#on principle and because I had lots of friends who DID want to help lift stuff

[lucydacusgirl]

I never used to care when teachers were like oh I need some boys to come and help me lift heavy things because like I’m lazy I don’t want to lift heavy things but since working in a bookshop I’m just constantly like yeah I can lift this heavy box of books and now I’m starting to have defined muscles in my upper arm so.

[bluedalahorse]

Deservingness and morally complex stories, a follow up

I want to lift up and respond to an awesome comment made by @othervee on my post about the fandom and the word “deserve.” I’ll screen cap the comment first for context:

This comment intersects with some of the ideas I talk about in my MFA thesis. I’m looking at how the philosophy of restorative justice can inform writers of youth literature, and one of the central RJ principles is that every human being has worth and dignity. Innately. This idea of the “deserving poor” suggests that a select, often very wealthy few are allowed to decide who is worthy and who isn’t. It makes “worth” something that must be earned at the arbitrary whims. We all know that this can go downhill pretty quickly, playing out in austere (or worse!) political policies.

To take this into the realm of literature, the notion of characters being “deserving” sort of positions us, the readers, in the place where we are deciding who is worthy and who is not. And I don’t want to reject that instinct entirely, because I do think many writers invite us to do moral reasoning prompted by the stories they tell us. But I do think there is a marked difference between writers who build worth and dignity into the baseline of every character, versus writers who don’t.

We’ve all read stories where some characters are Worthy and some characters are Not Worthy, and the story’s moral lesson is to emulate the Worthy characters while avoiding anything connected with the Not Worthy characters. We’ve also seen stories that are perhaps less binary and a bit more nuanced, but still have an ultimate, inherently evil character to defeat as part of the third-act climax. I think these stories can be instructive up to a point—it can help readers to have a basic list of Dos and Don’ts—but they don’t always meet every need a reader can have.

I think it’s rarer to have stories where every character, be they protagonist or antagonist or sympathetic villain or antihero, is crafted with worth and dignity at their core. Nonetheless, these stories are incredibly needed, because even with lists of Dos and Don’ts on hand, people fuck up sometimes. Sometimes people fuck up spectacularly. Or, someone close to them has fucked up spectacularly and the image they had of that person is altered forever. It can hard to see a path forward in these kinds of moments, and often people want to hide instead of taking action or holding someone accountable. Seeing characters actually work through problems—not actually cleanly or perfectly, but in a way that has momentum and realness—is so important.

Here’s a small paragraph from my thesis, where I’m talking about The Black Kids by Christina Hammonds Reed, and its protagonist Ashley Bennet:

[This kind of writing] empowers [teenagers] to make restitution to those they have harmed in their own lives. Interpersonal conflict is almost never clear-cut and easily resolved. Because Ashley's journey is neither simple nor perfectly executed, it validates the emotions of readers who may be reluctant to address their own difficult situations with friends and loved ones, while still inspiring them to action. By engaging with restitution as a complex, yet wholly possible, emotional journey, writers avoid talking down to their young readers and meet them where they are. Finally, writers who invest effort in this sort of character arc reassure their readers of a key cornerstone of restorative justice belief that they are worthy (Evans and Vaanderling 31). Restorative justice professes the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings, and in part this means that people are worthy of the chance to do better and make amends for times that they did harm.

That tells you where I’m coming from with these thoughts, and why they matter to me. I work with young people, and they fuck up. A lot. But a lot of them also struggle with the idea of restitution, because it can feel so impossible, especially in a world that’s become so polarized and puritanical, and so scrutinized by social media, and where it can feel like you have to be good and stay good 24/7, or there’s no point. You know? We want to be the heroes in our own stories, but every single one of us has been someone’s villain once in a while, too. And we need characters who help us confront this.

Naturally, my research was inspired by Young Royals, because I do think Lisa imbues worth and dignity into every single character as she creates them. Wilhelm isn’t worthy because he’s a prince, and Simon isn’t worthy because he’s a talented singer. Rather, their worth lies in their humanity itself, and when they tap into their human vulnerability, they can make progress with one another and better understand their impact on the world. Likewise, August’s tragedy as a character is that he does have inherent worth, but he fails to see it. He mistakes his status and wealth for worth instead, and ends up leaning into power games that harm others instead of acknowledging his humanity and capacity to connect. That hits harder than like, Lisa just writing him as a Vortex Of Posh Boy Evil Who Must Be Banished To The Outer Realms, you know? I know I say this a lot, and I know a lot of people will not along and go “yeah of course he’s complex.” It’s the craft reasons why he’s complex that I actually wanna break down and analyze, though, because those matter to me.

There are other stories out there that handle this kind of complexity well. ATLA is like the textbook example in animation. YA books are where I’m seeing some of the best ideas thrown around… Randy Ribay’s Patron Saints of Nothing is forever a mentor text to me for how it approaches the dynamics of a grieving family living under a dictatorship. Adib Khorram’s Darius books have some of the best, most human parent-child relationships I’ve ever seen. Malinda Lo writes messy queers and I’m honestly in awe of how she does it. Joy McCullough’s verse novels make me cry like no one else. And Zach Smedley’s Deposing Nathan, while a very difficult book to read, is such a shining example of how you can tell these kinds of stories where every character is inherently worthy, but you don’t have to end it with like, group hugs and rainbows and forgiveness everyone being on wonderful terms. Because that’s another thing about this area of research. Sometimes you talk about it and people are like “oh so you just want stories to apologize for toxic people and abusers?” And no, that’s not it at all. Not everyone does get forgiven in the stories I mentioned above, or gets away free from consequences. But for me, the resolution and catharsis in those stories has always hit harder, and helped me make meaning out of trauma from my own life better, than stories where things play out as a simple tale of good and evil, where the good triumphs in a happily ever after and the evil is summarily punished and whisked away forever.

This is getting alarmingly personal, and I have grocery shopping to do this morning, so I think I’m going to cut myself off for now. Fellow writers, where do you see the worth in your characters? What techniques do you use to approach that worth?

[natewriteslol]

The Wonders of Magic Pt. 1

Non magical!Twisted Boys x Witch!Reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my brain for a while since I have Little Witch Academia brainrot and I love snooty rich boys asdfljsfaj

Characters: Keep reading to find out!!

Warnings: Language and Y/N goes by she/her pronouns 

Summary: Dealing with magical adventures and society deeming magic as “flashy but worthless” doesn’t deter Y/N L/N from reaching her goal of becoming a powerful witch. However, what will she do when she has to find a way to stop the selling Calypso Academy? 

~~~

All your life you had dreamed of being a witch, however there was a slight problem. You weren't a magic user.

And as magic use had started to become more oppressed and scarce, magic schools were starting to open their doors to all walks of life. Making the most elite schools fall to their knees.

Either you lose your elite status or fall into debt.

So this was good opportunity for you, you managed to make it into one of the most renowned magic schools in the country, Calypso Academy. But it wasn't all peaches and cream, you weren't exactly accepted among your peers. Your family weren't magic users, nor were they wealthy. Yet you still pursued magic, there was a fire burning in your heart that just drew you in all your life. And you couldn't let your dream go just because of some mean girls. But this is the story of how you met some of your greatest obstacles.

 ~~~

It was the night of the great Ball, Calypso academy was having it's 350th anniversary. And you unlucky for you, you still didn’t know how to ride a broom since you were learning from the ground up. 

So there you were, by yourself, in one of the open fields of your campus. Trying to make this broom fly. 

And in your flight teacher Ms. Flint’s words, “If the broom doesn’t leave the ground, you can’t step a foot in the ball.” And so far, your feet have been stuck on the ground.

You felt horrible. I mean, what witch doesn’t know how to fly a broom? And while you were incredibly dejected

 from your failures, you knew you couldn’t just let it go. 

‘The trick it to be determined, yet feel as light as a feather. Be one with the broom’ your manifestation teacher, Mrs. Fairi had softly advised. You had to do this for for her, she already put so much faith in you, she would be so disappointed if she didn’t see you at the ball. 

“Nubes Volant ro!” You casted, pushing your leg to lift. Expecting your legs to come back down and for your shoes to hit the softness of the grass... but it never came.

You opened your eyes and there you were, suspended in air. 

Your excitement was indescribable, but you needed to be skilled enough to meet the requirements for Ms. Flint. So you tried and tried again, and while a little shaky you still managed to fly and do a stable landing! 

“I did it! Screw everyone in this academy who doubted me!” You  squealed a little loud, doing a little dance. You heard  footsteps and chuckling, but you brushed it off as some of your classmates. Too excited to care, you grabbed your things and ran off to show Ms. Flint.   But there was one problem, the entire point of this celebration was to both celebrate the anniversary but... it was begging as well. It was no secret that Calypso was losing money to pay taxes, but they were being pressured to give it all up. So to persuade the buyers, they had invited their son's to be enriched in witch culture and tradition. To prove them wrong and show that magic has value. However the students of the academy weren't aware of the true intentions behind the invites of the son's of these rich men. Many whispered in the halls about the upcoming ceremony. Talking about how handsome the young men attending were. But the day of the party was finally here! The banquet was absolutely incredible with 25 foot tables of food on both sides of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers with floating candles illuminating and creating a heavenly golden light. And the great ancient tapestries that surrounded the room. There was no way that anything could mess up your night. 

But then, you heard a shout from a classmate in the crowd. "The nobles sons! They're here!" You stopped stuffing your face for a moment. Everyone cleared the way for the grand wooden doors as they opened, a red carpet elegantly draping the piece of floor it laid on. Designer shoes clicked as they touched the ground. Every girl eyes followed as they walked, you snuck past some trying to get a glimpse of their features. They were five of them being escorted by one older gentleman, all incredibly handsome young men. One had a bright smile that was genuine and waving at some of the girls in the crowd. While the other had a smirk not paying anyone any mind, as if he was calculating something. One held a solemn expression, yet was incredibly poised and graceful. The last two however wore scowls, one that showed he most definitely didn’t want to be here while the other just looked strict. 

They sat down in their seats in the front table that awaited them. Each seat was just as fancy as a king’s throne, with gold embellishments and velvet seats. 

It was a cookie cut scene, they were made for this life of luxury.

~~~

It was an hour into the ceremony, showcasing tricks and theatrical dances from every witch culture from around the globe. But it was almost as though nothing was satisfying them, besides the one with white hair. While he adorned a smile, there was something behind his eyes, as though he was doing some critical thinking. 

Nothing was enough for them. 

But it was toward the end and the noble’s sons were promised a tour. Every witch in the school was made to study up on knowledge of the campus. So that if you were the “lucky winner” you wouldn’t look like a complete fool. 

As you snacked on your chocolate filled croissant, Ms. Flint with her booming voice had called everyone’s attention to the center of the stage. Raising her wand, a split of golden light had displayed random names. 

Knowing your luck, you knew you wouldn’t be picked. I mean this was probably a tactic to get people to study the school’s magical history. It did work, as if there was a slight chance you were chosen you wouldn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of people like you usually did. But, Principal Hendrix wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to let a random student represent the school, right? 

Exactly. But even then, you sure did feel sorry for whoever was to give the tour-

“Y/N L/N!”

...

Remember what you said about shitty luck? 

Shocked was an understatement. Even though you had your two best and only friends Silva and Miete patting you on the back telling you congrats and to do your best, the hammering of your heart was too heavy for you to handle. 

Whispers broke out for a moment, a lot of girls were incredibly disappointed but cleared the way for you to go up the stairs and talk to Ms. Flint and Principal Hendrix. 

“Good job, Y/N. Now if you wouldn’t mind, please give these young men a tour of Calypso, would you?” Principle Hendrix said gently with a smile.

“Ha, ha, of course! But surely there’s been a mistake, I mean Lydia could probably recite the information without having to read a single book-” 

“No way, L/N. You were chosen, now do the tour please, the latest you can be back is at 9pm,” Ms. Flint replied, cutting you off sharply. 

“You’re an incredibly charismatic student, Y/N. Just keep them entertained,” Principle Hendrix whispered as you walked toward the table.

Be charismatic, not awkward! Got it!

“Alrighty then! Who’s ready for a tour?” you said, almost giving finger guns as a mechanism. 

“Oh, I am!” 

“Yes,  I’ve been wanting to see the range of this property in person.”

“Yes, I would like to get this over with. I have an appointment tomorrow and I would not like to miss it.”

Other than that, all you received was a nod and an eye roll. But it’s better not to pry and ask for more from them. 

Each getting out of their seats, you walked outside. Hearing cheers from the crowd and the occasional “Vil! I love you!” which made you a little embarrassed. 

Feeling the night breeze and seeing the stars poke through calmed you down slightly, it was 7:45 and all you had to do was blabber at them about the school until 9. 

Easy task, Y/N. Easy!

~~~

Once you got outside, the tour had been running smoothly for only a couple of minutes. But you couldn’t help but feel as though they started scanning you, as if they saw you from somewhere. Until unfortunately, the sunshine of the group’s lightbulb had went off. 

“Oh! You’re the girl with the broomstick towards the front of the school! You looked so happy practicing.” 

“There must be a mistake-”

“Are you sure? If so then I guess you have a doppelganger” the boy with glasses teased. 

“Didn’t you say, ‘Screw everyone at this academy’?” the short, red head questioned, persecuting your behavior. 

“Well some people here aren’t exactly the nicest. It was just an excitement of the moment thing, sorry,” You said, trying to get Mr. Non-Rule Breaker off your back. 

~~~

So... you had accidently overshared about your adventures on campus. 

It had all started when one of the boys looked shocked that the ancient Willow tree was thriving and looking beautiful as ever. When he looked at it from pictures given to him, it was completely lifeless and grey. 

“This tree, it looks completely different? It’s been sickly for years! How is this possible?” He asked, as his main piece of evidence the white haired boy gave to his father to buy this property was foiled. 

“Oh, that was me. They had willow worms in the roots that were ready to hatch and I accidently brought them out,” you said, a little prideful, yet it was quickly stomped out.

“That is highly irresponsible, you should’ve had a professional complete that task, not an inexperienced student,” the red haired boy scoffed, it seemed as though he didn’t respect this school at all. Yet the boy with grey hair and glasses paid him no mind, still incredibly astonished, but it was quickly wiped from his face and replaced with a somewhat of a sour look. As though you beat him at some game he was playing.

“...Interesting. I never knew magic could do something of that caliber,” he remarked,  pushing up his glasses. 

“Magic is incredibly useful, Mr...” 

Shit. You didn’t get their names...

“My apologies, I didn’t catch your guy’s names,” you said, placing a hand behind your head. 

You had never in your life seen a group of people get so surprised, besides the other white haired boy, who was happy to tell you his name. 

“I’m Kalim, Kalim-Al-Asim!” he said, shaking your hand with a vigor, “It’s a little funny that you don’t know who we are, but I like that about you!�� 

How was it funny? You’ve never seen these people in your entire life? The blonde man was especially offended as you glanced at him for his name. 

“Vil Schoenheit. Actor, singer, dancer, beauty influenc-” 

“Hmmm, Vil I can’t help but feel that you’re angry at Ms. L/N for not knowing who you are,” the boy with glasses remarked before taking your hand, “Azul Ashengrotto, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“I’m Riddle Rosehearts,” the short red-haired boy said.

“...Leona Kingscholar.” 

“Alright, I’m glad I got your names! Let’s get a move on! I have got to show you some more stuff!” you said before moving along, gaining more confidence as you talked to them. 

Maybe this tour wasn’t so bad after all!

~~~

Coming up:

“How did you not know who the noble’s sons are?!” Miette yelled, but her soft voice wasn’t exactly giving the shocking boom to emphasize her feelings.

“I’m sorry! Everything was completely fine after that, if this whole tour was such a big deal then I would’ve studied them more instead of the school,” you said, completely pooped out from last night. 

So much pressure on you made you very tired out, and all of these new details coming out made you feel even more guilty for your half-assed tour. 

[youryanderedaddy]

Sorry to bother you! That yandere brat piece was very good! I was wondering if in the future you would be interested in creating a part two? Again, wonderful work, have a nice day!

Tw: slight nsfw, obsessive/possessive behavior, abuse of authority, non - consensual touching, implied non - con

Two months had passed since Gabrielle manipulated you into dating him and as much as you hated the entitled snob, being his girlfriend had its perks. People seemed to show more respect towards you, maybe even fear, knowing that you had managed to tame one of the most dangerous bullies on the campus. And of course you always got what you wanted with as much as one look, be it clothes, jewelry, makeup or someone’s quick and painless murder. Some of the girls envied you for catching the eye of the rich, handsome heir, most of them wished you’d be gone so they could stand a chance with the blonde.

They were so foolish in the way they believed you were genuinely happy with your “lover” and as dreamy as your situation looked to the others, the cold reality was much more sinister. You hated seeing the awe in your colleagues’ eyes every time you passed in the hall with Gabrielle’s hand wrapped around your waist. You despised his stupid little gifts and public acts of affection, it felt shiny, fussy and most of all fake. But what had caused you the most heartbreak was the look on your best friend’s face once he realized you had chosen the enemy that had tormented him for months. Still, it didn’t matter, it shouldn’t have, you couldn’t approach him anyways with your loving, doting boyfriend following your every move closely.

