#once again i’m rambling instead of playing. i just spent ages planning this and have things to say tho lmao

[danielnelsen]

hrm so i’m doing an ice type-only sword run now and i’ve reached the big dilemma point of…… there are ACTUAL legendaries i could go and get before the first gym. dynamax adventures have articuno and kyurem at level 70 so they would sweep most of the rest of the game.

that’s……. kinda against the spirit of the challenge (ice types suck so it’s meant to be hard and strategic) but i also do want to get them at some point. 70 is higher than the big endgame fights so it’s not like i can just get them when they’re no longer overleveled….

[wil-is-done]

Leftovers

Summary: Another world-altering event, another group of children left to pick up the pieces. One girl, in particular, might still play host to a malevolent entity. The MK and the Psychonauts send in Raz and Lili to investigate.

Word Count: 2.077

-

Raz always finds the droning thrum of the Psychonauts’ jets to be oddly therapeutic, but maybe that’s simply a symptom of cabin fever speaking, caused by spending far too much time of his life sitting in one. But, until someone invents instant teleportation or portal tech that doesn’t involve horrific mutilations, the jets are the only reasonable option. 

“What was that about mutilations?” 

Raz shrugs at his partner, seated beside him. “Eh, nothing. Just mind ramblings.”

Lili stares for a moment more, before her eyes return to the windshield ahead.

Just in time for the jet to descend below the clouds and an iconic sign rises into view. A tad scorched and bent, but still easily recognizable. 

“Kinda wild that we’re globetrotting agents, and I’m pretty sure I’ve only been to L.A., like, five times,” Raz says.

“It’s the Mecca of entertainment, not of apocalyptic horror.”

Raz breathes a chuckle. “One more way Hollywood lies to us.” 

Lili wills the jet to bank left – a nearby parking lot looks just empty enough to park an aircraft on.

“Still think it’s complete bull how the gang shunted this onto us.” Raz stretches his legs, get the blood flowing again.

“Suck it up.” A flick of the wrist, and the jet rights itself above the lot, drawing dozens of eyes. “We had no choice. The mess over on the other Coast is… substantial.” 

“Dipper got to pick.” Raz hops to his feet, bouncing on his heels. “I wanted the train.”

“And instead, you got the frog brain.” Even as she starts lowering the jet, Lili smirks up at him. “Life on this bitch of an Earth.”

Raz leaves the cockpit, but not before replying with a wry smile, “Weird, wild bitch of an Earth.” 

-

“You two need something?”

The blonde one – Sasha – speaks first, after an age of the trio silently gawking at Raz and Lili’s approach. 

“Miss Boonchuy, Miss Waybright, Miss Wu. Hello,” Lili greets, because she gets to go first, like they planned. “I am Agent Lili Zanotto, this is Agent Raz Aquato. We are with the Psychonauts.”

“Sup,” Raz adds.

Lili exhales through her polite smile.

Eight years. You’ve been an agent for eight years, Raz.

Raz’s smile curls wider.

And I still got it.

“You know us?” Another asks – Anne. She steps as if to shield her friends, born from instinct. 

Lili maintains the cordial air. “Hard not to. You were responsible for some pretty incredible things.”

The spark shines in their eyes nearly all at once. A familiar look for a familiar feeling. The realization that when your world is turned upside down, you can’t ever really turn it rightside up. Have they reached acceptance? Probably not.

One of the girls at the back – Marcy, the person of interest here – seems especially spooked. Whispers of fleeing plague her surface thoughts. Might be time to step in.

“Also, we met. Hi again.” Raz waves at Anne. 

Anne blinks, glances at her friends, then back at Raz. “We did?”

“Yep. Spent most of the time deeply apologizing for the stuff that X guy did. Sorry about that, again,” Raz says, adding a cringe. Then, for some humor. “I’m also the dingus who got his ass swatted out of the sky.”

“Oh dang, that’s you.” Anne’s jaw drops. “You’re still alive?”

“Eh. Been through worse.” 

“Cool. Heartfelt reunion. Boutta bawl my eyes out.” Sasha’s turn to step in front of her friends, gaze narrowed and cold. “Now what do you government stooges want?”

Looks to be on the same wavelength as Lili. Raz nearly giggled.

“We are here because of your friend, Marcy.” Lili chooses her words carefully, clinically. “She was… cerebrally compromised, wasn’t she?”

Silence creeps out from the tree shades and overtakes this corner of the park. Anne and Sasha look towards each other, eyes lost, before both turn to the stone-faced Marcy.

“Was,” Marcy speaks, finally. “It’s gone now.”

“And we’re with you on that. We are sure it is,” Lili says. “We just want to make sure. A hundred percent sure. As Psychonauts, we can help you with that.”

Marcy’s tone is slow. “Help how?”

“We have a special device that allows us to enter a person’s mind. With your permission, we can easily hop in directly and have a look around. Nice and simple.”

Marcy is quiet, but not at all calm. Even without skimming her surface thoughts, Raz can tell.

“You want… to be let in?” Her voice drops lower and lower, like the shoreline receding before a tsunami. “You think, after what I’ve been through, I’ll ever let the door open again?!”

“Miss Wu, I promise the process is-”

The wave rushes back in full force. Marcy spins and runs off. Anne and Sasha don’t waste a second to follow her. Lili, cut off with her mouth agape, exhales a growl.

“You’re bad at teenage-girling.”

“Sorry I had to kill the girl to become the agent,” Lili retorts. “Where’s a Norman when you need one?”

“Norman’s better, but I’m not sure how effective he’d be to three teenage girls.”

“Good point.” Lili slides open her phone. “Where’s a Mabel when you need one?”

-

Not how Anne thought her day would go, but it never does ever since her thirteenth birthday. They caught up to Marcy at the edge of the park, faking a neutral face and steady hands. Anne wanted to push, but that scar is too raw, too fresh, for all three of them, so she zipped her lips for now. It’s almost lunchtime anyway, and she already promised earlier the day’s special at Thai Go. 

“Alright, girls, mind cleanse,” Sasha says as she drops their plates on the table, sitting opposite Anne. “The past hour? We don’t see it. Never happened.”  

Marcy, next to Sasha, is clutching her head, eyes closed. “Trying here, trust me.”

Still, something nags at the base of Anne’s memory. “But don’t those two look familiar, though?” she wonders aloud. “Feels like a pair of faces we’ve all seen before.”

“Pair of feces, more like. Eyoo!” 

“Sash, serious. It’s right there, tip of my tongue, just need to brain harder…” Anne clenches her eyes shut, massaging her temples, trying to squeeze some good brain juice to spit out the name she needs. And it works. “The Mystery Kids!” 

The name jolts her friends to attention. It’s a current that connects to the memory, connects to breaking newsreels, bold article headlines, and viral clips. Anne can see in their eyes, they recognize the name.

“Gotta be them! Those folks who legit saved the world a bunch of times.” Anne reaches across to grasp Marcy’s shoulders. “Marce, if they think something’s up-”

Marcy shrugs off her hands. “So what? We saved two at the same time, and no one gave us a degree or a certificate or anything. We’re still in middle school, they look like they’re in college. What qualifications do they have?” She hugs herself, suddenly so small. “For one last time, let’s just do what Sasha says, forget about it all, and just have lunch with- you!”

Mid-step, midway through Thai Go’s front door, a pair of Psychonaut agents pause. The goggled one points at himself. “Us?”

Sasha shoots out from her seat, spoon and fork on each hand like her old swords. “Case you didn’t know, stalking’s a crime.” She twirls the utensils, falling into a practised stance. “Or are you the types that think you’re above silly things like laws?”

“This is a restaurant. It’s lunchtime.”

“There are over 30.800 restaurants in Los Angeles. To have both our groups choose the same one is a statistical improbability!” Marcy rises and points at the agents like that fruity attorney. “You have a likely cause and intent. Now begone, government goggle-man!” 

The man shrugs. “Sure, fine, the Boonchuys own the place, so we went here. Not a bad bet, yeah?”

“Ha! An admission!” Marcy slams a fist on the table.

“See you on the judge’s stand, stooges! When we win this case!”

“Alright, you two, chill.” Anne stands up, putting herself between her friends and the agents. She maintains a passive expression, eyeing the agents. “Mister Aquato and Miss Zanotto, right?”

“Oh, ew, let’s not pull out the big Ms, yeah? We’re, like, five years older than you.” He lounges back, arms behind his head. “Just Raz and Lili is fine.” 

Anne has to admit, how disarming this Raz is, it’s nice. “How sure are you that Marcy has… Core leftovers in the brain?”

“Percentage-wise, zero,” Raz answers. “We’re not sure of anything. This is not a treatment, it’s a check-up. It’s going to your local GP twice a year.” 

“Or, perhaps, therapy,” his partner, Lili, adds. “More direct than a conventional session, and by no means a replacement, but achieves roughly the same result.”

“Yeah, advanced therapy. Think of it that way, if it makes you feel better, Marcy.”

The direct name mention makes Marcy bristle, but at least she sits down.

“And like I was saying, the process is completely harmless.” Lili steeples her fingers together. “In addition, you will be in there, with us, the entire time. Everything we do, you’ll be aware of it.” 

Anne watches her friends, closely. Sasha moves as if sheathing the utensils, eyes cast on her shoes. Marcy inhales a calming breath, cheeks tinted a smidge darker, tangling her fingers together.

“That’s… reassuring, right, girls?” Anne asks.

Marcy can’t quite lift her eyes. “Maybe my reaction earlier was a bit… premature.” 

“You’re touchy about being prodded in the noggin’. That’s perfectly sensible,” Raz says.

“Plus, let’s not kid ourselves,” Sasha sighs with a joyless smile, “not going to therapy is how this all went to shit in the first place.”

“Still your decision to make, Marcy,” Raz says.

Marcy closes her eyes, thinking for a moment more. “Can Anne and Sasha come with?”

“Of course, Miss Wu.” Lili nods, razor thin smile on her lips. “First, we might want to move to a more private place?”

“My place is closest,” Anne offers. “That good with everyone?”

A general nod or agreeing noise comes from everyone.

“Gotcha. I’ll tell my folks. But first,” Anne flips a menu into her hand, offering it to the agents, “basil and squid special?”

-

“Side note,” Raz grins, “government goggle-man? Definitely going into my business card.”

“It will not.”

“Will to.” 

“I outrank you.”

Raz chuckles, conceding.

After ‘accidentally’ running into the girls proved to be a smashing success, the lunch they shared afterwards smoothed out any remaining significant bumps between them. Anne, in particular, took on the lion’s share of convincing her friends. She’s got a certain aptitude and her particular experience really shines through in moments where it’s needed.

Next time they have seats open, Raz is definitely slotting her in as a candidate.

The short stroll to Anne’s house was lovely. Anne volunteered her room to be where the ‘advanced therapy’ takes place. Marcy is made to lie down on Anne’s bed with both her friends flanking her, holding her hands.

Lili stands next to Raz, holding the specialized Psycho-Portal with its underage safeguard removed, modified specifically for this extraordinary circumstance, and which will be promptly incinerated after the procedure is completed. Raz clasps his gloved hands together.

“Ready?”

Marcy breathes in, and out. “I’m all in.”

“Before we begin, Marcy,” Raz starts, “Some things you need to know, just in case we do discover… leftovers.” 

She swallows the growing lump in her throat, listening close.

“When we’re in there, we can help you, support you, be a solid bedrock for you to lean on. You can count on us.” Raz offers his best reassuring smile. “But, ultimately, the results of this, whether we succeed or not, it’s up to you. You have to want it. Sometimes, wanting to win is the hardest thing.”

For a moment, her eyes flicker with doubt.

“She’s got this,” Sasha says, her hold on Marcy’s hand strengthening. 

“Yeah. She’s been through the hardest thing. We all did.” Anne holds their joined hands close to her chest, the grip soft yet firm.

Just like that, the doubt is snuffed out.

Marcy closes her eyes. Lili places the Psycho-Portal on her forehead, then steps back.

The agents share one last, brief glance.

Might be bad in there.

Please. Nothing’s as bad as my not-grandma.

Lili concedes.

The Psycho-Portal opens. Light spills out, filling Raz’s vision. The hard part of his job begins. 

-

This fic was commissioned by @rarsonic, who wanted to see Marcy be investigated by the Psychonauts, and the MK by extension, over potentially having some Core leftovers in the brain. Super sorry for the long delay. Been a hot minute since I wrote for any of these characters, and I was for sure rusty getting back into it. Still, here’s hoping you all can still enjoy it.

If any of y’all are interested in commissioning me, it’s still open, folks! Details are on the pinned post.

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

 It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused.

CW: MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, IMPLIED SMUT, AGE GAP, LANGUAGE, DADDY KINK. (LMK IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE)

PART ONE

PART TWO

A/N: Shiiit!!! Sorry this mediocrity took so long!!! Anyway, let me know if you want me to clear anything up and please let me know if you like it. Kisses <3

I had the right to be upset, but I knew I shouldn’t be. Hotch was right, I could not work the case nor was I in the state to. It was for my own good and maybe the sanity of the rest of the team. I was a mess. He “ordered” me to go get some sleep in the breakroom, knowing I would never agree to go home. But like always, I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual and my brain began me to torture me with a movie of my most recent memories. 

9 Days Ago 

Friday - 8:49 PM

“I waannt Thaiiii foooood!” Only she could make my heart melt while simultaneously whining and disagreeing with me. She tightened her grip on my hand, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“We had Thai last week.” I looked down at her as we continued walking down the streets. “And plus, you love the Greek place.” She pouted and continued to ramble about why Thai was so much better. Even complaining, her company was so comforting and calming that I was genuinely relaxed, despite the roars of taxi cabs and the indistinct chatter of drunk city goers. 

“Oh my god! Don’t look! Do not look left!” She skipped to my right, “Look-look at me!” I watched her skip around me and cling to my right arm before her little hands grabbed my face and pressed her mouth to mine. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried to get out of her grip but she cut me off by pressing her body to mine and continuing the frenzied kiss. As soon as she needed a breath, I spun in the other direction. “You’re a monster.” I grabbed her hand and we ran to it immediately. A life-size and functioning chess board under an array of colorful lanterns and vines. It was probably a contemporary art piece and I silently thanked whoever created it. I wrapped my arms around her as I excitedly admired it. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” I whispered into the small of her neck. “Is it because I always beat you at chess?” 

She backed up from me offended, “You don’t always beat me!” 

I grabbed her once more, not liking the space between us. “If you took all of our games, looked at my wins and your losses, I’ve won 98% of the time.” 

“Yeah well…” she tiptoed and grazed her lips against mine, “I win 100% of the time.” I was confused, “At this.” She pressed her entire body to mine and finally kissed me.

“You,”

Kiss.  

“Don’t know,” 

Kiss. 

“What you’re,”

Kiss.

“Starting little,”

Kiss.

“Girl.” 

She grabbed my hand and twirled herself around just to fall back onto me. I caught her, just like she knew I would. I trusted her and she trusted me, and that was the best feeling in the world. “I love you.” I said, still supporting all her weight. 

She stood upright and gave me a light kiss. “I love you so much Spencer.” 

I couldn’t see anything in the world but her. “I would do anything for you.” 

She perked up with a sneaky glint in her eye, “Would you eat Thai two weeks in a row?” She grinned. 

I sighed. She won. “Yeah,” I pushed the hair out of her face, “I would. Let’s go get some.” 

“If..” she rolled her eyes, “We play on the walk back.” I motioned to the board. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“You’re on Dr. Reid.” she snarked back. 

8 Days Ago

Saturday - 2:31 PM

Saturday was one of those stereotypical rainy days where the world seemed slowed. The pitter patter of the raindrops and the light music of her favorite record created a symphony of other-worldly peace for me. I left our room, and there she was, my perfect girl sitting criss crossed at my desk. I perched over her, laying a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“So..I was thinking macaroons…” she scrolled through different catering sites, “But cupcakes are a must too.” I watched her plan in adoration. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything. But I wanted to marry this girl and spend every last day of my life like this one and there was no question about it. It was that simple. 

“Spence?” she broke me out of my lovelorn daydreams of growing old together.

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Chocolate or red velvet? There is one right answer.” her eyes narrowed. 

“Oh,” I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, “Red velvet. All the way.” 

“You really are a genius.” She teased and began to scribble ‘Red Velvet’ on the small notebook next to her. I looked at the list of random little things she’d written down in preparation for the day. It assured me she was just as infatuated with the idea of a future together as I was. I sighed, “Even your handwriting is cute.” 

“Duh..” she retorted and I rolled my eyes, “Can I read you the food list?” I gently lifted her off the desk seat, “You can read it to me on the couch maybe?” 

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. I sat first, and she took the opportunity to crawl in my lap. It’s like our bodies were made for each other because she just fit so perfectly there. 

“For the dessert table, hazelnut, pistachio and vanilla macaroons. From the French bakery in downtown. Obviously.  Red velvet cupcakes from that bakery JJ told me about. Remember the ones she ordered for her baby shower?” I nodded. “Those.”

“White chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and if I get my way..”

“You always do.” I teased. “Yeah, and don’t forget it.” she smiled, “Tiny little cheesecake squares.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I said. “Of course! A lot of tiny desserts are waaay better than one big cake.” 

“And more sanitary.” It was her turn to sigh.

“Yes yes, and more sanitary.” She laid her head in my chest and closed her eyes.

 “I told Penelope we’d meet her at the restaurant at 3.” 

“But it’s raining!” I complained. Truthfully, I just didn’t want this moment to end. She gave me a look and I stopped my protests. “Y’know if we order an Uber instead of taking the metro, we might have time to take a nice…” her words purposely trailed, “Long...hot shower.” She didn’t really have to say much else, batting her eyelashes to give this heart wrenching illusion of innocence. I wasn't buying it. Then, being way too coy for her age, she ran her hands up my chest and flashed me a coquettish grin. It was textbook but, goddd. Her smile alone turned me on to an extent it shouldn’t. 

I let her off my lap and stood up instantly, grabbing her hand and leading her to our bathroom. “Now.”

7 Days Ago 

Sunday - 9:22 AM 

The view convinced me I had died and arrived in heaven. I had to be. Where else but heaven does an angel perch themselves on your lap? No, though. It wasn’t heaven. It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused. 

She kissed down my neck and I swore my heart would burst out of my chest. She paused and sat up to say “When was the last time we got a whole weekend together like this?” 

I rubbed her arms up and down, “I can’t even remember.” 

“Me neither.” She kind of sounded like she wanted to say something else, but I didn’t really care, kissing her open mouth and rocking my hips up to hers. She was panting by the time my hands met her chest. “Please,” she whined, “Daddy, please.” 

She had no idea what she was asking for but I did. So I gave it to her. 

I would give her anything. 

6 Days Ago 

Monday 7:02 AM 

“Bye baby.” I kissed her still bed-headed hair. 

“NOooo!” she tried to pull my satchel back into her mess of sheets. 

“I’m sorry.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her head into my lap and I caressed her forehead. 

“You have class today.” I felt her twitch, “An important one. You should eat a good breakfast.” 

“I know.” she said sadly. I registered that the sadness was less about class, and more about the fact we both knew this was goodbye for at least a couple days. Time spent together was bliss and days apart were agonizing, regardless of how important both of our responsibilities were. 

“Hey, think about what a good weekend we had.” I gently reminded her. 

“I know but now you’re gonna be gone.” The pain in her voice brought me the kind of sorrow that you didn’t wish upon your worst enemy. 

“Not for too long, little girl.” I kissed her forehead again, “I promise.” 

She got up and sighed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t blame her either. 

“I’m sorry.” She just shook her head. 

“Don’t be. Go save some lives Dr. Reid.” there was a gentle smile on her face as she said the words, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” I enveloped her in a hug with nothing but love, and she still couldn't resist teasing me, “Or maybe drunk at a Frat house, I don’t know.” 

My eyes went wide and the thought immediately gave me anxiety, “Please, do not. Do you know-” She shut me up with a kiss and I silently thanked her for it. “I love you Spencer. I’ll see you soon.” “I love you more.” I got up and headed for the door, “Sooner than later, okay?” 

She nodded, “Okay.” 

3 Days Ago 

Wednesday 2:10 AM 

I silently stepped through the apartment, relishing in the stillness that meant just maybe, my begging Y/N not to waste sleep over me had worked, but I still doubted it. Her listening to my instructions was like a solar eclipse: disappointingly rare. 

As soon as I made it to the bedroom though, I was pleasantly surprised. She was asleep, but not yet under the covers. Poor thing had tried to stay up, but couldn’t. As much as I wanted to instantly smother her in affection, I restrained myself only to admire the sight of her in nothing but underwear and a grey cardigan of mine. She’d only done a single button too, obscuring the direct view so her figure was just barely covered. It was incredibly attractive and she knew it.

I began to undress, trying to remain silent as I exchanged my tie and vest for pajama pants and the Caltech sweater on the dresser. I didn’t wear it much before she did. In fact, I’d only started wearing it because despite it being 5 sizes too big for her, she adored it. For the first couple months of knowing her, it was the only thing she slept in. And because of that, it smelled like her perfume. Nestling myself into bed next to her, I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, while trying to gently pull the sheets out from under her. 

“Get under the covers.” Her eyes fluttered open, “Spence...Spencer?” She smiled, “Spencer!” 

She buried herself impossibly closer to my chest, arms and legs wrapping around me like a…

“You’re like a panda.” I laughed. She giggled, “You’re bamboo.”

“Are you calling me a stick-skinny? That’s hurtful, y/n.” We laughed harder until I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. The kisses were long and sweet as we both savored the reunion. She tugged on the sweater I wore, “Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” I brushed some hair out of her face. “It was mine first.” She rolled her eyes, “Pff...did you even go to Caltech?” She was trying so hard to control laughter, “Poser.” 

She laughed as I’m sure despite silence from me she could hear my internal screaming. 

Her laughter finally ceased when my grip on her got looser and my eyes hung a little lower. “Sleepy?” she asked. 

I nodded and so did she, “Me too.” We got under the covers together. 

“Hold me.” she hummed. “Hotch give you guys the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, recuperation. The case was...rough.” 

“You guys catch the guy?” she asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “That’s amazing Spence. You’re so amazing.” I held her tighter. 

“I love you.” I said. 

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” And so I did. 

2 Days Ago 

Thursday 6:30 PM

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

Present Day 

Sunday 11:45 PM

How did it all seem so incredibly long ago? The BAU break room couch was definitely not made for sleeping, and yet Hotch had insisted I come try to get some rest. What was the use? How was I supposed to rest knowing that Y/N was out there in so much danger? I couldn’t rest until we found her, everybody knew that. 

