#messiest international break ever??

[stormoflina]

So, this international break we had:

- Macca pregnancy reveal

- Trent to Madrid news tsunami

- public meltdown on all socials re: Trent to Madrid news

- Gary Neville speaking nonsense (water is wet)

- Dominik beefing with Arda Güler and getting himself unofficially banned for life from Türkiye

- Dominik getting married a day later after he was beefing with Arda Güler

- news about Newcastle going for Quansah & news about Quansah not going to Newcastle

- some useless Richard Hughes PR

- Mo being The Messiest Diva on his instastories and hooking the majority of our fanbase to some serious hopium

- bald Ibou

[laurbiek]

as promised... something!

....::::**•°✾°•**::::........::::**•°✾°•**::::.... ....::::**•°✾°•**::::....

She hears the distinctive sound of the WhatsApp video call. Its weird when they're in different countries, the mode of communication changes time and time again to avoid crazy roaming charges. She's used to being able to call him quick using the regular phone app, to see if he wanted her to pick up dinner or to ask him nicely if he would switch her laundry out for her.

It's weird to start over on another app, it almost feels like they're starting another relationship. It feels so different. The inside jokes and frequent questions about the HBO password are nowhere to be found, in it's place is an empty blank page, waiting hopefully to be filled with the same.

She picks up her phone from the edge of the bed and swipes to answer the call. She looks at the time when she does, 10:04, almost five minutes late for their scheduled call.

At least that has stayed the same.

The slight hum of the highway plays in the background, and there Andrew sits. He looks tired, but not over consumed. It's a good kind of tired, like the kind you get after a good, but long day. More of a content-tired. His hair is in the messiest bun possible, obvious that he needed it out of the way and had lost all ability to care. He's got his glasses on, and Y/N remembers when he Facetimed her from the eye doctor to see if they looked good before he ordered them.

She internally thinks that they still do.

"Hey love", he finally speaks between bites of a sandwich. She looks down at the table the phone is propped on, and sees the distinctive red and white wrappings.

"Are you kidding, you went to Wawa without me..."

"I'm sorry! The band voted before we left Philly! I told them you'd be mad but they don't seem to care about my marriage so... I had to"

"This is a betrayal, of the highest degree. I can't picture a world where I can forgive you"

"If I could ship one across the Atlantic to you, you know I would"

There is a few beats of silence, they both know that statement means more than just a sandwich.

She finally breaks,

"How are you holding up?"

"Eh, not bad. I've not been this tired in a while but I'll get used to it soon. I've done it before."

"It's quiet in the bus, where is everyone else?"

"Sleeping"

"So everyone else is sleeping and you stayed up to call me?

He takes another bite of his sandwich before answering simply,

"Yeah."

She stares at him through the phone as he keeps eating like he doesn't understand the niceness of his actions, it's just second nature to him.

"Thank you," she says, voice full of genuine earnestness.

He doesn't respond to that, instead, he switches to another topic. He doesn't feel like he needs thanks for his actions, he would rather thank her for being around to call him.

"How are you at home, everything good?"

"Yeah, there was a dead bird in the yard yesterday, Elwood found it while we were playing, he almost picked it up but I got to him before he did. That's honestly the most exciting thing that's happened here since you left."

"But that's the joy of the country isn't it, that nothing ever happens?"

"Yeah. But I would rather do nothing with you than do nothing alone"

There's a long stretch of silence between them before Andy notices a tear fall down Y/N's cheek. There are no other signs of her sadness, no shaking shoulders or audible sounds. Just a few gentle tears that he would've missed if he wasn't so utterly enraptured by her face on the five-inch screen. His heart breaks.

"Hey hey, it's ok love, it's just a bit longer. I'll be home for a break in a few weeks. "

"I know. It's just really hard."

He doesn't know what to say to that at first. He wants to hammer on about how she knew what she was getting into, and this was an inevitability. But he knew she knew that. Him repeating it isn't going to make either of them feel any better. The next part of him yearned to just get on a plane and be at home, but that wasn't fair to anyone. Not his bandmates, not the concertgoers, and not Andy who loved what he did more than anything.

All he could say was

"I know."

You imagine the separation being hard but no one really prepares you for it. You can't prepare for it. It's the pain of losing a routine and a lover all at once. It's the frustration of needing help, of needing someone to take something off your plate and having someone willing to, but that someone is 1000 miles away. Literally.

She's crying a little harder now, still silent, with the tears increasing in frequency and size. He says again,

"I know. I know how hard it is cause I feel it too. You know what I miss the most right now?"

"What?"

"I miss the things that you do that piss me off. The annoying stuff. I miss how you always steal bites of my food."

She can't help but laugh at that. He keeps talking,

"I miss how cold your feet are and how you're always trying to shove them under me to warm them. And how often you leave dirty clothes on the floor."

She joins in this time,

"I miss your hair clogging the shower drain. And how you use every possible dish when you cook."

"See, doesn't it hurt a little less knowing that you don't have to unclog the shower for a while?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure you sleep easier without my cold feet poking you."

Theres another small pause, but this one is not as sad as the rest of them. This one feels like two people comfortable with each other, just basking in the silence, feeling no pressure.

"It sucks love, it really does. But it gets easier. And there are less shitty days. And it's not for forever."

"Ok, it's shitty, but I've felt shittier. And it's not for forever."

"Yeah."

"OK," she says, wiping her eyes a bit to try to show a bit of a braver face, "this is getting kind of bummer-ish, talk to me a bit about tour stuff"

For the rest of the call, he prattled on about various events and hijinks at his shows, on the road, and in between. About halfway through the story, he realized that she had fallen asleep and for some reason, he finished the story before hanging up. Possibly hoping that she would wake back up, but mostly enjoying the domestic feeling of talking to her. He eventually hung up, settling with the fact that she was indeed asleep for real. A few hours and a timezone later after he woke up from his own nap, he noticed a WhatsApp message again,

I forgot the HBO password again...

[ashketeers]

Brinky Love Confession and their emotional struggles ramble bc I thought about this last night and I needed to write it down bc it was driving me insane.

It’s kinda angsty

I am a firm believer that Brinky would have the messiest love confession ever, absolute emotional wreck of a confession.

Pinky is obviously the one who confesses first, Brain would go his entire life without ever revealing his feelings for Pinky and take them to his grave if he didn’t.

Now, Pinky might be the more emotionally intelligent of the two but he isn’t exactly emotionally stable. Neither of them are, they just act in different ways.

Pinky can quickly go from happy to sad to happy, he can be loud and yell when he’s frustrated but usually goes away to collect himself when he’s upset. Pinky is “smarter” in this way since he can actually usually calm himself down and can reflect on emotions.

Brain however is not in touch with his emotions. He turns sadness and fear into anger and frustration. He builds a barrier and refuses to take it down, even if it harms him as well. He completely shuts down and makes accusations, anything to make him look better because his ego is being hurt every time he lets himself get emotional, even if it’s anger.

As for the confession, like I said, Pinky is 100% the one who tells Brain. Pinky has showed signs, some more vague and some very obvious signs that he’s attracted to Brain and shows romantic interest. Now here’s a thought.

Is Pinky aware of Brain’s attraction? Is Brain even aware of all the things and acts he’s done that shows how he feels for Pinky?

I think Brain is slightly aware but he pushes it back into his mind, afraid to act on it, maybe some internalized fear? Who knows.

One might think Pinky’s too stupid to realize all these signs from Brain. But I beg to differ, Pinky is very good at reading Brain, despite his low intelligence. As I said before, Pinky is obviously the more emotionally intelligent one, he’s even told Brain “Maybe if you were more sentimental.” when Brain brought up his crush on that one sea lion.

Pinky have also on multiple occasions commented on Brain’s odd or unusual behaviors, he also tries to cheer him up in ways he knows usually work. It’s quite obvious that Pinky knows Brain on an emotional level that Brain might not even know himself.

So, does Pinky notice and is aware of Brain’s feelings? I think so, but he also knows that Brain isn’t any good at expressing his emotions so I like to think that during his confession, he takes Brain’s feelings and behavior into account.

Brain, being the emotionally constipated mouse he is, he can’t comprehend having his walls broken down and he feels exposed. He barely registers Pinky’s confession, because why would he? He doesn’t need to listen to that drivel, he doesn’t need a romantic relationship, he doesn’t need anyone. But now he’s bare, exposed and vulnerable. Pinky can read him like an open book, and that doesn’t sit well with Brain. He’s afraid of being vulnerable, helpless.

Brain turns this fear into anger, as always. He says things he shouldn’t or wouldn’t say. He doesn’t even recognize himself, his walls are shattered and all he can spew is in self defense. He knows that Pinky is not a threat, but logic is out the window and he can’t stand not being in control of the situation.

Pinky, who’s opened up his heart and (naively) expected Brain to open up too is upset and quite honestly disappointed. Of course he sees through this act and knows Brain is upset and afraid, but he doesn’t get why Brain can’t reflect on it like he does? And why can’t Pinky help him? Didn’t it feel better having someone else tell your feelings for you?

They both need a break from each other, Brain is still in defensive mode but without anyone to take it out on, he doesn’t know what to do.

Pinky is trying to calm himself down, he loves and cares for Brain, he really does. But it’s hard to see the one you love in such distress over something that should be wonderful (in Pinky’s words). Love is supposed to be happy, not sad. Why doesn’t Brain realize that he’s happy when he lets his guard down? All those involuntary and carefree behaviors, the hugs, the gazes, the “my dear pinky”, the rare occasion of hearing him speak fondly of Pinky, that he doesn’t deserve him and that he’s too good for him.

Brain thinks about what Pinky told him, really thinks about it. The confession that is, not the breaking of his emotional wall. His feelings are reciprocated. So why didn’t he just tell Pinky the same and let himself be happy?

Well, because in his eyes he doesn’t deserve it and he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t need it either. What has Brain ever done that got Pinky of all people to love him? Obviously he doesn’t realize that Pinky sees through his persona and knows Brain for who he is. He’s passionate, determined, caring and loving when he lets himself be. All those things are under a protective layer, and that layer is what Pinky wants to get past. Both for himself and for Brain.

Pinky of course, in his mid-emotional-ramble, said all of this in his own “Pinky” way. It only clicks with Brain just now though, and now he feels bad, guilty, unlovable.

Brain wants to go to Pinky, his defense mechanism and ego be damned, he wants to spill his own feelings to Pinky. But he can’t bring himself to do that, not just yet, but god he wants to, he knows that’s the right thing to do, but it’s so difficult.

Pinky is conflicted over whether to give Brain time or speak to him a second time. He might push Brain even further away, but at the same time, he saw that look on Brain’s face. It was hopeful, even if only a little glimpse, he let his guard down for just a split second. He wants to see that again, he wants it to last longer, forever. He wants Brain to let himself be happy. Brain never gives up, so neither will Pinky.

Pinky goes to Brain.

It’s quiet, it’s desperate, it’s tearful, it’s physical and it was about damn time.

They try to talk, both trying to be the bolder one in this situation. But it’s pretty damn difficult to have a conversation when you’re all over each other in a desperate attempt to be closer than you’ve ever been before. All emotional guards are down, all emotions are spilling out, it’s been years of pining, some years they didn’t even know they were in love. For all they knew, it was merely friendship. That’s what they thought at least. But they’re aware, they’re inseparable and it will hurt. They know it will hurt, they know it will be a rocky journey for the both of them.

But it’s so worth it if they can kiss each other like they currently are, forever.

[eliotquillon]

For the character ask game, what about Otto?

one aspect about them i love:

god i’m such a sucker for this in general with characters but i LOVE the contrast between otto’s “idgaf fuck it we ball” external attitude and his internal “i am a Hot Mess and Nobody Likes Me” attitude. it’s such a funny contrast to book 1 otto and also it pretty much explains everything about him, ever. he’s just a silly goofy teenage boy!!

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

hmm i think the fandom understands otto pretty well but i really wish more people talked about the parallels between him and raven? i have brain rot obviously but i think they have so so so much in common in terms of trauma + upbringing + various identity crises and while i do joke and jape about their politician killing world tour i genuinely think they understand each other on a level that not many other people get. i love the cheeky irreverent side of their friendship but i think they have a very genuine connection that otto would really rely on post bloodline. something something they would both fight through hell to help each other but would complain the entire time

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

these are literally canon TO ME but: 1) otto is autistic, 2) otto had a vague crush on shelby around interception point era but even he was self aware enough about how much she’d rip the shit out of him for it that he never said anything, and 3) for me, otto’s post bloodline future involves him trying to immediately throw himself back into glove, realising it isn’t what he wants, and then taking a very long break to go to uni and eventually becoming a teacher or a professor. with the occasional heist for old times sake

one character i love seeing them interact with

SHELBY TRINITY. say it with me: shelby/otto nation. if shelby/otto have 1000 fans i am one of them. if they have 10 fans i am one of them. etc etc. even just platonically i love their rivalry and the way they bring out the best AND worst of each other and just how much they genuinely love and care about each other. one of my favourite scenes is in deadlock when shelby literally runs over to him and basically flings herself into his arms. i do ship them in a “i think they maybe had a very brief teenage fling that was horrific for everyone involved/both had a crush on each other at the same time but mutually decided not to pursue it” way but outside of that i genuinely adore their friendship

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

this is kind of niche but i really love the scene at the end of rogue where nero sits at otto’s bedside and apologises to him and i always wish we had more of that…idk, tenderness between them? i think it’s obvious that otto genuinely respects nero a Lot and while we do get quite a few scenes of them together in canon i have always felt robbed of my graduation/epilogue scene with the two of them together. nero really turned otto into the man he is and i just wish we saw more of them together

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

kind of talked about this before with the otto/shelby stuff but here’s another one: i ardently believe that otto is the messiest person alive (because he spent so much time running off doing his own thing at st seb’s) and that it drove wing INSANE to point where one of their only real arguments was in first year when otto lost it over the snoring and wing lost it over the literal mountain of assignments on his desk. they didn’t speak for a full day and then the next morning they both woke up and apologised at the exact same tjme. shelby likes to take the piss by using it as her “horror story” whenever they all watch a scary movie together lmaoo

[trashcatsnark]

Ooooh, gimmie those juicy, juicy Johnny backstory headcanons 👀👀👀

Okay, so I always feel kind of bad? I guess, talking about my ideas of his backstory because A) I feel like they’re very cliche, 

B) I know I don’t know every drop of TTRPG Lore, despite that not truly being canon to the game a lot of the time and also the cyberpunk universe timeline is kinda a mess, so i just do whatever i want (like samurai’s starting when he was 15 and also when the war he served in started, like the amount of overlap between the war and samurai’s active years is insane and the game can’t decide when Johnny was a soldier and when he was a grungy rocker)  

C) given CDPR still plans to expand on the game with DLC and stuff, I know it’s fully possible that my ideas will be debunked in the coming months. 

So, take all of these ideas with a grain of salt and as always if your headcanons conflict with mine; that’s cool that’s why they’re headcanons

I feel like Johnny had a rough childhood firstly, cause in the immortal words of Linda Belcher;  “Look at how you stand. People who had good childhoods don't stand like that.” Like everything about him screams shitty childhood. My brain for some reasons specifically imagines, alcoholic abusive father and enabling compliant mother. Which, again, I know is the cliche of shitty childhood backstories, but it is cliche largely because its an unfortunately common reality. I imagine his first guitar is probably one of the only nice gifts he ever got and music was largely an escape. I came up with the idea too of his father having been a blue collar worker who was injured on the job; unable to work afterwards, given barely anything for workers comp and ongoing unemployment. Leaving the family struggling financially. Fucked over by his employers, turning to abusing pills and alcohol to cope with pain and raging at Johnny and Johnny’s mother. Teaching and instilling habits that would follow Johnny too. 

I like the idea of Johnny and Kerry meeting first as kids, junior high to high school. And between the years of at least 13-15, the earliest conception stages of samurai started. And I do mean the earliest, messiest, barebones stages of Samurai; it was basically two teenage boys playing and scream singing their unrefined lyrics in a garage. Cause they were kids and just wanted something to do, something to get their mind off the shitstorm of life. Maybe, i debate internally, they do manage to meet Nancy, Denny, and Henry maybe they all grew up in Texas and with someone more competent even at their young ages, Nancy manages to get them actually going a bit as a young band. A few little underground grungy gigs playing at bars they weren’t old enough to drink in. 

Now again, formation of Samurai and Johnny serving in the war, lead to like the biggest question marks in his backstory because nothing lines up very well. The war he served in started when he was fifteen, albeit that’s not for sure when he enlisted. Given we’ve been told children can in universe be scouted by corps to be their soliders; its not out of the realm of possibility that he served before he was 18 and was drafted as a child. But. Johnny specifically states he enlisted, that he made that choice. I’ve stated before that given how long the war lasted, its fully possible he enlisted at 18, served so much of the last four years of the war then ditched following his friend dying for him. 

However, I have also considered and really do personally like the idea, that Johnny did enlist himself and did so prior to being 18, though not as young as 15. Because, he forged his documents to enlist. There’s incidents and documentation of people as young as 15 faking their birth certificates and high school diplomas in order to enlist. I could absolutely see a 16-17 year old Johnny, frustrated with life and thinking he could have a bigger impact in the world in the military, forging his documents and enlisting. This leads to of course Samurai breaking up for that time. 

He serves around 4-5 years, deserting and leaving around 2009. Spends his month spinning his wheels and staring at the Pistis Sofia. He comes out of his funk and is ready to send his message about the dangers of corps to the world and he knows just how to do it. Fully adopts the name Johnny Silverhand and goes to track down his old friend Kerry. Samurai is freshly reformed. 

