#like. i finally know where the story's going but do i know how it will end? fuck no.

[saltynsassy31]

Full disclaimer, I have to read any of the fics written for Shockwave and the kids yet as I've been busy and off Tumblr for a bit for my own mental health lol

But I recently saw a photo of an abandoned carousel in some underground area filled with puddles and it reminded me of that one deleted scene from Detroit: Become Human where the Jerry's make a broken carousel work again for Alice and they all just watched her happily play on it as the world around them crumbled.

And, with that thought, it also reminded me of Shockwave and the kids and I simply HAD to write a small drabble fic of it. Sorry if it isn't accurate for the characters or the story already made, but I hope it's enjoyed regardless :3

And, I hope, with all the angst going on, this fluffy story will satisfy yall a bit XD

[This is the post I saw that inspired me to write this, if anyone wants a visual of the place: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGog_W_vDiR/?igsh=b3FsYm50enJhM3ln ]

AU belongs to @keferon

Carousel

~☆~

As the days went by, the situation they all found themselves in was slowly starting to get far too real. It was fun, at first, running around abandoned buildings and scavenging for whatever they could find, spending time with their newly acquired aquatic dad friend who kept them safe and well fed.

But then things started to show up and it scared them. Shockwave tried to avoid the areas with the most floating bodies, the children having seen enough of that (and he hoped they hadn't seen any they would recognise), but every now and then something would float up and startle them. Other times they'd run into bigger problems while scavenging and they had far too many close calls for Shockwave's liking.

They tend to keep themselves entertained, for the most part. Shockwave only occasionally indulged. But, usually, he could simply gently float on the surface of the water and let the kids tire themselves out. However, they've become more quiet lately.

It was hard to tell what caused it. Could be a myriad of things, as listed before, maybe it was finally starting to dawn on them how the situation was far from ideal. Maybe it was the conversation they had with that Orca - Jazz, was it? Shockwave couldn't tell, and it bothered him.

He missed their lively chatter (it still happened, but few and far between). A part of him was starting to wonder if the humans who called him out on the fact that this wasn't normal behaviour for human children were right, a small pang of regret reaching the back of his mind.

But he shook those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Nothing about their situation was normal anyway, he was already providing more than enough for them to survive this cruel world.

Shockwave was aggressively pulled out of his drifting thoughts by an ear piercing screech that immediately put him on high alert.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” He heard Skids say. Turning to look at him, he followed where the boy was pointing at.

It looked to be some kind of fair or theme part, it was a little hard to tell. Half of it was submerged, but there were some areas in which the water had receded. Shockwave relaxed once he deemed the situation safe, but still gave a small scrutinising glare at Skids for causing unnecessary concern - which went, of course, completely ignored.

“Oh wow, it looks pretty banged up, huh?” Tc noted, crawling closer to the edge of Shockwave's back to get a better look.

“But there might still be some things left over. You know how much they tend to sell in these places? And now we can just snag them!” Warp argued, already getting excited at the thought.

“Do we really need more useless things to carry around?” Trailbreaker argued, the bag he carried strangely heavier on his back.

“There are other things we could do there.” Skids quickly chimed in. “We could check out some of the games they have.”

“Would there be any still working?”

“Carnival games easy to fix, Soundwave up to the task.”

They all turned to look at Soundwave, seemingly to silently fall into an agreement.

Warp turned to face Shockwave, clasping his hands together as he pleaded. “Can we go there? Pretty pleaaaase?” Before he could even answer, the others had joined them.

He wasn't going to say no. This was the exact type of fun distraction they needed, maybe it would help them go back to their usual, energetic selves. So the theatrics were unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help the small amusement it brought him. He pretended to think it over, as if he didn't already have their answer.

“Hmm, I don't know…”

Those simple words were enough to make them all Start to plead harder, making their eyes as big as possible, throwing promises he knew they'd never actually follow through.

That broke the façade he was trying to play up, causing him to laugh. “Alright, alright. We can go.” The kids erupted into celebratory cheers, hugging each other and jumping on Shockwave's back. “But don't stray so far where I can't reach you, okay?”

They all nodded, but he only had trust in some of them to actually obey his orders.

Regardless, he swam over to the abandoned park and waited until they had slid off of him before crawling over onto land. The ground was still pretty wet, so it made it easier for him to slide around and follow them, keeping himself to the more deeper puddles when possible.

He watched as they all went to different directions with their own, small group. Tc and Warp, always tied to the hip, ran over to some of the stands that still had some prizes hanging. Windcharger and Trailbreaker followed Damus as he ran to play some of the games that didn't require power to work. And Skids and Soundwave went…

Where did they go?

Panic immediately followed the realisation. Shockwave stood up straighter and began to spin his head around in search of the two missing kids. The others didn't seem to have noticed their absence, too enthralled in their own activity.

He was about to start calling when he heard a familiar boisterous voice call from not too far. “Guys! Over here! Come see what me and Soundwave just discovered!”

Immediately, all of the attention was on Skids who had a smile so wide Shockwave was worried he'd hurt himself with it. The others looked at each other briefly before making their way over, Damus hesitating a bit before putting down the fishing rod he held and following the rest.

Shockwave did so as well, to the best of his abilities anyway. The further they went, the tighter the space became and less water reached the surface for him to easily slide around. He wanted to voice his complaint of them going too far, like he had explicitly told them not to before coming here (and really, he thought Warp would have disobeyed first before Soundwave. Skids made sense, but him?) But before he could even think of what to say, Skids noticed his struggle and seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” He jogged over to the mer shark and gently grabbed at one of his fingers to guide him elsewhere. “There's an opening that takes you directly to the area we found. You have to swim underneath some rubble, but it should fit you.”

The boy took him to some dilapidated attraction of the park, it was too broken to tell what it used to be, but it did create an opening that allowed Shockwave to fit through perfectly fine. “Just swim straight ahead and it should take you to the area, we'll meet you there.”

Immediately, Shockwave didn't like that idea, and he didn't need to voice his thoughts for the teen to catch on, his glare doing the job just fine. “It'll be fine, don't worry! It's not that far. Less than a minute, probably less than a second for you since you're so big you'll just have to slide in and out. Besides, there's nothing here, the place is completely barren.”

Shockwave was still unconvinced.

Skids took to pleading. “Please! It'll be quick, I promise you. And worth it too! It's the exact thing we've been needing, and Soundwave put a lot of work on it. I know you don't like leaving us alone for even a second, but give it a chance?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Skids making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and Shockwave hoping the stubborn teen would dispel this idea with his glare alone.

In the end, Skids guppy eyes were far too powerful even for a great shak such as Shockwave. And the kid was right, wasn't this what he wanted for them to begin with?

He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and reluctantly agreed to it. “Fine. I trust you, but if anything shows up–”

“We don't engage with it and call for you, yes, I know. Now go! Soundwave is waiting!” Skids ushered Shockwave to submerge himself into the large opening with the wave of his hands and only joined back with the others once he could no longer see the large mer.

One relief Shockwave had was that the tunnel formed was large enough that he could easily turn around and pop back out if he heard any of the kids in danger, though it also lacked any proper escape for him as it only had one direction for him to go. Straight ahead or backwards. 

But Skids was right in saying the trip was short, he could already hear the muffled voices of his children. Soon enough, he found himself resurfacing, the lively chatter being the first thing his senses picked up on.

When the children heard the splash of water, they all turned to look towards the source of the noise, their excitement almost blindingly radiat in contrast to the dark, murky room they found themselves in.

The place was closed off by fallen buildings that created a sort of cave around them, plenty of fauna already making its home here. It was fairly empty as well, save for the large, round attraction in the middle of the room. It had horses stuck to poles inside it, a dim pink and gold decorating the whole thing, the paintings that littered it had long since faded and it was hard to tell what it once was.

“Okay, you're here, good.” Skids turned to Soundwave, who was standing next to what looked to be a control panel. “Soundwave, would you do us the honours?”

The other teen nodded, bending down to start pulling at some wires in place of pressing the buttons offered. Warp scoffed, crossing his arms and looking skeptically at his friend. “There's no power here, how in the world are you going to get it to work? I swear, if you brought us all the way here for nothing I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of music and light echoed loudly around the empty space, causing everyone to flinch back and cover their ears. Shockwave nervously looked around, worried that the loud noise might have attracted some unwanted attention. Once the shock faded, Skids ran up to Soundwave and gestured proudly at the now working carousel.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh…how is this possible!?” Warp questioned, looking at Soundwave for answers, to not only be ignored, but shoved around by the other kids who ran towards the attraction. “Seriously?! Is no one else even a little bit concerned on how this is possible?”

Tc placed a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “Warp, just enjoy the miracle. When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Warp could only grumble. Tc was right, they wouldn't, not for a long time. That didn't mean he had to accept it though.

Shockwave watched as they all walked over and picked their favourite horse, Tc and Skids fighting over the same blue one before Trailbreaker broke their fight up and offered his to Tc, walking up to help Damus up and sit with him instead. Shockwave observed the way Soundwave continued to pick at the control panel and looked up at the other children, waiting for their confirmation that they were ready before clicking something and closing the panel. As soon as he did that, the carousel began to slowly move, the horses bobbing up and down in gentle motions, causing the kids to excitedly cheer.

Soundwave stepped on the moving platform while it was still picking up speed and sat on a random horse near Windcharger. Although not as vocal as the others, he was clearly enjoying it.

Shockwave couldn't quite get what was so entertaining about the thing. It was slow, even after it picked up some speed, and the music was painful to the ears. But that didn't quite matter, did it? They were happy, and they were having fun.

It clearly was something they knew about before the tsunami, before their civilization fell apart. A simple joy of life that they missed.

And, in a world dimmed by tragedy and destruction, where at every corner something threatens their very existence, isn't that all they could ask for?

So, in a small moment of peace, Shockwave let himself relax. He bent forward and rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched as his children sang along with the screechy music, bouncing on their fake horses and pretending they were in some high chase in their little imaginary world.

In this dreary reality, even the artificial light of a broken past could make it all worth it. 

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | fourteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, mostly focused on namjoon again in his stressed with no rest era, oc tells her friends about everything, jiung x oc fighting, crying :(, oc has a pretty good talk with namjoon, things are just shifting/changing

—a/n: the next fic coming up after wildfire has been posted here! also if you haven't taken my poll, pls do so! hehe <33 i appreciate u

You lay back against the arm of the couch with your blanket sprawled on top, typing away the last bits of info into your presentation. You're a slide away from creating your acknowledgements slide and wrapping up the entire rotation update. You had gotten an email from both San and Namjoon stating that your rotation in San's lab was ending due to a change in your timeline and that you needed to present your rotation update to the both of them, along with the dean, in the following week. It scared you at first— and it still does now— but it's starting to make more sense as to why San did what he did. Namjoon sent you a side email asking if you could meet today because he wanted to discuss what was going on. He kept it vague. Short.

Maybe he was holding off until the meeting.

It's obvious who started all of this. It's not hard to tell.

But, you agreed to meet after TAing for Yunho— letting Namjoon know you'd be there as soon as class was over. He agreed to the time and sent you a reassuring message towards the end, telling you all would be well and that he'd help you figure things out no matter what.

It was reassuring, but it doesn't mean you weren't scared.

Anxious.

Nervous.

Doesn't mean any if this it hurt any less. Doesn't mean you weren't angry, upset, sad. You still needed to feel it out, especially being alone and going through this without anyone else to talk to about it.

You had Eunchae, Jurin and Felix. But, you wished you had Jiung to talk to. You wished you didn't feel hurt about him, too.

—FLASHBACK

"So, you two are seeing each other?" Jurin asks while she sits in front of you and holds onto your knee to give it a gentle rub. Eunchae sits next to you with her arm over your shoulder, also giving you a gentle caress, squeeze. Felix sits next to Jurin and he's got a look of concern, but sadness. You had finally opened up about everything between you and San; from how things started, the conferences, staying at his house, being with him—

To not.

Jiung keeps himself posted near your window because he doesn't really wanna hear more about it but he needs to— to understand the full story. Part of him also feels guilty for what he did hearing your cries and how awfully torn up you are over Professor Choi.

San.

He's gotta get used to you calling him San like that.

"Were." You shake your head and press the tissue against your nose to pat it dry. "It's done with now."