Morgan came rushing into the tiny room, “Garcia’s got a hit. Her father left her 3 of his commercial properties, one of which is an abandoned mall.” 

I wasn’t allowed to work on the profile, but this was, for lack of a better word, a clear trap. “Morgan, it can’t be that easy. We both know that.” 

“Kid, she’s having a psychotic break. Everything about this is disorganized. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s not that much of a stretch to say she’d go to a secluded place she figured we’d never find.”

“Was there a second stressor? JJ and I thought it might’ve been the proposal but…” 

“Reid, I’ll brief you in the car. Get your shit together and let’s go get Y/N.” 

----

Taglist: @slaterskaterslaterboi @frickin-bats @bxtchboy69​  @reidsbbg

@sassy-hades @jackiehollanderr @k-k0129 @spenceoffense​

(Comment to be added)

[chosonore]

part one | oblivion

oblivion [noun. the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 3.9k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re not strictly following the manga timeline bc while i am reading it, i do have a goldfish brain, lowercase intended

a/n: hello, here’s the first installment of my sanguine series! it’s the prequel of this drabble (nsfw) i wrote the other week while i was working on the outline of the fic. it’s a little slow burn because i wanted to spend some more time exploring their relationship and the groundwork for it, so yeah. i’ll try to update it regularly, but since i’ve only planned five parts for sanguine, it might take a while bc i want to take my time with it. if you want to stay updated with the series, i’ll post the masterlist to it shortly! i do hope you enjoy it though :) and stay safe, everybody! [tagging @sukirichi​ the sukuna to my yuuji, who just gets spammed when i start rambling about my aus but always screams with me (´• ω •`)]

masterlist - next 

"y/n!" you look up to see miwa storming towards you, thrusting a book in your direction. "could you- could you please give this to noritoshi? i borrowed this book from him like a week ago and if i don't return this anytime soon, i think he's gonna kill me." 

scowling at her, you look at the book in disdain. you wanted to avoid crossing paths with noritoshi as much as possible and miwa was well aware that you didn't like hi- 

"please," miwa pleaded again, taking your hands and placing the book in it. "i'm really scared of him. he always looks like he's going to shoot me soon. even todo is pretty nice if you don't interrupt his takada-chan time!" 

you sighed in annoyance, you just couldn't say no. ever since coming to the kyoto metropolitan curse tech, miwa and you had been pretty close because you strongly disliked the other students. most of them were arrogant and stuck-up, thinking they were better than the other; the two that belonged to the three clans were even worse. on your first day here you'd promptly gotten into a fight with mai, disliking how haughty she was and trying to prove everyone that she was better than them. much to your chagrin, the fight ended in a tie.

"fine, but you owe me some mango," miwa's face lit up in relief and she gave you a thumbs up before dashing to her room, most likely to escape noritoshi's wrath. you inspected the book. was it even worth returning it? maybe you could just throw it in the trash. if noritoshi ever found out, he'd kill miwa first and then you. you let out another sigh before making your way towards the training grounds. he most likely was outside to practice, either with one of the guys or alone. as you were nearing the training grounds, you could already hear the sound of arrows whistling and the dull thuds of them hitting the target. it was hard to spot him through all the trees; you weren't entirely sure where he was. your ears perked up when you heard him release another arrow until you realized that it was heading your way. this bastard. fortunately, you were able to slash the arrow clean in the middle, angrily pointing your sword in his direction. you still couldn't see him anywhere.

"you fucking idiot! you could've killed me," you snarled, stomping deeper into the forest. an amused laugh echoed through the trees. 

"you're acting like i can't control my arrows. it's not my fault you let your guard down," noritoshi retorted smugly, lowering his bow as he saw you approaching. you were fuming, hurling the book at him. how dare he? you watched with satisfaction as it hit him square in the chest - who was caught off guard now, huh? he deserved it anyways. 

"miwa asked me to return your book," you curtly explained and turned back around to leave but apparently, noritoshi had other plans. instead of saying anything else, he just followed you which unsettled you even more. 

"stop following me." 

"who said i was following you? i'm just going back to the dorms. i'm sorry you can't handle me being near you."

you whirled around, sword pointing dangerously close to his neck. he smirked at you triumphantly, it was just too easy to get a rouse out of you. "another word and i'll cut you, seriously. you're pissing me off," you gritted your teeth, hating that you always fell for his stupid games. he knew you all to well, what made you angry, what made you happy, what motivated you. once upon a time, you'd thought the same about him; until he changed so rapidly, so unlike your expectations. you were worlds apart and yet you'd reserved an ounce of hope that he wouldn't turn out to be as arrogant as the clan heads. swift as the wind, noritoshi grabbed your wrist, dragging it upwards and towards him until he could lean down to you. your heartbeat sped up - holy shit why was he so close to you - and you froze in shock. 

"i'd like to see you try, princess," he whispered in your ear, the grip on your wrist tightening. "you wouldn't dare to."

the first time you met noritoshi, he was sitting outside in the garden with his mum. both seemed to have a good time. noritoshi's hair was tousled from the soft summer breeze and he had a soft smile on his face, happily munching away on the snacks that were displayed on the table. while he looked friendly enough, you were wary of meeting and talking to him because you felt kind of queasy around the kamo family. you couldn’t quite place a finger on the feeling, the older members of the family intimidating you to no end. much to your dismay, you felt like you had to be watchful - your parents worked for the kamo family, so naturally the apartment you lived in was close to the estate. you avoided any run ins with the adults, they weren’t exactly friendly to you. noritoshi’s mum had befriended your mum and they spent a lot of time together when possible. and yet you’d never met noritoshi before, seeing how busy he was with his various classes.

the fit that you threw, not wanting to tag along with your mum, was long forgotten when you’d spotted the jar of cookies on the table. before your mum could react, you pulled your hand away from hers and quickly ran towards it. “hello miss!” you greeted enthusiastically, your eyes shining at the sight of the sweets. “my name is y/n! i’m here with my mum and i uhm… could i have some of the cookies? please?” when your mum finally caught up to you, she scolded you quietly and greeted the other two, taking a seat beside noritoshi’s mum. you pouted, immediately climbing on her lap as you refused to sit next to the boy. his mum handed you a cookie which you happily took and thanked her politely. noritoshi was curiously eyeing you; it wasn’t often that he saw other children around his age and he didn’t have any friends to play with. his everyday life revolved around reading books, studying, taking archery classes and sometimes spending time with his mum. noritoshi barely even knew what fun was - he’d only ever felt at peace when he was around his mum.

“y/n, sweetie, why don’t you go and play with noritoshi?” your mum prompted but you immediately shook your head, hiding your face in her chest. she simply laughed and shook her head, brushing your hair back softly. “come on, noritoshi is really nice. you can be his friend one day, right? didn’t i tell you that friends are important?” 

you frowned. then huffed. when she worded it like this, there was no way you could refuse. the cartoon that you religiously watched featured a group of friends that went on adventures and helped each other out. you’d told your mum that you wanted to be like that too! begrudgingly, you slid off her lap and trudged towards noritoshi who looked at you with big eyes. you held your hand out, waiting for him to shake it. “my name is y/n. uhm… nice to meet you,” you shyly whispered, eyes darting away from him. 

it took a while until noritoshi reacted, shaking your hand gently and answering: “hello y/n, i’m noritoshi.”

much to your surprise, noritoshi was actually fun to be around with. he showed you his collection of books, the bow that he was practicing with and you often played the card game you’d received for your birthday together. he was smart and witty, often explaining you things that he’d read in a book but he was also attentive when he listened to you ramble about the other kids in school or when you told him about the cartoon that you were watching. for you, noritoshi was becoming your best friend - for noritoshi, you were his first friend. he cherished you and how unabashedly true to yourself you were. spending time with you was something he looked forward to; you always made him laugh and you didn’t care whether he lived up to the kamo family name or not. to you, he was simply noritoshi. you were like a fresh breeze of air in his life.

noritoshi didn't quite understand why the elders were always so hard on him, so strict and unrelenting. they expected only the best results from him and didn't show any understanding when he exhausted. he didn't enjoy practice anymore, the lessons becoming a chore and burden on his mind. but whenever he saw your face light up at his newly acquired skills, he thought it was worth the trouble. you came to visit him everyday after school, never skipping a day. sometimes he questioned why you weren't visiting your friends from school but you shook your head, poking his chest indignantly. "you're my best friend, 'toshi. of course i'd want to spend more time with you." noritoshi was glad you always chose him, without fail.

even though your parents had always warned you to be careful around noritoshi because his family was strict and didn't like outside influences distracting the heir, you never really strayed from his side. noritoshi didn't have any other friends, who would keep him company or listen to his troubles then? you didn't understand why your parents were suddenly going back on their word. they'd always told you that family and friends were important. you couldn't pinpoint your feelings for him - but your parents saw it. it was obvious; the stars in your eyes when you looked at him, the slight blush on your cheeks when he complimented you and how happy you were when you got to spend time with him. the more time you spent with him, the more they were worried for you. 

"'toshi!" you yelled in excitement as you ran towards him, waving wildly. he dropped his bow and turned to you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he opened his arms to hug you. you squeezed him tightly. two weeks you hadn't seen him due to a school trip after which you got sick and weren't able to leave the house. you'd missed him a lot and you were excited to show him the souvenirs you brought him. 

"look, i bought you an omamori!" you handed him the small object, then pointing on your bag to show him the one you'd bought for yourself. "i got myself a matching one too! my teacher said it wards off evil spirits and brings you luck." noritoshi's smile was bright, so bright. he was happy you thought of him and were always kind to him. your eyes widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek before thanking you. the two of you were blushing, neither saying a word but not minding what had just happened.

the day noritoshi's mother left the estate was the day you were slowly starting to lose him. noritoshi grew more forlorn and didn't seem to easily find joy in anything anymore. the departure left a deep, deep gap in his heart. it had shocked him deep to the core when she left him. him. why couldn't she stay? why did she leave him when she was the only person who protected him, loved him? she did say that she was hindering his growth but who was she to decide that? he didn't want to become stronger, didn't want to protect other people like she'd told him to. he wanted to stay with her. "'toshi? 'toshi!" a concerned voice broke through his trance, pulling him back into reality. "i asked you a question! you weren't even listening to me." 

you were pouting at him, tugging at his sleeve impatiently. noritoshi apologized, patting your head to soothe your temper. "what do you want to do in the future? mum said it's important to work towards your dreams!" you asked him curiously, grasping his hand to hold it. the gesture filled him with indescribable warmth, drawing him in like a moth to the flames. "my mum said i have a special power, i can heal people! i want to become a doctor in the future, so i can help everyone that got hurt," you explained to him so earnestly that he felt bad for the lie he was about to tell. noritoshi didn't have big dreams or ambitions just yet. he didn't even know what would be suitable to him - he was strictly following orders, never allowed to think for himself. 

but when he looked at you, he only had one wish. "i think… i think i want to help people, protect them. especially those that i love."

with each year passing, you noticed that noritoshi was putting more and more distance between the two of you. at first you'd brushed it off as the stress of his training and number of classes he was attending. but as you spent less and less time together, the weight of the situation didn’t escape you. he was easily irritable, cold and arrogant, often rude towards employees of the kamo estate. every now and then when you’d scold him for being an asshole, he’d simply scoff at you and haughtily ask you how it was any of your business. you sighed, tossing and turning in your bed as you thought about how much noritoshi had changed. it kept you up at night, just thinking about how he wasn’t your ‘toshi anymore. you didn’t know this person. ‘toshi was always gentle and kind, he tended to overthink many things and sometimes he was a little bit of a crybaby but you still loved him regardless. you sneaked out of your room, finally mustering up enough courage to ask your mother for advice. the thought of her discovering your blooming crush on noritoshi was scaring you. your parents were wary around the kamos despite working from them - even more so ever since noritoshi’s mother left and the elders had free reign over her son.

“noritoshi! noritoshi, stop walking away from me! hey, i’m talking to you!” you yelled frustrated as you were trying to keep up with him. noritoshi was crossing the garden in long strides, it was nearly impossible to stop him as you couldn’t catch up to him. you lunged forward, getting hold of his sleeve and tugged him back harshly. noritoshi yanked his arm out of your grip, glaring at you annoyed. 

“what do you want from me? i have better things to do than to quibble with you,” he hissed irritated. you couldn’t believe him, he had the nerve to dismiss you like this when he was in the wrong? 

“you know exactly what i want from you! you can’t just go around and talk to people like you did before just because they’re not from a reputable family! noritoshi, you’re not any better than them just because your last name is kamo.”

as much as noritoshi scared you, you stood your ground. you knew he didn’t take you serious, not with the amused look he gave you. in the past month or two, noritoshi was suddenly hit by a growth spurt - you barely reached his shoulder now and he took advantage of that to mock you, often treating you like an armrest. he pat your head condescendingly, pouting at you in fake regret. “aw, did i hurt your feelings? did i make itty bitty little y/n sad?” he mocked you, before abruptly grabbing your cheeks to make you look at him. “i don’t care what you think of me, cry all you want. i strongly suggest you hold that sharp tongue of yours if you know what’s good. know your place.” 

tears filled your eyes; noritoshi had never talked to you this way. what has gotten into him? your heart broke in pieces, unable to take the pain any longer. you were no longer his equal but below him, much like everyone else.

“mum?” you cautiously knocked at the door of her study, waiting for her response. your mother was most likely still awake and dealing with paperwork like she usually did. upon hearing the affirmative noise she made, you flitted inside, closing the door behind you so your father didn’t catch any wind of this. it was already embarrassing enough and you were sure your mother could offer you better advice. you gingerly took a seat on the armchair, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to your body. how were you going to approach this? hey mum, i have a crush on noritoshi and he’s weird to me now and i don’t know why? uh yeah mum, i caught feelings for the guy you warned me about and now i look like a fool crawling up to you like this? 

“it’s about noritoshi, isn’t it?” your mother interrupted your stream of thought, spinning her swivel chair towards you. 

“huh? oh no it isn’t, why would it be? i have-” 

“y/n.” 

“ugh okay fine, maybe it is about him,” you sighed defeated, of course she would look right through you. she always seemed to know what you were thinking, even when you hadn’t confided in her before. “but promise me you won’t judge me!” the look in your mother’s eyes told you that she was going to judge you regardless but you knew she meant well - she simply wanted the best for you.

“i- i just don’t understand why he’s been such a pain in the ass lately. and he’s been treating everyone like dirt too, including me! mum, he’s becoming someone else and i… i don’t know what to do,” you sniffled inconsolably, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. she wasn’t supposed to see you getting emotional. “he’s always busy and when we do get to see each other, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. what if he doesn’t like me anymore? and i don’t like how he’s treating you! it’s the same issue with the elders, they don’t know any human decency at all!” 

your mother motioned you to scoot over a little and sat next to you, wrapping her arms around you and patting your back to console you. while she meant well, it accomplished the opposite - you broke down in tears, unable to stop your sobs. “i just want my ‘toshi back,” you whimpered upset, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the sound of you crying. “i know you didn’t like that i became good friends with him but i couldn’t help it and i just really like him and- you weren’t supposed to find that out.”

“sweetheart, i know you love noritoshi,” she handed you a tissue. “you let a lot more on than you were aware of; dad and me always knew you were in love with him.” as if on cue, your sobbing stopped and you just looked at her in disbelief. she knew. she knew. you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “i think it was always pretty obvious, to be honest. you always looked at him as if he was your entire world and no matter what happened, you were always by his side. i know it’s hard to accept when a dear friend is changing but sometimes you just have to, right? both of you are still growing, there’s no way of telling how your personalities change.”

“but i don’t want him to change like this,” you protested stubbornly, glaring at her. she was talking about it as if it was a matter of simply discarding a bad apple in the trash. it wasn’t easy and it made you anxious. you grew up together, shared secrets and memories. he was the person you’d always looked up to.

“y/n.” your mother sounded stern but you didn’t back down, not yet. “is it really worth it? if a person is changing so rapidly and you’re not getting through to them, you’ll have to let it go. there’s only so much you can do. people grow apart sometimes, it’s only natural. you have to let go of them, temporarily, so you both can heal and grow. y/n, i know you’re being stubborn about this but you’ll have to let him figure things out on his own. fate has curious ways to bring people back together.”

when the time came, noritoshi left to attend the kyoto metropolitan curse tech school without telling you a word. you were disappointed, apparently you weren’t worth saying goodbye to. whatever his reason was, it must’ve been pretty important. important enough to forget the promise that you’d always stay in contact. you wondered whether he'd change again, for the better maybe? maybe you would reconcile when you could finally attend the school as well and train together. you were excited to show him your sword skills, having received your family's heirloom, an elegant steel blue sword. though your skills probably weren’t up to par with the other students, you still wanted to show them off, show him what you’d learned in the year that you spent apart.

noritoshi had changed but not for the better. holy shit, did he get on your nerves. the first time he'd practiced with you, you realized that he had mutated into an insufferable know-it-all. he would give you backhanded compliments or make snide remarks about your posture, how you were supposed to hold your sword, how inefficient your fighting style was. sometimes you wished you could just beat him for once and have him shut up. there was no denying though, noritoshi was way too strong and you had a long way to go. judging from the reactions of the others, barely anyone had beat him either. 

and just like that, your feelings for him were buried. you’d taken your mother’s advice to heart, keeping conversations and interactions with him to a minimum but somehow noritoshi always found his way to you. he was everywhere and a quarrel was inevitable. noritoshi got under your skin and he knew how to push your buttons. why he chose to pick on you was beyond your comprehension; he didn’t pay much attention to the other students nor was he particularly liked by them. just how much was he going to get on everyone else’s nerves? out of all the second years, todo aoi was the most amicable; you had the (dis)pleasure to run into him on your first day and for some reason, he took a liking to you. while he was loud and boisterous, mostly doing whatever he wanted, you couldn’t deny that he was a good friend. even though he didn’t care about anyone as much as he cared about takada-chan. at one point, he’d looked at you in sympathy when he caught you staring at noritoshi, patting your shoulder (too forceful): “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m so sorry.” 

you still didn’t know what he meant by that.

ps.: todo knows and he’s kinda judging you for your taste in men 

[tataswish]

❝   at the rooftop  /  myg.

━   ・  paring:  aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━   ・ genre:  neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━   ・ word count:  5.0k.   ━   ・  contains:  mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━   ・  summary:  in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note:  i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of  the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.  

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳   PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

[mc-lukanette]

The rock star life wasn't what Luka thought it'd be, though he supposed he could attribute it to his father constantly talking it up and raising his standards so high that nothing could've competed with them. It wasn't that he hated going on tours or playing for crowds, but there was definitely something wrong that he couldn't put into words.

Juleka at least seemed sympathetic to his concerns once he'd gotten back from his recent tour, and he chuckled when she threw him some money to solve the problem, insisting that he eat his sorrows away for now and worry about details later. They'd both planned to visit their mother to celebrate his return, so it was only appropriate that he be in higher spirits for it.

Rose was happy to give him the address of what was - according to her - "the best bakery in Paris," with Juleka non-subtly implying that the money she'd given wasn't only for him. Thoroughly amused, he complied, leaving to follow the directions to said bakery with his phone.

He felt lucky to have not run into any fans on the way there, hoping that the same would go for the way back. The last thing he wanted was to have his boxes of baked goods accidentally knocked over and ruined.

As he saw the bakery in the distance, he was surprised when he noticed that it had been right next to his and Juleka's old school. He distinctly remembered there being a bakery, but the name Rose had given him hadn't rung any bells. He checked his phone out of curiosity and confirmed that the name had been changed since his sister had been in the school, replacing the "Tom & Sabine" with "Dupain-Cheng."

With that mystery solved, he headed for the front door and opened it up, smiling at the chime of the bell that announced his entrance. There weren't any other customers around, leaving the lone worker to look over and notice him: a woman, probably around Juleka's age, dressed a little nicer than he'd expect and seeming to be in the middle of making something.

At the sight of him, she gasped and covered her mouth. "Y-you're—Luka Couffaine?!"

He flinched, expecting a fangirl moment, but instead, the girl blushed in embarrassment and ran away from him. She went over to a nearby towel, cleaning her hands of flour, then put the towel back and checked over her clothes.

"Sorry," she whined, glancing up at her hair and fussing over it. "I wasn't expecting any customers for a while."

She took a breath, then strutted over to the counter with the fake demeanor of a businesswoman. Placing her hands delicately on the counter's surface, she flashed him a shy smile, blushing as she asked, "Um... how may I help you?"

Oh, she was cute. That was Luka's entire train of thought, and he hadn't been able to catch it before his mind had already put it forth for him to both acknowledge and agree with.

"Ah—" He cleared his throat, only now realizing that he'd never asked Juleka what she wanted to eat.

"Do you need a drink?" the woman questioned, looking at him worriedly.

"Oh, no. Thank you though," he replied with a dismissive wave. "That was—I need to ask my sister what she wants."

"No problem!" She giggled. "It's not like you're holding up the line."

Really cute.

He tossed her a smile, then fished out his phone and quickly texted Juleka, asking her what he should be ordering. He knew he could've called her, but he preferred having something written to hand off instead of having to be the middle man between the Juleka on the phone and the woman in front of him.

Setting his phone down on the counter, where he'd see it once Juleka texted him back, he then turned his gaze back up. "So, you know me?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm actually a huge fan, and I have all of your albums," she replied. "Buuuuut, I've dealt with a lot of... over-enthusiastic people in my life, so I know what it's like. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable." A beat of silence passed, and she playfully added, "Plus, I'm on the clock."

He chuckled, half-wondering if she was actually different outside of work. "And... is this place yours? I saw that the name changed."

"Sort of." She shrugged. "It's a family business. My papa is Tom Dupain, my maman is Sabine Cheng, and I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

He was glad she'd told him her name, thankful that he didn't have to non-subtly try to ask for her name now. Marinette.

She continued, "My parents went away on vacation, so I'm in charge." Puffing out her chest with pride, she assured, "I'm proving that I can handle everything myself."

Luka broke out into a huge grin, thoroughly charmed. "I'm sure you can. You definitely have the energy for it."

He tried to hide his amusement at seeing her try not to blush and turn shy from the compliment. She clearly wore her heart on her sleeve and couldn't hide anything if her life depended on it.

He'd never heard a song like hers before.

"S-so!" she deflected in a way she probably thought was skillful. "If you don't mind me asking, how was your tour?"

"Mm?" He was briefly caught off-guard, not expecting to have to talk about himself, though he supposed he should've, given that she was apparently a fan of his. "Oh, it was fine."