Right around that same time, he meets Rogue. (which even this is fucky in canon????? Rogue says lets pretend its 2015 and idk what a bastard you are, Alt died in 2013, he’d already cheated on Rogue by then???? ANYWAY) They meet about the 2009-2010 mark as Samurai is coming back together. Personally, I like to imagine they met while she was on the job. She had to eliminate a target who happened to be at the venue Samurai was doing a gig and Johnny managed to stumble upon her snapping the guy’s neck or something. And she thinks her covers blown, but hahaha Johnny’s into that and is like “hey, you want a drink?” and is then like determined to get with her and they fall into a relationships. Then around 2011-2012 he fucks it all up, cheats, there in my opinion is definite overlap in his relationship with Rogue and his relationship with Alt. 

I also feel like he met Alt at a samurai gig? I can’t remember the TTRPG lore of it, but I feel like in general Johnny met most of the women he had relationships with at Samurai gigs, partially cause he’s a just...a liitle egotistical. Alt however was there as someone who was genuinely into the music, (Rogue at one point in canon condescendingly calls her a groupie and I can’t but feel there’s a bit of truth in thats how it started). But Johnny started to legitimately feel things for her, but being Johnny, he never properly articulated that and always had to keep fucking it up. They fall into a pretty whiplashy toxic relationship over the course of a year or two where they do genuinely feel for each other, but Johnny can’t ever let his walls down enough to tell her that in earnest and is constantly doing things to fuck up the relationship, cause he’s a dick. Until in 2013, well, we know what happens. 

Johnny has to spend some time with nomads, (probably after releasing Never Fade Away, because I do see this man as the kind of guy to postpone going in hiding just to release his song for Alt before doing so) as do Rogue and Santiago after the attack on Arasaka. Because Johnny’s busy trying not to be spotted. They wait for the heat to die down before Johnny comes back to Night City. Him and Rogue rekindle things for a time, but it ultimately is on and on and dies out again, because Johnny is stinky bastard man. Kerry had already been talking about going solo and by the time Johnny’s back in the city he had and Johnny does his solo thing for a while too. But ultimately Samurai reforms for a bit, in 2020, neither Kerry or Johnny quite ready to let it go yet. Somewhere also during this, Spider Murphy helps deliver a message from Alt about her status and asking him to let it go. He does not and joins the Morgan Blackhand mission to attack Arasaka Tower in hopes of saving Alt’s construct in the process. 

Thats the barebones of some of my thoughts and headcanons; Im sure some are not lore compliant, I’m sure my timeline is messy and clashes horrifcally with CDPR’s also messy timeline. But, these are some of my thoughts, headcanons and ideas that will probably be defunct and pointless in a week. 

[wardens-stew]

The Mask Falling Hints MASTERPOST

Clearly I have wayyy too much time on my hands! 

I have compiled a list of information Samantha Shannon has divulged on social media about The Mask Falling, mostly paraphrased from her Tumblr and Twitter. Some of it dates back as far as 2016, so it’s not certain that all of it will happen - I’ve included an asterisk for the tidbits in which Samantha explicitly mentioned that it was pre-editing. I didn’t include a link to the original source because that would be too much work, but if anyone has questions I can probably find it pretty easily! The recent ARC reviews also include some hints, but I haven’t included them because that would be a crap-ton of text. Feel free to add anything I missed! Anyway enjoy the fruits of my obsession! 

Hints:

We will find out how badly Warden was affected by Paige’s torture - there’s a lot about the effects of her torture in the book 

The non-binary character is a free-world spy, pretending to be French 

Paige has issues with drinking water and showering 

Paige will make another valiant effort to get Warden to talk about his feelings 

Paige’s demisexuality is clarified -  she reflects on the way she wants in comparison to the way the allosexual Nick and Eliza do

Paige gets slammed into the wall by someone, but not Terebell (also not Warden, because then she would be very dead) 

The grey market storyline continues

Etymological connection of Arcturus meaning bear-guard and Mahoney meaning descendant of the bear is worked into the books 

Paige cries

Paige’s PTSD is a thread throughout the book 

Paige has mental and physical difficulties following her torture 

“The scope of everything gets bigger, there's more focus on the free world and how it interacts with Scion, and you'll find out more about Rephaite history and the origin of clairvoyance.”

You may figure out what happened to Procyon

Warden’s aura type is mentioned*

Paige starts calling Warden Arcturus. They have a discussion about it. But she keeps calling him Warden in front of other people. 

The prologue begins about an hour after The Song Rising 

Warden asks Paige to teach him Irish

Contains clues as to the big secret at the heart of the series 

Warden does a few very sweet things

We’ll find out a reason why Nashira considers Warden a possession rather than a partner*

Paige is at her most fragile

One of the characters eats an orange

There is a distinct Priory parallel in one section of the story

Paige asks Warden if Rephaim can get drunk 

We will find out if Rephaim can get physically ill

We’ll get a piece of information that may help us understand the Rephaite logic behind Warden feeding on Paige’s aura 

More about the golden cord

Paige’s feelings with her father will be explored 

We will find out why it was common knowledge amongst Rephaim that Terebell and Warden were once mated 

Warden might tell us what would happen if he tried to eat

More about voyant-amaurotic sex will be explained 

We will learn more about the Rephaim’s internal politics and conflicts 

We get to see Paige’s birthday

We we’ll find out how Warden knows how to develop Paige’s gift*

Paige and Warden butt heads over right and wrong 

We’ll find out why Warden said that Sargas are the only Rephs who choose their mates

We’ll find out more about the half-urge

We’ll find out more about the complicated history between Warden and Terebell

Warden is planning to learn Gaelic (pre-editing)

We’ll find out two of the reasons why Warden hates Nashira so much*

We’ll find out about the promise Warden made to Nashira that she alludes to before the Bicentary

Warden says something with an exclamation mark

Warden will tell us more about the memory of Terebell, and how it was a prelude to one of the defining moments of his existence 

Paige visits Warden’s dreamscape a few times, but we only see it once

Paige addresses the author directly 

Nick isn’t in the book at all

The plot takes place only in Paris

Paige dies her hair red

A character Samantha did not originally plan to be in TBS4 now is

There’s a big scene in the Sainte-Chapellle in Paris

The book is shaping up to be the darkest book in the series, but also contains the most jokes 

Paige feels really ill for most of the book 

Samantha starts hinting at the Grand Backstory of the series 

Paige is under strict orders to stay inside for a month, but she breaks the rules to explore Paris 

The main antagonist was born in “the burning summer of 2019”

We’ll find out about two of Warden’s past relationships 

Paige and Warden have to get food deliveries from a guy called Albéric because they’re not allowed to go outside 

There’s espionage 

Warden uses the super unnecessary word “sennight”

A lot of the book takes place underground

We learn if a non-polyglot could ever learn Gloss 

There is a Very Awkward Conversation*

There is a time skip between the fourth and fifth books

Warden smiles a lot… with his eyes

The ending will change everything 

Scion must change its public face due to an event that happens at the end

People who liked The Mime Order will love it

TBS4 picks up when Paige is resting.

It will go into more detail about how Rephaim emerge

It marks the beginning of Beautiful Dresses in The Bone Season 

It introduces a Rephaite character Samantha absolutely loves, with her favorite Rephaite name 

There’s a scene Samantha has wanted to write for years 

The ending is very dark 

There’s a cute priory reference 

There’s a character Samantha loves - “she’s so cool that I don’t know how a nerd like me invented her”

“The relationship between Warden and Paige gets deeper and more complicated in this one, and you get to know Warden a little better.”

“[Paige and Warden] are together a lot in this book, as they’re sharing a safe house in Paris. It’s the first time they’ve spent a significant amount of time with one another since they escaped Sheol I.  You’ll actually glimpse the ways they both react to being stuck inside in The Mask Falling, as they’re meant to stay hidden in a safe house for a month so Paige can start to recover from her ordeal.”

“It’s a love song to Paris in the way The Mime Order was a love song to London.”

“[Paige and Warden do have some happy calm moments.] Although there’s a lot of action in the book, there’s also quite a lot of downtime. Paige is still recovering from her ordeal in the Archon, so she can’t always be out in the world kicking ass. She’s resting as well, trying to get her strength back.”

“I won’t lie, The Mask Falling is a book to fear . . . but there are some nice bits. Including some coffee-drinking.”

“[Paige and Warden] do so much in this book. So much.”

“Most of the characters who didn’t go to Paris are absent from TBS4.”

“Paige and Warden do so much in this book, I just couldn’t cram any other storylines in. However, several old friends do turn up in it, as well as a bunch of new characters I hope you’ll love as much as I do.”

“Paige [experiences the messiest-most-intense emotion in TBS4]. She goes through the emotional wringer in this one.”

“The second ‘arc’ has the same main characters and the same antagonist. The difference has more to do with the setting, the scope of the narrative, and the type of battle being fought against Scion. You’ll have a better idea of what I mean when you read the end of TBS4.”

“This book puts both [Paige and Warden] through the emotional wringer, but there are lighter parts as well.” “Nick meets an old friend while he’s in Sweden and Paige and Warden will be staying in central Paris, on Rue Gît-le-Cœur. You can see some of the locations from Book 4 here: [x]”

“TBS4 is basically just a long Hurt/Comfort piece with occasional and reluctant splashes of Action/Adventure”

“THE MASK FALLING leans a little more Adult than the other BONE SEASON books. The whole series is officially classified as Adult, but the first three aren't far off YA in terms of sexual content, violence etc. THE MASK FALLING is . . . maybe a tiny bit sexier.”

“Doing my final reread of THE MASK FALLING and naturally I've noticed a recurring phrase that I have used no less than thirty times in the manuscript.”

“It blows the world of The Bone Season right open. It’s where everything changes. It takes place in a brand-new setting and forms the bridge between the two ‘arcs’ of the series. I hope the ending will show readers get why I really do need seven instalments to tell this story.”

“Books 1-4 is what I call the “Scion arc”, but Scion is still a threat in Books 5-7. Book 4 is kind of in the middle, with more of a focus on Rephaim than there currently is in Book 3.”

“He’s in Book 4, he’s French, he’s voyant, and I’m writing his introduction scene now. I think I love him?”

“The draft is about 140 000 words long – a little shorter than The Mime Order – with a veritable tonne of action, espionage, international politics, eerie catacombs, old enemies, new friends, and messy, intense emotions packed into that word count.” 

“This one combines my favourite elements of The Bone Season (Warden and Paige chats), The Mime Order (syndicate weirdness) and The Song Rising (heists and angst)”

“The fourth Bone Season book is well underway, and things are about to take a very dark turn for Paige.”

“It’s mostly focused on Paris, but you’ll find out bits and pieces about what’s happening in both England and Europe.”

“She’s suffering from PTSD and aquaphobia following her water torture in The Song Rising, so she’s pretty much in the ringer for the whole book. There are a few light moments, but she’s under a lot of stress from the start.”

“While I wouldn't call it spy fiction, TBS4 is delving into espionage territory as Warden and Paige, still exhausted from their tremendous efforts against Scion in The Song Rising, attempt to navigate the convoluted political and criminal networks of Scion Paris.”

“Book 4 is a touch more political, laced with subterfuge”

Lists:

Things you’ll see:

The carrières of Paris

A masquerade (ofc)

A mysterious character you haven’t seen in a long while

Arcturus Mesarthim saying ‘hm’ about 18 times

Five words:

Revelations

Politics

Water

Heartache

War

Three adjectives:

Macabre

Emotional

Seismic

There is a lot of:

Warden and Paige

Rain

Classy interior decor

Angst

New characters include:

A spy so fashionable and icy cool I’m unsure of how a nerd like me created her

A tall, irritable Frenchman with a bit of a God complex

A terrifying new Rephaite with an uncomfortably sexy voice

It has:

A Parisian underworld 

A demisexual MC 

A masquerade ball 

Catacombs 

Forbidden, angst-stricken desire 

Verbal consent 

Acknowledgement of periods 

I can promise:

Parisian buildings TOURISTS LOVE. Notre-Dame? It's there, there's a masquerade INSIDE IT. Sainte-Chapelle? Oui. Versailles? Naturally. The Eiffel Tower? Oh, we're climbing it 

Getting DOWN and DIRTY. (By which I mean literally, down, into the catacombs.)

People who arrive in Paris SPEAKING FRENCH because they have been given a job for which they have the correct SKILLSET *bangs table* 

No crêpes (#OhCrepe), but CHAUSSONS AUX POMMES 

ROOFTOP PICNIC 

Not everyone is STRAIGHT 

Chic OUTFITS, all quite filthy by the end

Locations: 

The beautiful Sainte-Chapelle, my favourite place on Earth. 

Rue Gît-le-Cœur, a major location in the book and previously home to the Beat Hotel.

The famous doorway in the Paris Catacombs. The inscription translates to 'Stop! This is the Empire of Death.' 

Rue Montmartre, where we may or may not encounter an old face. 

Preview in gifs:

Originally posted by cinemagraphs

Originally posted by queeniegoldtsein

Originally posted by cumlelerinruhu

Snippets:

Out-of-context chapter title: Chapter 3: Gloomy Coffee

Part names*: 

1. To Pay Thee Free

2. Turn the Anchor

3. Eurydice

Quotes:

“What the fuck is that?” she whispered to me. “Looks like a frozen rainbow.”

“The horizon was as red as if the fire still burned. I watched the sunrise from the roof. Fog breathed into every nook and alcove of Paris, laced over the dark crests of the river, blanched the skin to the pink of salmon. I was sure the air was still spiced with the tang of smoke.”

“So,” he said, “we are choosing larceny.” “Always so surprised when his criminal friend commits crimes.”

“I wouldn’t usually care who you’re riding at any given time”

“I sensed all of this was very important, but I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about”

“I picked up the floundering ribbons of my dignity and started over”

“His home was in decay, and mine lay in the shadow of the anchor. Scion had made wanderers of us.”

Current opening line (circa Dec 18, 2018): “The sun had been climbing over the cliffs when our ship had pared away from Dover.”

“Someone who had heard of me and whose first response had not been to try to kill me. What a treat.”

“A hollow ache stretched out within me. It started in the chambers of my heart, in a place that reached eternally for Ireland.”

“‘I promised you we would stay together,’ he said. ‘In the absence of other options, I will follow your lead on this matter.’”

“‘I’m fine.’ ‘Your attempt to mask the darkness under your eyes serves as compelling evidence of that. As does the full bowl of coffee.’ I cocked my head. ‘Did you just master sarcasm?’ ‘Paige.’ ‘It’s a cup of coffee. With… no handle.’”

“‘There’s no fireplace,’ I stated. ‘No.’ ‘But how are you-‘ A wild laugh was bubbling up. ‘How are you going to cope without one?’ ‘Cope,’ Warden repeated.  ‘You need one. To stare into, pensively. Did you know,’ I said to him, ‘that you do that a lot?’ He tilted his head, which only set off a fit of silent laughter. My ribs ached in protest.”

��I mustered all the breath I had left and screamed, until I folded on myself and my voice burned to nothing.’

‘Who can break you now, Black Moth, now there is nothing left to break?’

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 3: 2,689 Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler’s words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision’s mind.

Chapter 3: it’s a beautiful new day

Edwin hates hospital waiting rooms.

He has a huge respect for the hospitals themselves, of course. It’s the actual experience of sitting in the waiting room that sends a chill down his spine.

It’s not the first time he’s been in this position; stuck in a chair with worry crushing him. Although Mr Stark prefers to call his private doctor when he falls ill, and Edwin also occasionally uses his services, Ana much prefers to physically visit the doctor. She says that it makes her feel like they’re an ordinary couple in the life they don’t have. And Edwin respects her decision.

What he doesn’t tell her is that each time he is asked to wait outside, he is transported back to that horrifying night in 1947. His whole body is shaking. The world around him is all too loud but also alarmingly quiet. His mind is completely overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. Ana is in surgery with a terrible wound, possibly on the brink of death, and he is just sitting outside in the hospital waiting room, utterly helpless. The only thing on his mind is that it’s all his fault.

Then Miss Carter is by his side, offering much-needed wordless support.

But this early morning, he is desperately trying to convince himself that Ana is perfectly fine. She has simply gone inside the room to offer support to Mrs Stark. He can hear her unusually loud voice trying to overpower Maria’s agonised screams as she calls out for Howard, despite him being on the other side of the world.

It pains him to think that this is typical of him.

“Mr Jarvis!”

The familiar click of heels alerts him to Ms Carter’s arrival. She, like all of them, looks appropriately dishevelled as she rushes towards him. “How is she? How’s it going?”

Extremely grateful to her for pulling him out of his dark thoughts in a waiting room for a second time, Edwin gestures for her to take the seat beside him. There is a sense of déjà vu.

He takes a moment to listen out for Maria’s screams, which seem to have subsided.

“I believe it’s going well.” He responds. “Ana’s inside with her now, and this is the first time it’s been quiet since we arrived. I can only think of two options as to what that could mean.”

Ms Carter lets out a strained chuckle. “Since when have you been such a pessimist, Mr Jarvis?”

Since Ana was shot and lost the ability to bear children.

She seems to read his mind and her face falls quite suddenly. She is wise to not address this though, and she decides to change the subject instead.

“Have they thought of any names yet?”

Another welcome distraction. “Maria’s quite insistent on either Antonio or Isabella, depending on the gender. They got into an argument when Mr Stark wanted the name to be American.”

“Where is Howard, anyway?”

Edwin isn’t quite sure why his chest tightens. It almost feels like anger or hatred, but not quite. More like… disappointment. “He’s currently in Amsterdam trying to settle a trade deal.”

