#or when the thing my brain has decided to gnaw on is Upsetting; and not in a way that's worth tackling to Process It at the moment

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

man. honestly, i think it says something about the eternal question of whether my baseline thinking is supposed to be on the slower/stiller end, or if that being the case means something's Off, that my brain can in fact be going a mile a minute thinking hard about something and yet that still counts as elevator music to me the moment i turn part of my attention to something else

[im-a-writer--im-in-distress]

Rules (#1 & #3)

Insert with: Ruhn Danaan

Reader: Female (she/her)

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Words: A lot. (3500+)

About: Ruhn’s girlfriend has been faking orgasms…

Warning(s): SMUT (MINORS DNI); explicit sex discussion, oral (f-receiving), talk to your partners, peeps!

A/N: Day Three of Ruhn Week 2024! The prompt is "Chapter 3". @ruhnweek New stories all week! I recently stumbled onto this side of Reddit and decided to give them some love.

Well, there’s no way he was going in there now. Ruhn had just returned from his evening run, looking forward to a relaxing night with you. But when he’d arrived, he immediately heard your upset voice and Bryce in there with you. Her words had stopped him from bolting in there:

“Why would you keep that from him? Ruhn would want to know.”

And your response. "You can’t tell him, okay? He’ll think it’s his fault."

Ruhn pressed himself flat against the wall so that he could hear you clearly, the only two voices in the apartment.

“The last thing I want to think about is my brother in bed,” Bryce shivered at the ick of this conversation. “But if he’s doing a shitty job at sex, it is his fault.”

His brain short-circuited.

“He’s wonderful,” you said, emotions thick in your voice like you were close to crying. “He’s amazing. I don’t deserve him—”

“And yet you’re the one faking orgasms.”

The words slammed into Ruhn’s gut as his brain failed to catch up. Echoes of your sounds came back to him, part of him now trying to pick out which ones were real and which were fake. How long had you been faking it? Recently? Always?

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and if the door hadn’t burst open at that exact second, he would’ve landed on the floor. Instead, as it happened, he was launched from his hiding place as Flynn and Dec burst into the house hauling a keg.

“We’re here for the party,” they chanted, and a small wave of people came in behind them.

“Get out. I canceled that,” Bryce barked, getting up from the couch. Leaving you sitting alone on it with your eyes pinned to the floor.

His first instinct was to confront you, to demand an explanation. But another part of him hesitated. Did he even want to hear any more? He felt a lump forming in his throat, a wave of self-doubt crashing over him. A bunch of other emotions filled the gaps. Why would you do that? As you continued to avoid his gaze yet kept trying to make yourself smaller under the weight of it, a thread of anger sewed into his skin.

Music kicked on and, despite Bryce’s best attempts, the party was on. With a loud sigh, Bryce crossed towards Aurora and yanked her to her feet. Pulling her with her, the annoyed redhead snatched her brother’s wrist in the other hand and pushed them both towards the bedroom. "And you two," she said, "are going to sort this out."

Bryce locked the door behind them. Ruhn grasped the rattly doorknob, and Bryce punched the door on the other side in protest. She shouted through the door. “Stay in there until you two have fixed this. Fucking cowards.”

Even though Bryce had stomped away and therefore they could escape, Ruhn remained frozen with his hand on the doorknob. The weight of Bryce's disappointment pressed down on him. She was right. He was avoiding a conversation that needed to happen. What the hell could he say, though?

"I'm sorry you overheard that."

Ruhn's heart twisted at Aurora's words. He couldn't help but feel betrayed. Why would she keep something like this from him? The self-doubt gnawing at him left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Why?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Your voice was barely a whisper. "Because… I didn’t want you to know."

Confusion struck him, and he turned around, long hair spreading like a shadow between them. He tried to wrap his mind around your confession, but the pieces just didn't fit together. How could you fake something so intimate? And now you act like this?

“You think I didn’t have a right to know?” Another thought struck him. “Or could I just not do it for you?”

“No, it’s not like that,” you started.

“No? You thought you’d just what? Make fun of me?”

“No.”

“Then what?” He couldn’t help it. The anger inside was growing and it seeped into his words. “You stayed with me because you wanted to be the Autumn Queen?”

“Ruhn—”

“Wow, Y/N. Wow. Well done. You had me completely going. I totally fell for it.”

He turned away. She grabbed his hand, but he shoved her off. “Back off, Y/N.”

That did it. Now she was mad. “Oh, fine. Just stomp off like a child. Don’t even try to talk to me.”

“Like you did?” he snapped, whirling on her.

Something crossed over her eyes, and the anger cut in half. “I should’ve told you the truth. Bryce helped me see that.”

“Bryce,” Ruhn scoffed. If you couldn’t even come to him with a problem, what the hell were you two even doing? “How long?”

You furrowed your brows.

“We’ve been together nine months. We’ve been sleeping together for six. How long have you been faking it?”

“I never faked our relationship.”

“Just our sex life.”

“No,” you said. “Just my orgasms. Everything else is real.”

“That’s kind of a big part of it,” he said, anger still laced tight in his skin.

“I don’t think so.”

Ruhn looked wide-eyed at you, the hurt cutting deep. “Right. Got it.”

He grabbed the doorknob again, cracking it sideways to break the lock.

“I can’t orgasm.”

Ruhn stood there for a minute, unable to process the statement. It was an odd way to phrase it. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

There were tears in her eyes, and Ruhn’s heart twisted. He immediately regretted looking back at her. He was almost out, almost free of potentially the most toxic relationship he’d ever been in. And then he saw her cry.

“I faked them because I can’t. I’ve never been able to. Not with you, not with anybody.” She drew in a fractured breath. “But I knew if I told you, you’d think it was your fault. That you weren’t good enough, or some ridiculousness like that.”

She took a step towards him, then lost her nerve and stopped. “I faked the orgasms so that you knew how I truly felt about us.”

“That you didn’t trust me,” Ruhn supplied. “Good to know.”

“No,” she said, a new wave of bravery locking her Y/E/C eyes into his. “You are perfect, Ruhn Danaan. You are everything I could ever want. You are kind and generous, with your love and with your time. You make me feel beautiful. And treasured. And I am so sorry that all of this has made you feel less than that, because that was never my intention. I was trying to spare your feelings, not hurt them.”

Anger seeped out of him like sand from a broken hourglass. But the hurt ran deep.

“You could have told me I don’t satisfy you.”

“But you do, you dumb, dumb male!” She cried, fisting her hair. “That’s the point. You satisfy me in every way that matters. Who cares if I can’t orgasm? I don’t. I have you. I am filled to the brim with you, and that’s all I need.”

You said you didn’t care, but you did. He could tell.

Ruhn sighed, a deeper emotion crawling up to the surface. "What bothers me is that you didn't even give us a chance to work together to fix it. You could have trusted me, Y/N. You could have told me."