You had tried to get some help early on while you still had hope that you could get away from the obsessive man. You had spoken to the principle, opening up about the events from the past few months, told him all about the party incident, the constant harassment and stalking, all up to the point when the blonde had threatened you into staying with him. In that moments there were tears glistering in your eyes and you were shaking during the whole conversation yet you managed to spit out the bitter words stuck at the back of your throat like a hard, heavy stone. On top of reliving the nightmare once again trough your memories, you were met with silence. With fear. The principle was not only a coward kissing up to Gabrielle’s father, but also a snitch. That night your boyfriend took you for the first time.

It was the middle of the night when his cold piercing voice woke you up from your deep peaceful slumber. The only time you caught a break from the blonde was in your sleep and now he wanted to take this away from you too. You felt the man’s weight on your body and opened your mouth in a desperate attempt to shout but his palm quickly covered it, successfully turning your screams into muffled whimpers. You lifted your head to look at him pleadingly, silently asking to be spared, but his gaze fixed upon your squirming frame was so stern and intense it almost forced you still. You hadn’t seen the male so angry since the night he cornered you against the wall and confessed his feelings.

“You are so fucking naive, bunny.” Gabrielle growled in your ear, your back breaking in cold sweat. In the next moment his lips were trailing the sensitive feverish skin of your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh until the drops of fresh blood dripped down your collarbone. “Such a silly little girl.” He whispered in a deep patronizing voice, a note too condescending to sound caring or sweet. His warm breath was hitting your abused spots, love bites and hickeys, his tongue wet and hot over the nasty possessive marks. ”You really thought that the principle wouldn’t tell me about the pathetic little stunt you have pulled this morning.” The male continued, his heavy gaze pinning you further into the soft mattress. You wanted to defend yourself or maybe even try to talk your way out but the blonde suddenly pushed two of his fingers down your throat causing you to gag. “I don’t want to hear your excuses so save your breath.” Gabrielle spat out with venom and pulled his digits out of your mouth wiping the saliva on your flimsy white t-shirt. The heir stared at you from above, his face pale and hesitant. He was thinking about something.

“I wanted to be gentle with you.” The man admitted softly yet huskily as he reached out to stroke your tear – stained cheek. “I really don’t enjoy seeing you so scared of me. It doesn’t suit you.” The snob sighed in frustration, obviously conflicted by two different feelings, and narrowed his eyes. “But you proved yourself incapable of making decisions on your own.” Part of him wanted to break you completely and the other wished to hold you close and cherish you forever. Unfortunately for you, at the end the evil prevailed and his gaze hardened, his blue eyes dark and chaotic, cruel in the way they resembled a thunderstorm a lot more than a clear sky. “The moment I leave you alone, you try to run away from me like a frightened little rabbit.” The male muttered under his breath, the pitiful expression of heartbreak written all over his pretty face. You couldn’t help but brace yourself for what was to come because despite not knowing what it was, your gut feeling was eating at you, the panic suffocating you. “I am going to make you mine tonight.” The blonde finally stated in an eerie monotone tone, devoid of any emotion other than empty desperate anger, the type of rage you experience only when you desire something you can never truly get.

Gabrielle easily slipped his cold hand under your t-shirt and cupped your breast, smiling at the warmth radiating from your soft skin. He circled your areola and gently teased your nipple until it stood at attention. You wanted to force his prying hand away from your chest but the shock was too paralyzing to leave enough room for any courage. After all Gabrielle had never gotten this far before. “P-please stop! I’m sorry for what I did, I will never do it again, I promise.” You begged the man who had taken your freedom to spare the only thing that still fully belonged to you – your innocence. The bully simply chuckled in response and caressed your hair in a fruitless attempt at comfort. Perhaps the man didn’t realize his touch could never be comforting to you, but he couldn’t help himself when you looked so cute and repentant in your meaningless struggles. “Darling, this isn’t meant to be a punishment.” The blonde looked you straight in the eyes, a sly teasing smile on his full red lips. “This is me showing you exactly who you belong to.” The hungry kiss that followed after burnt your tongue more than any of the poisonous words you wanted to spill.

You weren’t sure whether your heart or your body was bleeding out more. At the end it didn’t really matter as neither were yours to control. Not anymore.

[imagineyourworld]

Never Date a Pilot

Poe Dameron x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: When he hears that you’re going on a date with another pilot your best friend is anything but happy

Warnings: None

Masterlist

-------

“You’re going on a date with Jak Milson?” 

You put the datapad you had been working on down and looked up at Poe. Your best friend was standing in front of your desk, arms crossed in front of his chest and disbelief written all over his face. 

“Hello to you too, Poe”, you sighed. From the way he was looking at you you knew there was no chance you’d get back to work soon. “And yes, I am going out with Jak.” 

For a moment Poe just stared at you in silence, then he put both of his hands down on your desk and leaned closer to you. 

“Why?”, he asked. Just a single word and yet it had you riled up. Yes, Poe was your best friend, but years ago you had established one single rule for your friendship: You would not talk about your dating or sex lives, at least unless one of you had a serious partner and the topic could no longer be avoided, but so far that’s never been the case. 

“Do we have to talk about that now?”, you asked. You lifted your hands and motioned around the room. It was only when you looked around a second later that you noticed that although there were ten more desks in the room, all of them were empty. You were alone with Poe. 

“Worried your boyfriend is gonna come in?”, Poe scoffed. 

It was the tone rather than the words that made your gaze return to him. Sure, Poe could get mad, but even then he didn’t talk to you in that tone, especially not when he had no reason to be mad in the first place. 

You leaned back further in your chair and sighed. Apparently you had been right and this conversation would take some time. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, I’m just going on a date with him.” 

“Why?”, Poe asked again. 

Abruptly you jumped up from your chair, causing him to take a step back from you so your heads wouldn’t crash together. You walked to the other side of your desk until you were standing right in front of him. 

“I thought we agreed not to talk about dating.” 

Instinctively Poe nodded, but just a second later he shook his head. You rolled your eyes at your friend. Didn’t he see that you had a lot of work to do and didn’t want to talk about this? 

“So I have to abide by your principles and you don’t have to?” 

He stepped closer to you, so close that your chests were almost touching and you could see the tiny golden specks in his eyes. Usually being this close to him would make you flustered, but today it only made you angrier. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“Did you know he’s a pilot?”, Poe asked just a fraction of a moment after your question has left your mouth. 

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing, your hands forming fists so tight you could feel your nails biting into the soft flesh. 

“I did.” 

You didn’t add that that might have been part of the reason you agreed to go out with Jak in the first place. Being a pilot, having soft curls, warm brown eyes and an easy smile he reminded you just enough of the person you would rather go out with to maybe forget about the best friend you have been pining over for years and move on. 

All of the sudden the fight left Poe. He no longer stared at you with blazing eyes, but instead looked down at his feet, almost defeated. And no matter how much you just wanted to smack him a second earlier, now you longed to hold him until the worry lines on his handsome face disappeared. 

“Poe”, your voice was barely above a whisper, scared you’d say the wrong thing. “What’s the matter?” 

You reached out to capture both his hands in yours and gently rubbed soothing circles on his knuckles. “You know you’ll always be my favourite pilot.” 

Gently, but determined, he pulled his hands out of my grib, though his eyes stayed locked on his feet. 

“And yet you break your rules for another pilot.” 

His voice was so soft and quiet, it took you a moment to fully register his words. Once you did, however, you were even more confused. Hadn’t he said something about rules earlier as well? 

“Poe, would you stop speaking in riddles? What rules are you talking about?” 

Finally he looked at you again. By now his expression was no longer angry or sad, it was plain confusion. You realized you probably didn’t look much different. 

“Do you really not remember your rule about never dating pilots?” 

You couldn’t keep the laugh that burst out of you contained. What on earth was he talking about? Sure, you’ve never dated a pilot, but that was partly because Jak had been the first pilot to ever ask you out and partly because you didn’t want to date just any pilot, you had a specific one in mind. 

"I never came up with a rule like that."

“Of course you did!”, Poe exclaimed, a bit of the earlier fire returning to his voice and face. “Jean-Lyn’s seventh birthday party.” 

He said the words with such a conviction that he must believe them to ring a bell, but you just shook your head. 

“Poe, I barely even remember having been friends with someone names Jean-Lyn and certainly nothing that happened at their seventh birthday party.” 

If the situation were less serious you might have laughed at the way hurt, confusion and realisation chased across Poe’s face. 

“You really don’t remember, do you? We were playing a game or introducing ourselves or something, I don’t know, and we were supposed to say what we wanted to be when we grow up. I said that I was going to be a pilot and marry you, and I was one hundred percent convinced of both, but then you said that you would never date a pilot.” 

You knew you shouldn’t laugh, after all, Poe was telling you about a childhood memory that clearly meant a lot to him, but you couldn’t help it. 

“So you’re mad at me for something I said more than two decades ago? Poe Dameron, you are such an idiot.” 

You were still laughing when Poe spoke again, but his words made you quiet down quickly. 

“It’s not funny. Your words made me rethink my career countless times and if it weren’t for this war and the Resistance I would have quit flying years ago just to ask you out. And now I find out that you don’t even remember your own rule and are going out with a pilot that isn’t me.” 

Finally it dawned on you. You remembered Poe thinking about not going to the Academy, wanting to quit flying and become a teacher instead, glaring at anyone who got close to you, but never another pilot. 

A smile made its way to your lips. 

“You know, there’s a pilot I would rather go out with that Jak”, you told Poe. 

You didn’t know whether it was the years of friendship or the amused, yet loving and hopeful, expression on your face that told Poe you were talking about him, but he seemed to understand. 

“I never said anything about going out with you, I said I want to marry you.” 

His broad smile was matching yours and only grew when you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“How about we go on a date first, flyboy?” 

Instead of an answer Poe put both of his hands on your waist and pulled you closer. 

“Under one condition: Your new rule is that you don’t date a pilot who isn’t me.” 

“I hate being told what to do”, you whispered against his lips. “But in this case I might make an exception.” 

Instead of an answer Poe leaned down just a tiny bit more until your lips finally met in a soft kiss that sent fireworks through your entire body.  

You had no idea why seven year old you said that she’d never date a pilot, because it was inevitable that Poe would become a pilot and there was no one else you’d rather date. 

-------

Is this cute? Is this stupid? All I know is that writing this was more fun than doing my assignment

[hops-hunny]

What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.6k

Request: N/A

Summary: When two beautiful people fall in love, everything can go right. Or, the one where Blaise gets the girl of his dreams.

Warnings: None?? Mentions of past self hate, positive use of the word fat.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. Enjoy!

Fat. It was a word (Y/n) had thrown at her from a young age but had grown to become neutral with as she got older. See, the (y/h/h) was fortunate enough to grow up in a household with her dear aunt Marlene who brought her up on the principle that ‘fat and ugly were not synonymous’ which she found herself quite fortunate of. You see, Marlene herself was an extravagant woman. She never stepped out of the house unless she was runway ready, long acrylic nails, hair curled in the prettiest of waves, and a face of makeup that could put anyone to shame. Marlene found her niece to be reminiscent of herself when she was younger. But, she also knew no matter the great example she showed her and the encouragement she’d give her, the world around her would affect the way she viewed herself until she reached a certain age.

However luckily for (Y/n), that age was when she hit the ripe age of 14. She was sick of it. Sick of feeling like a prisoner of her own body. Sick of hiding from mirrors, sick of wearing clothes that fit her like potato sacks just to hide the figure that she was naturally born with. Why should she have to feel bad because the world wasn’t ready to accept her for who she was? Why should she have to hide away due to a bit of extra weight and fat? So, after a long night of crying she decided from that day forward she would do her absolute best to at least accept her body for what it was. She didn’t wanna skip meals anymore just to make everyone around her comfortable. She didn’t want to avoid clothes that made her figure less of a figure. She wanted to live and be free in the body she was currently in.

If she could go back to where she was when she was 14, she’d tell herself she had exceeded that limitation. She was far beyond just accepting herself for who she was, she loved who she was. (Y/n) found herself falling in love with a new thing about herself every time she found herself blessed with the fortune of time to look in a mirror. Whether it was the way the rolls of her back reminded her of the ocean or the bumps and lumps around her hip area that were reminiscent of clouds, she loved every bit of herself. Even though it took her time to get there, she didn't regret it one bit.

Her confidence and demeanor attracted a lot of positive attention wherever she went. Her friends adored her and so did many other people around the castle! There was always a few wronguns here and there but that goes without saying. Even if you change your outlook on life, in a society where fat is a sin there will always be your self proclaimed saints. The more popular opinion shared throughout the castle though was ‘if she could find love in herself, why shouldn’t I be able to as well?’. Although it’s hard for one girl to change the world, she came quite close to it, always offering a shoulder to anyone in need and a helpful word of advice to anyone on the path of self acceptance and love.

There was one person who noticed her much more than that. Some would say it was a crush but no, it went quite deeper than that. He found himself being absolutely enamored by her. Her confidence, her positivity, her ever radiant beauty. All those things he found to be addicting, entrancing. Never had he come across a woman of any sorts who was so sure of herself, so proud to be in the skin she was born in. (Y/n) knew who she was and honestly? It was fucking hot. Blaise Zabini wasn’t one to make wild claims which is why when he thought about how he felt, he was very sure of the feeling. He absolutely adored the goddess that was (Y/n) (L/n). So why was it so hard to say it to her?

The way she made him feel had him in a whirlwind of emotions. A lot of the times, he was infuriated. Not by the way she made him feel, but the way she made him act. Blaise was always a hit with women from all houses around hogwarts. Why wouldn’t he be? When you’re a tall, dark, and handsome man with oodles of charismatic charm and yes, a fat load of cash, who wouldn’t wanna be yours? He could have any woman he wanted wrapped around his finger before he even opened his mouth. But around her, around her? His mouth would close as soon as it opened. He’d feel a rush of heat move to his face and his ears would start ringing. What was this feeling? This feeling that made him act so idiotic. This feeling that had him awake late at night, wondering what it would be like if he only said-

“Hi.” his head snapped up at the sound of a familiar warm voice. The same voice that made his heart race wildly, the same voice that made him act like one of those stupid fucking Hufflepuffs. All nerves and scurrying to find something, anything to say. There she was right in front of him, looking uncharacteristically shy. She had her arms behind her back one hand gripping at her other wrist as she looked up at him through thick lashes. “Have I wronged you in any way?”

“Hm?” he hummed out, still dazed as he looked down at her with a soft look present on his face. He cleared his throat slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that was suddenly too tight. Too constricting, too-

“Have I wronged you? I always see you staring at me quite a bit.” she repeated, gaining her confidence back some. God was he always this bloody gorgeous? Well, to her he was. She had her eye on him ever since she’d ran into him on the train back in first year. “I know I’m quite pretty, but I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate that. No?” she questioned, taking a step closer to him. She felt her hands grow sweaty at the smell of his aftershave, a sharp smell in comparison to her own strawberry body mist.

Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t he tell? He always could tell. Many upon many times he found himself rejecting women before they could even get the chance to confess how they felt. So why now, why with her could he not? Was this- was this nerves? “My girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that. I-I mean I don’t have a girlfriend!” he stumbled out, cursing under his breath slightly. He felt himself grow quite warm as he heard her giggle. He looked up at the sound once more wishing he hadn’t. She looked radiant in the glow of the late evening sun. Her round cheeks prominent as her face turned up in a smile before she quirked a brow at him.

“Ah I see then. You don’t have a girlfriend but you were staring?” she questioned, feeling a bit guilty about how she was enjoying the usually calm and collected boy lose his composure. His face fell straight before processing what she said. (Y/n) could see a whirlwind of emotions happen behind his eyes in such a short period of time. ‘Isn’t it funny that only a few years prior this would have been me? I can’t wait to tell Rose-Marie about this later.’

“I-I.. you know what? Yeah I do stare at you quite a bit. More often than not, I find myself staring at you.” he closed the distance between them, her soft frame pressing against his tone one. He lifted two of his fingers up to her chin, lifting her head softly. “How could I not? You’re an absolute work of art. Only the most worthy of men should be able to gaze at such a rare beauty and I find myself to be very worthy.” he whispered softly, his dark umber eyes staring into the (h/c) haired girl’s (e/c) ones.

It */was crazy how with such few words, he could make her feel so breathless, so woozy. Was she awake right now? The moment she had been waiting for since first year was currently right in front of her. The years spent dreaming, pining from a distance all gone in a few words. She smiled up at him, placing a soft hand on the man’s toned chest. Even through his clothes she could feel that he had a nice build to him. “I suppose you’re worthy. I mean look at us, we’re both beautiful. Imagine the gallery of art we’d be together.” she said, confident in her words as she bat her eyelashes. (Y/n) would be damned if she was the only one left breathless and flustered after this exchange.