The expression on Peggy’s face perfectly reflects his own thoughts on the matter. She scoffs. “Oh, typical Howard.”

There is a strange kindred spirit shared between himself and Ms Carter, which is odd considering that their personalities could not be more different. She is everything he isn’t; strong-willed, professional, courageous, and incredibly intelligent. She could stop a global threat in the time that it takes him to plan a dinner party. She would much rather spend an evening engaging herself decoding classified secrets whereas he would watch some television with his wife.

And yet, despite their obvious differences, they completely understood one another. Peggy often needs a break from S.H.I.E.L.D. and her busy lifestyle, which is why the Jarvis household is open to her at all times should she need it. It’s also why she comes for dinner each Sunday evening without fail. And if he is ever feeling under the weather or is having any manner of internal struggle, she picks up on it just as quickly as Ana does and checks in on him an embarrassingly large number of times until she’s convinced that he’s feeling better. Ana once described the pair as two sides of the same coin.

Edwin feels blessed to have possibly the two best women in the entire world in his life.

He is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by Ana rushing out of Maria’s room.

Both he and Ms Carter immediately stand up. “Is she alright?” They ask simultaneously.

Ana’s hair has come loose and her eyes betray her weariness, but they are also filled with joy. “She’s fine.” She announces with a wide smile. “It’s a beautiful baby boy.”

Peggy exhales loudly with relief, and she begins to mirror Ana’s smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful! May we go inside?”

Ana falters for a brief moment. “Ah, I will have to ask Mrs Stark. I did not know you were coming, so I will ask her.” She turns to her husband. “She is asking for you, Edwin, so you can come.”

There is silence until Peggy turns to him. “Mr Jarvis?”

Edwin is frozen. It feels as if the world has stopped spinning. Mrs Stark has just had a son. A boy. A son. A child. And she is fine, and he is fine, and she’s just had a son. A brand new life.

Ana grabs his arm and starts to pull him towards the door, and only then does he snap back to reality and feels himself breathe again. As they wait for the pack of nurses to finish leaving the room, Edwin bends down to whisper into his wife’s ear the one word that has suddenly branded itself into his mind.

“Anthony.”

When they are finally let into the room, his whole body melts. All the exhaustion, anger, and sadness from last night is washed away at the sight of the little bundle in Maria’s arms. Ana senses his awe and entwines her hand with his as she leads him closer to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” He breathes.

Maria is almost unrecognisable in this state. Her hair is the messiest he’s ever seen, and she is drenched in sweat. In any other circumstance she would be furious and desperately attempt to fix herself up. But right now, she has the warmest smile on her face.

“Tired, Mr Jarvis.” She answers, her voice slurred with exhaustion and her Italian accent shining through.

She looks down at the baby in her arms, and his own eyes follow. There is a tiny mop of dark hair visible over the blanket, but he can’t see much else very clearly.

Maria seems to notice his gaze. “Do you want to hold him?”

Yes, he does want to hold him. He wants to hold him and cradle him in his arms and talk to him and cuddle him and raise him.

But he can’t seem to get the words out. Ana answers for him. “Yes, he does.”

The second that Maria hands him the child, Edwin feels warmth rush into his body. The child is awake but not crying, and he knows he will do everything in his power to keep it that way. Distantly, he hears Ana ask Maria if Ms Carter can enter, before she also instructs her to sleep. He is too busy gently rocking the child to hear the precise words spoken.

“Hello there,” he whispers, a tear rolling down his cheek, “welcome to the world, little one. You are going to grow up and be strong, smart, kind, beautiful…”

His list goes on, and he is unaware of how sadly both Ana and Peggy are looking at him.

~-.-~

Mr Stark leaps out of the car before Edwin finishes parking.

He can’t blame him. He is about to meet his son for the first time, albeit a day late, so of course he’d be in a hurry.

Edwin locks the car and rushes to follow Howard.

On the journey from the airport, Mr Stark had done nothing but chatter about this that and the other. Anecdotes from his trip, celebrity scandals, new groundbreaking ideas. He managed to talk about every topic apart from his wife and son.

An outsider may think that he was being heartless, but Edwin knows Howard well enough to know that the genius was beyond nervous and his family was actually the only thing on his mind.

Once he nears Maria’s room, he can hear the sound of raised voices coming from inside. His heart sinks. He had been positive that Mr Stark would be happy upon seeing his son but, although he cannot hear the exact words being said, it sounds like something has upset him.

Bracing himself for the worst, he lightly knocks before entering.

“I promise you Howard, that’s what I said- Edwin!”

“Edwin!”

Edwin is not at all frightened by the way both Howard and Maria’s heads instantly snap towards him as they call him by his first name. Not in the slightest. It is perfectly reasonable for them to do so and is not unusual at all.

He recovers from this initial shock to note that little baby Anthony is in his father’s arms. This immediately fills him with relief as whatever the couple were arguing about didn’t seem to involve the newborn.

With that option eliminated, his curiosity begins to grow. “Is everything alright?” He asks.

Maria sinks further into her pillow and Howard hangs his head, bringing Anthony closer to his chest. It is a concerning visual, even more concerning when Mrs Stark looks back to her husband, ignoring his question entirely.

“And you’re sure it’s too late?”

Wearily raising his head, Howard answers. “I did most of the paperwork over there. The announcement’s been made- it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Edwin inquires, dread pooling into his stomach. He sincerely hopes that whatever the situation is isn’t too bad.

The pair turn to acknowledge him for the first time since their initial outburst. Both of their faces seem… guilty?

Howard shuffles towards him, being very mindful of the baby in his arms. “So you know Anthony’s name, right?”

Edwin nods nervously.

“Well, there’s been a mix up.” Howard continues, his face sheepish.

“An accident.” Maria interjects. “I was exhausted, my accent was thicker than normal, and they misheard me.”

This only makes Edwin all the more worried.

Without warning, Anthony begins to wail, and Edwin instinctively holds his arms out for Mr Stark to pass the child to him. He starts to cradle him to shush him.

Howard rubs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. “Anthony Edward Stark was supposed to be Anthony Edwin Stark.”

And if human nature hadn’t prevented him from doing so, Edwin would have dropped the baby.

He must have heard incorrectly. “P-Pardon?”

It is Maria who answers him, her expression apologetic. “We discussed this a while ago. Because we know that you and your wife can’t… have children,” Edwin bites his lip to try and prevent the tears from forming in his eyes, “and you both have been nothing but kind to us, we wanted to name our child after you. His middle name was supposed to be Edwin if he was a boy, and Ana if he was a girl.”

“But I fucked that up, too.” Mr Stark adds, but Maria just tuts at him.

“Language, Howard. We have a son now. The nurse misheard, and there is nothing we can do about it now.”

“‘Course, sorry.” Howard apologises. Then he lets out a small, pathetic laugh and a wide smile begins to grow on his face. He takes Anthony from Edwin’s arms and stares at him with an amount of adoration that is uncharacteristic for the great Howard Stark.

The same Howard Stark whose bottom lip began to tremble. Whose eyes begin to shimmer with tears. Who struggles to keep his voice even as he leans down to plant a tender kiss on his son’s forehead.

“You...” he whispers, “are hands down the best thing I have ever created, little man. You’re beautiful. God, I love you.” He turns to Edwin again, pride radiating off his face as he holds the child in front of him. “Look at my son, Jarvis! Look at him! I have a son!”

Edwin, who has been trembling all this time, matches the adoration on his employer’s face as he nods in response to the command. His mind, however, is elsewhere.

They were going to name him Edwin. The Edward mishap does not bother him in the slightest as it is the thought that counts but… they were going to name their son Edwin.

And standing there, even in front of Anthony Edward Stark’s parents, Edwin feels like a father.

~-.-~

“Shush now Anthony, your Mama will be here soon once she’s finished her very important meeting, alright? Please, shush now.”

Anthony has been wailing for the past ten minutes. And, for the past nine minutes, Edwin has been trying to calm him down. The only problem is that the only thing that will currently soothe him is Edwin’s own tie, which he very much needs and is not willing to part with. Ana made him that one.

“Awamaaaaa! Mamaaaaa!”

The ten-month old pulls himself up so that he is just-about standing in his crib with one chubby arm sticking out, trying to reach him. He has just learnt to stand, and although it makes him happy each time he accomplishes it, the fact that he has started to stand in defiance is the bane of Edwin’s existence.

With a weary sigh, he turns back from where he was about to leave and slowly crouches down so that his eyes level with Anthony’s.

“Anthony darling, your Mama will be here soon.”

“Awamamaa!”

‘Mama’ is Anthony’s first and only word, one that he’s learnt only recently. One of the maids had first heard the little boy chanting it, and had hurried to get Edwin. Edwin then commanded her to go and fetch Maria and Howard. Maria had come rushing in, but Howard had claimed to be busy.

His heart shattering at the sound of the boy’s cries, Edwin tries again. “I promise Mama’s coming.”

Anthony’s screams take on a sudden increase in volume that causes Edwin to wince.

“Waaaaaaaaah! Awamamaja! Awajaja!”

Now Edwin is by no means a young man anymore, and he convinces himself that whatever he thought he just heard was simply a trick of his imagination. Nothing more. He definitely did not just try and call out his-

“Jaja! Jaja!”

Paired with the wide brown eyes staring up at him and the arm outstretched trying to grab his tie, this time the child’s intent was unmistakable.

In his shock, Edwin says the only thing he can think of. “S-Say that again?”

“Jaja!”

“Are you trying to say… ‘Jarvis’?”

“Jaja!”

“Oh my goodness!”

Although the ‘J’ syllable wasn’t quite as clipped as it should be (sounding more like a ‘sh’) it was recognisable enough. And to say Edwin feels emotional at the fact that Anthony said his name would be an understatement.

In this time Anthony had stopped crying and instead is looking at him expectantly, as if he knew exactly what effect his words would have on him and is waiting for his reward. Edwin takes off his tie and hands it to the boy without a second thought.

He has to tell Ana. There is no time to lose. He has to bring Ana and try and get Anthony to say it again as proof that his second 'word' was a variation of 'Jarvis'.

(He feels like he shouldn’t tell Maria, and especially not Howard. ‘Dada’ is supposed to come after ‘Mama’, not the name of the family butler. This moment would be his and Ana’s private treasure- something he would confide in Anthony when the boy grew up.)

(If the boy still liked him by that time, of course.)

(Edwin hopes he will.)

[rainandhotchocolate]

Coffee and Books

A/N it’s day TWO FOLKS - this is a coffee shop au kind of thing, super fluffy, literally just fluff. and fluff. anyway enjoy the fluff xx

Sirius watched as Y/N heaved the large packaged box through the front door of Grub Street Books as he absentmindedly washed a large glass over and over again in his hands.

“Stop staring you freak,” James elbowed him, grinning as Sirius had to stumble forwards to avoid breaking the glass in his hands.

“I wasn’t staring,” He grumbled, giving another quick glance out the window and across to where Y/N had been standing. She was gone. Sirius looked away quickly, trying to look busy stacking up the rest of the glasses on top of the coffee machine before the 6am rush. James was babbling behind him about his latest attempt to get one of their regulars, Lily, a pretty redhead who ordered 3 shots of coffee and sat working on her computer furiously for hours on end. He nodded along slowly, ducking under the counter to grab more glasses.

“Uh hello?”

A voice came from above the counter, making Sirius jump and bang his head on the shelf.

“Oh hi, hello, oh hey!” Sirius brushed his hair out of his face, surprised to see Y/N standing in front of him, smiling expectantly.

They both spoke simultaneously.

“You’re not usually in this early.”

“Could I grab a strong three-quarter latte?”

“Oh sorry, of course, I normally prepare regulars orders in advance so it will just take a few minutes.” Sirius backtracked, feeling his cheeks flush as he spoke over her again.

“Oh, we are trialling opening earlier to get people walking to work,” Y/N laughed loudly, a throaty sound that made her whole-body shake. Sirius had a pang in his chest as he heard it and struggled to not lean on his forearm and watch her.

“Ok so mornings don’t suit either of us then,” Y/N breathed out a final laugh, smiling brightly at him. Sirius was desperately trying to calm his heart doing acrobatics in his chest.

“Yeah,” He smiled back at her, “You’d think I’d be much better since I do this every day.”

“Perhaps you need some coffee,” She winked and moved to the other side of the counter where patrons usually waited for food. Sirius went to reply but instead opened and closed his mouth before moving towards the coffee machine, cursing internally. James sniggered from behind him as he poured out a double shot and tried to ignore him.

“Oh, shut up, you can’t get a date to save your life,” He hissed in response, but instead of putting James out, his grin grew wider.

“Just you wait, you’ll be at our wedding,” James replied, pushing Sirius forwards and towards where Y/N was walking, “Talk to her.”

“What do I say?”

“Anything!”

“Did you get your haircut?” Sirius called towards Y/N who had turned around to wave goodbye and stopped clumsily to hear him.

“Oh,” She reached out and felt the edge of her hair, “Yeah, I put some colour in it.”

“It’s…nice.”

“Thanks, it was due for a change,” She smiled at him, still twirling her finger through her hair, “uh, so see you.”

“Yeah,” Sirius waved at her, turning to face the counter and putting his head directly onto it.

“That was not smooth,” Sirius raised his head to see Lily standing in front of him, a smirk playing on her lips as she pulled off her large winter coat.

“Shut up, Miss workaholic, I’m yet to see you make conversation with any potential dates,” Sirius glared at her, placing a glass underneath the coffee machine where James had begun making her order but became periodically distracted with her dark green, figure hugging sweater.

“You have yet to see me outside this café, I do well enough thanks,” Lily winked at Sirius, taking the glass of triple expresso and taking her regular spot at the counter. At first, Sirius had wondered why she bothered sitting at the counter when she seemed to seethe at James’ general existence and constant attempts to ask her out on a date, but he’d soon seen the soft smiles she gave when James wasn’t looking, mostly when the next door neighbours kids came in and he gave them all babycinos with different little pictures in the milk and chatted with them as they stared up at him with awe.

“She is right, that was awful.”

“Yeah thanks mate, that definitely needed to be said,” Sirius grumbled, turning on his hospitality smile, the one that always got him extra tips, and facing the queue of early morning customers who had begun to trek into the café, leaving a trail of wet snow and rain at the entrance.

The day was a long one, it always seemed to get significantly busier when the holidays began, customers wanting a warm drink and to stare at the cold weather from the large glass windows. Sirius was happy for the distraction, wanting to completely forget he ever spoke to Y/N like an absolute prat and focus on the regulars instead. Lily stayed later than usual, still tapping away loudly at her computer when James and Sirius had begun closing up, James humming jingle bells (which had been blasting through the speakers all afternoon) as he mopped the floors.

“I’ve seen you with other customers,” Lily said suddenly, not looking up at Sirius. Sirius had semi-forgotten she was there as he cleaned out the coffee machine and turned to her in surprise.

“What?”

“I’ve seen you chatting to other customers, girls who come through, you could flirt the panties off an old lady.”

“Did I ever tell you how charming you are?” Sirius rolled his eyes, deflecting her insinuation. He knew he was a bit of a flirt; it was something he’d learnt from his parents. Dress well, compliment something specific, plaster a shit-eating grin on your face, and people will trust you. It was automatic at this point, having worked in hospitality for the last 5 years it was ingrained into his system, and as much as he’d rather not thank is parents for anything, it had definitely gotten him a few good nights.

Lily sighed at him, finally closing her laptop and leaning over the counter. Her bright green eyes were a little mesmerising as she glared up at him. Sirius had the sudden thought that perhaps James made her mad just to see this look.

“You get at least one phone number a day, and you can’t even have a fucking conversation with this girl? What’s the deal?”

Sirius continued cleaning the coffee machine, ignoring her continued stare and irritating silence. He groaned, putting down the large bottle of detergent.

“I actually like her, ok? Its like my whole body shuts down when she’s around and I become this… blithering idiot of a human being.”

Lily suddenly broke into a huge smile. Sirius gave her a suspicious look.

“What…”

“Sirius is in love!” Lily cried, her smile somehow getting wider, eyes twinkling up at him. The noise caught the attention of James who was still humming the same three lines of jingle bells. He skipped up to the counter, leaning against it and looking similarly up at Sirius.

“I’m sorry, do repeat that for me, would you?” James put his hands under his chin and crooked his head. Sirius wanted to swipe out a hand and make his hands fall out from underneath him.

“This little immature boy is in love!” Lily said again, without a hint of sarcasm towards James, still grinning. It took James a second to realise that she wasn’t making a snipe at him.

“I -uh, oh!” James’ eyes flickered between Lily and Sirius, hiding his confusion terribly. Lily ignored him regardless, beginning to pack her things back into her large tote bag.

“Just talk to her, pick a subject to ask her about or something, it’s sad seeing you so… well desperate,” Lily gave him a slightly apologetic look before standing up, “Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

James watched her as she walked out of the café, already on her phone.

“Ok, she’s in love with me,” James lifted his arms up, fists clenched, a look of triumph plastered on his face.

“She was nice to you one time, and that’s your conclusion?”

“You’ve got to have hope, my poor lost in love friend,” James patted his shoulder sagely. Sirius twisted around and pushed him off playfully.

“I’ll kill you,” Sirius grabbed his oversized trench coat and gloves, starting to turn off all the lights as James followed suit.

“You couldn’t live without me,” James made kissing noises, dodging out of the way as Sirius swung towards his ribs.

They locked up and began walking towards their apartment three streets over. The wind was howling now, making the trees lined up across the street sway dangerously over the power lines. Sirius pulled his coat tighter around him, forcing himself to keep looking forwards instead of flicking his eyes back to see if the light was still on in Y/N’s store. I wonder if she is by herself-

“You’ve got the keys, mate,” James nudged him, looking expectantly at the front door they were now standing in front of, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts.