"But, why? Couldn't you guys just play it off?" 

"I'm sure he wanted to be safe, though." Felix adds softly. "I think I kinda see where he's coming from." He looks at you. "I don't think he meant to hurt you, but he's probably trying to protect you and keep everything safe in the meantime. Once this blows over—"

"I doubt we'd get back together."

"Don't say that. You never know, Y/N. I agree with Lix. He's probably just trying to do what's best for now even if it hurts him to. I'm sure he cares a lot about you. I mean heck, he almost fucked up Hae-jin in front of everyone." You sigh and look down at your hands, the feeling of sadness and emptiness all consuming. 

"He does." Eunchae adds to Jurin's reassurance. "I don't know why Professor Lee and Professor Jeong think it's their business, though. Haven't they done enough damage?"

"Awful. People literally can't mind their business, especially when it has nothing to do with them."

"I get the power dynamics but Professor Choi doesn't seem like the type. So, honestly, it's not like anyone was getting hurt in the process." Jiung silently fiddles with his hoodie string as Felix goes on.

"And people clearly don't know you if they assume you're the one throwing yourself on him." Jurin adds.

"Damn. Two people can't just be together?" Felix shakes his head. "Anyway, you got us, and this will pass. I'm sure Professor Kim will do everything to help and figure things out, too." You dig your face into your hands, trying to wipe away the remaining tears before you nod and smile at Lix in appreciation for his support, too. 

Still, you can't help but notice how Jiung has remained quiet this entire time— barely able to maintain eye contact with you.

"Should we go to dinner? Get some food in you?" Eunchae gives you a small smile and giggle. You nod and stand with them, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror while the three start making their way out of your door.

"Can we talk for a second?"

"About?"

"I just have to tell you something. Probably shouldn't wait until after dinner."

"Um, okay?" You look at him, hands crossed over your chest in a vulnerable manner, doe-eyes peeking up at him as he lets out a hefty sigh. "What's on your mind?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I just wanna say I'm sorry and I hope you understand where I'm coming from. But—" He lets out another sigh before shaking his head, almost as if he were shaking his feelings off. Trying to tell himself he needs to say it. "I-I went to Professor Kim and told him about you and Professor Choi. I told him I thought you were being taken advantage of and that I was worried."

"What?" You can barely get out. "W-why would you do that?"

"I was really just worried and I wasn't sure how else to get to you. I-I thought Professor Kim would be able to help—"

"Jiung." You call his name and step back, not wanting to be in close proximity to him. You knew he was worried about you, but you didn't think he'd go off and talk to Namjoon about it right away. "Why would you do that? Why couldn't we just keep talking about it— why did you have to go and blow this up even more?!"

"I'm sorry, can you blame me?!—"

"You didn't have to go behind my fucking back and tell Professor Kim! I already told you it wasn't like that and you still told him it was?! What the actual hell, Jiung?"

"I was just worried about you! I was being your fucking bestfriend, trying to make sure you weren't hurt or anything."

"And then you made things worse. Are you happy?" You scoff. "Those assumptions could have really fucked up Professor Choi."

"What about you, Y/N? Why do you keep disregarding yourself?! Is that even healthy—"

"Healthy?! I'm telling you the truth!" You scoff. "And you don't know shit about me and him, so quit acting like you do." You throw your hands up in defeat because he'll never get it. "Forget it, okay? You'll never understand and I don't need you to."

"Hey, what's going on?" Felix pops his head in, confused at the ruckus going on behind doors. Truthfully, he heard everything just as he was approaching the door to check up on you, and he's not sure how to feel. It's hard. He feels like he's in the middle because he sees Jiung, he sees you.

"You guys can go off to dinner together, but I'll probably just stay behind." 

"But, Y/N—" Jiung adds in defeat.

"Why don't you and the girls go? We'll catch up later." Felix tugs him by the sleeve and gives him a look. "Give her some space." He mutters lowly just as he gets in close distance.

—END

Your alarm blares on the coffee table, a harsh reminder that you haven't really slept much. It was time to wrap up and get ready for Yunho's class— something you weren't entirely ready to tackle today either.

But, you get up anyway. 

You sigh and put on your brave face.

You throw on a simple sweater, jeans and your Sambas— dabbing a bit of mascara, brow gel and lip gloss to fix yourself up a tiny bit for the day. You were tired of feeling sad and dressing the part; the least you could do was finally get some fresh air and look decent enough for the world while coming out of your slump. You grab your things and pack up your bag, heading out of the door with your keys in hand.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San's lab.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San.

You let out a sigh and quietly walk over to the classroom in peace, keeping your head down for a majority of the time. 

Avoiding eye contact, avoiding anything having to do with the outside world in meantime.

"Hey!" Yunho says in his usual fashion. You give him a small smile, although you're not really sure why he's joining class yet again today. He had been joining your class in particular recently, and you knew why.

He just wanted to get under your skin.

"Hi." You respond, getting your laptop together. Yunho continues to watch you from where you're standing, noting the sadness that envelopes your entire body. The way you're avoiding him. The way it's so blatantly obvious that you know that he knows.

That Iseul is the reason why you're sad.

You don't say anything otherwise; keeping your head down and away from Yunho even while the class walks in. You continue to carry on with the last journal club of the class before giving everyone time to work on their final proposals before it's due at the end of the evening. A few people linger at the end of class to speak with you and Yunho to get your guidance on the last remaining bits of their proposals before they thank you for all your help and head out for the day.

You still haven't said a word to Yunho, and he can't help but ask:

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asks nonchalantly after class, looking at your figure even though you are avoiding eye contact with him while packing up your things.

"No."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't know why you're asking if something is wrong when you know what it is already. Don't you?" You look at him plainly from the side before gathering the rest of your things.

"Whatever's been happening between you and San is between you and San—"

"So, was it you who told Professor Kim? Or was it Professor Lee?" You cut him off. Yunho stares at you, and he doesn't respond. Of course he won't, of course he won't throw Iseul under the bus even though you know she was behind it.

"It was for the best."

"Quite frankly, I don't think you can speak on what's best for me or him. Especially him." You look at Yunho directly in the eye. "Are you both that determined to bring San down? Is that what this?" He furrows his brows.

"Reel it in, Y/N." He says, sternly. "Do you not understand how damaging this could be for both you and him? If anything, it was done to protect you both."

"What makes you think we weren't capable of doing so?" Yunho lets out a pathetic chuckle before he steps forward and leans towards your ear, a small smirk on his lips.

"I think snuggling up on campus and sneaking into his office is enough of a reason." He pulls back, licking his lips before dipping his hands into his pocket.

"And I think you need to learn how to mind your own business and let San handle his own." You scoff. "In any case, Yunho." You look him in the eye. "You and Iseul already ruined him from the beginning and you can't come to terms with it." You tilt your head to the side. "You both were never deserving of San, and that is sad. No wonder you two are miserable and are still keeping tabs on him." Yunho's mouth slightly drops, but he doesn't respond to your statement. "I'll help out with finals if needed. Otherwise, please consider my TA assignment with you done."

You almost run into Iseul as you stomp out of the classroom, leaving her to knit her brows at you in response.

"Nice talk." Iseul pops in, her husband biting his cheek.

"We should have never gotten involved with that, Iseul." He says lowly as he gathers his things together.

"Oh, so just let them—"

"That's exactly it, just let them be." He cuts her off and looks at her. "It didn't have to be us. We could've just let them be and let anyone else do the talking. Let them learn on their own." His jaw ticks.

"We did the right thing." She crosses her arms.

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're taking the opportunity to destroy San and running with it. It didn't have to be us." He repeats, slinging his bag onto his shoulder.

"Yunho." She says. "You're not actually taking Y/N seriously, are you? She's delusional if she thinks all of this is okay and would've slipped."

"Don't call her delusional, Iseul. You have no say in their relationship or what they're about. You had no right. They knew what they were getting into. You just lead them into the trap for your own benefit." Yunho scoffs. "You wanted to see this unfold, didn't you? You wanted this to unfold in a specific way." 

"What is going on, Yunho?"

"We're not meddling in this anymore. If you're not ready to stop, count me out of it. I'm not doing this, I'm not picking at their business anymore." He grabs his things and takes the lead out of the room. Iseul scoffs and shakes her head, slowly trailing behind him.

As for you, you feel cold. You feel isolated. You feel empty. You walk out and find a hidden table behind the building and set yourself down to get yourself together. You let out a couple of breaths to ease your feelings, promising yourself you wouldn't cry over this anymore.

But, it hurts to hold it in.

It hurts.

You feel the dullness, the heavy ache, in the center of your chest, and it hurts.

You have to move on.

"Fuck." You sigh, hand over your chest to give it a few gentle rubs before you're back on your feet and checking the time. You need to see Professor Kim just like your promised.

Of course, as you're on your way to Professor Kim's office, you find San passing by with Yeosang and Jongho. His eyes land on you and you immediately break first, feeling the tears ready to well up in your eyes. He sees the way your head drops and how you turn away— he can't help but slightly turn over his shoulder to keep his eyes on you.

To lock eyes with you once more.

To feel.

But, it doesn't happen. And it fucks San up more than he expects because he doesn't know even know what Jongho and Yeosang are talking about anymore after that brief interception.

"Yo, you good?" Jongho taps his chest with a small chuckle, bringing San back to reality.

"Yeah. Sorry." He tries to play it off quickly but Jongho quickly turns over his shoulder to see you walking in the opposite direction.

"All good." He returns to San and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." San gives him a toothless smile. "Anyway, did you guys figure out where we're going before we make laps around campus?" Yeosang and Jongho share a quick look before they follow behind San and pick the conversation back up to prevent any of San's sadness from creeping up.

Meanwhile, you continue your way to Professor Kim's office, wiping away the stragglers that manage to escape your eyes and streak your cheeks. You weren't gonna let this get to you, so you quickly try to brush it off and get yourself together especially when you walk down the hallway and into Professor Kim's office. He's in his chair, typing away on his computer— glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Y/N, come sit and make yourself comfortable." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, sitting down on the chair posted in front of his desk.

"Thanks for meeting with me today, Professor Kim."

"No, thank you." He chuckles and finally shifts his full attention towards you. "How are you today?"

"Uh, could be better but not complaining."

"Yeah? How was class with Professor Jeong?"

"Hm, okay." You hum before shifting in your seat nervously. 

"Just okay?" You nod. "Well, as long as there aren't any complaints or anything you wanna tell me." Namjoon knows you probably aren't having a great time in Yunho's class right now and he doesn't blame you.

"No." You force a smile. "Anyway, I see that I have to do my rotation presentation next week?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Y/N. You do understand why this is all happening, right?" You slowly nod. "I know you and San have been seeing each other, and I know he ended things the other day. I'm really sorry, but I just need to protect you both. Word is getting around fast and the dean isn't having it. I can't have him fire San, I can't have him kick you out of the grad program. Please just understand why things have to be this way. I just need it to settle."

"I do." You respond weakly before looking down at your hands. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Professor Kim. I didn't mean— we didn't mean for this to blow up. I-I know we shouldn't have been so sloppy and reckless, and I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." He shakes his head with a sympathetic look. "No need to be sorry. I promise all is fine, and that's why I'm here to help and protect you both." You look at him with a sad nod, and you aren't sure why that's the tipping point for you but you suddenly start to break down in front of Professor Kim. He feels his heart breaks because he knows there wasn't any power play in this; he knows San as a person, and he's familiar with you as a student and the work you do. There was no way either of you used any power or position for your advantage. He knew this had been a genuine, real relationship— it's just truly unfortunate it had to unfold this way.

If word hadn't gotten around, maybe Namjoon wouldn't care at all. 

But, he has to now, and that's what makes everything hard about his role.

"I promise everything is going to be okay." He says softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Namjoon shakes his heas, watching the way you cry into your hands.

"Y/N, it's okay. You can let it out if you need to." He passes you the tissue box. "Can I ask you something? And be honest. I've already figured out your plan for school so you don't have to hold back." Namjoon says. "Do you care about him?" You nod as you continue to cry, the ache in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. 

You miss San.

"But, it doesn't matter because he ended it. It's over with."