“Well, why imagine dear? I’ll be taking you to Hogsmeade this weekend.” He said, turning around as he began to walk off. She was stunned. Was this the infamous charm she had heard him having? As much as (Y/n) had heard about how charming and suave Blaise was, she had never heard of him asking anyone out for a date. Knowing this gave her her own boost of confidence.

“You will be? What makes you so sure I’ll be there?” Blaise froze, turning his head back at the girl’s teasing words. He smirked. She really was something else.

“Oh I know. I wasn’t the only one staring all this time, I saw you too.” he winked laughing some before turning around walking off. (Y/n) felt herself smiling some as she shook her head before her eyes widened.

“Wait, what am I gonna wear?!”

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

There was exactly 30 minutes until Blaise was meant to arrive and (Y/n) was nowhere near ready yet. See, she had planned on being ready early, even going as far as to get up at the time she usually did for class. However, after an impromptu dance session in her underwear her luck had run out. She wasn’t completely unprepared though, her hair had been done the night before and her makeup not taking much time, the main cause of concern was her outfit. 

The problem wasn’t a lack of clothes, it was quite the opposite. She had so many clothes that she had absolutely no idea of what to wear! She frustratedly slammed her fist on the pile of clothes in front of her letting out a few choice words. In a moment of defeat, she looked up at her empty wardrobe- wait a second. (Y/n) quickly scrambled to her wardrobe, slipping and sliding on the sea of clothes that lined the way before quickly yanking out the clothes covered hanger. On the hanger was a two piece set.

 The top was a wisteria purple crop top with puffy short sleeves, the skirt the same exact shade with a ruffle hem. “This is perfect! Where did this come from?” she said, checking herself out in the mirror. The outfit clung to her plush body, every curve visible and apparent. The girl smiled, smoothing her hand over the outline of her stomach that was apparent through her skirt. Years ago she would’ve been bothered by the entire concept of the outfit but now the outline of her figure made her smile like an old friend. She quickly put on a pair of white chunky sneakers, accessorizing the outfit with a few necklaces and rings as well just in time to hear a knock on the door. She did another once over in the mirror before quickly running to the door pulling it open to reveal Blaise standing there. She felt her face grow warm at his appearance.

He wore a form fitting maroon sweatshirt that he had rolled up to his elbows, a pair of jeans that weren’t skinny but fit to his figure in the most flattering of ways, and a pair of expensive shoes from some brand she couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. In his hands were a bouquet of flowers composed of forget me nots, baby’s breath, and daisies. Blaise was in awe. He had seen her outside of her uniform a plethora of times but knowing that she had dressed up so nicely just to go on a date with him made his heart soar. “Wow, you look breathtaking. Look at you!” he hyped her up, grabbing her hand. He held their entwined fingers above their heads, signaling for her to spin around. “Lovely, absolutely divine. I can’t believe I’m going on a date with a deity.” he said, smile growing more as (Y/n) grew shyer.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Zabini. You look great, maroon is definitely your color.” she gushed, closing the door to her room. She looked down at their still entwined fingers, squeezing his large calloused hand with her small chubby one before bringing her gaze up to his face. Unsurprisingly, he was already looking at her.

“Thank you, dove. Let’s get going shall we? I’ve got a ton I wanna do with you and such a short amount of time. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“We shall.”

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

The first place they arrived at was a building she had seen many times during her visits to Hogsmeade but had never been in. It was an old brick building with a paintbrush on an old rusty sign above it.

“An art store?” she questioned, looking up at him confused but not against his choice. They both walked in, a sound of a bell dinging as they did so. She looked around in awe at the abundance of supplies. The store was sort of stuffy and crowded but that was a part of its charm. Blaise scratched at the back of his neck nervously as he watched her roam around.

“Yeah I don’t know if I mentioned it before but I enjoy doing art in my freetime. I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite places first.” He said, walking up behind her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “A-and well, everytime I imagined going on a date with you, I always pictured the two of us showing each other our favorite hidden gems. We can leave if you wa-”

“That won��t be necessary. This is really cool and I’ve always wanted to learn more about art! I’m more of a reader and writer myself.” she said, grabbing his hand. Blaise let out a huge breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in in the first place before dragging her off in the direction of his favorite brand of oil paints. The two walked hand in hand, exploring his favorite parts of the store. When he’d see something he used himself or was familiar with, he’d explain it to her, rambling off about it excitedly.

Blaise wasn’t normally the type of guy to speak many words but being around (Y/n) brought out that side of him. It wasn’t that his friends were bad per say, they just weren’t very fond of listening to things that didn’t pertain to them which he was more than fine with. However, it was nice having an outlet to share his interest for once. He loved that she would ask questions about things and even let him talk about his own work. Most girls he talked to never really cared to listen to what he had to say, often spending more time kissing him breathless than listening to the words that flew from his lips. But (Y/n) was very attentive, listening to everything he had to say, eyes full of the same excitement he held.

“Alright, I think I’ve bought everything I’ve needed from here. Your pick, where do you wanna go?” he questioned, grabbing the girl’s hand again as they walked out of the small art store. He offered the old man behind a small smile before turning his attention back to his date. (Y/n) thought about it, humming as she tried to figure out before her eyes lit up.

“I have the perfect place! Come on Blaise, you’re gonna love it.” she exclaimed before taking off down the street, dragging him along with her. He smiled fondly at her letting her lead the way.

“This something I could get used to.” he muttered, trying his best to keep up with her pace.

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

About 10 minutes later, they arrived in front of what looked to be a bookstore. Blaise looked around, swiping his fingers across the dusty books. “Welcome to the place where I spend most of my time when coming to Hogsmeade. It may look like just a bookstore but you’ll see why it's not in just a minute.” she said. Blaise watched as the girl got on her hands and knees and began to crawl making a ‘spspsps’ noise. He was confused, rightfully so but he didn’t question her actions. All of a sudden, a floof of white fur came crawling over to the girl purring as she scratched behind its ears.

 “It’s a cat bookstore! How cool is that? There’s a bunch of these little guys just running around here.” she said, standing up with the kitten in her hands. Blaise’s heart beat wildly at the sight. She looked too cute with the kitten in her hand, holding it gently against her soft chest. He was brought from his thoughts as he felt something brush against his leg. He had to stop himself from losing it at the sight of the little calico cat brushing against his leg.

“Hi there little guy.” he cooed softly, reaching a hand down to pet the cat’s head. The cat jumped up to meet his hand before it could land, nuzzling its fuzzy little head against the boy's head as he purred loudly.

“That’s not the only thing. They also carry some muggle literature too! Don’t tell anyone though, it’s a secret.” she said, placing the kitten down as she began to browse the books on the old wooden shelves. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” he promised, eyes never leaving her curvy figure. She looked right at home in the book store, reading the titles like they were old friends. “I’m a bit of a muggle literature fan myself. Ever heard of Shakespear?” he asked. (Y/n) looked at him with wide eyes before nodding. She would’ve never expected that from the man, knowing how against all things muggle related purebloods slytherins were. He walked over to her tilting her head up as he looked into her eyes. “ What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” he whispered, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip. Her breath hitched slightly as she began to scowl as he walked off laughing some.

“Jerk! That was not funny.” she said, punching him in the arm as she glared up at him.

“Wasn’t supposed to be, love. You just look too cute when you’re nervous!”

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

It had been a few weeks since their date and (Y/n) was starting to grow nervous. She and Blaise hadn’t been on another one and it confused her deeply. She had an amazing time on their date, in fact it had been the best one she had ever been on! Did he not feel the same? Maybe he had commitment issues? It couldn’t have been her. No, she had done everything right. She spoke well mannered, bantered back and forth with him, and she looked bloody amazing.

She sighed, opening the door to her dorm. It had been a long week. She threw off her robes before turning to her dresser before gasping. On top of the dresser laid a huge painting surrounded in a beautiful antique golden frame. She hesitantly walked over to it, brushing her fingers along it before looking at the note attached. Opening the wax sealed envelope she began reading the note out loud.

“My dearest rose, how are you? I apologize deeply for my lack of presence. Not being near you for so long deeply hurt me so but it was not in vain. You see, after spending such a lovely time with you that day, I felt extremely inspired. Your beauty deserves to be captured in something far more grand than a simple photograph so I painted you this. I hope to see you soon. To my greatest muse, Blaise Zabini.” she smiled as she read the words, goosebumps going up her arms. Blaise was indeed a talented artist. In photo realistic detail was a large painting of her smiling with the white kitten from before in her hands. She was lost for words. Never had someone done something so amazing for her. “Do I really look this beautiful? Is this how he sees me?” she asked no one in particular.

“It is and you are. You’re absolutely gorgeous.” she jumped at the sound of the deep voice. Turning her head she saw the man she had been thinking of for weeks. Slowly she walked over to him, smiling before wrapping her arms around him hugging him tightly. Blaise froze for a bit, not used to receiving such gentle forms of affection. He pulled back before placing a soft peck on her lips.

“Let me take you out again tomorrow, yeah?” he asked her in a soft tone. She simply nodded before standing on her tiptoes initiating another lovely kiss. Blaise wrapped his arms around her soft waist, bringing her closer to him.

“I really am one lucky bloke.”

[youngbugandtonystank]

And now anti Tony people are blaming him for letting Sam’s family being in financial trouble wtf the man is dead! Let him rest!

Yeah, I saw. 

They’re definitely going to keep doing that, gotta say, the MCU never failed with Tony's character, they created circumstances for him exactly just like Stan envisioned. The ‘love-to-hate’ trope is strong when it comes to him, this is what Stan wanted out of Tony Stark's relationship with his fans/audience. Thing is, the reality of the MCU superhero is that they’re all flawed. None of them are exempt from anything. Why Tony gets more hate than the others?

He’s the most popular character. There’s no discussion in this instance. Popular superheroes that first come to people’s minds are always Batman, Iron Man and Spider-Man. Tony Stark/Iron Man is a pop culture legend and the fact that RDJ got to portray him as great as he did, helped a lot. People are always going to circle back to the character who has more hype and audience. 

He’s the one with the money. The fact that Tony is swimming in money automatically makes him the target of the ‘eat the rich’ mentality. People fail to remember that other characters such as T’Challa (who has more money than Tony would ever wish to see and lives in the most technologically advanced country in the world), Shuri, Thor (a literal king with a kingdom), The Pym family, Danny Rand (he has a net worth of $5 billion and is one of the richest comic book characters of all time), etc exist. And we still haven’t seen the other Marvel characters (in the MCU) that are richer than Tony like Reed Richards, Professor X, Warren Worthington, Norman Osborn, Namor, Doctor Doom, etc. 

Even if some of us see RDJ as attractive and good looking, some people don’t. For them, RDJ is nothing compared to Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Sebastian Stan, etc. It’s easier to hate a character you don’t find attractive. And also the fact that they find those actors relatively younger than RDJ. 

It’s the most shippable character. This also means he must be in the way of some other ships. Even if this sounds unbelievable, many people don’t get their irrational hate for a character until it dawns on them that they only hate him because he either treated one half of their ship unfairly or because he’s in the way of that ship. The more reasons they can find to hate him, the more legitimate their senseless hatred seems in their minds.

People don’t call out characters like T’Challa or Shuri because they’re scared of being called ‘racist’. T’Challa is so rich that Howard Stark could only buy (just an assumption, it’s a possibility he stole the vibranium lmao) only a portion of vibranium to build Steve’s shield, and because is the world’s most indestructible material, his worth is approximately $10,000 a gram (Fantastic Four #607) and Wakanda's vaults hold 10,000 tons of the material (Doomwar #1) T’Challa is not a billionaire, he’s a trillionaire lmaoooo everyone else is a joke compared to him.

Even having all of this info, Tony and T’Challa owe nothing to anyone.

T’Challa helped Bucky because of his principles (Tony offered to do this at the beginning as well until of course, he found out he killed his parents) but because of that, that doesn't mean T’Challa owes Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha money or housing assistance. He didn't give it to them at all and he doesn’t have to. 

James Rhodes: Well. You guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.

Sam Wilson: Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star.

Wanna know why? Because T’Challa knows they’re adults and they make their own decisions. Sam chose to be on Steve’s side, Wanda did too, Natasha too, etc. Adults make decisions and they should deal with the consequences that come with that. Tony was not going to deal with their financial problems because they made a choice and it’s not his problem to deal with. Tony is not their father. People need to ask themselves why Sam was not in the ‘lift the hammer’ scene after the party, because he wasn’t familiar with them, he wasn’t friends with Tony, only with Steve. Besides that fact, they all fought Tony, hurt his best friend, and left him to deal with the rest in CW. They’re not family.

Sam Wilson: No, I'm not actually sorry. I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons case. Avenging is your world. Your world is crazy. Steve Rogers: Be it ever so humble. Sam Wilson: You find a place in Brooklyn yet? Steve Rogers: I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn. Sam Wilson: Well, home is home, you know?

There’s absolutely no reason Steve can’t afford a place. He’s an adult, he has a good reputation, he worked for shield (why aren’t yall on Nick Fury’s ass if he had Steve and the others as employees? Fury set an entire place for Clint, why can’t he do it for the rest of them, he is the founder of the Avengers after all), and was pretty much capable of doing stuff for others. Tony provided them with a home while they were working together, he doesn’t need to concern himself with their personal problems because they’re not actual friends. Rhodey is his friend. Happy is his friend. Also consider the fact that maybe Sam didn’t want his help? 

And let’s also take into consideration that Tony is not only an Avenger, but Tony is also a businessman, an inventor, an engineer, has a company to keep an eye on, he is the one who finances the Avengers’ messes and other superhero messes too by co-owning the department of damage control, etc. He has other things to do. The rest of the Avengers are adults too, they should seek a job that could give them a future too, not just depend on Tony’s money. Tony had a family and he had to make sure they were covered after his death, this includes, Pepper (his wife, therefore she gets his stuff), Peter (his son, he left him EDITH, he’s basically set for life with that given the A.I. has access to the majority of his things including bank accounts), Morgan (his daughter; his responsibility), Happy and Rhodey (I’m sure we’ll see what he left them in Armor Wars). Why? They’re his actual family. 

If some of you know this and you’re still looking for reasons to put the blame on him, you’re failing to recognize you’re obsessed with hating Tony just for the sake of being right. Wouldn’t you like a life where you don’t have to constantly look for reasons to hate on a fictional character, better yet, a character you don’t like at all. Why the effort? You can love Tony and Sam at the same time, I promise you, this is not going to kill you. 

So please, instead of whining about Tony Stark all the time, why don’t yall just enjoy the fact that the show is showing you a vital and important event that happens in life while representing a part of Sam’s life to add to his emotional depth and character development? Especially because he’s a superhero and possibly the next Captain America, it’s good to see someone who is supposed to be a figure (superhero) whose actions or achievements are far greater than what people expect deal with normal things. They’re giving you a background; a solid storyline for his character. Let it be. Enjoy the shows yall, you can’t keep coming back to blame Tony for everything that happens after every single movie or Disney+ show, look for another metaphorical punching bag. The man is dead. 

[bakugohoex]

can you please write a fic where youre aizawas' wife and you're pregnant with twins, and while he's in the middle of teaching at UA you go into labor and you call him, and he leaves in the middle of their class, (the class dosen't know he's married and obviously dosen't know he's about to become a father) and the class thinks that something's seriously wrong because they saw panic on his face for a slight second when he got the call, so they end up following him to the hospital only to see him sniling and holding two newborn babies that look just like him and the woman who is on the hospital bed (you) and theyre in shock when they find out that you're his wife and those are his kids, but what shocks them most is the big smile on his face when he was holding his babies 🥺 idk i thought it would be cute

“did he steal two babies?”

pairing: shouta aizawa x female reader

cw: language, fluff

word count: 3000+

a/n: i live for domestic one shots, i might write some more depending on how i’m feeling, hope you guys like this have a happy new years eve people, the stupid tags arent working so if you could reblog it it would mean a lot 

summary: in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Eight months, eight full fucking months of carrying Aizawa’s little spawns. Having spent your last term of pregnancy on bed rest, it had been the worst term ever, you would rather have taken the puking up last nights dinner then staying in bed. Even Aizawa had gotten annoyed with how frustrated you had got, you craved how he could get up and leave for work. You hadn’t gone into work since your maternity leave started and you were annoyed, being a pro hero it had been worse.

As soon as you told the agency you were pregnant, you were desk bound, unable to go on patrols. It was fucking annoying and you hated every second of it, and all Aizawa could do was smirk at your frustration. “I’m due any day now, just leave work and stay with me.” You plead grabbing the material from his neck, you wanted him to hold you. You already felt gross staying in bed 24/7 but now you didn’t have your husband beside you 24/7.

“Kitten, this is my last day, I’ll spend the rest of the pregnancy with you.” You were grouchy letting go of him and turning your head to face away for him. “Y/n.”

He tried to gain your attention but ignored him, “you should’ve gotten pregnant as well you’d understand.”