“Right, right,” He replied absent-mindedly, pulling out the large set of keys he kept on hand and finding the right one to bring them into the warmth of their home. They’d lived together ever since school finished, even though James’ parents lived two suburbs over in a huge terrace house near Hyde Park. Whilst James was one of the messiest people Sirius’ had ever come across, and possibly had no idea how to cook anything other than omelettes and stir-fry’s, they’d yet to get into a proper argument that wasn’t just about Sirius distracting James when they were playing FIFA. Which is likely why Sirius’ cranky mood sparked James’ interest.

“What is wrong,” He elongated each vowel, trailing after Sirius who had thrown his coat across the couch and began thumping his way into his bedroom, “Is it just about this girl? What’s her name, Y/N? You really weren’t that bad this morning.”

“Can you just, please, leave me alone for a minute,” Sirius kept his voice calm, not wanting James to start prodding him with his bony fingers.

“Alright, alright,” He put his hands up in defeat, “I’m ordering Indian if you want some.”

Sirius grunted a yes, kicking off his boots outside his room and laying face forward on the bed. Idiot idiot idiot.

Y/N had started working at the shop next door a nearly a year ago now, replacing the previous manager who had come into Sirius & James’ café every morning and complained that their service was too slow. She’d come in and introduced herself, and Sirius dropped a whole tray of saltshakers across the floor. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that made him so nervous. Maybe it was way her smile took over her whole face, crinkling her nose and making her eyes close-up slightly and her dimples show. Or the parade of brightly coloured coats she seemed to own that seemed to both clash and go with what she was wearing all at once. Or when he’d asked her about her favourite books and her eyes lit up like a child and her voice got louder and louder when she spoke about her favourite characters. Or perhaps it was because she was god damned pretty.

Sirius groaned into his pillow as James called out that food had arrived, joining him on the couch in silence. After a moment, James turned to face Sirius, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do you… do you think that Lily actually likes me… just like, as a person?” James said earnestly.

“I…” Sirius was thrown a little of guard, a spoonful of dahl still in his mouth. He swallowed quickly, “I mean, yeah, I think so. I think she just doesn’t really like when you act like a twat around her.”

“Mm,” James turned back to his food, looking pensive. Sirius thumbed the spoon he was holding a little awkwardly.

“You just need to stop harassing her, act like a normal human being. She always watches you with other customers, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, I’m not going to make shit up to make you feel better,” Sirius gave him a smile, shoving him slightly.

“Y/N watches you too you know. When you’re making her coffee, she basically can’t take her eyes off you.”

“Mm,” Sirius kept his face neutral but could feel his heart rate spiking.

“Anyway, want to play FIFA?”

The next morning snow had begun to fall heavily, wind banging against the windows of James and Sirius’ apartment. James was huddled around a bowl of hot porridge as Sirius came into the kitchen to grab some breakfast before they made their way to the café.

“Are people even going to come today, it’s so bloody cold,” James groaned, watching the snow fall outside the window.

“You know it will be stupidly busy,” Sirius muttered, rubbing his eyes. He felt like he’d barely slept, going over what he could have said, should have said, to Y/N. James groaned again, leaning back into their large brown armchair.

The snow had become slush, and made what was normally a 5-minute walk, 15. Reaching the corner of the street Sirius noticed a small figure huddled out the front of the café, wrapped in a large deep red coat, head dipped to avoid the wind. When the figure noticed the two boys, they looked up, giving them a warm smile and making Sirius want to melt into the pavement once he realised it was Y/N.

“Hey!” She called out, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off her shoulders. James pushed Sirius in front of him as they reached the front door.

“Uh, hey! What are you doing here? I mean, not in a bad way, it’s great that you’re here, but like it’s cold a-“Sirius shut up with another kick from James.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been locked out,” she grimaced, dancing on the spot a little to keep warm as James unlocked the door. Sirius had the urge to wrap his arms around her. James pushed the door open and let her in with a smile, turning into a go and fucking talk to her glare when Sirius reached the doorway.

“What happened?” Sirius gave James a scowl in response and followed Y/N into the café.

“The lovely owner decided to change all the locks last night. She said there would be a spare key in the letterbox but there is nothing,” Y/N huffed, pulling off her coat and gloves, rubbing her hands together to warm them up, “I’m so glad you guys are here early, I have to wait for her to come in and knowing her it will be at least another hour.”

“You’re lucky it’s snowing out, we normally leave a lot later,” James grinned at her, pushing Sirius over from the coffee machine so that he could make her coffee and force Sirius into talking instead.

“That’s why I’m here early too, anticipated falling over at least 4 times on the way over,” Y/N turned her smile on Sirius, her y/e/c eyes gazing into his.

“So, you, uh, live near here as well then?”

“Yeah! Just around the corner, moved closer when I got the job. Where do you live?”

“About three blocks away, with James.”

“Oh wow, what’s it like working and living together?” Y/N laughed, and Sirius’ stomach jolted.

“Haven’t killed him yet, so not awful,” Sirius grinned back at her, leaning against the counter.

“I just moved into a place by myself, I’m still not sure if I like having no roommates or not, but at least I’m not cleaning every fucking afternoon,” She shook her head, turning her smile on James as he handed her the mug of coffee.

“You’re telling me! This one doesn’t know how to do his own laundry,” Sirius pointed at James who looked affronted.

“What! How old are you? How can you not know how to do laundry!” Y/N’s smile grew wider as they fell into easy conversation about James’ lack of ability to function without his family.

A loud alarm went off on Sirius’ phone, making both Sirius and Y/N jump.

“Oh shit, we need to open shop,” Sirius swore, rushing to grab the coffee from the storeroom as James finished setting up each table and swung around the open sign.

Lily was the first through the door, grumbling about being stuck in the cold for an extra 2 minutes than she’d planned this morning. She stopped short when she saw Y/N sitting on the counter, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Hello there,” Lily dropped her bag next to Y/N and held out a hand, “I’m Lily.”

“Oh, Y/N. Are you a regular here?” Y/N glanced at Sirius who had stared on Lily’s order and nodded.

“You could say that, so you’re the Y/N who works across the road yes? At the bookstore?”

“Uh, yes,” Y/N breathed out a laugh, “Have you been in before?”

“Once or twice,” Lily gave Sirius a mischievous smile, ignoring his eyes flashing at her.

Sirius went to interrupt them but a line had formed behind the counter and the first customer had begun tapping obnoxiously on the linoleum floors.

“Sorry, been a bit of a mess this morning, what can I get for you?”

The morning rush, as Sirius predicted, was worse than usual, with many people using their café as an excuse to get out of the cold for a few minutes. Sirius watched out of the corner of his eye Y/N and Lily continue to chat, giggling to each other every few minutes. He felt sick, what was she telling her.

Finally, the crowd eased, and Sirius turned back to where Y/N and Lily had been sitting to find some excuse to steal Y/N away, but she was gone. He stared at the spot momentarily, Lily having already pulled out her laptop and was tapping away aggressively, before he heard a small cough in front of him.

“Sirius?” Y/N had pulled on her coat and was standing in front of him.

“Oh hey, I thought you’d left-“But Y/N interrupted before Sirius could embarrass himself further.

“Lily was telling me that you were having trouble finding a new book to read, you should come by after work, I’ll grab you some new books,” Y/N smiled brightly, grabbing her coat and waving goodbye to James.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds good,” Sirius beamed, waving her off into the snow. His heart was in his throat. What just happened?

“Success!” Lily looked over her laptop, having obviously just eaves dropped on their entire conversation, grinning at him.

“What did you do?”

“Exactly what she said, that you were looking for a good read,” Lily shrugged, “It’s really not that hard when she’s so clearly into you.”

Sirius scowled at her but couldn’t help feeling a slightly bit grateful for her intervention.

“Also, where’s James today? He hasn’t annoyed me once, I was worried he might have died,” Lily returned to her laptop, but Sirius was sure he didn’t miss the flush that hit her cheeks.

“Oh, he’s around, perhaps he’s realised you’re not interested,” Sirius winked at her.

The rest of the day seemed to drag, each minute to 6pm ticking along so slowly Sirius swore that the clocks had stopped multiple times throughout the day. Finally, the last customer had left, and Sirius had begun biting his nails whilst he wiped the counter down again.

“Oh my god, go Sirius, before you go insane,” James grabbed the towel from his hands and swapped it with his trenchcoat, “Come on.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius swatted him away, pulling on the coat, pausing when he reached the door, “Are you sure you can close down everything by yourself?”

“Stop stalling you freak, go.”

Sirius gave him a grimace as James gave him the finger and indicated for him to leave again. Wrapping the Trenchcoat around himself he stepped into the bracing wind, watching carefully for cars before running across the road to Grub Street Books. The lights were still on, but Y/N had turned the open sign around to deter any customers. He knocked on the door, feeling supremely awkward about knocking on the door of a store, watching as Y/N looked up from what she was reading and smiled, bounding down from the sales desk to meet him.

“You came!” She ushered him in, closing the door quickly to keep out the cold.

“Well you know, can’t turn down free books,” Sirius breathed out a laugh watching her move back to the desk.

“Who said they were free?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I just presumed, I – “

“I’m kidding,” Y/N laughed, and Sirius felt himself let go of the breath he was holding. Get a grip, Black.

“Sorry, I’m a bit all over the place today,” He met her at the desk, “So what books can you recommend me?”

“Well I might need a bit of help on your end, given there’s about 20 billion books out there. What are you into?”

“Thrillers, mostly. A bit of sci-fi?” Sirius pulled a hand through his hair, enjoying watching Y/N’s eyes trail his hands before meeting his.

“Ok, I can work with that, give me a second,” She slipped away towards the bookshelves, humming something Sirius couldn’t quite make out. Sirius leaned against the counter, trying to avoid biting his nails. The store was small, but in a quaint way that felt like you could sit in the corner and read for hours without realising it. Sirius had only been in a few times, given that the previous manager was a dick, and his working hours usually overlapped, but he noticed that Y/N had put up a couple of large posters of classic rock bands along the walls.

“So, there’s three I can think of right now that I reckon, you’ll like,” Y/N came out of the shadows holding three, very large books.

“Three is plenty, I’m a very slow reader,” Sirius grinned as she came and displayed them in front of him, standing by his side. Sirius couldn’t help but wonder how easy it would be to just slip his hand on the small of her back, or into her fingers. He could feel her body heat radiating into his shoulder, her hair inches away from his.

“Well I’ve read this one,” She pointed to the largest, a book called Dune with a sunset colour across the front cover, “it is quite long because it’s like multiple books in one? But definitely worth the read.”

She turned to gauge his reaction, her face suddenly inches from his. Sirius swallowed hard, desperately trying to avoid glancing down at her perfectly shaped, soft pink lips…

“Uh, yeah… that one sounds… good,” Sirius breathed out slowly, still watching her closely. Y/N hadn’t moved either, keeping her eyes latched on his. Fuck it.

He leaned slightly closer, his heartbeat getting louder and louder in his chest as he breathed in the smell of her shampoo and watched her inch close to him as well. His hand crept around her hips and pulled her in suddenly, pressing his lips softly against hers. She leaned into him, placing her arms around his neck as they moved slowly together.

Sirius pulled away first, feeling exceedingly giddy, looking down at her with a goofy smile.

“I was sort of hoping you would do that,” She breathed out, smiling up at him as well.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I was worried I’d have to get out the mistletoe,” Y/N smirked, still leaning in close to his chest.

“I actually have something else I wanted to ask you,” Sirius murmured, loving the feeling of her stomach pressed up against him, his arms around her waist.

“Is that so?”

“Did you want to get dinner sometime?”

“No.”

“Oh, I- “

“Not some time, what about tonight,” Y/N bit her lip, still smirking at him.

“Give me a heart attack why don’t you,” Sirius closed his eyes, shaking his head at her as he barked out a laugh.

“So, you free?”

“As a bird.”

“You definitely need to read more if that’s what you’re going with,” Y/N laughed again, a little nervously. Sirius wanted to revel in it, the slight hitch in her breathing as she looked up at him.

“You’re probably right.” Sirius wasn’t smiling now, but watching her, standing in front of him.

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just… very beautiful.”

Y/N flushed a bright red.

“Well that’s a bit better,” She ducked her head, but Sirius lifted up again with his hand and leaned in to kiss her once more.

“So, dinner?” He said softer now, his forehead leaning against hers.

“Dinner.”

Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom

Advent taglist: @maraudersandco @gollyderek

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Two - Remember Me

AN: Y’all we made it!! I’m so excited to share this one with you guys and to see what our talented fandom has done! Here is my contribution to day two! It’s all kinds of sappy, soft, sweet, sad (peep the title) and just emotional in general, and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Again, thank you @spideychelleweek for making this all possible!

Prompt: Meet the Family

Here is some 2.9k odd of fluff and hurt/comfort! 

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“Listen, I know you’re a huge nerd and everything, but..." Michelle’s voice holds a teasing, slightly judgmental edge as she struggles to hold three DVDs in one hand, hastily catching one as it falls out of her grasp. “Do you really need more than one copy of The Force Awakens?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter starts, defensively holding one finger up, “One of those is Ned’s.”

MJ blinks slowly.

“Second of all, May bought me one as a random gift after I’d already pre-ordered it, and I couldn’t just… you know, give it back,” He reasons. “So, yeah. To answer your question: I do need three different copies.” Peter turns his attention back to organizing the box of various electronics hastily thrown together by past-Peter.

MJ still seems less than impressed with that explanation. “Okay. Why?”

“Well,” Peter shrugs, mouth pulling into a slight frown. “What if I lose one?”

When she doesn’t respond, Peter glances up, not surprised to find her staring blankly at him, her expression as impassive as it’s ever been.

He relents, letting her toss one of the three into the “give away” bin before promising to give the second back to Ned.

MJ, out of the kindness of her own heart— or out of boredom, either one— has been helping Peter, in her own words, “get his shit together,” for most of the afternoon. Too many times has she tripped over a stray book, his backpack, a hoodie or even a lone pair of boxers on the floor of his bedroom; times where she’s been unable to find the spare iPhone charger through all the spare papers, pens, and God knows what else in that mess he calls a “stuff drawer.”

Now, none of this is to say that Peter is the messiest person in the world, per se. He can be a relatively tidy person when he needs to be; his room is never littered with trash or the general grossness that comes with some teenage bedrooms.

But...

The cluttered state of Peter’s room is often a reflection of his own mind.

Which is why Michelle is there.

Plus, she’d seen one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo one day when she was home sick from school, and with her room already pretty damn organized-- if she could say so herself-- she has to have some kind of outlet.

So, in a way, they’re really helping each other.

“Oh, hey,” Peter’s voice cuts through her internal monologue, his attention drawn to an ancient— by today’s standards, at least— video camera at the bottom of his second ‘random tech’ box. “Uncle Ben’s camera!”

For a moment, MJ’s ready to go into full-on Comfort Peter in the Best Way She Can Mode at the mere mention of his late Uncle, and she’s trying to decide whether she should do a full or half-hug when his fond, distant smile stops her.

“Wow, really?” She inquires cautiously, craning her neck slightly to get a better look at the artifact. “What’s on it?”

Again, Peter shrugs, flipping the screen open as he examines the device. “I dunno. Old home movies. Probably embarrassing videos of me.”

And he immediately regrets that last part, not having to see the cheshire grin that stretches across her features and the playful quirk of her brow to know that they’re there.

His shoulders sag as he rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You don’t wanna watch any, do you?”

“Um, of course I do.” Her brows furrow as she glances side-to-side. “Are you kidding?”

“It’s not even charged, though.”

“So charge it.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“Okay, fine,” Peter gives in, though he seems to be far from annoyed, searching for the charging cable near the bottom of the tangle of wires.

MJ cracks another smile at him before continuing to sort through his DVD collection.

--

The old camera feels strange in Peter’s hand, heavier than today’s technology, screen casting a faint blue light as it turns on for what may be the first time in a decade. He’s surprised they’ve even been able to charge it, judging by how old this thing is.

MJ sits on the bed beside him, head resting against his, watching as he navigates the almost laughably ancient menu, an audible, very dated beep-click sounding at every push of a button.

Neither of them know what to expect as Peter clicks “play” on the first video.

The screen flickers slightly, the lens focusing on what they assume to be the old dining room. A man and a woman are setting the table, chuckling quietly to themselves as they joke with one another. They continue to chat idly as they place the plates and cups down, the context of the conversation lost.

They’re at first only vaguely recognizable to MJ, but the feeling is fleeting, the realization almost instantly dawning on her when she sees the mop of curly brown hair and dark eyes on the man, the cheery smile on the woman’s face.

Richard and Mary Parker.

The date at the bottom of the screen reads: August 4th, 2005, 6:07 PM

Her eyes pass a quick glance to the boy next to her, gauging his reaction. There’s a faint, barely-there grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he watches his parents interact, neither of them paying any attention to the person filming.

“I wanna help!” A tiny voice sounds from behind the camera, and the view shifts quickly, showing a much younger Peter bounding into the room, napkins in his tiny hands.

Mary turns, beaming as she talks to her son, crouching down to show him how to fold the napkins.

MJ feels herself mirroring the expression on his mother’s face.

Peter is still silent beside her, and she can only wonder how he’s truly feeling as they both watch. While she has certainly experienced loss in her near seventeen years of being on this earth, she’s never gone through the pain of losing a parent, much less two biological and one emotional.

“My mom and dad,” Peter finally speaks, as if introducing them to her, his voice quiet.

Under normal circumstances, she might tease him for pulling a Captain Obvious, but she refrains.

She hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s crazy…” He starts, eyes never straying from the screen. “I— I don’t really remember much of them, you know? They… Well, they died when I was really little, so I didn’t really get a chance to make very many memories with them, and everything I did remember I kinda forgot. But—” He pauses, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Hearing their voices… Even though it’s not really something I actually remember… It’s almost like… like it all comes back. Like, it’s so clear, you know?”

It’s said that the the voice is usually the first to go, the first thing one forgets about someone else after they’ve gone. And the more she thinks about it, the more MJ realizes just how true it is. She remembers, very specifically, the last time she heard her grandfather’s voice, but it had been so long since then. In that moment, right then and there, she can just barely recall it in her memory.

She knows, however, that if she were to hear it in a recording— or in this case, a home video— she’d remember once again.

Memories are funny like that, she guesses.

“Yeah,” she nods, gently knocking his shoulder with hers. “I get it.”

The video goes on, with the cameraman— who Michelle can only assume at this point to be Uncle Ben— having moved to the kitchen.

A younger Aunt May stands in the room, poring over a recipe on the counter. “Damn, May,” MJ jokes appreciatively, laughing as Peter gives her a playful shove.

“Don’t even!”

The lens zooms in on May’s face, and she turns, an exasperated grin breaking across her features as she rolls her eyes. She swats at the man behind the camera with a dish towel.

“Hey, how ‘bout you put that dang thing away and make yourself useful around here!” May teases, her eyes sparkling as an immature-for-his-age giggle is heard from the cameraman.

The video ends as the screen pans down, the next playing with only a second in between.

The date reads: August 7th, 2005, 3:36 PM

“Whatcha got there, Pete?”

This time, Aunt May’s voice can be heard from behind the camera, the smile in her tone infectious as the little boy beams up at her through a mop of curly brown hair. A slightly-too-big cowboy hat sits on top of his head. He proudly holds up the pinto hobby horse, jumping with excitement.

“It’s a horsey!”

Aunt May oo’s and aw’s. “What’s the horsey’s name?”

Little Peter pats the neck of the toy with semi-gentle, reverent hands. “Shunshine!”

“Shunshine?” MJ asks incredulously, doing absolutely nothing to hide the snort that had escaped.

MJ can hardly blame the kid though; she’s pushing seventeen and she still has trouble with consonant digraphs every once in a while.

“Hey!” Peter laughs along with her, though there was no stopping the red tint that settled over his features. “It’s a great name!”

“Very creative.”

“Shut up.”

Their joined laughter fades as the next few videos play, falling into a comfortable silence as the old Parker living room shows up on the screen. Red and blue streamers adorn the walls, dozens of balloons in the same shades touch the ceiling, a comically large Happy Birthday! is strewn across the banister.

The date reads: August 10th, 2005, 4:14 PM

The camera circles the room, showing off the decorations, before finally landing on the birthday boy himself.

“What’s your name, sir?”

A new voice full of mirth and humor asks from behind the lens; his father.

Young Peter looks up, a toothy grin stretched across his chubby face. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” he answers, emphasizing each word with a firm nod.

“And how old are you today?” His mother asks, tone laced with hushed excitement.

The boy smiles again, eyes wide, holding up four fingers.

“Four years old!” Both of his parents gasp-cheer.

August 10th, 2005, 5:23 PM

The birthday cake is simple; funfetti with chocolate frosting and red and blue sprinkles, a giant “four” candle placed in the center. Peter wiggles in his chair, eyes wide with wonder as he watches his mother light the wick.

“Are you ready, Peter?” She asks him, and he nods happily.

Happy Birthday is sung as it should be; full of enthusiasm, each singer being in a different key by the end of the song, cheers filling the room as the candle is blown out.

His mother plants a loving kiss on top of his head before smoothing down his unruly curls.

August 10th, 2005, 6:16 PM

The lens briefly goes in and out of focus, showing young Peter as he sits among torn wrapping paper and discarded boxes, his mouth stretched into a toothy smile as he looks at his presents. He jumps up, running around the room to give everyone an enthusiastic hug, thanking them over and over again for the toys.

August 10th, 2005, 7:02 PM

“Happy Birthday, Pete!” His family cheers in a happy chorus.

Peter responds with an excited, “Thank you!”

Aunt May briefly glances up, flashing a smile at her husband behind the camera, before looking back at the young boy in her lap. Her arms surround him in a loose, but loving embrace.

“Did you have a good day?” May asks.

Peter’s answer is an excited nod, followed by an appreciative hum.

Though the snippets of this past life are brief, they’re still able to elicit a familiar warmth from within present day Peter, and he huffs out a quiet chuckle at the way his younger self babbles on and on about how cool his brand new cowboy boots are.

And it’s infectious, as MJ feels the stirrings of the same, incandescent feeling.

The next clip starts from a whole new perspective, it seems.

Seeing as now they’re much closer to the ground, and the excited giggling coming from behind the lens, it seems as if young Peter, at some point, had gotten a hold of Ben’s camera.

August 12th, 2005, 5:50 PM

The view is shaky as the little boy darts throughout the apartment, pausing every few feet to film one of his relatives— though he only gets their legs in the shot; he’s only just pushing 3’1”, after all.

“Whatcha doin’, Pete?”

A new voice can be heard as a pair of work boots come to a stop in front of the boy, one they hadn’t heard yet.

Michelle can feel Peter freeze at the sound, and she glances at him through the corner of her eye; his gaze is still trained on the small screen, his smile tightening.

Uncle Ben himself crouches down, his tall body barely fitting into the frame, the top of his head partially cut off. A broad smile is stretched across his kind face, green eyes looking over the lens and at the boy holding the recorder.

“Filming,” young Peter says simply.

“I can see that! Got anything good yet?”

The camera moves as the boy nods proudly. “Uh-huh. Just like you!”

“Just like me?”

“Yeah! Are you proud?” Though the word comes out more, “poud.”

“Of course,” Ben chuckles gently, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, eyes crinkling as his smile widens. “I’ll always be proud of you, bud.”

The video pauses, the screen frozen on the happy scene.

Present-day Peter hasn’t relaxed, his lips pressing together into a thin line, releasing a weighted breath as his thumb hovers over the play button.

MJ’s stomach churns with a new sense of guilt. “We don’t have to watch anymore… if you don’t want to.”

He nods quietly, slowly closing the screen, gripping the camera in his hands, knuckles nearly turning white at the pressure. Michelle sits, arms folding across her chest as she faces the internal struggle of what to say next, still unable to shake the unease festering in her gut.

“It’s just—” Peter starts, his voice cutting off. He sniffs again, glancing away as he preemptively wipes at the corner of his eye. “Hearing him again… his voice… seeing him actually talk...” He shakes his head. “It just— It got to me, I guess…” He trails off, his gaze still trained on the wall in front of them.

MJ places a hand on top of his, watching his face as he continues to speak.

“And I thought I was… good now? I don’t know. I mean,” he swallows, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I know that you never really forget them, that you never really move on… And everyone always tells you that it’ll get easier but it doesn’t... But, I guess I just thought that I was actually doing better. That it really had gotten easier. Maybe I was the exception... I stopped thinking about him every second… I had some voicemails— that he’d left me, before he… you know… but I’d never listened to them, I guess… because I was too afraid. Of what? I don’t know...”

She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Like, I know that it makes sense that I don’t really remember what my parents sound like, their voices. ‘Cause, you know, I didn’t get the chance to. But I never—” His voice is caught in his throat, the shakiness making it harder and harder to speak. He finally turns to look at her, bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes clouded with tears.

“I never thought I’d forget his.”

At that, without a second thought, she opens her arms, and he falls into them easily. She wraps him in a warm embrace, his face burrowing under her chin. He doesn’t weep, tears falling silently instead as she rubs soothing circles on his back.

And she doesn’t know how long she holds him like that, how long they sit there. No words are exchanged between them, though none are really needed.

“Sorry… For making you watch that,” MJ’s voice is nearly inaudible as she mumbles into his hair. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“No, uh—” This time, he shakes his head, the quiet sniffle between words not going unnoticed. “No. No, it’s okay,” he reassures her, finally pulling back, though he still stays in her arms. “It’s actually really nice… seeing my parents. Seeing Ben. I’m not gonna say that it’s like they never left... But it’s like they’re still with me, he’s still with me, in a way.” His lips quirk into a sad smile, his hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes again. “And… I’m glad you got to see them.”

Michelle finds herself easily returning his bittersweet expression.

While she’d never had the chance to meet his parents, from the short clips she saw, she could tell that they loved each other and that they truly loved their son. She’d also never properly met Uncle Ben, only seeing him in passing as he’d pick up Peter from middle school, or come to decathlon meets in their Freshman year. It wasn’t much, only snippets of their actual lives, but even the smallest glimpse made her feel closer to Peter, to his family.

It was a feeling she’d treasure for years to come.

Perhaps in a more emotionally stable state, she’d make fun of herself for being so cliche, so dramatic. But at this point, right in this moment, she didn’t care.

Her lips press together into a small, faint smile as she takes his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad I got to see them, too.”

[miscelunaaa]

give yourself a try | myg | teaser

pairing: yoongi x plus-sized female reader

genre: colleagues to lovers, angst, smut, mutual pining, coffee shop au

summary: You’ve got an enormous crush on Yoongi, the machine tech, and, if Jimin is to be believed, the feeling is mutual. A broken espresso machine and a snow storm are all it takes to bring everything crashing down around you. Can you put it all back together yourself? Or will you need some help?

rating: 18+ for complete work

word count: 20k+ (still in edits! this will be released as a two shot!)

teaser wc: around 1.3k :)

warnings for completed fic: frequent POV changes. reader is insecure about her body and has a lot of internalized fatphobia. depictions and conversation about mental health and insecurity. panic attacks. conversations about angsty back story that includes medical issues, infertility, and break-ups. sexual content including but not limited to: making out in public, soft dom yoongi, oral sex, unprotected penetrative sex with other birth control in place, creampie. be sure to read the complete warnings before each part!

warnings for teaser: swearing, content is lightly edited and subject to change in the final posting

notes: What a labor of love this story has been to write. Everything is kind of a dumpster fire right now and I’ve been processing some shit over the past few months, and that’s when this story happened. It was supposed to be a 6k romp in a coffee shop with lots of crack, messy public sex, and abundant health code violations!!! And something happened and now it’s a 20k soft and feelingsy angst fic??? And like maybe the second best smut scene I’ve ever written?? There’s so much I want to talk about with this fic, but I want to let it speak for itself when the time comes. It’s nerve wracking; I’ve never written anything like this before. This is also the first time I’ve written an overtly plus-sized reader, so I hope I’ve done her justice. Drop me a comment or an ask if you’d like to be on the tag list for this! Part 1 will be coming next week!

Oh!! Last thing! The title comes from a song by The 1975. They’re one of my favorite acts of all time; they sit on a shelf inside my heart, right next to BTS and Sufjan Stevens. Enjoy!

— — — — — — —

It’s already been one of those days. The holidays are always a fucking mess; busy, messy, and stressful as hell. The stretch between Christmas and New Years is the messiest of all. Your customers were typically harried, your own personal lives probably stretched thin. Equipment breaking was just whipped cream on the seasonal latte. One of the heads on the machine kept overheating, even after you tried letting off heat from the boiler by running the steam wand and the grouphead. None of it worked, it just kept getting hotter and hotter.

“Y/N,” Jimin turns his head, speaking over his shoulder, “We’ve got a problem.”

You blink at him, glancing over his shoulder as he gives the pressure dial on the machine a tap.

“Huh,” you frown as you hand the customer in front of you his change, directing him to the pick up counter. No one left in line. That’s good. You walk over, pointed the steam wand out, and flip the lever to run it. The gauge’s little arm doesn’t move, staying stubbornly in the red. At least it had stopped rising.

“I’ll make the call, use the other head for now. There are two boilers in that thing, I think. I’ll be right back.”

You step into the back storage room, pull your phone from your back pocket, and call your boss. You already know what he’s going to tell you, but you always made sure to talk to him first. Mostly because you want to make sure he knows what a pain in the ass this fucking machine was, despite his insistence that it’s top of the line.

The line rings and rings, and that fucker just won’t pick up the other line. It’s a pity he pays so well despite being the most absent boss you’d ever worked for. It means you can’t completely hate his guts.

You hang up the call and pop him a quick text:

::: machine seems to have a boiler issue, i’m calling the tech.

boss::: 👍

You roll your eyes. Fucker can’t answer a phone call but can send an emoji. Figures.

You poke your head out of the back room to make sure Jimin is holding his own before making the call. There’s a lull, he’s already finished his drink queue and is leaning against a counter, detail cleaning a portafilter. God, you could have kissed him right then and there just for that. With a little smile playing on your lips, you duck back into the back and search for the barista tech’s phone number, and press call.

It only rings twice before he picks up: “Yoongi Min speaking.”

Ugh, his voice is like melted chocolate, or a freshly made ganache. Dark. Velvety. Rich. You just want to dip your finger in it and suck.

“Hi Yoongi, this is Y/N from KnockBox.”

“Ah, I thought it might be you. I’ll make sure I actually save your number this time. I almost didn’t pick up.”

Weird, he answered after two rings. Almost didn’t pick up your ass. “I don’t blame you for not saving it. The hope would be that I don’t have to call you this often.”

“Mm,” he grunts, “And yet, here we are. What’s the machine doing this time?”

“Boiler issue I think, it’s heating up and staying in the red. Won’t go down after letting steam run, nor the grouphead.”

“Hm.” Yoongi is silent on the other end of the line for a moment. “Don’t use it, but don’t turn it off yet. You’ve got the double boiler machine right?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye on both of them. These machines often have faulty switches that don’t trip when they overheat. I can recalibrate them but there’s enough wires and shit that I can’t talk you through it.” He pauses again, and then continues with a sigh. “I can be there in two hours. I know that’s not ideal because you close in an hour …” His voice is low enough that it makes your skin tingle. Waiting for him is no problem; at least you get to look at him for a few minutes during the trade off.

“Yeah, but we need a functioning machine. I have no problem waiting for you.” Cruel, ironic laughter echoes in your skull.

“This time of year is a bullshit season for coffee, I get it. Maybe you could just wait around to let me in, and then lock the door so that it locks behind me when I leave? That way you don’t have to wait on me and you can go home.”

“Yeah, I think we did that last time.”

“Alright, cool, see you then, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. See you in a couple of hours.”

The line disconnects, and you sit with your head in your hands for a moment before heading back out to the front. Fuck. He was so attractive you can hardly stand it.

“How was the dreamboat?” Jimin asks, trying to play it as cool as he can. His lip quirks when you throw him a look; he knows exactly how attractive you find the machine tech your boss contracts out, and he will never let you live it down.

“He must be out at another job. He can’t be here for another two hours.” You said the words as plainly as you could, not trying to give your coworker the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

“Fuck, seriously?” Jimin pushed himself off the counter and placed the portafilter on the machine’s drip tray. “You want me to stay? I don’t have class tonight.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I think it’s supposed to snow,” you say, casually. Like hell if you were going to miss seeing the man who’d haunted your dreams since you’d first had to call him. “I’ll just let him in, then leave.”

“Or, hear me out, you could fuck him in the back and then let him work on the machine and leave.”

“Ugh, Jimin, next to the mop bucket? That’s fucking disgusting.”

“And so is this crush you’ve had on him for the past few months! It’s so obvious even the babies have started to talk about it. Jungkook has plotting about how to get you two together since he caught you staring at Yoongi’s dump truck ass!”

“He’s what??” Jungkook is one of the student baristas, typically an opener because most of his classes are in the afternoon.

“He and Sarah AND Mercedes! Shit, Mercedes is about ready to put the moves on him just so you suck up your feelings and make your move to stop her.” All three of your little baby baristas are traitors?! Since when?

“Those little punks, I’m going to make them scrub the back splash bricks with a toothbrush.”

“That’s an empty threat and you know it. You’d rather do it yourself.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. You thought you’d been stone cold about this crush, that you’d been nothing but professional and courteous. Instead you’d gotten caught by four of your five coworkers. How had they even known you were staring? You were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible by doing cleaning tasks!

“Does everyone know about this, Jimin? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Yes. Literally everyone knows. Even regulars. The cute little old guy who brings in his newspaper every morning? He’s asked me about it, and how could I lie to him? So he knows.”

“God, Jimin, I get it, everyone knows.”

“Seokjin, that hot dilfy lawyer? He knows. He ships the shit out of y’all.”

“I’m going to end every single one of you.”

“He says that when y’all get married he’ll give you a discount on your wills and powers of attorney.”

You groan, “You’re all dead to me.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if a guy like Seokjin can see it happening, anything can happen. You know how jaded that guy is about relationships. He wouldn’t just say something like that.” Jimin’s voice is almost serious now, he’s speaking more earnestly in spite of your obvious irritation.

“Oh please, Yoongi only knows I exist because of all the times I’ve had to annoy him with maintenance calls.”

— — — — — — —

thank you for reading! drop me an ask and tell me what you think. find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. my work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. thank you.

posted: 2.16.2022

[dawnover-dusk]

like water, like air (breathe)

like water, like air (breathe)

summary: all you know is that every time you surface, you inevitably sink again. but jeonghan is like air, and you’re afraid that once he leaves, you won’t survive in water anymore.  

resident psychiatrist jeonghan x resident internist reader

At every step, you felt like you were drowning. After four years, you thought that you could finally break through the currents and let air fill your starved lungs, but relief, like it always was, was temporary. One month later, the waves magnified and crashed over you again, and you could barely remember what it felt like to be able to breathe.