She tilted her head, suddenly concerned. "It was only fine?"

Oops. Luka hoped it didn't show on his face that he knew he'd slipped up. He didn't doubt - based on the small amount of time he'd known her - that Marinette would've listened to his worries, but he didn't want her to fret over his career when she was a fan of his.

Thinking quickly, he replied, "Well, I'm just glad to be back home. My family's here."

She nodded in understanding, not seeming to fully believe him - perceptive little thing - but accepting anyway. "That makes sense. I'd never be able to leave my parents for that long. I'd miss them too much!"

He chuckled. She seemed like the kind of person to overthink about people like that. "Yeah. My sister practically threw me onto the plane for my first tour." He grinned. "We still shared a room back then and I think she was desperate for privacy with her girlfriend."

Marinette covered her mouth, trying to hide a sweet giggle that he discreetly stored away in his memory.

"Still," she began, her gaze softening along with her voice. Luka detected a distinct change in atmosphere as she continued, "I don't think it's good if you miss them too much on tour. I think your fans would understand if you kept your them shorter." She smiled reassuringly. "I know I would, so please don't overdo it."

He blinked, staring at her with surprise. It was almost funny to him how he'd hoped not to run into any fans on the way there, yet here he was now, glad to have this particular fan to talk to.

She was sweet. She was cute. She seemed to genuinely care about him, and he was—

His phone chimed with a familiar tone, and Luka figured that it might've been for the best that he wasn't able to finish that thought, already hearing his dad's rambles about fans and attachment and keeping them at a stage's distance.

He picked up his phone, offering Marinette a quick "thank you" for her kind words before opening up his conversation with Juleka.

He blanked at the message she sent.

Hey, here's the list (by the way, say "hi" to the baker while you're there; not suggesting anything but she's cute and totally your type since you're both really lame):

Luka had too many questions all at once. Had his sister sent him there just to try and get him a date? Would she have sent him to the Dupain-Cheng bakery otherwise? Was Rose in on it too?

Did he really have a type?

Luka glanced briefly up at Marinette, who seemed wholly oblivious to his internal conflict. Trying not to just stand there stupidly, he copied the list Juleka sent and put it into a memo app on his phone, not wanting to risk Marinette seeing the rest of the message.

He took a quick look around the display cases and added something for himself to the list, then set his phone back on the counter and slid it over to Marinette. She leaned over, taking a look at the list, then gave him an acknowledging smile and went off to fill the order.

He waited to make sure that she had everything on the list memorized, then picked his phone back up and navigated to the camera app, now all too aware of what Juleka's smug reaction would be when he got back with the absolute dumbest look on his face.

"Luka?" Marinette called after an indistinguishable amount of time. He met her gaze and she added hurriedly, "I-I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, but here's your order."

She slid the boxes across the counter, having put them in a bag for easy carrying. He placed her payment on the counter and smiled at her, assuring, "You didn't interrupt anything. Thank you."

He didn't notice how warm his voice had sounded until after the words were already out, and by then it was already too late to change it. Slipping his hand through the bag's handles, he lifted it up and kept his phone held in his other hand.

"Oh!" Marinette gasped. "Let me get the door for you!"

"You don't have to—"

"It's okay! Your hands are full!"

He wouldn't define them as "full," but she was already rushing to make to the door before he did. He didn't miss how she opened it like a boyfriend would for their girlfriend, even adding a bow just for flair.

The bell chiming seemed to be emphasizing her voice rather than his exit.

"Please come again!" she recited like it was something she told everyone. She paused, then blushed and stood straight, any professionalism gone as she stammered, "I-I'm sorry, is that weird to say since I'm your fan? I didn't mean to, but—well, do come back, but only if you want! So—"

"I do," he cut in, much to her apparent surprise. He maintained eye contact on the way out, adding fondly, "See you later, Marinette?"

"A-ah... see you!"

He immediately had to look away to prevent her from seeing the way he grinned at the squeak in her voice. He heard the bakery door close behind him and held his phone back up to his face. Glad that there weren't many people in the immediate area, he spent probably five minutes trying to make faces at his camera.

Eventually, he had to give up hope that Juleka wouldn't tease him, because the smile wouldn't leave his face no matter how hard he tried.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to visit the bakery tomorrow though, of course.

[asweetprologue]

Geralt decides to retire to Toussaint. He takes Jaskier with him.

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retirement, Getting Together, Domestic, Fluff

I promise I’m still writing stuff!! this is a soft little one shot I wrote a while ago and just cleaned up. read on tumblr below the cut!

In the end, it’s the weariness that does him in.

Once when they were both younger men, Jaskier had asked him about retirement for witchers. If they retreated to Kaer Morhen in their old age to train the new pups, or if they settled down across the Continent, or gave up the hunt to have families of their own. Geralt had snorted. “We don’t retire,” he’d said, mixing potion ingredients by the light of their camp fire. Jaskier had looked at him with wide, curious eyes. “We get old, and slow, and something kills us. We don’t - buy seaside cottages, or whatever.”

Jaskier had hummed at that, a mournful note that seemed to resonate in the air. It was unfair, Geralt had thought, that his friend managed to convey so much in such a sound while the witcher always managed to say so little. “Seems a bit unfair,” Jaskier added.

Geralt had blown out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s life, bard.”

But now, three decades and countless battles older, he just felt tired. Jaskier no longer traveled with him as frequently, and the Path was a lonely place. He and his brothers no longer met at Kaer Morhen to winter, not once Vesemir had passed. They would stop occasionally to meet up on the road, but never for too long. Even Ciri was going her own way nowadays, though he saw her the most frequently. As the years wore on, Geralt found himself visiting Oxenfurt more and more often. Itching for companionship, for a cease in the ever grinding motion of the Path. The routine that had once been a comfort was now grating.

Maybe it was time to take a break.

It was with this mentality that he turned to Jaskier on the last day of his stay in Oxenfurt and said, “Come to Toussaint with me.”

Jaskier blinked at him owlishly, the expression making him look ten years younger. These days his hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and when he chose to grow out a beard it was as silver as Geralt’s. “What’s so important in Toussaint?” he asked. They were seated at a table in the rooms Jaskier had been provided, for accepting a temporary lecturing position. The term had ended a few weeks ago, hence Geralt’s visit. Jaskier shuffled his gwent deck as he spoke, the cards weaving together like a cascade. Geralt found himself watching the bard’s slim fingers dance through the motions with an old fascination.

“I have an estate there,” he replied, pulling his gaze from the cards. He meant to look Jaskier in the eye, but a brief moment of contact with the bright cerulean had him turning his head, his heartbeat growing ever so slightly faster. It was too hard to ask this if he could see Jaskier’s face. Instead, he looked out the small window, overlooking the red tiled roofs of Oxenfurt. The city was painted a rich gold in the light of the evening sun, reflected warmly off of the river beyond the docks.

Jaskier spluttered across the table. “You have an estate? Since when?”

Geralt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “It was payment for a job,” he said. “There’s a vineyard, gardens. I can send word ahead for them to start renovations on the guest bedroom. Come with me,” he said again, softly. He wasn’t above begging, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Jaskier looked at him with a confused but affectionate look spread across his fine features, and said, “Okay.”

~

Geralt sent a letter ahead to warn the staff of their plans to summer at the estate, and they began their journey to the Duchy.

It was a long journey, but not an arduous one. For once, Geralt allowed them to stick to the main roads, and at this time of year even Velen was bearable. The sweeping fields spread out around them in swaths of green and gold, punctuated here and there by defiant patches of wildflowers. Jaskier wasn’t as quick as he used to be following Geralt on the Path, but they weren’t on the Path anymore. They purchased a second horse and rode side by side at a leisurely pace. When the day grew hot, they would post up in a convenient spot of shade and let the horses graze, lunching on sun warmed bread and sweetmeats. Jaskier rambled the hours away with stories of his students and old antics at Oxenfurt, and Geralt responded with his own tales of hunts and growing up in the keep with his brothers. It was good to have another voice on the road again after months of traveling alone. It was good that it was Jaskier. Geralt had missed him. Once he wouldn’t have been able to admit it, even to himself, but it seemed silly now to hide it. A wall put up against someone who had been inside for years.

They slept beneath the stars and in cramped inns, sharing small spaces like they had for decades. It was different, Geralt thought. Something had released in his shoulders when Jaskier had agreed to come with him. They weren’t in a rush - there were no contracts to fill, no galas to play at. Jaskier’s purse was heavy from his time spent lecturing, and Geralt was able to pick up a few simple contracts as they went. Easy jobs that would put some extra coin in his pocket and lift the tension from the shoulders of the locals. But for the most part it was just the two of them, drinking sweet summer mead and browsing morning markets, getting accustomed to each other’s presence again.

Sitting across the fire from him one night as they camped, Jaskier said, “You’re different, you know.”

Geralt lifted his head from where he’d been skinning the pheasants for supper. “Hmm?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, maybe not that different.” At Geralt’s odd look, he went on. “You told me once that witchers never change. That they’re set in their ways. I think you were talking about something like your potions routine when you said it at the time, but I thought it applied to the whole of the witcher experience.”

Geralt hummed again. “It’s true. We age slowly. Get set in our habits.”

“But you changed,” Jaskier said. “I’ve seen it. After Ciri, and now, since we’ve left Oxenfurt. You’re different.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. They’d never been on the road together like this, just the two of them as companions. Before Geralt had been focused on the Path, and Jaskier had been cataloguing his deeds as if he were some kind of hero of legend. He knew Jaskier admired Geralt’s drive, his ability to push on towards the next contract. Maybe the bard would think less of him, knowing that he was content to leave the Path behind for so long. “I’m still me,” he said aloud.

Jaskier gave him another smile, warm and honeyed. “I know it’s you, daft man,” he said. “It’s good. To see you… put down the torch for a bit.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave an agreeable rumble in his chest. And then, because he’d spent so long learning how to use his words around his daughter, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaskier.”

A brief moment of surprise passed over Jaskier’s features, his eyes widening. Though Geralt had become better at voicing his affections over the years, he knew that the bard was always taken aback by the behavior. After a second Jaskier’s smile became a grin, and Geralt felt something in him relax even further. “I’m glad to be here, my friend. You know I can’t resist an adventure.”

~

They arrived in Toussaint quickly after that, both eager to end their days on the road. The countryside spread out around them slowly transformed from the muted colors of the north into the vibrant greens, purples and reds of the vineyards and forests. Geralt always forgot how stunning the Duchy was, with its colorful houses and flashy clothes. For once Jaskier fit in with the crowd flawlessly; it would take more than a bright doublet to stand out in Toussaint. Geralt had always liked it here. The peasants tended to be less prejudiced against non-humans, witchers included, and the knights he’d met always treated him as a brother in arms rather than pest control. The winters were mild and the summers sweet, and the wines were rich even if they were impossible for him to pronounce at times.

Of course Jaskier proved to be fluent in the local language - “What do you think the Seven Liberal Arts even entail, Geralt?” - which was helpful when they passed through smaller villages. Those away from the common crossroads or larger settlements tended to have fewer people who spoke the common northern tongue. They made their way to Geralt’s estate through a series of inns, barns and guest bedrooms as Jaskier relentlessly charmed the locals in grandiose displays of hospitality.

As they approached the estate, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop at the top of a hill. “This is it,” he said, nodding to indicate the view.

Jaskier gaped, craning to look out over the small collection of buildings and the dozens and dozens of grapevines that were nestled in the valley below. Geralt could see several workers out tending to the fields; his majordomo must have been overseeing things as agreed upon. They would have to get to know the rest of the staff while they were here. “This is all yours?” Jaskier asked, snapping Geralt’s attention back to the present.

“The house, most of the fields. I’ve not paid all that much attention to it before now, honestly. The house needs work. Never had any reason to sink funds into it before now.” He’d sent a fair sum of gold ahead to Barnabas-Basil to get started on renovations, but it likely would have only been enough to make the main complex habitable. Geralt was confident that he could undertake much of the repairs himself, in time. It would be good to have a project.

“It’s expansive. You produce wine here?” Jaskier asked, turning back towards him.

“Yes, but you’ll have to ask the majordomo which ones.”

Jaskier nodded to himself as they continued down the hill, soon approaching the main gate to the small villa. Members of the staff bustled throughout the property, though many stopped to look as the two of them passed by. As they settled their horses near a storage shed, the majordomo approached them, apparently already made aware of their arrival.

“Ah, Master Geralt, I trust that your travels were smooth? Please, come inside - I will have someone come and tend to the horses.” Barnabas-Basil Foulty was a clean shaven, bald man with sharp, almost bird-like features, and the head of the estate in Geralt’s stead. He stood at perfect attention at all times, shoulders back and head held high. A proud man, if not also an extremely polite one. Geralt liked him immensely, because he was good at his job and could keep up in the cups the one time the two had drank together.

“Ah, this must be the famous Barnabas-Basil. Fantastic to finally meet your acquaintance, my good man,” Jaskier said, jumping in to give the majordomo’s hand a firm shake. “Geralt has praised your skills from here to Redania and back.”

Barnabas-Basil inclined his head towards Geralt, though his spine did not stray an inch. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words. Please, allow me to show you the progress that we have made on the main house so you might get settled.”

The domo walked them through the estate, giving Jaskier a brief tour and pointing out new additions to Geralt. He’d not been to the estate in at least two years, but it was clear that the workers were making good use of the space. The small collection of colorful houses down the road had fresh coats of paint, and children played in the courtyard below the main house. A garden flourished in the space between the manor and the vineyard, dominated by root vegetables and herbs.

“If you would like, we can have it cleared out so that you might use it for your own purposes,” Barnabas-Basil said. His face betrayed no feelings on the issue.

Geralt grunted. “No need. The staff can use it as they wish.” He refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze as the bard beamed at him proudly. After decades of friendship Jaskier still seemed to find it a delight anytime Geralt did something he thought was particularly chivalrous. Geralt was not eager for him to meet the knights, with their virtues and heroic deeds.

The house, as he suspected, was functional but only just. “We’ve done what we could in a short amount of time, sir,” Barnabas-Basil said, his tone politely apologetic. “I assure you renovations are far from complete.”

“It’s fantastic,” Jaskier said, already darting off to explore the other rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and an upstairs loft that could be made into a second bedroom. The additional bed wouldn’t arrive for another week or two.

“We can share,” Geralt said without looking at Jaskier, and did not elaborate further. “Show me what else needs done.”

~

They fell quickly into a routine. Geralt spent his days working with the locals on renovations, slowly breathing vitality back into the old manor. When he grew tired of working with lumber, he waded into the vineyards, to help pluck the delicate grapes from their twisting vines. A pair of women admonished him for his sloppy work on the first day and taught him how to gently cut the branches away and check the grapes for ripeness. Jaskier fluctuated between helping out with the building work and composing, though he also made the occasional day trip into the city to perform. In the evening they would retire to the house to eat, drink and chat over games of cards. At night they would curl up in Geralt’s bed, as they had when sharing quarters on the road.

It was a strange new intimacy, to learn what Jaskier was like in his bed. They had shared bedrolls many times over the years, but never with any consistency. When the nights were too cold or the inn too full, they would sigh and grumble and agree to share a space for the night, as a matter of convenience. But as soon as they had the coin or the resources to do so, they would always put distance between themselves again. Geralt supposed it had been a kind of self preservation instinct, but he now found little threat in the warmth of Jaskier next to him at night. He learned that some days Jaskier woke before the sunrise, throwing himself out of bed in a tangle of limbs to scramble for a quill. Other days he slept late, sprawled out across the sheets and dozing until the heat of the day forced him up. Often Geralt woke to the bard curled around him, an arm thrown across his broad chest, nose tucked under the witcher’s jaw. Those times always made something tighten in Geralt’s throat. No one should trust a witcher like Jaskier did, but he was grateful for the bard’s foolishness. Jaskier had always believed that Geralt would keep him safe, even when the witcher had refused to even admit that they were friends. Jaskier deserved better, but it didn’t stop Geralt from turning into his warmth each morning, wishing to reach out.

When the second bed came, Jaskier made no effort to relocate to the guest room. Geralt didn’t bring it up.

It only took a month for him to openly think about it, but when he finally did he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. He looked up from where he was carving a notch in a new post for one of the fences and saw Jaskier sitting on the steps of the manor, the end of his quill hovering near his lips. His mouth moved around abstract syllables as he reached for the next lyric in a new song. The soft, repetitive notes rose and fell in the still summer air, and Geralt could see a small spot of ink on Jaskier’s cheek where he’d tapped himself with the quill by accident. Later that night, Geralt would point it out and they would both laugh, and Jaskier would play at being angry Geralt hadn’t brought it up sooner, and then Geralt would offer to help him clean up. Jaskier looked up from his place on the stairs and met his eye, feeling the attention on him as he always did. When he saw Geralt looking he smiled, as brightly as if he’d not seen the witcher in months, instead of moments. Geralt’s chest swelled with an unspeakable feeling, thick and heady affection and trust and something else even beyond that, and he thought, Oh, I love him.

~

Geralt suggested a picnic. Jaskier was ecstatic, though he tried to act as if he had to consider the notion.

“Will there be wine?” he asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, fondly exasperated, “we live on a vineyard.”

So they grabbed some bottles from the storeroom, packed a light cotton blanket and some food leftover from lunch and set off up the nearby hill. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the top, but once they did they were quite near the place they’d first stopped to look over the estate. It was nearing evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and making the shadows of the workers coming in stretch out long across the fields. The two men spread out their things, sitting to watch the landscape move below them as they uncorked one of the bottles.

Geralt let Jaskier chatter away about nothing for a while, letting the sound wash over him as they shared the bread and wine. After a while Jaskier fell quiet, leaving them both to gaze out at the beauty of the land around them. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier. The sweep of his brow, the soft bow of his lips. The smattering of freckles he’d collected from weeks on the road, lying in fields and letting the sun kiss his cheeks. To be jealous of the sun, Geralt thought wryly.

Jaskier turned to meet his gaze, realizing that he was being watched. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why did you come with me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier chuckled a bit, leaning back on one hand. His shirt was unlaced a ways down the front, leaving his dark chest hair exposed. Geralt wanted to put his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe there for a while. “I’m not one to turn down a free holiday, my dear.”

“No,” Geralt said, trying to ignore the way the pet name made his stomach flip. “I mean, why did you always come with me? Everyone… People come and go. But you always came back. Why?”

Jaskier gave him an admonishing look. Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. “You know the answer to that,” he said, and his tone held a warning that the witcher didn’t understand.

“I know you value our friendship,” Geralt replied, “but I could say that of many. It’s not the same.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, his face full of fondness and exasperation and, strangely, an old sort of grief. “You truly are the most unobservant man in the land. You’ve been far more than a friend to me for many years.”

Geralt felt his heart rate pick up at that, the slow thud speeding up to match Jaskier’s. “You’re saying…” He found himself unable to complete the thought. Even after so many years of trying to do better, it was still impossible to form words past the thundering in his ears. This moment felt delicate, like the wrong phrase might shatter it apart.

“I assumed you knew,” Jaskier said with a shrug. The line of his shoulders was just slightly too tense, his body radiating faux casualness. Anyone else may have been fooled, but Geralt had been watching Jaskier for years. “I would never have let it change anything between us, you must know that. You were always involved with someone else - Yennefer, and then Triss and Shani… I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Something that could make you happy.”

“I thought it would,” Geralt said honestly. His gaze flickered over Jaskier’s impassive face. The bard rarely showed his nerves in his expressions, too much a performer for that. Instead it made its way to his hands, twitching over his thighs and worrying the fabric of the blanket, and his heart, which raced in his chest. “I wanted to be the right person for them. Yen wanted me to be useful. Triss wanted me to be a knight in shining armor. They made me feel like I was better than just a witcher.” Jaskier’s lovely mouth twisted slightly, a note of bitterness in his gaze as he looked out over the vineyards. Geralt hurried on. “But you’re the one who made me feel like being a witcher was already good enough.”

Jaskier turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “Well of course it is,” he said, and naturally the bard had missed the point, honing in on his favorite subject: the reputation of witchers and Geralt’s sense of self worth. “You’re already useful, and noble, and good and kind besides all that. You don’t have to be more than what you are to deserve - fuck, basic human connection and love.” He settled slightly, his gesturing hands falling into his lap once more. “Is that why you left them?”

“The Path always calls,” Geralt said with a shrug. “No one but you ever wanted to follow me.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing. Geralt watched the color rise up over his cheek bones with something like fascination, or maybe hunger. “Well, now you know why,” he continued, with obviously false cheer. He gave Geralt a rueful smile. “I promise I won’t make things awkward. I’ve had decades to practice. I mean, it’s been thirty years. If you were going to fall in love with me you probably would have done so already, hmm?”

“You’d think so,” Geralt agreed. “Sorry it took me so long.” And then he leaned into Jaskier’s space and kissed him.

It wasn’t a very good kiss. Barely a kiss at all, really, considering that Jaskier had frozen under him. Geralt pulled back, lifting a hand to run it gently over Jaskier’s side. The bard was absolutely still, his eyes closed tight. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that Geralt wanted to kiss away, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. It was unfair that a man could have beautiful eyelashes, Geralt mused, but here they were. “You mustn’t toy with me, witcher,” Jaskier croaked. His voice was raw, as if he’d been singing for hours.

Geralt moved his hand to the bard’s face, his thumb following along the line of his jaw and up to trace across his cheekbone. Freckles like stars under his fingers. “I’m not,” he rumbled. “I swear it, Jaskier. I just -” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You were always there. No matter how shitty the Path was, or how miserable people were to you because of me, or how much I pushed you away. You stayed. You made me feel like I was worth something, and you made other people think that way too. Every day without you on the Path was always misery. I should have realized sooner, but I’m not… good at this. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s head dropped forward, his brow resting on Geralt’s collarbone. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the span of a minute,” he said, voice thin. “This is a lot to take in. Are you saying that you… that you love me? You, Geralt of Rivia, are in love with me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, smiling into Jaskier’s hair. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Jaskier pulled away to stare at him. Geralt tried to let his affection through, drinking in Jaskier’s beloved face like he hadn’t allowed himself before. The last rays of the sun played over Jaskier’s hair, turning some of the strands to brilliant amber. His eyes were over bright. Whatever the bard saw in Geralt’s expression must have been enough, because the next moment they were kissing again.

It was, Geralt thought, a miracle that he had ever gone so long without doing so. Now that they’d begun, he never wanted to stop. Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft against his, and when Geralt licked slowly into his mouth he tasted of old wine. They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt holding Jaskier close, decades of tension not so much breaking as releasing like a quiet sigh of relief.