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he crept his arms around your body, his hand resting on the baby bump. You shuffled closer to his body, before turning your head to see him softly rubbing back and forth across the bump.

“Be patient, my love.” It was a whisper which brought you comfort.

“If you’re not home by 4pm then I’m locking you out of the house.” You threaten.

He looks down at you with your fiery eyes, “sure you are.” He kisses the top of your head; you pout wanting a proper kiss. He looks at how perfect you looked with his babies, when you both found out you were having twins, the small apartment you had called home since dating. Had gone and a house in the country close enough to UA and still for you to do pro hero work was where the both of you had situated.

Your relationship have been very secretive, a small wedding ceremony which had been perfect with your family and friends. Of course people had noticed you had gone MIA but one day you’d come out and tell the world how you and Aizawa were an inseparable family.

He moved to capture your lips, grabbing his face you wanted to just drag him back to bed. But he quickly moved out of your grip, “patience Y/n.”

“Shouta.” You whine like a child would.

“Seems like ill be raising three babies now.” He mocked putting the scarf around his yellow goggles.

“I hope you break your goggles.” You huff again, he doesn’t speak only kissing your temple after the small peck he had given to your lips.

He starts to walk out the bedroom, your wedding photo situated on the cabinet. You were perfect back then and now with his kids inside of you, you became somehow even more perfect. He had never thought that the woman he had met all those years ago, who had showed of her quirk to the whole world would be the one he fell in love with.

He looked back at you, you were grumpy due to hormones but once the babies were out you knew you’d go back to being yourself (and both of you could fuck properly, but that was just a bonus.)

“Make sure to walk around the house.” He warns.

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “and what if I don’t, will you come home early?” Your extra clinginess melted his insides, he knew how bored your loud self was and being cooped up inside had took a toll on you.

“I’ll come home early.” The sound of your squeal lifted his spirits, it was adorable, and he loved how easily your mood changed. Your face was full, and you had something to look forward too as he left the room.

The day for Aizawa had been smooth sailing, having asked to leave at 2pm and being able to, he had been with the students whilst they were training. He could imagine teaching his kids everything to do with this world, he couldn’t wait for his own leave, to spend time with his future babies but also with his loving wife.

The sound of Bakugo shouting was something else he had gotten used to; how could a 16-year-old boy be louder than the babies he had heard on those stupid pregnancy videos you made him watch. You had shown him a woman giving birth and to say it was the weirdest thing he’s ever seen; he’d happily watch stuff go inside of you but the other way round was another issue.

He stood watching over them, they had gotten a lot stronger in the months and the events that had occurred. It was another reason for the secrecy, having to hide your relationship to prevent disaster from happening. He watched the time tick away; another two more hours and he could leave and spend the rest of the trimester with you.

The sound of running caught his ears, he looked up and saw Principle Nezu walking towards him. “Agh Aizawa, we got a call from your wife’s mother.”

He hadn’t checked his phone, but if your mother had been calling it must’ve been something serious, the class had noticed the principle and had gotten quiet even Bakugo who wanted to know why the principle was here.

“Finally, you answered, she’s going into labour.” He heard on the other liner, he was in shock, his phone dropping to the side.

“Sh…She what?” It was early, of course you both knew about early pregnancies but this he had just spoken you a couple hours ago and now here you were about to go into labour.

“In labour, her water broke whilst I came to see her.” He could hear you screaming on the other side, how you must’ve been in pain, he knew you had been dilated a couple days ago but this, this was sooner than he had expected.

Nezu got the hint that something had happened and so had the class, a flash of worry across Aizawa’s face. “We’ll send the students back to the dorms.” He was calm and Aizawa quickly rushed out of the gym, leaving nothing else to say. He needed to make it to the hospital as quick as he could, in an instant he called your mother.

“Is she okay?” He had ran outside going to his car to quickly rush to the hospital.

He heard screaming which he assumed was you, ���she’s grouchy…”

Before he could hear the rest of what your mother said, he heard you shout, “if that’s my idiot of a husband tell him to get to the fucking hospital.” It was a wail and he regretted not taking the day off.

“Y/n.” Her mother scowled, “we’re at the hospital, I’ll text you the room.” Is all her mother said before hanging up. Aizawa was stressed to say the least but what he hadn’t seen through the chaos was class 1A following him.

The class had seen the worry and panic before he jolted out of the room, “you all are dismissed for the day.” Nezu spoke before leaving.

“What do you think happened?” Momo questioned worried.

“He seemed in a hurry; it was probably something important.” Kirishima retorted back.

The class watched him on the phone the question of ‘is she okay?’ being heard. “Who do you think he’s talking about?” Mina asked.

“Why do you lot care so much?” Bakugo angrily said pissed that training had been cut early.

“He’s our teacher, what if something bad happened Kacchan.” Midoriya answered but it just fuelled Bakugo’s anger.

“We should follow him.” Denki suggested. “It might be serious and if people need help, we can help.”

They nodded, all assuming it had something to do with hero work, seeing Aizawa in his car, they started to follow him on foot, “we should’ve taken one of the buses.” Bakugo scowled following.

“We cant drive.” Kirishima muttered back.

Bakugo huffed following them all on the long walk, it was easy enough to keep following due to the mass traffic occurring. Aizawa having got the room number, he didn’t care for his surroundings, his eyes fixated on the road.

He finally saw the sign for the hospital and breathed out hoping you hadn’t gotten into labour yet. “Why is he at a hospital?” Ururaka questioned, “do you think someone got hurt?”

“Maybe we should go back.” Momo said not wanting to intrude on something that could have no villainous intent.

“Shut up extra’s, we’re already here.” Bakugo muttered walking to the entrance, they all followed the angry boy who glared at the children coming out of that ward.

“When did you care about the injured?” Kirishima questioned the blond.

“I don’t, you dragged me with you so now we’re staying.” For one thing the boy was persistent.

Across the hospital, Aizawa had ran to the room and saw your eyes filled with fury, your mother holding your hand as he could see how much pain you were in. “Look what the cat dragged in.” You scowled in pain.

“You can take over now.” Is all her mother said, going outside and waiting. He took her place and in an instance your hands had grabbed his.

“You must be the husband, I’ll be helping your wife, can you wear these?” The doctor spoke passing the blue overall type to keep his clothes covered, Aizawa obliged still holding your hand. “Mrs Aizawa you’re about 9cm dilated once you get to 10cm I’m going to tell you to push, okay?”

You were breathless and felt dreary, it would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the fact you were having twins. You knew you’d go through even more pain then normal and in that moment felt scared.

“Hey kitten, look at me, you’ll do amazing.” Aizawa tried to be encouraging but even he was scared for all three of you.

“It hurts.” You tried to hide the tears, but it mixed in with the sweat.

“I know kitten, but you can grab onto me as hard as you want.” He smiles moving the strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“10cm’s.” One of the nurses spoke out, the doctor nodded before looking at the angry you and calm husband.

“Mrs Aizawa you need to start pushing.” The pain was excruciating, you tried to push your grip on Aizawa’s hands becoming tighter. It was the worst pain you’d gone through and you’d been stabbed before.

Aizawa gave words of encouragement but all you wanted to do was tell him to shut up, tears cascaded down your face whilst pushing. “I see a head.” The doctor spoke, “keep pushing.”

You pushed a long with what the nurses had told you, in time to make sure you weren’t just randomly pushing. Aizawa was the first to see it, first to see the baby come out, it was quiet before wailing out loud, it was his turn to cry. The baby being placed on your chest before the doctor continued, “one more push, let’s get the other one out.”

You felt the first baby on your ski grabbing your neck as you kept on pushing, “I don’t want too.” You cried out but seeing Aizawa and how he looked at the baby on your chest you knew you needed too.

“Come on kitten, one more push.” He spoke a loud, you suppresses the tears before feeling another hard push come and the head of another baby erupt out of you. The doctor but the second baby on your chest, both their crying having stopped.

They stayed on you, you let go of Aizawas hand as the doctor told him he could cut the umbilical cord, he happily obliged before looking at the two babies that you both had created. They were smaller then normal and there eyes were tightly shut clinging onto their new mother.

“We need to weigh and clean them.” The doctor spoke as two nurses took the babies ready to put tags on them, the oldest had been a boy and the youngest a girl. You missed there touch and hold wanting to hold them again but watching them being taken out.

“We did it.” You spoke sleepily as you felt yourself being cleaned up and ready to be moved into another room.

“Yeah, we did.” Aizawa spoke going in to kiss your temple, “we’re parents.”

Tears brimmed his eyes; this normal dry flat facial features had become happier and all he could think about was how you looked with his two children. How he had gotten a family that he had never expected to have had.

Being moved to a different room, Aizawa followed sitting on the chair beside you. You saw the two babies come back to you both, in an instance they were placed back into your arms. “You can hold them?”

You had seen Aizawa’s hesitance to even touch the babies, but he knew how to do it and with ease they both were situated in his arms. You could hear your mother outside, she seemed to be talking to some people, but you ignored it watching at how Aizawa’s eyes welled up at the two babies.

“Where are my grandchildren?” Your mother spoke a loud before having heart eyes at how Aizawa was holding your babies.

“Mum, please be quieter.”

“Hey, I had to handle your screams, let me be happy, they look adorable with their father.” She spoke moving to the bed.

“They really do.” You both watched him look at the two children, a tear falling from his face.

Your mother turned back to you and she smiled at you, “I’m proud of you.” You give a nod holding her hand before she speaks, “have you two got any na…”

Before she could continue you hear the door open with the doctor coming in, “it seems you two have more visitors.”

You were both confused on the matter, nobody really knew you had gone into pregnancy except your parents and his and your father was still at work whilst his parents were out of town. It was unexpected but your eyes widen when you see the group of 16-year olds.

“They were wondering around the hospital.” The doctor speaks, Aizawa hadn’t noticed his students, but you and your mother had.

The kids were in shock at seeing a pro hero in a hospital bed but there eyes went to Aizawa’s he had been looking at his babies, unaware of his surroundings.

Nobody spoke instead just watching Aizawa interact with the two new-born babies, a smile placed on his normal flat self. “Did he steal two babies?” You hear one of them whisper, you instantly begin to speak after that.

“Shouta.” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He was so out of dazed but once he turns to face them all, he’s in shock as well.

“I’ll leave you to handle this.” Your mother leaves not wanting to have to explain this scenario.

Aizawa was still in shock, you reach out for one of the babies, he passes you the youngest, who starts to grab at your fingers. He sits holding the boy, before the class start cascading you both in questions.

“Are they yours?”, “How do you know Pro Hero Y/n?”, “Who is she to you?”

Aizawa looks at them and then at his family, you nod a sign that he could tell them everything, “This is my wife, and these are our new kids.”

It was a simple but effective, the class in shock that there homeroom teacher who seemed to be detached had you the loving pro hero as a wife, but even more now had two kids.

“Congratulations.” They all spoke a loud. It was rehearsed and you could tell that it all came out due to shock.

“What are you doing here anyway, I thought we said go back to the dorms.” Aizawa scowled.

“Baby, it’s fine, it’s good they found out anyway, since you wont be teaching them for a bit.” You calmed the man down.

He shakes his head at how easily you calmed him down, “you’re an amazing pro hero.” Midoriya spoke a loud, you thanked him before they didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ll go call Nezu, he can get you back to UA.” Aizawa muttered handing you the other child as he left the room.

“You married Aizawa.” Mina spoke a loud everybody looked at her, “what? We were all thinking it?”

You laugh looking at them all, “yes I did.”

“And you slept with him.” Mina continued with ever more eyes growing wider.

You continued to laugh, “that is how I got pregnant.”

“What are their names?” Ururaka asked coming towards the two kids.

You sat upright, letting them have a closer look, they all came forward even Bakugo who saw children as devils spawn. They were fresh out and anew, so pure and innocent as they tugged onto your hair.

“We haven’t decided yet.” You said looking at the two kids, you notice Aizawa at the door looking at the class as they surrounded you and the babies. The way they were quieter than they had ever been around two new-borns, they spent time asking questions and looking at the two babies. Before being dragged back to UA, all smiling happily at having spent the afternoon with two new-borns.

“They look like you.” You mutter sleepily, the two babies being put to sleep on the other sides of the room. “We made them.”

“I love you.” He whispers kissing you softly, you kiss back, happily at the new family you had and Aizawa finally realised what his happiness was. You and your two babies were all he ever needed now.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world

[kuiperblog]

The first 1% is always the hardest

Usually, the hardest part of acquiring a new skill is starting it for the first time.

When you’re at an intermediate level of progression, you can usually just increase your skill level by incrementing up the difficulty linearly.  If you’re a novice weightlifter and your best overhead press is 125 lbs, try adding 5 lbs to the bar and see if you can overhead press 130 lbs. (If not, keep lifting 125 lbs every few days until that becomes “easy,” then challenge yourself with 130 lbs again.)  If you can do 10 push-ups, you will probably reach the point where you can do 11 push-ups, and 12 push-ups, and 15 push-ups, and 25 push-ups, and so on.  The hardest part of lifting is day 1, when you might be performing certain motions for the first time in your life, and challenging your body to work muscles that you didn’t even realize existed.

I imagine the same is true of other fitness regimens: once you’re able to run a 9 minute mile, you probably have what it takes to run a 8:30 mile, or a 8 minute mile, if you keep at it.  Eventually you’ll hit a plateau and the limits of human performance, but the first day in the gym is always the hardest.

This is sort of how the trajectory of my writing career went.  And having talked to artist friends, and musicians, it seems like all of them followed a similar trend: they found a thing, they stuck with it, and over time found themselves advancing along that path bit by bit.  It became a hobby or a routine such that over time, by  by investing a bit more time, or a bit more effort, or challenging themselves a tiny bit more, they got better at it.  And over years, the compounding returns of that meant that the girl who got a drawing tablet at age 14 found that by the time she was 22 years old, she had enough artistic skill to make enough money from her art to make a living.

I think that in a lot of cases, people were able to start down that path of gradual self-improvement in part because they were able to somehow bypass the hardest part of it -- they blazed right through the initial difficulty without even realizing it.  They couldn’t even really answer the question of “When did you start drawing,” because they’ve always been drawing since the days that they were just doodling with pencil in paper at school. Maybe they just really enjoyed playing outdoors as a kid, and played soccer because it was fun, and made the seamless transition to being a high school athlete. In my case, I spent a lot of time writing long-winded forum posts explaining the finer points of topics I was passionate about (which, at age 13, was mostly Pokemon and Final Fantasy), and somehow by my 20′s I had enough of a penchant for explaining things that I was able to parley that into a writing career (so I can get paid for my long-winded explanations of Pokemon-related topics).

The early days of learning to write kind of sucked and were difficult.  (For starters, remember how unintuitive that QWERTY keyboard was the first time that you learned to type? Remember how painful it was to hunt-and-peck your way through sentences at an effective rate of <10 words per minute?)  But my desire to talk about Pokemon on message boards overwhelmed any difficulty or “suckiness” involved with learning to express my ideas through text, and so the suckiness of those early days wasn’t really much of an obstacle.

More and more, I’ve come to believe that the most important part of learning a new skill is finding a way to get over that initial difficulty hump -- of finding a way to survive the first day, and then the first week, and then the first month, and eventually reach a point where inertia carries you forward on a gradual upward slope of self-improvement where you’re not even consciously thinking too hard about improvement; you just randomly muse to yourself one day, “Oh yeah, this barbell I’m picking up weighs about 100 lbs more than the barbell I was lifting a year ago. Fancy that.” The longer you keep at it, the easier it is to stick with it.

In many corners of the internet, there’s an oft-repeated adage that “Watching anime won’t teach you to speak or understand Japanese.”  And sure, that’s obviously true on some level. If someone is thinking they’re going to spend a thousand hours watching subtitled anime, and then one day flip off the subtitles and be able to follow everything without missing a beat, they’re probably a bit delusional. If you want to actually achieve anything approaching Japanese fluency, you’re probably going to have to take a Japanese learning course, and engaged in spaced repetition to pick up and retain vocabulary, and all of the other stuff that goes into learning any language.

But I think that watching anime does provide you with one big advantage: it goes a long way toward helping you cross that “day 1″ hump. Because the first day is always the hardest. Going from 0 to 1 is harder than increasing your vocabulary by a few new words every week.  Before you can get the compounding returns from incrementally improving at a skill, you have to have a starting principle.  And I think that watching anime is actually quite good for that, because only knowing “weeaboo Japanese” will give you 20-30% of the vocabulary that’s included in your first couple Japanese lessons.

I’m speaking from personal experience: it’s incredibly heartening to go through a lesson and encounter words that I’m already familiar with.  Even if my fluency in “weeaboo Japanese” only covers 10% of what’s introduced in a given lesson, having a head start gives me an intangible confidence boost which makes it easier for me to focus on and retain the other 90%.