"He only did so because of my guidance, and I'm sorry about that. I told him this too, but it's not something I wanted to do. Trust me. As his friend, it's the first time I've seen him genuinely and truly happy. It's all I wanted after the things he's gone through. But, I just can't risk it right now. San is beginning to reach new heights with his career and getting more real estate to do things he's been wanting to do with Jongho. You're also just getting into the groove of things. I don't want either of your hard work to get snatched away over something like this."

"No, I know Professor Kim. I do understand and I'm grateful. It just sucks. I don't know how else we would've gotten away with it, I guess." You sniff. "Maybe it had to happen."

"Look, I told him this, too. But, I can't police every detail and tell you who you can and can't date. If San is someone you care about, then so be it, but the only thing I ask of you is to keep it off campus. I cannot have you two interacting on campus or else he's out. Not by my choice, but the committee."

"I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I know, and he said the same thing about you. He cares just as much, so don't think that he doesn't." You dab your face with the napkin and nod.

"Jiung confessed and told me he came to you about it." Namjoon nods.

"I think he was just worried as your friend. Rightfully so. But, I think he also shouldn't have jumped to those conclusions right away."

"I told him that."

"If I hadn't known San so well, I probably would've believed Jiung." He sighs. "It's alright, he didn't know and he was worried. Are you two okay?"

"Not really, but I think we just need time. I'm trying to see his side of things, but I also didn't think he'd do that so it caught me off guard."

"I see. Well. Give yourself some time and grace, okay? I'm sorry it had to be this way for now." You give him a tiny, toothless smile. Eyes still shiny and watery from the crying you've just done. 

I'm sorry it had to be this way for now.

It repeats in your head over and over again because why does it feel like this is just how it's gonna be? Despite Namjoon reassuring you, despite San's explanation. Why does it just feel like a fleeting moment? A chapter in your book— a part that was never really supposed to last.

"Thank you." He gives you a smile.

"So, shifting to the program. I was thinking I could pull you into my lab and we can figure out things as time goes on? Explore other options if there's anything else you'd wanna explore." You nod. "You know there's other paths we can look into, or if you're totally fine with where you're at in my lab, then we can just stick with that plan."

"That sounds good. Thank you, Professor Kim."

"Unfortunately, like I mentioned, I can't have you interacting with Professor Choi. I'll have to make sure you don't take any of his classes or end up in any collaboration projects with him." You nod.

"Okay. I understand." 

"You'll have to halt all your work in his lab immediately. You can grab your things when you feel ready to, but I'll have you in my lab starting next week. I know it'll be a bit crazy with your rotation presentation, but I promise to make it a smooth transition." 

"Okay." You purse your lips. "I'm almost finished with my rotation presentation."

"That's great!"

"It'll just be us three?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's not the usual format but I need the dean to see all the good work you do."

"Thank you. I appreciate your support."

"Do you have any questions so far? Any other concerns?" You think for a second before shaking your head.

"No."

"I'll send you some onboarding info and give you the contacts to some key people in my lab to help you get started. We can figure out your project and goals in a little more depth next week. Let's aim for a Monday morning meeting? 9am?"

"Good with me." 

"Thanks, Y/N. And please trust me when I say all is gonna be well."

"Thank you." 

"See you next week? Be sure to keep an eye out for my emails." You nod as you stand and tuck your bag closely to you.

"I will." You give him another smile before heading out of the door. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose and plops back down onto his chair, picking up his direct line to ring the dean's office phone. It rings for a few minutes before the dean is answering on the other end.

"Namjoon."

"Hey. Can we meet today to talk about what's been going on? I can be over in the next 15 minutes."

"I'm free, but I have a hard cut off in 45 minutes."

"That's plenty of time. I'll be there soon."

"See you." Joon hangs up and gathers his things, loosening his tie to get himself together for this meeting. He doesn't necessarily wanna do this, nor does he think he's ready for whatever the dean could unleash on him.

On you, on San.

But, he has a job to do and he'll make damn sure he gets his point across. He'll make damn sure he controls this well, and he'll make sure nothing happens to the both of you.

When he gets into the building and heads straight for the dean's office, he's greeted by the front desk and his executive assistant. The dean's assistant knocks on his door and pops her head in to give him a heads up about Namjoon's visit. It isn't long before she's gesturing for him to come into his office, stepping out and slowly shutting the door behind her once Namjoon's settled in the seat in front of him.

"Namjoon."

"Dean Louie." Namjoon clears his throat. "Can we discuss what's been going on? I've got a chance to review this more in depth."

"Great. So, tell me. What's with the anonymous tip? Is there truth behind San and his student's relationship?"

"No." The dean looks at him with his head cocked to the side. "Not at all."

"Namjoon. This isn't the time to play games."

"Who said I was?" Joon asks. "This is purely a rumor and there is nothing going on between the two of them. To keep things safe, I'll make sure they don't cross paths and interact on campus, and I'll make sure to work closely with her and keep her under my wing." Namjoon says.

"A rumor? That blew up around campus? What about Iseul and Yunho? Iseul told me about the happy hour event with San. All of this seems too good to be true, and if you're covering for them—" Namjoon cuts him off.

"Since when did Iseul and Yunho have their best interest in San? All I know is that they've always been the driving issue, not San." Namjoon looks at the dean confused. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but a rumor is a rumor and I've gotten to the bottom of it. I talked to the both of them and they denied it through and through. The only reason why San got caught up in the whole happy hour business was because a postdoc was crossing the line and being really disrespectful to her. Any one of us would've done it had we caught it right away like San did." Namjoon continues to furrow his brows. "Now, please. I'd appreciate if we can move on." The dean sits back and lets out a hefty sigh.

"Go on."

"As stated in my email, she will do her rotation presentation in front of myself, you and San. After that, she will be removed from his lab and will be placed in mine. We'll have weekly check-ins, and I'll work with her to move her classes around and realign her priorities so that she and San don't cross paths in this program again."

"And what about this real estate in the building? I'm not going to give it over if this is what San plans to do—"

"I'm sorry, but this shouldn't define San and his work." Namjoon pauses. "He's not, alright? I already confirmed it was a rumor and there is nothing going on. No reason for you to pull back on that real estate deal especially when Jongho had nothing to do with this either and San has already explained his side and agreed to comply regardless. She'll be out of his lab." The dean gives Namjoon a stern look.

"You better make damn sure this doesn't happen again, Namjoon. No rumors, no slip ups. And you make sure those three stop causing trouble on campus. Iseul, Yunho and San. I don't care who did what and who is blaming who, I need this to stop. Now. We can't have childish, petty issues running amuck on this campus."

"You have my word."

"If I hear San and Y/N in the same sentence again, I can't promise it will be the same outcome."

"With all due respect, I need you to understand that whatever they do, whatever happens off campus, doesn't concern me and shouldn't concern you either. I cannot police their behavior and make them act a certain way off grounds. They are both grown, mature adults that can make decisions on their own, and you know that's unfair and very unrealistic." The dean doesn't say much. He mutters a few things under his breath before he's returning his attention to Namjoon.

"Not a damn word about them ever again, Namjoon. I mean it." The dean warns him again before settling into his seat and returning his attention to his desktop computer. Namjoon does a quick, silent bow before walking out, sighing loudly to himself as he's finally gotten that over with.

Still doesn't make it any easier knowing he had his friend make a very difficult decision that he did not wanna do.

He hopes in time, this could blow over and San could be happy again. Despite this hurdle, he's betting on it. On you and him.

Maybe when you come back together, circumstances will be different enough that it won't make the relationship seem as bad as it does right now.

"Shit." Namjoon clicks his teeth when he finally gets out of the building and breathes in the fresh air. He is exhausted, but his day isn't about to be over, no. On his way back to his office, he finds Yunho speaking to a few colleagues in the courtyard. He must have gotten out of a meeting and was walking his visitors out.

And Namjoon doesn't give a fuck. That visit is ending now.

"Professor Kim! It's an honor to see you in the flesh!" Namjoon smiles at his guests before returning the favor.

"Hi there." Namjoon does a curt bow. "Hope you've enjoyed your visit."

"Completely. We had a great collaboration meeting with Professor Jeong here, and he gave us a tour around."

"That's great, yeah." Namjoon smiles before looking at Yunho. "Can we talk in my office?" Namjoon says near Yunho's ear. "Now?"

"Sure." Yunho bids his last farewell before excusing himself and following Namjoon straight to his office. No words being spoken or shared. Namjoon shuts the door and sighs, looking at Yunho with his hand on his hip. "What's going on, Joon?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you and Iseul are trying so hard to ruin that man's reputation. The dean told me Iseul went over there to give him more of her little intel on San."

"I don't know what she said or did—"

"You still knew about it, didn't you?" Namjoon looks at him. "You knew this whole time Iseul was trying to raise hell about this and you let her."

"How is this not wrong?"

"No one said it wasn't wrong, Yunho!" Namjoon raises his tone. "There were just better ways to go about it than throwing San's name out there the way you two did. Just throwing him out there to the wolves without even knowing the full story. That's the problem!"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't seem like it now, but we were looking out for him and everyone else potentially involved."

"Except me. If you knew better, you both would've let me handle this accordingly. This doesn't just affect him, Yunho. It affects you both. It affects me. It affects Y/N, Jongho, everyone. Because you both didn't know how to be discreet about your plans to bring San down."

"It was never like that!"

"Then, what was it like? Tell me. As his colleague, as someone who acted purely for their own benefit, what was it like? As San's ex-bestfriend, what was it like?" Yunho doesn't respond. "This isn't high school, Yunho. I'm sorry, but the both of you need to grow up."

"We just tried to do the right thing and I don't take any of it back. If you fail to see that, then that's on you—"

"Oh, so approaching the dean to give him more talk in his ear with your so-called evidence before coming to me is doing the right thing?" Namjoon looks at him. "What was the goal here? What did this plan look like to you and Iseul?” He shakes his head. “No, actually, I don't wanna hear it, she already came into my office to talk my ear off about this. That should've been enough to let me handle it." Namjoon furrows his brows at him. 

"We just thought we were helping everyone—"

"Helping? Yourself or Iseul?" Namjoon shakes his head. "You know what, this is done. The damage is done. So, thank you and Iseul for your generous help." Yunho sighs. "Now that you've done all the talking, it's my turn." Joon steps closer to him. "As long as I'm around, I'll continue to keep the peace in this department, and that means I don't want you and Iseul meddling in San's personal matters ever again." Namjoon's jaw ticks as he and Yunho stare at each other in the brief pause that falls between them. "I don't want you meddling in Y/N's personal matters, I don't want you two doing anything on this campus besides running your labs and minding your own goddamn business. Do you understand me?" Namjoon places his hands on his hips while he and Yunho maintain eye contact. Yunho swallows thickly before nodding, digging his hands in his pockets.

"Yes sir."

"The next time you and Iseul wanna act like I don't know how to do my job, I promise I'll be good with reminding you."

—read 14.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[heartsriki]

LOVE SOUNDTRACK⌇음악

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇NI-KI | Prev

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader | word count: 2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ friends to lovers, lots of beating around the bush, no other warnings I think.

synopsis — Riki creates a playlist for you, each song reflecting your shared moments. As you listen, you uncover his hidden feelings and the confession tucked within the final track, leading to a sweet, music-filled moment where your love story plays out in perfect harmony.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊the ot7 series is done :( BUT NOW I CAN WORK ON LONGER AND DETAILED PROJECTS HURRAYYYY, hopefully yall like those when they come out!

The playlist shows up on your phone one evening without warning.

You’re sprawled across your bed, textbooks pushed to the side, a half-empty coffee cup perched precariously on your nightstand. The dorm is quiet except for the distant murmur of voices in the hallway. You’re mid-scroll through your music library when you notice it—For Y/N.

Your thumb hovers over the screen.

Weird. You don’t remember making this.

Curious, you tap on it, and the first song begins to play.

A soft melody hums through your earbuds, and immediately, something tugs at your memory. You know this song. It’s the one that you played in your dorm last winter, the night you and Riki sat by the window watching the first snowfall of the year.

You close your eyes, and the memory comes back in vivid detail.

“You think it’ll stick?” you had asked, blowing on your hot chocolate. The glass pane beside you was fogged up from the warmth inside, but beyond it, the snowflakes swirled under the streetlights.

“Doubt it,” Riki had said, drawing random doodles on the glass window like a kid. He had been watching the snow too, his expression calm. Then, he smirked. “But hey, if it does, I’ll let you abuse me with snowballs as a reward.”