Your heart clenched as his words hit you like a dagger to the chest. You could see the hurt and confusion etched on his face, and it tore at your soul.

"You’re right. I'm sorry," you whispered. "I should have told you.”

With his anger gone, Ruhn didn’t know where to go from here. You kept your gaze and your hands to yourself, like you expected him to walk off. He still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t.

But as the air hung between you like a chasm, he felt the need to at least clear the air. “Tell me now.”

Your eyes shot up to him in surprise, and then a blush broke out across your cheeks. You wrung your hands.

Ruhn reached over and took your hands, guiding you both to sit down on the end of the bed. You were stiff and so was he, but you deserved at least a chance to make this right. Especially after he’d reacted so poorly.

But after a long, awkward moment, the only thing you said was “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Well,” Ruhn swallowed, “tell me what you do like. What works when you touch yourself?”

You glanced up at him shyly before lowering your head. You’d retracted your hands from him when you sat down, and you were back to wringing them. “Um, not much. I mean, I have toys, but all they’re good for is overstimulating me.”

“Am I too rough with you? Is that why you aren’t finishing?

You met his eyes, this time shyness gone. It takes his breath away. Then, you sighed, muttering, “You’re still not understanding.”

“Then, tell me.”

At first, he wasn't sure you would. “It’s not that I don’t finish. It has nothing to do with you. It’s that I never have. I guess, there’s a population of us that have weak muscles down there. We get overstimulated way before we release.” You shifted on the bed, subconsciously putting distance between him and you. “It’s just something that happens. It has nothing to do with you.”

You said it twice, and you believed it. But he didn’t.

Another thought struck him, though. How often had he come undone in your hands, under your mouth? He had commented more than once on how talented you were in bed. Was that you overcompensating for what you clearly saw as a shortcoming? He tried not to think about the other males you had practiced on.

Which only left room for a wave of guilt to crash on him. You drew his release out of him like no one else ever had. Your touch riled him up like electricity on his skin, your kiss fire in his veins. He’d always been a sexual male, and she had never disappointed. But how cruel he had been, unraveling when she couldn’t.

“Don’t do that,” you snapped, poking him in the chest. “Don’t you feel guilty.”

You had moved closer, your E/C eyes piercing into his soul. You were so close he could feel your breath on his skin, and his body reacted accordingly. He tried to shove it down.

“Watching you…” You let out a loaded breath. “Watching you is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Fuck. Now was not the time to get turned on by her.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I want to satisfy you.”

“You do,” you said, your hand tracing up to his jaw. He swallowed.

But the insecurity was there under his skin, too. “No, I don’t. If you’re faking it, I don’t.”

“I told you already.” Your other hand tracked his tattoos and electricity lit up the nerves. “I only faked the end. Nothing else. Everything else is real. More so than it ever has been.”

Your eyes twinkled. “Before you, I didn’t even understand why it was fun. Sex. It was nothing to me.”

He pulled her arm down. “I shouldn’t touch you if it doesn’t feel good.”

“You taught me what it’s supposed to feel like. You taught me what it was to make love.” You cupped his face in both your hands. "With you, it's magic."

There were no words he could say to that. None that got even close to the feeling you had given him. All he had was a new resolve.

He swallowed, preparing for his own question. "What did previous males do to you?"

You pulled away in surprise, then eyed him. "You don't want to hear about that."

You were right. He didn’t, but… "If it helps you get off, I want to know."

He saw the arousal flash across your eyes, and it was nearly the end of him. But this was more important.

“Don’t bother. You’re better.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his lips. “Alright, what do you like that I do?”

You smiled under the question, looking away. Then, you said, mood dipped, “I won’t ‘get off’. You shouldn’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

"You want it."

"But I shouldn't!" You cried, the sudden change rippling through the air. "You do satisfy me. You treat me well, you’re gentle, you’re being so sweet about this! How terrible am I to want more?"

Ruhn pulled your hands from your face. "You are a grown, powerful, sexual female. Of course, you want it. You SHOULD want it." You looked like you were about to cry. Like, you were about to break in his arms. "You say you can't orgasm. I say, you can learn. I'm going to help you."

“Ruhn—"

“We're gonna work on it. Because you deserve it. But—" he leveled his eyes with hers as his hand guided up her chin. "—no more faking. Every move you make, every sound that escapes, they have to be real, okay? I have to be able to trust you."

You didn’t have any faith in this plan of his. But you nodded. "No more faking. I promise."

“And you can’t go sabotaging this just because you think it won’t happen,” he added.

It took a minute for you to answer. “So… we’re okay?”

Ruhn released a breath, his hands finding their places on your skin. “Yeah,” he said, leaning in to kiss your temple. “We’re okay.”

You pressed your lips to his, and Ruhn slowed it to a lingering kiss. It was tender, but your whole body reacted like his lips pulled your very soul from your body. Whether it was in arousal or relief he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The knowledge that at least this had always been authentic was enough to balm the remaining threads of betrayal.

You pulled away. "And you," you said, your finger back to poking at his collarbone. "You cannot take any lack of orgasm as failure on your part. Because I know you. You'll think it's you, and it's not. It never was."

Your words struck a chord in him. You were right, even if he was only just realizing it. Your confession had made him insecure, and he questioned your relationship rather than listening to you.

He slipped a hand into your hair and pulled your lips back to his. It's slow and deep, a coaxing of each other's tongues and mouths, as if for the first time. But it wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the fiftieth time. Ruhn had never enjoyed kissing a female as much as he did you. In previous relationships, he had always preferred other activities for his tongue. But with you— Kissing you lit up his soul, like a spark of starlight just from the touch of your lips. Your kiss was just as intimate and erotic as anything else. You swelled in his arms, like a balloon he was breathing air into, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself into him, fingers tracing through his long hair. It felt amazing.

Ruhn's own hands trailed along your body, feeling you react to his touch. He pulled you onto his lap, which you did with no fuss, pulling his lip ring into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in Ruhn's chest. You smiled against him. "I love your sounds."

"I want to hear yours," Ruhn said at your ear. His teeth trailed down the tender skin of your neck, and a heated breath escaped from your lips. He nipped. "You can do better than that.”

Your teeth came down hard on his shoulder, and Ruhn hissed, his hands digging into the flesh at your waist. You usually didn't bite until later on in the process. It made him happy. It was a sign you were just as turned on as he was.

He pulled back from your kiss, trailing his thumb across your lips as a breath shuddered across it. He caught your eye. "We didn't say this earlier, but I think it should be another rule: We tell each other the truth. Always. I'll go first:" he added, hopefully taking the danger out of the request. "I like it most when I get to taste you."

Your eyes grew wide at his confession, a sharp rise-and-fall of your chest spurring him on. "I love the feeling of you around my tongue, and I love the sounds you make when I go down on you."

He held your gaze, patiently awaiting your response.

It was a long wait. Red in the face, you found your words. "I like that, too. But I like it best when you're under me."