I don’t want to understate the importance of that intangible confidence boost: a lot of language acquisition is getting comfortable with a language, and repeating something so much that you do it without even thinking about it. For example, in English, sometimes sometimes someone might ask you “how’s it going?” and you might answer “fine” before your brain has even consciously registered the meaning of what you were hearing, or saying. And I’m enough of a weeb that I can hear i tenki desu ne and immediately reflexively respond with sou desu ne, before my brain has even consciously registered the question being asked (sometimes taking several seconds to mentally backtrack and realize, “Oh right, the “i tenki” part means “nice weather.”).  But years and years of listening and pattern recognition have taught me that when someone ends a sentence in desu ne? with the sort of inflection that says “I’m asking you a rhetorical question,” the proper response is probably sou desu ne, and my brain produces that response just as reflexively as it spits out “I’m doing fine, how about you?” any time someone asks “How’s it going?”)

One thing I’ve come to notice is that every lesson begins with some of some amount of review, giving you that spaced repetition, and providing context for the new words and concepts that the lesson is about to introduce, and generally provide a foundation for the new material.  Day 1 is, by necessity, the exception -- how can you “review” material that you’ve never covered before?  But for me, the day 1 lessons on how to say nihongo and arigato and watashi and anata were already “review” of topics that I picked up through years of being a weeb.

Besides that, there’s the fact that the structural elements of Japanese are something that my brain was naturally able to grok in a way that is intuitive to me after spending years listening to spoken Japanese even though most of it is contextual. (Like, I’m not sure when this happened, but at a certain point I think my brain just kind of learned, when listening to Japanese sentences, to approximate which parts were the verb and where certain clauses landed in the sentence, if only because when watching anime with subtitles you become consciously aware of when a character’s name appears in the dialog.) I’m not really consciously thinking about it, which kind of feels like the “natural” way to learn a language.  (After all, it’s not as if native English speakers, as toddlers, consciously think to themselves, “Ah, it seems as though English typically follows a subject-verb-object grammar structure.” Kids just listen to adults speaking English and form sentences that way without really having to be formally taught.)

It’s highly likely that at some point in my internet career that I have at one point been the cynical message board poster telling someone that, contrary to their fantasies, watching anime isn’t going to help them learn Japanese in any real or material way, and if I’ve ever suggested that, it’s time for me to eat crow.  Because while the advantage that “weeaboo-level Japanese” gives you might be small, and only help you on the first few days of Japanese class, those are the most important days, because the first 1% is always the hardest.

My familiarity with “weeaboo-level Japanese” has only given me one disadvantage, and that is that years of memes have poisoned my brain to the point where the first I was prompted with “say ‘excuse me’ in Japanese,” my brain (and mouth) immediately spat out “sorrymasen,” and I wish I could say it only happened once, but it wasn’t until around day 3 that I managed to fully train this habit out of myself.

[highfaelucien]

Hmmm maybe lucien and elain playing with nyx and elain marveling at how good lucien is with children...

@bow-dawn also requested "give us elain watching lucien playing with nyx and that warms her heart enough to have a talk about their mating bond 😭" Everybody wants Lucien with babies because they know he's baby catnip. And I have no idea how children work but an attempt is gonna be made!!!!

send me ship prompts! platonic or otherwise!

Elain's arms were starting to get sore. Even with her being fae now. Arms that had stabbed the King of Hybern were somehow unequal to holding one small Ilyrian baby.

He was a very important baby, to be sure. Since he was her nephew. And the son of the two most powerful people in Prythian's history. Or so everyone kept saying.

Maybe he knew that. He was certainly doing everything in his power to make sure the whole of the Night Court, maybe the whole of Prythian, was aware of him right now, with the racket he was making.

They weren't sure which powers of his parents' the babe would inherit yet, he was too young. But he had an incredibly potent pair of lungs, of that she was sure of.

She'd been holding him for what felt like decades, bouncing him in her arms and trying to soothe him. He had managed to wear through her considerable patience, and she was now bordering on the edge of desperation.

This was her first time babysitting by herself. Feyre and Rhys had trusted her with their son, and she couldn't get him to stop crying! She was a terrible aunt. What kind of mother would she be? Unable to comfort her flesh and blood.

That thought made her stomach plummet. Had she lived out that other life, the one she sometimes saw reflected mockingly back at her in mirrors and pools, and married Greysen...She'd likely already be a mother. Would probably have at least one baby of her own.

She pushed that thought away before she joined Nyx in his crying.

"Cauldron boil me, Feyre!" A voice called from the stairs leading up to the roof where she'd taken Nyx hoping some fresh air might calm him. "What in the name of the Mother are you doing to that hellspawn child to make him scream that way?"

The voice was familiar, but unexpected. But she barely had a moment to process that before the door banged open and she found herself staring at Lucien.

"Oh," they said simultaneously.

Then Lucien, his cheeks changing colour to match his hair, said, looking abashed, "Lady Elain, please forgive me. I, I expected to find Feyre up here."

"I can tell," Elain said, giving him a little smile, "By the way you were shouting her name."

"Yes, well," Lucien muttered, looking rather flustered.

She found she quite liked that look on him. She always tended to see him as the polished, silver-tongued courtier, always composed and prepared to handle anything.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be up here. I would not have spoken to you that way if I'd known you weren't Feyre," he said, with a bow.

"Why not?" Elain said, cocking her head to one side, "I'm not some delicate flower that can't handle hearing curse words, you know," she told him, almost defiantly, "Amren has taught me many new ones. Cassian showed me how to do it in Illyrian. Rhys can be quite inventive when he's grumpy. And when all that fails, I can always just fall back on the word fuck."

He blinked at her, then grinned broadly, "Shockingly, I don't make a habit of cursing at people that I don't know all that well. Feyre and I are good friends, so she has earned my fragrant cursing at her."

"She's also High Lady of the Night Court," Elain said, raising her eyebrows, "With more power than anyone in Prythian's history has held in a long time."

Lucien waved an idle hand, "I knew her before she became all Made and Rhysandish," he told her, "Once you've seen someone puke faerie wine into a fountain of the mother at the Solstice it's hard to see them as too grand to curse at anymore."

Elain giggled at that, then winced, as that apparently seemed to upset Nyx even more.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at them, "Cursing aside," he said, leaning idly against the wall, "My question about that one still stands - what by the Cauldron have you done to him?"

"Lots of things!" Elain said, her voice snapping a little bit, "I've fed him, and I've changed him, and burped him. I've tried to put him down for a nap. I've tried to rock him, and bounce him, as swoosh him side to side. I've talked to him, and I've sung to him, and I've begged him and he still. Won't. Stop. Crying!"

Lucien smiled slightly, which made her want to smack him, because this was absolutely not funny, and she felt tears of frustration starting in her eyes.

"Feyre and Rhys trusted me to look after him on my own and I can't get him to stop crying! I don't know what I'm doing wrong," she confessed hopelessly.

"May I hold him for a moment?" Lucien asked.

Elain hesitated a moment. But Feyre had let him hold her son before. She had seen tears in his eyes when he'd done so, and it had bridged some connection between them that had never fully healed since the war. She didn't think her sister would protest, as long as she was still here.

And she was so tired. Her arms were so sore, and Nyx was becoming a very heavy and dense weight in her arms. So she nodded gratefully, eagerly pushing the little bundle into Lucien's arms.

Lucien held him with a surprising ease, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. A broad, genuine smile spread across his face as he peered down at him, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

Nyx peered up at him. Elain expected this to trigger an increase in the volume of his howling, but, incredibly, he quieted almost at once, seemingly entranced by Lucien's face, his glinting metal eye.

"There we are," Lucien said, smiling, but raised a finger as Nyx started grumbling again, "Now, now, we won't be having any of that," he told him calmly, "Ah, you have wings, don't you? Let's see then..."

Lucien carried him over to the table, unwrapped his blankets. Before Elain could protest about the cold, he rewrapped him, but gently extended his wings first, and curled them around his little body, securing them in place around him with his blankets.

"You know about babies with wings?" Elain asked, bemused.

Lucien nodded, "Certainly," he said, then seemed to consider, "Not Illyrians, and not Rhys-spawn," Elain giggled against her will, "But I'm hoping the principles are the same."

He scooped him up and bounced him. Nyx actually giggled at him, the little monster.

"How did you do that!?" she demanded, peering down at the baby, who was now lifting his chubby little hands and grabbing, as if trying to catch the glinting eye above him.

Lucien smirked, "I have a known gift," he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Elain would have whacked him for that, if he hadn't been holding her baby nephew.

"You, you've been around a lot of babies?" she asked.

Nothing in his history, though admittedly she knew little of it, had implied that babysitting had been a big part of it.

"Oh yes," he said, very seriously, "Fae with troublesome younglings came to me from all over Prythian, every court, lesser and high alike so that I could use my gifts and soothe them."

Elain put her hands on her hips and growled at him, "Don't you bullshit me Lucien," she said, as sternly as she could, poking a finger into his chest.

He snickered, still grinning at her, shifting Nyx slightly in his arms as he started to fuss again, "I have a very big family," he said, shrugging.

"I thought you were the youngest of your brothers," she said, frowning.

Lucien nodded, "True," he confirmed, "But I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and friends," he added, with a flicker of some emotion she couldn't quite read. He took a breath and added, "Regardless, they all felt that, as the Lord's seventh son, I didn't have anything better to do with my time than babysit all of their offspring. I've had a reasonable amount of practice."

"Well you saved me today," Elain said, collapsing into the seat that Rhys always liked to sit and brood in, overlooking the Sidra, "I don't know what I did wrong," she muttered, bracing her chin in her hands and sighing dejectedly.

Lucien cautiously approached, Nyx still cradled in his arms, and sat in the seat next to her, also glancing out over the city. "If it helps," he said, "You did everything right. Sometimes babes are just tricksy little bastards," he said with a shrug,

She frowned, trying to determine if he was patronising her.

"They like to be dramatic and seek for attention," Lucien told her calmly, "Especially when they have Rhysand, Night Discomfort, Death Irritate, the most dramatic bastard to ever spread drama, as their father" he added in a lofty voice that acutally sounded uncannily like Rhys.

Elain stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself snorting as she laughed.

"He is very dramatic," she agreed, tickling Nyx's tummy.

Lucien smiled down fondly at the babe, and for all his comments about him being dramatic, there was a tenderness in his face she had never seen before from him.

It made him look younger. His face was still scarred and strange, with that mechanical eye, but there was a gentleness in him she hadn't seen from most fae in her time in Prythian, it made her feel safe and calm.

Nyx started fussing a little again, and Lucien hushed him, and fluttered his fingers in the air above him. Little lights appeared above him, circling like a mobile and flashing different colours.

Elain let out a little gasp of delight watching him, which was echoed by Nyx.

Lucien glanced up at her, a wry smile on his lips as he said, "My magic isn't particularly powerful or impressive, but it's very good for entertaining infants."

"I think it's beautiful," Elain said, quiet, but sincere.

Lucien smiled.

Then he turned his head back to Nyx, tickling him with his free hand while the lights continued to circle, swooping down and booping the child on the nose, causing him to giggle.

Elain felt a sudden pulse of warmth and joy blossom in her chest like a swelling rose, and she let out a little, "Oh!"

Lucien glanced up at her, startled, "Are you alright?"

She put a hand to her chest, without breaking eye contact with him, "I, I fel you," she said quietly.

"I apologise," he said, looking truly sorrowful, "I usually keep better control of myself, but being around you makes that more difficult."

The little river of his joy faded away as he closed off the bond on his end.

"No!" she cried, with a desperation she couldn't quite explain, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm, "No," she repeated, more quietly, "Please don't, don't close down on me."

He raised his eyes, and held her gaze, unwavering, unfaltering. She felt that river again, the joy at holding the babe still there, but also excitement, anxiety, and almost unbearable anticipation. Though she had the sense he was trying to keep her from the worst of it.

"It's good," she whispered, "It feels good. I've, I've had dreams of you," she told him, "So much pain. So much guilt, and sadness, and hopeless need."

He ducked his head, turning away from her, seeming ashamed, "I'm sorry that you-"

"No," she said, quiet but firm, cupping his face in her hand, tracing his scar with her thumb, "No. You don't apologise to me for the things that others have done to you. You never do that," she said, with a fierceness that surprised even her.

"I shouldn't have let that touch you," he said quietly, "I, I don't want anyone to feel that, least of all you."

Elain held his gaze and, for the first time, she tentatively tapped at that string inside her, on her bottom rib, that one that extended beyond her in a way even her newfound Sight did not.

Through it, carefully, she pushed all of the depression, all of the pain, and all of the grief, and hopelessness, and even the darkness that had almost claimed her, caused her to step into it and never return.

He started, and his eyes filled with a thin veil of tears. But not because of the emotions she shared, but the fact that they were twin to his own. The fact that, as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she had felt what he had felt.

"We are the light for so many," she said quietly, "The sun that they grow towards, the thing they reach for in their own darkness, when they need hope, and someone who will always find a smile for them."

Lucien nodded, and picked up that thread she'd left dangling for him, causing one of his orbs to circle close to Nyx. The baby tried to catch it, giggling, and Elain saw that, but also the shadow it cast on his soft skin.

"But where there is light, there is shadow," he murmured, eyes not leaving hers, "That is the quiet burden we bear to be their light."

Elain nodded, and together they looked back down at Nyx, and let the warmth and joy at him flow, tentatively, between their bond.

***

thank you!! I hope you enjoyed!!!

[kpop-zone]

Selfish | Jihyo

Hogwarts AU | Enemies to Lovers | “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Wordcount: 3,890

A/N: Sorry if the formatting is weird, but Tumblr won’t let me post anything on my computer, so I had to post this from my phone 😬

“Y/N!”

When Jihyo saw you running through the hallway, she could immediately feel anger seething within her, and she called your name with a sharp tone.

“Oh Jihyo, fancy meeting you here.”

After hearing her voice, you had stopped running abruptly and were now grinning at her sheepishly, pretending like you didn’t know why she was staring you down.

“Stop feigning innocence, Y/N. You’re late. Again! Snape will for sure deduct some points from Gryffindor.”

Jihyo felt like ripping your head off. Of all the Gryffindors you were by far the most reckless one and usually involved when your house lost some points in one way or another. Your favorite activity was to prank Slytherins which always led to particularly hard punishments for your house by Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin. But you just didn’t seem to learn from your mistakes.

“You’re late too though...”

You smirked cheekily, causing her to get even angrier.

“Yeah but I have this opposing to you.”

With her right hand, she pulled out McGonagall’s letter that allowed her to be late for classes if her position as prefect required it and waved it in front of your face.

“That’s unfair.”

You pouted and Jihyo had to suppress her laughter. It was a little unfair indeed. She had simply overslept this morning, but as a prefect, she rarely got punished for anything. But she always told herself that she deserved those benefits. After all, she had to deal with you and your shenanigans almost every day.

“It’s not. I had some...important stuff to do this morning. And now go before we’re even later!”

She lied and you rolled your eyes before starting to run again.

Like expected, both of you arrived late to class and Snape gave you a lecture about the unreliability of Gryffindors for almost fifteen minutes. At the end, he took away some points from Gryffindor with a smug grin tugging on his lips, causing Jihyo to curse you silently. She was sure that Gryffindor had only lost the house cup championships to Slytherin because of you the past years. This year, she had to put a stop to it. Talking with you, however, wasn’t useful. The two of you were in your fifth year already and not once had you listened to her. She had to find another way to keep you in check. The only question was how... The options had thinned out over the years and it seemed like she was only left with one by now. Despite hating you with a passion though, that option seemed to be a little drastic and Jihyo had shied away from pursuing it until now. A fact that changed, however, when she walked into the Gryffindor common room that night.

“That was hilarious...”

“You should have seen Sejoo’s face.”

“I would have never dared to do that.”

Agitated chatter was filling the whole room and Jihyo immediately knew that something bad must have happened; something that most likely was connected with you in some way.

“What happened?”

Jihyo huffed while plopping down next to Jeongyeon on the couch.

“I don’t think you want to know...”

Her friend responded hesitantly and Jihyo buried her face in her hands in desperation.

“Y/N?”

She asked although she already knew the answer to her question.

“Yeah...Let’s just say the incident involved Y/N, Sejoo, the ‘Ossio Dispersimus’ spell and... a 200-points deduction for Gryffindor.”

Hearing the statement of Jeongyeon, Jihyo’s head snapped up and she looked at her classmate bewildered.

“200 POINTS???”

She yelled, causing the surrounding Gryffindors to look at her in shock. But Jihyo couldn’t care less about them. Enough was enough. You could be glad that you weren’t in the room right now, because she was sure that she would kill you if you were standing in front of her in this moment. You had once again ruined the championship for them with your selfishness and she was tired of it. You had to disappear. If you weren’t part of the student body anymore, Gryffindor couldn’t lose points because of you. And there was one easy way to reach that: she needed to get you suspended for the rest of the year and she already knew how.