Finally they pulled apart, Geralt nosing at Jaskier’s cheek as he hummed contentment into the bard’s skin. He could feel deft fingers petting through his hair, easily working around the tangles that had formed on the walk up the hill. “I love you,” he said, pressing the words below Jaskier’s ear as if he could speak them into his core that way.

Jaskier shivered once under him. “I love you too,” he said, and Geralt could feel him smiling in the way his jaw moved. He knew Jaskier in his bones. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know.”

Geralt pulled back, pushing Jaskier’s fringe back with one hand as he met his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stop running from you,” he said, smiling. Jaskier grinned back, and neither of them mentioned that his eyes were slightly damp. Geralt pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to his bard. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[puppy-phum]

some heihua for the soul

so the update for Binding isn’t happening today bc my brain is complete mush after trying to aggressively finish my thesis yesterday and i decided to give my brain two days off bc of that. also, i promised @ashenwren some time to beta read the ending part (which they already did but! now i need some time with it myself) so i am leaving everybody to wait until saturday. 

meanwhile, i am offering yall a sneak peek/first look at my heihua fic which is very loosely tied to my pingxie. basically, this is just me playing around with hei xiazi as a character and his and xiao hua’s dynamic’s more... tender side. 

i know that @jockvillagersonly and ashen have already read this which has been amazing so thank you for your love ♥ but take this again ^^ also thanks to @cross-d-a for listening to me ramble about heihua and sharing this idea with me. and thank you to @i-am-just-a-kiddo​ who i’m doing all of this for ♥ you are the best parent-in-law for these two and this fandom!

It’s a bad week for him. 

First, it’s the girl he finds while raiding a warehouse full of smuggled weapons and possibly, most likely, drugs. She’s maybe twelve, eyes wide and hair messy, bones poking her skin where Hei Xiazi can see her elbows flashing under her short sleeves. There are bruises around her wrists and burn marks on the inside of her arms. She doesn’t speak but she doesn’t have to, all of her screaming of experiences worthy of a hundred years instead of a dozen. 

She presses her face into her hands when Hei Xiazi fires his gun, and he feels something come loose inside of him at the broken, aborted noise she makes that rings louder than the shot itself. 

Hei Xiazi carries her kicking and screaming out of the warehouse, leaving behind the slowly ending gun fight and the smell of gasoline. She only goes silent once Hei Xiazi puts her down, flinching bodily away from him but not going far. She hovers, fingers slowly curling around the hem of his long jacket while they wait, shoulders hunching against the cold. Hei Xiazi offers her his jacket with a smile, buys her a sandwich which she then throws up, and helps her into a hospital once they’re safe to leave. 

No one else stays behind with her. All the other people they found from that warehouse scattered as soon as the fight began and only she remained, lost in the thought of having to leave the premises that had become her world. She has no family, no house, no money. Hei Xiazi watches her leave with the social workers, bones of her wrists like twigs threatening to snap even after some proper meals and eyes so big they seem to swallow the light around her. She still hasn’t said a word. Hei Xiazi doubts she ever will. 

Her pale face looks like a ghost as she turns to give Hei Xiazi one last glance over her shoulder, and that’s what she becomes to him once he goes home and puts that warehouse out of his mind. It’s hard and he feels himself haunted, and whatever it was that got loose in his chest rattles like the tail of a snake. 

Then, he hears about Su Wan. Hears about the mission that went south with the three youngsters. Hears about Su Wan getting hurt. 

It isn’t anything new in their line of business to get hurt, to even die. When he first met the boy in the desert, he predicted he would find him six feet under after only a day. There was too much softness in Su Wan, too much trust, too much naivete. He had a big brain and clever ideas but his core was gooey, leaking out in way too telling bursts, leaving nothing hidden. 

Su Wan had reminded Hei Xiazi of young Wu Xie. Even his floundering with his knife had reminded him of Wu Xie. Even his adaptability had been annoyingly similar to Wu Xie’s, and Hei Xiazi had questioned his taste in students. At least the boy had paid better. At least the boy hadn’t been wishing to die. 

He had not expected, after knowing all of that, to experience such fear when he first heard that Su Wan had gotten himself stabbed and had almost bled out in a cave, with only Li Cu and Yang Hao to look after himself and a saving bed of a hospital hours away. His hands had shook, making it impossible to hold anything while trying to breathe, and he had quickly been reminded of the little girl, torn open and going a bit feral just because she didn’t know what to do.

It was a surprisingly new thing to care. As surprising as the fact that he still knew of such things.

“I thought I had taught you better, kid,” he says as he goes to the hospital, in the middle of the night of all things, having to cover Su Wan’s mouth so that he doesn’t scream and wake up the better half of the city. The boy’s eyes are wide and heartbeat rapid under his fingers where he can feel it pulsing against Su Wan’s jaw. Then the boy is scrambling at his fingers to speak from between them. He pulls his hand away. 

“Hei-ye!” the boy whispers fervently, like an anchor casted in water. “I thought you were out of the country!”  

“I was until yesterday when I heard that you got stabbed,” he explains, voice leaning more towards mockery than any actual care. Su Wan knows what that means. The boy knows more than anyone else has ever known about a person like Hei Xiazi. It’s a strange thing but Hei Xiazi has come to almost like it. 

“I’m fine!” the boy chirps, lighting up like a lightbulb. Hei Xiazi helps him sit in his bed, snatching a chair for himself from the corner, and then evaluates the damage. Su Wan is smiling while a thick roll of bandages circle his stomach. There are at least thirty stitches there, curving along his side. Some more adorn his bicep where he tried to evade another blade. A darkening bruise is making his cheek swell, casting an extra shadow under his chin. 

Hei Xiazi sighs and closes his eyes when Su Wan starts to tell the story, his voice a soft whisper made even softer with lingering sleep. The beep of the machines tell Hei Xiazi the boy is alive. The painful thrum of his own heart tells him he’s alive too. 

Su Wan falls asleep holding onto Hei Xiazi’s sleeve. He cannot remember how the boy got the leather between his fingers but prying his hold away is like bending steel. It feels impossible and burns equal amounts. 

Finally, he slips back into the cold night. 

He doesn’t go to his apartment, the one he’s currently occupying, his few belongings strewn across the floor and nothing making the place feel like his. Even after years and years and years, some part of him still feels sick at the thought of emptiness. He’s tried his hardest to carve his bones empty and chest clean but after each year spent alone or with someone or wanting, he realizes it’s a battle he cannot win. There’s something terribly strong under his ribs. It refuses to die even before his curse of immortality and the knowledge that goes beyond his comprehension. It refuses to die even when facing the cold, cruel world. 

The walls surrounding the Xie Manor are high but not high enough to keep him at bay. If they were, he would’ve never come here. He would’ve never returned, not after he once left. 

Climbing up the wall of the manor to the third floor makes his lungs burn, but then he’s pushing the window open already, stepping silently onto the polished floor. 

“Xiazi,” a familiar voice says, not even pretending to sound sleepy. “It’s three in the morning. Is it really a suitable time to be visiting the head of Xie family?”

Hei Xiazi smiles, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing it onto the back of a chair beside him. The air in the room feels chilly with the window open but he likes to hear the noises from outside and he likes the line of silver painted onto the floor and across the luxurious double bed. He likes that he can pretend his vision is so clear just because of the moon. 

“Hua’er-ye,” he says back, voice like honey because he loves to tease this man and loves how the tone makes his perfect eyebrows pinch. “Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

“I would dream you naked at least, not dripping mud all over my floors.”

“As you wish,” he says and reaches for his own belt before moving closer to the bed, toeing his shoes off on the first two steps.

Xie Yuchen is warm but firm when Hei Xiazi meets his body, crashing into his lips and then slipping hands down his silk covered spine. He hums, hiding his laugh. He’s always loved the absolute brilliance and practicality and strength of this man but under all that, Xie Yuchen is a little spoiled. A rich family head. A powerful man with more money than Hei Xiazi could possibly imagine. He’s never tried, not really caring. For all his acting, he’s never gone for Xie Yuchen for his money. 

He takes care of helping Xie Yuchen out of his expensive pajamas, kissing him wet and shivering after each uncovered piece of skin. There is something beautiful about Xie Yuchen in the stark light of the moon, eyes burning bright and the line of his throat like an invitation. Hei Xiazi wishes he could tell him that, sometimes, but he’s preferred to seal his lips. His poetry would not suit the ears of Xie Yuchen. 

He’s never been one for pretty words, crude and almost barbaric instead, tongue made out of barbwire and mind of a strategic plan. Between them, all those edges exist in harmony, and so he’s never felt the need for anything more, enjoying the simplicity of just being. 

Ironically, as the sun is already rising, coloring the horizon with its colorless light, he still descends into words. It’s like something is pulling them out of his chest, and when there’s a force outside of his control beneath his ribs, he cannot do anything but unravel upon Xie Yuchen’s white satin sheets.

“There was this girl,” he says, looking into the still remaining dark – or as dark as anything can be for his eyes, that comfort taken from him ages ago. “I saved her from a warehouse a couple of days ago. She didn’t speak, couldn’t eat because she’d been kept hungry for so long. There were burn marks on her arms, probably from cigarettes or a lighter. They told me she was thirteen. She didn’t look like she was thirteen.”

Xie Yuchen’s hands are on his back, brushing lightly against his shoulder blades, drawing something there. His heartbeat is steady under Hei Xiazi’s cheek and his skin burns, burns, burns. He remembers how he had looked at that girl in the eyes and seen himself there. 

“I remember,” he says quietly, closing his eyes, “feeling the same burn on my skin. I have no memories of when or why but I know there were cigarettes. I know her pain. I know the scars.”

“Were you a child back then?” Xie Yuchen asks, his body a strong, sturdy thing against him. A rock. A mountain. He never thought he would feel lost in this world but there is something about himself in every child he’s ever saved, in all of their wide, fearful eyes, in all of their screams, their desperate fight, their bared teeth and messy heads of hair. There’s something about him in all of their thrumming, wild panic, like a bird under their skin; in their desperation to get away, to find a place to belong, to find safety and food and trust. To heal a body that has not been their own or has felt like an enemy or a liability or a curse. 

He cannot remember the time he was a child, cannot remember the time before he went blind and began to see too much, cannot remember being anything but this eternal man on the outskirts of the world. He cannot remember ever having a family or feeling the absence of it. 

But then, there’s this echo in his mind. It rings back from the eyes of every child he’s ever tried to help. He thinks, maybe, he still knows how he lost. 

“I only remember being burned,” he says. “I only remember the pain and being afraid. And isn’t that a stupid thing to remember when it could be so many things?” He laughs, as much as it can be a laugh when something twists inside of his chest, bringing tightly together that something that was let loose. He chokes on it, feeling his voice die down. Xie Yuchen turns beside him so that they both lie on their sides, looking at each other. The line of the moon falls over Xie Yuchen’s hips and almost lands on Hei Xiazi’s waiting hand. 

“Bad things linger,” Xie Yuchen says with a certainty of a man who knows this to be true. During the years, Hei Xiazi has learned a couple of the bad things that happened to this proud man. “But you are turning them into something good.”

“And how much does it change to save a couple of children?” he huffs, tired of the heart that cannot leave him at peace.  

“For them, everything.”

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 4 | confession

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Your confusion only grew over the next few weeks.

Shouto continued taking you out on dates, continued to meet you for homework, and--strangely--continued to kiss you even when you were sure no one was around, though he never found another opportunity to put his hands all over you again.

You found yourself more confused than ever, one night when you were doing homework together, curled up in the lounge of the 3-A dorms. You had mostly separate classes but you shared a core curriculum, and Shouto had proved especially helpful on the subject of literature, which predictably was much less your area of expertise than math and the sciences. You supposed there was something to be said for being raised as a rich boy, when he knew every scrap of classical literature inside and out, and you used him to your advantage shamelessly.

“You know, you don’t need to keep doing all this,” you said that night, pausing over a worksheet.

Shouto looked up from his reading curiously. “What?”

“All these dates and stuff,” you said, fidgeting a little under his watchful gaze. “You don’t need to keep taking me out.”

“Do you not like it?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“No, that’s not--it’s nice,” you said, noting something in the margins of your worksheet so you didn’t have to look at his face. “It’s just, it’s not like you need to impress me.”

“I like doing it,” he said in his characteristically straightforward manner. He set his book down and leaned forward. “I like spending the time with you.”

Your face flamed. “I like spending the time with you, too.”

“Then it’s settled,” he announced imperiously, going back to his homework.

You’d settled back down to your worksheet as well, but something kept bothering you, wondering why he continued to find it necessary to spend so much time with you when the semester was winding down and graduation was rapidly approaching. He had only so much time with his own friends left, and as much as you liked the time you were spending together, you knew it wouldn’t last beyond that.

The thought made you a little sad, now that you were focused on it. Fake dating Shouto had been pretty amazing and you loved the time you’d spent in his company, enjoying all the unexpected ways that he flagrantly flauted what was typically thought of as his sexy ice prince persona. Shouto as a person was actually fun to be around -- smart, straightforward, and more awkward and mischievous than he was given credit for. He was unexpectedly hot tempered but was mostly patient with you, and he seemed to find your tendency to ramble soothing rather than annoying, letting you do a lot of the talking when the two of you were together.

You hoped that you would stay friends past graduation, even if you wouldn’t be spending every spare minute together in the interest of keeping up appearances.

A strange feeling followed you through your next date, a warm spring evening when he took you out for cold soba. You couldn't seem to focus on anything other than how much you enjoyed being with him, how easy the conversation was, how adorable he looked with his cheeks stuffed full of noodles. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted this to last, how much you never wanted graduation to come. You realized with some alarm what it all meant when you returned to your dorm and he kissed you stupid outside the door.

You had feelings for him.

Panic gripped you over the next couple of days and you wondered wildly what you should do about this new discovery. The longer you thought about it, the more embarrassed you were to discover that you’d most likely liked him from the beginning, from the moment he’d sat down to your pair project and launched into a thoughtful question. Of course you’d been willing to go along with his little scheme if it meant you could be close to him, and that fucking senior project was hardly the excuse you’d pretended.

You’d been dating a boy you were maybe in love with for months, only none of it was real.

Finally, one evening in late March, as you were putting the finishing touches on a prototype of Shouto’s support item, a plan presented itself to you. You thought you knew what you wanted to do, but you needed advice.

You couldn’t talk to Shouto about this yet, not until you were entirely sure, but there were people close to him who might be willing to volunteer their opinions. You were certain that Shouto had at least let his closest friends in on his little scheme, so you wouldn’t be letting the cat out of the bag if you talked to one of them.

The next afternoon found you at the 3-A dorms again, having ducked Shouto’s quirk training to come find a potential source of help: Momo Yaoyorozu.

Momo was thankfully downstairs when you arrived, in the kitchen putting together an afternoon snack of biscuits and wielding a tin of very expensive looking tea. Her hair was down out of its usual meticulous, high ponytail, and her long hair made her look somehow even more intimidating and queenly than usual.

She caught sight of your nervous figure and gave you a bright smile.

“Hi Y/N,” she chirped and you gave her a little wave. “Shouto’s not here right now.”

You shook your head. “I actually came to see you, if you have a minute? I need help with something.”

She eyed you curiously, then slowly reached for another scoop of tea leaves. “Am I wrong to guess tea would help?”

You nodded, feeling weirdly like a preteen about to have the talk with her mother. “Sure, thank you.”

She pulled out another cup and added more water to the kettle. You watched her gather everything quietly, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject. She pulled out another biscuit and poured water over the leaves, finally gathering up both cups, gesturing you over to the lounge.

“Did Shouto do something to upset you?” she asked once you’d settled into the loveseat, warm mug in hand. “He can be rather blunt.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you said, scratching a fingertip against the ceramic. “It’s just…” you paused, tentative, then decided what the hell. “I have feelings for him.”

Momo shot you a concerned look. “What?”

“I know,” you agreed miserably, fingers tightening on the mug. “It just happened, I didn’t expect--”

“No, wait,” Momo said, something like confusion creasing her delicate brow. “What do you mean you have feelings for him? Isn’t that normal?”

You threw her a wild look. Was it normal to catch feelings for your counterfeit boyfriend? Had she been in a situation like this before?

“Have you fake dated someone before?” you asked.

Momo’s jaw dropped. “Fake dated?”

A suspicion settled over you like a dark cloud. “Momo, has Shouto not told you we’re not really dating?”

Her dark eyes widened. “Shouto told me he’d asked you out on Valentine’s Day. He’d never said that any of it was a ruse. Why ever would he ask you to pretend to date him?”

“To fend off Himari,” you admitted, embarrassed, “among others. He did it because none of those girls would leave him alone on Valentine’s Day. I was with him when Himari confessed to him and he used me as a cover. I think it’s only until graduation, though.”

Momo looked thoughtful. “He never told me. He’s talked often of your time together but he’s never admitted as much to me. Shouto has always had this problem and it seems strange that he’d try this now, of all times. Are you sure he’s only dating you to fend off girls?”

You nodded. What other reason would he have? You were shocked that he hadn’t told her. “I’m sure.”

She looked troubled. “It just doesn’t seem like him.” She paused. “So, you’re saying that he doesn’t have feelings for you...but that you might have feelings for him?”

You cringed and took a bracing sip of your tea, embarrassment welling up inside you. “Yes.”

She stared down into her tea cup. “And you’re wondering what you should do about it.”

You nodded again.

She sighed. “I can’t pretend to know what the best thing to do is in this scenario. I just can’t believe Shouto would do something like this.”

You leaned forward, steeling your nerves. “Momo, I was thinking of telling him. I know he’d like this to go on through graduation but I don’t think I can pretend to date him when I actually really like him. It’s too overwhelming.”

You paused, fighting down an embarrassed blush. “What I came here to ask was if you think he would still be able to be friends with me, after. I know it might be weird for a little bit, but I think he’s kind enough. I just….wanted to confirm, with someone who’s known him for a lot longer.”

She watched you silently for a long moment, her fingers pale against her own tea cup. “Shouto is many things, but intentionally cruel is not one of them. I can’t promise that he wouldn’t hurt your feelings--you know how blunt he can be--but I don’t think he’d want to stop being your friend.”

A little relieved sobbing hiccup went through you and you quickly stuffed your face back into your tea cup to hide it, washing it down with a steadying sip.

“Thanks,” you said when you felt you could finally manage it. “That’s all I really wanted to hear.”

She gave you a fond smile. “Glad I could help.”

You took another sip of tea and Momo followed, the two of you descending into a companionable silence. A sudden thought weighed on you.

“Momo, do you know why Shouto may not have asked you instead? I know you two are close, it seems like he might have been better off asking you for the favor.”

Momo gazed into her cup thoughtfully. “I suppose he could have. I don’t know why he wouldn’t.”

You considered that. Was there some reason Shouto didn’t want to alter the nature of his relationship with Momo? Some reason that could also play into why he didn’t tell her you were fake dating in the first place?

….was Shouto maybe not trying to fend off suitors, but instead trying to make Momo jealous?

You entertained the thought for about thirty seconds, then dismissed it. Shouto wasn’t like that.

Honestly, after getting to know him as well as you had, it was surprising that he’d even schemed up the fake dating thing at all, considering how straightforward he was. It seemed wildly unlikely that if Shouto did have feelings for someone, that he wouldn’t just come out and tell them.

“I do know he spoke very highly of you after that project you did together. That’s why…when he told me he’d asked you out, it just made sense. Shouto doesn’t usually take to people that easily,” Momo said.

You fought down a blush. Maybe that’s why he’d asked you instead of Momo. He liked you enough but you hadn't known each other well, so asking for your help wouldn’t damage the fundamental nature of a close relationship. It made a certain sort of sense, you supposed.

The sound of foot falls just outside distracted you and you sat up as the door creaked open. Momo’s eyes betrayed a note of panic, and you looked over your shoulder to catch sight of Shouto toeing off his boots at the door. He looked a little unkempt and windswept from quirk training -- his hair a little rumpled and his skin glowing with sweat.

Your thoughts instantly dried up. Damn he looked good.

Shouto startled a little at the sight of you camped out with Momo. Then the small, secretive smile he sometimes wore curled the edge of his mouth. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

You panicked. Crap. What was an appropriate response? You and Momo didn't even have anything in common other than Shouto. What would distract from being hand held through a romantic crisis?

“Talking shit about you,” you blurted. “I’m putting together a hit squad for what you did with the ice wave the other week. I did promise murder.”

You watched with satisfaction as Shouto’s eyes narrowed a little. Bingo.

He came stalking over, his manner shifting into something predatory. “I seem to recall coming to a mutually satisfying resolution.”

The tips of your ears went hot and your toes curled in your socks. “Uh, must have slipped my mind.”

A strong arm hooked over your waist from the back of the couch and that scent of mint washed over you, slightly muted by the scent of grass and sweat. Shouto pulled you up into his arms, a stern look on his face. “It seems I’ll have to remind you then. Momo, you’ll have to excuse us.”

He didn’t wait for a response, carrying you over to the staircase to the boy’s dorms. Over one broad shoulder, you could see Momo staring after you, her pink mouth parted in shock. She looked absolutely bewildered, her face a perfect illustration of your own feelings. What did Shouto think he was doing?

It took you hours to come back to this thought, or any thought at all. Shouto spent a long time reminding you of your mutual resolution, kissing you absolutely boneless against the sheets of his bed, and then very sweetly walked you back to your dorm. It was only after you'd shut the door behind him and started up the stairs to your own room that you thought back to the look on Momo’s face. It must have seemed to her that Shouto had no idea of the boundaries of a fake relationship; she must have wondered if you had even been honest with her in the first place.

As hard as it must have been for her to wrap her mind around, it was harder for you.

You didn’t know how or why Shouto was behaving this way with you, if the relationship was truly so casual to him that slipping into the mannerisms of a real relationship meant little, but you knew this meant you had to come clean. Shouto had to know how you really felt about him.

One week and you would finish his support item. One week and you would draw up the courage to tell him everything. One week, and you would break things off with Shouto Todoroki.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

WKM - Trying to Set Things Right

Inspired by a dream. What might it be like if a redeemed Actor worked to try and help those he hurt? Wilford has disappeared, and he wants to rescue the eccentric man. You and Dark are there to help. Hopefully.

Word Count: 1,408

-

You weren't entirely sure how you got roped into this. You had spent years trapped in that accursed mirror before it shattered enough for you to escape and regain a form. Then, you found yourself trapped again, only this time as the sidekick to the Actor's 'adventures'. The stories seemed cyclical, but you couldn’t keep a full recollection of what happened each time beyond a mild case of deja vu. He was enjoying himself, getting to cast himself as that hero he had always dreamed of while making sure you kept your distance from the heartless entity named Dark. Even if you knew Dark would never hurt you - how could you forget the look of horror the first time he properly saw you during one of those adventures? - you had to stay with the Actor to play the ever-faithful sidekick.

