#it really looked exactly like an old people guest room

[anim-ttrpgs]

Yeah many people just plain do not know that an adventure module can be something other than a completely linear script you follow.

Here��s a very old, very classic adventure module for classic D&D from my dad’s attic.

It has a map of the dungeon (as you will see, it is not a linear series of fights, it’s a complex location the party explores. That line drawn in pencil tracks the way the party happened to go when this was played, not the way they’re “supposed to go.”)

And it has a full fleshed out description of the rooms and different interesting and interactable things within the rooms. It has pre-statted monsters, traps, etc.. The party explores it and tries to get out alive with as much treasure as they can carry. You can also weave this into an ongoing campaign or a “story” - it’s “modular,” that’s the point of a "module." When I ran this for my group’s rotating-DM AD&D campaign, the party was hired to rescue three children who were kidnapped by goblins. The goblins had one, but the other two escaped and got lost in the not-goblin-controlled parts of the dungeon, requiring the party to explore every inch of it to find them.

Of course, this kind of module cannot be used for a “plotted” D&D campaign, because it is designed to quickly kill unwary characters. But if you’re wanting your PCs to have plot armor, you really should not be playing any edition of D&D. It’s not designed for plotted stories, it’s designed to be a game where shit happens that you then tell stories about later.

The party in our group did suffer some pretty severely bad injuries, but no deaths, because they’re a group of competent, capable, and careful mercenaries.

“But that’s a dungeon crawler, modules like that don’t work for non-dungeon-crawler games!”

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, an extremely non-dungeon-crawler game, has modules very much like this. In Eureka, the party doesn’t delve into dungeons, they talk to people, look for clues, and solve mysteries.

So, Eureka modules provide a “Truth” for the GM’s eyes only which lists exactly what happened that resulted in there being a mystery to solve, a “hook” for why the PCs would have gotten involved in trying to solve the mystery, and a set of relevant locations, often with maps. (The locations may be connected on a larger city/town/area maps but usually travel between the important locations is abstracted.)

The locations are given full descriptions, various points of interest that might be relevant to the investigation, info for the GM about what the PCs will find if they inspect those things properly, etc. They also include NPCs with visual and personality descriptions, lists of what information the NPC knows about the mystery, and how they might react to certain actions from the PCs.

Silk & Dagger: A Sensible Drow RPG is even less comparable to a dungeon-crawler than Eureka. It’s a interpersonal politics sitcom-y comedy game where a Drow Mistress and her pathetic minions try to keep up appearances in a cutthroat society where the social expectations are arcane, byzantine, and very high stakes. Reputation is everything.

Something will go wrong in the palace, and the party will have to hide that it is going wrong and act like everything is fine while impressing the neighbors.

A module for Silk & Dagger comes with a particular problem that’s going to happen in the palace and when and where in the palace it will happen, as well as a guest arriving and/or some other social obligation. It includes visual and personality descriptions for the NPCs, and how they will react to certain actions by the PCs.

These are games which are about three very very different kinds of characters and situations, and yet they all benefit from having adventure modules.

The more I think on it, and I know this greatly differs from what people have come to expect in recent years, but to me a TTRPG with no adventure modules is like booting up a video game and finding out the devs didn’t make any levels. Like I wanted to play this but I guess we’ll have to wait until someone in the group, who may have never played the game before, spends a not-insignificant amount of their free time in the level-editor throwing something together for us to play.

[cutielando]

family anew | lando norris

synopsis: in which you're not used to having a happy family, but Lando changes that for you

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

You had never really been one for family gatherings. Not because you didn’t like them, but because, well, you didn’t have the kind that people looked forward to.

Your relationship with your own family had been distant for as long as you could remember. Calls went unanswered, messages ignored, and when you did see them, the conversations were clipped and awkward, as if you were more of a familiar acquaintance than blood.

So when Lando invited you to meet his family, you hesitated.

“They really want to meet you,” he had said, excitement shining in his blue eyes.

He was lying next to you on the couch, fingers lazily playing with yours. “Mum’s already planning what to cook, and I’m pretty sure my sisters are going to bombard you with questions.”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your stomach twisted with unease. Meeting his family meant stepping into something unfamiliar—warmth, closeness, genuine care. It wasn’t something you were used to.

Lando seemed to notice your hesitation because his grip on your hand tightened.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you admitted, looking down. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll fit in.”

Lando’s brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated before saying,

“I’m just not used to that kind of family dynamic. My family isn’t exactly close.”

His expression softened even more.

“Then let mine be your family too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando’s childhood home was nothing short of stunning, but it wasn’t the size or the decor that caught your attention—it was the warmth. The second you stepped inside, you were enveloped in it, an energy so foreign yet comforting that it nearly took your breath away.

His mother, Cisca, was the first to greet you, pulling you into a hug before you could even process it.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. “Lando never stops talking about you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed softly, casting a glance at Lando, who merely grinned.

“It’s really nice to meet you too.”

His sisters, Flo and Cisca, were next, their enthusiasm making your nerves both spike and settle at the same time.

“So you’re the one stealing all of Lando’s attention,” Flo teased, elbowing him.

Cisca grinned. “Finally! Someone to keep him in check.”

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh God, here we go.”

You expected to feel out of place. Instead, you found yourself laughing, being pulled into conversations, and feeling something you couldn’t quite name.

Belonging.

♡♡♡♡♡

Dinner was a lively affair. The table was filled with home-cooked food, and the conversation flowed with ease. Lando’s family wasn’t just close—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. They told stories, teased one another, and included you in every bit of it.

“Lando was the clumsiest kid,” his mother was saying, eyes alight with amusement. “I swear, he ran into walls more times than I can count.”

“Mum,” Lando groaned, covering his face as his sisters burst into laughter.

Cisca grinned.

“Oh, don’t act embarrassed. You haven’t changed that much.”

You giggled, nudging him.

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Lando shot you a betrayed look, but you could see the happiness in his eyes. He wanted you to be part of this.

You wanted that too.

After dinner, you helped clear the table despite Cisca’s protests that you were a guest. Lando watched you from the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips as you chatted with his sisters while washing dishes.

“You fit right in,” he whispered later when he pulled you aside.

You wanted to believe that.

♡♡♡♡♡

Later that night, you found yourself in the living room, sitting beside Lando’s mother while she flipped through old photo albums. The stories she told filled in gaps you hadn’t realized existed, painting a picture of a childhood so vastly different from your own.

There were birthday parties filled with laughter, summer vacations spent together, Christmas mornings where the entire family piled onto the couch in matching pajamas.

Your fingers grazed a photo of Lando as a child, grinning wildly with a missing front tooth. He looked so happy.

“You didn’t grow up like this, did you?” Cisca asked gently, as if she already knew the answer.

You swallowed. “No.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand.

“Families aren’t just the ones we’re born into. Sometimes, we find them in places we least expect.”

Your eyes stung. No one had ever told you that before.

♡♡♡♡♡

It wasn’t until later that night that Lando found you outside on the patio, staring up at the sky, deep in thought. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You sighed, leaning into his warmth.

“I just… It’s so different from what I’m used to. Your family, they love each other so much. It’s… It’s amazing.”

He turned you around gently so you were facing him.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quiet. “It’s just hard to accept that kind of love when you’ve never had it.”

Lando cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“You deserve it. Every bit of it.”

Your throat tightened. “But what if I don’t fit in?”

He shook his head. “You already do. My mum loves you, my sisters adore you, and I—” He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly. “I love you.”

Your heart stilled. “You do?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, sure. “And love isn’t something you have to earn, alright? It’s given. Freely. You don’t have to be used to it—you just have to let yourself feel it.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something lighter, something warmer.

Maybe love wasn’t something you had to be afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, home wasn’t a place.

Maybe home was a person.

And maybe, just maybe, your home had curly hair, blue eyes, and a heart big enough to hold all the love you had been missing.

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Erik getting a prince albert piercing and not telling his girl until after he did it

Request: The Campbells have a barbecue for Bobby’s birthday and Erik invites you

Warnings: mention of piercing,

Fell in love with this man the second I saw him on screen. I'm so happy people want to read about him. This is exactly my type

—

Barbecues were a recurrent event at the Campbells. It was a great way of spending time together, and an opportunity for Howard to show off his skills behind the grill. He wouldn’t call himself a grill master, but he definitely was a pro burger-flipper.

You’ve gone to a few barbecues yourself since dating Erik. His family was endearingly chaotic — in the best ways. While the food was cooking, Julia and Erik would go on the trampoline and have a highest jump battle, like they did as children. Each time one of them would take a bad fall, Brenda would threaten to sell the trampoline, but never actually do it. 

Today’s barbecue was special though; it was Bobby’s birthday. Brenda hung a ‘happy birthday’ sign over the sliding door which matched the small bouquet of lavender balloons in the corner. 

You abandoned Julia and went inside to help Erik with the plates and cutlery. He’s been inside for over ten minutes, why was he taking so long? 

‘’Erik?’’ you called out, not seeing him in the kitchen. 

No answers. 

With a frown on your face, you checked the living room before making your way upstairs. The hallway at the top was lined with photos of the Campbells throughout the years, from baby photos to family vacations. You chuckled as you passed the one of  seven years old Erik with a toothless grin. He had fallen off his bike and broke his front teeth the weekend before picture day at school. 

Speaking of Erik, you heard a series of curses coming from his bedroom. You followed the sound and held a chuckle when you found him sitting on his bed, wrapping Bobby’s present with difficulty. 

‘’Need a hand?’’ 

Erik looked up as you entered his room and let out a sigh of frustration. ‘’This is sorcery.’’ He glared at the scotch tape and paper, as if it was their fault. ‘’Can I just put a bow on top and give it to him like that?’’ 

You rolled your eyes, dropping onto the bed beside him. ‘’Or you could admit defeat and let me take over.’’

He pushed the mess of paper toward you. It was ‘your problem’ now. ‘’Be my guest.’’ 

As you started smoothing out the paper, Erik shifted up the bed and flopped back against the pillows, and let a quiet, involuntary groan slip out.

It sounded painful, so you glanced over. “You good, babe?” 

Erik cleared his throat. “Fine.’’ 

‘’Did you hurt yourself fighting with Bobby over the controller again?’’ you asked, used to the Campbell siblings shenanigans. They played hardcore. 

‘’No.’’ The brunet hesitated, then continued. He intended to keep it a secret from you, but he couldn't see himself making up shit for the next four to six weeks. '’I just…I got my dick pierced two days ago. It’s sensitive.’’ 

You were used to Erik coming up with spontaneous body modifications projects and never actually getting them done. A month ago, he really wanted a tattoo of a certain metal band. He even made a sketch on his ipad, but forgot about it and moved to another idea…which he also didn’t get done. 

So when he told you that he got his dick pierced, you didn’t believe him. For one, it sounded extremely painful. And second, he always talked about it as a joke. 

You scoffed, folding a corner of the paper smoothly before taping it down. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he said, deadpan.

You looked up and squinted at him. “Erik, you can’t be serious.” 

That signature shit-eating grin spread across his face. The kind he wore whenever he was about to confess to something absolutely reckless. The one that always meant trouble. 

Suddenly, you were having doubts. 

“Dead serious.'’

He was serious. 

You shook your head, your lower stomach filling up with butterflies. “You’re insane.”

You meant it as a compliment. His recklessness was part of him, and you wouldn’t change it. Even if it made you want to tear his head off sometimes. 

‘’Want me to pull my pants down and show you?” He brought a hand down to his belt buckle, about to undo it, but you stopped him.

‘’Later.’’

—

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[peachyparkerr]

to be so lonely | patrick zweig x female reader

or marrying patrick zweig out of convenience <3

tags: fluff, marriage, kissing, talks of having kids, best friends to more, no use of y/n, not proofread so sorry but not, soft patrick because ik that man just needs some love and josh o'connor is softie and i said so

˳༄꠶ a little self indulgent fic because challengers nation will never die.

you'd like to tell yourself that you'd find someone to marry when there was a right person to marry. you'd also like to tell yourself that you weren't in a rush and you were perfectly fine being single or dating casually til that came. but of course, that wasn't good enough for your parents who were just itching to get you married off. they just wanted you to be taken care of, and they were so insistent on introducing you to some of their friends' sons, "just a few" they said. you didn't have the heart to tell them no.

that's how you find yourself here. hiding out in your childhood bedroom after talking to the umpteenth "eligible" bachelor from yet another, you'd lost count, party thrown by your parents just for this reason. these "eligible" bachelors weren't exactly the type of husband you were looking for. they were all full of themselves, too caught up in their jobs or alcohol, or just looking for a wife for the sake of being able to say they had one. you were getting fed up, and didn't know how many more men you could stomach talking to before your parents ended up arranging a marriage for you. that's why you were hiding up here, sitting on your bed, trying to wait out the party. anything to get a moment to breathe.

your solitude didn't last long until your door was opening. you hadn't expected to be found, but before you could stumble out whatever excuse came first as to why you were up there, you were met by the sight of a familiar tall, dark haired man appearing in your room. your childhood best friend and next door neighbor flashes his signature grin at you, and suddenly you can't help but feel so relieved.

"if it isn't the guest of honor. shouldn't you be entertaining another private equity investor?" patrick says, sporting his familiar smirk back at you, closing the door behind him.

"that or drowning out the sound of their voice by downing champagne." you laugh.

"oh you mean to tell me you're not fawning over these idiots? i'm shocked." he laughs sarcastically before sitting next to you on your bed. you make room for him and he settles him arm around you. "at least your parents are trying to give you options, i'll be lucky if i meet my future wife before they walk down the aisle."

"as if you're not meeting tons of women when you're playing tennis." you point out, poking his side.

"none that i like, none that i want to marry, and none that my parents would approve of anyway." he huffs. "call me crazy, but ideally i don't want to be married off to someone who just wants my money or my parents money."

"i get it. i have no interest in being a trophy wife yet that seems like all these guys my parents are trying to marry me off to. something just for show. is true love really that dead?" you sigh.

"maybe we just haven't found the right people yet." he says as he leans his head back against the headboard looking at you, waiting to see what you're going to say next.

"at least that's what i'm telling myself. i'm practically an old maid already. it's not long before i'm going to die alone, with no one to love me."

he scoffs at that. "now you're just being dramatic. you're not going to die alone, you're a catch."

"sure i am. that's why i'm only being offered up to assholes." you roll your eyes at his statement. you're being a little self deprecating, but you've had a long night. many nights, just like this one, in fact.

"anyone would be lucky to have you." he says, his expression serious looking down at you.

"in theory, sure, but...and I'm only saying this to you because you're my best friend... i'm genuinely afraid that no one's going to want to ever be with me and that i'll never find someone that values me enough to treat me like i'm actually deserving of love." you admit sadly, looking away from him and at your hands in your lap.

he moves from next to you to in front of you and forces your chin up to look at him.

"you are the smartest, kindest, and most beautiful person i know. you are deserving of the best love there is to offer. whoever marries you is the luckiest person in the world, hell i'd even marry you." he laughs but something in patrick's eyes almost has you convinced that he means every thing he says.

"you're just saying you'd marry me to make me feel better." you contradict but you can't help but feel your face flush at the way he spoke about you.

"i'm not because everything i said is true, and I know if I called my mom right now and told her I was marrying you she would cry tears of joy if it meant she gets to have you as a daughter in law. and now that i think about it..." his expression turns serious as he considers his next words but then he smiles big and genuine, "we should get married. for real."

"patrick, your mom has been pushing for us to get married since we were twelve, don't go joking around like that." you think he's being crazy and messing around like he always does.

"it's not a joke." his tone is serious but he's smiling. "why shouldn't we get married? we know each other better than anyone else, our parents would stop trying to set us up with horrible people, you get a husband and i get a wife. we won't die alone because we'd have each other."

"you're ridiculous. you're asking me to marry you, you realize that right?" you're completely taken aback by this. he's your best friend, has been since you guys were five years old, and suddenly he's propositioning you to marry him.

"i know i'm ridiculous, but you would be too if you turn me down. come on," he pulls your legs over his lap and scoots closer to you on the bed, grabbing your hands, "marry me. it's the best option."

you search his eyes for any sign of a lie. there is none.

"you're serious? you want to get married just because it's convenient? what are people gonna say about our fake marriage?" you question but your heart is just about beating out of your chest.

"not just because it's convenient. you're everything to me, and if marrying you means that i get to spend telling my best friend that every single day and making her feel like she's the universe's greatest gift to earth for the rest of my life, because she is, then why not? who cares if it's fake? nobody has to know anything other than that reason as an explanation of why we're getting married." he makes air quotations around fake but he's speaking tenderly.

"you don't even have a ring." you point out matter of factly, but you're smiling, and he is too because he knows that he's got you right where he wants you.

"i can get you a ring by tomorrow afternoon. but i'm assuming that's a yes? you gonna let me make you my wife?" he teases leaning in close.

"okay. i'll marry you patrick zweig." you smile and he throws his head back in celebration before kissing the top of your head.

you guys laugh in disbelief in what you guys just agreed to, but spend the rest of the party hiding up in your room talking about how you're gonna tell your parents and what your guys' wedding is gonna look like.

˳༄꠶

patrick keeps his word and shows up to your apartment with a ring the next day. you don't know how he managed to get the most beautiful ring you've ever seen in one day. you're in even more shock that it's exactly what you've always wanted. he slides it onto your finger with ease, and he's not surprised that it's a perfect fit. he thinks to himself that this ring he got for you looks right on your finger, like it's always belonged there. he intertwines your hands after, pressing a kiss to your knuckles wordlessly, before leading you to his car to take you to tell your guys' parents the news.

he doesn't leave your side the whole time, keeping a hand or an arm on you as if he can't be without touching you. your guys' parents cry tears of joy, like he said they would, and you play your part as the perfect fiancé with ease as they invite more and more people over to celebrate.

the parents don't hesitate to throw themselves into wedding planning and throw more parties in preparation. it's a lot really quick, but you don't seem to mind. he sees the way you light up looking through dumb magazines with your mom or how you smile when his dad breaks out pictures of patrick you'd never seen before. it makes patrick forget this is all technically fake.

patrick convinces you to move in with him shortly after. you try to protest, but he's already made the space for you.