Ruhn's dick twitched at the thought. You liked riding his face the best? Fuck, you were created just for him.

Ruhn removed you from his hips and settled towards the head of the bed, while you discarded your underwear. He motioned for you, and you draped a leg across his face. The skirt of your dress settled around him. You lowered yourself onto Ruhn's awaiting lips, and his first movement was a long stripe of his tongue along your folds. You released a vocal sigh, and Ruhn traced his lip along your clit with a smile. His girl had always required extra work up to get vocal. Now he knew why.

He breathed in your scent, lapping at the wetness already heating your skin. Your hips rolled downwards, and his arms locked onto your thighs. One of your hands laced fingers with his. He growled against your core, and you whined softly at the sensation.

Ruhn took note. This was no longer about physical gratification; it was an experiment. Ruhn wanted to know exactly what he could do that would make you unravel. Every touch was to gauge your response. Now that you were being honest about how he made you feel, he wanted to know exactly how you would respond to his best work: his tongue stroking the length of you folds (breathy inhales and her hand squeezing his), his tongue penetrating her (inner walls clenching and rolled hips), his lip-ring against her clit (twitches and cries), him sucking on her clit with and without his fingers pressed inside of her (grinding down on him). He tried it all, and he stored away the information. The longer he worked you, the wetter you became. Which was impressive anyway, because you were already turned on when you first sat down on him.

At a particularly sharp suck on your clit, your entire body reacted, back arching as a fragmented moan escaped. Good to know. He ran his lip ring over the bud again, and you squirmed against him. His strong arms held your thighs tightly to him. You always had been wriggly. "R-Ruhn."

His name fell from your lips in fractured speak, and his dick twitched against his jeans. Hearing his name on your tongue like this was enough to drive him mad. He rolled that spot with his fingertips as his tongue dipped inside. Those inner walls were tight around his tongue, and Ruhn moaned, the vibration sending a shiver up your spine. You pulled against his hold again.

'Talk to me', Ruhn said into your mind, moaning again and the vibrations climbed upwards.

It worked like a charm. "Ruhn, you have to… stop with the clit."

Your words were nearly a plea, and you resisted his touch again. Ruhn released one of your thighs to give you space. Your hips lifted off of his lips a little, and he took the chance to slide two fingers inside. The soft moan that fell from you was everything.

His fingers pressed against your inner walls, and he was thrilled when you rutted against him. You were really trying to be honest with him. His heart swelled, and he kissed your core. His fingers curved in rhythm against that inner spot. Your hips rolled against his fingers, searching for the pressure, and all at once, Ruhn could feel your desperation. Your body knew you were close, even if you didn’t. You'd told him to back off, but you were right there. He could get you there.

Ruhn pressed a flat tongue across your clit, the pressure ripping a loud cry from your lips. That was new. Ruhn’s soul ate it up.

He did it again, needing to hear the sound again, pressing against the sensitive bud at the same time his fingers thrummed against your inner palette. You were swollen and ready. You just needed a little bit more. He sucked on your clit again, and you ripped yourself off of him, sprawling next to him on the bed.

He turned quickly. "Don't get excited," you said, eyes squeezed closed. "I'm just overstimulated."

Ruhn couldn't help it. Disappointment flooded over him.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Stop,” he said, his hand on your cheek as he kissed your forehead.

You were nearly too soft to hear. “I tried to hold on.”

"I know you did," he reassured. "And you were incredible. We'll get there." His eyes locked onto yours.

You weren’t so sure, but he was. And the taste of yourself on his lips was enough.

[fostersffff]

*sidles over* so.....heard you got upset over ZTD......I'm something of a ZTD hater myself....idk if you have the mental RAM to really get into it rn considering your current projects but I'd love to hear you complain about it at length

So, granted, it's been... seven years (!!!) since I played it, so I don't remember every minor detail, but I can absolutely talk at length about The Fucking Stupid Thing That Fucking Sucks And Makes (Almost) Everything Bad In Retrospect

(big dumb spoilers for ZTD beneath the break)

Of the (admittedly few) VNs I've read, nothing has deflated me harder than getting to the Transporter Room. 999 did a really good job of building up to the idea of morphogenetic fields, and VLR then took that concept and slowly ramped up the "power level" with shifting, so the player could accept greater feats of psuedoscientific nonsense. But that was the universe, and the suspension of disbelief held.

Then, in a single fucking gameplay segment, Uchikoshi went "oh yeah ayylmaos are real and they left an Actual Time Machine that works in the exact specific way that I need for the plot to happen the way I want it to". It cheapened basically everything else that happened afterwards, too! Like, Sigma and Diana realizing Phi is their daughter should be an emotional megaton, and it felt like that at the time, but there something gnawing at me that has since widened out into a cavern because the way they got there was so unbelievably convoluted and unearned.

Delta also sucks in a way that is... kind of what I was expecting? Living up to the hype from VLR was always going to be a long-shot, but then he actually gets lamer as time goes on. On the subject of "shit not being introduced", he gets a set of powers that is effectively parallel to shifting called MIND HACKING because there's literally no other way that he could manipulate the events of the game into happening the way they needed to, so he just got a set of powers that could manipulate the events of the game into happening the way he needed to.

Another thing that jumps out at me is that 80% of how Mira was handled was actually Really Fucking Good, but the last 20% sucks so hard it, again, almost invalidates all of it. Smoking hot uninterested super babe dating The Biggest Loser On Earth who seems (to the player) like she's just there to have big titties for the player to look at is then revealed to be a violent serial killer who can only feel when she's murdering, which is the actual reason she's so uninterested and "dating" the loser is so she can murder him later. But then it turns out (checking the wiki real quick to refresh my memory) that one of her first victims was the loser's mom, which actually tied into everything else that ever happened in the series. And then they have the audacity to throw in the happy epilogue where they're like "BABE WE'RE MARRIED NOW AND WE'RE GONNA GO USE THE (fucking) AYYLMAO TRANSPORTER TO CURE YOU OF YOUR BRAIN PROBLEMS". Not everyone needs to have a happily ever after ending!

Carlos sucks too, but in a benign way for the most part? Like, he's there because they needed three people on a team, and he's a Main Character Man, and that's about it. It's very funny that the Grand Finale is him pointing a gun at Delta, like this has been his story all along, when it should probably be Akane beating him to death.

Also, the last and most obvious thing, the "style" of ZTD was always an annoying point, because even though the character artwork is gorgeous, they instead decided that they had to use some of the stiffest looking 3D models "to appeal to Americans" or something (even though the American fanbase evidently was cool with character portraits considering they bought 999 and VLR in the first place), made worse by the fact that it's originally a 3DS game, so even uprezzing doesn't help all that much.

I think that's all I can remember, but seriously: more than anything else, fuck that Ayylmao Transporter.