Then… Something happened. You weren’t sure what, exactly, but the Actor’s personality changed almost overnight. He began showing a kinder side, one that you had only heard of in passing years ago, when you were a successful lawyer. You never questioned it. Actor - who once scolded you for addressing him by his job description (“Honestly, do you think I would go around calling you ‘District Attorney’? That’s just ridiculous.”) and insist you call him ‘Mark’ - appeared oblivious to the changes. It was only when Dark appeared outside your place of work for the first time that you were told something both vital and utterly vague:

"Mark broke out of character."

Whatever that meant, it ensured that careless adventures came to a screeching halt. Dark began cautiously visiting the home you shared with Mark. Mark, to his credit, welcomed him with open arms, calling him ‘Damien’ and acting like they had not been in a petty feud for what felt like years. Dark was uncomfortable at first, but gradually accepted that this was a better fate than a never-ending game of ‘cat and mouse’. At least you were able to spend time with him without getting in trouble. 

In his spare time, Mark undertook research. One of the empty rooms had been taken over, and Mark would spend hours in there when not busy with other work. There were flipcharts, pages spread over a table, notes pinned on the wall. He never let you in, only telling you that it was a matter that he needed to be sure was true before sharing his findings.

Then, one fateful day, you returned back to have Mark hook his arm around your elbow and drag you into the 'office'. Dark was there, taking in the information around him and trying to predict what might be wrong.

"Now that we are all here, I can now officially open the case. Wilford has vanished.”

-

It was only as Mark began going through his own records of conversations and papers did you realise you couldn’t recall the last time you saw Wilford. Two weeks ago? Maybe three? It wasn’t something that had worried you, since you knew Wilford fell out of time. This time, unfortunately, it was a serious problem. According to Mark, another story created a loop in a small area in the next town. They were the only ones who could break it and get Wilford (and everyone else in the area) out of it.

"I'm still getting my head around all of this," Mark admitted as he rummaged through the papers, "I know I had a hand in creating this mess, but I'm still trying to come to terms with the work that lies before me to help. I suppose I'll never understand William and what he has become." He turned to continue the search on a bookshelf behind him and you swore you could hear Dark hiss "Wilford" under his breath. You only had a moment to throw a concerned look to Dark before Mark let out a sound of triumph.

“Here!” He slammed the reclaimed map on the table, pointing to an area circled in red. “From my own investigations of the town, this area is the main one that is trapped in the ‘bubble’, much like the ones I used to keep our encounters safe. In the same way, anyone who passes through is unaffected, but they will become trapped if they stay too long - I’d say three hours. Since we have familiarity with it, we can stay there longer and not become ‘cast members’, which is why I need your help. Both of you. Once we get on the road -” Mark continued on, explaining the plan in good detail. While you might have once cursed Actor’s habits of overthinking in story weaving, it proved to be a rather useful skill when he was on your side. Mark had completed his own research to find potential flaws and obstacles that might arise, as though he had been inspired by the detective he had once hired. He assigned everyone their respective roles, and Dark swiftly departed to fetch his jacket and his cane without a word. As the door slammed, Mark slumped as he rested both hands on the table. He let out a long, slow sigh before straightening his posture.

“I know he’ll never forgive me, but it doesn’t make this any easier to swallow.” His eyes were on the door as he folded his arms. “We had been friends for so long and I threw it all away… For what? Some attempt of ‘revenge’ that was never going to work? That’s why I’m doing this. Not to be some ‘noble hero’, but to try and set things right. First, Damien and William. Then, Abe and Celine. They’re the ones still caught under the waves of this stormy disaster. Even if it tears me to shreds, I want to help them. All of them. There has to be a way to undo this, or at least ease the consequences. I don’t want them to suffer any more because of the pain I felt.” You could see the guilt weighing him down. These were words that he sincerely meant. For the first time since you escaped the mirror, he wanted to do the right thing for others and not himself. “Can I ask you something? What are Damien and William like these days? Both are strangers to me now. They look different, insist they go by names that don’t belong to them... I barely recognise the men I knew for most of my life.” He paused, the reality sinking in as he spoke his thoughts aloud for the first time. He looked at you, and you thought you could see fear in his eyes. “This isn’t a pipe-dream, is it? I’m not wishing on an ending that can never be... Am I?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how. Either option - ‘this is a waste of time’ or ‘you can do it’ - both seemed false. The future, at last, was out of your hands. Instead, you responded that it was the right thing to do, no matter what the outcome would be. It was a good answer. Mark thanked you with a weak smile as Dark returned. The entity seemed calmer than before as he led the way to the front yard. It was an awkward silence, and you were not sure if the tension in the air could be lifted.

Suddenly, Mark skidded in front, racing toward the garage door as it sputtered to life and moved.

“Whoa whoa, before we go ANYWHERE, I want to remind you both that this is my newest purchase and is a high quality vintage car! I won’t have you two messing or dirtying my baby, are we clear?” You nodded in amusement, while Dark rolled his eyes. Mark pulled the protective tarp off the car and opened the doors, rambling all the while about the age, the model and the ‘great persuasion’ he had to do. Instead of listening, Dark gestured for you to follow with a nod of his head. He crouched down at the back of the car and gently rocked the licence plate with his hand. To your amazement, it swung effortlessly, revealing a plate that aged it to be…. Far younger than a ‘true classic vintage’.

“Typical Mark. So caught up in the elegance of something he neglected to check if it was genuine.” You had to do a double-take. Dark smiled. It wasn’t much, but it was optimistic that things might gradually be okay in time.

--

As a bonus, I’m also including a screenshot of the dream that I sent to my friend this morning (I’m in GMT timezone). When I remember dreams, I get STORIES and I love it.

(In case it’s too blurry:

I HAD A MUSE DREAM. 

 For whatever reason, I was stuck travelling with Dark and reformed!Actor Mark. We were trying to set something right and it was the first time that Mark had been involved in all of this without being the Actor. At one point he sighed and was like "I suppose I'll never really understand William and what he has become" and I could see Dark roll his eyes as he corrected him and said "Wilford". A little later, Dark was checking something and briefly left myself and Mark standing aside. He had his arms folded as he thought and said something like "I hate to admit it, but I need your advice. What are William and Damien like these days? Is there a way to, you know, undo this?". But I couldn't answer, for I didn't know. 

 Then, just before my work alarm went off that I set by mistake last night Mark was showing us his vintage car that he wanted to use for this journey and how it was so precious to him. While he rattled on about it, myself and Dark examined the outside of it and discovered the licence plates were fake and that the real ones underneath had the car as a much newer replica. Dark smiled and muttered something like "typical Mark".)

[plethora-of-imagines]

Tradition

AN: My Secret Santa fic is for the amazing FabulousPotatoSister! I hope you enjoy it! I tried to incorporate something that would be culturally significant (in a small way) and I am so, so sorry if I messed it up!!! 

Word Count: 1805

Description: The Doctor wants to celebrate Christmas with you. Christmas may already be passed but it doesn't mean that she can't have a small celebration with you and she has plans to try a tradition.

Secret Santa: @fabulouspotatosister

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

“I know that it technically isn’t Christmas anymore for you, but - well you know- time machine and all.”

The Doctor did a little flourish as she reminded you that she lived in a time machine. As if you would ever forget this fact after having traveled with her throughout time for years. You tried to hide your laughter behind your hand, she was so cute. All eager and attempting to convince you of something you hadn’t even said no to yet.

"I don't know Doctor," you played hard to get, "last time we really celebrated Christmas together you ate mistletoe and got sick..."

For someone who spent so much time around humans, the Doctor managed to misunderstand traditions quite often. The fact that her eleventh body -or so she claimed, with how often she forgot her own age you almost doubted she knew how many bodies she had inhabited- had decided it was a good idea to consume all the mistletoe that you had used to decorate the TARDIS with was a clear sign of her ability to misunderstand tradition. They had gotten horribly sick and you had spent the whole holiday trying to keep the stubborn Time Lord in bed. You had never let him live it down, even when he had regenerated.

"That was two lifetimes ago. And I thought we promised never to mention it again!"

Okay, maybe after a lot of begging you had agreed to let them "live it down". 

You held her pouting face in your hands. A silent apology for bringing it up. Thumbs rubbing against her cheeks. You would feel bad about teasing her if it weren’t for the smile on her face the moment you touched her.

"What did you have in mind, Doctor?" You couldn’t help but inquire.

She leaned into the affection you were showing her like a touch-starved cat. Completely ignoring your question in favor of nuzzling into your palms. Eyes closed in bliss.

"Doctor?"

You hoped to catch her attention before you had to resort to drastic measures, like pulling your palms away from her face.

"I've been researching," she murmured. "I have a small idea, nothing big or impressive. We barely need to leave the TARDIS, which reduces the chance of trouble."

"Oh? So unlike your previous two selves, we will actually manage to do this unscathed? No sick from mistletoe boyish Time Lords? Or trouble seeking grumpy Scotsman Scrooges?"

You let yourself be just a bit dramatic about your somewhat sarcastic teasing. After the mistletoe disaster, her next regeneration refused to celebrate the holiday with you. It wouldn’t have been as disappointing as it was if he hadn’t tried to find an alien invasion to stop in order to avoid celebrating with you. It had been almost insulting. Which was why in the following years you had simply gone home for Christmas. The Doctor’s newest regeneration had a reestablished interest in celebrating the holiday with you that you didn’t quite trust yet. 

You kissed her nose before finally pulling your hands away from cradling her face, reveling in getting her to scrunch her nose in surprise. She stumbled after you for a moment before she caught herself and rushed around the TARDIS. Maneuvering around the console as she rushed to get you to your destination before you could consider denying her. Not that you would ever deny her.

“I didn’t agree to your plans yet Doctor!”

She ducked her head out around the center column. 

“Ah, but you didn’t say no yet either!”

Smiling incredulously, you shook your head, knowing that there would be no stopping her now.

“Can I know what the plan even is? Please, Doctor?”

You made your best puppy dog eyes at her. Doing your best to will her into giving away the plans she likely wanted to keep as a surprise.

“It’s a surprise! Besides, I’m sure that you will recognize what the plan is once we buy what we need for it.”

The TARDIS landed with a soft, teasing chime. The machine herself laughing at your sorry attempt at manipulation. The Doctor gave her a look that practically said, ‘please stop making fun of my human’.

Grabbing a scarf from the hexagon step’s railing, she did an awkward little jog over to you. Throwing the scarf around your head, pulling you in close before wrapping the one end around your neck. The other end had the majority of the excess. The tails were obviously lopsided. In a quick motion, the Doctor wrapped the other end around her own neck. Burying her chin in the fabric, hoping to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Sharing a scarf... it’s cute.”

You avoided her eyes, starting to feel just as embarrassed as she was. The two of you seemed to be back to the shy teen stage of your relationship after her regeneration this time. Everything seemed softer, every glance and touch full of yearning. 

“Well, you can’t wander off and get into trouble if we are attached,” the Doctor eventually found as an excuse for the action that could have been seen as either sweet or clingy.

“More like it’s a kiddy leash so a certain Time Lady can’t run off and get into trouble without me.”

You gently nudged her in the side as you playfully teased her.

“Hey!” She protested in faux outrage. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of dragging you into trouble without the help of my makeshift human danger-magnet leash.”

“Human danger-magnet leash!” 

Laughing you almost fell over, bringing the Doctor with you. Luckily you caught yourself in time before you could fall far.

“Shut up!” She was smiling. “Come on, trouble maker let’s go get the shopping done with before some aliens decide to invade the market I’ve chosen.”

Walking out of the TARDIS you almost expected the market to be- well, alien. Instead, it seemed to be a normal human market like the ones you would find back home. However the ordinary setting didn’t disappoint you, it served as reassurance that the small celebration that the Doctor wanted to have with you would actually manage to be peaceful.

Exploring side by side you tried to determine what it was that the Doctor was looking for. If you knew what you were searching for you could help to find it. All of your attempts to ask were met with a smile and gentle reassurance that you were smart and would figure it out. You had your suspicions when the Doctor stopped at a stall lit up with the traditional paper Christmas stars you would see at home during the holidays.

Those suspicions furthered as she gathered up bamboo poles and colored paper. Your excitement grew as she paid for the items. She had actually done some research, she hadn’t just said that to reassure you. As the shopkeeper handed her the bag filled with her purchases she turned to you.

“Back to the TARDIS before trouble can find us?”

You looked at her in adoration,” back to the TARDIS,” you agreed.

**************************

Sitting on the console room floor you helped the Doctor to organize the supplies as she started to nervously ramble.

“I watched a few videos so I should be okay at putting the star frame together for the parols. Is it pronounced parol? I honestly don’t know how to pronounce it, the videos I watched always just had the instructions typed out on the screen while calming music played. Did they pick calming music because putting these together is normally stressful? Or do you think it was just whatever the top royalty-free song happened to be? Either way, I think I can make the parol frames. Please tell me if I’m making a fool of myself and saying that wrong!”

“Your pronunciation is perfect Doctor,” you kissed her cheek to help stop her rambling.

As you continued to organize the paper by color the Doctor started to assemble the frames. Using her sonic as a method by which to secure the poles in place. You had no idea how it was working but you weren’t about to question it. She was making them in a variety of sizes, one was so big you weren't sure that you had enough paper to cover the frame. You thought about telling her that one was too big, but you didn’t want to ruin her fun.

Once the paper was organized you began to cover the completed frames. Starting with the smaller frames that would take up less paper. Gluing the paper onto the frames with care, not wanting to rip any of it. It was delicate work, but it was fun.

The Doctor watched your movements carefully when she was done putting all the frames together, watching with eager childlike interest. Slowly, after you had finished covering a few frames, she began to work on covering a few herself.

Her attempts were a bit childish. Small corners not covered or the paper bunched up in places. But you didn't mind at all. They had character, they spoke of being made by the Doctor.

The companionable silence as you worked ended when it was time to work together on covering the ambitiously large parol. The two of you joking together as you attempted to cover the large frame. You making fun of her for wanting to make one this huge. You managed to just barely cover the whole frame. It looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope with the random assortment of colors patched together.

The Doctor hung the parols throughout the console room, the natural glow of the pillars lighting them up. You felt as though you were in a sea of stars. The TARDIS pulsed lightly to bring your attention to the side of the room where two mugs of hot chocolate and a large fuzzy blanket were placed. Bringing them to the center of the room you settled onto the floor. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. When the Doctor finished hanging the last parol she turned to you for approval. Opening your arms to her you encouraged her to join you in the blanket for cuddles.

Immediately she rushed to clutch at you, snuggling into your arms with a content sigh.

"Do you like it?" She nervously asked.

"I love it, Doctor. Thank you."

You handed her the mug of hot chocolate and laughed as she eagerly drank it, leaving a milk mustache on her upper lip. Kissing her lips sweetly brought the sweet taste of chocolate to your own mouth. You picked up your own mug and took a sip while admiring the parols spread throughout the room. Maybe you could celebrate Christmas again with this incarnation of the Doctor without fear of trouble. You smiled, you'd have to see how next year went.

[anyu-blue]

~

I know a big part of it is the sleep deprivation.. again.. but I'm hella depressed.

Like overall I'm.. content? I guess? I have job. = Good. I have place to live. = Good. I have my game(s) I can play anytime I have time/want. = Good. I have appointments to try and get feeling better and keep trying and keep trying when I don't. = Good. I have Kizzy and will probably have him for at least 3 more years, if not longer. = Good. I have contingency plans in place for paying for my surgeries. = Good.

I've got a lot of good right now. And it's not that I'm ungrateful. I am EXTREMELY grateful. Considering my issues I've done extremely well. Even if some of it was on accident.

It's just.. well.. I'm tired, of course. Not sleeping well or much for days on end sucks. Especially because I could have, but people are going to keep living their lives and accidentally waking/keeping me up because they just don't think about my situation 24/7. Or even know it. Or consider it. Because life's too short for that according to, like everyone but me.

I'm sick of course. I've definitely tried the 'I'm doing great/not sick!!' mindset.. and it doesn't work.. cuz stuff HURTS. I don't have the energy to keep pretending either... And I don't think there was really a time I wasn't sick. Not in my whole life.. and It feels impossible to have any hope I'll ever not be physically sick... No matter what or how hard I try. Especially because I'm aging as all people do. Especially being forced to constantly check what I eat because if I don't I can hurt myself/make myself even more sick. Or starve, which hurts me too but is better than the alternatives. Especially being I have to rely on a healthcare system that looks down on what I can afford. Especially because what I can afford is so little. Especially because of our healthcare system being so politically charged people like me with the needs I have (even just replacing bones!!! Hello?! Our STUPID society forgets teeth are BONES and NECESSARY ones at that- but the instant you say teeth people literally don't give two shits, think you're just vain, and 100% brush you off. Even doctors.. and I have cried so hard over this stupid stuff and tried to rally and I'm STILL trying to save my own god damn life. I hate saying that's what I'm doing because I have some of that stupidity in me of thinking vanity... But I'm literally trying to save my forsaken life and be a LOT less miserable, and I feel so hopeless because only the little people who get it actually seem to want to help/be able to push aside that vanity thought and it hurts so badly to ask them to squeeze for me-- thank you if you're reading this and you've reblogged/shared my post. And I cannot thank you enough, and feel I owe you so much if you've donated... Every tiny bit helps. You and I are little people in the sense we don't exactly have $10,000+ to just throw around an have no worries about lol)

I'm.. also lonely? I guess? .. it's probably the best way to describe it. I don't like people all over me. Or really messaging constantly because moods change and People have lives.. but I miss... I want... Stress free interactions. Getting to spend time and go and do things. Not being alone all the time or missing out on everything. Time is meaningless pretty much right now in the sense I've missed all the holidays. 100%. No time spent celebrating or using the time or even seeing people. Im so much a damn adult and yet I still feel like crying whenever my siblings/cousins talk about last halloween because they had so much fun... They spent the day together in matching costumes by themselves at a park. And that's it... I was delirious from sleep deprivation when I saw them for the 5 minutes I did.. and stress because of my ex being the bastard he is to me. And work. So I couldn't join them. And it doesn't bother them in the least. It's such a happy memory for them and I am struggling to let go of the envy. They have so many days they spend together too.. remotely mostly, but they have so much fun. They wake me up alot with their calls.. and get pissed when I'm like hey guys I'm sorry but could you tone it down? I honestly stopped asking lately because they get so pissed and have even been like 'It wasn't me at all!!' even when I can quote what they said back to them and try to find anything and anyone else to blame... My little sister especially is CONSISTENTLY Telling me she has no idea what she even just said so I know it's bullshit it's not her.... And it just hurts. I try so hard. I drug myself to fall asleep almost every single workday now and I hate it. It's not good for you I feel. Says non habit forming but I just. Uck. And I have familiar, soft sound on. And I've shut my cat out. And I've consistently changed my bedding and cleaned and worn masks/covered my eyes, and done everything I can think of to try and make sure I'm going to sleep as long as possible. I don't go to bed and wake up early in the evenings to cook or spend time with them anymore because I'm trying to give myself more sleep. I don't stay up to see my sisters during the day anymore. Because I'm trying to give myself more sleep. I turn everything off (besides what I hope will help with the noise) at noon and try to lay down as soon after noon as I can every day. Anything blue gets covered or turned off. Everything has red light filters too to get rid of the blue.. but I can't seem to get more than a few jagged hours any given day unless it happens to be their early days where they take naps or I end up so exhausted I'm passed out at night when I should be awake so my shifts aren't so hard... So all that adds up to my being alone and lonely as my own damn fault. Because obviously I stopped making the efforts... The thing that hurts most about that is I was the only one making ANY effort at all to include myself in people's lives (still rings true for everyone in my own city at least- family, friends, the works).. and when I HAD to stop and told them why and asked if they'd be willing to meet me sometimes when it was hard for them (even like once a month fully planned out if need be, or spontaneous because I'm NOT picky)... I got yesses. I did. But. Do you think it ever once happened besides the very day we talked about it?

No.

I can and have gone through every single message and note I have (my memory isn't what it was after I got as sick as I did last fall so I try to keep track of everything instead of relying on my memory anymore)... The only person who even slightly tried was only doing so because he wanted every gd opportunity to beg me to sleep with him (pretty much- he wasn't subtle).. and I had to cut him out because he's not a good person in his own right, sadly. Which left me entirely alone in many ways. Which leaves me entirely alone unless I reach out first and sacrifice sleep.

The continuance of this unfortunately has contributed to my depression.. and the fact no one wants to be around cuz I'm a bummer. And the sleep issues have caused irritability I try so hard to control, but at certain stages I just lose my filters and don't want to say stuff or ramble but I also don't want to miss the opportunity with the person (usually one of my sisters) so stuff gets awkward and they don't like being around THAT. And I don't blame them. But I'd do?

Ugh... I know night shift is my fault... And is a major part of the problem... But I work it to avoid People who don't care about me and mine. To keep myself safe. To keep myself from having panic attacks. I'm doing a lot better with them... But I was breaking down so often at or about work it was getting out of hand... With night shift I'm not overwhelmed like that and I don't have to worry do much about my poor mind losing its sharpness as much. I can take my time more or less. And I get paid enough to survive. ....

I'm just depressed and I know it's on me but I wish I had more help than I do..

Wishing is also the problem. Instead of being happy with what I have.

Blargh...

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ghost Driver” Part 2

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 1

Four Days Afterwards, 7:47pm

“Good evening, madam. I am tonight’s entertainment,” Frost blurs out as soon as you open the door and instantly regrets his pun. “Sorry, that was stupid to say,” he apologizes.

The reason why you look puzzled is not his joke, but another motive: you never saw Jonny wearing anything else besides a suit or military gear; the fact that he’s standing in front of you wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt is quite intriguing.

“Hi,” you move aside so he can come in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I fell asleep watching a movie,” Y/N smiles at his comfortable attire. “No big deal. Did Mister Joker send you?” the subtle question indicates you want to find out the reason for his visit.

“No... I was just thinking… maybe we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to go and watch the fireworks with me. I have food and sleeping bags, plus an ice chest with drinks in my truck.”

You seem confused.

“Mmmm, you know what? Forget about it. That was completely idiotic to suggest,” Frost realizes that asking a freshly divorced woman to get out of the house after she was kidnapped and starved into her ex’s basement only four days ago it’s not the most brilliant idea he ever had.