"i can take over the guest room you know."

"no way. what kind of husband would i be if i made you take over that room? there's plenty of space here. besides, what will our parents think? we're supposed to be madly in love." he rolls his eyes as he insists, gesturing to the huge bed he has and the empty spots in his closet, but is trying to push down the thoughts of what it'll be like to have you close every night for what's supposed to be the rest of your lives.

"i'm just saying that as far as fake marriages go i wouldn't mind if you wanted me to sleep in the other room." you say with your hands on your hips, but sometimes saying out loud that it is a fake marriage, reminding you that it's not technically real, makes your stomach twist.

"but i want you here. i don't want you to sleep in the other room." he says with a pout, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. how could you say no now?

you don't put up a fight anymore, and he helps you put your stuff where it now belongs. when you go to sleep at night you both stick to your own sides. it stays that way for the first couple of months of living together, til one night you sleepily curl into him because you're cold and you can't sleep and he doesn't have thick enough blankets. he pulls you close because he runs warm, you fall asleep right away, with him falling asleep soon after. he's never slept better.

when you guys pick your wedding venue with both your moms there, he knows its the one from the way your eyes follow every detail and you hang onto every word of the tour. how you start to walk ahead of him and get excited. you finally turn to ask him what he thinks, but he's just about finished writing out the check for the deposit and handing it over to the person in charge. when he catches you looking at him, you smile and practically jump into his arms and kiss his cheek. he's never seen you so happy, and he's failing at fighting the way he's turning red.

˳༄꠶

after that the wedding starts to get closer and theres barely any time alone with all the celebrations and meetings and planning. sure, you guys get a moment to breathe back at your now shared place but usually fall asleep as soon as you get home these days. luckily, there is one fleeting moment where you guys escape to your childhood room once again.

your sat in his lap facing him as he sits up against the headboard, just trying to enjoy peace and quiet. he likes having you close like this, even if its supposed to be fake. you don't question it because part of you wants to believe he's always been touchy and you're still best friends. best friends that happen to be getting married.

after some time you remember something and sit up straighter.

"i almost forgot, i have something for you." you say breaking the silence and reaching over to your bedside table.

"you have something for me?" he asks curiously, his hands finding your waist to steady you. he watches as you pull a small box out and hold it out to him.

"open it." you instruct with a smile.

he raises an eyebrow at you, but you usher him to open it, and he can't resist you so he reluctantly pulls his hands away from your hips to take the box and open it. when he does, inside are cufflinks. but instead of ordinary ones, they're engraved, with his initials and yours. he feels his heart clench in his chest.

"wow...these are really nice." he manages to breathe out. it's the most thoughtful gift he's ever gotten from anyone.

"i thought you could wear them on the day you know and whenever you have special tennis events? i know we have wedding bands and you got me an engagement ring but i wanted to get you something special. something just for you." you say a little shy. he's done so much for you, and you guys aren't really ones to talk about feelings, but this can say more than words can.

"i love them." he says. i love you. he thinks.

you smile and he smiles back and you think that you could just kiss him right then and there. but before you can even finish the thought and convince yourself that you're making the right choice by not acting on it, suddenly your mom is calling you from downstairs to come help her with something. you both groan, but he tells you to go anyways. when you're gone, his heart is still beating out of his chest.

that night at your shared place when you're getting into bed he's quiet. he's beating himself up inside about how much he's in love with you and he can't say because this whole thing about fake marriage was his idea but he's going to marry you anyway and pretend everything's fine and have to be okay with that. how he should be bothered by questions like when are you guys gonna get a bigger place or have kids because it's way too soon, but he wants those things with you. he wants someone thats the best parts of both of you and looks like the perfect little mini version.

but of course you notice he's quiet. he's usually more outspoken, cocky and cracking jokes.

"are you okay?" you ask tentatively from your side, turning to him.

"oh... fine. just tired. " he faces you and the way you look at him so concerned, so caring, has him burning up, especially with the way he's lying through his teeth.

you reach out to him when you see how flushed he is, and you put the back of your hand on him to feel him and he's burning up. he burns up more, and you can't tell if you are too.

"you're burning up...maybe you're getting sick?" you're so concerned and you don't know if he's actually sick or if its something you did.

"maybe...i'm fine, though, really." he lies again.

"do you want me to sleep in the other room?" you suggest, not because you want to though, because not sleeping next to him almost is worse than him possibly being sick, but because you don't want to make anything worse.

"no!" he says a little too quickly and sharp. but he tries to cover it up. "stay."

you just nod and pull him close. he lets you, and immediately buries his head in your neck and breathes in the scent of your freshly washed hair. he's supposed to be strong and not so clingy like this, but the way he holds you tightly and instead of pulling away you rub his back makes him feel so weak.

you don't know what's wrong, and you don't want to make it worse or ask, so you just stay like that.

"you're okay. i got you, pat." you speak soft and sweet in his ear. and he believes you because he'd believe anything you'd say.

˳༄꠶

for the sake of tradition, you guys don't sleep in the same room the night of the rehearsal dinner/night before the wedding. and knowing this, you can't seem to keep hands off of each other the whole night. holding hands, his arm around your waist, your head resting on his shoulder. how are you guys are gonna kiss for the first time at the end of the aisle in front of all these people tomorrow and not lose your damn minds?

when parting ways for the night he hugs you tight, as if he's afraid he'll never see you again. he's also so nervous, not because he doesn't want to get married to you, but because how is he going to spend the rest of his life loving you and not tell you?

you hug him back just as tight, not wanting to admit you won't get any sleep without him next to you tonight.

"see you at our first look tomorrow." you say as you're about to part ways for the night.

"i can't wait to see your dress. do i get any hints on what it looks like?" he tries to joke to ease his aching heart.

"it's white." you joke back and laugh. he laughs too and you think it's the best sound in the whole world.

you guys reluctantly part ways, and as predicted, neither of you sleep a wink the whole night without each other.

tomorrow comes, and after he's all ready, he's shaking and fiddling with his cufflinks waiting for you to come out for the first look. and when he finally sees you walking towards him, he actually thinks his heart is going to explode.

you keep getting closer and your holding your breath but looking at nothing but him. and when you get closer his jaw actually goes slack.

"hi." you say softly and smile when his jaw is still dropped. you gently close it for him, and he melts a little

"hi. you look... wow... you're perfect." he manages to croak out, his voice suddenly stuck in his throat. you're always beautiful to him, but today, he swears he's seen an angel.

"i like your suit." you compliment and fix his bowtie for him hoping he can't see how your own hands are shaking. but he takes his hands and yours and looks at you for what feels like a long time until you realize he hasn't said anything. "what?"

"i love you." he blurts out. he barely realizes he's said it, but when he does his eyes widen and so do yours. he doesn't take it back tho. he just stares into your eyes and hopes you understand how much he really means it.

"you love me?" you whisper in disbelief. is this really happening?

"i love you. i'm in love with you." he confirms, trying to read your expression to see if you feel the same, if you're still going to go through with this wedding or if he's screwed it all up.

"i love you too. i'm in love with you too. " you admit quietly, feeling your mouth curve up into a smile.

he lets out a breath finally, and feels tears prick at his eyes and fall down his cheeks. you wipe them away.

"god, you have no idea how long i've wanted to say that." he rests his forehead against yours and pulls you close.

"great timing." you joke, putting your hands on his face. he laughs and you can feel his breath on your lips.

it feels like a weight has been lifted off both of your chests now that this is out in the open. suddenly you're both leaning in and your lips are inches away. he's cupping your jaw now, your eyes are locked on his. and when your guys' lips meet in a kiss for the first time in your entire lives, its soft and full of months of desire and unspoken feelings. it's reverent and its yours. he momentarily deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer if that's even possible, and you lose yourself in the passion before finally coming up for air. you're both grinning and out of breath but couldn't have asked for anything more.

and when you reach the end of the aisle a few short moments later, and he kisses you again, you both get to relish in the fact that this is real. that true love isn't dead and that the right person for them was right in front of them this entire time and will be for the rest of their lives.

i haven't written a fic in YEARS but i had a bad day today so #yea

art fanfic here!

[pneumaticshift]

Hiiii I wonder if you take batman justice league requests? If so:

Yk those "Batman gets de aged in front of the JLA" fics? Well let me raise you one:

A meeting with the JLAs primary benefactor, Bruce Wayne, goes wrong when a magician (of some sort) attacks, and so they find themselves with a Bruce Wayne who is 20 years (or so) younger than he should be.

Anf they're all like "who is this angry emo teen and what happened to the flirty bimbo that was just here."

It would be even funnier if Bruce hears about a Batman and just goes "yes that's obviously me only i could pull that off" because he's been daydreaming about bat-themed escapades since his teen years

bonus points if he immediately recognises Green Arrow ("i told you to cut off that fugly beard ages ago, Ollie,") and starts fangirling over Hal ;)

I love your Best Laid Plans series btw! You're such a great writer. This is genuinely the only series I've been actively obsessed with in a good WHILE.

Love,

Anon who probably will return to annoy you.

First of all, thank you!! 💚 Compliments like this really mean a lot to me, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the series. 

And yes! I do take Justice League requests! I tried to get all your ideas crammed in there. It’s not as shippy as I was gonna make it (I wrote too much lol), but I sprinkled a smidge of a hint in there. Just a whisper. A gentle nudge. A wink from across the room. Hope you like it! 

———

It turned out that young Bruce Wayne was feral 

Not in the way rich kids thought they were when they slummed it for a summer. That faux-rebellion that came with backpacking through Europe with their parent’s black card, or spending a weekend at some overpriced retreat to find themselves.

This was actual feral. The kind of feral where he had dirt under his fingernails and wide eyes that looked for exits before they looked at people. The kind of feral where he knew exactly where to jam a shiv between Ollie’s ribs to make it count.  

Which, as it turned out, was currently very relevant information.

“This is fine,” Ollie choked out.

Ollie was a liar.

His face was turning an alarming shade of purple, which clashed spectacularly with the green of his costume. There was an arn locked too-tightly around his neck and there was, of all things, a homemade shiv pressed against the vulnerable stretch of his throat. 

It all started in Gotham, because that’s where most bad things happened. Some charity auction that had featured a plethora of ancient artefacts from exceedingly questionable sources. And because Gothamites had the distinct inability to leave cursed objects where they belonged, it was only a matter of time before one of the objects went wild. 

No one could quite agree on what triggered it. Hal was pretty sure it was the plump statue of an old eldritch matron, Diana swore it was the ancient scroll of indistinguishable language, and Ollie was confident the auctioneer had muttered something that sounded just enough like an incantation. Whatever it was — and they had already contacted some magic users to find out — the end result had been the same. 

Brucie Wayne. Handsome, vapid, as sharp as a marshmallow, had finished in a puff of old magic. And in his place…

Well, something that very much wasn’t like the Brucie the world knew and loved. Barefoot. Wild-eyed. Unkempt hair falling into his eyes and a patchy beard that was trying itself best, but wasn’t quite past puberty enough to be full. He took three very menacing steps forward before he dropped unconscious. Hard. Because he had been standing on stage at the time and had straight up fallen off when his senses failed him. 

Clark Kent and Oliver Queen, two guests in attendance, had been the only two that had not been herded out by the League when they answered the call for aid. They helped keep the peace, assuring the good people of Gotham that yes, everything was fine, no need to panic, they’re all in good hands.

And in return, those same good people of Gotham had just sneered, ordered the League to take care of their beloved Brucie, and then spat on them for not being Batman. Because this city was the worst. 

Now, instead of waking up all confused and docile and flirtatiously grateful for the assistance — you know, like the Brucie Wayne they had all met before — they had come to realise that there had been a lot of misinformation about what Bruce Wayne got up to in his youth. 

Twenty years younger than the man they read about in the tabloids, he had immediately reverted to something neolithic. He produced a goddamn shiv from his waistband and launched himself with the kind of fight-or-flight response that suggested he had a lot of experience choosing fight.

Ollie had been the closest. Which was unfortunate for Ollie. 

He was taken by surprise, and that was fair enough. Absolutely nobody in the room could have expected this level of violence from a man who, as far as the world was concerned, spent his formative years travelling the hotspots of the world to partake in the traditional aforementioned rich kid mission to find himself. 

Hal was the first to step up. “You wanna drop Robin Hood before I drop you, kid?” he said, clearly considering that maybe this was the moment to introduce Gotham’s favorite trust fund baby to the concept of a green energy muzzle.

“Easy, easy,” Clark tried, deliberately stepping in front of Hal. “No one's gonna hurt you. We just want to help."

Young Bruce did not look convinced. And maybe that was fair. From his perspective, he’d just woken up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people he didn’t know. He was being threatened by a man in a glowing green onesie, and coddled by one with his underpants over the top of his outerpants. 

“Who the hell are you people?” he snapped. 

“We are the Justice League,” Diana said, smiling gently. “We mean you no harm, my young friend. You’ve been in an accident and we’re here to help you.” She raised a placating hand. Calm, but not condescending. They probably should have let her deal with it from the beginning. “You may keep your weapon, if you’d like. But I’d ask you to release our friend. On my honour, we are not your enemy.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and he scanned Diana in the same way a soldier would, and she let him look. She stayed still, perfectly patient, while Bruce flickered over her stance, her posture, her weapons, the slight in weight that meant she was ready. Not aggressive, just prepared.

Then his eyes moved to Clark, to Hal, to Barry, and back again. Something about them, or about Diana at least,  must have registered as safe, because after a tense moment, Bruce’s grip on Ollie loosened. Which of course Oliver immediately took advantage of. 

He took a deep, careful breath and stepped away with all the forced casualness of a man who definitely did not just get overwhelmed by an eighteen-year-old, barefooted, trust fund baby. His neck absolutely wasn’t throbbing, and he definitely wasn’t resisting the urge to rub at it petulantly. Nope, everything was fine. 

So fine, in fact, that he joined the League’s line, crossed his arms and straightened his shoulders like he hadn’t just been manhandled by someone whose primary tabloid reputation was for shirtless boat parties.

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark started, stepping forward. Bruce didn’t look at him. His gaze was firmly locked onto Oliver with a stare so scrutinising that it could’ve burnt. He was really looking now, like he’d only just registered Ollie as a person rather than an obstacle. “You’ve been hit by… Well, we’re not sure what exactly. We’ve contacted a few people who can help, but from what we know already, we think you’ve—”

“I’ve been sent to the future,” Bruce said flatly. There was a crack in his voice that could have been nervousness covered up by the entirely blank way he stared at them. 

There was a long pause as the League collectively processed that particular statement. Hal looked at Barry. Barry looked at Clark. Clark looked at Diana. And Diana beamed brightly like she always suspected that Bruce Wayne had more than two brain cells to rub together and had finally been handed the means to prove it. 

“Okay, hold on now,” Hal said. “How the hell is that your first conclusion? You wake up in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by people you don’t know, and instead of assuming kidnapping or drug-induced hallucination or even just being really, really drunk, your first thought is time travel?”

Bruce’s eyes drifted over to Hal’s face, then lower to the logo on his suit and the ring on his finger. “Yeah.” He cocked his head. “Are you a Green Lantern?”

Hal blinked. “Uh, yeah?

The kid kept his eyes on Hal for a moment as he processed that while everyone else tried to make sense of his insane deductive skills. “We’re not saying you’re wrong,” Barry said, “but how did you even know? I mean, time travel isn’t exactly the default assumption.”

Bruce looked away from Hal and instead swept his gaze over the room. His eyes landed on a sleek, modern console with a WayneTech insignia embossed on the side. He jerked his chin towards it like someone who had just found undeniable proof that the world was, in fact, very stupid and he was the only one paying attention.

“That model doesn’t exist yet,” he said. “The closest working prototype was three years away from launch when I left Gotham. All the WayneTech in this room uses materials that aren’t aren’t widely available yet. It’s all too streamlined. Things like this only exist in concept journals.” 

“But that could mean anything,” Clark said, but he was eyeing the WayneTech like he was trying to remember what it looked like twenty years ago. 

“And you,” Bruce continued, snapping back to Oliver.

Ollie straightened up instinctively. “Me? What about me?”

“You have a goatee.”

“Uh. Yeah?”

The kid’s expression darkened with such absolute disappointment that it was almost tangible. Like he was cataloguing every single one of Ollie’s life choices and finding them completely lacking. Bruce shook his head slowly. “You had so much potential.”

Ollie made a noise of offense. "Listen, you little punk, I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his perfectly respectable facial hair. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I do, I’m not blind,” Bruce muttered. He seemed to be accepting of the situation enough to have dropped his defensive hand without letting go of the shiv. “Judging by your age, I’d say I’ve gone forward between twenty and twenty-five years. Judging by your facial hair, you’ve clearly not experience any mental development beyond—”

“You wanna go, kid?”

Bruce, with the unkempt wildman hair of someone who had been travelling rough for over a year, flicked his bangs out of his face like a little teenage bitch. “As if you could kick my ass, Queen.”

Oliver didn’t choke on air, but it was a very near thing. He kept his composure, sucked in a sharp inhale, and said, "What did you just call me?"

“Your name?”

"That is not public information!"

Bruce blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay!?" Ollie’s voice went slightly high-pitched. "How do you know that!? Does the adult version of you know?”

“Probably.”

"You’d have to ask him when he’s back to normal,” Clark said, but he was looking at Bruce with the very specific grimace of a man who didn't want to say too much just in case the kid would somehow be able to divine his identity too. Clark dealt with Bruce Wayne a lot as a reporter, he couldn’t risk it.

"Oh my God." Ollie scrubbed a hand down his face. "He’s known all this time, hasn’t he?”