[94erz]

Now my brain is going even more crazy thinking about Joon and it was already pretty bad earlier ‘cause I just miss seeing him. But now I’m upset ‘cause of all this and the letter from a few days ago and also recent interviews putting so much pressure on him. Plus FESTA just gnawing at the back of my head still because fuck I hate that video so much and I hate the fallout from it and how I couldn’t stop thinking about how he cried and how he’s feeling and how even the few people who might understand him the most are probably not doing much better than he is and might not even be the greatest source of support right now...

Uuuuuuhg, and I hate how some people think this is just about the success of the album like please it’s not JUST about Indigo’s numbers he wouldn’t be posting all its records if he wasn’t proud of what it’s accomplishing it’s all so much bigger than that. I think people don’t realize just how much of his issues are literally tied to the group, not the members, but BTS and what it is. I think people tend to forget he’s heavily invested in its success because he’s sunk just about everything about his life the last 10 years into it, and that’s got to be unbearably stressful when he’s currently incredibly lost on what’s even going to happen to the group, what BTS’ future is, because WE don’t even know WHAT it is. Like they have plans for 2025, but nothing is set in stone. 

Plus it’s very clear each person now has different desires and expectations. Like I was gonna make a whole post about Hoseok and being solo and his absolute ITCH to get out and go and what that could mean long-term but decided against it ‘cause it’s one of those taboos that I didn’t potentially wanna get any backlash for. I mean they all love each other as friends and now a family, but do they all still love the system? The structure of BTS? Are they all satisfied artistically? Couple that with things Jin said in his interviews and vlives before leaving and it all just seems like things are not as solid as people might think they are...

Who knows. I’ll stop rambling about it for now.

[tipsygnostalgy]

EXCELLENT ADDITION. I'm going proper syntax mode as well.

I think this touches neatly on something I personally didn't incorporate into my essay—Jake's manipulation, which falls pretty neatly in-line with Ult. Jake later doing the same thing. The rather upsetting thing is, I'm not sure if I agree, at least not with Jake in canon.

For me, the angle I take with Jake is less 'smart as fuck manipulative genius' and more 'intuitive but uncertainty scares him so he ignores it.' I see the Jane confession (the disaster of a confession, 0/10, it's so perfect) cited as evidence pretty often for him having manipulated the situation, but I can't really see it. There's sections where he self-deprecates, and there's sections where he's being a complete fucking idiot, but it doesn't read as manipulation to me. I don't know, maybe I'm not looking close enough? Sure, pressuring someone into confessing whether they like you or not this directly would cause them to typically respond no, but does he know that? Does he recognize it? Or am I being gaslit by the funny pseudo-British man into believing what he wants me to believe? Half the fight here is deciding what sections to read into and discard, so I'm very much open to other evidence which I'm sure is out there.

Otherwise, I agree with my whole heart. Whether his behavior is "consciously" intentional or not, Jake still plays a rather active role in the situation at hand, albeit most of the time either accidentally or by proxy to the larger plot (assuming my point above is true, that is). And later, when he goes Ultimate, he'll start taking full responsibility for his manipulations by having them succeed or fail by virtue of Ult. Dirk.

Oh, and all the Alpha kids not being able to give the more emotional aspect of their aspect to themselves and suffering as a result is both based and unbelievably tragic. In line with popular opinion, I think Roxy being the one to rise above it (at least temporarily, considering [shudder] Trickster Mode) is perfect since I associate alcoholism with a lack of knowledge in Homestuck (Mom Lalonde's drinking problems causing her to emotionally neglect Rose, Rose's drinking problems causing her to forget dates and details, Terezi being entirely blindfolded and unconscious when engaging with soporifics), which in other words is a void of knowledge. For the Rogue of Void to steal that lack from herself is pretty satisfying and why I adore her as much as I do. The post-Trickster scene is incredible to me in the sense that they've just gone from a Complete High to what's now a Complete Low, full of regret and guilt and self-avoidance, and yet they talk to each other—over text. When they're sitting right next to each other. Because maybe things were better between them before all this happened.

Wow, that's emotional shit. Anyway, digressing back to more analysis territory, here's a fun idea I keep bouncing around. I can understand how Jake/Roxy/Dirk would end up the way they are, because growing up completely alone for sixteen years does that to a child. But what about Jane? Is it the canonical existence of the Condesce? Is it just her natural skepticism? Has the years of neuroticism displayed by the rest of her friends shifted her around? Of course there's her tendency to think she Knows Better and all, but why? It's a piece that doesn't fit smoothly in my brain, I wish self-lobotomies were invented way earlier.

Thank you again for this piece to gnaw on and I just know your essay's going to drive me insane. :3 <3

in writing my response to @tipsygnostalgy's most recent dirkjake essay post, i accidentally wrote my own mini-essay. here's a little sneak peak since i dunno if i'll be able to finish this one tonight:

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Dirk says to Jane during their conversation post-Tricksters (A6A5A1x2:5830):

TT: We were all designated for a session that was utterly inert. TT: A place where the mechanisms for success never even existed to begin with. TT: In such a place it makes sense that the formal leader would be neutralized, to made feel unempowered and static. TT: And it seems particularly fitting she would be the noble of life in a realm of the dead. TT: A realm that foretold of a life player who felt lifeless, a hope player who felt hopeless, and a heart player who was just a stone cold motherfucker.

I feel like this conversation gets misread a lot, particularly in that people will often ignore the fact that Dirk is clearly biased in terms of his praise/idolization of Roxy and disregard for/blatant hatred of himself. Because the thing is- Jake isn’t hopeless, if anything he’s fuckin overflowing with hope when it comes to believing in other people, it’s just that he completely lacks that same belief when it comes to himself. Act Omega really got that part right, imo, with the fact that Jake really does need the reassurance that other people (namely, Dirk) believe in him in order to be empowered to actually start being active. “Learned helplessness” is the idea that comes to mind for me, one of the key ways that Jake is put into the stereotypical “woman’s role” is in the fact that he feels like he can never be direct in getting what he wants. But actually, I think Jake is pretty active, he just does it in stupidly subtle ways so that he can avoid having to take responsibility for literally anything. That conversation with Jane, for example- he still manipulates Jane into friendzoning herself, therefore getting what he wants (Dirk), he just muddles the waters enough that he doesn’t have to take responsibility for hurting her by rejecting her.

I think Jane actually is thematically a good representative of the alphas, in the same way that John is for the betas (and really all kids, but Johnny is special cause he was #1), it’s just that you have to look at her class, not her aspect. Maids are typically understood as overflowing with their aspect, literally made of it, causing them to have a very close, personal relationship with it but also putting a strain on their relationship with others because of it. The word “maid” also brings to mind servitude to others, which is big for the Megidos & their history w/ Doc Scratch.

While Jane struggles a lot with giving (life) to others, I still think the Maid class really is relevant to all of the alphas, especially Dirk and Jake but also kinda Roxy. This is where I think Dirk is ever so slightly off in his interpretation of their session- it’s not that they’re lacking their aspect, they can’t stop giving it away in service of each other honestly, it’s that they can’t give the same help to themselves.