If there was one person in this school that hated you more than she did, it was Snape. He had tried to get rid of you on several occasions, but your misdeeds had never been severe enough to make him reach his goal. But if she would help a little, she was sure that they could get you out of the way with joined forces. It was a risky scheme, but Jihyo was sure that she could come up with the perfect plan. For two weeks, she martyred her brain to find a way to set you up while protecting her own reputation simultaneously. Coincidentally and much to Jihyo’s chagrin, you didn’t get into any more trouble in those two weeks. On the contrary, you actually stood out for behaving extremely exemplary. You were the first one to appear in every class and the last one to leave because you offered your help to the teachers who often made you stay longer to clean up the classroom. You also didn’t roam around in the hallways anymore after curfew and didn’t even prank the Slytherins. In fact, there were now other Gryffindors that did more mischief than you.

Your good behavior didn’t manage to lift Jihyo’s mood though. If any, it made it worse. Now that she had finally decided to take action against you, you were playing innocent? Of course, her conscience was immediately telling her to stop her plan and to give you another chance. But her brain strongly opposed to that idea. Your good behavior wasn’t enough to erase all the trouble that you had caused the rest of the year. Therefore, she decided to follow through with her plan, even though her bad conscience heavily weighted down on her.

On the due date of her plan, Jihyo went to the library, tightly clasping a letter in her hand while nervously looking around. Being secretive definitely wasn’t her strong suit. As a prefect, she usually advocated honesty and compliance, so everything that she was doing right now went against her principles. She kept telling herself that it was for the good of Gryffindor, but the little voice in her head kept telling her that she was acting out of pure selfishness and it took all of Jihyo’s strength to muffle it. Arriving in the library, she scanned the students and soon found the perfect protagonists of her scheme. There were some first-year Slytherins roaming the aisles, apparently searching for some books to help them solve their Transfiguration homework. Their school supplies were scattered across a table next to one of the huge windows in the library and Jihyo approached it while skimming her letter one more time.

If you want to learn some curses that they don’t teach at school, come to the Forbidden Forest at midnight.

Sincerely,

Y/N L/N

Jihyo cringed at the primitivity of the letter, but she knew that it would work. Slytherins were overachievers with an affinity for illegal activities. They would be too intrigued by the offer to turn it down. After looking around one last time to make sure that no one was watching her, Jihyo dropped the letter on the table of the first years before scurrying off. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she felt like she was close to passing out. She didn’t know how anyone could enjoy going against the rules; she felt absolutely miserable right now. Not being able to be around people any longer, Jihyo wanted to rush off to her dormitory, but before she could leave the library, someone suddenly called her name.

“Jihyo!”

Jihyo didn’t need a second to realize who the voice belonged to and her body froze instantly. Had you caught her red-handed? For a split second, she considered running away, but before she had the chance to, she could already feel your hand on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she turned around with guilt reflecting in her eyes, ready to get yelled at by you.

“Um...I know it’s a little late, but I wanted to apologize to you.”

You mumbled sheepishly and Jihyo’s jaw dropped. That was definitely not what she had expected to hear from you.

“I know that I’m the reason for a lot of your worries and I also know that I took it too far with the incident with Sejoo two weeks back. I’m really sorry about that and I will try my best to make it up to you and the whole house. I’m proud to be a Gryffindor, so I want to make you guys proud in return too from now on.”

You continued while firmly looking into her eyes as if you wanted to convey the seriousness of your words by allowing her a glance into your soul. A glance that Jihyo didn’t want, because she could feel the complete sincerity of your apology and it made her actions even harder to bear. Why did you need to tell her all this now?

“Um...i-it’s a little late for regret now, don’t you think?”

Jihyo stuttered, trying to sound snappish, but her bad conscience forbade her to harm you even more. You didn’t seem to notice the lack of sharpness in her voice though. Instead, you looked like a beaten puppy who was painfully aware of their misdeeds.

“I know and I’m really sorry. I hope you know that this is nothing personal. I’m really grateful that you’re our prefect, no one would be better at this job than you. I’ve never meant to upset you with my actions.”

You smiled sadly, managing to break Jihyo’s heart. What had she done? You didn’t deserve to be suspended and she didn’t deserve your kind words. What person would set somebody up like this? She needed to get that letter back. Panicked, she looked over your shoulder to the table of the first years, but to her sorrow, the Slytherins were nowhere to be seen. They must have left the library already. Looking back at you, she could see that you were anxiously waiting for some kind of response and she would have loved nothing more than to give you the chance to explain yourself. Maybe the two of you had started off on the wrong foot right from the start. But there was no time to talk right now; she needed to get that letter back first.

“I need to go.”

Jihyo exclaimed breathlessly before running out of the library, leaving you behind with a confused expression on your face. Frantically, she ran down the corridor while scanning the passing people. Yellow, blue and red uniforms passed her by but not a single green one.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. FUCK! Where are those little brats??”

She cursed under her breath as she reached the stairs. She had no idea where the Slytherin common room was and even if she did follow another Slytherin student there, she would not know the passwords to enter. Desperately, Jihyo grasped her hair and turned around her own axis. What was she supposed to do now? The castle was too big to find the first years. Panicked, she walked up and down the corridor, trying to think of a way to prevent the fatal consequences of her plan from happening. Her only chance was to stop the first years from going to the Forbidden Forest tonight. If she could intercept the Slytherins on their way to the meeting point, they couldn’t get caught by a preofessor and the letter wouldn’t come into play. It was the only way to make this right.

Therefore, Jihyo reluctantly went to the Gryffindor common room where she waited on the couch in front of the chimney like on pins and needles. The hours passed painfully slow, but after a while one fellow student after the other left the common room to go to bed until Jihyo was the only one left. 11:45, the clock face read, causing her to jump off the couch and to stumble to the exit. Under no circumstances, she could let the first years slip through her fingers; she needed to stop them. Being allowed to roam the hallways after curfew as a prefect, Jihyo didn’t worry about running into any professors and headed straight to the entrance hall where she was just about to open the heavy double doors when they suddenly swung open without her help.

“Oh Ms. Park, I’m glad to meet you here. Look who I’ve found loitering outside.”

Mr. Filch croaked smugly while dragging two of the first years from the library by their robes.

Shit.

Jihyo tried to fake a smile, but on the inside she felt like dying. How was she supposed to change the course of these events now?

“What a lucky catch. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Filch. I can take them to their head of house.”

She tried to pull the first years to her side, but Mr. Filch tightly clasped their uniforms.

“It’s ok. I will accompany you. I want to propose some punishments.”

He giggled ugly before shoving the scared Slytherins forward. Reluctantly, Jihyo followed them to Professor Snape’s office while martyring her brain to find a solution for this hopeless situation. But there didn’t seem to be one. Before she knew it, Mr. Filch already knocked on the dark oak door to Snape’s office which swung open a second later to reveal the irritated-looking professor.

“What?”

He grumbled and Mr. Filch snickered silently.

“I’ve found two of your students outside. After curfew.”

Mr. Filch put exaggerated emphasis on his last sentence, causing Professor Snape to grunt angrily before motioning all of them to come inside. He looked at the two first years in disgust, making Jihyo wonder why he was the head of Slytherin in the first place.

“P-professor Snape, we can explain.”

One of the Slytherins stuttered anxiously before pulling out Jihyo’s letter from his robe, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She couldn’t just rip it out of the younger student’s hands and destroy it, right? That would be too suspicious. Instead, she had to watch how Snape took the letter and started reading it grimly before his face lit up suddenly.

“Y/N...”

He mumbled, looking happier than Jihyo had ever seen him before.

“Let’s pay Professor McGonagall a visit.”

Before anyone could disagree with him, Snape already scurried out of the room and the rest of them had to follow him wordlessly. Jihyo didn’t know who looked more miserable right now. The two first years or herself. All of them slouched their shoulders and regret was written all over their faces. Filch and Snape on the other hand resembled two Cheshire cats, especially after bolting into Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Y/N has endangered the lives of two first years. I plead for an immediate suspension.”

Professor Snape blurted out before giving the other professor the chance to process this ambush. Jihyo had never been more distressed in her life to have a plan of hers work out just like she had wanted it to.

“I beg your pardon?”

Professor McGonagall asked confused, causing Snape to snicker in amusement.

“These two students here have willfully been lured into a life-threatening situation by Y/N L/N, your student.”

He repeated himself while handing over Jihyo’s letter. Silently, the head of Gryffindor read the harmful words before sighing in desperation.

“That is a severe delinquency indeed...but I’m sure there must be an explanation for this.”

Professor McGonagall was quick to jump to your defense, causing Jihyo to draw hope that was destroyed a second later though when Snape scoffed dismissively.

“Yes, there is an explanation. Y/N L/N is a danger for this school, or have you forgotten about the incident with Sejoo only two weeks back? As a responsible head of house, I can’t tolerate such behavior.”

He narrowed his eyes and Professor McGonagall straightened up defensively.

“I haven’t forgotten about that, but if I may remind you, it was your student who used a slur about Ms. Park’s decent here that caused this whole incident.”

She bit back while pointing at Jihyo who flinched in surprise. What did Professor McGonagall mean by that?

An unsettling feeling started to form in Jihyo’s stomach, and she gulped thickly. What if everything wasn’t like it had seemed?

“That still doesn’t justify the endangerment of fellow students.”

Snape tried to distract from the misdeeds of his own student, leading to a stare down between the two heads of houses. The tension in the room increased with every second until the door of the office suddenly swung open. Inside came Filch accompanied by you, causing Jihyo’s eyes to widen. She hadn’t even noticed that the caretaker had left the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty to bring L/N in.”

He snickered before shoving you into the room.

You ended up standing next to Jihyo and looked at her nervously.

“W-what is this about?”

You stuttered, trying to sound relaxed although a slight trembling in your voice gave away that your heart had to be pounding in your chest.

“You have been caught red-handed. It’s over.”

Snape grinned while pointing at the letter in Professor McGonagall’s hand. Confused, you frowned, obviously not being able to know what he was talking about.

“Why would you lure them into the Forbidden Forest?”

The head of Gryffindor asked in disappointment and you looked at Jihyo for help.

“I did what?”

The confusion and fright in your voice was unmistakable and Jihyo hung her head in shame.

“Quit playing innocent Y/N. We have all the proof we need!”

Snape yelled causing you to flinch in shock. In reflex, Jihyo immediately grabbed your hand and you squeezed it tightly.

“You’re going down for this! You lured two first years into the Forbidden Forest. They could have died if Mr. Filch wouldn’t have found them in time. I will not let this go until you are suspended for the rest of the year.”

With every word more tears started to pool in your eyes and Jihyo couldn’t manage to avert her gaze from you. You looked so helpless right now and all she wanted to do was to save you from this horrible place.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never seen this letter before. Why would I Iure first years into the Forbidden Forest??”

Your voice cracked in desperation, but Snape just kept on accusing you aggressively. After all, you had a history of pranking Slytherins. Jihyo couldn’t imagine how wronged you had to feel right now, and she gently rubbed your hand with her thumb, not knowing whether she was trying to calm you or herself down by doing so. She knew that she could end all this by admitting that it had been her who had left the letter, but despite being a Gryffindor, she wasn’t brave enough to do that. How was she supposed to explain it? How would she be supposed to ever look into your eyes again?

“That’s enough. We’ve understood your point, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall eventually ended Snape’s rant before looking at you with a sad face.

“I see how this incident is out of character for you, Y/N. Nevertheless, I have to agree with Professor Snape, the evidence is overwhelming. Therefore...you are hereby suspended until we can prove your innocence.”

Your jaw dropped, hearing these words from the head of Gryffindor and you looked at Jihyo as if she was your last hope. But she wasn’t strong enough to save you. Instead, she flung her arms around your neck and pulled you against her body.

“I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed, not being able to hold back her own tears anymore. Suddenly, however, she could feel how you started to stroke her back soothingly.

“Hey, it’s ok. This is not your fault.”

You tried to calm her, apparently not suspecting her betrayal in the slightest.

“Y/N, let’s go to your dormitory to get your belongings.”

Professor McGonagall asked you and you pulled away. With a light smile tugging on your lips, you reached out and gently wiped away the tears that were streaming down Jihyo’s cheeks.

“Don’t be sad, your job is actually going to be a lot easier from now on. Although I really would have loved to celebrate our victory in the championship together at the end of the year.”

You chuckled sadly to cheer her up before trying to turn around to leave but Jihyo held on to you and crashed you into her body again. She couldn’t bear to see you cheering her up any longer. Not after what she had done.

“It was me. I wrote the letter.”

She whispered into your ear while new tears streamed down her cheeks.

In disbelief, you separated your bodies and stared at her with betrayal written all over your face, causing her to avert her gaze. Her guilt was squeezing all air out of her lungs and she waited impatiently for you to expose her. This charade was unbearable.

“And here I was thinking that you were starting to like me back... What a foolish thought.”

You chuckled, causing Jihyo’s head to snap up. Slowly, you started to back away from her while grabbing your forehead in disbelief and Jihyo shakily reached out for you.

“Y/N...”

The words in Jihyo’s mind were all jumbled and the only thing she could utter was your name. Why weren’t you yelling at her? Why weren’t you standing up for your innocence? Your calmness and the disappointed look in your face was slowly killing her. She needed you to punish her for her betrayal, but you didn’t show the slightest inclination to do so.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

You mumbled, still seeming to be dazed due to her confession.

“Y/N, what are you doing? You should expose me...”

Jihyo shook your shoulder lightly, but you only smiled at her.

“Yeah you’re probably right. But I won’t. I could never hurt you like that.”

You shrugged while trying to remove her hand from her shoulder but Jihyo only tightened her grasp.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion although the blurry picture in her head was slowly starting to get clearer, revealing a truth that she would have preferred to keep ignoring.

“I genuinely hope that you’re happy now, Jihyo. That’s all I ever wanted. You should look out for Sejoo and his gang though. They don’t like to see a muggle-born in such a powerful position and I don’t know what they will do now that I’m not going to be there anymore.”

With that, you removed her hand from your shoulder and walked up to Professor McGonagall who looked at you apologetically before giving you a sign to leave the room. One last time, you turned around and nothing hurt Jihyo more than to see that the sadness in your eyes still couldn’t manage to erase the affection that reflected in them. She had been so blind all this time...

Who would have thought that she had been the selfish one all along?

[nomunamuinmybrain]

Work you out (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: M

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.4K

In collaboration with the lovely @alwaysdarkestbeforethedawn94

Disclaimer: if you are under the age of 18 please know that this contains heavy sexual themes and mature language.

Summary: Working for Hybe has been an experience. Being Jungkook’s manager is another story. His sharp eyes, firm jawline and snarky attitude was a deadly combination to begin with. The guy easily found his way to your heart and you simply couldn't take it anymore.

Thinking back to how I managed to land such an unimaginable employment opportunity must have been a miracle. Unquestionably, working for HYBE had so many benefits; I swore to never leave this place. Sure, I was a simple manager's assistant, but I was by the side of one of the managers that handled the most important talent in the stretch of South Korea, the entire globe to be honest, BTS. I was assigned the position of assistant to the manager of one of the guys, none other than Jeon Jungkook. I really couldn’t believe my luck. Not only was I a part of one of the most skyrocketing influential enterprises in the country, but I also had the chance to meet some of the most inspiring people in the whole world! Who would have thought?!

Did I have a crush on the guy by the end of my first month working here? Yes, but who wouldn't? He is the sweetest, always polite and courteous. I've met my share of self-boasting asshats; this industry is flooded with such. This guy is worth billions and he has remained ridiculously humble. Word got around about him being a wonderful young man and I could positively say he is so much more up close. Jungkook is ridiculously handsome that’s a given already, but his personality was the real deal-maker. He reminds me of a dark stormy thundery night where I cover myself with my favourite warm fluffy blanket starring out of the window a rich flavored hot chocolate in hand.

In general, I quite enjoy working at the company’s principled environment. Don’t get me wrong, nothing in this world is rainbows and butterflies, but overall, I can confidently say that it’s been a mainly positive experience. Thankfully, the department I am in is assembled by kind, funny people who like to get things done. There hasn’t been a day were I regretted coming here. As for my daily duties as an assistant, working for Jungkook meant keeping up with his appointments, helping him with anything at anytime, managing his schedule, making sure it matches with the other guys' and so much more. I was required to work around the clock and as a single independent woman in her late twenties who was trying to figure out the world around her that didn’t sound like such a bad idea, though I digress. Essentially, I was one of the employees responsible for pretty much anything and everything he needed. Our department was at his disposal 24/7 running around, living that busy life.

That's until the pandemic struck. That was the first time I thought to myself that this might be nature’s valiant plan to get back what man so forcefully took from her. Suddenly, everything was canceled; life got put on a hold. My dearest supervisor, Jungkook's manager, had to stay at home because he had kids. In fact, a lot of people had to stay at home. Abruptly, days became weeks and weeks became months. The desperation and frustration we were feeling was like nothing else ever experienced. Truthfully, it felt like something had been stolen from us and we could never get it back. In this manner, when the gears finally started grinding again I was assigned to be the on-site manager for Jungkook. That meant being in direct contact with him more so than before and of course, being responsible for a ton of other obligations.  