Apparently, young Bruce had decided that Ollie was no longer worth his time. His assessment had been made, his conclusion reached (disappointment) and so had moved on. He barely even looked at Clark. His inner Gotham survival instincts had automatically detected Metropolis all over him and deemed him irrelevant. Diana and Barry got a slightly longer look. A tilt of his head as he clocked Diana’s armour and the lasso, and a thoughtful hum at Barry’s full-body suit clearly designed for speed. 

But it was Hal, somehow, that got his full attention. Bruce stared at him, at the glowing logo on his chest, and made no moves to make it subtle. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Hal bit out. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you got a crush."

Because young Bruce Wayne had the mental fortitude of a brick wall, apparently (which was insane, because this man was supposed to be peak himbo), he didn’t rise to the bait. He just stayed quiet, almost like he had something to say but was uncertain on how to bring it up. 

Hal had the ego the size of one of his jets and he’d seen this kind of look before. Usually on the kids who looked up to heroes and didn’t see any of the bad things that came with being someone who wielded extraordinary power. Usually on the fans. The kind of fans who had posters and encyclopaedic knowledge and way too much enthusiasm for whatever it was they were into. 

But the difference was, little Bruce wasn’t some starstruck kid who wanted an autograph. This was the intense, calculating scrutiny of someone who had just been confronted with a living, breathing legend they weren’t prepared to meet. For the first time since he’d de-aged, Bruce actually looked like a teenager.

“The suit is different,” Bruce noted, almost awkwardly. 

Hal grinned. He might have been the greatest Green Lantern, but he wasn’t the first. It had been a while since someone actually knew about Alan Scott. “Yeah,” he said, glancing down at the glowing emblem on his chest. “Different Lantern, different look. You a fan?”

Bruce hesitated, which was honestly adorable, because for all his I’ve been in a fight and I know exactly where to stab a man energy, he was still just a teenager. And, apparently, the idea of being caught liking something was so deeply offensive to him that he had to physically restrain himself from reacting. He recovered fast. Way too fast for a kid his age. The brief flicker of something genuine was gone in an instant, replaced with careful neutrality that was vaguely familiar. 

“I respect it,” he said stiffly, like he was dictating a press release rather than responding like a normal human being. “Green Lantern was the first hero I ever read about.”

 “So, you are a fan.”

Bruce blushed. Not completely, he didn’t flush completely red and start steaming at the ears, but his ears peppered a pale pink. He briefly looked away before snapping his gaze right back to stave off weakness. 

“I’m—” He stopped, exhaled through his nose, then squared his shoulders like he was preparing for war. “He protected Gotham when no one else would. When no one could.” His fingers flexed slightly, like he was gripping at something that wasn’t there. “That matters.”

Hal, still gleefully processing the fact that this angry version of Bruce Wayne had absolutely been a Green Lantern fanboy at some point in his life, let himself enjoy it for a second longer before Clark cleared his throat.

“Speaking of Gotham,” he said carefully, glancing at the others, “we should probably contact Batman. He’ll want to know what’s going on here, since Bruce is technically his problem.”

Having controlled his expression enough to stop blushing, Bruce had deliberately turned himself away from everyone and was now examining Hal’s ring. (Like a fanboy.) “What can Spooky do?” Hal asked. “He’s just gonna be pissed that we took the kid out of the city. Let's just get it fixed and let him know later.”

“He’ll need to know if there are cursed artefacts being circulated,” Diana said. “And I imagine that time displacement is not the only thing he will need to worry about.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah, this has gotta be more than just temporal problems,” he said, frowning in Bruce’s general direction. “He’s nothing like Bruce Wayne. I’m thinking there’s been a universe switcheroo.”

“Multiversal doppelganger,” Barry agreed.

Bruce didn’t respond to those allegations, but he did say, “This Batman person operates Gotham?”

“Yeah,” Hal replied. “After your Green Lantern left, someone had to pick up the slack. Spooky gets real pissy if anyone else steps in on his turf. You’ve probably met him. Well, you will. In about twenty years or so.”

“Mm. No. He won’t be available right now,” Bruce said decidedly. He looked up. “I have a friend who can do magic. She’ll be able to help, assuming my future self is still in contact with her.”

Diana cocked her head at Bruce. “Why would you assume he would be unavailable?” she asked. 

“I’d think that would be obvious,” he replied. He looked at the blank expressions around him and rolled his eyes. “Think about it. If this person is as territorial as you say, then he would have already been aware of whatever was happening in Gotham. And if not, then news would have already spread and he would have contacted you all to confirm it. This is assuming you’re all a part of the same team, of course. With the amount of WayneTech around, Gotham definitely has a lot of input in your work, so I imagine you’ve got to be working with her vigilante.”

“That’s very astute.”

“If Batman is not here, then he’s either ignoring the issue, or he’s indisposed. I’m inclined to believe the latter.” Bruce looked at Oliver. “Did you ever wonder why I dropped out of school to go travelling?”

“I figured you were still grieving and needed time to yourself.”

Bruce bristled a little, almost like he didn’t expect to be called out on that. “I left because Gotham needed me to,” he said. 

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The pieces were all there. Scattered, sure, but if they were smart enough to put on their capes the right way around, then they were smart enough to figure it out. Hell, he had managed to figure it out, and he’d only been in this future for about twenty minutes. 

Diana watched him with knowing eyes like she had figured it out the moment he turned up as this angry ball of vengeance instead of the delicate heir with a silver spoon up his butt. The others took a little longer to catch up, but they’d get there eventually. Clark’s expression was already beginning to change to one of wild disbelief, while Ollie had gone completely blank like he was struggling to compute. 

Before anyone could say anything, before the trampling elephant in the room could be addressed with the appropriate amount of what the actual hell, before someone (most likely Hal) said something incredibly obnoxious, the air rippled and the deus ex machina descended. 

Magic, thick and tangible, swept through the room like the universe itself let out a sigh of relief, and Zatanna Zatara stepped into existence with the kind of exasperation of someone who had been called far too often to deal with the League’s magical problems. She scanned the room without saying anything before her gaze landed on Bruce. Barefoot, feral, still holding a shiv like it was an extension of his hand. She sighed. 

“Of course it would be you,” she said, but she was smiling as she said it. 

“Can you fix this?” Clark asked without taking his eyes off Bruce. 

“Yeah,” Zatanna nodded. 

“And it’s actually gonna be the Bruce from this universe, right?” Ollie put in, unnerved. “We’re not gonna get a whole different Wayne? Because he’s implied something really big and I don’t think I can mentally take it if it’s true.”

“Oh, he’ll be the same Bruce Wayne, alright.” She turned back to the kid, lowering her voice slightly. “Maybe you’ll just know him a little better now.

Bruce didn’t react, but the air shifted around him, like he knew exactly what she meant and didn’t particularly appreciate it. Then, with a flick of her fingers and a gentle incantation, the world twisted with a shimmer of glowing energy, reality bending in on itself— And just like that, they were gone.

An incredibly weighted, knowing silence settled over the Watchtower. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Hal clapped his hands together and turned to the others with the slow, self-satisfied grin of someone who just found out something hilarious. 

“So.” He raised an eyebrow. “That was Batman, right?”

[goldenroutledge]

serendipity

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i'm telling you all of a sudden, but it isn't new with me. i love you. ❜

summary: fluff. in which daniel doesn’t bother to hide his feelings anymore.

a/n: for the lovely @katsu28! thank you so much for requesting <3

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“If you don’t mind me saying, you two make a beautiful couple!” An older woman stops in her tracks to do a double take of you and Daniel dressed to the nines, blending in with the rest of the wedding guests decorated in black tie. Maybe it was the way you brushed a few bread crumbs from his beard or the way he draped his arm around the back of your chair during the meal that made you two appear like any other couple in the room.

“Us?” You question, looking around just to be sure her comment is directed towards you. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time someone made this mistake. “We’re not-”

“Why, thank you!” Daniel interrupts, giddy as ever as he raises his glass. “She is quite the beauty, isn’t she? Makes up for the two of us, I’d say.” Your heart flutters under his gaze, one that’s convincingly lovestruck. He gently squeezes your waist to drive it home, pulling you close.

“Oh, stop it. I don’t think anyone can look bad in Venice, must be something in the water.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling.” Daniel muses, turning his attention back to the woman as she smiles fondly. “So humble, this one.”

“You’ll have to excuse him, he’s still suffering from some whiplash and needs his eyes checked.”

“Please, my eyes have never deceived me when it comes to you. You’re stunning.” His tone is sincere, and if you didn’t know he was putting on a charade, you’d believe him. Still, your cheeks are growing undeniably warm, regardless if he actually means it or not. Daniel’s always been a flirt.

“Just trying to keep up with you.”

“Maybe you two will be next.” The woman wonders out loud, a playful glint in her eyes as she winks at Daniel, leaving the two of you to enjoy the reception. He doesn’t miss a beat, feeling no need to acknowledge what just happened.

You, however, can’t brush this one under the rug. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” Daniel questions, playing clueless.

“Either I hit my head earlier or you just told that lady we’re a couple. You do realize you just lied to an old lady right?”

“I prefer the term method acting.” Daniel quips, all the more amused at your very unamused expression. “Come on, two great looking people together at a wedding? My jacket matches your dress? We’re not exactly avoiding the assumptions.”

“And that was purely coincidence, might I remind you.”

Daniel rolls his eyes playfully at your recollection of the morning. The look on your face when you first realized the matching colors was priceless. It won’t be the last stunt he pulls off, for now he’ll let you believe it really was a coincidence. “Oh please, you love it.”

You shrug, indifferent to what he’s insinuating. At least that’s what you hope he receives from it. Internally you wince every time you have to shut down his relentless positivity with another cold shoulder. “Your performance was convincing, I’ll give you that.”

“Just don’t wanna let anyone down. She’s not the first person to say something y’know, we might as well just accept our fate now.”

You avoid his eyes, finding the drink in your glass to be the safer of the two options. Whenever you do lock eyes with him, you can’t be held responsible for what you might say. Confronting the spark between you two has weighed on your mind, and heart, for more sleepless nights than you care to admit. Here and now, at your friend’s wedding, certainly isn’t the time to start.

–

The night stretches on and the mood is much lighter. Tears of joy for the happy couple have already been shed and the celebration was ongoing well into the night. Dinner was everything you expected it to be, each course more perfect than the last.

Daniel had been asked to give a toast in the upcoming weeks of the grand event. Not that he was the smoothest speaker to ever hold a microphone, but his humor was undeniably perfect for every crowd and setting.

He was rarely at a loss for words. For this speech in particular, when he tried to picture the moment and sit with his thoughts, he realized he had none. It may have been the first time he was truly out of his league. Ask him to write a speech about racing and the intensity that comes with it? No problem. Writing about love, in its truest and most passionate form? That poses a greater challenge.

Scribbled on the notecards tucked away in his suit jacket are a few quotes from philosophers or books he’s read, hoping one will inspire some profound words.

When the microphone finds him, Daniel takes one good look at you smiling back at him, and drops the cards on the table. A rush of confidence flows through his veins, telling him that he may not be so hopeless after all. He takes a deep breath and greets the room.

“I’ll be honest, when the bride and groom asked me to give a speech on their big day, my immediate response was ‘Are you sure’?” Light laughter falls over the crowd, putting him at ease.

“I’m no expert, but when I think about why we fall in love, the answer is simple. We fall in love when the idea of spending the rest of our days alone with someone feels more like paradise instead of a punishment; when we wake up and fall asleep to the thought of them, and happily let them run through our mind every hour in between.”

Everyone in the crowd lovingly gazes at their person. Daniel notices that your eyes have remained fixed on him this whole time. He feels himself blushing, and smiling at you before continuing.

“The way I see it, falling in love is this feeling of unwavering commitment, of being unwilling to give up on someone no matter how much they beg you to. It’s knowing that even if your love is never reciprocated, you’d still feel like the luckiest person on planet Earth, knowing they hold a place in your heart no one else ever could. Loving somebody, to me, means accepting that you couldn’t un-love them even if you tried.”

Daniel catches your eyes and they sparkle, whispering everything you wish to say back to him. A pause lingers over the crowd. You wonder if anyone else can hear your heart beating out of your chest. Under Daniel’s gaze, it feels as though you’re the only two left in the room.

He turns towards the bride and groom once again to end his remarks. “It’s for all those reasons that we’re here celebrating today. My deepest congratulations to the happy couple, may your love story never end.” Daniel raises his glass of champagne and everyone else follows suit, cheering loudly.

The bride and groom beam with joy, tears in their eyes as they resonated with every word he spoke. Everyone in the room had someone they thought about, someone they picture standing across from at the altar, hands held while they swear to keep their promises. The more Daniel went on, the more you realized that for you, it’s him. By the way he was looking at you, you have a pretty good idea that he was thinking of you, too.

Daniel shares an embrace with the bride and groom as they thank him for his heartfelt words. If they only knew the speech didn’t come from those notecards left discarded on the table. Daniel’s speech came straight from the heart, purely inspired by the burgeoning love he feels for you. Other guests sing his praises as he walks past their tables as he makes his way back to you. Romantic notes of the piano pick up from where they left off, and the floor opens up for guests to dance their night away. It gives him the perfect segway, unsure of how you’ll. If you react at all, that is.

“Congratulations, Plato. That was a pretty great speech.”

“I felt inspired,” He charms, extending his hand for you to take. “May I have this dance?”

Your lips curl into a smile, letting him lead you to the dance floor. “Do you even have to ask?”

Daniel shakes his head. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Deflecting by speaking in sarcasm and responding with rhetorical questions.” Something that admittedly drives him crazy, for better and for worse. “Why do you do that?”

“Why do you wanna know?” He gives you a pointed look, silently telling him that you’ve just proved his point. “Oh. I don’t know, maybe it’s easier for me that way. To imply how I feel because I can’t say it.”

The music is soft and the way Daniel holds your body to his… it's intimate. Like you could bare your deepest secrets to Daniel and leave it here in the ballroom once the song’s over. Insecurities only seek to discourage, they’re little reminders that this music isn’t for you. This night of romance doesn’t belong to you and Daniel, two friends that have blurred the lines so many times that they now cease to exist.

The last thing Daniel wants to do is rush you or scare you off. It’s a shame that he doesn’t think more before he speaks. “Do you ever get tired of keeping it in? Not saying what’s really on your mind?”

“Not always. I’d say it’s better to keep people guessing, never let them know my next move. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“Am I just ‘people’?” He questions. His tone is soft and smooth, not accusatory in the slightest. It’s what makes Daniel so easy to talk to, even when it hurts. You never have to hide from him, he’s always waiting for you with open arms.

“No, you’re not just ‘people’, but I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Are we talking about me or you? Because I’m pretty sure this entire party knows that I’m madly in love with you. I think you might be the last one to realize.”

You freeze, and instinctively feel like taking a step away. “We’re at a wedding, Daniel. Love is in the air. You’d kinda have to be a psychopath to not let your heart soften when you’re around all of this.”

“Has yours softened? Is that what I saw in your eyes when I gave my speech?”

“I guess I’m just surprised to hear you talk all romantic like that. If there weren’t about a hundred witnesses here I wouldn’t believe it.” You giggle and he smiles at your joke, knowing that you’re absolutely right. This wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence for him.

“Well, believe it. I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me. I love you.” Daniel pauses, gauging your reaction. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m still the luckiest man in the world, remember?”

They say actions speak louder than words, and the way you kiss him says more than you can express in this moment. It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and Daniel is relieved in knowing that it won’t be the last. He kisses you back, and this time it means something. It’s a chance at having more than you ever thought possible. Less of keeping your love locked away and more accepting what’s been here all along.

“It’s not new with me either. I love you too, Daniel.”

“If I knew that was coming, I would’ve said it sooner.”

“Don’t be smug.”

“I’m not, just happy.” Daniel shows off that signature smile, one that won’t be erased anytime soon. The maid of honor interrupts your moment, asking for all of the men to clear the floor. “Now go, it looks like you have a bouquet to catch.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his boldness. Then again, the Daniel you love has never been one to back down from being unabashedly himself. “You mean you want me to catch it? You know that means we’re next right, are you sure you can handle that?”

Daniel lets his fingers trail down your arm as he backs away, bowing slightly and planting an affectionate kiss on your hand. He’ll be gone before you can scold him any further for what he’s about to say.

“With any luck, we will be.”

💌: i miss danny so much 🥲 feel free to request more from my blurb event here! comments and reblogs are always appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

[cobaltperun]

The Catalyst (6) - Let it Burn

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: A reunion opens up old wounds and a question of “What now?” plagues your mind. And the answer? It lies in the past, in the days long gone, buried under the betrayal of the woman you loved.

Spotify Playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word Count: 7.5k

-Is your love just a drop of rain? Will we all just burn like fire?-

You could feel the slight heat coming from the inside of your house before you even reached the front porch. It wasn’t alarming, it was simply the stove being turned on, but it did alert you of an unannounced visitor. All things considered there really was only one person brave enough to waltz into a mutant’s house and turn the stove on. It wasn’t just you being the mutant though, it was the forest surrounding your house; it was dark, uninviting, you liked it, but most people would feel like it was warning them to stay away. A perfect place for a mutant to hide from regular people, as far as you were concerned. The moment you stepped into your home you could smell the subtle scent of instant noodles being cooked, confirming the identity of your guest. “Lena, that better not be the only thing you’re eating!” you exclaimed as you left your glaive hanging on the wall and dropped your bag on the floor with a light thud, it was mostly clothes, after all. You stretched a bit, fighting back a yawn. You should have accepted Tony’s offer to drop you off.

“Of course not, I had some coffee for breakfast,” you heard and noticed her thick Russian accent remained, which honestly made you happy. In her own words, she was done being a spy, so, there was no need to change her accent. She had no need to blend in, so she wouldn’t.

“Yay, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” you walked into the kitchen, noticing she changed quite a bit from the last time you saw her. Short hair, though not as short as Natasha’s, fully casual clothes without one of her vests that had way too many pockets in your opinion, so, she wasn’t constantly on edge like she used to be. But most importantly she looked a lot more tired, exhausted even, than the last time you saw her. You approached her and pulled her into a firm hug before she could put on a façade and reject it. “I’m here,” and it wasn’t because she was Natasha’s sister, hell, for a while it was in spite of Natasha being her sister.