You had laughed, rolling your eyes. “Like I need your permission for that.”

Now, lying in bed, you wondered about the playlist and its meaning.

Wait how did it even get on your phone?

The next day drags by in a haze of half-heard lectures and restless thoughts.

You barely remember getting dressed, barely remember grabbing your bag, and now you’re here—seated across from Riki at your usual table in the campus café, fingers curled around a cup of coffee that’s gone lukewarm.

And he says nothing.

Not a single word about the playlist.

You watch him, searching for any sign that he’s waiting for you to bring it up. But Riki is as casual as ever, scrolling through his phone between bites of his croissant, occasionally glancing up to make some offhand comment about a ridiculous campus rumor or the professor who showed up to class with the worst fashion sense ever.

Meanwhile, your thoughts are a tangled mess.

The playlist. The songs. What do they mean?

Your heart slams against your ribs just thinking about it.

Does he know you listened? Does he want you to say something?

You grip your coffee cup a little tighter, clearing your throat. “So… did you do anything interesting last night?”

It’s a test. A chance for him to bring it up naturally.

Riki hums, still staring at his phone. “Not really. Just played some games with Jake, went to bed late. You?”

You blink. Your fingers tighten around the cup.

Seriously?

He’s going to act like nothing happened?

Your eyes narrow, and you wait—wait for the moment he cracks, for the smirk, for the teasing remark, for anything that shows he knows exactly what he did.

But nothing comes.

“Just slept,” you mutter, forcing yourself to take a sip of coffee, even though it tastes bitter now.

The silence stretches between you.

It’s unbearable.

Your mind races through possibilities. Maybe he sent it by accident. Maybe it wasn’t meant for you at all. Maybe—

Riki stretches lazily in his seat, his hoodie slipping off his shoulder. “Oh, by the way,” he says, and for a second, your breath catches. Finally.

But then—

“Wanna grab ramen after class?”

You stare at him, your stomach flipping.

That’s it? That’s all?

Your grip tightens on your cup as you force a nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

Riki grins, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

And as he goes back to his phone, casually sipping his drink, you realize—

If he won’t bring it up, you might just have to.

but of course Riki doesn’t bring up the playlist over ramen either.

You sit across from him in the crowded little shop just off campus, the air thick with the scent of broth and spices. The steam from your bowl curls between you, but it does nothing to chase away the tension sitting heavy in your chest.

You’ve been waiting—waiting—for him to say something, to acknowledge what he sent you. But instead, he slurps his noodles like it’s just another night, like he didn’t put together an entire playlist filled with memories.

And it’s driving you insane.

“You’re quiet today,” Riki remarks, his chopsticks hovering over his bowl as he watches you. His tone is light, but there’s something in his gaze—curious, a little teasing. Like he knows something is up.

You set your spoon down a little too forcefully. “Am I?”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk. “Yeah. So weird too. You usually don’t shut up.”

Your jaw tightens. Unbelievable.

If anyone else had made that comment, you’d have thrown a napkin at their face. But right now, you can barely focus on coming up with a comeback.

Your stomach flips just remembering it.

The worst part? Riki looks normal. Like none of this is affecting him at all.

Fine. If he wants to play it cool, two can play that game.

You lean back in your seat, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

Riki quirks a brow, tilting his head slightly. “That’s new.”

Your fingers tighten around your chopsticks. Say something. Bring it up. Ask him.

But just as you open your mouth, he reaches over, stealing a piece of your fish cake right off your plate.

You slap his hand, scowling. “Excuse me?”

He just grins, chewing obnoxiously. “What? You looked distracted. Figured you wouldn’t notice.”

You do throw a napkin at him this time.

And just like that, the moment passes. The conversation shifts to something else—an upcoming test, some campus drama, a new game he’s been obsessed with.

But underneath it all, the tension lingers.

Because you know the truth.

Riki put together that playlist for you.

And no matter how hard he tries to pretend it’s nothing, you know.

The only question is—when are you going to make him admit it?

That night, you give in.

You’re lying in bed again, phone resting on your chest, screen glowing softly in the dark. Your thumb hovers over For Y/N, heart hammering like it’s some kind of forbidden secret.

Riki still hasn’t said a word about it.

But you can’t let it go.

With a quiet breath, you press play.

The next song starts slow, familiar guitar chords filling your ears. The moment it plays, you recognize it—it’s from that weekend trip to the beach last summer.

Your lips part slightly as the memory washes over you.

The sun had just started to set, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. You and Riki had been sitting in the sand, sneakers discarded, the distant sound of waves blending into the music playing from his speaker.

“If I had to pick a favorite sunset, this would be it.” You had stretched your arms behind you, leaning back, letting the breeze tangle in your hair.

“You say that every time.” Riki had scoffed, but his voice was softer than usual.

“Because it always feels true in the moment.”

He hadn’t responded right away. You remember that part clearly. He had just looked at you for a second, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, instead of saying anything, he had reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before quickly looking away, pretending like he hadn’t just done it.

You had pretended, too.

Now, lying in the dark, you exhale shakily.

You’re not imagining this. You can’t be.

These songs—they’re not just random picks. They’re moments, his moments, things that must have meant something to him.

And the more you listen, the clearer it becomes.

You need to talk to him.

The next day, it happens by surprise.

Because of you.

You’re sitting outside the café on campus, staring at your untouched drink, mind replaying the song over and over, when Riki slides into the seat across from you with a lazy grin.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teases, stealing one of your fries without asking.

You don’t respond. Just stare at him, long enough that the grin fades slightly from his lips.

“What?” he asks, chewing.

“Why won’t you admit that you made it?.”

His chewing slows. “Made what?”

You inhale sharply. “The playlist.”

Silence.

Riki freezes for half a second—so quick you almost miss it—before he forces a shrug, looking off to the side. “Yeah, so what? I made it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the casual admittance. “So what? You weren’t ever going to bring it up?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know I had to.” Then, before you can say anything else, he pushes his phone across the table toward you, screen lighting up with his music app. “Just—listen to the last song.”

Your stomach twists. “Riki—”

“Just listen.”

And the way he says it—quiet, firm, almost nervous—makes you reach for his phone without another word.

You hesitate for only a second before pressing play.

The song starts slow, just like the last one—soft piano notes trickling in, delicate and familiar. It takes only a few seconds before you recognize it.

Your breath catches.

This song—it’s from that night.

The night it rained.

You remember it so clearly now, like the memory has just been waiting to resurface.

You and Riki had been caught in the sudden downpour, running through the empty streets, your shoes slapping against the wet pavement. You had been laughing, breathless, soaked to the bone, and Riki had grabbed your wrist, pulling you under the awning of a closed bookstore.

“We suck at checking the weather.” You had panted, pushing your dripping hair out of your face.

“No, you suck at checking the weather,” Riki had corrected, shaking out his arms like a wet dog.

You had rolled your eyes, shivering slightly. Without a word, Riki had tugged off his soaked hat, shaking off the rain before draping it over your head.

“Riki—”

“Just wear it,” he had muttered, avoiding your eyes. “Protects you from the rain a bit.”

The moment had stretched between you, heavy despite the laughter that had just filled the air. You remember how his fingers had brushed against yours when he adjusted the hat, how close he had been, how the rain had clung to his lashes when he finally looked at you.

And now—this song.

It had been playing from the small speaker outside the bookstore, blending into the sound of raindrops and your pounding heart.

Back in the present, sitting across from Riki in the café, you slowly set his phone down.

He’s not looking at you, gaze fixed on the table, fingers tapping against his cup.

Your chest feels impossibly tight.

“This song,” you whisper. “I remember it.”

Riki lets out a quiet breath, barely a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? thought you wouldn’t with your short term memory.”

Your heart stutters. “Why—” You swallow. “Why put this one last?”

Finally, he looks at you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite place—something cautious, something vulnerable.

“Because that’s when I knew.”

Your stomach flips. “Knew what?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s frustrated with himself. Then, he meets your gaze, eyes steady.

“That I liked you.”

The words hang between you, weighty and real.

“Me too” you responded.

Series Taglist — prev

@saphiranishimurashan @elairah @baribaaari @m1kkso @letwiiparkjay @jellyluv4eva @manuosorioh @moontyun @mbsnow @taesanoreohair @tiny-shiny @glimmerinaaa @e-r-i-15 @starbyeol1512 @seyoungiesleeps @vrusha01 @enhaprettystars @luv-rizzimura

[ominous-faechild]

Hilariously, this all feels a LOT like Rising From The Ashes lmao

Caron (the headmaster of Lotus) and Guqayya (his most advanced healer as well as Sammy's direct mentor) are DEEP in a criminal conspiracy that they're actively hiding not only from the MCs, but a majority of the academy.

A huge part of the first book is literally Caron going "listen, I can't tell you why I think {xyz}, but keep an eye out for it. Here's what you do in the seemingly HIGHLY UNLIKELY scenario xyz happens."

The MCs—legit all of them at different points in the story lmao—legit just be like "okay, weird but sure, bro."

Guess what happens.

Almost every. single. time.

Kieva: "okay, Dad, what in Existence is Strauss's deal?"

Sammy: "okay, listen. I appreciate your help. I really do. But how the FUCK did you know they were going to try to kidnap me!?"

Carmin: "... please... please just... explain what's GOING ON!?"

And guess where it goes?

Kieva:

Sammy: [stretches out his arms to crack his knuckles, giving an obnoxious, over-dramatic wink. Jokingly) "well! Guess it's about time we all officially get added to 'Kihroin's Most Wanted' list, yeah?" 😉

Carmin: [heavy sigh] "You know, if you told me only a year ago that you were going to convince me that treason against the crown was actually the right thing to do, I would've laughed in your face." Carmin: [pauses] Carmin: [unable help a small, bitter grin; darkly) "I still kinda want to. So maybe it's time to go before I chicken out of this, yeah?" ;'D

Legit something that'll probably happen at some point or another:

Guqayya: "so, my protégé. How do you feel about treason?" >;D Sammy: [gives an overdramatic, heavy sigh, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side as he looks up at her disapprovingly] Sammy: (disappointedly) "Grandma, I think you've finally lost it." Guqayya: [quirks an eyebrow at him, looking at him doubtfully. Knows he's going somewhere with this] Sammy: [disapproving look quickly disappears for a wide, cocky grin] Sammy: (amusedly) "you know treason is my favorite pastime!" >;D Guqayya: [scoffs, rolling her eyes—and fighting a laugh—before smacking him upside the head] Sammy: [snickers to himself, lazily ducking and swatting her hand away] "awe, c'mon! You really think I needed influence to commit crimes?" >;DDDD Sammy: [did.]

romance is lame and overrated i love mentor/mentee relationships in fiction and especially when theyre sort of fucked up

[writeriguess]

Hiiiii, i just came across with you cheater bakugo fic its a *chef kiss* butttt can we have a extended version of it i wanna see her happyyy i want bakugo to regret his life because of it

A House Built on Ashes Part 1

author's note: This is just a brief continuation, as I wasn’t certain where to take the story from here. There won’t be any further parts after this.

@alastor-fann and @starlightanyaaa asked to be tagged on this <3

A House Built on Ashes Part 2 (Final part)

Five years later, the city streets are bustling with life, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as Katsuki Bakugo walks through them, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket. The cold nips at his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache inside his chest. He isn’t here for anything in particular—patrol ended an hour ago, but he hasn’t found it in himself to go home yet.

And then, he sees you.

It’s like a sucker punch to the gut.

You’re standing just outside a quaint little café, laughing at something your husband—your husband—just said. His name is Renji Sakamoto, and Katsuki knows everything about him, even though he wishes he didn’t. He knows he’s a doctor, that he’s kind, that he’s the type of guy to leave little notes in your lunchbox just to make you smile. He knows that he proposed to you in the middle of a sunflower field because you’d once mentioned how romantic it would be. And he knows, most of all, that Renji loves you in a way Katsuki never could.

It should be enough to turn away, to move on, but he’s frozen, unable to look away from you.

You look happy. Radiant, even. There’s no trace of the hurt he put you through, no sign of the broken heart he left behind. The way you lean into Renji, the way he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear—it’s intimate, effortless.

It’s love.

Katsuki clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. He wonders if you ever look at Renji the way you used to look at him. If you still hum when you cook, if you still make extra food just in case he comes home late. He wonders if you ever think about him at all.