So when you introduced yourself to the senior residents on your new team, you had to stifle a gasp at the picturesque man who occupied the seat next to yours, his hand outstretched with a lazy grin. He wore a billowy button-down shirt with red and white pinstripes tucked into black slacks, the top button undone to expose the expanse of his neck and hint at defined clavicles.

“Jeonghan,” he stated, platinum blonde hair framing his hooded eyes. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” you muttered, your hand grasping his delicately. You busied yourself with grabbing your list from the printer and trying to clear your mind of unnecessary thoughts, most of which were surrounding your fellow intern lazily running his long fingers over his own patient list.

“Just to warn you,” Seungcheol, your senior resident, began, “the attending on service is a bit of a hardass. Really nitpicky, so be thorough when presenting admissions.” He had swiveled around in his chair to address the two of you, and you could see the faint dark circles outlining his otherwise warm eyes. He glanced at you for a moment before breaking out into a gummy smile, “Don’t look so worried, though. This dude graduated a month ago so he’s only been an attending for like, two seconds. We’ve got your back.”

Jihoon, the other senior resident, ceased his endless typing to let out a grunt. “I’ve seen him make interns cry. It’s so unnecessary,” he gruffly agreed.

“That’s not very impressive,” you shrugged. “Scrub techs made me cry in medical school, it’s not really a feat.”

Jihoon had resumed typing in his orders, but you could see him raise an eyebrow. “You know, it’s not very common to just blatantly admit your weaknesses to people when you first meet them.”

“We’re only together for a month,” you smiled. “I thought we could speed up the ‘getting to know each other’ process.” You could hear Jeonghan’s tinkling laughter beside you, and you turned to face your computer to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks from the sound.

However, you couldn’t ignore the sky blue post-it that made its way to your keyboard. You glanced at your neighbor out of the corner of your eye, but Jeonghan was diligently writing down lab values, his lips ever so slightly parted.

Shua made me promise to look out for his “crybaby,” but he didn’t tell me that you were so pretty :) I always keep my promises, so don’t worry!

You snatched the post-it, along with your list, and with a quick “I’m going to pre-round now bye!” you were out the door, missing the upward curl of Jeonghan’s lips.

---

me [7:01 AM]: JOSHUA HONG me [7:01 AM]: how dare u gossip about me to our peers me [7:02 AM]: it’s so embarrassing me [7:02 AM]: also why is ur friend flirting with me

joshuji [7:05 AM]: can you, like, not??? i was trying to use the interpreting service and your texts kept buzzing my phone joshuji [7:05 AM]: don’t you have patients to see too

me [7:05 AM]: sending image

joshuji [7:07 AM]: big yike joshuji [7:07 AM]: this is so out of character for him? he was actually really shy and nervous in medical school. idk maybe you are pretty go get it ;)

me [8:00 AM]: i was so horrified that i did not regain the ability to type until now. get what, exactly? me [8:00 AM]: also i know that i’m not your type but MAYBE?? me [8:01 AM]: rude. i retroactively retract all my “you look so nice today” statements

joshuji [8:03 AM]: fine. you’re pretty for a crybaby joshuji [8:03 AM]: lunch in the lounge at 1?

me [8:05 AM]: ofc. my few constants in life – complaining in the lounge and getting sassed by you. wouldn’t miss it

---

You would be impressed that you had lasted a whole week if you weren’t busy trying to disguise the familiar stinging set behind your eyes. The workroom felt stuffier than usual, with the addition of two eager medical students in the corner and the attending in the center, his unrelenting gaze on you. After fumbling with finding what the initial vital signs in the ED were and when the last albuterol dose was given, your panic had risen to the point where your mind was wiped clean. And of course, that was when he had asked you to give a differential diagnosis.

You were never so grateful for the hierarchy established than you were at that moment. Seungkwan and Chan did well in filling in different etiologies for respiratory distress, and you made a note to give them positive feedback at the end of the day. However, it was your turn to give the leading diagnosis, and Seungcheol and Jihoon glaring daggers at the attending’s back did little to ease your anxiety.

You felt a light touch at your elbow and a pen clatter to the floor beside you. Jeonghan leaned over and whispered, the sound disguised as a cough as he swooped down to pick up the pen. Fighting off the embarrassment, you held onto this shred of information that Jeonghan had slipped you like a buoy, only letting out a deep exhale when the attending nodded in satisfaction and left to see the patients.

“Excuse me,” you whispered as you stood up, hurriedly opening and slamming the door to the workroom behind your retreating figure. You escaped to the nearby call room, empty and dark in the day time, and tried to catch your breath on one of the threadbare mattresses.

Seungcheol gave an imperceptible nod to Jeonghan as he also stood up. “Well, I’m going to grab coffee, anyone want anything?”

Jihoon called out, “A coke, please,” before his deep voice grumbled at the students to go write their notes. Seungkwan and Chan immediately turned to their own computers to avoid Jihoon’s indifferent stare, while Seungcheol rolled his eyes and complimented them on their presentations.

In the call room, you heard a light knock before a series of electronic beeps on the door’s keypad. The handle turned softly and you turned your head to see Jeonghan’s silhouette bathed by the fluorescent lights of the hallway. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him, the room again falling back into the darkness.

You kept your face in your hands as you hastily tried to wipe away your tears. The mattress dipped beside you as Jeonghan sat down, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice uneven. You tried to take a breath, but you ended up shuddering instead. “This is so embarrassing. This has happened to me so many times, but I still don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I can’t get over it—”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Jeonghan interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what people always say, that you’ll get used to it, but I don’t think it’s something that you should get used to. I’ve only worked with you for a week but you’re so smart, and kind, and your patients love you. Even the med students like you, they’re always clamoring over themselves to impress you.”

You let out a chuckle at the memory of Seungkwan and Chan both trying to get you to review their notes as Jeonghan sat in his corner, pretend-glaring at Chan.

“Can I hug you?” Jeonghan asked, and you nodded. You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders as he pulled you against him, hands rubbing circles on your back. You could hear the steady beating of his heart and the faint smell of his cologne, and it surprised you how comfortable you felt wrapped in the warmth of his body.

“Thank you, Hannie,” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his waist to give a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Hannie?” he asked, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

“Oh, sorry, Joshua always calls you that—”

“No, I like it when you call me that,” he mumbled, his eyes lighting up despite the darkness of the room. “It totally beats the ‘Yoon Jeonghan (Intern)’ that you have me saved as in your phone.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed, pushing him lightly before getting up. “As if you don’t have me saved as the same thing.”

“No, you’re ‘Pretty Crybaby’ with a bottle emoji next to it.”

You stared at him, horrified, and hit his shoulder. “You have to change it!”

“Only if you change me to ‘Hannie”, he grinned, his pinky outstretched. You rolled your eyes and linked your pinky with his.

That night, you dreamed of the deep, open sea, but rays of light broke through the water like slender fingers guiding you towards the surface.

---

“I’ve missed you,” Jeonghan pouted, handing you a can of coffee from the refrigerator. You finished gathering your hair up into the messiest of ponytails and grabbed the can, smiling reflexively when your fingertips lingered on his. You stood in front of him in old scrubs and sneakers, devoid of makeup and tired, and you marveled at how he could still flirt with you.

“You won’t be saying that after our 24-hour shift together this weekend,” you pointed out.

“It’ll be like a sleepover, I’m so excited,” he deadpanned, and you both laughed at his tone of voice. “But really, handling the kids on my own is so tiresome.”

“You basically adopted Chan on the third day.”

“Okay, handling Seungkwan on my own is so tiresome.”

The two students bounded through the door of the lounge, as if on cue. They left their backpacks in the corner and beamed at you as you handed them printed lists. 

“Time for sign-out, Dr. Boo, Dr. Lee,” you grinned, ruffling Seungkwan and Chan’s hair. “Pay attention, Dr. Yoon,” you giggled, ducking down to avoid Jeonghan’s hand aimed at your head.

---

kwan [3:10 PM]: when will they let us leave?? I need to study kwan [3:12 PM]: and it’s so boring with only jeonghan to bother kwan [3:12 PM]: he just leans back in his chair like this is his house kwan [3:13 PM]: and I’m still offended by what he said about me being tiresome

chan [3:15 PM]: I’m literally right next to you? chan [3:15 PM]: We can always pull the ‘Is there anything else I can help with before I go” card chan [3:16 PM]: more importantly, did you also hear about them having a 24 hour shift together? chan [3:16 PM]: I ship it

kwan [3:17 PM]: omg I know I wonder if there are any workplace rules or w/e kwan [3:18 PM]: but then again jeonghan has already been v flirty kwan [3:18 PM]: maybe I’ll put that in his evaluation. “I admire his ability to shoot his shots”

chan [3:20 PM]: #rolemodel #inspo

---

The weekend came, and with it, the rain. Water pelted against glass windows in sheets as the low rumble of thunder echoed throughout the city. You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress with your laptop balanced on your knees, the rest of your belongings shoved in the corner where the bed met the wall. You heard the familiar beeping of the keypad, and like a week prior, Jeonghan stood in the doorway.

He gave you a quick “hi” before collapsing onto the other bed across from you, folding his arms across his stomach.

“Rough night?” you asked sympathetically, rummaging around in your bag for a snack to share.

“I don’t know what it is about the rain that makes everyone in this hospital so crazy,” you heard Jeonghan mutter under his breath. He rolled onto his side to face you and you placed a small box of banana milk next to him. He took it gratefully and poked the straw through the top, letting out a contented sigh.

“Let’s get some rest before they wake us up about that guy in room 5102 not peeing again,” you said, placing your laptop to the side and getting up to turn off the light. You heard an incoherent mumble in response. Shaking your head, you smiled and felt for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed, covering it carefully over Jeonghan’s form and moving the box of milk to the nightstand. Before you could turn back to your own bed, you felt a hand in yours and a brush of lips across your knuckles.

It was whisper, almost lost against the hum of the air conditioning. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

This time, you dream of floating, your body weightless as you stared up at the blue sky above you.

---

It’s almost the end of your month with Jeonghan when it finally hits you.

“Joshua, I’m screwed,” you groan, your hand dropping your fork back into your salad bowl. Joshua scoffs across from you, taking a bite of his pasta and swallowing before waving his own fork in your direction.

“What are you talking about? You’ve been doing super well on the team, from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s who you’ve heard this stuff from that’s the problem, Joshua,” you sigh. “I’m too old to have crushes.”

Joshua gasped dramatically, and snickered when you shot a glare at him across the table. “Sometimes, you’re really dense. You’re literally all that Hannie talks about. Well, you and your med student, Chan.”

“But we only have one more week together, and then what?” you ask glumly, poking at the wilting leaves.

Joshua reached his hand to still your movements. “Hey, you’re talking like you’re never going to see him again after this block. We still make time for each other, and I’m sure you two can, if you want to.”

“But you guys are also technically psychiatry residents,” you stated, moving your hand from under Joshua’s grasp. “You’re not going to be around after this year.” You could feel the tightness behind your nose, the quickening beat of your heart, and the uncomfortable lurch in your stomach as reality soaked through you, dripping wet and cold.

You would be on a different team in a week.

Joshua and Jeonghan would be gone in a few months.

The crisp air that filled your greedy lungs would be replaced by the burn of seawater again and again, the tide a relentless onslaught every time your head broke through the surface. You had learned how to breathe again through hooded eyes and lazy smiles and faint cologne, through a shock of platinum blonde hair and a lilting voice.

But this time, you didn’t know how you would fare when you went under again.

“Why do you think that we won’t see each other anymore?” Joshua asked quietly. In the back of your mind, you knew that he was slipping into his psychiatry persona, trying to get you to talk about your worries and fears. And as much as you knew that it would feel better to talk about it, and as much as you trusted Joshua, you couldn’t explain it.

You couldn’t tell him that you ended up having no one in your third year of medical school, the friendly waves in the hallway turning to tense, unsaid competition between your classmates for good evaluations and honors.

You couldn’t tell him that with every team that you’ve been on during your intern year, you end up dispersing on the last day, going separate ways despite the physical and emotional investment spent caring for patients and for each other.

You couldn’t tell him that he was just a fluke, an anomaly in your track history of brief, intense connections that characterized your entire career thus far.

You couldn’t tell him that everyone always left.

And you had learned to survive with water in your lungs, but Jeonghan tasted like air, clean and proper and euphoric.

What you said, instead, was, “I’m scared.”

It was truth enough.

---

han [7:35 PM]: I’m so excited about tomorrow han [7:36 PM]: last day~ but maybe we can finally go on a proper date

shua [7:37 PM]: bro, you need to have an honest conversation with her shua [7:37 PM]: she thinks you’re just never going to speak again after tomorrow shua [7:38 PM]: well, she thinks we’re all not going to speak to her after our intern year ends because we’re in different programs, but that’s a whole other thing shua [7:39 PM]: there is a lot of catastrophizing

han [7:40 PM]: I’ll appreciate it if you didn’t psychoanalyze my future s/o han [7:41 PM]: I mean, you’re right, but still

shua [7:42 PM]: aren’t you getting ahead of yourself there buddy

han [7:45 PM]: no. I’ve been an absolute angel

shua [7:45 PM]: I already regret setting you up shua [7:46 PM]: what did my sweet crybaby do to deserve this

---

“Hannie?” you answered tentatively, brows furrowing in confusion when you saw your phone screen light up with his name.

“Uh, hey,” he laughed, the sound tinny and nasal. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Yeah, is something wrong?” you ask, your thoughts flashing to the conversation you had with Joshua several days ago. You could feel something akin to dread rise up in your chest, but you pushed it down.

“No, nothing bad. Do you live in the resident housing complex? I can come over.”

“Okay,” you sigh, giving him your apartment number. Twenty minutes later, you heard a knock on your door, and you let Jeonghan in.

“So,” the blonde started, settling himself on your sofa, “Joshua told me that you were…worried.”

“Joshua needs to stay out of my business,” you muttered under your breath. Jeonghan grinned and patted the space next to him, and when you sat down, his sweater-clad arm wrapped around you like it was a motion that he had perfected for years.

“I’m just going to come out and say it,” he said, his heart starting to quicken in his chest. “I was really excited about our last day together because I thought I could finally ask you out properly.”

Your eyes widen as you angled yourself towards him. “Oh, so you mean those moments in the call room weren’t dates?” you teased, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Ugh, you’re not making this any easier,” he whined, and you laughed before wrapping your hands around his wrists and gently pulling his hands away from his face. You smiled gently at him before averting your gaze, suddenly shy as your hands traveled down his wrists to rest in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Hannie,” your voice no more than a whisper. Your eyes were fixed resolutely to the floor as you spoke. “I’m just not used to people wanting to stick around, and I’m scared about what’ll happen in the future.”

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Of course I want to stick around. It’s weird, but I feel like I want to know everything about you. Like, I went into psychiatry because I was interested in how people became who they were, but these past few weeks, I just wanted to know how you became the person you are today. Someone who works hard, who feels with their entire being. Someone who I’ve grown really attracted to.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you wrapped your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his chest. “You can’t just say these things, Jeonghan,” you protested, feeling the rumble of laughter through his body.

“I can promise you that we’ll make it work. Even after tomorrow. Even after this year.”

You pulled away to look up into his brown eyes, at the curve of his nose, at his red lips pulled into a wide smile. You breathed out, “and you always keep your promises” before pulling him towards you, lips singing praises against his, wrapped up in a brown sweater and a gentle breeze whispering Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan.

---

my hannie [6:01 AM]: I’m on the shuttle to the inpatient psych center! you’re probably still asleep, sorry that I couldn’t get you breakfast :( my hannie [6:02 AM]: but just wanted to wish you luck on your first day as a !! second !! year!! can you believe it? i’m so proud of you, baby. everyone’s going to love you, but not as much as me~ my hannie [6:03 AM]: shua says good luck too! I’m going to try to take a nap, it is way too early my hannie [6:05 AM]: but also….Joshua or Jeonghan?

my baby [6:30 AM]: omg hannie of course you, you big dummy. I woke up sad bc the bed was empty and then panicked bc I forgot that I didn’t have to go to sign-out anymore my baby [6:31 AM]: good luck on your first day too! poor hannie, you have to get up so early my baby [6:32 AM]: I’ll grab takeout and then we can cuddle tonight and talk about our days?

my hannie [7:00 AM]: ah yes, my most natural state – lying down in your arms. sounds perfect my hannie [7:01 AM]: I love you so much, pretty baby

my baby [7:02 AM]: well I guess it’s an upgrade from ‘pretty crybaby’ my baby [7:02 AM]: love you too

[zutaralover94]

Secret child, run away bride/groom, sex hotline operator

So I did not get a little teary-eyed writing this. This is the secret child AU. I am working on the other two. I will make sure to tag you in both of those when I post them. Anyway, Thanks so much for these three prompts! Here we go!

Zuko picked up another box of ramen cups and all but sighed as he put it in his basket filled with similar easy make meals for one. It was just his typical once a month, late night grocery shopping trip. Things that spoiled faster he bought at the convenience store at the end of the block. He pushed the basket a little further down the aisle when a kids came running by with a quick ‘Scuse me!’.

Zuko paid the child no mind. It was normal this late at night for parents to let their kids run through the empty store. He looked back to the dark haired kid stepping up on the lowest shelf. Zuko stepped away from his basket to help the child out. “Here,” Zuko grabbed for the pickled sea prunes and placed it in the child’s hands.

The kid blinked up to him with a smile and a high pitched, “Thanks!” before running back off and down another aisle.

But Zuko didn’t move an inch.