She hugged you back for a few seconds and then pulled away. “Yeah, that’s enough,” she raised her hands as she looked out the window with a tiny pout, and you grinned as the two of you sat down at your kitchen table, complete with Yelena’s instant noodles. She dug in like she hadn’t eaten in a long while, which frankly wouldn’t surprise you. “An Avenger, huh?” she asked between bites and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands.

“I guess so,” you muttered. You had that same nightmare last night, that endless space, that helplessness, it all still haunted you. It would continue to haunt you; perhaps even for the rest of your life.

For a while the only sound that could be heard in the room was Yelena eating, until that was done as well and she still didn’t say a word. And you weren’t sure what to say either. What could you say?

Maybe: Hey, I saw Natasha!

As if you needed to say that. She saw the news, she probably got her hands on some information that weren’t made public as well.

“You couldn’t stay out of it, after all,” there was something cynical in her tone, accusing you, and you couldn’t blame her. After all you said and did, you jumped right back into that world of violence as if there really wasn’t any other option. And in your mind there really wasn’t another option for you. Staying out of it would only risk more casualties, and you weren’t willing to just sit by and let people die. With or without your mutant powers the one thing that always remained true about you was that you didn’t have it in you to sit by and watch as people died.

“Back then I didn’t think something like this could happen,” an alien invasion, gods, monsters, technologies that were beyond your understanding, none of that plagued your mind three years ago. Sure, there were mutants, but this was something entirely different.

“What now, Y/N?” Yelena asked and you had no clear answer for her.

“Get ready for something worse,” you figured, knowing that was the only answer you could give her right now.

After all, that was the only answer you had at all.

Oh, things were so much simpler eleven years ago.

~X~ 11 years ago, Madagascar, ~X~

Spies had to adapt, to constantly change. They weren’t allowed to get attached, to people, things, or their own personality traits, at least that’s how it once was. Director Fury was a bit more lenient, believing attachment would make them fight harder; Coulson agreed with that sentiment. And while he got attached, there still weren’t that many things he actively disliked.

Yet, as brief as that list was, rain, particularly in humid locations. He had fresh air all around him, yet it felt suffocating to him.

The driver tried to make some small talk, but Coulson was so wrapped up in the report he got from Fury that all of his responses were brief and not exactly aimed at keeping the conversation going. It didn’t matter much, he wasn’t here to make friends with the locals, no, he was here for something much more important.

Like the report informed him Coulson was taken to an amusement park, which wasn’t exactly the first place he’d go to to look for a mutant, even if said mutant was a teenager. But Fury’s eyes and ears were absolutely certain that the mutant girl would be here, so, he followed the trail of breadcrumbs meant to lead him to you.

He found the man matching the description of your legal guardian, Edward, sun-kissed skin, short dirty blond hair peeked from under an old straw hat, fit, but not particularly muscular man in his late forties, dressed just well enough to blend into the crowd. A traveling merchant slash performer slash whatever the circumstances demanded or allowed. And sure enough, there you were, sitting on a chair next to him and explaining something in a rather animated way. Coulson took a moment to observe you, noticing that you didn’t have any physical mutations that would give away what you were. No, you were a regular fifteen-year-old, perhaps a bit taller than average girls your age, but other than that you were just a kid.

The man looked amused by whatever you were telling him, replying every now and then with just enough input to keep you talking. Strangely, he wasn’t bothered by you being a mutant, at least at a first glance. Usually when they got involved concerning a mutant they saw humans, even parents or siblings, rejecting the mutants. Still, the best course of action was to interfere and preferably recruit you before X-Men did.

So, Coulson approached, interrupting your conversation with the man and his suit immediately alerted the two of you. Indeed, a suit in an amusement park, especially without a child of his own, really did make him stick out like a sore thumb. At least the weather made the place less crowded at the moment.

“Authorities?” Edward asked as he stood up, subtly getting between Coulson and you.

“Not quite, but we can go with that,” Coulson offered his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson,” this wasn’t a spy mission, establishing trust was necessary.

“Edward L/N,” the man cautiously accepted the handshake. “Now, would you mind getting to the point?” he had no patience for small talk with strangers.

Coulson nodded, pulling out a notebook to make it seem like he needed to read the report. “I’m here to follow up on the report local police made; about the incident you and your daughter were involved in,” Edward immediately narrowed his eyes and this time you stood up as well, alarmed.

“It was self-defense,” Edward said, but then began coughing and you got him to sit down. You were yet to say a word, and you looked so talkative before.

“Y/N is still a mutant, I am-“

“You are about to leave. Mutant or not, she is neither a weapon or a monster. Leave and tell the others like you not to come back, you’re not taking her,” he said so with such determination in his eyes that Coulson believed him. They would get to you over his dead body, but what worried him more were the others Edward mentioned. As far as he was aware no one else tried to contact you.

“I assure you the people I work for didn’t try to contact you of Y/N, which is all the more reason why you should both come with me,” if taking only you wasn’t an option, maybe offering a comfortable life would sweeten the deal

You definitely seemed to consider it, and Coulson guessed it was due to Edward’s health. “I’ll be fine, kid,” he sensed your unease, immediately reassuring you and though you didn’t fully believe him you did relax a bit. “I quite like my freedom, and even if mine was for sale, her freedom isn’t,” and there it was, the definitive rejection.

“I have one more question,” Coulson’s tone changed, became firmer, more authoritative, yet the man remained fairly unphased. “Did you know she was a mutant before the incident?” he was genuinely curious, though he was fairly sure Edward was aware of it.

“Of course I knew, I pulled her out of fire when she was seven,” Edward grinned a bit. “Never mattered to me, all I saw was a child that needed help,” so, he adopted you, just like the records showed.

“We’ll stay in touch,” Coulson told the two, understanding nothing would come from this and figuring it was time for him to leave, but all Edward did was flip him off. Funnily enough, you’d do the same thing years later.

~X~ 10 years ago ~X~

A year later you were once again left all on your own. Edward’s sickness got worse, and he died in his sleep in a hospital in Japan. He didn’t have any relatives that would take you in, so you were left with two choices, try to survive on your own, knowing there was a chance someone would find out you were a mutant, or you could contact Coulson and join the organization he worked for.

Coulson was kind enough to handle transporting Edward’s remains back to the States and organize the funeral and then you were given training to become an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It started out good, you were good with various equipment, easily picking up the programming and engineering skills, you were alright with guns, nothing to write home about, but it was acceptable, but your hand to hand combat?

Maria Hill tossed you over her shoulder and pinned you to the ground once more as you groaned, knowing you would have to nurse several nasty bruises. Maria sighed and got up, sitting down next to you to catch her breath. She was one of the brightest talents of the current batch of recruits, and she was annoyed by you. “I don’t get it. Why are you even here if you’re going to hold back?” Maria asked you for what felt like the hundredth time even though she probably only asked you three or four times.

You huffed and turned onto your back. “Oh, I’d just love to see you cosplaying as a burnt toast,” you remarked sarcastically. Whenever you got a bit too into a fight you ended up lighting something on fire, and you didn’t want to do that to your fellow recruits.

Now it was Maria’s turn to huff, annoyed by your answer, or simply by your voice. Whatever it was you figured you couldn’t exactly fix it, but Maria wasn’t the only one who noticed you were holding back. So did Coulson, and that led you to Fury and the mutant depowering serum, a temporary kind, meant to be taken once a month. Fearing you’d hurt your teammates on missions, or even worse that you’d hurt someone completely innocent, you accepted the serum.

You never once argued against it. Edward may have had no issues with you being a mutant, but you had them. You feared your powers. You hated being like Magneto, or like X-Men who failed to once and for all stop the Master of Magnetism. You wanted to be sure you wouldn’t hurt someone by accident, but you also wanted to be free from the mutant powers you had.

~X~ Six years ago ~X~

There was a nervous buzz at the main base, a kind you weren’t used to. You finished sparring with Maria and were fresh out of the shower and heading with the woman to get a new mission. “You don’t seem phased by all of this,” Maria, though she was almost as nonchalant about this as you were, commented.

You shrugged, sure, it was a big deal, but you didn’t really care much. “Leave it to Barton to bring in the biggest news of the year,” you grinned a bit. You worked with Clint a few times, and if he made this decision then you’d have his back if needed. Even if most agents weren’t quite on board at the moment.

“The Black Widow, the only super soldier currently active, one of the deadliest assassins in history, switching sides after apparently destroying the Red Room,” Maria whistled, and sure enough, those were big news. Or a deadly trap, as many agents believed. “Barton is gambling with a lot here,” and it wasn’t just his life.

You opened the doors and let Maria pass first, the room was hauntingly empty aside from the two agents that had to be there. From the looks of it everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the Black Widow arriving. “Well, you guys accepted a mutant into your ranks,” you pointed out and Maria rolled her eyes, taking a small stack of papers from one of the agents and handing you half of it.

You skimmed through the data, noticing it was a simple escort mission, nothing too complicated, but it was best to stay on guard in those situations.

“And our mutant is depowered,” she patted you on the arm.

You rolled your eyes, even as a smile spread across your face. “Let’s just get this mission over with,”

~X~

“Simple mission, my ass,” you complained, taking cover behind a wall in an almost empty parking lot and keeping the frightened man you and Maria were escorting down. There was a sound you didn’t want to acknowledge a few feet away from you and you quickly turned the corner and fired, shooting one of the attackers and narrowly dodging bullets coming your way. “A bit of back-up here?” you were a tiny bit annoyed that Maria still didn’t reach your location.

“Two minutes, I had to get the data,” you felt your blood pressure rising. Usual Fury, always handing out different tasks to people.

“This was supposed to be just an escort mission!” you exclaimed, hearing someone stepping on broken glass on the other side of the wall and quickly moving around it to shoot them. The gun felt heavy in your hands as some blood splattered onto it. You were letting them get too close.

“You know how Director works,” Maria reminded you, and you knew, you absolutely knew. You still hated it.

All of a sudden, and before you could reply to Maria, three shots echoed through the parking lot and you heard five bodies hitting the ground. For a bit everything remained silent until you heard Clint’s voice through the comms. “All clear, it’s safe now,” you frowned, appreciating the back-up, but first of all, since when did Clint use guns, and second of all why was he here in the first place. You pulled the man up to his feet, ignoring the wet stain on the front of his pants and dragged him along while keeping an eye out for any potential threats. And then you saw her.

She was dressed in usual agent uniform, but you’ve never seen her before. Now, sure, you didn’t know every single agent, but even from a distance she was so striking you knew you would remember even seeing her in passing. The woman was ethereally beautiful, sharp, piercing green eyes, long red hair, beautiful face, and deadly powerful, and you realized you were looking at the Black Widow, Natalia Romanova. And she just killed five people with three bullets.

“Thanks, I owe you,” you approached her with a friendly smile, but she didn’t seem amused, she seemed deep in thought.

You noticed she was looking at the corpses as she sighed, as if accepting some heavy weight on her back. “Just doing my job,” she told you and looked you in the eyes. “Natasha Romanoff,” you did hear she’d slightly change her name.

“Y/N L/N,” you didn’t bother offering your hand to her, she looked like she wasn’t eager to touch anyone.

~X~ Four years ago ~X~

It’s been two years since Natasha joined the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, which really should work on its’ name. The only thing Natasha might have missed about her past was the short organization name. She was working on her report, meticulously explaining each step of her mission. It was four in the morning, she hasn’t slept, couldn’t sleep, really, and the steaming mug of black coffee, her second one, because just one cup wouldn’t do it, was the only thing keeping her company.

That is until she heard familiar footsteps and smiled instinctively and even somewhat against her will. She was the Black Widow, she didn’t get attached, yet she did just that, not only with Clint, but also…

She knew it was coming and surprisingly didn’t have to force her body not to react as warm arms wrapped around her from behind, just beneath her shoulders and she felt a chin resting on her left shoulder.

“Hey, can’t sleep?” and there you were, the second person she got attached to. And it terrified her because your touch didn’t just feel so natural her body didn’t react defensively, it relaxed her, eased her mind. You were always so warm, a part of your mutation that the depowering serum couldn’t remove, and she found herself sinking into that warmth, letting it melt her heart encased in ice bit by bit.

“The bed felt cold,” so, she flirted, half-serious, half-joking just to keep her heart from racing. Her heart never raced, not when she was in danger, not when she was threatened, or when she had to tell a lie. She could fool anyone and not blink, but with you her heart raced with need for more than just this closeness.

You hummed, as if seriously considering her joke, as if she hasn’t said something similar to it so many times before, dropping innuendos or flirting, or just teasing you. And you took it all in stride. “Let me buy you dinner first, Nat,” your eyes met and somehow she found herself being lost in your eyes, in that fire hidden behind them. Nat. Yet another sentiment she never thought she’d indulge in. She never thought she’d be affected by something as simple as a nickname.  “Come on, let’s get some of that nervous energy out of your system,” you reached for her coffee, drank about third of it and gagged at the lack of sugar and Natasha, amused by your antics, smiled and shook her head. “Hush you, that’s awful,” you complained, staring at her coffee like it owed you a fortune.

Natasha got up, brushing past you with her report in her hands and, with a slight sway to her hips, led you to the training area. You ran after her, catching up and walking side by side with a bit of a sleepy, but still eager, grin on your face. You were ridiculous, and she absolutely liked that about you.

The moment you were in the training area you took a few steps away from her, giving her those few seconds to get ready for a fight. You didn’t need to, you’ve seen her reacting in milliseconds, but you still did it, still saw her as more than just a super soldier serum enhanced assassin. So, Natasha smiled and went after you, throwing the first punch followed by a spin kick when you predictably moved to your left. You crossed your arms, blocking her foot and quickly catching it with a smile on your face. Natasha winked at you, jumping into air and kicking with her free leg, making you release her leg and block the kick. She spun in midair, dropping an axe kick aimed at your shoulder, fully trusting you to be able to handle it.

And you did, not by blocking, but by lunging forward and wrapping your arm around her waist. You went to slam her against the floor, but she already had her arms around you, using your body to maneuver onto your back and easily regain control. You grunted, managing to slip one arm through her hold, but you were still soft. You should have tried to slam her against the wall, instead you were trying to free yourself the harder way.

She kept her hold on your neck with one arm and raised her elbow, going for your head, and you caught it, returning the favor with an elbow to her own side. She lost her grip on you for a moment, which was enough for you to throw her off you. She gracefully landed back on the floor and evaded when you tried to tackle her again. You were fun to fight, skilled enough to challenge her, strong enough so that she didn’t have to hold back. You blocked her punch with your forearm, pulled her into a clinch and tried to knee her in the face, but she not only pushed your knee back down using her weight, but she used what little space there was between you to launch an uppercut that you narrowly dodged and the two of you separated again.

It was a constant between you. She was too nimble for you to keep holding her long enough to actually get an upper hand, and you were too quick for that to give her an upper hand. And you just didn’t stop. She had enhanced stamina, but you were giving her a run for her money, and from what she read the depowering serum affected your stamina as well.

You both kept the sparring up for an hour, neither of you giving up or letting the other take any significant lead. If you went for the kick, Natasha was quick to jump over it and try to take you down. If she went for a direct hit you blocked and hit back. If she danced circles around you, you stood your ground, using quick reflexes and perception to handle her speed. And it went on like that until you heard the doors opening and Clint walking in.

“Interesting, uh… foreplay?” he had no filter and that earned him two glares as the two of you ended your sparring prematurely.

~X~ Three years ago ~X~

For once your were on a high-risk mission in Russia, hence Nat had antidote to depowering serum on her at all times. The instructions were clear, she couldn’t use it without permission from Fury, and she wouldn’t get it unless hostages were rescued and the compromised data was secured. Even after all these years the belief that your powers were too volatile to be safely used on a mission remained, even if you were occasionally given the chance to train with them.

And you believed it too. You’ve grown so used to being depowered that it only felt natural to not consider using your powers until the very last moment. Nat, as often as she was paired with you for missions, had never seen you use your powers before.

You climbed onto a rooftop overlooking the base held by heavily armed military-esque organization. The numerous guns strapped to your body felt heavy, two machine guns, two regular pistols, throwing knives, smoke bombs, several grenades, shotgun and plenty of ammo as well. Despite that there were still too many guards to walk in, even if you had Nat on your side, no, you’d need a distraction first. You watched as Nat took the two snipers out with ease, they never even saw it coming as she knocked them out, sedating them and tying them so they still looked like they were standing guard.

“All clear,” she whispered through the comms.

“Copy that,” you heard the zipline being attached to the wall just beneath you and used it to reach Nat. From here you had a better look at the base. There was no way to tell what they were working on, but the place was heavily guarded. “There’s your target,” you nodded toward the doors on the far left, supposed to lead to the cells, meaning you’d go and make a mess on the far-right side.

“Be careful,” Nat told you and you saw her nearly reaching out to touch you, nearly breaking that professional barrier she always put on during missions. On your free time she was comfortable, touching you, letting you hold her, sometimes even initiating contact, but that was never the case on the missions.

The fact that she reached out, even if she changed her mind, was enough for you. “You too,” you winked at her. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled at you, that same adorable smile that you loved.

“Remember, dinner when we get back home,” she reminded you as you went to the trapdoors and you gave her a thumbs up.

“Don’t need a reminder,” it’s been on your mind for a long time now, and it was about to become a reality, but you appreciated a bit of extra motivation to stay safe and careful.

You opened the trapdoors and went inside, for once being stealthy, at least until you reached the ither side of the building. You put the night vision goggles on and carefully moved through the halls, silently knocking out anyone on your path. Just like the snipers up above you these guys would also take a very long nap.

You pulled up your collar, sure, you weren’t cold, but your breath was still visible when you exhaled. Nat wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest, she even enjoyed the cold, as cliché as that was. Although, she did mention cold gave her an excuse to stay closer to you since you were always warm. Granted, she was tired, had a nightmare, and was sleepy, so maybe that had something to do with her confession.