“You had me at food and fireworks,” you wink at his insecurity. “The drinks sealed the deal. I’m confused on one detail: do I have to change or can I come in my PJ’s?”

“PJ’s are perfect.”

“Awesome!” you grab the keys from the coffee table. “Where exactly are we heading?”

“Fire Creek Hill, it’s one of the best spots to enjoy the view,” Jonny replies.

“Isn’t that closed to the general public?” Y/N inquires and his logic makes you laugh while exchanging your socks for flip-flops.

“I doubt we’re considered the general public. I had to pull some strings though,” he admits, overjoyed you actually agreed to accompany him.

Not that he shows it in any other way besides the invitation he barely mustered the courage to extend towards The Joker’s Ghost Driver.

*************

9:03pm  

“Oh, it’s starting!” you excitedly nibble on your Alfredo pasta.

The first fireworks bloom in the distance and Frost opens the cooler, pointing out the goodies he salvaged from the liquor store.

“Pick your poison: we have a bottle of premixed margarita, wine, whiskey, tequila and…,” he fumbles around,”…try to contain yourself: water!”

“You definitely bought some of my favorites , including the food. How did you guess?” the bubbly Y/N smiles.

“I pay attention,” Jonny mentions. “So what’s gonna be?”

“Margarita please,” you hold the plastic cup and can’t help snickering as he pours the liquid.

“What?” he suspiciously bites on his cheek.

“Nothing really… I was imagining you without the beard,” you decide not to keep it a secret.

“Damn!” Frost snorts. “I had it for years; didn’t consider shaving because our employer would freak out. Stop giggling, it’s not funny! He totally would!” Jonny elbows you.

“I bet you have a baby face underneath all that facial hair; if you shave I can promise a new nickname will arise: Baby- Face Frost.”

“Shut up!” he chuckles at your quirky proposal. “Yet I can’t deny it has a certain ring to it.”

“See what I mean? It might work!... Oh my God, that’s a huge one!” you gasp, distracted by the sparkling night sky. “What are they celebrating? 150 years since this piece of crap town was founded?”

“Apparently,” Jonny sighs and watches Y/N bundle up in the sleeping bag.

“Thank you for the feast,” your tone changes to a serious one. “I didn’t have this much fun in the back of a truck in a long time. Go ahead, laugh!” you pout at his reaction. “I’m aware how it sounds like; I didn’t mean it that way!!!”

“Still funny as hell!” Jonny is getting a kick out of the conversation.

“Psst! Hey, Casanova!” The Joker’s mop of green hair pop up from behind the car’s high railing.

“Mister Joker!” you get startled by his unexpected presence.

“Boss, what are you doing here?” Frost utters in disbelief.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, huh?” J ignores his henchman’s inquiry.

“It’s in the glove compartment, sir. I’m enjoying the…”

“Pardon me for interrupting your date,” The King of Gotham huffs.

“We’re not on a date,” the attempted explanation gets cut short.

“Sell it to whoever wants to buy it,” The Joker growls at Jonny’s words. “I had to follow the signal from your cell and trace your location; what a marvelous bonus to find my Turbo also!”

The eerie grin makes you finally speak up:

“Do you need help with anything Mister J?”

“Do I?” he plays dumb. “Probably.”

Why does he have to ruin the night? Frost reflects, annoyed.

Nobody knows, but if he could spend ages in your company, he believes it would be an eternity well spent.

And The Joker had to ruin it.

Goddammit!

“Can you patch me up?” J takes of his jacket, revealing a blood stained shirt.

“What happened?” you and Jonny jump off the vehicle.

“I got myself in a little bit of a situation,” he grumbles. “It’s a clean wound; the bullet came out on the other side.”

“We should take you to the doctor, boos; you need stitches!”

“Thanks for your concern, Doctor Frost,” The Joker sassily remarks. “I’ll go in the morning.  I have more important matters to take care of tonight.”

You peel off his garment and assess the damage; he can’t hold it in:

“I bet you wanted to do this after I texted you my nudes, huh?”

You have to admit he caught you by surprise with his statement and the best solution in this situation is to cooperate:

“Been dreaming about it quite often.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The Clown cracks up. “Were you dreaming about it during your date?” he teases more.

“We’re not on a date,” you frown at the blood gushing from his wound.

“Interesting,” J expands on the subject. “At least you two have one thing in common: you’re both delusional.”

Frost rolls his eyes without J noticing and you signal him:

“Can I please get the whiskey? I need to disinfect this.”

“You have whiskey on your date?! Excuse me, non-date,” his majesty’s obnoxious temper emerges again.

You don’t engage for the moment, just open the bottle that Jonny gave you and splash a generous amount on the laceration.

“Jesus Christ!!!” The King shouts. “Be gentle woman, I’m fragile!!!”

“Sorry Mister J,” you mutter and Frost is certainly approving your tiny revenge scheme. “Can you please turn on the lights on your car? It’s getting dark and I can’t see what I’m doing,” you address The Joker’s sidekick. “Do you have a first aid kit in your vehicle Mister J?” you gesture towards his SUV parked a few feet away.

“I should,” a demented smirk flourished on his lips. “In the trunk!”

“Take a seat in the grass Mister J; I’ll go get it,” you urge the patient.

“Boss, are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?” Frost offers and instead of obliging your request, J pursues your steps because he doesn’t want to miss Turbo’s reaction.

“It’s fine, I’ll survive until morning time.”

You lift the trunk and gasp, stunned: your stellar ex-husband is tied up in there, duct tape over his mouth, clearly enjoying the repercussions of a confrontation due to bruises you can discern at a first glance.

“Oops, forgot about him,” The Clown yawns, bored.

Adam starts wiggling and mumbling whilst you can’t react.

“The fucker shot me!” your employer hisses. “Had the nerve to try killing me when he’s the one sleeping with MY girlfriend!”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Jonny intervenes, worried at your stunned attitude.

“The plan is simple: since Y/N is intimately acquainted with our guest, I’m willing to work out a deal. I don’t wanna to be accused of not listening to my associates.”

Adam keeps struggling and you finally reach and remove the duct tape.

“Honey, honey please!” he immediately rambles on, panicked. “You know I was joking about your weight, right? You don’t have to lose a few pounds! I admit locking you up in the basement was a huge mistake, ok? OK…? I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never cheat on you in the future. We can work things out, can’t we?” a glimmer of hope alleviates the somber perspective of his imminent demise once you begin searching his pockets.

He has the false impression you’ll untie him when in the matter of fact you are hunting down for his house keys so you can reclaim all the items you bribed him with when he signed the divorce papers.

Bingo! Treasure attained.

“So do you know him or not?” The Joker taps his fingers on the cold metal of his gun.

You take a deep breath, place the duct tape on Adam’s lips and sneer:

“I never saw this asshole in my life!”

“The lady has spoken!” J slams the trunk, unnerved. “Frost, you can go home; Y/N will take me to the warehouse on 8th street: she can borrow a car from there and split. I’ll send someone in the morning to bring it back.”

“Boss, we can leave your SUV here and I can drive you both…”

“DID I STUTTER?” The Clown growls, unhappy with Jonny’s shenanigans.

“No sir.”

“Mister J,” you distract his menacing temper. “Do you want me to bandage your injury now?”

“Nah, you can do it at the warehouse.”

More fireworks illuminate the skies and none in the small group is watching them anymore: the show is over for everyone involved.

You wave at Frost and hop in The Joker’s car as he positions himself in the passenger’s seat; you can tell something is off, besides the obvious of course.

If you’d have to speculate, you would say that his behavior is of a man who wasn’t hurt just physically, but on a different level he doesn’t understand yet: J went after your ex-husband alone when he doesn’t take unnecessary risks; enough proof to indicate he loved Ella and sought revenge for her betrayal without any of his team’s help.

You wonder what he did to the woman: did he kill her? Or worse?... You won’t dig to find out regardless.

The truth is you are The Joker’s Turbo and the statement works in reverse too: he is your Joker who undeniably needs cheering.

And you always deliver. That’s why you’re his.

That’s why you appreciate he made an effort to compromise on Adam’s predicament even if he didn’t mean it.

You steadily drive on the trail until you arrive to the main road, then suddenly accelerate with a specific purpose in mind. You take a sharp turn on Morrison Avenue, already at 100 miles per hour.

“What are you doing?” J bitterly enunciates.

“Why am I your Ghost Driver Mister Joker?” you reply with a question.

“Nobody can catch up with you.”

“Yup, the car to catch up with me hasn’t been assembled. Here they are, Gotham’s finest!” Y/N boasts at the lights glistening behind. “They always have a nightly patrol on Morrison Avenue ready to catch law un-abiding citizens,” you exclaim and J’s smirk widens at your proposition. “What do you say we make them work for their donuts, hm?”

“That’s my girl!” The King gives his blessing while Turbo speeds up the street in a frenzy.

************

11:58 pm

You barely returned to you apartment after the random factors which cut your rendezvous short when the cell chimes: a message from Frost.

“Did you make it home safe?”

“Yes,” you text.

“I’ve been busy. Wait, I’ll send you a picture.”

Downloading picture…

“Holy… shit!!!!!” you yell at your phone because the image depicts a portrait of a freshly shaved Jonny Frost.

“Do you like it?” the sentence appears on the screen concomitant with a knock at the main entrance.

“Who is it?” you drag your feet on the carpet.

“Me.”

As soon as you are standing in front of him, Frost hides his nervousness the best way he can; and he’s not a nervous individual per se.

“I thought you might want to take a closer look…,” he enters the hallway and you slowly lock the door behind him.

You don’t say anything, just touch his face and he pecks your wrist, confessing a secret he kept bottled up for years:

“Do you know I’ve been in love with you from the first second I saw you?”

Y/N doesn’t have to calculate in order to whisper:

“That’s a long time.”

“What’s the verdict?...“ Jonny insists. “You approve the change?”

“Yes,” you kiss him and he holds you tighter, thinking that if he could spend ages in your arms, it would be an eternity well spent.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[ificanthaveu]

Snow in California || Shawn Mendes

Description: After a snow emergency, Shawn is left having to spend Christmas with your family. It’d be completely fine if it weren’t for the fact that they all assumed he’s your boyfriend.

Description per my notes (aka JUMBLY): you’re stuck in LA for Christmas but lucky for you my family’s here so you can just come with me….except there’s a catch, I told my family I have a boyfriend

A/N: Dani is EARLY with a FIC? ya bc she got plans tonight ope anyway ok this is LOOSELY based on “Snow in California” by Ariana Grande, and that wasn’t on purpose but then I was thinking of a title and I’m like wait it’s kinda like the song so I just rolled with it bc this bitch sucks at titles :) also there’s a lil part that parallels “A Christmas Miracle” and I wanna see if anyone catches it ;)

Word Count: 5.9k

12 Days of Ficmas

You watched the clock carefully, waiting for it to hit noon so Shawn would be done with this interview and you could finally get something to eat. You clicked through emails and scheduled a few more things before it would start to die down with Christmas being two days away.

You got lost in trying to schedule an interview for Shawn when you felt something kick your foot. You looked up to see Shawn looking down at you.

“Ready for some damn lunch?” He said, obviously just as hungry as you were. 

“Hell freaking yes,” you said as you slammed your laptop shut and followed him out the door to your car. 

You threw your bag in the back seat and started down the road to a small restaurant the two of you had been wanting to try. 

“When do you see your family?” Shawn asked once you pulled on top the main road. 

“I’ll probably leave midday tomorrow. See my grandparents on Christmas Eve night, and then hang out with my family on Christmas Day,” you said with a smile, not being able to wait for it to be Christmas. 

“Your flight leaves at 6:00 tomorrow, right?” you said as you glanced over at him.

He nodded his head with a small smile. 

“It’s only three days, but I can’t wait,” he said softly. 

You pulled into the parking lot, and Shawn stayed in the car while you ran in to grab your take out order. You got back in the car and plopped the large bag of food on Shawn’s lap.

“My place or yours?” You asked before you backed out.

“Mine. I need to bounce that song idea off you,” Shawn said. 

You nodded your head, remembering what he had told you before. 

“As long as we’re at that meeting at 5:00, we should be good,” you thought out loud as you turned onto Shawn’s street.

You and Shawn made your way up to his condo, getting ready to eat the food you could smell the whole ride home. 

You opened his door and were met with his cheerfully decorated living room that he spent so much time on. You sat down by the island and started pulling out food, wanting to try a little bit of everything. Shawn sat across from you, taking the food as you handed it to him. 

You ate in silence for a few minutes as you looked at your phones. A weather alert popped up. Blizzards around Toronto. You didn’t say anything, hoping it’d pass by or Shawn would never see it. 

You set your phone down after a while, talking to Shawn about the interview he just did, and your plans for your few days you both got to spend at home. You couldn’t get the blizzard warning out of your head. 

“Hey, did you see the weather warning?” You asked casually. 

Shawn furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. 

“There’s supposed to be blizzards around Toronto starting tonight,” you said slowly and carefully. 

Shawn’s face stayed blank, thinking it through. He picked his phone back up to check his email. His face dropped. 

“My flight was canceled,” he said under his breath. He scrolled mercilessly, trying to refresh the page, hoping this was a mistake. 

“Can you maybe find one for Christmas Eve?” You said, immediately pulling out your laptop to search for a new flight for him.

Thirty minutes of Shawn scrolling on his phone, and you looking at every possible way home on your laptop, it was hopeless. There were no flights going into Toronto until two days after Christmas. 

You sat on the arm of his couch, watching him pace back and forth as he talked to someone from the airport. He tugged at his hair and finally sat down on the edge of the couch right next to you. You moved your hand carefully to his back, rubbing it up and down as he tried to speak calmly to the person on the other end. 

“No…no, it’s fine. I get it. Yeah…thanks anyway,” Shawn said as he hung up the phone throwing it on the ground and resting his head in his hand. 

You continued to rub his back, and after a moment, he leaned into you, resting the side of his head on your knee. You could feel his wet cheeks soaking into your jeans. You threaded your fingers through his hair, not talking quite yet. 

You could feel his body shake as his shoulder bumped against your thigh. You moved your hand back down to his shoulders, resting your hand on his opposite one. 

“I’m so sorry, Shawn,” you finally whispered. 

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he let out a sob he definitely didn’t mean for you to hear. At that, you gently pushed him over a little, moving directly next to him and pulled his head into your chest. He adjusted to lay on the couch, his long legs hanging off the end as he rested his head on your lap and you continued to play with his hair. 

You typed out a quick text to Andrew, telling him what happened. He promptly canceled the meeting that was supposed to happen in an hour and asked if he could help with anything.

But there wasn’t.

Because it was two days before Christmas, and Shawn just found out he can’t spend it with his family. 

Instead of saying that, you just told him you’d let him know. 

You sat there with Shawn’s head laid in your lap for longer than you could keep track of. You watched the sunset from his living room window, still running your fingers through his hair as a gentle reminder that you were there when he needed to talk.

After probably an hour, he finally said, “This fucking sucks,” as he turned over to look up at you.

You nodded your head slowly as you looked down at him, “I know.”

It went silent again as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“What am I going to do?” He said barely above a whisper. 

“Anyone here will be glad to have you over. You could always go with Andrew or Josiah, and my family would love to have you as well,” you said. 

“Would they?” He asked as his voice broke.

You nodded your head and said, “Of course, you know they love you.”

He fell silent as he continued to look up at you, and you awaited his answer. 

“When are you leaving?” He asked.

“Tomorrow around 1:00 probably. We’re just going to my grandparents,” you explained. “And then Christmas morning we have breakfast and open gifts just with my family and spend the day lounging around doing absolutely nothing.”

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Shawn, my uncle’s ex-wife’s kids with her new husband came to our family Christmas last year. Trust me, everyone is welcome, especially you,” you said. 

“Ok,” he mumbled. “Should I bring flowers or something?”

“You don’t have to, but my grandma is a sucker for flowers,” you said as a small smile finally spread across his face.

“I feel like I should get your family presents, too,” he said as he thought this all through.

“You know you don’t have to,” you said. “Your presence is gift enough.”

He finally sat up and stood up quickly, stumbling a little as the blood rushed from his head.

“Will you go Christmas shopping with me?” He asked quickly as he glanced at the time. “The mall should still be open for two more hours, and I don’t know what your family likes.”

You nodded your head and stood up, following him to the door and then to his car. 

You took a few minutes in the car to call your parents and let them know. 

“Hello, dear!” Your mom cheerfully answered her phone.

“Hey, how are you doing with the Christmas prepping?” You asked as you played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Really good! I wish you’d bring that boyfriend of yours though,” she said with a huff.

You side glanced at Shawn, hoping he couldn’t hear what your mom was saying to you on the phone. Your mom had been trying to set you up with every guy around your age for the past few months, so you told her you were seeing someone. You “refused to tell her his name” so she didn’t “stalk him on social media,” but really, he just didn’t exist.

“Well, I am bringing someone actually. Shawn’s coming with,” you said.

“I should’ve known Shawn was the guy you were seeing! The way you two are always together even when you’re not working. Oh! Your dad will be so happy to hear this,” she rambled on.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Mom, I don’t-“

She cut you off before you could finish, “I gotta go, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And with that, she hung up. 

You dropped the phone into your lap and banged your head against the window.

A look of panic spread across Shawn’s face.

“They don’t want me to come, do they? I should’ve known. It’s fine, really-“ 

You cut him off, “No, no, they’re really excited you’re coming,” you said with a little too much sarcasm, confusing Shawn further. 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re serious,” he said slowly.

“They think we’re dating,” you said, not daring to look at him, as he whipped his head around to look at you. 

“Why?” Shawn said with a laugh. 

You groaned and rested your face in your hands, shaking your head as Shawn continued to laugh to himself.

“I told them I was seeing someone to get them off my back, and when I saw I was bringing you, she assumed,” you said. “And before I could correct her, she was hanging up on me.”

“If this were to happen to literally anyone, it’d be you,” Shawn said. 

“I’ll call her back later and explain,” you mumbled, looking down at your phone.

“Don’t,” Shawn said quickly.

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrow as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I mean…you’re letting me spend Christmas with your family, the least I can do is pretend to be your boyfriend, so your family gets off your back,” he said. 

You studied him as he stayed serious. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” You said with hesitation evident in your voice.

“[Y/N], it’ll be easy. It’s for three days. I’ve just gotta throw my arm around you occasionally and embellish our everyday stories a little bit. Trust me. No one will even know,” he said with maybe a little too much confidence.

“So, when did we start dating?” You asked him.

“Well, what did you tell your mom?” He turned the question back at you. 

“I first said I was seeing someone…beginning of October? So we’ve been together since September,” you said.

“What day?” He said. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah. What if someone asks each of us individually what day, and we say different days?” He said.

“Alright, then it was the twelfth,” you said, thinking of a random date. 

“We were in New York that week. Perfect,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the mall. “How did we find out we had feelings for each other?”

“You wrote a song about me,” you said with admiration in your eyes and a hand to your heart. 

He gave you a look, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Come on, it’s really not difficult to believe at all,” you said with a scoff. 

“Is it?” He asked as he parked and got out of the car. 

You followed suit and walked towards the entrance with him. 

“You write songs about every girl that’s looked at you. Of course, you wrote one about me,” you said.

“Ouch,” he said under his breath. 

“You’re only saying that because I’m right,” you taunted. 

“Ok, fine. I wrote a song about you. How did you find out it was about you?” He diverted.

“You played it for me, and you referenced a specific memory that happened between the two of us. So I was able to put two and two together,” you said as the two of you walked in and started walking down the first row of stores. 

“And what’s the memory?” He continued.

“I’m doing all the hard work. You pick the memory,” you said, turning into one of your sister’s favorite stores. 

“Does it have to be a real memory, or can I make that up?” He said as you tried to find the sweater your sister wanted.

“It probably should be real, so we can stay as close to the truth as possible,” you said. 

“Alright…” he trailed off, thinking about his time spent with you. “That time we went shopping at midnight, and then you got me in that car accident.”

“It was not my fault!” You defended as you threw the sweater at him. “She’s been looking at this for weeks, and my mom couldn’t find it anywhere. She’ll love you forever.”

Shawn held up the sweater and nodded his head, “Perfect. And it was totally your fault.”

You and Shawn wandered around the mall as you helped him pick out gifts for your family. Two hours later and you walked out with four gifts and the perfectly fabricated story. 

It was late by the time you got back to your apartment, plopping down on the couch, wanting to go to bed, but knowing you had nothing packed yet. 

Shawn was coming over at 8:00 the next morning to ensure you had all your lies in order, so the packing had to be done now. 

You slowly got up and trudged to your bedroom. You grabbed the outfit you were wearing for Christmas Eve and hung it up on your door to put on the next morning. You threw your Christmas pajamas and your Christmas Day outfit along with some other clothes into a suitcase. 

After packing everything up, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at your dresser in front of you. On top of it sat a little black box. The gift you’d picked out for Shawn weeks ago.

You had contemplated whether or not you had wanted to give it to him since the moment you ordered it. You knew he’d like it. But you didn’t want him to think it was something someone who was “more than a friend and a coworker” would give him. Even though you definitely wanted that. 

You stood up and grabbed the box, opening it up to run your finger across the cool metal of the bracelet, an almost exact replica of the one he had lost when you were in New York. 

You closed it back up and put it in the bag of gifts for your family. It’d make this relationship more believable. You’d at least try to convince yourself of that. 

You tossed and turned all night, and so did Shawn.

He couldn’t stop stressing over how he was going to ruin this. He ran every single possibility through his head, and he just knew he was destined to somehow mess up the story. 

Of course, it was incredibly hard to mess it up since most of it was true. He had fallen for you in September. It was when you were in New York. He was writing songs about you. 

The small box on his nightstand seemed to be screaming at him.

You’d been complaining for months about needing a ring that matched the bracelet you wore every day. Shawn found one. And it was perfect. The perfect gift a boyfriend would give to his girlfriend, but you were only pretending, and he didn’t want you to feel weird about it. 

Without letting himself regret it, he stood up, grabbed the ring and put it in the top pocket of his duffle bag. 

Both of you fell asleep only a few hours before Shawn had to be at your apartment, so he showed up with two very large coffees.

Once you opened the door for him, he carried in his duffle bag and his own bag of presents. 

“Merry Christmas Eve!” He said as he set his things down. “Alright, babe, let’s practice,” he said with a wink as he handed you your coffee. 

“Well, thank you…honey?” You said with hesitation.

He slightly shook his head at you, “You’ve gotta commit.”

“Thank you, honey,” you said with a small smile as you sat down on the couch. 