Not going to lie, the first months were slightly awkward for both of us and understandably so. We both were used to very different working arrangements. I might have been working behind the scenes before, but now I had to step into the spotlight becoming his own personal shadow, and I am sure he wasn’t really comfortable with that. Taken into account the current situation everyone looked like a volcano ready to erupt.  

Once, I happened to accidentally step in a not so common incident; maybe it was a circumstance I wasn’t supposed to witness. He was on the phone at the time, when I saw him. That’s why I decided it was best if I stayed behind the half closed door of the studio. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and it was none of my business after all, but I could tell by the minute I laid my eyes on him that something was wrong. Something had been bothering him; irritation written all over his face. He was pacing back and forth, phone still on his ear. He was clenching his fist so hard I wondered if his nails cut into his skin. He was breathing heavily, almost as if he would burst and his muscles grew tense.  

Then, in an instant, it seemed that the call ended and as he was putting the phone in his pocket he slammed his fists down onto the table a loud bang echoing in the room. After some consideration, I knocked on the door to make my presence known and he sharply looked at me. Without having the chance to say anything to him he let out a loud growl and left the room leaving me dumbfounded and unaware by the door. Soon after that, he apologized for the way he acted confessing that he had an unfortunate falling out with one of his closest friends and at the time he couldn’t process what was happening. I would never forget that day. It was the day I came across a not so familiar side to him.

From that day forward, things miraculously became easier and Jungkook was way more relaxed around my presence, we joked around often and he even texted me to ask about a variety of things outside of regular working hours. We managed to develop a teasing relationship full of endless borderline flirtatious banter. He had this other side to him that only a selected few got the chance to know. Jeon Jungkook was indeed a comforting raging night, but he was also an infuriating playful mischievous brat when he wanted to be. This in all honesty, made him a hundred times more irresistible in my eyes.

Life was going on smoothly until Jungkook decided that taking after midnight trips to the gym was perfectly acceptable, insisting that I escort him instead of his bodyguard. I cursed every single time but I went anyway. Forty-five minutes after midnight he was lifting weights, unbothered. Taking secret short glances towards him I contemplated what I had done in my previous life to deserve this torment. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less about the late hour, but to have this view in front of my eyes was causing me both mental and physical pain. The guy was clearly sculpted by the gods. With his broad chest, muscular arms and thick thighs he could have anyone he ever wanted. He even sported an hourglass figure; He is insanely unreal. That’s the main reason why I decided to sit there preoccupied with a silly game on my phone to kill time until the suffering ended. I was barely hanging from a string at the verge of blowing off the barrier between my personal and professional life.

Out of the blue, with a loud grunt, he dropped the weights, drawing me out of my contemplation. He looked annoyed for whatever reason. He tried his best to seem nonchalant but it was obvious, in his beautiful stern eyes. Could he be craving for an audience? Abandoning every rational thought I had, I put my phone away, looked in his direction as I got up to get water. I smirked at his clear annoyance. Surely, we weren't supposed to interact with the artists this way but I am cranky and sleepy, and for the first time ever, he was being kind of an ass to me. Was I perhaps the reason behind his sudden personality change? The thought kept floating at the back of my mind.  

This kept going on for about three weeks or so and I gave him nothing. His annoyance prominent in his expression, more and more as the weeks went by. He was hot but I am sure all he had been seeking was an audience given that he missed it, or so I thought. Thursday evening rolls around and I was particularly iffy tonight ‘because I was extremely frustrated, sexually. This one was making my situation worse, sporting a tight black tank top and skinny grey sweatpants which made him look like a treat. He could easily pass for a bodyguard with those broad well-built shoulders. As my eyes scanned his body I realized this was the first time his tatted sleeve was on display. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander. By the time I was done his eyes were already fixed on mine and I turned away immediately, embarrassment written all over my face.  

Seeking solace in the women’s bathroom I tried to extinguish this ravenous yearning. The feeling of cold water did nothing to help the burning desire that was building inside me. Without warning, a knock at the door was heard, his sweet angelic voice following "Are you okay?" he asked, the remnants of a smirk could be heard still. "Jungkook you cannot be here, I am okay. I'll be out in a minute." I exclaimed, as calm as I could. "It's been ten minutes. I can't continue unless you're there." He insisted, I heard him chuckle after that.

With that, it was now or never, I pushed the door’s handle and made my way outside rolling my eyes in the process and he caught that, quickly moving closer, clearly annoyed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in my features, making him look not quite intimidating but definitely interesting. No, it was my mistake. Not just interesting, he looked ravishing. "As I said, I'll be out in a minute. Then you can finish up" I argued. But he didn't budge, moving even closer, if that was even possible, he was almost a breath away. "I don't feel like working out anymore" he declared like a child whose toy was taken away from him. As if I chose to play heads or tails with my career, I poked the beast further, "What is it that you want to do then?" I asked making sure he heard the annoyance in my tone. Coming even closer, to the point where he was completely pressed up against me, "You" he uttered calmly yet authoritatively. Before I could process what he had just said his soft lips crushed mine with a vengeance, thirsty. Pulling my lip with his teeth, he kept planting kisses from my lips to my jaw trailing down to my neck and décolletage; a surprised panting left my lips.  

It felt as if I had involuntarily awakened this beastly hunger within him. His kisses insatiable and his touch was possessive, "I've been thinking about this for so long" he confessed as he took my hoodie off. "Sitting there, not giving a word let alone a glimpse. If you think this is off-limits you're wrong" he growled pointing at himself. "I can guarantee that once we're done here you definitely won't be able to look at me, ever." As he said all that, he managed to get me in a compromising position against the sink, his slim waist in between my legs. He kept my gaze as he lowered his head between my thighs. Little shit kept giving me hickeys on the soft flesh of my inner thighs, so close to my now dripping core. He enjoyed tormenting me and it showed. I was helpless but oh, God was all of this hot. He licked a stripe over my soaked panties, "Oh baby, you smell delicious" and with one hand he took off my underwear completely.

He sank in my folds, letting a guttural moan that I felt vibrating through my core. Not being able to think about what was happening I let myself indulge in my carnal desire my hands tangled in between his luscious hair.  

He loved food and I've watched him eat before, but this must be one of his favorites ‘cause he was doing his best not to let a drop go to waste; he acted like a man starved. His hands held me in place, thankfully, ‘cause everything was too much; nothing could stop me from shaking, feeling everything deep in my core, he was too much. He just had to be good at everything. He kept a torturous tempo, from sucking my clit to his sinful tongue penetrating me, and as tears gathered around my eyes he decided to add his slender fingers in bringing me closer to heaven than I've ever been. "That's it baby, let go. Let go for me" he exhaled and just like that I had the most intense climax. My limbs felt numb, my whole body felt like rubber.  

Before I could register what was happening he was back at it, sucking my over stimulated clit, my thighs unconsciously closing around his head as oversensitivity hit. "One more, please, come on baby, you can do it" he begged. He kept pumping his fingers while sucking my clit, as if it was his only goal in life. My screams muffled through my own hand clamped on my mouth as I reached my high for a second time that night. I felt it take over me with such intensity I didn't register what had happened. He emerged from between my thighs, soaked from me squirting and with a proud look on his face he declared "Now I look like I had the workout of a lifetime".  

He helped me get dressed and pulled me close for a soft peck. He must have noticed my concerned look because he wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug and said "Don't be scared about this, we can work it out. I really like you and I'd like you to stick around". Starring into his eyes, I nodded and he pulled me close for the sweetest kiss, trying to tame my bewildered hair. He helped me get dressed and got out the door first to make sure that no one was around. I waited for a moment and then I got a text.  

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: pre-relationship

Rating: G

Word Count: 1175

(Special thanks to @ellstersmash for asking me to write this delightful idea)

just a plant

It is not what he wants to do. But it’s the principle of it. The undeniable prodding of his conscience. He should do it. After all, he is a man–no–vampire of propriety. Though the remnants of the last five broken objects would find the latter statement objectionable.

He meanders up and down the aisles at Greene’s Garden Center, the local greenhouse in Wayhaven. For the life of him, he can’t remember what the plant even looked like. It was certainly green and it didn’t have any speckles like the one currently in his hands. Pretty sure it didn’t have vines either. But maybe it did.

“Need some help?”

He nearly breaks the pot in his hands. How could he have let his guard down?

“Um,” he tries to placate a friendly smile but it certainly feels like a cringe as he places the fragile pot where he found it.

The brows of the sales associate only affirms his suspicions as one flicks up in question.

“I’m looking for a plant.” Instantaneous regret coupled with the lack of desire for human social conversation leaves Adam more exposed than he’d like.

But she is the kind and gracious host, patiently waiting for him to say his next line. (Though he wouldn’t be surprised if he made it on her list of annoying customers for the day). When she realizes he’s not going to expand on his thoughts regarding plants, she prompts him.

“Okay. Any specific type?”

He pauses, considers. Should he retell his mishap from this morning? To this woman who is only trying her best to perform her job’s required tasks?

No. Certainly not. The story would add nothing to his search. It would be useless information.

“No,” he says.

She’s standing there waiting for him to give her a little bit more. Her toes are tapping as her hand settles onto the curve of her popped right hip.

“It needs to be green.”

She lets out a rather loud sigh. Unnecessary in his opinion. “Is there anything that might help me narrow down your search?” She gestures to literally everything in their immediate vicinity. “As you can see, most every plant here is green.”

His eyes survey them all again. Had he known there was so much variety amongst indoor foliage, he would’ve opted to hand the detective the cash to pick out her own replacement plant.

“I will keep browsing,” he finally says.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need me.”

He lets out a grunt of acknowledgement as the associate disappears into another area of the store. Adam side steps over to the next set of potted plants. Dark greens, light greens, greens with flowers–they’re all different and yet look exactly the same. He cups his hand under a wide textured white pot that looks more like a giant soup bowl. This one definitely isn’t right. It’s full of spiky looking miniature plants. His gaze falls on the next set. One has some pink tinges on the edges of its leaves. Dinah would certainly like the pink. Maybe she’d be okay with a new replacement that isn’t a replica?

No.

Maybe.

No.

He pulls out his phone. Dials. Grasps the shallow pot with the pink tinged plant in his other hand.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“The warehouse. Why?”

“I need your help.”

“Location.”

Adam grits his teeth together and mutters, “the plant store.”

“Where?”

“The garden center. Not far from you.”

“Oh. Greene’s?”

“Yes.”

“Be right there.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket. While continuing to cradle the plant. He eyes it studiously. Deliberating. But he sets it back just as Nate joins his side.

“Hey.”

“I need help picking a plant. I know nothing about plants. Do you remember what plant was in the detective's office?”

“Oh, the one that you broke?”

“Yes. The one that I broke.”

“No.”

Adam pinches the bridge of his nose while Nate glows with a smile next to him. Then the associate comes back.

“You still doing good over here?”

Adam ignores Nate’s questioning glance. “Yes…”

“We’re looking to replace a plant my friend here broke.”

The associate eyes Adam with a bit of disdain but puts all her charm onto Nate. Because of course she does.

“I see. Was there a specific type of plant you had in mind?”

“The plant was situated on the corner of her desk. It tends to get plenty of light when she leaves the blinds open.”

“Do you know which direction her desk faces?”

Nate pauses, uncertain.

“South wall,” Adam states.

“Okay. And do you know if the detective waters her plants regularly?”

“That is a good question.” Nate tugs at his chin. “What would you choose based solely off the information we’ve given?”

“It sounds like the plant could have a lot of sun so I’d pick something like cactuses, succulents or aloe if the detective doesn’t like to water often. If they prefer more leafy plants then I’d suggest a palm, a dwarf fruit tree or even an everblooming gardenia if a floral is preferable.”

“You have given us many useful options. Thank you for your input. And your time,” Nate says.

“You’re very welcome,” the associate returns Nate’s enthusiastic smile, “just holler if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Nate replies.

Adam tucks his hands into his pockets. “That wasn’t helpful at all.”

“Yes it was. It narrows down our options.”

“Aren’t all plants leafy? What did she mean by leafy plants like a palm?”

“Come here,” Nate gestures for him to follow.

So he does. They wander over to a section full of tall tree looking plants and some bushy looking things.

“These are leafy.”

“Okay. So not these.”

Nate shrugs.

“Can you just pick one?”

“I’m not the one who destroyed the plant. You did. Was there one that caught your eye?”

“It’s not for me.”

“So there is one that caught your eye. Come on, let’s get it.”

Adam groans but he acquiesces and brings Nate back to the plant with pink tinged leaves.

“I should’ve just let the Agency replace it.”

“And miss the opportunity to connect with the detective? No. This is a far superior choice.”

Gesturing to the plant Adam says, “this is it.”

“A succulent. What’s it called?”

Adam lifts the pot. “I don’t know.”

Nate’s fingers pluck a small tag from its soil. “Kalanchoe ‘Pink Butterflies’”. Oh this says Dinah all over it.”

“So I should get it?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Nate gives him an encouraging squeeze on his shoulder. “I’m going to head back. You’ll have to let me know if she likes it.”

Nate doesn’t see Adam’s self satisfied smirk as he makes his way to the checkout. He doesn’t plan on being there when the detective finds it. He purchases the plant and carefully carries it back to the police station. Adam sets it on her desk, finds her notepad and writes an apology, leaving it tucked under the base of the pot.

Finally, his conscience will leave him the hell alone. And all thoughts of Dinah will disperse.

Or so he hopes.

[granddaughterogg]

What’s death’s reaction to his s/o referring to him as their husband? Like maybe they go out somewhere and s/o has to introduce death to a friend they ran into in public and the first thing that comes to mind while they’re all frazzled is “Oh! This is my /husband/!”

It was Friday afternoon - the worst possible time for a grocery haul.

You've tried to communicate this to your Nephilim a few times before, but the message bounced off them. The Horsemen were perceptive people, but they've spent most of their lives under very different stars (or sometimes under no stars at all.) Never before had they to fit their undertakings within a 24-hour timetable. The intricate ways in which human society works were also all but lost on them. Repeated explanations that certain stuff has to be done at certain hours probably hacked a few good years off your lifespan.

 Maybe one day they'll finally learn, you thought, slowly and tenderly losing your shit. Until then - your shared home life was a path full of organizational hiccups. Chaos often took over.

Anyway, you lived with four oversized individuals who didn't really have to eat, but they sure enjoyed it - and three of them consumed heaps. This week it just so happened that Strife went MIA (as he often would), Fury was having a Hair Maintenance Day and War really needed some bonding time with his steed. Or something.

Thankfully Death remained the reliable one. He grabbed you, summoned Despair from his pocket dimension (Death really wasn't the man for cars) and off to the supermarket you two went.

What you faced was a typical Friday after hours stampede. Tired, frustrated consumers teemed the aisles, filling their enormous shopping carts, crashing their carts into other people's backsides and running them over other people's feet. The air was stuffy, filled with maniacally upbeat music and high-pitched wailing of children. 

It was sheer hell.

"Let's make this quick", you pleaded into your companion's ashy ear. "I don't know how long I can take it. Can we split the shopping list? I'll grab the groceries, you go get all the cleaning stuff and we'll meet here, okay, love?"

Death nodded, straightened himself to his whole impressive height and stalked away. You watched his wide frame part the sea of busy heads. No matter how thick the crowd, people always seemed to just naturally skip out of Death's way. A sensible instinct. Many heads have turned, the expression on their faces something between dumbfoundedness and awe. You've heard quite a few stifled "Damn!"s.

You reached for packaged rice, smirking. Your man was seven and a half feet tall, his skin the shade of bone, and no, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

You managed to persuade him to leave all his jangly ironmongery at home. That's enough Fitting In for one trip.

Death's dark head finally disappeared behind the shelves and your thoughts refocused on filling the cart. You were picking up some broccoli in the produce aisle when a high-pitched voice uttered your name.

You jumped.

"No way!!!" Something big and bright filled your field of vision. You picked up the dropped broccoli, blinked a few times, and the yellow shape refocused into a head of hair - a shiny lob dyed sunny blonde. Not one hair stuck out of place.

"It really is you!!!" squealed the head in glee. It belonged to a rather attractive woman in big rectangular sunglasses, her lips very finely painted fuchsia pink. She always looked like those ladies portrayed in the so-called ladies' magazines. Thin and poreless, exuding easy confidence that comes from not being broke even once in her whole life.

"Hi, Julianne", you groaned. There was no escaping it now.

"Honey!!! So glad to see you!!" professed the woman, eyeing you shrewdly from head to toe. She probably calculated the price of your whole outfit in her head right now - and the contents of your cart while she was at it. Drawing conclusions. Always have been good with maths. Fucking Julianne.

"I wrote to you on Facebook so many times!!" Multiple exclamation points have been her thing; apparently, this hasn't changed since high school. "Why did you never answer, silly? We had so much fun during our class reunion..."