Jake fervently believes in his friends, he has to if he wants them to be real as you said above, and it’s ultimately all very selfish, but he cannot believe in himself to the point where he needs to create a fucking intricately detailed copy of his boyfriend to tell all of his thoughts to him before he can believe they’re true. Dirk is fucking overflowing with love for his friends, his introduction to the comic is making sure Jane is alright, he holds onto Roxy and seems to be almost as devastated as she is that he can’t love her the way that she wants him to, Jake, but he absolutely cannot give that same affection and sympathy to himself. Roxy holds the group together, yes, but I think it’s in a very different way than Karkat and his blood aspect- she is the confidant that everyone talks to and everyone can confide their secrets in (regardless of how well she keeps them- sorry Jane, lol), she is void in that she is the keeper of secrets but also in that, by getting people to communicate and giving them advice, she takes away the void/confusion and helps them see a better path. However she cannot hold her own secrets, doesn’t have anyone else to confide in in the way that she wants to (Dirk gets it but doesn’t love her that way, Jane doesn’t believe her, Jake) and passively aggressively lashes out because of it.

It’s their fundamental flaw and the motivation behind the lies in their introductions and their problems with miscommunication. They love each other so fucking dearly, care so agonizingly much about one another, but can’t deal with themselves, can barely even face a mirror. It's the void session: heart is locked off, hope is twisted into something strange, and life has already long-since ended. The reason why Roxy is able to rise above all that shit is because she chooses to engage with her own issues, to face her alcoholism and shitty behavior head on and Deal With It, in a way that the others simply aren’t.

[paige-creates]

Fake It 'Til You Make It (Guzma x GN!Reader One-Shot)

    This work was inspired by @kentoszn 's Haikyuu!! post which ignited some repressed trauma and feelings™. The piece was lovely, and I enjoyed it thoroughly, but it got my brain churnin', and I had to write smth. This is kind of a vent piece and the experiences mentioned (not all the mushy comfort shit, unfortunately) are very real things I've dealt with. This is 100% gender neutral, and the reader's genitalia isn't mentioned. TW: the reader does have a panic attack, but big bad Guzma is there to help! It gets a little ns/fw in like, two spots. Hurt/Comfort and it's a little cheesy at the end. Feel free to give this a kudos on Ao3, I'd love you 5ever <3

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

Something in your head, curling up and getting comfortable, tells you to hide in a corner. A sinking feeling in your chest that you want to go lay down and be still like an injured animal. All the while, Guzma pistons his hips into you with all his effort, love, and whole-hearted intentions to make you feel good. The thought that you’re wasting his affections and his time, all while moaning out but slowly losing grip on your sense of pleasure, has a guilty sickness washing over you. You do your best to ignore the overwhelming sense of dread that threatens to consume your good time almost entirely. You whine his name, rock your hips back into his with every thrust as best you can, his weight smothering you pleasantly and thick cock stuffing you full. You hold onto the now-fleeting notion of impending orgasm, focusing on his lips against your neck, but you know soon enough that your thoughts have all but turned that into a pipe dream. He’s been railing you thoroughly for an hour now, and in the beginning, you were thrilled; you’d been the one to initiate this in the first place. After subtle doubts had begun to consume you, you decided it was better not to ruin this. You were the one who had asked for it in the first place. You’d give him his fill; after all, he’s earned it with how attentive he’s been throughout the evening, and you could eventually fake your way out so as not to create an unpleasant or awkward circumstance. Then you could go back to curling up on the couch and finishing your movie night together as planned.

    When you felt his pace quicken, you threw your head back, whimpering his name and muttering “incoherently” about how close you were, throwing out a feverish moan as the finale of your show. You were confident in your acting. Though it had only happened occasionally, this wasn’t the first time you’d faked an orgasm to escape the gnawing in your gut. The times before, your plight had gone unnoticed. Whether it be a fling or an oblivious long-term partner, they kept on until they’d finished and then continued about their business. Guzma was different, though. Where some wouldn’t notice because they couldn’t tell (or just weren’t paying attention), Guzma was always looking for something in you—searching for confirmation that his efforts, in bed or your daily lives, were living up to your expectations. It was a necessity to him that you were getting enough from your time with him, that he wasn’t disappointing you somehow because he valued what the two of you have, and he had worked hard to make it this far with you. He was addicted to your happiness.

    It only took a minute before his pace slowed. You could see his expression, previously pinched with the pleasure of your heat and what Guzma had assumed was the build of mutual ecstasy, slowly fall away to something unreadable. There were flashes of different emotions on his face, each twisting your gut further into a knot. There was something akin to betrayal or confusion, then a flicker of insecurity. Eventually, he settled on a hurt sort of anger. Maybe because you’d essentially just lied to him, or because he was upset with himself somehow, you weren’t sure. Either way, he knew what you’d just done.

    While you wanted to appreciate him noticing and caring enough about you to be able to tell, you begin to wish he didn’t so you could get away from this situation and the consequences you feared it would bring. He stops, pulling out of you and giving you what feels like miles worth of space. No longer is his comforting weight settled over you; you lie there feeling exposed, waiting for what comes next. The tense growl of his voice in the quiet room jolts you out of your fearful thoughts, “Why would you- Just- Why? Did I do something?” Guzma’s voice softens by a fraction at the minute furrow of your brow, trying to calm himself and his own racing thoughts.

    This is the situation you were dreading. You asked for this, begged Guzma so sweetly while you were settled in his lap in the living room of your apartment to help you, that you needed him, wanted him to fill you up. Now, you were feeling guilty and anxious because your traitorous brain had sunken so deep into its thoughts that you changed your mind and couldn’t stuff your feelings back down and take it like the good, loving little pet you were. You soon caved to his unwavering expression of hurt, words spilling a-mile-a-minute in broken pleas. “No, no, no, you were good, you were so fucking good! I just got tired. My back cramped up a little, y’know? And-”

    “Stop.” Your lips seal shut at the command, your eyes wide and alert to every movement, waiting for anger or disappointment to wash over him before he finally leaves you there on your own to sulk. You can’t help the sting you feel in your chest, guilt eating you further with every passing second. Instead, one large warm palm rests against your cheek, keeping your gaze on him and your mind grounded in the current situation. “Take a deep breath, in ‘n out. Then try again. Don’t lie this time, yeah?”