You slowly but surely reached the other side of the base and glanced toward the tower where you and Nat were. You couldn’t see her, but you could feel her eyes on you. “I’m ready,” you told her, seeing the guards you were about to take out in a rather loud manner. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit nervous, there were still lots of them, and some of them were heavily armed. But then again, so were you.

“Remember, be careful,” Nat reminded you and the chaos started. You grabbed your machine gun and opened fire, killing several of the thugs and alerting the rest of the intruder in this part of the base. Soon enough the reflector lights were on you and the place was turned into a bullet storm from hell. You dashed for cover, throwing one of the smoke bombs to cover your tracks and vaulting over crates, firing at anyone that moved.

You were constantly on move, not letting them catch up to you or properly aim at you. Someone like Nat or Clint would have been able to shoot you, but there weren’t that many people on their level. You were surrounded by the sound of bullets flying, people shouting in Russian, which you now somewhat understood, but not well enough to pick up words in this chaos.

You could feel heat on the tips of your fingers as you kept firing, shooting people or explosives they were near, and before you knew it the right side of the base was engulfed in chaos, flames, explosions and even more bullets. Several bullets grazed you, leaving small wounds that wouldn’t even need stitching. They were annoying but none of them mattered. If you got seriously wounded you’d simply get the antidote and your mutant powers would burn the wounds closed, you just needed to finish the mission first.

A loud explosion close to you caught your attention and you saw a heavily armed soldier carrying a glaive in his arms approaching you. It wasn’t a regular glaive though, it was absorbing the heat from the flamethrower attached to it and each time the soldier swung it it sent an explosion in the path of the swing.

“Shit!” you narrowly jumped out of the way of the explosions and fired, only for the bullets to bounce off the helmet the soldier was wearing. You weren’t immune to fire when you were depowered, so you absolutely needed to avoid the explosions.

~X~

Natasha cursed under her breath. The hostages have been killed at least three days ago, just before the mission got authorized, but she could still get the data. She plugged her USB stick in and began copying all the data from the computers. You were definitely distracting everyone in the base, she could hear the distant sound of gunfire, but for now it didn’t seem like she had anything to worry about. You knew what you were doing. You’d be fine. You had to be fine. But then the explosions started and Natasha began to worry.

She listened as the explosions got more and more frequent and immediately contacted Fury. “Director, I need permission to give agent L/N the antidote,” she quickly told him as she retrieved all the data from the computers.

“Denied. There’s equipment in that base that we need,” and she was looking at it. Advanced weapons and equipment designed to be used on mutants, similar to what Red Room was trying to create before she destroyed it. And Fury wanted that.

Natasha caught the reflection of her worried face on the now black screen. “But, Sir, there’s a chance the base will be destroyed either way,” Natasha tried to argue, surely you were more important to Fury than this equipment. Right? She clenched her fists so tightly she nearly made her palms bleed. She was being naïve, she, better than most people, should know the answer to that question. Yet, she hoped. Against her better judgment she hoped.

“Do not disobey my direct orders, agent Romanoff. We need everything to remain intact, put trackers on the equipment and flee,” they wouldn’t take fighting over to this side, they wouldn’t risk destroying it.

Natasha slammed her fist onto the table, shaking it with the force of her punch. “Agent Romanoff, you want to wipe your ledger clean. Don’t waste this opportunity,” but the cost was letting you fight your way out of this or die, drenching her ledger with your blood. “I’m sending Barton, Coulson and Hill to rescue L/N,” less than an hour later she’d learn that was a lie, but at that moment it made her decision easier and she put her faith in the organization she worked for, in the man she worked for. It didn’t matter, an hour later it was already too late.

~X~

You cursed your lack of close-range weapons as the soldier caught up to you and tried to cut you, and that on its own wouldn’t have been that big of an issue, but each swing caused explosions, and he was protected by glaive absorbing any explosion coming his way. You weren’t that lucky, and your protective gear was barely holding up, you were injured, blood trickled down your left arm and you were sure you had a concussion.

You ducked under the glaive, desperate, and cut the flamethrower part of it with your knife, detaching it from the glaive and just barely dodging the last explosion it could make, but you lost your footing and couldn’t avoid it as the soldier threw the glaive at you. The blade, still hot from explosions, pierced through your side like it was cutting though butter and you fell. Disoriented by the immense pain and looking at the handle of the weapon.

This wasn’t happening.

But before you could comprehend what just happened to you there was another explosion, caused by all the damage you and the soldier did, caused by all the damaged equipment, spilled fuel and the destruction. The explosion rocked the building and you crashed through several floors, falling into the underground levels, with the glaive still piercing through your right side. Ironically, the glaive saved you, as it absorbed the explosion that reached you. You landed harshly on your side, making your wound even worse. The pain blinded you temporarily as you grabbed onto the handle, grasping onto anything within reach as blood spilled from your body and pooled underneath you.

“Y/N, what happened?” you heard Nat’s voice, filled with panic and you could imagine the look on her face.

You couldn’t answer her, the pain was too much as you finally regained your sight and just stared at the glaive in disbelief. If you pulled it out you’d definitely bleed out, but from the looks of it you’d die either way.

“Y/N!” her shout snapped you out of your thoughts and you remembered Nat had the syringe with the antidote to depowering serum. If she could reach you, and she probably could do it easily since most of the soldiers were killed either by you or the explosion, you’d be able to burn the wound closed.

“Nat, I need- I’ll bleed out-“

Nat remained silent for what felt like eternity, but when she spoke you wished she didn’t say a single word. “I don’t have the permission to use it,” she said it as if what you had meant nothing to her, as if she was fine with letting you die here, bleeding out in these ruins impaled on a glaive. At least she sounded like she was sorry, like saying those words and leaving you to die broke her heart.

There was no use in arguing, and you had no energy left to argue even if there was a way to convince Nat to come back for you. You tried to get up, to fight for your life, but you just slumped back onto the floor, unable to do anything but close your eyes and wait to die.

The next time you opened your eyes you were in shackles, captured by the Red Room.

~X~

She could see a lot of herself in you. Not in your helplessness, or inability to escape from the Red Room, no, those hardly mattered to Yelena. It was your firm belief that Natalia, or Natasha as you called her, would come for you.

Madame B was cruel indeed, making Yelena tend to your wounds just enough to keep you alive, making both of you see the proof of Natalia’s callousness, of her tendency to leave people behind. You, bloodied, injured, damn near on the brink of death, were faced with someone who once hoped Natalia would come back and save her. And her, she was faced with someone carrying that same hope, heading toward that same disappointing realization that Natalia wasn’t coming.

“Natalia isn’t coming,” she didn’t even need to fake it, she truly believed that. “She didn’t come for me either,” the anger and hurt in her voice was real.

You grunted when she tightened the bandage around your waist a bit harsher than necessary. “Try all you want, I’m not letting you or anyone else turn me against Nat,” you weren’t that easy to break, she’d give you that. You were so disgustingly loyal to Natalia, as if she deserved that kind of love. You looked into her eyes, still so determined and defiant. She never got to be like that; any defiance was quickly beaten out of her. “I’ll make all of your higher ups pay for what they did to her,” you promised, sure that would happen, defiant to the bitter end.

She imagined a similar defiance was what separated Natalia from other Widows, made her THE Black Widow, the only one worth the super soldier serum, because none other could take it.

“You chose the wrong person to put your faith in,” so maybe she could chip at that instead, at your choice instead of the person. “We’re in no rush, you only just got here,” three days were nothing, you’d understand sooner rather than later that no one was coming for you. Especially not your precious Natalia.

~X~

You bit your tongue so you wouldn’t scream, but the electric current coursing through your body made it nearly impossible. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on you. If you weren’t depowered this would have had no effect on you, but here you were, tortured by one of your own powers.

The woman on the other side of the glass wall turned the machine off and you gasped for air. It didn’t matter the air was stale, breathing it in without electricity shocking you felt like you were breathing in the fresh air. The sound of dripping made you look to the side where a small puddle of blood was forming. Your thrashing reopened the wound, but the pain was dulled by the shocks, still, it made you feel light-headed.

“You should feel lucky, mutant, you can choose to make this all stop,” Madame B wasn’t even taunting you, she genuinely believed giving you that choice was an act of kindness. As if the choice between joining the Red Room and being tortured was a choice anyone would enjoy having.

“Do your worst,” you glared, you couldn’t do anything else.

“The traitor isn’t coming,” her words echoed as she turned the electricity back on and ten days into this torture and two weeks since you were captured those words sounded a lot more true than you dared to admit. “You were left to die by the traitor. The Red Room has given you a new life.”

You forced yourself to smirk at her as your eyes, wild and unbreakable focused solely on her. “I don’t want it,” you put tremendous effort into it and gave her a middle finger as she dialed up the electricity and finally made you scream, but you found some satisfaction in seeing the frustration on her face.

~X~

Another week later they have given up on torturing you, instead they just threw you into a cell, shackled to the wall and bit by bit emptying the cell with every bare minimum meal they brought you. And the worst thing about it?

The solitude was working. With nothing to occupy your mind, with no pain to focus on, you were left with your own thoughts and the realization that you were betrayed and abandoned, and that no one, not Fury, not Coulson, not Hill or Clint, and especially not Natasha, was coming to save you.

There was no denying it anymore. You were on your own. You’ve given them seven years of your life, and you were thrown away like it all meant nothing.

Maybe it truly meant nothing.

~X~

Each second felt like a week, drawn out, passing by so slowly you wondered if you’d go insane. That annoying dripping sound from the cell next to your own persisted, staying by your side through it all. Rhythmic dripping felt like its very own form of torture, just reminding you of how alone you were, constantly reminding you of the deafening silence that surrounded it. The darkness around you seemed almost endless, and the dim light of the candle did nothing to chase it away, it only forced you to focus on the blood-stained glaive just out of your reach. A dripping sound to break the torturous silence and a flickering flame taunting you in the dark; well, at least the Red Room made some creative choices regarding your time in their cell.

This would never end unless you let go, that much you understood by now. The Red Room wouldn’t stop torturing you until you broke, and you wouldn’t let yourself break. With no one coming to save you all you could do was burn this whole place down, letting your powers consume you in the process.

For years you tried to be different, to not use your powers for the sake of destruction like Magneto did when he destroyed your home. Yet here you were, knowing that was your only way out.

A sound of footsteps made you look to the side, the only doors leading to this room were right in front of you, so this wasn’t someone from the Red Room. No, you knew exactly who, or rather what, this was. “Is this it? The death you promised me?” your voice was hoarse, it almost hurt to speak. How long has it been since you had any water? Two days? Longer? You had no idea how much time passed since the last mouthful of water you were allowed to drink.

The darkness seemed to swirl in one spot of your prison, as if it was consumed by the one approaching. And then you saw it, this creature made of hundreds of small black birds, barely stuck together. With every step it took the wings of the birds closest to the surface flapped helplessly. The creature remained silent, only looking at you with empty, white eyes. “Silent treatment?” you coughed, wondering if this really was it. Would you just lose consciousness and die here? “Impaled, killed by my own powers. That was your promise,” you reminded it, but, like an oversized amalgamation of birds taking a human-like shape, it just tilted its head. It didn’t speak, didn’t open its’ mouth. Maybe this really was it. Sure, you weren’t impaled any longer, but the wound still troubled you, even if the Red Room made sure you wouldn’t bleed out, they never allowed it to properly heal. “What do you even want from me?”

The doors opened and you were temporarily blinded by the light piercing through the darkness. “Talking to yourself?” Yelena asked you as the creature stepped between the two of you. She didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge it, proving to you that no one else could see it. Somehow, every time you were close to death you saw it, and it only spoke to you the very first time.

“I am a good listener,” you joked, staring at the eyes of the creature. No matter how many times you saw it, you had no idea if it was an enemy or not. Or if it was simply neutral.

Yelena walked through the creature and you watched as it vanished into the darkness. Yelena snapped her fingers and brought your attention back to her. Luckily, she didn’t come empty-handed, she had a bottle of water in her left hand. “Here,” she offered the opened bottle to you and you never enjoyed the feeling of cool, fresh water, going down your throat. “Slowly,” Yelena chastised you and spilled some water on your face, which was greatly appreciated.

“Thanks,” you gave her a slight smile, but she wasn’t amused. “Won’t you get in trouble though?”

Yelena stared at you blankly, a lot like Natasha would when you were being ridiculous. They may not be related by blood, but the similarities were somehow there. “I shut down all surveillance in the room. Dreykov and Madame B are going to brainwash me tomorrow,” your eyes widened at that. After Natasha they probably didn’t want to take any chances. The thoughts of brainwashed Yelena fighting Natasha made your blood run cold. “If I said I want a fresh start, what can you do about it?” Yelena asked and you took a deep breath. You found a semblance of tentative companionship with the girl sharing the same fate as you and carrying the pain of being abandoned by Natasha. And you didn’t want her to lose herself to this damned place.

This was it. “Give it to you, as long as you can find an excuse to get out of the building. I’ll give you an hour before this whole place is turned to ashes,” you promised her, figuring that, if this was where you’d die, you’d at least take the Red Room down with you.

A/N: So... I'm curious, how would you feel if Yelena joined the team, more or less right now?

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler @skz-xii @jokermoonie

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[p0orbaby]

Could you do a blurb for alexia and reader and their daughters first bday? so fluffy it rottens my teeth

-

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the cake. It’s a two-tier monstrosity with pink icing and miniature elephants, because apparently, your daughter loves elephants. This is an assumption since she’s only one and her favourite activity seems to be slamming her tiny fists against the table and screaming at the Peppa Pig theme song. You glance over at Alexia, who’s meticulously arranging balloons into some sort of Pinterest-inspired arch. It’s tragic, really, because the balloons are deflating faster than her patience.

“You know she won’t remember any of this, right?” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with a particularly rebellious balloon.

Alexia doesn’t look up. “It’s not for her,” she mutters, teeth gritted, “it’s for us. And the photos. For the grandparents. You know”

You do know. The grandparents, who’ll scrutinise every detail, subtly implying that the cake should’ve been homemade and the balloons should’ve been organic or something. You glance at the clock. Two hours until the guests arrive. Two hours until you’re knee-deep in small talk with people you barely tolerate, discussing the milestones of babies that are all the same. They roll over, they laugh, they scream, and then they eat something they shouldn’t.

Speaking of, the baby—your baby—is currently sitting in her high chair, aggressively smearing mashed banana across her face like it’s avant-garde war paint. You sigh. At least she’s quiet for once. There’s a moment of eerie calm, like you’re in the eye of a storm. It won’t last. You sip your coffee, which is lukewarm and bitter, and stare at the pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

“Why do people insist on wrapping things for a one-year-old?” you ask, more to yourself than Alexia. “She’s going to eat the paper. And cry. In that order”

Alexia finally gives up on the balloon arch. “You’re right,” she says, walking over and inspecting the cake like it might explode. “But they want to feel like they contributed something. Everyone’s desperate to be relevant in a baby’s life”

You nod, because that’s exactly it. The party isn’t for the baby, or for you, or even Alexia. It’s for all these people who want to feel like they’ve done something. Like attending a one-year-old’s birthday party is some kind of moral achievement. A gold star for being a functional human.

The doorbell rings, far too early for guests, which means it’s probably your neighbour, Carol, who always shows up with unsolicited advice on baby care, as though she invented parenting. You open the door, and sure enough, it’s Carol, holding a gift bag that screams I bought this on sale at El Corte Inglés.

“Thought I’d come early to help,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan the room, resting on the cake. “Oh, you didn’t make it yourself?”

“Bought it,” you say, deadpan. “From the shop. With money”

Carol doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even blink. “Ah, well, the important thing is she’ll enjoy it. At this age, it’s all about the memories”

You glance at your daughter, now vigorously attempting to fling the banana off her high chair.

“She won’t remember this,” you say, but Carol’s already unpacking her baby advice, Alexia’s gone back to fighting with the balloons, and you’re suddenly wondering why you didn’t just fake an illness and cancel the entire thing.

“Happy birthday,” you mutter, to no one in particular.

[cigsaftersuh]

my youth, your kitchen

chapter 34 .ᐟ ૮ wrong room ྀིა

𐙚 pairing: non-idol! jeno x f! reader (.◜◡◝)

𐙚 genre: slice of life + strangers to friends to lovers

𐙚 in which y/n, a pre-med student, who loves to cook & feed people, meets jeno, the quiet sports science major with a soft smile, and discovers that the way to someone’s heart really is through their gastrointestinal tract, their stomach.

you, jaemin, and jisung finally step into the dorm, jisung immediately darting towards chenle’s room with a quick “good night!” leaving you and jaemin standing in the hallway, a little unsure of what to do next.

you could feel your nerves creeping in, a small sense of guilt gnawing at you. you hadn’t exactly planned on staying here, and intruding, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just a bit of an inconvenience.

“sorry about this,” you said to jaemin, your voice quieter than you intended. “i didn’t mean to make things complicated.”

jaemin ruffled your hair lightly, a playful gesture that made you feel a little less anxious. "really, it's fine," he added, his tone warm, trying to ease the weight of guilt you didn't even realize you were carrying. "you're not an inconvenience. we wouldn't have invited you if we didn't want you here."

you gave him a small, grateful smile, nodding, though you still felt that unease lingering in the back of your mind. jaemin had a way of making you feel like everything was okay, even when your thoughts were a whirlwind.

he headed into his room, rummaging through his drawers before pulling out a old jersey and sweatpants. as he handed them over, you noticed the name on the back.

"oh wait, this is jeno’s," you said, not wanting to take his stuff without permission. "is that okay?"