Probably not.

A bitter taste fills his mouth as he watches Renji wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you into the café. The door chimes softly as it closes behind you, shutting him out completely.

He should go. He knows he should. But instead, he lingers, standing outside like a ghost haunting the life he ruined. He lets himself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like if things had been different. If he had chosen you instead of his mistakes. If he had been strong enough to be the man you needed.

But regrets don’t change the past. They don’t erase the nights you spent waiting up for him. They don’t take back the moment you looked him in the eye and asked, voice shaking, "Do you love her?" They don’t fix the silence that followed—the silence that sealed his fate.

Katsuki exhales sharply, finally forcing himself to move. The pain doesn’t lessen, but he buries it, as he always does. This is what he deserves, after all.

Because five years later, you’re happy.

And he’s still just a man drowning in his regrets.

[akanemnon]

Good day, Akane. There's been a question that has been stuck in my head for quite some times. It comes and goes in my memory, but this time I finally grabbed hold of it.

Though the final QnA has been closed forever, still, because you still left your inbox open in which in thankful for, and us fans are seeming to near a turning point in your epic Undertale/Deltarune crossover comic known as TwinRunes, I fell as I have reached an aproprite time to ask this:

Say in an alternate universe where TwinRunes never happened. The first page was received how it was supposed to be: one and done, so you went to go work on and make Lost in the Inbetween instead. Where do you think you'd be now?

Well... first and foremost; The Other Script/Lost in the In-Between wouldn't exist in the form it does now.

I started working on Twin Runes when I was mayyyybe writing the Waterfall part of TOS (abbreviating it to save time). The characters would be different, and the story would be as well. Frisk, for example, wouldn't be such a snarky little shit like they are now. They would've behaved much closer like they do in Twin Runes. In fact that is something I HAVE changed througout writing the script. They were behaving way too nice for someone who unlike the Frisk in Twin Runes, remembers everything they have done.

One story wouldn't exist without the other. Not only that, but without Twin Runes, I wouldn't have met people who have given me pointers and constructive criticism to make them both the best they can be.

If I know myself well enough (and I do), then I'd say without Twin Runes, TOS would've been another abandoned project. In a hypothetical setting it would've either never made it past the scripting phase OR it would've been abandoned somewhere at the beginning of the story. Twin Runes IS a way for me to test the waters after all, and figure out how making a comic works. Also as an exercise to keep at it.

[newttxt]

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

[midnightshindig]

That Cecil’s kid one was amazing! Could we get a version where Cecil was unfortunately too busy with work to be there for his kid? Maybe they grow up to resent him a little and eventually secretly end up working with the Mauler Twins, Angstrom, etc (maybe even Viltrumites if you’re willing), for their own personal gain, or what ever reasons you see fit? Take your time! Sorry in advance for this request being kinda long :)

Cecil & Villain!Child!Reader

Oh my god i've been wanting to do this request for so long!! Thank you for submitting it!

hcs under the cut

Your mother died young, being a superhero did that.

You never hated her for it, for protecting others and for doing her best

but you couldn't help but resent her a little for who your father was

or rather, who he wasn't

Father was a generous term for what Cecil was. He was a lot of things

Head of the GDA, most powerful non-powered civilian on Earth, a badass ex spy and a great diplomat and genius

but he was NOT a father

you both knew it.

You barely knew the guy, being raised by a nanny specifically for superpowered children like yourself

You saw him occasionally at dinner, but that was maybe once a month.

He, for safety reasons, didn't want the world to know the two of you were related

so naturally, when you had a big baseball game, or your schools talent show cropped up, or even when you landed a main role in your senior play, he "couldn't" attend

Oh sure, it was taped and streamed to him, but you knew he never watched.

So was it really any surprise when you weren't jazzed about becoming a superhero?

When, throughout your final year of high school and the two years after, you befriend the Mauler Twins?

Even supervillains are allowed pen pals in prison, and they made such compelling ones for you to correspond with

It was a fun guessing game as to which twin had written what, and over the course of three years, the three of you had become something akin to friends

They gave you advice on what your major should be, how to handle the stress of college, and shared anecdotes from their own lives

It was hard to imagine them as normal people once, but they made a convincing story

You knew it was likely supervillain manipulation, but they seemed interested in your life, I mean, its not like they had tv

So you would detail your day-to-day life, sharing your frustrations with Cecil and the GDA as a whole

"What an asshole." the three of your would agree

Maybe you three could work together? It was an idea brought up frequently.

So honestly, you weren't really all that surprised when they showed up at your house after getting broke out of prison

Your powers were marginally useful, the ability to phase through walls and be invisible.

It was USEFUL, but not terribly flashy.

Either way, it made stealing things with them incredibly easy.

Cecil didn't notice when you stopped coming home

god knows he was never there

he did notice, however, when the Declaration of Independence went missing

and when GDA specialty supplies went missing

and when the schematics for all sorts of government wherewithal went missing.

"Donald- what the FUCK is going on?!" Cecil demanded, watching the surveillance streams

"Uh- Sir, you need to see this-" The feed was cut and changed to the news

The Mauler twins, business as usual. Whatever.

But-

"OH my god- Y/n?" Cecil put a hand to his head, pacing back and forth

He thought you'd moved out- maybe with roommates or a partner or something- but this?

Oh fuck....

Cecil teleported to the scene, the Mauler Twins and you attempting to break into the White House once more.

"Y/n! Get over here!" Cecil called out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice

you ignored him.

The Guardians of the Globe arrived

and realistically there wasn't a way they could tell them "oh leave that one alone its my offspring."

And so, as all good things go, your villainous spree ended with you in GDA's supervillain prison.

"Why? I want to know why." Cecil sat across from you with his hands folded

"God- what do you care?" you spat back, your hands cuffed and an anti-power collar around your neck

"Because, Y/n, you're my child and I care about you. At the very least I don't want you in prison."

"You didn't even know I had powers."

"Of course I did!"

"You knew I could phase through walls, but being invisible? I've read the files, Mom couldn't do that. And you had no idea I could."

Cecil sat in silence for a minute. Processing.

"Is that what this is, Y/n? Rebellion?"

You shook your head, rolling your eyes "Of course, everything I do is to appease or piss off a guy I don't even know."

"I'm your father, Y/n."

"Fuck off." your glare was cutting, and the tone in your voice oozed venom with every syllable.

"The Mauler Twins helped me enroll in community classes, they gave me advice about being an adult and how the world works. They listened and were happy for me when I graduated. They sent me a shitty graduation card with the supplies you give them in prison. To be clear- these guys were in prison and they showed up more than you did."

Cecil literally couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Y/n, you're only eighteen, you need to rethink thi-"

"I'm twenty."

Cecil blinked, standing up and going to the door, speaking with Donald through the door before returning

"Twenty.... wow...."

You leveled another glare at him "Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun." your tone was sarcastic, and your disdain apparent.

"Look. I'm sorry for being a bad father, but you're a criminal."

"So? Lock me up, throw away the key. Just fuck out of my life, you were doing so good until now."

Cecil let out a long, drawn out sigh. Feeling twenty years of disappointment in a single moment "Y/n, I know I never took the time to know you, but know this. I don't waste potential."

...

"Go fuck yourself, Cecil."

Bonus!:

The Mauler Twins are being interrogated for their involvement with you

they don't usually take accomplices, so the GDA wanted to know why

instead all they got were violent outburst about your location

"Where is Y/n?! They are INNOCENT damnit! My Clone will agree-!"

"I'm not the clone. But as the ORIGINAL, I demand to know where Y/n is and that they are safe!"

The twins are assured of your safety, but do not calm down until surveillance footage of you and Cecil's interrogation is shown to them

This puts them at ease, as they continue to testify to your innocence.

The GDA has never seen them so concerned about anyone other than themselves

"We will gladly serve our time- god knows we will always find a way out- but Y/n is innocent, release them this instant!"

[234moon]

I’ll admit a thing. Prior to Haikavetham I thought that Hoyoverse wasn’t interested in developing MLM ships too much. I was okay with that too because yuri gets less attention anyway and HYV was obsessively focused on it. But there was always that fear in me that their obsession with WLW ships was likely somewhat inspired by fetishisation.

But then Haikavetham came along and shattered that assumption for me. I thought no other MLM HYV ship could possibly come close to it but Phaidei is actually insane. You can see that this company, with their limitations even because of censorship, is trying pretty hard to make a good MLM ship that fans can decipher easily.

3.1 spoilers up ahead. And this post is absolutely an excuse to collate “evidence” for how gay Phaidei is

1. Phainon and Mydei being parallels to Kephale and Nikador (respectively), and also possibly being inheritors to their coreflame (Phainon left but it’s almost confirmed). Where Nikador allegedly fell in love with Kephale, who is their rival and fought them. A very direct parallel to Phaidei

2. But it’s less about their parallels and more about what they do at present in the story. The most conspicuous incident of this is the last part of 3.1’s quest, where they’re parting. Firstly, Phainon is the last person Mydei met. He was the last farewell Mydei wanted to give before he left. Secondly, when they do talk, Phainon asks this

To which Mydei first replies that the Kremnoan philosophy can never be encapsulated in a dictionary. And then he says this

Don’t tell me this doesn’t read like Phainon worried that the word for romance really doesn’t exist in the Kremnoan language but hoping that it does. Because language makes culture. And as a Kremnoan, that should mean, at least in theory, that Mydei is not fully capable of romance. But this reads like Phainon knowing they have feelings for each other, and teasing Mydei about it. Like “hey I know you say romance doesn’t exist in the Kremnoan language but you definitely like me so you’re probably lying”. Because why would this be one of his parting sentences? It’s too irrelevant at the moment.

Add to this what Mydei says in the end. Don’t tell me this doesn’t read like the most classic doomed gay ship trope! Because it is!! It is!!!!

(Also I don’t know how many people noticed this but when Mydei says the last sentence, his tone is uncharacteristically soft)

3. This GIF.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Phainon knows Mydei has his back (and vice versa because… lol). Phainon feels absolute relief knowing Mydei is with him, and they will fight together. Phainon trusts him, and Mydei trusts Phainon even more.

There is also this scene.

Since my post is getting long I’ll recommend reading a small breakdown of it here (much better explained than I could). They have each other’s backs, and they trust each other with everything. Also the way Mydei says “found you”. I cried.

4. Including their lives!

What an insane scene man. Reveal your proverbial Achilles heel to one man and one man only, who coincidentally happens to be the man who you trust watching your back.

5. They help each other get better. Not much explanation needed but Phainon and Mydei understand each other deeply, and they understand the other’s desires and even masked feelings. Phainon helped Mydei make that final decision that he needed to change the lives of Kremnoans and be a better king (by recommending he go to Chartonus, to whom Phainon had relayed details about Gorgo’s signet ring)

And Mydei helps Phainon with this

There is, of course, a lot more “evidence”. The smallest of expressions (like damn Mydei smiles a lot around Phainon lol) to it being heavily implied their comfort zone is each other. My point, though, is that I’m very impressed by a Chinese company willingly making so much implied gay content despite censorship restricting them. Phaidei has become another one of those iconic HYV ships for me at least.

Btw, if you see this post, please don’t add “but they could be friends-“ I’m aware and it’s a redundant argument. There is a very thin line separating platonic and romantic love. Yes this could be an example of a beautifully higher level of platonic love. But I choose to read this as romantic because I trust in a game company known for making heavily implied gay couples to have made another one.

And please do not treat this as discourse despite how I started it!! This is about Phaidei and I wanted to give a background about why I think they’re pretty gay

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Miraculous fandom has some of the most creative people I know in it. I mean this, positive sense.

However that same talent becomes a problem when people cannot distinguish between a narrative beat and their own post-hoc justification.

The second is useful now and again when any sort of media misses a beat or takes a leap. ML fans carry the narrative on their backs.

It's telling that you have so many fanworks out there that are equally or more valid readings of the canon when they were published that have been completely obliterated by future development.

I'm not talking the wild takes. I'm not talking ML suddenly turning shonen, or coffee shop AU. I'm not even talking 'Adrien gets equal screen time.' Just 'with what we know, what comes next?' type fanfiction.