    The burning in your throat suffocates you as you grasp helplessly for the right words to make the ill feelings disappear and bring back a peaceful atmosphere. The air constricts every time you open your mouth, and your first successful attempt to force out a sound is nothing more than a pained squeak. You choke on the pathetic noise. A sharp, panicked inhale is the only preamble to a hot tear rolling down your cheek before you feel an unpleasant heat roll over your shoulders, an uncomfortable itch up your spine that climbs the back of your neck. Instead of trying to explain, both hands quickly cover your mouth, stifling the first few sobs and turning your knuckles white from the harsh grip. No matter what you do to quell the onslaught of fear and uncertainty, it steamrolls you anyway. For a moment, Guzma is at a loss on what to do. He helplessly watches as your shoulders curl in and you duck your head to hide your weepy eyes. Before either of you know it, he’s scooped you up into his arms and you’re pressed tightly to his chest as warm hands rub circles into your back. Even if he doesn’t understand the whole situation, he’ll be there to help pick you up and put you together again.

    An eternity of soft shushing and repeats of, “I’m here, it’s okay,” eventually settle you enough to speak. You shakily draw in breaths of air; arms wrapped tightly around Guzma’s waist as your hands grip desperately to his shoulder blades, face hidden in the crook of his neck. Your voice cracks on the first word, so you clear your throat and try again.

    “You are so wonderful… I love everything you do for me, and you do so much,” Guzma’s arms squeeze around you in a comforting gesture at the words, but he stays quiet so you can finish. “I just felt kinda, I don’t know, off—no reason why. And I tried, I tried so goddamn hard to ignore it, but I couldn’t. Figured it’d be easier to play my part, take it and be good, make sure you were taken care of, y’know? Then I could ignore my feelings ‘til they went away and make myself feel better with cuddles and our movie ‘n all that.” You pause, getting your thoughts together to keep your heart from racing out of your chest again. “I started it, being all needy ‘n shit. I couldn’t just “nope” out halfway through, but I didn’t wanna tell you I wasn’t feeling it, so I just went along until I could deal with my dumb, sad brain on my own.”

    The sigh that escapes his lips is both affectionate and exasperated like he doesn’t know what to do with you, but he couldn’t possibly give you up. “Aight, you need to listen closely, and don’t you dare forget what ’m boutta say,” Guzma grabs your chin, bringing your head back enough to look him in the eyes. “You own your body. If ya change your mind about anything, say so. I have no right ta make a fuss, ain’t got no place to be tellin’ you ta get over it, nothin’.” He plants a forceful kiss on the crown of your head like he’s trying to press his feelings into you with a well-placed smooch. It’s enough to pull a laugh out of you.

    “I love you, stupid. Don’t think for even a moment that I’d rather have half-assed sex than to know you’re feelin’ alright. I don’t care if we’re goin’ all out on a holiday, ‘r if you blew me ‘n begged on your knees five minutes before. You’re mine, ‘n I’m supposed to take care of ya. Can’t do that if ya don’t tell me what you need. ‘n if that means stoppin’ and goin’ to get cocoa, cause you don’t feel safe or you ain’t in the right headspace, tha’s fine.” You feel a flurry of aggressive pecks to the top of your head before he pauses. “What made ya’ think like that in the first place?”

    You contemplate for a moment, recalling every unpleasant scenario that led to the plague of thoughts that brought you to this point. From a rebound one-night-stand that left you with twenty minutes of shitty sex, unfinished and unsatisfied, paired with a $180 hotel bill, to years of a relationship where you never felt desirable, and your partner really didn’t know what they were doing despite your attempts at communication, the list dragged on. You mumble out, ashamed of yourself for some reason and not of the list of fools you’d had the misfortune of being with earlier in life, “Bad sex, feeling unwanted, and being used as a glorified cum-dumpster, I guess.”

    You hear a disappointed ‘tsk’ at your comment, Guzma shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. “Letting you know now, I will absolutely fucking destroy anyone who’s ever made ya feel like that, ‘n I do want names. Also, they were idiots, if that wasn’t obvious enough already. Lucky for you, I got common sense.”

    “Most of the time.” The hand that ruffles your hair in retaliation holds nothing but love for you, and you smile despite eating a few tousled strands in the process.

    Guzma dramatically clears his throat before continuing, “Hush you, now lemme dote on ya for a minute.” His hands run along your skin slowly, like he’s appraising fine jewelry, and you feel a comfortable warmth settle in the confines of your chest as you hug him tighter. “I want you when ya wake up with a bird’s nest on your head in the mornin’, ‘n I want ya when your legs are all prickly ‘cause you haven’t shaved in three weeks. I want ya with your eye bags from pullin’ all-nighters and when you run around in the clothes ya stole from me. I wanna hear every goofy lil’ thing you say, and I never wanna miss the dumb baby voice you use when yer talkin’ to pokemon. I want all your time, day ‘n night, and every second between. So don’t ever hide your thoughts from me, ya hear?”

    Guzma’s only warning is a puppy-eyed pout before you launch your entangled forms backward to lay on his chest and smatter his face in kisses. For a while, you both lay there. A comfortable silence settles over the room while you enjoy the calm after the storm. What feels like hours amounts to roughly twenty minutes, but you both relish it either way. Eventually, you realize you’ve spent the better half of your night naked and sobbing, so you poke your loving boyfriend’s side. Guzma takes a moment to look at you consideringly, fond eyes roaming over your relaxed expression and wild hair before he seems to read your mind. “Wanna finish the movie ‘n order pizza? I want some TLC from my Cutiefly.” The slow, sweet kiss you give him is all the response he needs before Guzma slips on boxer briefs and a t-shirt. He pulls a discarded hoodie of his from your bedroom floor and tugs it over your raised arms, giving you a playful kiss when your head pops through the neck hole. Once you’re carried like royalty and seated in his lap on the living room couch, you press play on the remote and enjoy a relaxing evening, feeling much closer to Guzma than before.

[finniestoncrane]

So I have mobility issues due to an accident that left me with nerve damage and over the years my legs have been getting worse. Sometimes I get into this feeling of helplessness. Could you maybe do a scenario of Dano!Riddler comforting a long term partner in a similar position?

Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1.1k urgh ok i'm sorry about that situation with the accident, i don't have personal experience with nerve damage issues but i am watching someone close to me coping with something similar and every day is a new learning curve. i apologise if anything i write doesn't suit your exact situation or comes across as too positive or negative but i hope i did your request justice 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞cw for nsfw stuff: tiny little injury on poor eddie with some blood

"Patience. It's a virtue."

While Eddie’s words had long been a source of comfort to you, in the time you had known each other, been together, you had become aware that there were times when he could be abrupt. Speak without thinking. Offer solutions when all you wanted was to vent. He tried to stop it, listened to you when you told him what you wanted from him, but he was a problem solver. Puzzles, issues, they were problems to be solved. And quite often, your mood was the perceived problem, and Eddie’s words were his solution.

“Ok, I will patiently wait for you to explain yourself to me before I throw something hard at you.”

“That’s the spirit!” He beamed at you, pleased that you were feeling energetic enough to even pretend that you were willing to push past the low mood to exert yourself physically.

“Eddie.”

His smile faded, worried he had upset you, knowing he probably did. Guilt throbbed in your chest and in your stomach. He was just trying to help.