"yeah, it’s fine," jaemin said easily, not thinking much of it. "he won’t care."

you nodded, deciding not to overthink it. he then grabbed a spare toothbrush and a face mask from his bag, handing them over. "go shower. you’ll feel better."

you murmured a quiet thanks before slipping into the bathroom.

as soon as the water hit your skin, you let out a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to quiet your thoughts. jeno hadn’t texted you back all day, and even though you told yourself not to dwell on it, you couldn’t help it.

maybe he was just busy, maybe he’d fallen asleep early — you tried telling yourself. or maybe something was wrong.

you shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. this wasn’t the time to get caught up in your own head. instead, you hurried through your shower, not wanting to take up too much time and waste their water.

once you were done, you pulled on the clothes jaemin gave you, the oversized shirt practically swallowing you. you applied the face mask before stepping out, your hair still damp as you ran a towel through it, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

the shirt was comfortable, though the thought of you wearing something that belonged to jeno made your stomach twist when you remembered jaemin’s comment about it being his.

not wanting to take up more time, you stepped out, feeling the cool air hit your skin. jaemin was still on the couch, eyes half-lidded, scrolling on his phone. he looked up when he noticed you.

“all good?” he asked, voice groggy. you nodded, offering a small smile. “yeah, thanks again.”

he hummed in response, already half-asleep. "grab a blanket from chenle’s room before you head to bed," he murmured, voice groggy. "good night."

you turned toward the hallway, but then realized that he wasn’t going anywhere. “wait, are you seriously sleeping out here?”

jaemin sighed, already knowing where this was going. “y/n.”

“jaemin,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “it’s your bed, just sleep in it.”

“you’re the guest.”

“and you live here.”

he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “we are not doing this, go to sleep, y/n.”

you stared at him, unimpressed. he just stared back, eyes heavy with exhaustion, completely unbothered.

eventually, you sighed in defeat. “fine. i owe you.”

"good night minnie," you replied, watching as he turned over to get comfortable.

quietly, you padded over to the two closed doors that greeted you, trying to remember which one was chenle’s.

which one did jisung run off to again?

walking up to the one you remember jisung disappearing into, you knocked and waited patiently, becoming only a little nervous when you heard shuffling on the other side.

once the door was open, you gasped and stumbled backward — much like the other person, who clutched his shirt over his heart.

“fuck— y/n—you fucking scared me”

prev 𐙚 next

ㅡ my youth, your kitchen.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

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[rhiannonsknife]

── ❆ THE HAPPIEST SEASON; jackie taylor

— summary: jackie brings you home for the holidays.

— warnings: the plot of ‘happiest season’. so: angst. hurt/comfort. internalized homophobia. past jackieshauna. some nsfw content. mdni. fem!reader. her mom is very much out of character for the sake of the plot. also jackie has an older brother in this.

the taylor’s home is something straight out of a magazine: immaculate, grand, and sparkling with holiday cheer. wreaths adorn every door, garlands wind their way up the banister, and twinkling lights cast a soft glow over the meticulously decorated living room. it’s all so perfect. too perfect.

you’re standing awkwardly near the hors d’oeuvres table, clutching a glass of wine like a lifeline. the place is packed with people: jackie’s parents’ friends, colleagues, neighbors, all dressed to the nines, laughing politely at each other’s stories, their voices blending into an distant hum. you feel like a guest at someone else’s christmas, because in so many ways, that’s exactly what you are.

you can see jackie from across the room, talking to her mom’s book club friends. she’s smiling, poised, doing what jackie does best: being the golden child everyone adores, the same girl she was when she left wiskayok after graduation. the sight of her makes your chest tighten.

it’s been days of this now, days of pretending to be something you’re not:

when she first asked you to come home with her for christmas, you’d been thrilled. nervous, sure, but excited. after all, you’ve been dating for a while now. long enough that meeting her family felt like the natural next step. you’d even imagined what it would be like: holding hands under the table at dinner, sneaking kisses under the mistletoe, sharing the kind of quiet, intimate moments that made the season your personal favorite. you knew her parents were rather old-fashioned, jackie had told you as much, but you figured she’d prepared them, or at least planned to tell them about you when the time felt right.

that’s not how it’s been. your imaginary, festive bubble had been burst the minute you stepped through the overly decorated entrance of jackie’s two story childhood home. the first cracks appeared before you even made it through the front door.

jackie pulled the car up to her parents’ sprawling house, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. she gave you a quick, nervous smile as she shifted into park. “okay, so, just…let me handle my mom, alright? she’s a lot, but she’s going to love you!”

the warning had been vague enough to feel normal. plenty of people had complicated relationships with their parents, after all. so you brushed it off, smiling back at her and squeezing her hand over the center console.

inside, jackie’s mom greeted you with the enthusiasm of someone meeting a new best friend. she hugged jackie tightly and turned to you, her smile widening. “you must be the roommate jaqueline told us so much about!”

you froze, glancing quickly at jackie, hoping she’d correct her mom. she didn’t.

“we’ve been looking forward to this,” jackie’s mom already continued, bustling around to take your coat. “we haven’t seen her in months! practically all year, really. it’s so nice that you could both come”

“yeah, it’s great to meet you too, mrs. taylor,” you said hesitantly, managing to force a smile.

her dad appeared a moment later, extending a firm handshake: “it’s nice you brought a friend home this year, jaqueline” he said, looking over at his daughter. “it’s a pleasure to meet you”

“come in, come in!” mrs. taylor ushered you both inside, talking a mile a minute about how the house was a mess and how much she had to get done before the party. you couldn’t even process the introductions properly, your mind was still stuck on one word: roommate.

you wanted to say something to jackie, but there was no time. she disappeared into the house with her mom, leaving you standing awkwardly by the door, already wondering if this was a mistake. you tried to make sense of it, you really did. maybe jackie just hadn’t wanted to drop everything on them all at once. maybe she planned to explain things in private, later.

later never came. matter of fact, things only got worse from here.

the first night, over dinner, mrs. taylor asked you a series of polite (if not slightly invasive) questions: where you were from, what you studied, what you wanted to do after school. you answered as best you could, until she got to the question you’d been dreading:

“so” mrs. taylor said, her voice light, “are you seeing anyone dear?”

you barely had time to open your mouth before jackie jumped in. “nope, not right now,” she said, laughing lightly as if the whole idea were absurd. “she’s too busy for all that, right?”

you nearly dropped your fork.

mrs. taylor, blissfully unaware, joined her daughter’s laughter. “well, good for you, focusing on your future. too many girls your age let boys get in the way” she nodded approvingly. “but they can be such a distraction at your age! you’ve got plenty of time to find a suitable boyfriend still!”

it was humiliating. you sat there in stunned silence, as her mom continued on about “being independent” but the importance of “finding a nice husband and starting a family” as her dad sat across from you, mumbling his occasional agreement over a glass of wine.

jackie didn’t even look at you, just kept eating like she hadn’t said anything wrong.

the sleeping arrangements were the final straw.

after dinner, mrs. taylor led you upstairs to show you the guest room. “you’ll be in the guest room! i’ve got fresh sheets on the bed, and there’s extra blankets in the closet if it gets cold,” she said cheerfully. “jackie’s room is a little tight for two people. but i figured you’d want your own space anyway!”

“oh, i don’t mind if-“ you started to say, but jackie cut you off.

“that’s perfect,” she said. “thanks mom!”

that night, as you lay in the guest bed staring at the ceiling, all you could think about was how different jackie felt here. the girl who kissed you in public without a second thought, who called you her girlfriend like it was the most natural thing in the world, was gone. in her place was someone who couldn’t even look at you when her mom called you her roommate.

and the worst part? she didn’t seem to realize how much it hurt. jackie didn’t just avoid telling her parents about you, she actively reinforced the lie. every time her mom called you “friends,” every time jackie deflected a question about your life, it was like a slap in the face.

and the little moments only piled up as time passed.

the next morning, jackie’s older brother arrived with his wife and two kids in tow, a flurry of loud greetings and suitcases. jackie introduced you, of course, though things went much like you anticipated: “this is my friend, y/n. she’s staying with us for the holidays!” she said, lying through her teeth so smoothly you would believe it too.

her brother gave you a brief nod before turning back to jackie, immediately launching into some story about work while you, once again, stood awkwardly to the side. jackie’s sister-in-law was slightly kinder but distant, mostly preoccupied with keeping her kids from destroying the pristine holiday decorations.

at first, you tried to make yourself useful. you helped mrs. taylor in the kitchen, played with jackie’s nephews (at least the kids seemed to like you), laughed along with the family’s inside jokes…yet there was always a subtle reminder that you weren’t part of this.

-like when they took a group photo later that evening, everyone gathered around the elaborately decorated tree in the living room. “y/n,” mrs. taylor called brightly, handing you the camera, “would you mind taking a picture of the family?”

for a moment, you hesitated, glancing over at jackie. she was standing in the center, next to her brother and his wife, looking entirely too comfortable with her role in all of this. when she caught your eye, she smiled encouragingly.

“of course,” you said quietly, swallowing your disappointment as you took the camera.

the family arranged themselves, arms slung over shoulders, smiles wide and bright. you adjusted the focus, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened as jackie laughed at something her brother whispered.

“perfect,” mrs. taylor said after you’d taken a few shots, coming over to check the camera. “you’re a natural with this”

all you could do was nod and hand the camera back. jackie didn’t even look at you.

later that night, after a dinner with another uncomfortable amount of questions, you couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling in your head as you laid awake in your guest room. every little moment from the days prior replayed on a loop, each one cutting a little deeper than the last.

then came the faint knock on the door.

“y/n?” jackie’s voice was quiet, hesitant as she pushed the door open just enough to catch a glimpse inside. “are you awake?”

you didn’t answer right away, torn between wanting to see her and wanting to tell her to leave you alone. but eventually, you sighed. if this was your only chance of normality these days, it would be stupid not to take it. “come in”

she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. she was in her pajamas, her hair loose around her shoulders. for that one moment, she looked like your jackie again.

“I just wanted to check on you,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“i’m fine” you muttered instantly, though there was no conviction in your voice whatsoever.

jackie winced, her hand hesitating before reaching for yours. “i know this isn’t…ideal. but it’s just for a few days, okay? once the holidays are over, we can go back to normal”

your stared at her. “normal? jackie, you’re acting like i’m some stranger crashing your family christmas. i’m your girlfriend. at least, i thought i was”

“you are,” she insisted, her grip tightening on your hand. “it’s just- it’s complicated. my parents wouldn’t understand. you don’t know how they are”

“don’t i?” you shot back, pulling your hand away from her grip. if jackie wasn’t comfortable telling her truth yet, you would never ask her to. but she was forcing you right back into the closet alongside her, hardly looking at you at all. “i’ve been here for two days, jackie, and all i’ve done is watch you pretend i’m nobody”

jackie’s face crumpled, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. “i’m sorry,” she whispered. “i didn’t mean to hurt you”

the fight drained out of you at the sight of her instead, you sighed, scooting over to make room for her on the bed. “just…come here”

jackie hesitated for a moment before lying down beside you, her head resting on your shoulder. you wrapped an arm around her, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. for a little while, it was almost like things were okay. jackie traced lazy patterns on your arm, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone occasionally.

“i love you,” she whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it as she dragged her lips up the side of your neck. the blankets around you rustled as she slipped up your body until her weight was resting atop your own.

“i love you too” you half murmured, half gasped as she nibbled on your earlobe, freezing fingertips brushing underneath the the fabric of your shirt.

“i love you” jackie repeated all over again, smiling against the side of your neck when she drew a gasp from your lips, caused by the way she was rolling your nipple between her index and thumb.

“sh” she hushed playfully, pressing her free pointer finger against your lips. you didn’t have to think twice about it; immediately parting them to suck it into your mouth. the way jackie looked at you then reminded you that your girlfriend, the jackie you knew, was still in there: her own mouth hung open as she watched you take it, her eyes darkening as she pushed in deeper.

you whimpered around her fingers softly, all the pent up energy and frustration shooting straight between your legs now that you could feel jackie’s body on top of yours.

jackie, in response, rocked her hips forward, stifling her own sounds by pressing her face to the crook of your neck. the comfortable weight of her index against your tongue shifted, and she pulled it back before running it down your body urgently.

another gasp fell from your mouth as she pushed the saliva stained finger into your pajama pants, right into your underwear, not wasting any time to circle it in clockwise motions around your clit. at least she had missed touching you, judging by how frantic jackie was moving her hand, all while simultaneously rutting herself against your thigh.

“i missed you” jackie whined as her lips found the juncture of your neck. “fuck, i missed you so much”

you let yourself believe it as she sunk her fingers into you and threw her head back, one hand slammed over her mouth to stifle her moans.

your head fell back against the headboard of the guest room’s bed with a soft thud, exposing more of your skin to jackie. immediately, her mouth was on you, licking and sucking just soft enough that she won’t leave any marks behind in her wake.

“i got you” she panted, rocking back and forth on your leg until the bed frame moved back against the wall. simultaneously, jackie pumped her fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot every time.

“fuck-“ you cried out quietly, eyes pressing shut as your teeth sunk into the flesh of your bottom lip. “right there”

“mhm” jackie hummed, her fingers sliding through your wetness. “oh baby, you’re so wet”

you were fairly certain that the whole house would hear if she kept this up: riding your thigh as she fucked two digits into you.

“jackie” you managed, trying desperately to keep quiet over the waves of pleasure she was sending down to your abdomen. her fingers dragged along your walls, coaxing breathy moans from your lips as you bucked up into her.

for this moment, it was easy enough to forget about the rest. to forget about everything beyond the doors of this guest room, as jackie humped your leg and pushed her fingers in as deep as they’d go, until you were both trembling with the force of your simultaneous orgasms.

then, later, she left again, sneaking through the halls of her very own home so no one would ever know of your nightly escapades. her shame, you realized, would follow the both of you through the holidays.

now, standing in this crowded room where you feel like an outsider, the weight of it all is starting to crush you all over again. you don’t belong here, amongst all of these people. you never did. jackie might be able to play the role but you’re certainly not.

the polished laughter, the clinking of glasses, the warm holiday lighting, it feels nothing but suffocating. jackie, despite the stolen kisses and the night spent together, has her perfectly practiced mask back in place, never acknowledging your presence any more than necessary.

you’re absentmindedly swirling your wine in the glass, trying to focus on the swaying lights of the christmas tree instead of jackie’s laugh across the room,when the door opens.

just when you thought this night couldn’t possibly get any worse, jeff walks in.

you watch jackie’s ex boyfriend stride through the front door in a wool coat, shaking snowflakes from his shoulders.

he looks exactly like the guy you’d imagined from her stories: tall, athletic, and perfectly at ease in his surroundings -so unlike you. jeff is carrying a bottle of wine as a hostess gift, and his stupid grin only widens when jackie’s mom rushes over to greet him.

“you made it!” mrs. taylor exclaims, practically glowing as she hurries past you to greet him.

you’d heard of jeff before; a passing mention here and there, a name dropped when jackie reminisced about high school. “we dated for a while,” she’d said once, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. but seeing him now, with jackie’s parents’ unabashed enthusiasm and the way he fits so seamlessly into the room, you realize it is a big deal.

“jaqueline, look who’s here!” mrs. taylor calls, pulling your girlfriend’s attention.

you watch jackie turn, her face lighting up in that familiar, performative way that’s become all too common during this trip.

“jeff!” she says, walking over to him and her mother as well. jackie hugs him, and he squeezes her back like they’re still the couple her parents clearly wish they were. “i didn’t know you’d be in town”

“just got back last night,” he replies, flashing a grin that’s all teeth and confidence. “figured i’d stop by and say hi to everyone. it’s been- what? a couple of years?”

“yeah” jackie nods, voice carrying just enough for you to hear.

“you look great, by the way” jeff says, so clearly checking her out that your fingers tighten around your glass. her mom pipes in, then, her voice practically bubbling with excitement.

“you two should catch up! it’s been so long, and, well, you always made such a good pair” she looks between them with a knowing smile. for a moment, you’re not even sure you heard her right. but then jacke laughs softly, almost shyly, and it’s like the air has been knocked right out of your lungs.

you stare down at your drink, your grip tightening until you’re afraid it might crack. jackie doesn’t correct her mom, of course, she doesn’t say a single thing to suggest that you might be the one she’s with now.

“right?” jeff says with a laugh. “we had some good times, didn’t we?”

you can’t do this. not anymore.

setting your glass down on the nearest table, you slip away, your heart pounding as you make your way through the crowd. no one notices as you step outside. no one follows you out into the freezing cold.

the porch is quiet, save for the faint hum of the party inside. you lean against the wooden railing, trying to steady your breathing, but the frustration boiling in your chest feels like it might spill over at any moment. this wasn’t how the trip was supposed to go. jackie was supposed to make you feel at home, like you belonged. instead, she’s left you out in the cold. both literally and figuratively. you’re not sure what hurts more: the way her family’s words cut deep, or the way jackie lets them.

you close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, but the sound of mrs. taylor’s words -you always made such a good pair- plays on repeat in your mind. jackie didn’t correct her. she didn’t even hesitate. you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to think anymore, not wanting to be here anymore at all. there are few times where you’ve ever felt so small, so invisible.

the sound of the door creaking open behind you pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace yourself, thinking for a moment that it might be jackie, but the footsteps are heavier, slower. when you glance back, you see a woman stepping out onto the porch. she’s holding a glass of wine, bundled up in a thick sweater.

she’s striking, though in a more quiet, understated way. dark hair frames her face and she wraps her arms tighter around herself after closing the door on her way out. when she catches your gaze, she offers a small, knowing smile before stepping closer.

“needed a breather too, huh?”

you nod, trying to shake off the weight of your thoughts. “yeah it’s a little…much in there”

she tips her head back when she laughs softly, leaning against the railing beside you. “that’s the taylor family for you. they really know how to throw a party!” she pauses, taking a sip of her wine before turning to you. “mind if i join you?”

you shake your head slightly, still struggling to figure out how to put into words what you’re feeling. the last few hours have been a mess of awkwardness, forced smiles, and the gnawing feeling that you’re not the person jackie wants anyone to know she’s with.

“you okay?” the woman asks.