"Uh, I bet", you murmured. You wouldn't step back within your old school walls even if they paid you. "Sorry for going no contact. I've had a lot on my plate recently, you know -"

"Like what?" the woman tilted her shapely head, her attitude playful, but also slightly accusatory.

It made you angry. 

Remember the Apocalypse, Julianne? Remember when you slipped into non-existence among most of the human race? I bet you don't. I bet you decided to forget this ever happened. Like so many others did. Well, I didn't die, so I can't forget. Someone saved me and I got to traverse many different realms side by side with a Horseman of the fucking Apocalypse. And then he gave his life away, and later got brought back to life by his brother, who is also a Horseman - and we've been living together ever since...

Of course, you didn't say any of that out loud. You stood there, fondling the lush green broccoli in your hands. What even was the point?

"Oh, you know. I got into a relationship..." 

"You did?"

You looked her dead in the eye - blue and suddenly wide under the swanky shades - and could tell that this was a direct hit.

"Well, yeah." You smiled at Julianne. "Those things happen, you know."

"Sure, sure!! But frankly, out of all of us, I'd never suspect you to settle with a man and all..." 

"Excuse me?"

Julianne held at a strand of her perfect, shiny hair and then let go. "You were always quite the feminist after all..."

"What does this have to do with - " you blurted out and stopped mid-sentence because Death emerged from behind the shelves. His arms were full of various cleaning stuff.

"I've got everything from the list", he said. "I've also got at least partially deaf. Are we done here?"

A wide smile upturned the corners of your mouth - this time a genuine one because Julianne looked like a startled fish. She stared at you, then at the ashy, muscular, hulking giant at your side, then back at your beaming face.

Pettiness is the dish of the gods. 

"Death, love, meet Julianne", you said gracefully. "Julianne, this is Death. My husband."

The words slipped out of you on their own.

You tossed him a panicked, beseeching look, but your Nephilim was game. Maybe his eyebrow quivered a little; it happened so fast that Julianne would never notice. She was too busy ogling rocky abs of this man you've settled with.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance", said Death in his most velvety, bordering-on-indecent tone. Julianne just nodded back stiffly, as if submerged in a trance.

You left the supermarket soon after that.

A strange, playful little smile twirled your Horseman's lips while he loaded all the groceries into Despair's saddlebags. Thankfully those operated on the principle of magic, not physics, or the horse's spectral back would break.

"I assume that wasn't a friend." You spent all the way to the parking lot trying not to look him in the face. The words startled you.

"Hell no. She's a bitch."

"Ah." That was his whole answer. Finally, all the groceries have been stuffed into the magic pocket space. Death turned around, clasped his hands to your waist and lifted you onto the saddle. His movements bore such effortless grace. It happened so many times and you still weren't over how inhumanely strong this man is.

He sat right behind you. You clasped both hands on the saddle's horn, discreetly basking in this soothing feeling that being surrounded by Death's powerful physique gave you. 

His torso pressed into your back, his strong thighs almost touching yours. This bliss would never get old.

"You know, I can't help but wonder." Death's deep voice was like a silky needle, injected into your frayed nerves. "Why did you call me this word?"

"It...just felt right", you said, staring at Despair's pointy ears, wreathed with spectral discharge. The horse turned his humongous head as if asking: Can we go now? But your companion wasn't done yet.

"Do you wish for me to take your hand in marriage?"

You almost keeled over.

"Damn, D! Well...I...I don't want to force any more human stuff on you, you know?"

He leaned over; long, black strands of hair grazed your mouth. Death looked you in the face. You'd rather he didn't.

"Do you or do you not?"

"Damn, I do. I'd absolutely love to. But you have to live in this human world with me and you're constantly surrounded by alien stuff and alien customs which don't hold much meaning to you, and that would just be...another one of those things, right?" you murmured, lowering your head.

"I'm surrounded by alien stuff wherever I go", said Death softly. "I don't have a place I'd call home."

"I know! But it's hard!" you admitted. "You're always asking me what is it that I want. But marriage is one of those things that have to be desired by both people equally, or it means nothing..."

You suddenly felt very small and rather sad.

"I don't want you to get entangled in something that you have no use for", you whispered, pinning your eyes to the worn-off leather of the saddle. "Not just for me."

Death didn't answer for a good while. Then his big hand covered yours and squeezed it slightly.

Before you've met him, you always imagined that Death's touch must be freezing cold. That was not true.

"I understand", he said, "and I am grateful for your candour."

He nudged the horse and off you went, both unusually quiet.

[fappellmoan]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[floralseokjin]

;slightly jealous (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

⟨gif credit⟩

You’re slightly jealous but mostly annoyed...

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings; domestic, fluffy, smut, some minor ass stuff, and i mean minor, jungkook’s hair 🥵, just jungkook in general 🥺 words; 2,560

more﹆chapter index

“I’m firing her.”

Jungkook laughed loudly at your dramatic statement. Looking up at you shirtless from where he was slumped on the bed—long given up on taking the rest of his clothes off. “No you’re not.” 

“I am.” You insisted, kicking off your heels. One hit the closet door and you sat with your back to Jungkook, perched on the edge of the mattress. 

He sat up, sighing softly as he undid the zip of your dress, helping you out without you even having to ask. “For flirting with your boyfriend?” 

Okay. Now that he’d said it out loud it did sound a little over the top. Not that you’d admit that though. “Babe, I’m pretty sure that’s not a valid reason.” 

“Inappropriate behaviour.” You were stubborn.

You heard him snicker before you were encased in warmth, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. “I love you. You’re silly.” You hummed. Not in agreement. It was just because he was nosing the crook of your neck. Felt good. “And drunk.” 

“Fine.” He had you there. You were acting irrational because of the amount of vodka you’d consumed. But that was only because someone new at work had quite blatantly been flirting with him while you’d gone out for drinks. The store you were manager at did get togethers once every few months and you brought along your boyfriends/girlfriends/friends. It wasn’t everyone’s scene, but those who came enjoyed. You’d invited Sungha to be nice. You hadn’t realised she’d grow an uncontrollable lady boner for Jungkook. 

“Maybe I can’t fire her but I can give her all the weekend shifts. That’ll teach her.”

You boyfriend laughed again, it rumbled in your ear. His hair, that could probably do with a trim by now—unless he was planning on growing it even longer, which didn’t surprise you—tickled your jaw line. “I must say, this is kinda flattering. Never knew you were so passionate about me.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, would you like it if you had to watch someone flirting with me all night?” And shamelessly at that. At one point you’d gone to the restroom and had come back to find her in your seat. There she’d stayed. It was as if you hadn’t introduced him as your boyfriend not two hours previous. 

“She wasn’t flirting with me all night.” He felt you stiffen in his grip and thought better. “But no, I wouldn’t.” You kept quiet, lost in your own head. “Hey.” He nudged. “Come on, face me.” 

You listened. Ended up straddling him in the middle of your bed. Arms loose around his neck. He squeezed you against him. “You’re not too bothered by this, are you? You know I’m not interested in her in any way, right?” 

His voice was gentle. You felt warmth spread over you. “I know. “ Of course you knew that. “I’m just annoyed more than anything. It’s the principle of it all.” God, you were off again. “I’m her manager and she’s only been there five minutes.” Jungkook listened sincerely, nodding in agreement once you were done. You stole a kiss before grumbling. “She was so obviously into you.” 

He chuckled softly, rubbing your noses together. “I did look good tonight. That’s what happens when you have a really hot boyfriend, I guess.” 

You snorted. “Be quiet.” As if Jungkook could ever be full of himself. You knew he didn’t think like that at all, but he always did such a good job at cheering you up. 

It was his turn to kiss you now. He was naughty though. Slipped some tongue in. Distracted you for a moment. “You are hot though.” You agreed quietly.

“You’re hotter.” He squeezed your ass to emphasise. You would think after all these years together your attraction for one another would simmer down. Not in a bad way. It had just been six years and you could still get tingly from one single kiss. The power of Jeon Jungkook. 

You shifted in his lap, letting his mouth make sloppy work of your neck. “She’s working next weekend.”

He groaned. Not for why you thought. “You being all stern like this is turning me on.” 

“Yeah?” You smirked as he lifted his head. “Tomorrow you can finally build that shoe rack for the closet.” 

“That? Not as sexy.” You went to whack his chest but he gripped your wrist, attaching your lips again. He whined in your mouth. “You made me hard.” 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Genuine question. 

“Mm. Have a few ideas...” He noticed your raised eyebrow. “For real? You’re not too drunk? Too tired?” 

“I’m merry,” you corrected, much to his amusement. “And sucking dick doesn’t take much effort.” You pushed at his shoulders and he willingly fell back. 

“I can’t get all the pleasure,” he insisted as you began to hastily undo his fly. “Let me

go down on you.” 

“After.” You dismissed. 

“Let’s save time. Sixty nine. Wait.” He looked perplexed. “I didn’t mean for that to rhyme.” 

You laughed but nodded your head. “Okay.” 

His eyes lit up. “Okay!” He wriggled to the correct direction of the bed, jeans and underwear off in a flash. Naked before your eyes. 

You were a little slower. Standing up to shimmy out of your dress before bouncing back on the mattress. Kissing again without taking a breath. His dick in your hand as you began to jerk him off, and your ass in his. He squeezed and pulled before giving it a light slap. “Great ass.”

He complimented you like he hadn’t had access to it for years, making you giggle before you felt him tearing at the lace of your underwear. Impatient. Horny. You clambered out of them, your grip on his cock loosening, but he couldn’t take anymore teasing anyway.  

“Jump on,” he commanded. Voice uneven. You hadn’t even had a chance to take your bra off yet, but oh well. Needs must.

You didn’t know who started first, but rather frustratingly you did know who finished first. Probably had to do with the fact Jungkook really knew how to work it in this position. Nothing made him happier than a face full of your pussy. His words. And with his dick in your mouth, maybe you were a lot more sensitive than usual. Sensory overload. It was a whole other level of intimate, and you just fell victim to it. 

“Knew you’d cum first,” he gleed, mouth all wet and sticky. 

Yours popped off his cock to land an insult before going back for more. “Dick.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah that’s what you’re sucking right now.” Lightly spanking your ass, he blew cold air along your core. You jumped. A surge of hot, needy want shooting straight through you. 

“No, wait!” He panicked, when you slid him from your mouth again. Misreading your movement. “Was just messing around. Oh.” He exhaled, realising what you were doing now as you got out of his grip and moved down to his lap. “Shit. Okay. Thought you were tired?” 

You gripped the base of his dick, angling it to your entrance before pushing down. “Want it,” you said, moaning at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

He moaned back and you felt him try to sit up a little before he gave up, moaning again when you began moving. He gripped one hand to your hip, unable to stop gliding his hips with each thrust downwards. You leant forward, hands on top of his thighs for leverage, and you just knew he had a great view of your ass. You moved quickly and determinedly. Making rhythm with the squelchy, wet noises coming from between you. 

His other hand ran up your spine until he couldn’t reach anymore. “Jesus. What’s gotten into you?” He chuckled in disbelief, breathing laboured. “Slow down. You’re gonna make me cum.” 

You moaned. That’s exactly what you wanted. You raised up a little, his hand now at your ass, cupping the roundness, before his thumb slipped between the cheeks. You jumped at the sensation. All hot suddenly. “Mm. This fine tonight?” He asked with a low murmur. 

You nodded, realising he couldn’t see you so you tried your best to make some valid noise. “Uh huh.” 

You moaned when he applied pressure to the sensitive rim, circling it with a skill he’d had much practice with. He really couldn’t resist anything to do with your ass. In any way, shape or form. “You make me feel so good, baby.” He got out between shallow breathing. “Spoil me. I love you.” Voice sweet with a confession he’d uttered a million times before. 

“L-love you too,” you stuttered out, noticeably slowing down now because you were too overcome with pleasure. He moved, thumb leaving you for his hand to hold your middle. Clutching at your stomach. Any skin he can reach really. 

“Not fair. I wanna touch you more.” There was a pout in his voice, and before you could even think about replying, he was up. Bare chest against your back. Strong arms around your middle, clinging you to him. “Wh-at are you doing?” You gasped, his dick now lodged inside you deep. You were both slick with sweat, and it just felt so damn good. 

He used one hand to unclasp your bra, pulling it down from the centre. It fell against your middle, and he kissed your neck in a frenzy. “I’m taking control now.” He managed to whisper, squeezing one of your breasts, and then you were on your back. 

You didn’t know how it happened so fast. You didn’t recall him leaving your body, or when he pushed back in. Dazed. But he had, and it felt amazing. His thrusts fast paced and powerful. 

“Oh. Jungkook–!” You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck because that’s all you could do. Cling desperately to him. Your legs followed, tight around his middle. 

“Feels good?” His teeth were bared, voice tight as he kept fucking you relentlessly. He grabbed your thighs, hiking your legs up further. The mattress groaned, your body ramming into it harder every passing second. 

“Mmmhmm–!” 

You were loud and free with your noises now, not caring a damn, because this was what it was all about. This kind of pleasure. And you knew no one else would be able to satisfy you like this. This was the power of years together. Jungkook and you were so in tune that you were one person when connected like this. 

He grunted after a few minutes, pace turning uneven. “I’m not gonna last any longer. ‘Specially with you moaning like that.” As he said that, another moan dragged from your throat. “Fuckk.” His face fell into the crook of your neck. He was panting, brow soaked with sweat, and you knew you needed to put him out of his misery. Your pleasure meant the most to him and he wouldn’t give up until he was certain you were fulfilled. Even if he was close to passing out. 

“I already came really good thanks to you,” you whispered against where you thought his ear was. “It’s okay. Cum in me, baby. You know you want to.” 

He choked on his whimper, coming undone almost instantly because of your words. Hips jerking as he spilled inside of you, until there was nothing left and he couldn’t take anymore. He slid from you naturally, growing flaccid. 

“You’re evil,” he whined after he’d come to, turning his head to look at you. You could just make out his face behind all that tousled hair. 

“Don’t talk nonsense. Since when has asking you to bust a nut inside me been evil?” 

He yawned, chuckling as he rolled off you, slipping an arm under the pillow to prop his head up. “It’s evil. So is jumping my dick when I wasn’t prepared. It’s a wonder I didn’t cum the second you pushed down on me” 

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t’ve minded. Wouldn’t be the first time...” 

“Cheeky,” he chided, and you scooched closer to him, a grin on your face. He kissed you and pulled back, running some hair behind your ear. “You okay now? Green eyed monster gone?” 

You grumbled. “I wasn’t jealous.” He looked at you with one of those looks. One that told you he thought you were talking shit. “Okay. Maybe slightly.” Like you said, more annoyed than anything. Sungha was still working next weekend. No amount of good banging would distract you from that conclusion. 

Jungkook smiled at you softly, hand now on your cheek. “As if I would ever want another woman as much as I want you.” 

“Cheesy.” But you couldn’t help your own smile. 

“That’s me.” He yawned again, arms in the air as he stretched. You watched him for a moment before he realised. He knew what was coming before you even began saying it. You still did though. 

“You need to cut your hair.” 

“Shut up.” 

He really would not have it. It wasn’t like you hated his long hair. Actually, you loved it. Wish he’d grown it sooner. But he still needed regular trims. You were sick of waking up in the morning thinking you were sharing the bed with Bigfoot. 

He went to kiss you but you blocked him with your hands, giggling as he tried to barge his way through. “Hey!” He complained. “Let me kiss you woman!” 

He grabbed a hold of your waist, tickling you, and just like that you began shrieking, wriggling about, trying to get away from him. “No, wait! Stoppp,” you yelled, trying to push him away. “Jungkook, stop. Seriously!!” He was rubbing his face against your cheek, stubble on his top lip tickling you even more. “Stop! I’m getting your cum everywhere.” 

The amount of times you had to wash your sheets because of “accidents” was getting frustrating. He understood that too. And as much as he loved doing laundry (yeah, you didn’t understand it either...), he didn’t love it that much. He stopped instantly, landing a kiss on your cheek. 

“And who’s fault is that? If you weren’t such a cumslut...” 

“EWWW.” You roared, pushing him away again. “Shut up, that will never be sexy!” 

You two had this thing together. It was weird, but then again you both weren’t exactly normal. He would find something utterly cringeworthy said in porn, or you did—maybe you both did—and you would laugh about it together for days, sometimes even weeks. You’d come out with it at random times, with the sole purpose of making the other laugh. Although you did admit, tonight your reaction was... over the top, to say the least. You were drunk after all. No. Merry! 

“Shhhh,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “You’re yelling the whole place down. We have neighbours, y’know...” 

You settled down, giggling softly together before you began to grow sleepy against his body warmth. Of course he had to disturb you. “Got enough energy to get to the bathroom? I need a piss.” 

You whined. “Gross.” 

“How is that gross? It’s a natural body function.” You stayed quiet until he had to nudge you. “C’mon. We need to get ready for bed.” 

“Fine.” You huffed but didn’t move. 

“I’ll carry you.” He sang softly. 

And he did. 

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020