It's like canon is deliberately trying to dodge anything remotely predictable... but narrative beats are predictable for a reason. They work. They're good storytelling. A twist can be good storytelling, but only if it is better in every way then the not-twist.

You combine the shock-at-all-costs mentality with ML fandoms devotion and creativity and you get leaps of logic that would make a crypto seller blush. It ends up going downright unhealthy places at times.

I know their hearts are in the right place. I know they just care about the show they've sunk time and self into, but there are times you have to step back.

It doesn't mean you have to give up or turn away from the media. You just need to be willing to admit 'This episode/throughline/season/beat sucked'.

Then you hope it gets better.

Not doing this now and then is engaging in cult behavior.

(Post that spawned this ask)

I fully agree. People liking "bad" media doesn't bother me. What gets under my skin is people defending bad media. I'm in a book club and we all own that we like books that are objectively bad. We don't defend them as good, we just like the good parts enough to drown out the bad stuff. That's normal and fine. You don't have to limit yourself to perfect and pure art if such a thing even exists. I can name flaws in most of the things I like, I just think the good far outweighs the bad.

Miraculous is not some deep and complicated show that requires you to watch every episode. The writers have flat out said it is supposed to make sense even if you miss seemingly vital episodes. This means that trying to go the deep and nuanced route to explain the flaws doesn't work. This is a show for young children. It is supposed to be easy to follow. If it's not, then it has failed at its job! Little kids have no expectations to subvert. Shows like Miraculous are supposed to teach them how stories work so they can go on and watch more complex stuff when they're older. (For us adults, shows like Miraculous are supposed to be cute escapism that lets us feel like kids again.) If no one can possibly predict where a story is going next at a high level, then it's probably a bad story.

To be clear, I don't mean that every plot beat should be obvious. It's just that the longer a story goes, the more obvious things should feel as all the little elements of the story build and come together. This allows the audience to get excited about what's going to happen next and keeps them engaged. Stories where literally anything can happen no matter how little sense it makes aren't fun because you can't get invested in anything. I'll take a predictable ending over an impossible one any day.

A perfect example is the season three final. That final was all about Gabriel winning because he knew Chloe's identity. This is spelled out in the episode and the episode setup.

Miraculer set up:

Gabriel: Chloé Bourgeois must become Queen Bee again! Nathalie: Are you still considering making her an ally? I'm afraid Ladybug has grown reluctant to giving Chloé the Bee Miraculous. She's being very careful. Gabriel: Then I will get Chloé to force Ladybug to give it to her. All I need is for her to lose all hope in Ladybug. To become angry enough so I can akumatize her. (smirks evilly)

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again. Queen Bee: What? But I did everything you asked me to. Ladybug: I know. But this is for your own safety. It's too dangerous for you and your loved ones because Hawk Moth knows that you're Queen Bee.

Final pay off:

Hawk Moth: Try it and see for yourself. You're Ladybug's greatest fan. You've helped her, you've trusted her. And what has she done for you in return? Chloé: (gets angry) Nothing! She couldn't care less about me! I'm done with her. She's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant! (reaches out to grap the Miraculous, stops) I want you to de-akumatize has my parents first! Hawk Moth: Whatever you say, my queen. (Chloé takes the comb and puts it in her hair, releasing Pollen)

Since the final also includes every other temp hero being outed this should mean that season four will go on to have Ladybug and Chat Noir starting from scratch, but is that what happens?

Nope! The mass identity reveal means nothing and everything is fine to keep going as is. Chloé's identity reveal being a problem was a one-off fluke we don't need to think about.

There is no justification for that. You can decide that you're willing to let the flaw slide and keep watching, but there is no way to make this a good choice for the story. It was the start of the secret identities holding less and less weight to the point where a lot of people no longer care about the love square reveal because it's been so incredibly cheapened. Marinette keeping her identity from Chat Noir no longer makes sense when it was once pretty reasonable.

[terrestrialnoob]

"John." Bruce said with so much accusation he could see the man suppress a flinch. The toddler in front of them started to crawl to the edge of the table. Bruce reached his hand out and stopped the child. It stared at his hand in fascination before reaching out and touching it curiously.

"Bats..." John wanted to deflect, but Bruce stared at him until he cracked. "The texts said it- he?- was forged in lightning on the edge of life and death. That's not- I don't know how in the seven hells that could make a baby. An adult wouldn't be able to survive what that implies."

"But that's what we have." Bruce said, the baby had tried to put his gauntlet in his mouth, but Bruce had a small, soft dog toy in his utility belt, clean and safe for a toddler to chew on.

"Yeah, I think I need to do more research... A lot more." John said and stood up. "You don't mind taken care of him, yeah? I mean, I wouldn't trust me with a baby."

"I want a copy of all your research so far and to be kept updated on all new information." Bruce said. He had his own list of things to help figure out what the toddler was. First thing he was going to do when he got home was a DNA test.

John nodded stiffly and walked out of the room like a man on a mission. Bruce was thankful the man was taking this seriously.

"Oh, this is going to be great!" Dick said leaning in where John had been. "A little brother I can finally have a good first impression on."

"Aren't you Robin's favorite?" Bruce asked as Dick offered his hand to the toddler like he would a new pet.

"Not at first." Dick said as the toddler ignored him in favor of the toy. "You remember how we were all stunned when he showed up and interacting with him had a real learning curve."

"Red Ro-"

"Neither of us were in a good headspace when we first met him."

Bruce sighed, he didn't bring up Jason, but, "Black Bat?"

"Sister." Dick answered quickly. "This time, I'm going to be nice right from the start."

"So does this mean no burgers?" Barry asked with a sigh.

Clark answered for him, "B probably wants to take the kid somewhere safe. The three of us can still go though."

Barry smiled, but Bruce knew it wasn't the same when he wasn't there. Sure, Barry, Clark, and Diana got along- actually were real friends who enjoyed each other's company. But Barry was looking forward to sharing work stories Bruce. Clark could keep up with the technical aspects, and Diana valued his knowledge, but Bruce was actually interested in it.

Clark was the least disappointed since he and Bruce hung out far more out of costume. Diana was right in the middle, wanting to spend time with her friends, but she values duty enough she would never ask Bruce to put herself over a child.

Diana shook her head and laughed at Bruce. "I do believe this means you have more children than friends."

Bruce gave her a look that meant, "yeah, you're right but it's rude to say so."

"Hey, Bats, can I have a word?" John asked as everyone started filling out of the meeting room.

Batman gave him the side eye. "You don't usually come to meetings."

John raised his hands in surrender. "Caught me, I'm really here to ask you a favor."

Batman looked over by the door, where it looked like Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash were there waiting for him. But, he turned back to John and asked "What do you want?"

John tried not to cringe at the tone in his voice, telling himself that's just what a tired after meeting Batman sounded like. "I need help with a puzzle box."

John pulled said box out of his coat pocket and held it up for Batman to take, but the man examined it closely without touching it. "What's in it?"

"A world-ending weapon, probably. There's like, a 10% chance it's a world-ending monster." John helpfully provided.

"And you want to open it..."

"Yeah..." John sighed then explained, "It's part of a pair, with this-" John pulled a gear shaped dial puzzle out of his pocket. "But, since I solved this one, that one wont work for me."

"Why do you want to open it?"

"Because, whoever solves the puzzles control it."

"But you've been magically locked out of solving this one." Batman pointed at the box still in John's hand.

"Yeah, so I need someone good at solving puzzles -you- and who's dabbled enough in magic to effect the box -you again- and who I trust not to use whatever's in it to destroy the world."

Batman gave him the patented bat-interrogation glare. "You still haven't explained why you want to release this weapon."

"It's a fail safe. Like the two keys thing governments put in front of their nuclear bombs. According to the texts I read, this isn't the only way to release the whatever-it-is, but once we solve both these puzzles, you and I will have control of it and absolutely no one else can get it." John wiggled the box at Batman. "We do this now, we don't have to pray I can track down all the alternate methods, and neither of us can use it without the other's permission."

Batman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're certain this is the best method to ensure the safety of as many people as possible?"

"Yep."

"And you're certain I'm the right person you want as the other half of your fail safe? Not another magic user?"

"I feel the degree of separation will be useful in determining what situations call for using a world-ending weapon."

Batman let another deep sigh and took the puzzle box.

"You two staying late?" Superman asked as John and Batman sat back down at the table. Him, Wonder Woman, and the Flash came over to check on them.

"Sorry, we can get dinner together another time." Batman said without taking his eyes off the box. Each side had nine squares, each with a rune on them that glowed when pressed. There was a pattern, John was sure, but after he'd solved the dial puzzle, the runes where blurred and the squares didn't light up when he pressed them.

"How long do you think your puzzle thing will take?" Flash asked, looking over Batman's shoulder as he seemed to solve the puzzle quickly. Or so John hoped, again, he couldn't actually see what kind of progress Bats was having.

"Ten minutes, tops." Nightwing interrupted. Batman did glance at him, but then went right back to work on the box. "We still have plenty of time to go to Bobby's before closing."

"I thought you had better things to do?" Superman asked.

"And pass up on burgers with you? Never." Nightwing said with a wink. "Is John joining us when this is done?"

"I'll have to take whatever comes out of the box back to the house of Mystery." John said, though burgers did sound good at the moment.

Silence lapsed into the room as they watched Batman work. And ten minutes later, it was done. The puzzle box glowed and one of it's faces folded into itself, leaving a hole shaped just like the gear puzzle. Batman held it out and John dropped the gear into it. The room filled with a bright flash, and once it faded, sitting on the conference table between John and Batman was a toddler. He had black hair and bright blue eyes and freckles scattered across his face. He reached out a little hand towards them and started babbling.

"Fuck."

[fayes-fics]

Notte D'Amore

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Bella Notte. Exactly one year later, you find yourself at Aubrey Hall lake again...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, sex underwater, orgasms. Benedict speaking foreign languages, yep, that needs a warning.

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors note: I've finally finished this sequel that I started almost two years ago. You don't need to have read Bella Notte to read this, but it helps with the grounding of the story and shows the growth of their relationship. Thanks as always to the amazing @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

An elegant grandfather clock softly chimes midnight as you pad through the hallway of Aubrey Hall. Struggling to sleep after a rousing midsummer day of Pall Mall, you decide to go for a walk to make yourself drowsy, leaving your husband and beautiful three-month-old baby daughter sleeping soundly. 

Before you know it, you are outside on the rear terrace enjoying the night air. There, you realise that it has been exactly one year since you went for a memorable night swim, just a few short days before your wedding.

Unable to resist, you drift towards that very lake, surveying its serene, moonlit beauty again. You recall with perfect clarity how Benedict stood naked with the water hugging his hips, beckoning you in. And, like so many times since, you joined him in a new adventure. 

Wandering along its edges, you eventually pause to lean against the reddish trunk of a sturdy, towering evergreen. Inhaling deeply, you savour the refreshing fragrance of the pine needles above. Staring out at the glassy surface, vividly remembering how it felt when your husband first kissed you—how your world spun. And you giggle to yourself as you reflect that; even now, all it takes is one brush of his lips, and you are just as swept away, perhaps even more so now, knowing exactly where such journeys can end, a stirring between your legs.

“It was precisely a year ago.” 

His sonorous voice from nearby startles you; you jump and grab your chest, your heart erratic from the shock. You didn’t even hear his approach, so lost in wistful reverie for untold minutes. 

“You half scared me to death!” you scold affectionately, shaking your head as he rounds closer and slides his arms around your waist. He wears a somewhat crumpled white shirt and britches, obviously haphazardly thrown on before leaving your rooms as he always sleeps naked, not something you ever complain about.

“I am so cruel, am I not, my darling?” he chuckles.

“The very worst,” you concur dryly, settling into his embrace, always your very favourite place to be. 

“I do not know how you tolerate me…” he jests mildly, his hands running soothing patterns along your spine.

“Wait! Bella!” you exclaim, pulling back a fraction, concerned about your little bundle of joy.

“She is fine,” he soothes. “Meredith is watching her sleep.”

Your nursery maid is so often a veritable lifesaver.

“Thank you,” you smile as he draws you flush against him once more, rocking you gently in his arms for a few minutes of companionable silence.

“So is this a little trip down memory lane, Mrs Bridgerton?” He asks sotto voce, his warm lips lingering on your temple.

“Perhaps...” you coquette, that kindling flame always smouldering between you.