“Can I sit by you?” The earnest way in which he requested permission to get into the bed with you tugged at your heart, and you patted the space beside you, welcoming him in with a half-smile, unable to stop yourself. He scooted into the bed with you, enclosing you in one of his warm, generous hugs, chin resting on your shoulder as he pressed his body as close to yours as he could. For all that others might be put off by it, Eddie’s desperate need for closeness and physical touch was something that kept you feeling useful. You sank into him, feeling the heat, his soft body against yours, breathing close to your ear, fingers stroking the skin they lay closest to.

“I’m sorry if I don’t always say the right thing. You’ve seen my streams, I can ramble on and on, no one stops me. It’s an echo chamber in there.”

“Yes, I’m familiar.”

Given that your body was struggling with any physical exertion, you had been inside a lot more, almost every evening spent sitting, sometimes in pain, sometimes not, listening to Eddie preach about his big plans. It was admirable, he was admirable. Inspiring. Better off not having to worry about you, or carry you on his back as he tried to change the world. The thought sent you further into the spiral, obviously showing on your face as Eddie grew more concerned, big eyes sparkling as they stared at you from behind his smudged lenses.

“I just want to help you. I know it’s difficult, and I know I can’t truly understand. But I have seen my fair share of the worst the world has to offer, and I just…I want to give you…I want to tell you what helped me. Maybe that way my suffering will have been worth it.”

You were facing away from him, lying on your side, his arms wrapped around you. Warming to his unique brand of ‘help’ you wanted to let him continue speaking, but a question had been circling your brain since he first mentioned patience, and if you didn’t let it out, you’d worry about it forever, letting it gnaw away at what little happiness you could muster.

“You feel the need to be patient with me?”

Edward’s body tensed up, his fingers instinctively pressing into you, clinging to you in case you decided to get up and leave.

“No! Never! I w-would…never…well…maybe, but not like-”

“You’re digging a hole Edward, and it’s horrible enough that I might decide not to help you out of it.”

Straining to hold back tears at the idea that he woke up every morning, trying to renew his love for you, deciding whether your decreasing moods, your new daily struggles, his seemingly continuous inability to help you, was worth it, you pressed your eyes tightly together as he continued. Before he spoke, he took a deep breath, calming himself, trying not to make it any worse for himself or for you. Up until now, you had thought it might be projection, that your own thoughts and worries were manifesting as an anxiety that Eddie might feel the same.

“I feel as though I do have to be patient with you, but patient for the future.”

“For whatever problems are going to keep cropping up?”

“Those don’t factor into my patience. Each day might bring a new challenge, but it also means that I get to extend our time together. I’ve had to learn to be patient with myself, with my plans, with Gotham even. I’ve had to wait, for the right time, for the right ideas, for the right people. For money, for a job, for the opportunity. And for me to be confident enough, to have the right ideals, to pursue my morals. I’ve had to be very patient.”

It was interesting to hear him talk about his work, earnestly discussing it with honesty, not trying to hide it from you in this moment as he usually did. He thought he was shielding you from it, protecting you. But somewhere in his mind, finally breaking through his need to help you, he must have known that trying to tiptoe around you as though you were too delicate for his truths would only serve to make you more concerned that he was worried and stressed about you, about your abilities, about the accident, about how it affected you. And instead, he was, for the first time in a long time, treating you like you were the same you from before. He really did listen to you. Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your lips to kiss it, absent-mindedly holding it there as he finished his thoughts.

“And you might have to learn to be patient with yourself. You can’t expect things to be the same, or to get better quickly, or at all. And if I’d thought for a moment that we’d be the same people forever, well that would have been boring!”

Eddie loved his rants. You tried to stifle your giggle as he finished his little sermon to you.

“So, to summarise!”

Too much, you were laughing now, and he was holding you close.

“What, something funny?”

“No, no! Please, finish what you were saying.”

“I have to be patient with you, but only because my biggest desire is to spend eternity with you. And that can’t just happen overnight. So I have to wait. And every day, regardless of the difficulties, means I’m one step closer to achieving that goal.”

[yeahimaloser]

I'm Home

Hello! I'm so sorry this took so long to make! the final few weeks of school has been busting my ass, but it's almost over!

Anyways, here is part two to Come Home!

Summary: After your fight, Dabi tries to find you in order to make things right, he wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: angst, tiny bit suggestive if you squint.

. . .

The first thing Dabi felt as he awoke was a splitting headache.

He grabbed his head as it throbbed in pain, shaking it painfully. He grouped around, his eyes still tightly closed from the pain, trying to feel you near him, but all he could feel were the cool bedsheets underneath his palm.

Maybe you were making breakfast? You always did know how to cheer him up after a nasty hangover.

Dabi groaned as something gnawed at the back of his mind, a memory fogged with alcohol and yelling and…

You.

He jolted up, soon after regretting it because his whole body felt like it was being crushed down. He had to give himself a moment to let his head august, but when it did, he was grabbing at his phone, looking at the time.

Eleven a.m.

Dabi felt a coldness run through his vines. There were no texts from you, no calls, no anything.

“Fuck,” his voice felt hoarse and gruff, but in all honesty, he couldn’t give two shits.

He had fucked up. He had fucked up the one thing he needed, the one, perfect thing he had.

It was one thing for him to come home drunk, he knew that maybe you would have forgiven him then. But he remembered all those things he said about you, all those horrible things he said came rushing back.

Obviously, he didn’t mean them, how could he? He loved you so much, and maybe he didn’t tell you that as often as he should have, but he really, truly did.

Except now he had fucked up, and he had fucked up big.

And he missed you, he missed seeing your face as he woke up, watching you tease him by saying; “aww look how finally decided to come out.”

To which a very hungover him would probably say; “Whatever,” and probably just start cuddling up to you.

But he didn’t get that, he didn’t deserve that.

He opened his messages to you, seeing as you didn’t even text him to let him know where you were, which he knew was ironic.

He stared down at the blank messages, hatting how the last text you sent him was from yesterday, around one in the morning.

Y/N: I love you

He growled before stumbling out of bed, he quickly realized that standing up was a bad idea.

As he put a hand to his head, trying to steady the pounding in his brain, he clicked on the button that had your phone ringing.

He waited.

And waited.

And then-

Nothing. You didn’t pick up.

Maybe it was too early?

He knew that wasn’t at all the case, you were ignoring him, and really, he couldn't blame you. He had been a dick to you last night, and all he wanted to do was apologize to you, tell you that he wanted you to stay with him.

Dabi was absolute shit at words, he had a hard time expressing himself in general. But, he knew he had to convince you to stay, somehow.

He groaned to himself, how the fuck was he supposed to find you?

. . .

You had driven far.

Far enough where you knew nothing looked familiar, far enough where you knew that nothing would make you compelled to come home. It was just you, and nothing more.

Finally, you found some shitty motel, asked for a room, and that was it.

Well, except for the fact that you cried for a few hours, only to crash out.