“i’m fine,” you say quickly, trying to regain your composure.

she raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sympathetic half-smile. “yeah, you’re really good at looking fine. i’ll give you that”

you laugh, at least, the tension in your shoulders loosening just a fraction.

“i’m shauna, by the way. old friend of jackie’s!”

the name clicks immediately, and you blink in surprise. jackie mentioned her before: her best friend in high school, practically inseparable.

“oh i know you” you respond. “i’ve heard plenty about you. i’m- well, i’m a friend of jackie’s too, i guess”

shauna frowns at that, mouth twitching like she’s fighting back a smirk. “friend, huh?” she says, her tone light but pointed.

you flush, suddenly feeling exposed under her sharp gaze. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

she shrugs, setting her glass down on the railing. “oh, nothing. just…you don’t really seem like just a friend. but hey, what do i know?”

her words hit a little too close to home, and you look away, staring out at the snow-covered yard. “well, that’s what jackie wants everyone to think,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

shauna hums thoughtfully, and when you glance back at her, her expression has softened. there’s something almost sympathetic in her eyes now.

“you know,” she starts, leaning against the railing, “this feels familiar. jackie pretending someone important to her is just a friend. hiding what she really feels because she’s too scared of what her parents will think. too scared to risk upsetting the perfect little image they have of her…”

your breath catches in your throat, and you stare at her, unsure of what to say.

you only ever knew shauna as her best friend then, her teammate. yet the way she speaks of your girlfriend sounds all too familiar for somebody who was just that. maybe your truth isn’t the only jackie has been hiding away.

“you-“

“you’d be surprised how well i know,” shauna says with a sigh. “it’s exactly how it went with me and jackie, back in high school” she runs her hand through her hair, looking over her shoulder at the glowing house behind her.

“we were close” she begins. “really close. she kept us a secret, too. all of us. at first, i thought it was just me, you know? but then i realized, it wasn’t just about me. it was…about everything. about her parents and how she thought they wouldn’t accept it. about how she wanted to keep everything perfect for them, to the point where she couldn’t even see how much it was tearing her apart”

shauna drinks from her wine again.

“i let it happen because i thought…fuck i don’t even know, i thought it would change eventually. i mean, we were- what? 17?”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the parallels between her story and yours almost too much to bear, even after all these years. “did it?” you ask quietly, even though you already know the answer.

shauna shakes her head, looking down into her glass absentmindedly. “no. i got tired of waiting, tired of being a secret…”

“and jeff…?” you ask softly, not wanting to push too hard but needing to understand.

“jeff” she scoffs, humorless. “jackie was always so torn between us. like she couldn’t figure out what she wanted. eventually, it all came crashing down.” her voice drops, the bitterness more evident now. “she publicly outed us, well, me at a party with her friends. told everyone i was in love with her…and then she turned around and made it abundantly clear she was with jeff”

you can’t imagine how painful that must have been. “i’m sorry,” you say quietly. “that’s…really messed up”

shauna shrugs. “it’s okay. that was years ago. i just thought she’d, you know, tell her family by now”

“well” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest “she’s got me pretending too. it’s like i don’t even exist to her, not in front of her family”

shauna studies you for a long moment, then nods her head slowly. “yeah. that’s exactly what she does. jackie’s scared of being real. she used to be terrified of what people will think if they know who she really is”

you swallow hard, her words settling deep in your chest. “what did you do, then?”

“i walked away”

the silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the muffled sounds of the party inside.

“i’m not saying that’s what you should do,” shauna continues after a moment, her voice softer now. “but…just make sure you’re not the only one fighting for this. jackie’s a good person, but she’s always been scared of…rocking the boat. i suppose. if you’re the one taking all the hits to make this work…well, it’s worth thinking about”

she steps back from the railing slightly. “you don’t have to stay here and suffer through it. come on. there’s a bar down the road. we could use a drink”

the offer comes out of nowhere, but sounds like the perfect escape.

you meet shauna’s gaze, and without another word, she pushes off the railing and heads toward the stairs that lead down to the snowy driveway.

you don’t realize how late it is until you pull up to the driveway, the cool night air making your head swim a little more than it should.

you stumble quietly through the front door, the chill still clinging to your skin as you step into the warmth of the house. the buzz from the bar still lingers in your system, a pleasant haze that makes everything feel just a little bit softer, a little less heavy. the conversation (and drinks) with shauna had been a much-needed escape. she understood in a way that nobody else in this god forsaken place did. the night had felt like a brief breath of fresh air. now, as you close the door behind you and glance into the living room, you see jackie sitting there, waiting for you.

she’s perched on the edge of the couch, looking every bit the picture of genuine concern. her hands are folded tightly in her lap, her lips pressed into a thin line. as soon as she sees you, her eyes widen in relief, and she stands up quickly and rushes towards you.

“where the hell have you been?” her voice is quiet hiss. she’s been worried, you can tell even with the remains of alcohol in your system.

you take a deep breath and cross the room slowly, leaning your shoes by the door. “i was with shauna,” you say simply, trying to keep the annoyance from creeping into your tone. “i needed a break”

jackie seems to relax slightly, but her eyes remain narrow. “a break from what?” she asks. “where were you really?”

“i was really with shauna” you tell her, letting your weight drop onto the couch slightly less coordinated than intended. “she’s been through this before, you know? she had to hide who she was too. she saw right through everything tonight”

jackie bites her lip, clearly frustrated but unsure how to respond. “how long, jackie?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper. “how long have you been hiding this? hiding us?”

she flinches at the question, but you can’t look away. “i’ve been waiting for the right time,” she murmurs, the words coming out small and hesitant. “i thought maybe if i just- if i just kept it to myself, things would be easier and-“

“easier?” you repeat, the disbelief lacing your words. “you think this is easy for me, jackie? if you’re not ready, fine! but instead you’ve been treating me like i’m not here at all!”

“i know. i messed up” her voice is tight, close to breaking. jackie shakes her head. “i was just scared. i’m sorry for making you feel like that. you deserve so much more than that”

there’s a brief silence between you two, both of you trying to piece together the broken parts of this relationship. you feel the walls between you soften just a little, but the questions still linger. “what about shauna, jackie? what about her?”

jackie stiffens at the mention of shauna’s name, her jaw clenching slightly. “it’s not what you think,” she starts, her tone defensive. “shauna and i-“

“she told me the truth. she told me you two were together in high school…that you kept it a secret, just like you’re doing with me now. how long were you planning on hiding us?”

jackie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “it’s not like that. i was so scared of losing everything then. my family, my friends, the life i had. i should’ve told you the truth from the start. i should’ve trusted you more. i should’ve told you what happened with shauna. i really cared about her, and i guess i got scared again”

you feel a lump form in your throat as everything finally starts to sink in. you know it wasn’t just about her family; it was about jackie being terrified of her own feelings, of letting herself be vulnerable. she’d hidden in the safety of the closet for so long that she never stopped to think about how it was affecting those around her. those who loved her.

before you can respond, jackie takes your hands in hers. “i love you. and i’m so, so sorry. i should’ve been braver. i should’ve-“

you cut her off gently, your fingers reaching out to touch her arm. “it’s not just about bravery. it’s about…trust. i’ve been hiding myself for too long already, jackie. and i’m not going to go back there. i want us to be something real and-“

she moves closer to you. “you are something real to me,” she says softly. “i was just scared. but you’re right. i’ve been so damn scared that i was hiding from you, too. hiding from us”

you nod slowly, your heart still aching, but somehow lighter. you let out a shaky breath. “then show me, jackie. be real with me now”

jackie’s lips curl into a small smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see the truth in her eyes. she nods, then pulls you toward her, wrapping her arms around you.

“i will. i promise,” she whispers into your ear, holding you tightly. “i’ll fix this. i want to fix this!”

you take a deep breath and pull her in a little tighter too, running her fingers through her hair gently. you can feel tears in her eyes where she’s burying her face in the crook of your neck and decide you won’t let this be. her, loving someone is not going to cause anyone involved any more pain ever again. you cup her cheeks, tenderly, and let jackie be the one to close the distance.

she kisses you gently and, with the soft touch, the anger melts away.

jackie’s hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world outside fades. it’s just the two of you, standing in the quiet.

just as you’re about to pull away, you hear footsteps behind you. the sound is light but distinct and your heart is instantly plummeting to your stomach. you freeze, lips still only inches from hers, and when you finally open your eyes, you see mrs. taylor standing in the doorway.

she’s watching the two of you with wide eyes, her expression unreadable. suddenly the whole room feels too warm, too still. you pull back from jackie, your body stiffening as you glance nervously between her and her mom.

jackie’s hand falls from your waist, and she steps forward slightly, shielding you without even thinking. you’re not sure if that makes things feel better or worse.

“mrs. taylor, i-“ you stammer, finding your voice before jackie does. you try to think of something, anything, to explain what she just walked in on. “it’s not what you think. we just-“

before you can come up with a blatant lie, jackie cuts you off. “no, it is” she says. you glance at her in surprise, seeing the tension in her jaw, the resolve in her eyes. this once, she doesn’t hesitate as she continues, her gaze fixed on her mother. “it’s exactly what you think, actually”

mrs. taylor blinks, her expression shifting slightly. she looks more startled than anything else, but there’s no immediate explosion, no anger like a part of you had already anticipated. just silence. jackie takes another step forward.

“i’m- i’m gay,” she says firmly, though you can hear the slight tremor in her voice. “and i’m with her” jackie gestures toward you without breaking eye contact with her mom. “y/n is my girlfriend”

your feel your breath hitch in your throat, and your hand instinctively finds jackie’s. her fingers curl around yours immediately. for a few seconds, you think maybe her mom might yell, might storm out, might say something you’ll never be able to forgive.

but then, to your utter shock, mrs. taylor lets out a soft, almost amused breath. “well,” she says. “i suppose i’ve suspected that for a while now”

you blink blankly, the words taking a moment to register. “you…what?” jackie’s voice falters as she stares at her mom in disbelief.

“you think i haven’t noticed the way you’ve been with her? the way you look at her? jaqueline, i’ve known you your whole life. you’re my daughter. of course i’ve noticed”

her mom crosses her arms, leaning lightly against the doorframe, her tone becoming more conversational. “i didn’t want to push you. i figured you’d tell me when you were ready. but i’m glad you’re finally saying it out loud”

you feel the weight in your chest ease just a little. jackie, however, takes a step back toward you, her voice softer now. “so you’re- you’re… okay with this?”

mrs. taylor’s gaze flickers between the two of you, and for a moment, she seems to consider her. “of course i’m okay with it,” she says finally. “i want you to be happy. and if this, if she, makes you happy, then that’s what matters”

you can’t help the small, disbelieving laugh that escapes you, and Jackie looks at you like she’s not entirely sure this is real. you squeeze her hand, your heart pounding, but for the first time in days, it’s not from stress or fear.

mrs. taylor smiles gently, her gaze lingering on the two of you. “i’ll leave you two to it for now,” she says, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. but before she disappears completely, she pauses, glancing back with a raised eyebrow. “oh, and for the record? you don’t need to sneak around. this is your house, too, jaqueline. act like it!”

with that, she’s gone, leaving you and jackie standing there in stunned silence. you turn to her, searching her face for any sign of what she’s feeling, but she just lets out a shaky laugh, pulling you into her arms before you’re able to speak.

“did that really just happen?” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

you nod, smiling as you hug her back tightly. “yeah,” you whisper, your voice filled with something that feels an awful lot like hope. “it did”

the morning sun filters softly through the frost-lined windows on christmas day, casting a warm glow over the taylor family’s living room.

the place is alive with the soft sounds of christmas music playing and the rustling of wrapping paper coming from beneath the tree, where jackie’s nephews are excitedly tearing through the paper.

you’re sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, your back supported by the couch, while jackie is perched lightly on your lap. it’s casual, but it’s not hidden. not this time. her arm is draped around your shoulders, and one of her hands is laced with yours, fingers warm and steady. it’s a small thing, her hand in yours, but it feels monumental. a sign of trust. of progress.

her mom is seated on the armchair, holding a steaming mug of coffee as she chats easily with jackie’s dad, who’s fiddling with the fireplace.

her sister in-law sits nearby alongside jackie’s brother, watching their son shaking a gift box suspiciously, trying to gauge its contents. for the first time since you arrived, it feels like you can truly breathe.

jackie shifts slightly, leaning back against you, and you instinctively tighten your hold on her waist. her thumb brushes across your knuckles absentmindedly. the tension from the past week still lingers in small, barely-there ways: an unspoken promise that there are things to talk through and feelings to unpack. for now, there’s peace. you’d had the hard conversations late last night, voices hushed as the house slept. jackie had been honest, apologetic, and ready to work toward earning your trust back, which made you feel like you could meet her halfway.

“hey, you two,” mrs. taylor calls from her spot. she’s smiling warmly. “there’s enough under there to keep us busy until next christmas” she nods towards the tree. “i’m sure you’ll find some for you too”

jackie grins, sitting up straighter and stretching lazily. “what do you say?” she murmurs, turning her head to look at you. “think we can handle it?”

the morning stretches on, filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional playful argument over whose turn it is to open a gift. the entire time, jackie stays close, whether it’s sitting beside you on the floor or returning to your lap with a smug smile after grabbing another cup of coffee. her family doesn’t comment on the closeness, doesn’t send pointed looks or make veiled remarks. they just let it be, and that, more than anything, makes you feel welcome. you’re no longer just a spectator to their celebration, you feel like a part of it.

at one point, as the gift pile dwindles and the music shifts to a jazzy rendition of “silent night,” jackie leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “thank you,” she whispers.

you tilt your head to look at her, your brow furrowing slightly. “for what?”

“for being here,” she says, her gaze soft and sincere. “for being patient. for…everything”

“of course” you squeeze her hand, offering her a small smile. “merry christmas, jackie”

“merry christmas” jackie smiles. her lips are on yours before you get a chance to process everything.

[spicywreck]

Season 4 AU where Mike leaves Rachel after finding out about the kiss but doesn't want to go back to Pearson Specter. He's done living as a fraud. Harvey, feeling guilty and sympathizing with Mike's pain, offers up his guest room to stay at while he figures out his living arrangements (Mike doesn't want to go back to his apartment because it was Rachel who made it look like a home... it all feels too much like Rachel.)

It's hard to live with Harvey because Mike knows that Harvey expects great things from him, but right now he's adrift, clueless, at times he doesn't know what he likes; did he ever know what he really wanted?

Harvey tries to make it easy for him: he doesn't ask for rent, offers to pay for groceries, buys Mike a new bike when his old one ultimately falls apart. Mike wishes to return his genorosity so he starts cleaning around the house, tidies up the place, makes dinner (his famous Grammy's spaghetti sauce) on the days he knows Harvey has had too much take out.

They build a routine, Mike and Harvey. They have breakfast together. They text each other throughout the day. They plan movie nights. They go out for drinks every Friday.

(tags for under the cut: domesticity, misunderstanding, love confessions, soft & yearning!Harvey, mild sexual content, Mike and Harvey are in love and meant to be, your honor!)

Mike doesn't even realize their dynamic has changed till he watches Harvey reject a pretty waitress, "It was nice chatting, but we're gonna have to go home pretty soon. Early morning."

Which is bullshit. Harvey doesn't have "early mornings", he arrives to the office whenever he damn well pleases. Mike confronts him when they get home (and when did he start seeing Harvey's apartment as theirs?), which Harvey first rebuffs as "letting the girl down easy". Mike calls him out on it.

"You haven't brought anyone since I moved in," Mike says, feeling flustered for some reason. "You haven't gone out with anyone, actually! You spend all your free time here—with me."

"Mike," Harvey warns, voice sharp and authoritative; so reminiscent of their old dynamic. "Just let it go."

"No. I'm not letting it go!"

Because Mike is stubborn. Mike knows Harvey is lying to him. Mike's brain won't let him forget Harvey's softness in the mornings, Harvey's easy smiles, Harvey's dorky nature behind closed doors. He can't. He won't—

"Just tell me if I'm an inconvenience to you," Mike finally says. "Just... You need to stop living your whole life around my comfort. I'm a grown man. I can find a job. I can get a new place. I can stop bothering you."

Harvey stares him down, face hard, unreadable. Mike's insecurities rise to the surface at that expression.

I have been bothering you, he thinks. And starts walking to the exit, keys in hand, mind racing for solutions: to get a new place, to save his friendship with Harvey.

Mike makes it about three steps before Harvey stops him.

"You were always shit at reading people," he says, still standing exactly where he is.

Mike turns back, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Mike," Harvey sighs, letting the poker face fall; letting Mike see the vulnerability in his eyes. "I didn't invite the girl back to my place because I didn't want her here."

"Because you need your privacy—"

"Because I haven't wanted to invite anyone back to my place since you've moved in," Harvey corrects. "Because... I want to take care of you."

Mike's mouth falls open. "...What?"

"I want to take care of you," Harvey repeats, drifting his gaze down to the floor; and wow, is Harvey Specter actually nervous? "I want you here, in our home, till— Fuck, Mike. I want you in my life. I don't want anyone else."

Mike continues to stare, dumbfounded. Till his brain finally clicks it for him.

"Oh my God, you're in love with me."

Harvey shrugs, too nonchalant for Mike's liking.

"Harvey—"

"You can stay as long as you like," he cuts him off. "And I don't expect anything, alright? If you're uncomfortable, I can find you a new place right away. But I swear, Mike, don't leave before you're ready just because I said—"

Mike strides across the room on a mission.

He grabs Harvey's cheeks, lifts them up, forces those deep brown eyes to look back at him—and spots the heaviness in them.

Mike won't ever forget. He wouldn't even if he had the choice. The great Harvey Specter, looking at Mike Ross with only love in his eyes.

"You're in love with me," he whispers, dazed. "With me, Harv."

Harvey's eyes twist in pain, and no, no, no— Mike won't allow that.

"You dumb son of a bitch," Mike tells him, which makes Harvey snap from the pain, even if irritated. "I thought you read people for a living!"

"Mike—"

"Harvey, I've been in love with you from the fucking beginning!"