“Mmm, it was so very memorable,” he hums, his lips tracing over your cheek until he reaches your mouth and seizes it with a brief but fiery kiss. “Do you have any idea how much willpower it took to stop when we did? I had to go back to my room and take myself in hand,” he pouts over your lips.

“Poor, poor lamb,” you tease playfully, your hand lowering instinctively to palm his stirring cock. “I would happily have helped.”

“You were so innocent then; what a change a year makes,” his breath more laboured as your hand drags insistently over his clothing.

“I know you liked me innocent, but I think you like me even more so now,” you contend, your intent unmistakable as you make fast work of the buttons on his trousers.

“You are not wrong…” he breathes as you shove the fabric down his muscular thighs, a searing need to have him inside you right away.

“Fuck me,” you demand crudely, your hand wrapping around his bare cock. “Against this tree, right now, right here.”

He groans, surging into your grip, his hands flexing on your back. You glance at the house around his shoulder, realising you are not remotely concealed from most of the East Wing. If anyone were to drift to their window, they would get an eyeful of your husband’s naked bottom at this very moment.

“I hope no one can see us….”

“Let them watch,” he snarls, tugging off his shirt and removing your hand so he can shuck his trousers, fully naked now.

It’s a sight that always has you flustered, so much lithe musculature, his skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight. But you get little chance to admire or to run your hands along his contours, for he hauls you off your feet into his arms. Your robe and nightgown are pushed high around your hips as he presses you into the tree trunk; the fabric snags the rough bark. 

Then he guides his cock where you want, with no preamble, both groaning as he thrusts into you in one swift, decisive move. 

“Yesssss, that's it…” you hiss, your toes scraping the meat of his calf, your arms banding his neck tightly as he withdraws and then surges back in, your whole body rolling with the sheer force.

It’s only been three months since you had your baby, and he has been so tender with you since you started having sex again mere weeks ago. But tonight, you don’t want gentle; you want raw, rough passion, a reminder of just how much you cannot resist each other.  

‘“Harder husband,” you implore, finger digging into his toned flesh.

And he delivers, setting a fierce rhythm, snapping his hips in a way that ensures neither of you will last long. You moan a litany of encouragement, your eyes drifting to the lake, remembering how thrilling it felt to touch him for the first time. He grabs one of your legs and loops it over his forearm, opening you wide, your thighs burning slightly with the stretch, your mouth slackening as his pelvis glances at your clit.

“Oh yes, right there, do not dare stop,” you moan through gritted teeth, fighting off your thin silk robe.

“So very demanding tonight,” he huffs, bemused, but his pace never wavering as he assists you in tugging your nightgown off, now as naked as him. 

“Make me come,” you order, breathing heavily, bearing down into his upward thrusts, plunging yourself deeper onto his cock, greedily chasing your orgasm.

“Happily…” he retorts with a victorious smile.

But you mewl bereft as, instead of moving faster, he abruptly withdraws from you, leaving you pulsing and wanting. 

With you still in his arms, he takes a few paces and lays you down delicately by the water's edge. The verdant grass cushions your back as he quickly snakes down your torso, landing between your legs. You cant upwards and howl at his sudden acute suction on your throbbing clit. 

This is why you thank your lucky stars every damn day for your husband. You ask him to fuck you, and he changes it into something else, entirely other, taking you beyond. He tilts his head up, bringing your attention back to his handsome face framed by your thighs, his eyes glittering like the lake.

“I want to be out here all night, bringing you pleasure over and over. I don’t care if anyone sees. One of my family, even. I want everyone to know how good we are together. How lucky I am.” He turns and sucks hard on your inner thigh. “So give them a good show, my darling wife, scream for me.”

Your responding groan is loud and appreciative, your hands grabbing his head to direct his questing tongue.

This.

This is the Benedict you can never get enough of. When he’s all riled up, he is a force to behold: filthy poetry dripping from his sinful, talented mouth. Enchanted by his decadent words, your knees fall open wider, pushing yourself into his face.

“Yes, my love,” he encourages silkily as you lightly scratch your fingernails across his scalp; his reply muffled into your folds as he languidly swirls his tongue.

So you do as bidden. Begin to ride his face shamelessly, his nose nudging your clit as he slips lower to swirl his tongue into your pussy, murmuring words into your soaked, quivering flesh.

“Mia bellissima, mia dia…”

All you can do is shudder and hold tight, the ground dewy under your shoulder blades as you writhe upon him, toes curling into the muscle of his back as he feasts upon you, drinking your honeyed nectar. Notching you gently up that invisible ladder towards ecstasy as he returns to your throbbing clit.

“Mon vie, ma femme, tu es mon monde.”

Each word is like a precious jewel he drops onto your pearl, his tongue a glancing tease that has you begging for more. 

“Please husband…” you rasp, licking your lips, that telltale twinge deep in your belly.

His stubbled cheeks rasp your folds as he takes pity and sucks your clit hard between his lips and doesn't let up. Your pussy clenching in pulses, his strong hands grasp your thighs to hold you down as you buck up reflexively, all your muscles tensing as he takes you higher. Your engorged nub in his hot mouth, him driving you towards the edge with each roll of his muscular tongue. When he reaches up a hand to pinch one of your nipples, you are gone. Hurtling into the stars above, calling his name—uncaring if your lusty cries awake anyone sleeping in the house.

He growls encouragements as you begin to break under him, but his hold is still firm, not letting up, elongating your rapture. Making you thrash your head into the mossy verge, your pussy convulsing, leaking onto his chin as he chuckles richly, the echo seeming to travel through your pelvis. Knowing your body so well, he keeps suckling on your sodden flesh, running the edge of his teeth over your nub, holding you right in that state of mindless ecstasy for what feels like forever, a dizzying high that wracks your whole being, buzzing down to your fingertips and toes.

Just as it seems too much, and you want to beg him to stop, he relents, switching to delicate kisses on your inner thighs as you fight for breaths, your entire being tingling. 

“You were right,” you stutter, idly raking your fingers through his thick chestnut hair as you come back down to earth.

“About what?” he queries, resting his chin on your pubic hair.

“W-what you said to me in this very lake,” you sigh, head lolling to the side to observe the moonlit waters. “That I would receive pleasure from you at length.”

He smiles jubilantly and crawls up on all fours, landing a kiss on your lips. The tangy flavour of your release is strong on his face. And yet, even quaking and dazed, you are still greedy for more—for him, for this night not to end.

“I need you inside me again,” you appeal breathily. “In the water. Take me the way you wanted to that night, husband.” 

He looks out to the adjacent lake briefly, then back to you, that devastating lopsided smile claiming his features.

“You are full of wonderful ideas, my love. What a fitting tribute to that night.”

He swoops you into his arms bridal style, athletically springing to his feet and strides decisively into the lake. Your whoop of delight morphs into a shriek as the cold water engulfs your nethers. 

“Colder than I was expecting, too,” he acknowledges perkily but wades on regardless. 

You giggle to distract from the mild shiver at the sudden change in temperature. Impressed that his cock is still rigid at your hip as the ground under his feet falls away rapidly, the water quickly up at your ribs.

His hold changes as you both begin to float in the water, spinning so you are face to face. The juxtaposition of his warm skin and cool water is just as beguiling as it was that night. Your lips find each other in a languid kiss, wrapping your limbs around him as it deepens, that fire stoking within you that he always seems to ignite.

“Roleplay with me,” you beseech impromptu as your lips part. 

“What do you mean, my darling?” He queries, his face the picture of intrigue as his sizable hands slide over your buttocks, grabbing your cheeks.

“Pretend I am the innocent I was that night,” you whisper into his ear, pressing your pebbled nipples into his chest as you lightly bite his earlobe. “But do not be a gentleman this time.”

He groans, fingers kneading your bottom as his cock tip ruts into your belly button, telegraphing how much he loves that idea. You grab one of his hands and guide it between your legs.

“I ache there…. when you kiss me.” 

You employ the exact words you uttered to him one year ago, the moment, indeed the whole night, etched so clearly in your memory.

You watch his face cloud with a beguiling mix of tender nostalgia and pure seductive menace—his cheekbones and jaw in stark relief in the moonlight as his cadence slips lower.

“That is wonderful news, my love. That is how it should be; it means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

Your heart leaps as he recites, verbatim, his reply to you that night. A meaningful beat passes between you, silently conveying the poignancy. 

But then, just as you want, as you need, he flips the script. A sharp tang of desire floods through you as he curls his fingers into your folds.

“And fear not, I shall make that ache go away,” he rumbles. “I will take you right here. Make you mine. Ruin you for every other man. You will not want another for as long as you breathe.”

You pull him in for a kiss, burning from his possessive words, hitching your legs, encircling his waist—a blatant invitation. His other hand slides up your spine, dampening the strands at the nape of your neck, grasping there lightly as he continues in that resonant tone.

“I fear I cannot be gentle, for you have bewitched me.” It sounds like the very best kind of warning, his fingers teasing over your clit.

“I do not wish you to be,” you affirm truthfully, your lips ghosting his as you breathe other's air.

There is a rich groan from him, and his fingers are gone, replaced by the blunt head of his cock demanding entry. You gasp as he slips a fraction inside you, your eyes going wide as if this were unknown, even though all you feel is bliss from that now familiar stretch.

“Relax, my sweet, let me in,” he tutors, stilling, playing the part so perfectly.

As he inches in so slowly, you attempt a noise of astonishment, but it just sounds wanton, the hot steely plunge of his cock such a contrast to the cold water enveloping you. Part of you rues asking him to treat you as the innocent, for the slow pace is almost agnosing, like sandpaper rasping gradually over the needy edges of your desire. It makes you impatient for him to take you roughly, perhaps more than he ever has before, greedy for another spine-tingling orgasm. Even as you enjoy the cling of your pussy to his every contour.

“Well done, my love. You've taken all of me so well,” he praises as he reaches your hilt.

You can't help but peal a laugh; although his swagger is not unfounded, something about the moment feels both humorous and oddly sweet.

He breaks character too, chuckles warmly into your ear: “You are terrible at acting innocent, darling wife.”

“Maybe,” you concede as you swat his shoulder affectionately, clenching your pussy so he moans loudly. “But I am enjoying you corrupting me, you utter rake, so please continue,” you giggle.

There is a twinkle in his eye as he withdraws and then charges back into you, not at all how he treated you on your wedding night. 

“Be gentle; I am so innocent,” you entreat with theatrical irony as your eyes beg for him to be anything but. A ripe, pulpy sensation in your core needs relief.

“I warned you that I cannot…” he volleys back in a low timbre, quirking a brow and deploying that devastating, crooked smile, goosebumps breaking over your arms, and not just from the coolness of the lake.

This playfulness, slipping into and out of roles for each other's amusement, is why you feel so lucky to be married to him, indeed, why you love him so much. The deep, trusting bond you have built together since the last time you were in this very lake. And passion, so much passion. A mutual wish to always be joined as you are now, him buried inside you as you float together. 

“I love you, Benedict,” It falls from your lips unbidden. Honest. Truthful,

“I love you too, y/n.” His response is instant; his mien softens in understanding as if he intuits where your thoughts have slid. 

Profound emotion mutates to tart, metallic want, causing you to undulate upon him. The buoyancy of the water aids your movement, rising, then sinking back onto his cock, staring into his hazy eyes, blown wide by inky pupils. 

“Amore mio,” he murmurs, his gaze never straying from yours. 

Even if you do not understand every word when he speaks in another language, you can feel the meaning emanating from his very soul. 

The water ripples out in concentric waves, distorting the glassy reflection of the moon as you move together with increasing urgency, naked bodies entwined under the surface. He ploughs so deep into you, hitting that spot only he can reach—the one that makes you feel altered, renewed, powerless to do anything but chase that addictive, dizzying high again. Eyes rolling, caged in his arms, you hit a new joined rhythm that feels sublime, stealing kisses between breaths.

You moan his name as he plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the lake to give him more capacity—a dangerous smile as he grasps your bottom vice-like, slamming you onto him, redoubling his efforts. You throw your head back, your hair trailing in the water, moaning to the dark domed sky above, his mouth hot on your throat as you move together with increasing speed, the cool water a balm to your now fevered skin. Spurred on by the illicitly arousing thought that anyone in the house could see you out in the middle of the lake, fucking under the stars.