The little girl looked like Azula but with really tanned skin. And maybe without that evil little sister glint in her golden eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back in the messiest pigtail buns. And the uniform she wore wasn’t one of the local schools. And the pickled sea prunes… That wasn’t an everyday…

Nope!

Not possible.

Zuko shook his head and walked to his cart. It was a long day already. He just needed to get home put a mac and cheese cup in the microwave and sit on the couch in his boxers. He deserved it. After the four hour long training session with new employees. Then the next four hours spent on a international conference call. And after all of that he had to play catch up on what he had missed through his training sessions and the meeting. Plus with the end of the month reports due in the morning, Zuko stayed an extra three hours.  

He pushed his cart down the next aisle and debated cereal or pop tarts. He always went for the pop tarts because again he didn’t want to have to buy milk only for it to go bad because he doesn’t have time in his morning to do a sit down meal. So poptarts-

Zuko reached out for the moving cart as the kid from the aisle earlier was now standing in the cart and grabbing at a box of cereal causing the cart to move back from under her.

“Lulu!” The mother, or who he assumed was her mother, reached out for the child. Grabbing her just in time as her and the box of cereal decided to tumble out of the cart. “Oh spirits.” The woman cradled the child into her arms and Zuko gently pushed  the cart back. “Thank yo-,”

Zuko finally looked up to fully taken in the familiar looking woman. Her hair was pulled back in a  loose ponytail, her shirt rode up on the side the child was propped on, and her jeans looked well worn. She blinked bright blue, tired eyes at Zuko.

Zuko could swear on whatever you laid in front of him now that, this, Katara with a child on her hip, was definitely the most beautiful sight he had ever taken in.

“Be careful next time, okay kid?” Zuko smiled to the little girl as she was set back in the basket and told to sit down. She did as she was told and nodded to Zuko. Katara gave a brief smile and pushed her cart away.

+++

“Mommy, who was that?”

“Huh?” Katara blinked up from where she was staring at her shaking grocery list.

“That guy had golden eyes like me!” Lulu smiled up to her mother.

“See I told you there was other people out there with golden eyes!” Katara smiled back tears and looked down at her list. She had gotten most of everything on the list and whatever was left, Sokka could come get himself.

Katara pushed the cart to the checkout area. There were only two lanes open right next to each other. Katara blew a breath of relief to not see Zuko anywhere around. She began loading up the conveyor belt with groceries and a few thing Katara forgot to pack for her and Lulu.

“She’s a cutie.”

Katara looked out of the corner of her eye to see Zuko placing his items on the conveyor belt next to hers. She bit her lip and turned to take more groceries out of her basket. Maybe if she ignored him…

“Thank you!” Lulu smiled brightly and handed Katara a bundle of tomatoes.

“You are very welcome.” Zuko gave an identical smile. Katara stacked three bags of chips on the belt. “Party?”

“Yes,” Katara was quick to answer. “Lulu hand me the deli meats.”

Lulu did as she was told, “It’s for my birthday!”

Katara and Zuko paused simultaneously. Katara took a deep breath and held it as she heard the dreaded question that was masked in a happy tone.

“And how older are you going to be?”

“Five,” Lulu wiggled slightly in the cart. “But I’m only four right now. That’s not until next week even though we are celebrating it this week with Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki.” The little girl handed the last can in the basket to Katara.

“Five years old.”

Katara cringed and prayed the cashier would checkout her items faster. She needed out of this store. It was silly for her to bring Lulu back. Sokka and Suki could have done her birthday another time. But Lulu had begged to see her brother’s large dog, who was correctly named, Bear. And when Sokka said they could stay for as long as they wanted as long as they picked up groceries, Katara quickly agreed. So Katara packed up as soon as she got off work, picked Lulu up from daycare and start her four and a half hour drive.

Katara guessed 11 p.m. was just not late enough to go grocery shopping.

“How old are you?” Lulu was leaning on the side of the cart.

“Lulu, it’s not nice to ask people questions.” Her mother gently scolded her child.

“It’s fine,” Zuko nodded. “I’ll be 28 in a few months.”

“You’re older than mommy!”

Katara grabbed Lulu out of the cart and pushed the now empty cart to the bagger. She held onto her daughter’s hand and watched the total on the screen add up with each item. Just ignore him a little longer. You can do this.

“Yeah?” Katara watched out of the corner of her eye as Zuko leaned down to Lulu’s height.

“Spirits!” Lulu gasped.

“Lulu!” Katara turned to her child.

“Mommy! Look he’s hurt!” Lulu pointed to the light pink scar down the left side of his face.

Katara did her best not to react to the scar. But Lulu was right. It was hided well under his long bangs. “Honey, it is rude to point to out things like that.”

“It’s alright,” Zuko lifted up his bangs to show off the skin. Katara raised a hand to her mouth and her daughter reached out to touch her father’s face. Katara quickly grabbed the hand in hers. Zuko looked up to her and let the bangs fall. And Katara could have sworn the whole world stopped around her.

“What happened?” Lulu brought their attention back to her.

“Lu-”

“Well when I was just a little older than you. I had a very mean dad who didn’t like me very much.” Zuko told Lulu.

“That’s so sad.” Lulu tightened her hand in Katara’s. “I didn’t know my dad. But Mommy says he was a very nice man and went to heaven because he helped all those people in the burning building. He was a firefighter.”

Zuko blinked in surprise a few times before looking up to Katara.

“165.98.”

Katara had never been so happy to hear someone else’s voice and quickly turned to the cashier to pay for the groceries. “Thank you.” she tugged on Lulu’s hand to signal they were leaving. Lulu’s ‘Bye!’ echoed around the empty store.

Katara quickly turned on the car and loaded Lulu into her carseat before turning and loading the groceries into trunk.

“A firefighter huh?”

Katara froze briefly, before nonchalantly wiping her eyes with her arm, “She asked and I told her.”

“A lie.” Zuko bit back.

“Well, I certainly didn’t think we would ever run into each other ever again.” Katara continued to pile in her groceries.

“But what about when she got older? And had other questions. Then what?” Zuko tightened his grip on the cart.

“She wouldn’t ask because you,” Katara huffed as she lifted the potatoes into the trunk as well. “Her father is dead.”

“But I’m not dead 'Tara.”

Katara slammed the truck closed and turned to Zuko, the fire he loved so much caught ablaze in her eyes. “I did what I thought was best. I wanted her to know that you were a good person but reaching out for you was like reaching past the grave. Completely unobtainable.” Katara nudged Zuko’s cart with her own so she could put it in the return.

“When was I ever 'unobtainable’?” Zuko bumped her cart right back.

“The minute you took over your dad’s business.” Katara pushed back and finally made it past Zuko.

“I thought we were okay with that?” Zuko said after she had returned to her car.

“No,” Katara opened up the driver’s door. “You saw the opportunity to move up and left no time for me or our unborn child.”

“If you would have just told me-,”

“You would have what?” Katara stepped back towards Zuko. “Huh? Tried to work less hours? Maybe get a vacation day here or there? Quit?” Katara snorted an ugly laugh.

“I-,” Zuko sighed

“So I left,” Katara crossed her arms. “Because that was the only option left.”

The two stood in the quiet of the late night. Stuck in their own thoughts.

“I don’t expect anything now that you do know.” Katara looked back into the car to see Lulu yawn and swipe on a game on her tablet. “We’ve made it this long.”

“Katara,” Zuko sigh and pushed the cart back and forth a few times. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone. She’s my daughter too.”

“You really don’t have to. I’ve been making it well without you for the past five years.” Katara looked back to Zuko and frowned. “I really should get her to Sokka’s. She needs to go to bed.”

“Right,” Zuko nodded in agreement. But they both stood there for a moment.

“Good bye, Zuko.” Katara finally said her voice breaking through the tears that had started to form again.

“Bye, ‘Tara.” Zuko whispered and began pushing his cart towards his car.

“The party is at 6 tomorrow.” Katara called out. “If you get off in time, you should swing by Sokka’s. It’s my parents old place. You remember where that is?”

“Really?” Zuko’s smile practically lit up the dark parking lot..

“She turns five and loves ducks and turtles. Her favorite color is red. Spirits, if she isn’t your child through and through.” Katara gave a wobbling smile.

“Turtles and ducks. Got it.” Zuko nodded. “Do I need to bring anything else?”

“Ha, probably a bodyguard!” Katara yelled across the parking lot.

“What-?” Zuko asked but Katara was already in her car and waving bye.

+++

“You ran into him?”

Katara nodded to Suki who sat opposite of her on the couch. A game of cards between the two of them on the center couch cushion. “And I may have invited him…” Katara bit her bottom lip and gave Suki a guilty look.

“Katara!” Suki exclaimed and looked round. “Sorry, what were you thinking?” Suki laid down three 5s on to the center and placed a 7 in the center.

“I wasn’t.” Katara shook her head and looked at her hand.

“So you invited the father to your daughter’s fifth birthday party. The daughter thinks her dad died in a fire but he’s actually coming to her birthday party.” Suki picked up more cards from the center.

“Possibly. There’s still a chance that he won’t make it.” Katara sighed as Suki set down a wild card on her straight. “Plus Lulu has no idea that Zuko is her father.”

All of Suki’s cards fell out of her hands as she gaped at Katara. “I’m sorry who did you say the father was?”

“Why do you act so surprised?” Katara down her large straight. “Then again I guess you did come into this kind of late.”

“I mean I remember you both were seriously dating. But I don’t-,” Suki began picking her cards back up. “I honestly thought she was Jet’s.”

“Agni, Jet feels like decades ago. We only dated until I couldn’t hide the fact I was pregnant.” Katara laid out a pair of 2s. “I’m glad that didn’t work out. Heard he was a leader of an air band.”

“No way,” Suki rearranged her card before placing her set of 2s down. “Do you think we could invite him too for the entertainment?”

“I swear to Yue if you call him I will demote you as Godmother to Lulu.” Katara threatened weakly.

“Just try and stop me.” Suki laughed and waited for Katara to play her hand. “So why did you invite him?”

Katara sighed and dropped her hands down into her lap. “I-,” Katara let out a long breath. “We were talking about how I don’t really need him to be here. That we are fine on our own. I don’t know.” Katara finally slumped back and over the armrest causing her back to pop in about three places.

“I think you do.” Suki finished her hand with a clap. “And you should just say it out loud while it’s just you and me here.”

Katara wrinkled her eyebrows and shook her head. No, I don’t have those feelings anymore. It’s been five years. I’ve gotten over it. I’ve gotten over him. But there was a tug in her chest that made her feel hollow. Like it knew the lie she was repeating over and over again in her head. “Nah, I really don’t think I do.”

+++

Zuko showed up a little after six jiggling the keys in his hands and looking out to Katara’s parents house.

They had a kid. She was five. She loved the color red.

I wanted her to know that you were a good person but reaching out for you was like reaching past the grave. Completely unobtainable.

Her name is Lulu. She has the beautiful tanned skin of her mother. Her dark hair like his.

I’ve been making it well without you for the past five years.

Zuko grabbed for the gift. It was his oldest memory of his mother. A small yellow duck. His mother would be overjoyed to know that he had pasted it down to his child.

“Okay, you can do this. You’re here for Ka-Lulu. You are here for Lulu. Give her the gift. Wish her a happy birthday. Good,” Zuko talked himself into finally opening the door and getting out. “Hey, it’s me. Zuko. I came to give Lulu her present. Yes. Good.” Zuko whispered to himself as he walked up the sidewalk to the house. Streamers and balloons had been tied to the banister and around the door. Zuko pressed the doorbell and a loud deep barking erupted on the other side. Zuko jumped and almost took back to the car but the door opened before he could.

“Hey. it’s me-,” Zuko started with a raise of his hand. Sokka glared at him and man five years can really buff up a dude. Zuko swallowed and held out the frilly pink sparkly birthday bag. “It’s for Lulu.”

“Well, duh it’s her birthday.” Sokka leaned against the frame of the door and looked from the present up the arm to the person holding it and back again. “What are you doing here?”

“I-uh,”

“Sokka, please.” Zuko heard Katara’s slight beg towards Sokka. Sokka opened the door for him but before he could make it over the threshold Sokka’s arm came out to stop him.

“Hurt my sister or her baby and I’ll have you buried six feet under without any traces of you being gone.” Sokka growled under his breath then switched to a smile when another girl passed through the hallway. “Suki, you remember Zuko right?”

“Vaguely.” Suki stretched out a hand and shook Zuko’s. “Welcome, you can put your presents on the table. We are all out back anyway.”

Zuko followed the couple after Sokka closed the door. He placed his gift along with the rest of them before making his way out through the sliding glass door. He was surprised to see lots of faces he knew already one or two he didn’t. There were three kids playing in a sand pit including Lulu. When she saw him, she waved but quickly went back to playing.

“You made it.” Katara gave just a small smile and gestured to a lawn chair. “We’ll have sandwiches soon. But we were waiting for Toph to get back with the cake.”

“Oh okay,” Zuko nodded and sat down in the chair next to her.

The party went on with light talk and laughter. There was a few stories that filled Zuko in from the past five years, a few he remembers himself. He found himself quickly brought back into the circle of friends. He was even invited to a BBQ happening next month. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a clear answer whether or not he would be there. This all, everything, depended on Lulu and her mother.

Zuko happily stood behind Katara and Suki as Lulu opened presents. “And this one is from Zuko.” Katara placed the pink sack in front of Lulu. Lulu looked to where he was standing before ripping out the tissue paper.

Lulu let out the loudest squeal yet as she reached into the bag. “Oh my spirits! I love him!” Lulu squeezed the yellow duck. “I am going to take him everywhere.” Lulu looked directly at Zuko with honest golden eyes.

“I’m really glad you like him.” Zuko smiled at his daughter and felt emotions he never knew pop into his chest. He coughed and excused himself to down the hallway as he felt the warmth begin to swim in his eyes.

Zuko blew out a breath and wiped at his eyes. Five years. He had missed out on five years of her life. That was time he would never get back. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a shaky breath. This could be the very last time he would ever see her again. Zuko sucked in a breath of air through his teeth as he realized he didn’t know who he was more upset about never seeing again, Lulu or Katara. “Oh fuck.” A tear slid down his face and he sniffled.

“Zuko?” Katara laid a hand on his shoulder.

Zuko turned in surprise, “I’m fine.” He opened his mouth and rubbed at his other eye when he realized that it was going to start leaking too. “I, um, I guess it’s time for me to leave. Will you, um,” Zuko cleared his throat. “Will you let her know that her dad.” Zuko swallowed and a tear leaked down the other side of his face. “That I love her very much.”

Katara looked to be struggling to hold back tears too but she nodded.

“I’m sorry, ‘Tara.” Zuko gave a weak smile. “I hope someday you will both forgive me for the last five years.” He finally gave up trying to wipe the tears out of his own eyes and focused on the ones running down Katara’s face. He swiped thumbs over Katara’s cheeks, “And all the years to come. Please forgive me.”

Katara reached up to Zuko’s wrists and tilted her head into Zuko’s left palm with a light kiss, “I’ll let her know. The truth.” Katara pulled Zuko hands away from her face. “So, um expect her to be on your doorstep saying she hates me and wants to live with you now.” Katara and Zuko both let out a light laugh.

“As long as you’re not far behind her.” Zuko leaned his forehead against Katara’s. “I’ve really missed you ‘Tara.”

“I-I’ve missed you, too.” Zuko watched tired blue eyes close before he closed his too. They stood there and listened to the party still going on in the other room. Katara and Zuko both leaning on the other for the first time in over five years.

“Ahem!” Zuko and Katara broke apart and took a step back from one another as Suki stood there with an eyebrow raised. “Be glad it was me and not Sokka.” Suki turned back to the party.

The birthday girl’s parents stood there in awkward silence for way too long of a moment.

“I hope that you come to the BBQ next month. I’ll be bringing Lulu with me.” Katara said after a deep inhale.

“I’ll make sure to put it on my calendar.” Zuko nodded and stepped to the door. “I’m going to go. I don’t want to overstay-,”

Katara quickly stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you for the gift. Ursa would be pleased that you kept it to give to her.”

“Yeah,” Zuko felt a blush creep up like he was a teenaged girl. “Bye, Katara.”

“Bye, Zuko.” Katara smiled and leaned against the door to watch the love of her life leave. But not for long. And never, ever did another five days go by without them seeing each other.

Author’s note: I was going to do this big long flash back of Uncle Iroh knowing that Katara was pregnant and sending her money each month. And in respect she was going to name her child after Lu Ten. So I went with Lulu. 

[maysheriseoncemore]

Ultimate ship meme with this dweeb? :3c

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last?- Quite a while (considering we’ve been roleplaying for a few years together) but both Sanji and Anastasia have been playing coy among their “friendship” and haven’t even entered the ‘i admit i like you stage’ to themselves let alone the other. 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Sanji, despite his declaration of affection for all women, gave her respect before true affection but it wasn’t as quickly as some assume to be while Anastasia was slow and cautious. 

How was their first kiss?- Dominant and smothering with a dash of blue lipstick.

Wedding:

Who proposed?- Despite the fact that Sanji most likely had a big proposal set, Anastasia proposed. While he might have liked if he had proposed, he was none the less thrilled! 

Who is the best man/men?- I’d imagine some of his crew, Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)?- Anastasia doesn’t have many friends that are women so she’d have a mixed party with his other crewmates including Zoro (oh Sanji hated that), Nami and Robin.

Who did the most planning?- Sanji doesn’t want to admit it but he had been planning a wedding in his mind to the future women he loved ever since he was a child. Of course there is mild changes with Anastasia’s input but he has it down pat at least…67% of the time. 

Who stressed the most?- Anastasia. Being married once before, she meets her old friend, Cold Feet. While she’d ditch the big wedding, she would drag Sanji with her with elopement. But she doesn’t. For Sanji. 

