener). It was going to be an epic slow burn spanning nearly their whole lives.

Then I thought why not pry it out of its fanfic foundation and stand it on its own as an original concept? Harley is essentially my OC and Peter could be shaped into an OC too and the plot I had in mind had hardly any of the source material in it so why not? I'd just tweak some names, create my own super powers and aliens and then boom! Book!

Didn't work 🙃 I wrote a 110k draft and got to the end and was like wow this sucks. I half-assed the world building and tried to hang onto plot devices that just don't work outside the mcu (they don't even work within the mcu but I digress) SO now we're back to square one: making it a fanfic. Except it's not really square one because I have 110k that I need to snip and prune and repot back into a fic.

Actually it's more like 85k bc I have to re-write the beginning since I ended up keeping that part for my book, but the rest just needs reworked into something I like with the characters that we know and love plugged back in. It's going to be a massive revision project but not any more difficult than writing the thing lol

But anyway! It's going to feature super villain!Harley which I am very excited about. He is sooooo tortured in this one and Peter has the shittest luck in the whole world <333

I don't have a good excerpt to share so here is the high-level outline for part one!

Part 1: Childhood

Peter’s parents die in a plane crash. He moves to Rose Hill to live with Uncle Ben and Aunt May and meets Harley

Harley has his hands full with… his dad just walked out. He wasn’t abusive. It was just shocking and all at once. They thought something terrible happened, but after they report him missing Scotty at the corner store stops by and says he sold him scratchers. Then a few hours later the sheriff stops over with his hat in his hands and tells them his truck was found in the lot at the airport in Nashville. “Let him go,” Mama says. “Don’t want no man who don’t wanna be around. Let ‘im go.” And that was the end of that.

Peter arrives while Harley is getting used to being the only one home after school. Abbie’s off with Mrs. Farley in town while Mama works, so it’s just him most days ‘til Mama gets home around 5.

Starts hanging out with the Parkers. They keep him ‘round for dinner. Scares Mama the first time bc he didn’t ask ahead and wasn’t home when she got there. She demands to meet them.

They get on great and once they learn of her newly single situation they offer to watch Harley in the afternoons until she gets home from work. No need for payment or thank yous—it just so happens that Peter could really use a friend right now and they’ve been getting along so well.

So it begins. No creek. No pokemon. Peter and Aunt May clash like the dickens, but Uncle Ben is always cool and rational and settles things before they go too far. It’s nice.

Peter is obsessed with planes and tracking flights and researching news of lost flights, crashes, etc. Huge fear of flying, but not of heights. This fear stays with him, even when Harley turns into a flying superhero.

EJ is Harley’s bully. Harley is a talkative little nerd with a stutter and a penchant for mathematics. He attracts the mean types and Peter has a loud bark and never has had the good sense to back down from a fight. The shared battles cement them together.

After being blindsided by his dad leaving, Harley had to reevaluate everything he thought about family. Family is no longer who you get along with, despite differences. It’s no longer who you put on a smile for. It’s who you can disagree with and still hug and laugh with at the end of the day. It’s refreshing that he always knows where he stands with the Parkers. They have big feelings and they don’t bury them, but they’re solid. They’re dependable. They’re there.

Then the Parkers move to New York and leave Harley behind and his theory on what makes a family falls apart all over again.