“Mon amour,” Benedict stutters, his voice tinged with the desperation of nudging ecstasy. 

“So close,” you pant, grabbing his jaw and kissing him deeply, lathing your tongue over his as one of his hands dives between your legs. You cry out into his mouth as he strums roughly against your swollen clit, flinging you towards bliss.

You feel that dam breaking, your whole being wound tight like a spring that abruptly snaps in a kaleidoscopic release. Your pussy clenching around his cock, an imprint you want to carry always. Fireworks behind your eyelids as a thrill races down your spine to all your nerve endings. Your fluttering pulls him over the edge, too, his body spasming then stilling as he releases into you, a bloom you feel inside as his teeth sink into your neck and he emits a wracking groan of sheer relief. 

For a few moments, you hover in the water, him still inside you, catching your breath. Chaste, pecking kisses and little words of reassurance as he slips from your body, both of you belatedly realise just how cold the water is now that your passions have been sated, giggling as you swim back towards the edge. Certainly not as warm as it was during last year’s heatwave.

After he has helped you out of the lake, you return hand-in-hand to your pile of discarded clothes under the trees, jostling into each other for warmth, staving off your shivers in the night air.

“I need you to promise me something…” you murmur, pulling on your nightgown, it turning translucent as it adheres to your damp skin.

“What is that, my darling wife?” he drawls, intrigued, pausing in the haphazard refastening of his trousers.

You wait until his gaze meets yours. “I know it is close to our wedding anniversary, but I need you to bring me here every year, Benedict. On this exact date… And take me right here, in this very lake…” 

His eyes flash, and he tugs you into his arms. 

“That can certainly be arranged, my love,” his words laden with dusky promise. “This shall forevermore be our notte d’amore.”

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaani @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @fern-reads @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[ivhmavie]

But I can’t help, falling in love with you

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), hwang in ho (player 001), kang dae ho (player 388) and hwang jun ho (police).

how would be if the squidgame mens where in love with you

first of all, just a little advice that inglesh its not my first language! be kind

park gyeong seok (player 246)

➴ the MOST romantic of them all

➴ he is a true gentleman. He will practically court you, slowly get to know you and gradually introduce himself into your life. He also wants to give his daughter time to get used to you

➴ made thousands of draws and paintings of you

➴ wouldn't be able to buy jewelry, chocolates or other conventional boyfriend gifts. But would make a bouquet of flowers that he would pick himself, tied in a pretty ribbon and accompanied by a painting of you

➴ would like you to meet his daughter, and would be relieved when she likes you. She would be excited when you visited them and would always ask her dad when she would see you next

➴ always calls you “darling”, and think is It's adorable when you automatically smile when you hear the affectionate name

➴ would be a little shy about it at the beginning

➴ maybe he would be insecure about his conditions, but if you could convince him that you don't care about it then he would be happy and secure in your relationship

➴ would spend some time saving up some money to do something special when I officially asked you to be his girlfriend

➴ something like a small dinner together on the little porch of his house or an afternoon picnic in a park with a beautiful view

➴ gets happy to be able to call you his girlfriend whem he talks about you

hwang in ho (player 001)

➴ would be the most cautious of all, because of his job

➴ he wants to be able to trust you, and when that fear passes, another one follows, your safety is at risk by being involved with him

➴ would find a way to find out more about you, after investigating your life a considerable amount, then he would get closer, little by little

➴ absolutely would love to hear you talking about the things you like, your hobbies, everything

➴ would spend hours watching you talk, he think it's adorable to see your gaze move away as you remember a story from your adolescence or something futile that happened at work

➴ he would like to give you gifts, but would be worried that you would think he was trying to buy your affection

➴ so he would try to do it in a subtle way. The new launch of a makeup brand you mentioned last week, the bag you thought was pretty, things like that

➴ no matter how busy he was, would try to spend some time with you

➴ would schedule a dinner at a luxurious restaurant and have a special night with you to ask you to be your girlfriend

➴ he would do this when they were alone in an intimate moment

➴ he would try to hide his real job from you until you were in a relationship for a long time. He would probably use the excuse of being an heir or something to justify how rich he is

kang dae ho (player 388)

➴ SOOO shy and awkward about it at first

➴ would try to subtly approach you, being a helpful, funny friend who would always be there when you needed them

➴ he would always accompany you wherever you go and on your errands. Do you need someone to take you to the salon? He had nothing to do anyway. Are you going to the doctor to get some tests? You don't have to do this alone

➴ whem he finally took a romantic initiative with you, everything would be planned, down to the smallest details.

➴ not that he's meticulous, but he doesn't want to risk messing it up, and planning everything makes him less nervous

➴ he would buy you flowers, but he would put together the bouquet himself, he thinks that makes the gift more intimate

➴ looks at you with the most adorable eyes ever

➴ you two resemble a typical teenage, youthful and exciting relationship

➴ he would ask his friends for help to plan something for the proposal, he wants it to be perfect

➴ do something at a place you like or that is special to the two of you, like the first restaurant you went to

➴ would give you thousands of nicknames and I would love to tell people about you when you two were official

hwang jun ho (police)

➴ would be confident, and the most natural as you approach each other

➴ he's just so cool, it seems like he always knows what to do, he never seems to get nervous on dates and he always leaves you impressed

➴ even if work keeps him a little busy, he always finds a way to see you. You probably have lunch together during the week

➴ he’s not emotional, but he also hates the "casual" trope, no matter how slowly he takes things he knows what he wants

➴ remembers little things about yourself, your long-time friend who lives far away, your pet who died, your group of friends from high school

➴ he likes to touch your hair, when you are lying together watching television he would stroke it

➴ he would probably give you a gift like a necklace, bracelet or earring at the beginning of your relationship, and he's always happy and smiles when he sees you wearing it.

➴ whem he left work early, he would surprise you by visiting you early and bringing you flowers

➴ he's not the biggest fan of nicknames, but he thinks dear isn't cheesy and is romantic

➴ he would decide to officially ask you to be his girlfriend during a talk about you with someone and realized that no matter how much you acted like boyfriends, he had never made it official

➴ would buy you a beautiful engagement ring, and I would make a point of holding your hand so that it would appear when he introduced you to people

[yermes]

Heres why your life is in shambles 🌩️

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Pick a meme

123

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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Socials: My Socials **☾**

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The cards

X of wands🍁

God does it suck being a person with obligations and responsibilities, im not even bullshitting or being sarcastic. It sucks. Sometimes you just want to sit in bed and fucking rot but can you? Any day where you would want to sit in bed is rocked by the piles and piles of work you have. Obligations don’t go away, I am assuming you have a big goal you are going towards, so its not like you have the work it is something you are passionate about, but it does suck when you can’t get a break. Even from something or someone you love, you should get a break, even in finals week, its hard when you can’t just never catch a goddamn fucking break. But remember, you run your obligations not the other way around.

The Tempest 🌾

Resentful emotions is never fun or a vibe. There is something all encompassing about cortisol. When a negative emotion overtakes you the urge to destroy everything around you is high, but in that you also destroy yourself so. Its a lose/lose battle. Bite the bullet and enact revenge, or deal with the negative emotions and do what’s debatably harder and let that shit go, like legitimately, just, let that fucking shit go. I know when your mad the biochemical aspects of emotions sit in your gut like a fucking brick, but be aware of it. This is a chance to be better than you were. Do not stoop down no matter how tempting.

The tower🏰

Something you have been working on has just absolutely crumbled around you. You need to break down something absolutely and completely to rebuild, but how do you rebuild something you spent so much time and effort into, do you mourn and rebuild brick by brick? Do you take a breather and go at it again? Anyways you are in an awful fucking spot where you feel like all your time and energy is fucking wasted. And unfortunately it is a part of life, some of the rebuilds are better or worse, sometimes its extremely hard, sometimes your are not done building so its whatever, or sometimes you have been done building for years and you believe it to be done and you have to completely reshape.

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Extras:

Story/vent:

At snoqualmie with my pookie

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[zepskies]

Bahahaha I love Whose Line Is It Anyway!!

Though I'm so sorry to do this to you, friend. 🥲 That scene in the park was even hard for me to write - Dean's lack of self-worth is really pulling them down, isn't it? 💙💙

I could keyboard smash you for this entire comment/reblog.

lmaooo I don't blame you, this whole chapter is an angst fest! 😅😅

Dean wanting to buy her flowers was adorable, but that last minute guilty conscience of his when Michael showed up… I want him to punch his lights out. Why can’t two wrongs make a right just in this one instance lol. He only gave Michael his just desserts. He deserves to be cheated on.

Ughh yes Michael is so frustrating, but trust, Dean's gonna get his chance. 😏 I know, the cheating aspect is "wrong" in principle of course, and I personally hate cheating, but I feel like in this case it's a bit justified. 😅 We're just at an era in history where subjects like this were so very taboo, and women so often got the short end of the stick, while men had very little accountability as long as they maintained a "respectable" appearance in society. 💔

I’m so scared for your cliffhanger though. With the little hints of the meat factory business, and Michael just being an all out tosser, I’m super scared it’s going to be revealed that he’s involved with some big crime syndicate - I want to say the mafia, but I have no idea if it’s the right era - and now she’s in danger, and I’m really really hoping that’s not the case.

Oooh you're very warm! Everything is going to "resolve" in Part 5, but there are still a few big reveals in store, especially when it comes to her safety. ❤️‍🩹

I love this so much, and I can’t wait to read the next one! ❤️ how you pull everything together astounds me every time!

Oh wow, thank you so much, lovely!! I'm so very glad you're enjoying the story so far. 🥹 We're almost to the big finale!!~

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers were served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and didn’t bother to slam it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[wlwsoccerfics]

Just a little Crush(Feli RauchXReader)

A/N: Short but sweet.

Summary: you are the German National Teams photographer and Feli has a crush on you.

You stood on the pitch, taking pictures of the team joking around with one another while they were waiting for practice to start. Feli was talking to Giulia. Well she was trying to. You had just given her a wave with your free Hand, the camera was in the other one. And all of sudden Feli forgot how to talk. you heard Giulia tease her about this.

"you are down bad, Feli!" She spoke up. Feli looked at Giulia and blushed.

"shh, what If she hears you?! she doesn't need to know about my crush on her. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of her!" You heard Feli reply. You did have to admit you had a crush on her as well. But she didn't know that. Maybe it was time to tease her a bit before asking her out on a date.

So you walked past her and winked which resulted in her staring at you with her mouth open.

"Catch Feelings, not flies!" Laura said as she walked over to her.

"she winked at me." Feli told Giulia and Laura.

"who did?" Klara asked.

"y/n." Laura answered with an amused smile. Klara grinned softly.

"Feli when will you ask her out?" She wanted to know.

"you like her for a while now! Tell her before Camp is over!" Laura said.

"uh..." Was all they got from Feli.

You currently moved over to Lea and Linda warming Up. Taking some pictures of them. You noticed that even though the Training had started, Feli still managed to look over to you ever now and then. But she thought she was subtle about it. Which wasn't the case at all. Whenever you would Cross Path with her on the pitch you would wink at her or causally flip your hair a bit. Little things like that that absolutely made her lose Focus every now and then. Her teammates didn't stop teasing her. They found the entire thing hilarious. So did you!

When it was time for a water break you also took pictures. And 'accidentally' brushed your hand against hers, when you walked past her. Which made her blush.

"oh i am sorry, Felicitas!" You said gently and then continued to take more pictures.

"it's quite alright!" She told you, trying hard to keep her breathing at a normal pace.

You continued to take lots of pictures, back at the hotel you took some pictures of the team playing FC 25 table Tennis and doing other fun activities.

Feli stood up after she was done with playing FC 25, she went to grab her drink from a table.

"hey Felicitas!" You whispered into her ear, standing next to her. "I happen to know that you have a thing for me. Don't deny it i heard all the teasing." You told her and she blushed softly.

"i am....yeah." she replied.

"don't worry it's mutual! So let's go on a date?" You suggested. Which she happily agreed to. She was surprised but then smiled.

"i would love to." She replied. You moved closer and touched her hand gently. So she gently intertwined your fingers. Neither of you caring if the Team saw. But they didn't even noticed when you walked out to go on a walk and they totally didn't saw the kiss. But with both of you gone they sure had an idea of what had happened. Finally!