How fancy was the ceremony?- Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding?- Enemies of both the crew and Anastasia, the Navy, the Russian government–the list can go on. 

Sex:

Who is on top?- 50/50. Sanji likes to have the missionary position, feeling it intimate and seeing Anastasia’s face but Anastasia is someone who prefers to be on top. It’s quite nice to see Sanji squirming beneath her for once. 

Who is the one to instigate things?- Sanji may be the one to innocently nuzzle up to her but Anastasia is the one to turn on the teasing and take charge. 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last?- Anastasia might be a little more feisty than Sanji expected but they can last quite a while. 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms?- Of course, it almost seems like a small competition to see who can get the other to orgasm more.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? -

How many children will they adopt? -

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? -

Who is the stricter parent? -

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? -

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? -

Who is the more loved parent? -

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?

Who cried the most at graduation? -

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? -

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? Sanji does as it is his life passion and love but Anastasia does manage to cook some meals once in a while.

Who is the most picky in their food choice?- It has to be Anastasia, mostly because anything sweet and sugary are a huge ‘no’ for her.

Who does the grocery shopping?- Sanji because as much as he adores her, she should not be trusted without supervision in the alcohol aisle. 

How often do they bake desserts?- Sanji has made it his mission to make a desert that will get her non-sugar approval however he doesn’t bake as often because he knows she prefers hardy meals. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater?- Anastasia is definitely a meat lover but for Sanji, she’ll eat more salads but Sanji is a good balance of both. 

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner?- Anastasia, at least she tries to because Sanji is always right on top of anniversaries. 

Who is more likely to suggest going out?- Anastasia, mostly so that way it can give Sanji a chance to relax and take a break from cooking their meals and spend more time with her. And if she happens to trail her foot up his leg and to thigh beneath the tablecloth to see him flustered in public is just an extra bonus. 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking?- Neither but there was that one time that they were more concentrated on the other than the pot on the stovetop…

Chores:

Who cleans the room?- Despite Anastasia being the one who’s the messiest in the room, she’s also the one to clean it up mostly because she sees Sanji as the one who cooks so it’s only fair.

Who is really against chores?- Neither really because they are Responsible Adults with capital letters…however they will complain about them.

Who cleans up after the pets?- That would be Anastasia because all of her dogs are her responsibility. 

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug?- 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? -

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning?- Sanji but he also found many other things among the cushions like daggers, Sanji’s favorite cufflinks, Anastasia’s bra–so much!

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths?-  Sanji mostly because Anastasia sees it as particularly lazy to spend time than needed in the bath but Sanji manages to convince her of baths together. 

Who takes the dog out for a walk?- Both because there’s a lot of them and they both enjoy the walk.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays?- Anastasia is the one who decorates so often but Sanji can get a tad bit annoyed with how hard she goes for Halloween.

What are their goals for the relationship?- Honest communication, everlasting support, and everlasting love. 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon?- Sanji because Anastasia’s internal clock will not allow her to sleep in.

Who plays the most pranks?- Anastasia because how could she not? However Sanji can be just as sneaky and mischievous.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jess/Leto + Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

I am still not where I wanna be with writing NSFW content for them but at least I tried. Mid-era and also on ao3

Every day the internal weight is different. Every day something haunts her, some part of this life she has claimed feels out of place, but the inconsistency makes it easier, the randomly shifting emotions she hides so well. No one knows. No one will ever need to know.

Today is easier than most, easier to slip into roles and tasks she still must remind herself were never meant to be hers. But they are all the same, and she has become good at them despite…

Jessica never intended any of this, was not made to be a primary woman, but her intent has never mattered. Things happen and she adapts, and out of this a life. Out of this, happiness.

An easier day, a life lived half-awake even as she waits for inevitable consequences, for the apparently delayed punishment for choices that have yet to seem strange at all. Waiting for consequences almost ten years now, almost a third of her life and nothing, and maybe it’ll be alright, maybe they stay safe, maybe-

No. She knows better. Nothing good ever lasts. She will protect what is hers, and she will still not be enough.

This is not enough to darken her mood, not enough to make her difficult as night comes and she waits up for her partner as she does almost every night she is not otherwise occupied. If anything, the fear focuses her heart. She will take what she can whenever she can – and hasn’t that been the problem? If she had been able to quiet her heart, if she had remembered for three damn seconds that her own desires will never matter, if she hadn’t been so distracted…

And she is distracted, a decade later, distracted enough to barely hear the door open. Her posture changes quickly as she snaps out of it, not too late to salvage routines, to try to be pretty enough, to-

Another wave of fear hits, and she knows this one is invalid but it is still real. She is not as she once was, her beauty slowly changing form, and she has trusted her partner’s fidelity since before he offered it but she still-

Why her, she wonders sometimes. Her lover is like sunlight, everything he is believed to be and she knows his every weakness more than any living thing ever will. She has watched what he has become, how at worst the weight of power has made him tired, how little else has changed. She has done nothing here, has not needed to change a single detail, has not wanted to, has not-

He kisses the top of her head and she looks at him with wet eyes and oh sometimes this love feels like the undoing she’d once feared. Like something she will drown in someday, and still she has never wanted anything more.

“Say if you need me to stop,” he murmurs, taking her silence for the permission it is.

She is safe in this space, with this man who has never done wrong by her with any intent. Her body is safe; the hands that undo her dress are familiar and kind, almost extensions of herself. She closes her eyes and tries to focus herself, but she can feel the way he looks at her, respectful and still a little bit in awe of details he has seen thousands of times. If he is the sun, she thinks, then perhaps she is the night sky, perhaps-

He kisses her hand and works upward, leaving little echoes of warmth up her arm and across her collarbone and up her neck and finally her mouth where she wants it most. This is the kind of man he is, delighted by her, expressive enough about it, and she-

She has done nothing to earn this, she reminds herself, eyes still closed and she bites her lip as they break for air because he will stop touching her if she starts crying and right now she does not want that. They have time, for now they have time, they are safe they are here they are-

“Stay with me.”

“I trust you enough.”

And she does, and maybe that’s the messiest part of it all, maybe even more forbidden than how she has used her body. She was never taught what to do with affection, not what to do if, skies forbid, she actually did learn how to care about another human being. It’s the innocence that throws her off, not the fact that her lover has decided most of her skin needs kisses but the fact that she is completely sure that he feels even warmer than she does right now. She knows him, she reminds herself, knows he does not fake emotions past whatever point is necessary to avoid public conflict. The desire in his eyes is real, the soft smiles against her skin are real, the intent in every movement of his hands is real.

She has done nothing. She will bring downfall. She is loved anyways. She will never understand. Someday she will stop trying and accept it all as it is.

Today is not that day, and her mind and body feel comfortably separate as her partner covers her and finds familiar patterns of collision. She is watching this scene from outside, somehow, and it is perfectly alright that way. She will feel echoes of touch in the morning, held against her skin by a tighter underdress, reminders that she is beloved. She is chaos incarnate some days, some minor goddess of destruction of a long-abandoned planet, but she is also what her partner wants most in the world, able to take the weight just enough, able to-

He breathes her name against the curve of her neck and she loves him too much, this beautiful man who will someday burn too bright but hasn’t yet, please give them decades before she has to learn to sleep without him, please-

Jessica takes a particularly bitey kiss as her control is almost not enough, as her body is tense and then it is not and that is enough to make her partner follow. There is nothing else in the world but this, their intertwined limbs and the safety they give each other, both made powerful like this, like-

Her partner shifts his weight off her body and looks her over, looking for marks he didn’t leave. “Still in there?”

She responds with a soft kiss, a sweetness she rarely shows. “I trust you,” she says again. “And I did want that. I’m just…”

He makes a low sound, too low to be a sigh but in that sort of range, like yes he knows this could deteriorate into a fight they’ve had hundreds of times but he’s not in the mood to go there. “I want to…”

“I know.”

And she does. She could recite from memory… if not the exact wording, then at least the general outline of the tangents he gets into sometimes about wanting to do right by her. And he does, she wants to say every time and never does enough to be listened to. She is loved so completely, and she knows, and love like that requires response, and that is how they became what they are, and-

“I don’t deserve you,” he says after almost too long of a silence. “I really don’t.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “You don’t deserve the constant stress I cause, you mean.”

“Not constant, and you balance it…”

“I try, love.” Things she’d say more if she were braver, she thinks. If she could become the sort of woman who uses endearments while curling up for sleep with her partner. If she were actually good enough.

She’s not sure she is, as she retreats to her side of the bed because she is in no mood to be held and she is fully aware that she’ll probably wake up closer to her partner but…

She does try. And sometimes, in the deepest part of the night, it almost feels like enough.

[saveadancejustforyou]

God I want the messiest break up to come from this! We never ever hear anything bad about Harry, interns of break ups, all his ex’s have been nice and respectful about it. Taylor’s Swift only gave us man slaughter! So I would like Ms. Cockburn to do her job for once and taint his image a bit once this is done. It started messy, please end it messy.

I hope she writes a tell all

[buckysmetallicstump]

Ever the Gentleman Part 2

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Eventual Bucky x Reader

Summary: The reader is deaf until Tony Stark saves the day with his technology. This leads to one of Stark’s famous parties. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: Embarrassment, Cliffhanger, Language

PART 1

The brightness of the sunlight had awoken from your quite restful slumber as soon as it hit your face, momentarily blinding you for a second, streaming through your lilac curtains and you groaned loudly immediately remembering how hammered you got from Thor’s Asgardian liquor. How did I get here? you thought. The last thing you remembered Thor had broken a glass for the third time and decided to question your laughter every time.

Shifting from your left to your right side, you noticed a full glass of water with ice, ‘someone must have been in here not too long ago’  two pills and three notes on your table.

The first and second note were just 'eat me’ and 'drink me’ scribbled on the pieces. You snorted softly, hoping no one would hear you, 'how Alice in Wonderland’ you mumbled under your breath. The third note was a bit peculiar because is was folded unlike the rest.

You reached over, still in pain decided to take the pills and a large gulp of the ice water to soothe the burning sensation upon your forehead. After both pills were swallowed, you placed the glass back on the bed side table and received the third and final note.

‘(Y/N),

I know you might not remember what happened last night after you got smashed but I left these to ease the pain.

Hope you don’t mind that I went into your room.

Your Knight in Shining Armour.’

’Aren’t they sweet…but I need to find them.’

When your quest began, it was after you had a scolding hot shower. Trying to ignore the excruciating pain, you lathered up and cleansed yourself of whatever impurities that had occurred during the night before.

You were clad in dark blue jeans with a purple and black plaid shirt and a grey tank top underneath, and finally pulled on your black sneakers. As you made your way to the kitchen to get some breakfast, you grabbed a hair tie from the drawers that were set up next to the door and threw your hair up in the messiest ponytail you’ve produced. Then placed a pair of sunglasses at the top of your head because you were bound to be needing them in the long run.

You approached the common room to see Thor on the couch, Natasha and Clint in the kitchen, and Wanda, Steve and Bucky perched on the stools awaiting the arrival of their breakfast. Your body still felt like jell-o, so you just flopped onto the couch; tossing your sunglasses on the coffee table and laid your head in Thor’s lap. He chortled before asking you how you felt after drinking his powerful Asgardian liquor. 'Oh, shut up and play with my hair.’ You paused after remembering your manners 'Please…’ smiling as sweetly as you could to up the advantage you had over him. He eventually gave in and started to rhythmically stroke your hair, freeing it from your previously made ponytail. You continued 'Why do I keep drinking your Asgardian shit!’ When you let a profanity escape, you immediately closed your eyes because you knew a lecture was approaching. ’Here we go’

'Ooo, Steve. (Y/N) said a bad word.’ The one time Bucky actually speaks, its to tell Steve that you swore and whips up his head immediately, tearing his gaze away from his daily newspaper. You heard the smallest giggle come from Wanda and Natasha causing you to roll back your eyes, whilst your dad just shook his head and continued to cook the pancakes, eggs and bacon. You sent Bucky the evilest death glare that you had. 'Thank…You…Bucky’ you said snarling. You wasn’t very convincing because he just laughed at you. So you painted a sarcastic smile on you face, then turned away and bit your lip to suppress the smile forming on your lips; returning to the vacant space on Thor’s lap that you previously occupied.

You knew Steve didn’t miss it, even if Bucky didn’t tell him. He had super hearing, for god sake, as well as everything else that was super soldier. Before Steve could start his lecture you quickly said 'Sorry Steve.’ ’Why is it that you can constantly swear and you lecture us on it.’ Wanda couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore. You realised she just unintentionally read your mind. You widened your eyes at her but then smiled, “Come on Wanda, you know it’s true.’

Breakfast went well, the banter around the table seemed to make you forget about the swearing situation with Steve. You sat in between Wanda and Sam, whilst Bucky sat across from you. You could help but look around only to stop to overlook Bucky’s features subtly but a few times he had caught you, so you just had a big dopey grin on your face and he surprisingly returned it with a smile of his own. His smile wasn’t as big or as dopey as yours but you could still see he pearly white teeth shining through and oh God was it a beautiful sight to behold, it was because of you, at your expense. You broke out of your trance when you heard an indiscreet cough and a small nudge on your left knee. Sam winked at you and you registered that you were staring at Bucky whilst the other Avengers around the table were smirking at you.

’Fuck, why do I have social anxiety’ You couldn’t take the pressure anymore so you got up, thanked Nat and your dad for the pancakes and ran as fast as your legs would take you. You felt like Quicksilver at this point. Speaking of the devil, you ran into the Sokovian 'What is the hurry, младшая сестра(little sister)?’ he asked and he actually looked concerned as a stray tear trailed down a cheek. He wrapped an arm around you and awkwardly wiped the tear away. 'Come on, младшая сестра, it can not be that bad, do you want me to go to your room with you?’ He asked, slipping his arm away from you.

'It’s nothing to worry about, Pietro. I just stubbed my toe and it hurts like a bitch. I’m cool, I just needed to grab something for it anyway. Go! Have your breakfast. And by the way, I’m older than you.’ You’ve never been good at lying but somehow this came out so convincingly, it was like you were always a klutz around the tower and the earth’s mightiest heroes. Pietro fell for your lies and quickly rushed over to the kitchen to enjoy the first meal of his day.

'Fuck,’ you mumbled under your breath 'Why am I even crying, God, (Y/N), you’re so pathetic.’

Not wanting to attract anymore unwanted attention by slamming the door, you grasped the handle tightly in your palms and slowly crept to the door frame to create as little sound as possible. ’Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.’ you thought whilst bashing your head against the wall several times.

Deciding to stop moping around, you walked into the bathroom and rid yourself of any leftovers that may have got trapped in between your teeth. Two minutes are up and you spit out the remainder of the paste into the sink. Looking in the mirror, you find yourself taking a deep breath and recall the events that happened in the dining room.

'Was it that obvious, Jesus,  what is wrong with me? He’s gonna hate me. God, Look out Captain America because Captain Obvious is here.’ Resting your elbows on the edge of the porcelain sink you press both of your cheeks to the heels of your hand and position your fingertips at the top of your forehead, allowing them to dance in an attempt to calm yourself.

You needed to get your mind off of the little incident that had occurred in the dining room so you stride to your book shelf and pick out 'Game Of Thrones’ because your life isn’t as bad as theirs at least you’re not dead.

Satisfied with your book of choice, you snatched your iPod with its headphones and ambled to your bed. Settling into your bed, you placed the headphones in your ears with the hope to tune out the team in the tower. You clicked play on your favourite song and pressed repeat. Opening the first page of the book you tried to concentrate and that is exactly what you did. "We should go back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them.  "The wildlings are de-“

Out of the peripherals of your eyes, you saw someone entering your room. You glanced up and spotted a familiar broad physique with striking azure eyes and shoulders length chestnut hair; holding the glass with the remains of your orange juice that you didn’t dare to finish.

Before you could thank him, he sat next to you on your bed, with his foot tucked under his alternative thigh and apologised.

'Why are you apologising, I made a fool out of myself and I probably embarrassed you, too. I’m the one that’s sorry…and thank you, Bucky.’

He gave you a confused look, furrowing his brows, internally asking why. 'For taking care of me, even when I don’t really deserve it.’ He turned his face hiding the redness creeping upon his heated cheeks. Realisation dawned on you. 'Wait…’ He snapped his head up to look at you and set his lips into a hard, thin line as to not give anything away. 'What?’ he responds nonchalantly.

'It’s you, isn’t it?’ He stares at you, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head not comprehending what your talking about just yet. You reach over his crossed leg, into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the neatly folded paper; he recognised it instantly and slyly perked up. You hesitantly reached out to haul his left arm closer to you only stopping to look up at him and ask for permission. He returned the gesture with a lopsided smile and allowed you to hold his hand in both of yours.

Neither of you dared to break eye contact; but you did finally break the silence. 'You-You’re my knight in shining armour’ you say, tracing the ridges of his unheated, supposedly dangerous, metal arm and giggled because he was literally a man with armour for a arm. ’Why didn’t I piece this together earlier.’

'Did I do something stupid again?’ questioning him from last nights encounter. Leaning back and putting your head against the top of your bed and covering your eyes by burying them in the crook of your arm.

Bucky extends his arms to hold yours, pulling your arm away from your face. 'C'mon, doll. You shouldn’t hide from me. And you didn’t do anything stupid. I promise’ He spoke just above a whisper but continued with a sentence that was inaudible. 'What was that last part, what did you say?’ coaxing him to tell you.

He started as he looked up and ran his tongue along the top set of his teeth. 'Well…’

Lemme know what you think...

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