“Incredibly believable. When did I ask you out officially?” He asked, sitting across from you.

“September 12. We were in New York, and I walked in on you practicing a song you were writing. I knew it was about me after I asked you to sing it for me,” you said. “How did you know you were falling for me?”

“Well, you were the only person who would call me out on my bullshit, and I wasn’t used to people doing that. So it just drew me to you. I slowly fell for every other aspect of you,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you had to remind yourself this wasn’t real.

“What’s our favorite thing to do together?” He asked.

“Walks in the park with ice cream from that little shop down the street,” you said, taking a drink from your coffee. “What’s the song that’s about me?”

“Well, it hasn’t been released yet, and an artist never reveals the project before it’s done,” he said with the softest smile. 

“I think we’re good,” you say with a shrug. 

“I just gotta make sure I’m always near you with an arm around you or holding your hand,” he added. 

“Exactly,” you said. You glanced down at the time. It was barely 9:00. 

“We really didn’t have to meet this early,” you whispered. 

“I know, but I was nervous,” he whispered back. 

You spent the next few hours practicing random facts about each other and going over memories you had to make up while you both sprawled across the sofa. 

“Do you think it’s going to look…unnatural?” Shawn asked as he sat up. “With my arm being around you. Do I look comfortable?”

He brought his arm around you, resting it on the top of the couch as you leaned slightly into his side. 

“I feel like we look good,” you said, looking over at him. “Hold my hand.”

He slowly laced his fingers with yours as you both fell silent, staring down at your intertwined hands. 

Shawn coughed after a moment, pulling his hand away. 

“Yeah, looks good,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as you checked the time. 

“If we leave now, we can get more coffee on the way there,” you said with a hopeful smile. 

“Sounds fantastic to me,” he said as he stood up, turning around to help you up. 

You grabbed your things and walked down to your car waiting in the parking lot. You threw your things in the back, quickly checking to make sure the box was still in the bag. 

A little more than an hour and you were back home, pulling into your parents’ driveway. You parked your car and looked over at Shawn. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. 

You looked out your window to see your mom waiting at the door. 

“Let’s do this,” you said as you got out of the car and waved to your mom. You went to grab your bags, but Shawn stopped you. 

“I got it, babe,” he said, brushing you away. 

You tried not to make it obvious at how shocked you were at how he was playing it up already. This might be easier than you thought. 

I greeted your mom with a big smile and a hug as Shawn followed behind you with his arms filled with bags. 

“Merry Christmas!” She said as she held you tight. She let you go after a moment and watched Shawn struggle. 

She quickly took the two bags of gifts out of his hands, and you both had the same expression on your face. 

“I can take that, Mom,” you quickly said as you grabbed your bag of gifts.

“And I can take that, no worries at all,” Shawn said with a smile. 

Your mom patted him on the shoulder as you both walked into the house. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked as you peaked into the living room.

“Your dad and Rachel ran to the grocery store, Aaron is meeting us at Grandma’s,” your mom explained as she shut the front door. 

“Well, we’re going to go put our stuff upstairs,” you said as you gently nudged Shawn to move forward. 

You slipped in front of him as you lead him to your old bedroom. You kicked the door open and set the bag down in the corner of the room. 

You turned around to see Shawn beaming as he looked at the pictures that lined your walls. You slid the bags off his arms as he continued to look around your room. 

“You were so cute,” he said softly as he pointed at a picture with you and your best friend in second grade. 

After setting the rest of the bags down, you stood next to him, looking at the picture. 

“Who’s that?” He asked as he pointed at a picture of you and your high school boyfriend. 

You cringed as you reached up and tugged the picture down. 

“That was supposed to be thrown away,” you said, tossing it in the trash. 

“Ah, gotcha,” he said. “Now you have to fill the empty space.”

“Shawn, I don’t live here anymore,” you reminded him. 

He shrugged, “Well, yeah, but still.”

For the first time, he turned around and looked at you, his eyes then drifting to your bed. 

“We’re going to have to share that, aren’t we?” He said quietly. 

You nodded your head, “Well, you are my boyfriend, so of course, we’d share a bed. And we don’t have a guest room.”

An awkward silence came between you two. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you said with a pat on his shoulder as you tugged him out of your room, gently lacing your hands together as you pulled him down the stairs. 

You were met with your mom baking in the kitchen, finishing up cookies to bring to your grandma’s house in a few hours. Shawn leaned against the counter, and you leaned gently against his side. 

“Need any help?” You asked. 

Your mom simply shook her head, “Nope, I’m in the zone. Rather you did not interrupt me, dear.”

Your jaw dropped as Shawn laughed at your mom. 

“We’ll just get out of your hair then,” you said a little too dramatically as you tugged Shawn into the sunroom at the back of your house. 

You settled into the couch in the corner, crossing your legs and facing him as he did the same. 

“How are you doing?” He whispered. 

You nodded your head, “good,” you whispered back. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“It’s because I’m a really great boyfriend,” he said with a confident smile. 

Before you could respond, the back door opened, and your dad and sister walked in with a few bags. 

“Hey!” Your dad said cheerfully. You stood up and gave him a quick hug, and Shawn followed, shaking his hand. 

“Nice to see you, Shawn,” he said with a small smile. 

“You too, sir,” he said back. 

“Well, we’ll leave you two,” Rachel said as she motioned for your dad to follow her into the kitchen. 

You sat back down on the couch in your original spot, this time turning to rest your head on Shawn’s shoulder. 

“Tired?” He whispered. 

You nodded your head gently, “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Me too,” he said, settling back into the couch and pulling you with him so your head lay on his chest. 

“We still have two hours,” you mumbled.

“Then nap,” Shawn whispered.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you relaxed into him and fell asleep. It felt too real. That this was your actual boyfriend, and it was his first holiday with your family. You had to beg yourself to not believe that. 

You felt someone tug on your foot, and you jolted awake, smacking your head on Shawn’s jaw as you both groaned. 

You shifted up to your knees, rubbing the top of your head as you brought your hand to Shawn’s jaw. 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry, honey,” you said through a laugh as you traced your thumb across his jaw gently. 

“Not the first time, won’t be the last,” he said as he smiled sleepily up at you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t even realize what you were doing before you leaned in and kissed the side of his jaw where your head hit. You could feel his breath hitch. 

“All better,” you whispered, as you pulled away, his eyes not leaving yours. 

“Alright, love birds. We’re leaving for Grandma’s,” Rachel said, being the one who tugged on your foot. 

You both nodded and stood up, finding your shoes and hopping into your car. You drove the short distance to your Grandma’s house as the car was silent. 

“That was good,” Shawn said as he broke the silence. 

“What?”

“When you kissed my jaw, that was good. As in, like. Very believable,” he stumbled over his words. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Rachel’s a sucker for shit like that.”

The silence fell again as you pulled up and parked before making your way into your grandma’s house. 

The night went exactly as it was supposed to. Shawn met all your aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, while also being introduced to other people who showed up. You spent your night in the back corner of the couch with Shawn’s arm draped around you. You barely stood up all night, as any time you needed something, Shawn said he’d get it and would leave with a gentle pat on your knee. 

Your aunt slid into his spot one of those times, giving you a look. 

“Quite the gentleman, huh?” She said. 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah, he’s pretty perfect.”

“How long has it been? And how come I just found out yesterday when your mom called me?” your aunt asked. 

“Since September, and you know how it is. His private life has to be incredibly quiet for it to stay private,” you said. 

“Are you ok with that?”

Out of all the questions you were prepared for, this wasn’t one you practiced. 

“Um,” you paused. “Yeah, I am. I mean, I work for him,” you said with a chuckle. “Some people wouldn’t take that too well.”

Your aunt nodded her head, “Well, when it’s real as it is between you two, people shouldn’t even think that but that’s just how it is sometimes,” she said with a sigh. “One day.”

“One day,” you repeated, your heart beating out of your chest at how she said this was so real. You wanted to shake her and tell her it wasn’t but you wanted it to be so bad.

She stood up and went back to her spot as Shawn came back and handed you your glass of wine. 

“Am I going to have to drive?” He asked with a smirk as you took another drink.

“Yep,” you said, curling into his side again. 

The night flew by after everyone ate dinner and opened gifts. Everyone was eager to talk to Shawn and you about your relationship. The two of you answered every question perfectly. No one suspected a thing.

Before you knew it, Shawn was driving you home as you dozed off in the front seat. He pulled into the driveway behind your parents. He rounded the car and opened your door. 

“Come on, love,” he whispered, kneeling down by your door as you looked at him. 

“Do I have to?” You mumbled. 

“Want me to carry you?” He said with a small smile.

You nodded your head as he turned around, and you slid onto his back. He shut the door and walked toward the back door with the rest of your family as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

You heard a chorus of goodnights before you felt Shawn shut your bedroom door and set you on your bed. You laid back and shut your eyes, as you heard Shawn rustling around, presumably changing. 

“Come on, [Y/N],” he said with a quiet chuckle, poking your side as he said it. 

You groaned as you opened your eyes and met his gaze just inches away from you. 

“You’re going to regret falling asleep in jeans,” he whispered. 

You sighed as you finally got up and trudged to your bathroom. You glanced down at the bag of gifts before quickly changing and going back into your room. 

“I’m going to run these downstairs real quick,” you said as you saw Shawn laying in the bed, scrolling through his phone. “Want me to grab yours?”

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, I can do it tomorrow morning.”

You walked downstairs quietly and rounded the living room towards the Christmas tree. You took a deep breath as you put the gifts under the tree among the rest. The box holding Shawn’s gift stayed in your hands a little too long. You hesitated before standing up and bringing the gift with you into the sunroom, setting it on the tv stand. 

You went back upstairs to your room, seeing Shawn curled up in the covers with his eyes closed. 

You crawled in on the opposite side, pulling the covers up and facing him. 

“I didn’t get to ask you what side you usually sleep on,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed. 

“You guessed right,” you said. 

His eyes flickered open, and he smiled at you as you returned it. 

With that, you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the sound of Shawn’s deep breaths. 

Shawn woke up first. In fact, Shawn woke up with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist as your arm gripped his middle. He looked down at you peacefully sleeping and again reminded himself that this could never happen. You would never feel that way about him. 

He gently removed your arm from him. You shuffled away, turning the opposite direction and burying your head in the pillow, not waking up. 

Shawn breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up and grabbed his gifts, tiptoeing downstairs. 

He set your family’s gifts among the rest and held the small box that held yours in his hands. Without letting himself think too much, he set it at the very back of the tree. 

He stood up to see your brother leaning against the doorway. 

“Merry Christmas,” Aaron said as he moved to sit on the couch. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Shawn said back, sitting across from him. 

Aaron motioned to the tree with his head, “What did you get her?” 

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Shawn said. 

Before Aaron could pry further, you walked into the room and sat down next to Shawn as he moved his arm to wrap around you and kissed the side of your head. 

“Morning,” you mumbled.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him, “Merry Christmas.”

“Coffee, anyone?” Your dad asked as he peaked into the living room. Everyone said yes as he started brewing a pot as Rachel and your mom made their way into the living room. 

Your dad brought everyone a mug as presents were started. 

Your family all loved their gifts from Shawn, commending him on how well he did, and continuously saying he didn’t have to bring anything. 

The gifts dwindled down as Shawn watched the box get closer and closer. Finally, it was the only present left. 

“Who’s that for?” Rachel asked as your mom grabbed it. 

“[Y/N],” she said as she handed it to you. 

You turned to look at Shawn, “You got me something?” You said quietly. 

Shawn nodded his head as he grabbed the box from your mom. 

“Yours is in the other room,” you whispered. 

“Want to go over there?” He asked.

“We’re going to go, uh-“ you stuttered. 

“Just in the other room,” Shawn finished.

“Yeah, to open ours,” you said with a nod. 

Everyone shrugged their shoulders and nodded as you stood up and tugged Shawn to the sunroom, grabbing the box off the stand and settling into the couch. 

“Who’s going first?” He asked. 

“You can,” you said, the nerves setting in. 

Shawn carefully unwrapped the box and pulled off the top. 

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath. “How did you...I can’t believe-“ he was speechless as he traced his finger across the cool metal of the bracelet. 

“It’s the same one, well almost,” you told him. “I somehow found that place in Thailand and had them send me one.” 

“[Y/N], I don’t know what to say,” he said as he looked at you. 

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to control the heat rising to your cheeks. 

Without another word, Shawn handed you your gift. 

You hesitated before unwrapping it and then opening the top. 

You gasped as you looked at the ring staring back at you. 

“Shawn,” you said slowly as you took the ring out. You slid it on your finger carefully. “It matches,” you said with a small smile as you looked down at it. 

“I know you’ve been wanting one that matches your mom’s bracelet, and then I found that one,” he said. 

Silence fell between you two as the realization hit both of you. 

“Shawn,” you said slowly, looking up at him. “This isn’t a gift you give your coworker.”

“Neither is this,” he whispered back. 

You went quiet again, not being able to look at him again. 

“What if I don’t want you to just be my coworker?” He whispered as his voice shook. 

You looked up at him, finally. He looked nervous. 

“What if I want the same thing?” you whispered back.

“Then Andrew isn’t going to be too happy,” Shawn responded. 

You both smiled, leaning in closer and closer. 

“But who cares what he thinks,” he whispered before finally pressing his lips against yours. 

Sparks flew as Shawn leaned back and you followed, resting your hand on his cheek as he deepened the kiss. After a few moments, Shawn carefully pulled away. 

“I could kiss you all day and more, but I don’t think your parents want to see that,” he said with a smile before you pressed another quick kiss to his lips. 

“I know it sucks, but I’m glad your flight was canceled,” you said as you curled back into his side, this time it was real. 

Shawn rested his head against yours after pressing a kiss to your head.

“Me too.”

Hey guys I love receiving love (support your local fic writers kids) so PLEASE reply, reblog, send me an ask, a message THE WORKS

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[irelise]

Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider

Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.

Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!

Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused) aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.

Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.

So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.

The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships

at the end, on a dusty road  (8154 words, Yassen/Alex) aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!

Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:

The wind scatters your brave songs Across the green field. Songs of the past, Leaving them alone with your glory, And right at the end, on a dusty road…

i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.

ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”

ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:

1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.

2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.

He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.

He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.

.

...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.

(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)

---

Lemniscate  (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen) Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type

Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again  - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)

---

This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia

closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen) aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?

This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:

Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing

Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days

Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.

Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.

There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.

Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.

A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.

Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.

And an excerpt:

Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.

Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.

He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.

There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.

The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”

In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) Part 2

(This chapter has been rewritten/ edited since original post)

General Notice: I’m trying to get more works out during this time that is rough for all of us. That being said I am trying to keep it’s quality up.

This is technically a prequel to Fallen Angel (Work in progress), however it can be read as a stand alone series.

Summary:

If your reading as a stand alone: A witch heads back to Miss Robichaux's 20 years after she left in hopes of being a teacher there. The only problem is she hasn’t aged a day.

If your from Fallen Angel: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative.

I’m trying something with this and I’m not sure how it’s going to work so any feedback will be appreciated whether through comments, or anon asks. I did something similar in my Gone and left your world series were it had ~~~ in it and it either jumped, went to a flashback or dream. I did that here and it’s for the past/dream. 

This was originally going to be three different small chapters but wanted to reduce the number of chapters and decided to explain stuff I couldn’t through the ‘present’ basically context and junk. 

as these parts are split up I can make a post where there all together and link it here if anyone wants. 

Also they are so many parallels from my other series and some weren’t intentional.

Warnings: Slight smut, nightmare, murder and all that good stuff. (Everything is tame)

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4(will be added when done)

She gave you the job without a second thought, thrilled to have her friend back in her life. This time around, it was different. The way she interacted with you, there was more behind every touch, every word she said. You had danced around your feelings for her from the second you fell for her. You didn't know you were gay; you had never liked anyone before and haven't since. Maybe you weren't. Maybe it was just her. She was the only thing your heart desired. No one else seemed appealing. She was straight, she got married to a man and a vile man at that. No one liked him in Cordelia's close circle, but you were all nice for her sake. However, her mother was always vocal about how he detested the man. She wasn't the hugest fan of you either, but you had something worth wide in her eyes, power.

You weren't one to force your feelings upon people, you didn't want to burden her with the knowledge that her long-time best friend was in love with her. Knowing how she was back then; she would blame herself for you falling for her. You didn't want that. Keeping it a secret was better.

She asked you about your time away, but you were reluctant to tell. It was a blur, nothing notable ever happened or at least that's what you told her. "I spent most of your time at your flat." And some ramblings on about jobs so she didn't grow concerned.

You were offered a job here a few years back by her mother about the time Cordelia was blinded. You jumped at the opportunity but as you went to take the job, the balance of the world shifted. Something dark was living on our earth and growing with power. You tasked yourself with discovering it before it discovered your fellow witches or any other good on the planet.

Something told you that the answer to some of your woes would be found with the source of power. The self-appointment job was a failure and you found yourself at the place you ditched it for.

It had been a couple of weeks since you got hired. You sat cross-legged in Cordelia's room on the love seat marking some of the girls' work. Papers scattered on the ground and the couch you had been sleeping on. Cordelia had yet to give you a bedroom.

"Are you sure you're comfortable on the love seat? Wouldn't you prefer sleeping on the bed?" She would say. Her desire for you to join her on the bed masked in such a way that your tired brain couldn't register as her quietly begging for you to join her. In your head, she was still married. She had mentioned multiple times that her and her ex broke up but a month or two doesn't rewrite years in your mind.

You had finished your marking an hour ago and had moved onto Zoe's to ease her workload. She managed to get behind, having double the classes you had that day as well as having to plan her work next week. You thought it was a nice thing to do. While, you were trying to distract your brain. Stopping working forced you to think and that hadn't gone well for you in the past. Countless nights spent in denial, regretting what could have been if only you had spoken up. Stayed away from the school. Ignored your mother's letter. Those thoughts were less common now. Instead, your mind flooded with thoughts of what was wrong with your body. Why your growth had remained preserved at the ripe age of 18- if that.

You threw another log on the fire before heading back to the marking. You focused on the flames using your pyrokinesis to refuel the fire. You smiled at a successful job done. Another hour passed and you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Strong hands gripped your shoulders.

"You're still up Y/N/N?" You looked over your shoulder to face Cordelia. "It's nearly 3."

You checked your watch. She was right, you didn't notice the time pass.

"I'm marking-"

"Zoe's work. I know, she informed me." Cordelia gathered some of the work on the seat moving it to the floor.

"Don't put them near the unmarked ones," you call out as she does so. She moved them instantly away from the unmarked ones. Taking the seat next to you, she removed the paper and pen from your hands and set it with the other papers. "Delia?"

She shushed you, pulling you closer to her. The two of you stared at the fireplace, the crackling of fire was the only sound in the room. The students were long asleep as the two of you should have been. She shuffled even closer to you. She eased your head into her shoulder, her hand finding it's place in on your head, playing with your locks.

"I appreciate that you offered to help Zoe with her work, but you do need a break too-"

"I get breaks-"

"That don't involve studying magic?" Okay maybe not. She knew you too well. Magic was your life, what else do you need? "You barely get any proper sleep. You sleep on this uncomfortable chair which is too small for you to sleep on."

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not. You're sleeping on my bed tonight. No question."

"Where will you sleep?"

"On my bed."

"But-"

"It's big enough for the two of us and it's not the first time we've shared a bed." You blushed thinking back on the few times you've shared a bed with her. Cordelia chuckled at your reaction. "You're too cute." You got redder. You begged her to stop but she kept going. She eventually ended it when you got too loud but not before she attacked you with tickles. You both were dying of laughter, you were surprised no one came to see what was going on. "Okay, bedtime." She patted your leg before rising from her spot. She laid a handout for you to take it. You yawned. "Come on captain sleepy."

"That was stupid."

"Shut up."

You yawned again, "A goodnight's sleep does sound nice and your bed is really soft."

Cordelia led you into her wardrobe, forcing you to rest on an ottoman while she retrieved pyjamas for you. She came back to you half asleep propped up against the wall. She chuckled not wanting to wake you up. She ended up shaking you awake lightly, handing you the a long sleeve shirt and pants. Without complaint, you changed into the clothes as she got herself ready for bed.

Once tucked comfortably into her bed, you wiggled about to get comfortable. She hopped in beside you, pulling you closer to her before she covered herself in her sheets. You stilled and cleared your mind for a peaceful slumber. As the night progressed you found yourself growing closer to the warm body beside you.

~~~

"Catch her! Stop Y/N!" People shouted as you ran through people's heaven's gate crashing and accidentally destroying them in the process. You jumped from room to room, hiding amongst people's belongings to lose the guards chasing you.

The group zoomed past. You sighed before stepping out of your hideaway. The air was musky, you got the sense you weren't home anymore. Your powers were unhinged, unable to control them was becoming more dangerous than ever. Accidentally transmuting into an unknown location was never good.

You've stepped into the devil's den.

You wandered, getting your bearings. It was all too new to you, how where you expected to follow along?

You stumbled into him, the man you were designed after.

~~~

You screamed, bolting upright in the bed. Your legs bend and move closer to your chest. The think sheets flopped off the top part of your body, pooling at your lap. Your upper torso and head drenched in a layer of sweat. Your hands flew to her head, covering your eyes from the monstrosity you saw in your dream.

The light on the bedside table closest to Cordelia switched on.

It wasn't the first time Cordelia had woken from someone having night terrors. In a school with a wide range of ages, it was more common than you'd think. The younger girls had them the most, as you would expect. Their minds were more active but even the older ones had them from time to time. Some of the girls were unfortunately exposed to trauma while growing up, being unaccepted for who they were as a witch. What she didn't expect was for the reaction to be so jarring. The sudden snap from unconsciousness to conscious was difficult for her body to handle. She needed a second to wrap her brain around the situation which was something she didn't want to do.

"Y/N, look at me."

You shook your head, beginning to rock back and forth. You mumbled out incoherently, describing the beast you saw. It was horrifying.

She asked if she could touch you when you didn't respond she slowly reached out until she made contact. You didn't flinch away (which she took as a good sign) nor did you move towards her touch. Ever so gently, she eased your hands away from your face, revealing your blotchy face and irritated eyes.

Your eyes flickered open, taking in the room around you. The face was gone. Feeling the weight of a hand on your shoulder, you turned Cordelia.

The door opened revealing three girls checking in on their headmistress and her roommate. They heard screams and wanted to make sure nothing bad happened.

"What happened?", "Is everything alright?" the girls asked.