It's Harvey's turn to look out of place, lips parting in shock, eyes softening at the confession.

"God, Mike," and he murmurs his name with so much longing it... Mike's mind is made up.

He cuts the distance between them, smacking their lips together. It's not a perfect kiss, by far. Their noses bump into each other. The movement was too brash, too hard. But he felt Harvey sigh against him. He heard his moan. It was everything.

Harvey's perfect manicured hands come to rest on Mike's hips, pulling him further into Harvey's space. They caress his waist. They find their way under his shirt. Mike gasps as Harvey's warm fingers grip his bare skin.

"Mike," Harvey moans, before his teeth come to pull on his lower lip. "Oh, Mike. We wasted so much time."

Mike imagines brushing his hand down his hair, imagining how it might feel, how it would be like to caress the back of his head. Except Harvey is kissing him on the mouth with tongue. So he doesn't have to imagine anything. He does exactly what he wants, and is surprised at how soft his hair feels. How good it is to hear Harvey groan as Mike's fingers touch his head.

Harvey brushes his forehead against Mike's. And Mike smiles, knowing they can never go back; he doesn't ever want to go back.

"Let's not waste one more second then," he says, and brushes his lips over Harvey's warm neck, sucks a kiss right over his pulse—because if you're closing the love of your life, you go all in.

"God, Mike," Harvey moans his name like it means everything. Mike whimpers without meaning to.

At that, Harvey's hands drift below. Fondle Mike's ass.

Then pulls him up by the back of his thighs. Mike's makes a surprised sound—he did not yelp—and his legs wrap around Harvey on instinct.

Harvey looks up at him with more than amusement. A fondness, he thinks. Sees it.

Harvey smiles like he just won the biggest poker game in his life. Mike can't help but laugh at how soft he looks.

Which Harvey shushes quickly with a second not-so-perfect kiss; a bit too much tongue.

And delivers Mike to the main bedroom. Lays him down on the soft silk sheets. Kisses him, over and over; those kisses turning more perfect by the second. Harvey touches Mike. Makes him come to the point of exhaustion; so, so much, one orgasm after another, till his eyelids turn heavy and he can't help but fall asleep on Harvey's bed.

Which was totally the plan. Because Harvey wakes him with lingering kisses the next morning. Whispers, "I love you," into the back of his neck. Doesn't let him get up till Mike has had another earth-shattering orgasm given by the one and only Harvey Specter.

"I could get used to this," Mike croaks, once he finds the energy.

"Good," Harvey says, all too proud of himself. "Because I have no intention of letting you go."

The amazing Mike Ross snickers. Kisses the confusion off Harvey's face. Before proclaiming, "I was never planning on leaving either, dumbass."

Suffice to say, they don't leave their bedroom till much, much later, when their stomachs beg for sustenance other than each other.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 3

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

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

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

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

“Got you some sheets,” you say as you enter the front room.  

Bucky pulls on the foldout frame and it catches, like it always does. It offers little resistance as he wrenches on it and unfurls with a metallic whine. The legs stamp on the floor and he stands straight. 

“Sorry, not tryna break the place,” he narrows his eyes at the stubborn piece of furniture. 

“Like I said, everything around here is old.” 

“So I fit right in, got it,” his brows flick. 

“Not exactly what I meant,” you set the stacks of sheets, a quilt, and a pillow on the mattress. “Need help?” 

“Think I can figure it out. You don’t do cot inspections, do you?” He asks. 

You hesitate before you realise he’s joking. 

“You got until 1900 hours to get that made up,” you try to kid back then immediately make a face. “You know what, ignore that. I’m gonna have a decaf. Need anything?” 

His cheek dimples and he shakes his head, “got more than enough.” 

He turns and moves the linens. You retreat quickly. You can’t believe you’re such a weirdo. You could blame the fact that you rarely have company and those people who do stop by are backwoods seniors, but he’s even older than them. In spirit, at least. 

You load the drip filter with decaf grinds and sit at the table as you wait. Your eyes skim the faded wallpaper. You remember when you were a kid and you’d come to visit Grandma. You’d sit and count the flowers as she baked a pie. It was the one place where you weren’t afraid. 

“Mind if I grab some water?” Bucky’s voice slices through the veil of nostalgia and you flinch. You sit up and cross your arms. 

“In the fridge,” you sniff and stand as the kettle starts to boil.  

You pour over the filter and wait for it to brew. Bucky opens a cupboard and takes out a glass. He’s quiet as he fills it and puts the jug back in the fridge. You stand at the counter awkwardly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter and flee before he can answer. 

The adrenaline of his arrival has worn away. Your social battery is dying and you’re receding back into your usual introverted troll. You go down to the linen closet and take out a peachy towel, hand towel, and wash cloth. 

You come back down to the front room. He’s not there. You leave the armful on the bed. It’s neatly made; straight edges, not a wrinkle. You return to the kitchen and sniff as you fidget. 

“I left some towels on your bed, in case you need to wash up,” you toy with the zipper of your collar. “Tomorrow we can hit the grocery store in case you need anything. Soap or... whatever.” 

“Packed it. Got used to living out of a bag,” he assures you. 

“Fair,” you agree. 

You blow out through your lips and return to the counter. The mug is full. You dump the filter and rinse the pour-over lid. You put it in the rack and pick up the cup. You stare into the dark brew as if you might just dive in and hope to drown. 

“Hey, look,” he says, “don’t worry about keeping me up or nothing. I don’t really sleep so...” 

“Yeah,” you swallow. “I... I do my work here. That’s my desk,” you point to the table. “I got headphone though.” 

“Right, I can stay out of the way,” he shows a palm. “Kinda my whole thing. In and out without being seen.” 

You look at him. He’s right but the context is not so funny. The thought of what he’s done makes you little leery. 

“I’ll let you enjoy your coffee. Could stand to stretch out after the ride up.” 

He takes his glass and heads for the door, tapping the frame with his fingers before he passes through. It’s a bit reassuring that he’s just as awkward. You guess it will be like that until you get used to each other. You really hope Sam doesn’t leave him up here long enough for you to be used to each other. 

You pick up the mug and quietly shuffle out. You keep your eyes down the hallway as you go to your room. You close yourself in, careful not to shut the door too heavily, and go to your bed. You put the cup on the night stand and sigh. 

Sam is going to get an earful, once your signal comes in. He really just dropped this grown man on you like you’re some sort of boarding house. As much as he did for you, this seems like a little much. Well, he’s never been very good at knowing the limit. 

You get up and change into a loose pair of pajama pants and a cozy sleep shirt. The nights get colder as the season passes. Fall won’t stave off the frost much longer. 

Maybe that will drive him away. This country isn’t exactly famous for its hospitable weather. The scenery might be nice and some of the people, but there’s not much else. Not unless you enjoy the wildlife. The crows, the squirrels, the chipmunks, wild hares, and groundhogs. Then there’s the more deadly ones; coyotes, bears, and moose.  

You really don’t think Sam thought any of this out. After all, who wants to be in Canada. Especially someone like Bucky. Someone who’s been all around the world, who lived in one of liveliest cities on the planet. This bodunk town in the north is going to bore him right back to his own country. 

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 4

Danny woke up to a stream of sunlight on his face. The room was just as rich as he remembered, he stood up and stretched a bit before he heard a knock at the door.

It was Alfred bringing him a change of clothes, “Breakfast is ready, Master Danny. You can find the dining room down the hall to the left.” the old butler smiled at him. 

“You don’t have to call me Master, Alfred, I’m not your Damian.” Danny said, turning around to address him.

“Ah, yes, however you are still Master Bruce’s son, even from another world.” The butler gave him a cheeky smile.

Danny shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he was decent again, he headed down to the dining room. 

The room was just as fancy as the rest of the house with a chandelier and ornate vases. 

Danny noticed Damian and a few others already seated at the table. Damian wore what Danny could only assume was his rich kid school uniform. He sat across from Damian who made a small ‘Tt’ and turned away from him. 

Next to Damian was Tim who put away his laptop once Danny sat down. Tim was wearing a business suit, a dark red colored one. “Ah, you sleep much longer than Damian does, you must have been tired.” Tim smiled at him.

Also seated at the table and wearing a navy blue suit, was Bruce himself. He was drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Stop comparing me to him, Drake, I’m nothing like this imposter.” Looks like Damian still thought he was a clone. 

Whatever, he shrugged it off and filled his plate. 

“I don’t really have a lot of free time,” was all Danny said before he started eating.

Tim kind of watched him for a minute, he looked kind of shocked for a second, “You’re eating meat??” 

Ah so that was another difference between them, “again, I’m Danny, I’m not Damian.”

Damian scoffed, “So that’s what you call yourself, imposter.”

Danny gave Damian a tired sigh, looks like the him of this universe was a lot more prideful than he was. Danny went through way too much to carry the same, dying and being crown prince of the infinite realms wasn’t exactly something he was born into. Danny was a bit jealous if he was being honest with himself. 

“Damian, please at least attempt to be friendly. Danny is our guest for the meantime.” Bruce said, putting his newspaper down. He then turned his attention to Danny, “I know it isn’t ideal but I think it’ll be best for you to stay here until we can get you to your own world. I’m planning a trip to the Watchtower tomorrow so I can speak with some of my colleagues about the situation.” 

Danny sighed but nodded his head, “I get it, you can’t have two of us running around.”

“Quite, you’re more than welcome to go around the mansion and the grounds, I’d also like to invite you along to the Watchtower but we’d need to come up with a disguise for you, secret identity and everything.” Bruce continued after taking another sip from his mug, “Alfred will still take you out today to get some basic necessities for you. We’ll get you a proper disguise so you're able to go with him.”

Danny nodded again and continued eating. He thought things over as he ate, he technically had a disguise they could use for the Watchtower but Danny was still on the fence on what exactly he’d tell everyone here.

It wasn’t exactly an easy conversation to have, thankfully some more people arrived for breakfast.

Master Post:

Last:

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[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day 8: Dealer’s Choice

[Based off Home Warfare]

It is often said that there’s no place like home. In a way, Jaune found that absolutely true. A certain level of stress was achievable each time he came home; it’s why Saph rarely did. It’s also said home is where the heart is. Now he wasn’t sure if Beacon was a place he’d call home just yet, but the friends he was making there were never far from his mind.

Never could he imagine bot sayings would mix, or rather, face off. To say sitting at the dinner table with his parents and Ruby was surreal would be a massive understatement.

Persephone:How’s the steak treating ya?

Ruby:It’s pretty good! The sauce here is a little more sweet than what I’m used to. Patch likes it smoky flavors.

Harold:Nothing wrong with that. As long as it’s medium, ya can’t go wrong! Though the blood always made a few people skittish.

Jaune:Some people prefer their food actually cooked.

Harold:It’s cooked enough! You and your well done nonsense. Although I guess it served you well. Chewing through leather must make taking a blow to the chin light work.

Ruby:Jaune doesn’t get it often actually. Even in sparring I find it pretty rough to get through a shield that size.

Harold:It’s worth its weight in gold.

Persephone:It got dear old through the war. Protecting my boy is well within its means. Haha, as long as he can raise it. I still remember the way you stumbled out the door when you left.

Jaune:*red* It was awkward to hold.

Harold:Tori and Aqua seemed to carry it just fine when they tuned it.

Ruby:Those are the twins, right? I was going to mention how quiet this place was. I was expecting seven different voices name calling by now.

Jaune:Saph, the oldest, doesn’t live here. As for the twins, they’re still at the apprenticeships?

Persephone:Yep! Blacksmithing is no easy task but it runs in our veins. Our youngest teaches at a combat school while the other two moved out a while ago. You can find them in town easy enough if they aren’t knee deep in paperwork.

Jaune:They help process official missions.

Ruby:The entire family really does have heroism in it. That’s pretty cool, but…didn’t they know you were coming home?

Harold:He hasn’t exactly been gone long. If the stories pile high they’ll come flocking in. Until then it’s almost like he’s never left. Except for the obvious company. They definitely would’ve showed up if they knew a girl would show up.

Persephone:Speaking of which…

Jaune: Oh boy…

Persephone:So you two are both leaders and have rooms next to each other. You must spend a lot of time together? More than normal.

Ruby:I guess you could say that? Though still not as much as with his team obviously.

Persephone:Of course! Wouldn’t be very leader like otherwise. He’s also told us the Pyrrha Nikos helps to train him. Honestly after hearing that I got far less worried about his safety.

Jaune:That’s fair honestly.

Harold:If anyone can whip you into shape it’s a champion. Be sure not to slack off.

Persephone:I don’t he would in the presence of such company. Much like you at his age, he’ll try to perform to hard in front of women. I mean look how straight he’s sitting right now.

Jaune:Ma!

Persephone:I’m only teasing! Although it can’t be stressed enough. You always crack a bit under pressure. Between learning to be a huntsman and any unforeseen yet healthy distractions, I’d hate to hear that you were messing up like when it came to smithing.

Harold:I’m sure Ms. Nikos can cover whatever mistakes appear. Although too many of them and they just might rearrange your team letters and put her in the front, haha! Better stay on your toes.

The two parents shared a mutual laugh while Jaune let out a much smaller one as he barely touched his food. The last thing Ruby expected was for her own face getting hot. Parents might not always say or do the right thing but to go this far in front of guest? It just felt…cruel. She decided to look at her food instead of any of their expressions. Each one would only give her another reason to potentially say something she shouldn’t.

Ruby:One of my teammates actually tried taking my spots. It was a whole mess. Though I guess egos run high when you’re a Schnee.

Harold:You’re partners with a Schnee?

Ruby:Yep. It’s a lifestyle. Heh, kidding. I think she’s pretty cool now but we did not gel. Not surprised though. I accidentally almost blew us both up on the first day. Not my finest moment.

Persephone:You were dealing with explosives on the first day?

Ruby:I wish I could say yes to that but no. I- point is mistakes were made! Lots of them. Still, it’s a learning curve and now even she thinks I’m capable of greatness. Pyrrha is much nicer than my partner, and Jaune hasn’t made half the mistakes I have. She wouldn’t want his spot. Most of the new years look up to his leadership skills. Even me.

Jaune:Pfft, you’re way better.

Ruby:As a fighter, but you’re easily more level headed. You want to prove yourself just as badly as I do but I’m the one who gets antsy. Did he tell you about the DeathStalker and Nevermore?!

Harold:He’s mentioned it, yes.

Ruby:Gotta admit, that’s pretty impressive! Brand new team and working out a plan so easily. There’s a chance my team would be in the shape it is now if his wasn’t there. Your kid is pretty awesome.

Harold:Hmm, he is, isn’t he? I didn’t realize how chaotic the situation actually was.

Ruby:I really can’t speak on your son cracking under pressure in the past, but I haven’t seen it since I’ve known him. Unless it’s a test.

Jaune:Anatomy is hard…

Ruby:In a serious situation, Jaune always steps up. *smiles* It’s what makes him so cool!

For the first time since he’s been here, Jaune didn’t blush out of embarrassment. Without knowing it, he even cracked a smile.

The rest of dinner felt a tad bit lighter. Only a tad, but it meant everything to actually take a comfortable breath. Ruby graciously volunteered to help with dishes but Persephone refused, dragging her husband into the kitchen to help while Jaune helped Ruby bring her things to his room. It would be rude to take the twins unprepared beds and Ruby quickly learned that officially moving out turned old rooms into hobby spaces. Now she feared for her room back home. Regardless, after they persuaded her to sleep here, she was already set on bunking with Jaune. It’ll be no different than their missions so his parents didn’t make an uproar.

She entered the room that was covered with posters of comic heroes, blades, and unfolded laundry that remained in a chair. They really were similar. Jaune took a moment to fall backwards on dark blue sheets and sigh loudly.

Jaune:Uuuuuggggghhhh…..

Ruby:Yeah that’s fair. Can I say something honest? You okay?

Jaune:I will be. Thanks.

Ruby:Can I tell you something I learned today?

Jaune:*sits up* Hmm?

Ruby:I don’t like your parents.

Jaune:I noticed. It’s okay.

Ruby:I’m surprised you really came to visit. Kinda ticked off at your sister’s too. No message or quick hello. I don’t know how you do it.

Jaune:I still love them. We all have our hang ups…

Ruby:Speaking of which, so blacksmithing was a career choice?

Jaune:Not really. I don’t want to talk about it.

Ruby:We don’t have to. But if you ever want to practice the craft, I’d be more than happy to teach you. Tuition is singing my praises.

Jaune:Hehehe, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.

He looked down at his hands for a moment, recalling the unpleasant past experience. By the time he looked back up, Ruby was right in front of him. The young woman didn’t think twice about straddling the knight, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her forward gently press against his. A sense of ease washed over him as he took another breath. Jaune held her waist and shut his eyes, enjoying Ruby’s presence.

Jaune:Thank you for being here. I’m glad.

Ruby:Don’t mention it. Now then, I should probably get off ya before anyone opens that door and has reason to start another conversation. *gets off* Plus I need a shower.

Jaune:I don’t want to think about that. As for the bath, it’s third door in the right.

Ruby:By the way, you have anything comfy to wear? Spare pajamas or a shirt?

Jaune:You didn’t pack sleeping clothes?

Ruby:Hey, I was gonna sleep in a hotel alone! Why would I pack pajama pants when I could experience true freedom?

Jaune:Is that why you were skirts and tights so often? I’m actually shocked to see you in shorts.

Ruby:Yeah I don’t know how you wear jeans in all kinds of weather. I’d be miserable.

He got up and went to his dresser to pull out red basketball shorts he tossed her way.

Ruby:Shirt?

Jaune:You were seriously gonna sleep naked in a hotel.

Ruby:Try it sometime! It’s peaceful.

He rummaged around till he pulled out a one of his hold gray shirts and gave it to her.

Ruby:*smirking* Did you avoid pulling out Pumpkin Pete shirts?

Jaune:Don’t do this to me…

She put her hands up and slowly left in peace, snickering the entire time. Jaune returned to falling on his bed. Yeah, he definitely missed Beacon.