"Nightmare. Can one of you head to the bathroom and run a hot bath?" Mallory sneaked past to fulfil the request. Delicately, Cordelia moved you closer to her. If there was any sign of apprehension, she would stop and resume once you were comfortable. "Shh, everything's okay. You are safe. Nothing's going to hurt you."

You sobbed, occasionally choking while trying to get a breath in.

"I-I s-saw evil," you stuttered out. "H-he greet-ed 'e w-ith o-open-"

What scared you the most was how you felt when gazing at evil itself. There was a void in your soul and bearing witness to the being began the healing process. The wound like while was tender but the pain that came along with it was gone.

"Shh. Take a moment to catch your breath."

"I-I was in hell-"

"It must have been terrifying but your back now, with us," Cordelia said. You knew wasn't trying to be condescending but you felt like she was.

Mallory notified Cordelia when the bath was finished. The supreme thanked the girl. You had calmed down significantly since then. Zoe and the other girl, information anyone who was awoken by your screams that you were okay, and it was safe to go back to bed.

The bathwater was warm against your skin, relieving you of the dirty feeling you can only get from being drenched in sweat. Cordelia remained by your side as you begged her to be though she was reluctant to leave herself.

The times were few and far between when you would freak out as you did tonight. At least in Cordelia's eyes, she rarely had you complain about any major problems or come to her for some level of consolement.

"It felt so... real."

"Dreams usually do."

"I guess I can't get a good sleep even on a good bed."

"So, you liked the bed?"

"I said I liked it before."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you? Would you consider moving to it permanently?"

"You want me to share a bed with you?" Cordelia nodded. You chuckled. "I don't know how you expect me to keep my hands off you- I mean-" Cordelia looked up at you grinning. "Wait, have you purposely not given me a room?"

"You know as well as I do, there are beds to spare."

"You're evil. You forced me to sleep on that couch."

"You chose to sleep there, darling."

"'Darling', what are an old married couple now?"

"Weren't we always?"

"What the fuck Cordelia?"

~~~

You, the 2.0, crafted in his likeness with the removal of his ill-intent. You knew what you were, they didn't bother hiding that. You knew him to be pure evil, corrupter of God's plan.

Free will, something you weren't allowed to have. We were all meant to be subservient to the Lord. He, the morning star, was the first to be cast out of heaven. He was defiant, not agreeing with god. All he would've had to do was simply said "I sinned, I submit, please forgive me", and the matter would've been resolved. But he was too arrogant, feeling too proud to bow down. He used his own logic and blamed God for misguiding him. Why would God give them knowledge if they weren't meant to use it?

~~~

Cordelia had been going on a lot of emergency meetings through your time at the school. Some appeared to be beneficial, like the time she first went and returned with two girls (Queenie and Madison) whom you were informed later on had died under her care. Unbeknown to you, you were replacing one of their jobs.

You heard about the boy's school from the woman who attended but remained in the dark about the specifics, being told it was council business and to "not worry you pretty little head," by Cordelia. You reckoned you had a right to know if it concerned the students or Cordelia's (as your unofficial girlfriend) wellbeing in any way but she denied that it did. You stupidly accepted her answer convinced that she would tell you when something goes awry.

You got on incredibly well with Queenie. You had some of the same favourite tv shows and she had many interesting stories to tell about her time trapped as a ghost in the Hotel Cortez. You happened to be a supernatural nut which explained your love for everything magical. You may have bombarded her with way too many questions about what it was like to be a ghost, people had to pull you away in order for you to leave her alone. She filled you in on her side of attending the school, adding in all the juicy gossip that Zoe and Cordelia left out.

Madison was hesitant to interact with you. You were the young hip teacher that happened to join after she died. You mean she didn't have to be stuck with Cordelia holding them back the whole time? You hadn't interacted with her until the fifth night after your initial introduction. She was in the kitchen raiding the liquor cabinet.

"I wouldn't drink that one if I were you. Cordelia will have your head if you open that one."

"Like I care," she said breaking open the bottle of expensive white wine.

"At least pour me a glass if you aren't going to listen to my warning."

She groaned, pulling out two wine glasses and pouring you both a lot. The two of you talked about everything and nothing. You'd finished the bottle by the time you'd retire for the night. You made sure she made it to bed safely before retiring for the night. You were all giddy by the time you stumbled into Cordelia's room. The woman was bundled up under the blankets with a book in her hand. She took one look at you and shook her head, "Madison?"

"Madison," you confirmed, flopping onto the bed giving Cordelia little time for her to move her legs out of the way. "She drank your wine."

"All of it?"

"I had some too."

"I noticed."

"Told her I'd pay you back for it." You scrambled up, crawling on top of her. "I never told her how," you purred, leaning down and taking Cordelia's lips for yourself. Your tongue tasted of the wine. You took no time building into the passion of the kiss. She moaned, re-adjusting how she rested beneath you. You pulled away, murmuring "Would you like that?"

"Yes," she moaned.

You made your way down her body, removing any fabric that got in your path. You paused, seeing the wound on her abdomen. The skin surrounding it was irritated and bruised. What you assumed was a scab concaved into her. Cordelia whined asking why you had stopped. In need for more she forgot about the mark of her fading on her body. She'd hidden it well from you this far, always having that area dressed.

You shook off all the questions you wanted to ask her, instead giving her what she is owed. No reason to ruin the night for the sake of feeding your curiosity. You took your time liking and sucking the right places to turn her into a bumbling mess beneath you. She cried out for more attention. She recalled hearing the click of the door locking but knowing it wasn't her to do it. She wondered if you were going to soundproof the room too.

"Scream for me baby. Scream so the whole coven can hear."

In the little time the two of you had been a thing, you'd kept any PDA behind the close door of your shared bedroom. Anything fun you had, the noise was kept to a minimum or the room was soundproofed in advance. All those times, Cordelia had been in charge. She didn't want to ruin her reputation and didn't want any of the girls to know what she does in her spare time. You, in your tipsy state, was overcome with a newfound level of confidence. It was as though you were someone else feeding off your need to please the woman you'd been in love with for years.

The next morning you were down bright and earlier. Your chipper self poured a cup of coffee before making your way to where Zoe, Queenie and Madison were. They all turn their attention to you the moment you walk in. "I paid her back," you said, directed to Madison as you took her seat at the table. Madison looked slightly horrified (and maybe even impressed?) at you.

"How long do you think it will take her to come downstairs?"

"She's already late."

"I wouldn't expect her to be down any time soon, I wore her out last night."

"Too much detail," Zoe said. The other two laughed.

Fifteen minutes before the students were expected to be getting up, Cordelia rushed into the room. She tried to play it off as calm and collective but she was stressing about being behind schedule.

"Sorry about being late, I slept through my alarm."

"Didn't you get much sleep last night?" Queenie asked, her and Madison were trying to suppress their laugh.

Cordelia deadpanned to you, "You told them, didn't you?"

"Didn't have too, we heard it all," Madison said.

"Oh God, the students. Y/N, what were you thinking?"

"Delia, they're all old enough to know about sex."

"It doesn't mean they should be forced to hear that." You got up and headed to the kitchen before she could scold you any further. "Where are you going?"

"To get dressed, students will be up soon."

~~~

You resonated with his actions and logic, maybe because you were him in some way. That's the problem with the likeness, the blurred line between who you are and who you are seen to be. If he betrayed then so would you?

Human's fascinated you, the ability to come back from sin and earn there place in the holy kingdom. It wasn't forced but advised. Sin still existed and you could choose to break the 10 commandments. Choice. You wanted to choose your life not be bound to a memory of someone else and forced through the wrongdoings as if it were prophesied.

He wasn't like you expected, rude or demeaning. He was cunning, motivated by ill-intent, but who's to judge if it's morally good or bad? Those concepts confused you, bad could be good in another's eyes.

The man knew who you were exactly, rumours of your creation spread fast in the spirit world. "Sister. I didn't expect to meet you so soon. I would have prepared for your arrival." He offered his land to you, to help rule his throne. He had bigger plans for the end times than he let on. He fed into your desire, the same confusion he had experienced at the beginning of his rebellion.

He offered you whatever you could have wanted in order to steal you from the grips of your creator. "I want to understand the purpose of all of this. Why are humans so important? Why are expected to follow subserviently?." A life of my own.

"Then go, seek out your own answers and when you get bored or don't like the answers that you find, there's a place for you here."

"How do I get there? I don't have control-" You'd gotten there by mistake, you couldn't your powers yet. The angels expected you to which is how the ruckus in heaven began.

Think of suddenly being were you want to go and step forward. You'll be incognito unless you want to be seen. No angel has had long term exposure to humans, who knows the damages it could cause.

~~~

It was the first time Myrtle Snow had gotten some time alone with Cordelia after their arrival back from their council trip. She wasn't happy about Cordelia's decision to allow a male student at Hawthorne to compete in The Seven Wonders. Cordelia informed her that she'd seen the future and it appeared grim. At some point she knew she would have to identify her successor but she needed to buy herself some time to figure out who.

Myrtle mentioned Mallory, and how she witnessed the girl completely reversed the wounds of a dead doe and brought it back to its youth. They couldn't deny Langdon's power and though she doubted he was the next in line, he could be what brings the end.

Cordelia admitted her powers are growing weaker and feeling herself dying. She told her Aunt that she hadn't told anyone about her dwindling power except her.

"It's sooner or later Y/N is going to figure it out," Cordelia said. She feared telling you, you already noticed the markings her sickness brought along. You knew too much about magic, sooner or later you'd question her and her state. One of the perks of being the supreme was perfect health. Those mysterious marks don't match that. "I've tried to keep her out of all of this- I don't want her to get hurt." She knew you were more than capable of looking after yourself, but she still felt obligated to protect you from the world.

Myrtle brought up how painful it was to watch you swooning over her for years and it was nice to see that you get a break. The underlying threat that it will be cut short hung in the air but remained unsaid. Cordelia never having mentioned you two being together assumed she'd heard from one of the others.

Mallory interrupted them and told Cordelia that her two o'clock is here to see her.

You hadn't seen Cordelia much that day, having back to back classes, a doctor's appointment then marking once you got back. You'd worked through dinner, not realising what time it was until it was eight and your stomachs rumbling snapped you out of your concentrating state. You had one paper left on witch history. As much as you loved the history of Salem witches, you knew none of these girls cared enough to write a paper on it. There all here to improve their magic ability, history isn't going to help with that. You tossed the paper onto the rest deciding dinner was in order. Marking can be left until tomorrow.

You found a tupperware container full of left overs in the fridge. You scooped a helping of the pasta onto a plate before shoving it in the microwave. You felt two hands wrap around your waist. You chuckled and relaxed slightly.

"Missed you today baby," Cordelia said snuggling into your back. You told her you missed her back. You yawned. "Were you asleep?" she said referring to the robe you changed into when you got home from the doctors as well as your yawn.

"Had a doctor's appointment and had to mark after so I decided to get comfortable."

"Doctor's appointment? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it was a checkup. I needed to see if my medication was working. They're giving me a higher dosage."

"I don't remember you being on medication."

"I've been on them for years. Some problem with my blood. I can't remember the specifics on the top of my head." You changed the topic, the last making you uncomfortable. "You're being more cuddly than you usually are in public. What happened to keep it in the bedroom."

"That went out the window when they heard us having sex."

"You have to admit you enjoyed it."

"I did," Cordelia admitted. "You could say, I owe you."

"Not tonight. I'm worn out. I'm going to go to bed after dinner."

"I might have to finish off my work early so I can have a cuddle session before bed."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I'll see you soon."

"See you soon."

Cordelia ran off to complete any work she had remained so she could spent her night with you.

You finished your meal and headed up your bedroom. You yawned as you entered the room. The ground felt muddy. Your eyes snapped open. You stood frozen in a forest of trees. A lone gas station stood with a mile of road on either side. "What the fuck-" you rubbed your eyes. This couldn't be real. A man stood there pumping gas into his car, nothing out of the ordinary. You reached for your pocket. You had none. You're in a robe. Outside. With nothing underneath. This hasn't happened before and hopefully never again.

You shouldn't be here, how did you get here? No level of teleportation would have gotten you this far without harm, this place wasn't near the school.

You step forwards to make your way towards the gas station. Maybe he could help you, tell you where you were so you could call Cordelia and explain what happened. A glove hand slipped over your mouth, another around your waist. You were tugged towards a body. You thrashed about trying to escape when the person spoke.

"I'm not going to hurt you Y/N." You said something but it was muffled by the hand. "I'll let you go in a second but you need to see something first."

Another car pulled up and a woman stepped out. The two interacted before the woman ended up cutting his Achille's heel. He collapsed onto the ground and she slit his throat as well. To finish him off she poured gasoline on him and set him on fire. The woman pulled away in her own car. You watched as the man's flesh, burnt to dust. You screamed, cried out watching the scene unfold. You were helpless to do anything but watch on in horror.

"That man's name was John Henry Moore. He taught at the Warlock school, you know the one. He was going to rat out his brother warlocks for treason. His key's are unharmed by the fire. You have one of two choices, drive back to the school and tell your precious supreme that a warlock was murdered and have to explain why you were out here in the middle of the night or you could drive away, dump the car and not tell a soul." Both hands let go of you.

"Why did you make me watch that? Who are you?"

You spun around but no one was there. You decided to test what the person said was true. You crouch by the pile of ash. John Henry Moore, you never heard of him. That wasn't surprising, he taught at a warlock school. You weren't familiar with too many, you were always taught you were superior to them so you never bothered to look into them. You hovered your hand above the ashes, concentrating on who they used to belong to. Come on Y/N, you can do it, you repeated in your head. You took a deep breath in and out.

Information filled your mind along with snippets of the man's face. The person was right.

You snatched the keys from the pile of ash and hopped into the car. What were you doing? You can't steal a dead man's car. He isn't going to need it, you reasoned. You start up the car, listening to it rev. The camera's, they would have seen you hop into the car. With a flick of the wrist you erase any record of you being here before speeding away. You didn't know what to do. How were you meant to explain why you were in the middle of nowhere. You didn't even know where you were going.

"Where did you go so late?" Cordelia asked as you stumbled through the front door.

"Grocery store."

"In your robe?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get there? The van's still parked-"

"You ask too many questions," you snapped. She was taken aback. "I've been through hell today. Can we just leave it there?" You didn't give her a second to respond before you headed towards the back of the school. She followed you, stopping when you did. Your back faced her.

You'd changed energies since you entered the academy. You were no longer the sweet and tired woman she was planning on spending her night with. Now you were agitated. You rarely found a reason to snap at her, she worried something happened to you. She let your behaviour slide, not wanting to push you any further and cause a scene at one thirty in the morning.

"We have a new student, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. I put her in your class and organised a one on one with you and her today to get her comfortable being here."

You hummed fiddling with a pack of cigarettes you picked up along the way. You never smoked before in your life but the urge was all too tempting tonight. "Hmm~" you hummed, your mouth around the stick of death that was between your lips. Your hands fumbled about for the lighter you bought. Seemingly misplacing it, you groaned.

"I'm glad you're safe," Cordelia mused. "When you disappeared after you said you were going to bed, I worried." When you wouldn't pay her any attention, more focused on what you were doing she circled you. "What are you- Where did you get those?" She tried to take the cigarettes away from you but you moved away. "You don't smoke- how? Why?"

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," you said around your unlit cigarette, stepping outside and shutting the door with your powers.

You sat there until the sun rose. The birds chirping sounded like ringing in your ears. Visions of the man burning was all you could see. The hand around your waist and mouth, holding you in place. The helplessness you felt. What kind of witch were you? You had the chance to tell Cordelia where you were, what you say and you decided against it? Who were you? Not yourself.

Your robe slipped off your shoulders revealing your back to the cold day and showcasing your white ink tattoo of angel wings. You got paid 50 bucks to do it back in the day, now it's just scarring of the tattoo you once got.

You were on your third cigarette. You took another puff, missing the sound of the back door opening under the screams in your mind. A tap on your shoulder sent you zapping elsewhere. Landing on the other side of the garden, you quickly adjusted your robe, covering up your back and naked front. Your robe must have untied itself during the night. You dropped your cigarette butt stumping it out with your bare foot.

"Mal? What are you doing up so late?"

"It's 9 in the morning," she notified you. "Cordelia told me to talk to you after you didn't head up this morning."

"I told her I was going to sleep on the couch," she probably assumed the one in her room. Mallory walked up to you sitting down beside where you teleported to. "We don't need a mediator-"

"Go and talk to her. Assure her that there is nothing to worry about. She spent the couple hours you were missing tearing the place to shreds." You chuckled at the last bit. "She also wanted me to remind you, you had that class with Coco."

"Who?"

"The new student."

"Crap, yeah. When's that start?"

"Three minutes ago."

"Shit- you distract the girl, I'll quickly freshen up."

She nodded. You grabbed your belongings before teleporting upstairs to clean yourself up. You scrambled through your belongings looking for something quick to change into. You opted for a long maxi floral dress with your platform boots. You douse yourself in perfume before sprinting downstairs. You ran past Cordelia on her way to her office, she went to speak when you said, "Meeting late." and continued on your way.

You found Mallory sitting alongside another girl. You apologised for your tardiness, and greeted the girl with a handshake.

"Your hands are cold," she commented.

"I'm well aware. So as you're aware I'm meant to so you the ropes. If you are scared, it's normal."

You dreaded the time your class your one on one would end but when it did, you were happy that the new student was at least a little more comfortable being here. She reminded you of yourself when younger. No you weren't rich, you were scared of being in a place you didn't belong and not wanting to waste the teachers time. Any witch no matter how little their powers are deserved to be here.

Once you were done you were requested to go to your girlfriends office. You didn't bother knocking as she expected you. The door squeaked, "Your door needs some oil," you commented.

"I'll make sure someone does that later-"

"Oh, I can do it. It's no problem. I'll do it now-" You deflected.

"Leave the door. It's not important." Cordelia rose from her desk chair and moved to the set of chairs in front of her desk.She chose to do this to show you were not in trouble and to remove the desk from between the both of you. You'd both use it as a barrier to hide behind. She gestured you to take the other chair. You slowly shuffled to your designated spot, your platforms scraping across the floor. Normally you would have earned a look of disapprove from your girlfriend for ruining the school's flooring. Today was different, her pet peeves were tossed out the window, replaced with an emotion you had yet to determined.

She didn't speak until you were settled in your chair. Your eyes floated everywhere never focusing on one place and definitely not on her. She realised she wasn't going to get your undivided attention, it was for the best, you never made eye contact when you were in a stressful situation. The woman allowed you to get away with pushing her away far too long. She'd let you escape from her for years during her marriage or the nights back in high school were she'd gotten a smidgen to close. She saw why now, it was as clear as day. You'd pushed her away to save yourself heartbreak. It took her until she had the sight to figure out she was being cheated on and still she couldn't figure out how strong your feelings where for her. You were pushing her away again but this time she couldn't understand why, it wasn't like the last time you did so, you haven't left her yet. It was similar to moments in high school were she was getting a little experimental, bi-curious even, but you weren't having it. You didn't want to be second, you wanted the gold. Had you figured out her secret, that her days were numbered. You'd seen the markings. You could be bracing yourself for the pain, cutting off the ties before they were snapped from you. Self induced pain was easier to deal with.

"How did the session with Coco go?" It was best to ease into the conversation, make it seem normal, Cordelia thought. You both knew it was coming so there was no point in delaying the inevitable but scaring you off wasn't the end goal.

"The Vanderbilt girl is super nice. Is Vanderbilt or Pierre a better nickname? Pierre is a masculine name and she isn't very- Vanderbilt it is." You rambled on. "I think I did a pretty good job at convincing her she belongs here."

"I knew you'd be the perfect one for that."

"Yeah~"

"I want to talk about last night-" you went to interrupt but you were silenced. "I know you don't want to talk about it but that's what couples do, they communicate so we can move past it."

You nodded, your focus now stilled on the left leg of Cordelia's chair. There was a paper clip resting next to it, bent slightly out of shape. You wanted to pick it up and put it with the rest or at least fiddle with it to distract your mind from what she was asking you to do. Talking was a chore, why would you need to talk, can't she just read your mind, or the energy you're radiating? Her idea wasn't a good one. Emotions are meant to be expressed outwardly and if not, they should remain to one's self.

"You said you were going to bed. You could have given me a heads up or texted me that you had to go out."

"I did head to bed." Your voice was small. Your hands fiddle with the light fabric of your attire. "I didn't plan on going out... It kind of happened."

"You going somewhere doesn't usually just happen. You have to actively seek out doing it."

"I-I teleported- I think. Whatever happened wasn't intentional."

"You teleported? Where?"

"I don't-" Should you tell the truth? "A park, an hour away. I went to the grocery store on the way back and picked up-"

"The cigarettes. You know what I'm going to ask you to do with them." You shook your head. She laid her hand out. You pulled them out of your clothes pocket and handed them over. "I don't want you to get addicted to these. They ruin lives and I love you too much to watch you waste it away on this." You nodded in recognition. "Did anything happen while you were out?"

You shook your head, "Nothing happened-"

"You transmutated far, are you sure you didn't get hurt?" You nodded. "Can I have a look over?"

"You just want an excuse to see me naked, don't you?"

"Always, but it is strange that you are developing new powers now or at least of that strength."

"Developing them now? Are you calling me old?" you joked.

"You're older than me." Yeah, you were. "What are you, like 905?"

"Hey! I'm not immortal."

"You could have convinced me otherwise."

"We both know that wouldn't be a good thing. We both know the story of Scáthach. "

"Are you talking about My Roanoke Nightmare? I thought you hated that show."

As much as Cordelia hated horror, you were a fanatic- not because you enjoyed the film, you loved critiquing it, ripping their use of the supernatural. You often referenced horror movies and how they were wrong in class or when casually talking to Cordelia. Then the show My Roanoke nightmare was popular, you'd binged watch it and won't shut up about the show for weeks. Cordelia knew everything about the show without seeing it. She eventually did, so she could better understand what was irritating you so much.

"I do, but Audrey Tindall is hot."

"I hope neither of us ever met her." The both of you chuckled.

"No, but seriously. She's real or at least what they say about her is. She gained immortality from ancient gods. We both know you don't make deals with ancient gods, we teach that as part of the curriculum. You don't accept gifts from deities and all that jazz. It's witchcraft 101. All I know is if I had a choice between being normal and being immortal, i'd choose normally any day. Hell I'd probably give it up. Imagine living a life where you couldn't get attached to people because you know that one day they are going to die and you'll be alone. You can met new people but you know that they are going to die too. It's a long circle of death until the world explodes or hell raises over maybe even after that. It would get lonely. Plus, I'd lose you and I couldn't handle that."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." At least not for now, not today, Cordelia thought.