To be honest, you felt pathetic. Which was concerning because you had done nothing wrong. Anyone would have reacted the same, anyone would have walked away and been just as mad as you.

But you felt so miserable.

Maybe what Dabi did was absolutely horrendous, and any rational person would be upset, seeing as he didn’t even think to tell you he was ok (the one thing you asked him to tell you), and all the mean things he said? Your heart still hurt from that. But you loved him. You loved him, and it felt heavy to stay away from him, like each moment he wasn’t with you, you felt like a brick was added to your lungs, till your body felt so pressed down you couldn’t move.

For most of that night, all you could do was cry.

And then sleep.

And you slept late.

Yet, if you were honest you couldn’t care. Thinking about Dabi just made you feel sick, thinking about the fact that you left Dabi also made you feel sick, and then thinking about leaving made you feel sick like if you moved, you would break.

So you just stayed, not thinking, not moving, not even bothering to august your position when you got uncomfortable.

You just wanted to be sad, you just wanted to be left alone. To wallow in self-pity and sadness, to not think about the fact that you might have just lost your boyfriend, the one man you truly thought you deserved.

After a few, long, dragged-out moments, you heard a quiet knock at your door.

Your brows furrowed, who could that be?

You hadn’t ordered any food, there was no reason the staff would be knocking at your door, so who the hell could it be?

“Coming,” your voice was hoarse, probably from the crying.

You rolled off your spot on your bed, not bothering to check how you looked, you just wanted to be left alone.

You opened up your door, and shock washed over you.

To any other person, he would look like...well to be completely honest he would like an idiot.

He had a hoodie and shades on, and a mask to cover up his scars, as well as a red cap to not draw suspicion to his hair.

But you knew Dabi when you saw him.

Dabi took a long breath before he spoke, “Y/N...Y/N I’m sorry.”

You planted your feet firmly, keeping your voice as steady as you could, “Just come in before anyone notices you.”

Dabi nodded, stepping into the small space of the motel room, shuffling around you as he came in.

You shut the door, trying to compose yourself as Dabi took off his “disguise.”

“...Have you been crying?”

Those were not the first words you wanted to hear after your fight with Dabi, a part of you wanted him to beg for you to come back with him (which you knew wouldn’t happen, he was way too stubborn). And yet, a part of you didn’t want that, you wanted him to just leave, he was the one who caused this, after all, he was the one who should take some responsibility.

And yet, the other, deeper part of you, just wanted to run into his arms, and cry. You just wanted him to hold you, to kiss you, to silently rub your back like he always did to soothe you. You just wanted your Dabi back.

But instead, you huffed, “Of course you would say something like that,” you turned your back to him, not wanting him to see the disappointment on your face.

But Dabi grabbed your wrist, “Hey, I was just worried because...well because I thought you would have been more mad than depressed. You did nothing wrong.”

Well, now you were starting to get mad. You whipped back around to him, snatching your wrist out of his hold, “Not everyone needs to do something shitty to feel upset, Dabi. You hurt me, I’m not just gonna walk away from something like that feeling all angry. I was upset because you don’t care.”

Dabi’s face shifted into one of startlement, “I don’t care? Doll, what are you talking about? I drove all the way here because I care. I won’t bullshit you, I was an ass. I should have called you and I should have come home earlier than I did. And those things I said, those were fucked up, and I don’t mean them. I-I don’t have an excuse. But I’m here now, I’m here because I’m sorry Y/N and I wanna fix this.”

You sighed, “Dabi, you really hurt me-”

“I know, and I just wanna...apologize. Y/N, that was wrong of me, I was an ass, and you don’t deserve that. I miss you Y/N, and I know you deserve something better than...this.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What can you not even say how we’re in a relationship.”

“No- that’s not what I-,” Dabi shook his head, “Y/N, I love you, and I know I don’t say that all that often because you know it’s hard. But I really can’t lose you. You’re just about all I have left,” he chuckled a bit.

A long, stretched-out moment passed between you two before you sighed and moved towards Dabi.

“I love you too.”

And there it was, that devilish smirk on his face, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught that, would you mind repeating it please?”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Ok, ok sorry.”

You both paused, waiting for something to break the eerie silence that filled up in the space between you two.

And finally, it all came out.

“...Did you mean all that stuff you said.”

“No, I meant none of it.”

You sighed, “Even the part where... where you said I was better off without you? Even the part where you said I should leave you?”

Dabi visibly bristled, “Doll-”

He was silent, and you could feel the temperature in the room heat up.

“You can do better than me, I’ve always thought that that part of our relationship would have been obvious. But, if you’re asking if I want that? Then no. I want you to come home, I want to fix this because I love you, I want you to stay with me.”

You took a long, deep, pause before answering, “I do too, Dabi. It’s just, your words hurt, and I don’t know if I can magically forgive you yet.”

Dabi felt his chest tightening, “...So then, what do we do?”

You fiddled with your hands, “I’m not really sure.”

“I don’t wanna break up-”

“Neither do I,” you interjected, “I don’t wanna leave you, Dabi. that’s the last thing I want to do. I just don’t know how I can get over this.”

“Do you want some space?”

You paused.

Did you want space? A part of you knew that maybe it was the responsible thing to do, a part of you thought that maybe, maybe it would do you both good to separate for a bit.

But the other part of you, the one screaming inside, was telling you no, you didn’t want space.

You missed Dabi’s arms around you, missed the way his hands felt so protective around your body. You missed the way his lips would fall on yours, ever so dominant in his way. No, you didn’t want space, you just wanted him.

“No,” you said, “no I don’t want space.”

“So then,” Dabi started, “What do you want.”

You leaned into him, as he did the same. Your eyes meet as you both seem to have a mutual need for one another.

“I want you.”

Your lips collided with his, your breath was taken away as his hands grabbed at the small of your back. The way his body formed against yours, as you hugged yourself tightly to him.

You couldn’t help but sigh as Dabi deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding past yours as he grabbed you by your hips.

You gasped suddenly as he pushed you up on the wall of the motel, your eyes going wide, only to be met with a loud growl from Dabi.

If you were being completely honest, you loved when he got like this, so in the moment, so passionate. The way he was so dominating made your legs shake, made your stomach boil with anticipation.

You wanted more.

You gripped onto Dabi’s hair, earning a surprising moan from him, his hands flinch on your hips.

But he got you back.

His body closed up around yours, tight against you, like you had nowhere to go.

Unfortunately, you had to breathe. Which would have ended the forgiving kiss.

Well, except, Dabi decided to go exploring on your neck.

His lips were rough against your skin, but they always had such care to them as Dabi pressed them to you. Such a loving air, and yet, such a claiming one as well. A kind of way to say, “You are mine, and I will show you.”

“D-Dabi,” you hated how you stuttered. But the way Dabi looked back up at you made it worth it.

He brought his lips away from your neck, only to place them again on yours.

After a moment, he pulled back.

“So,” Dabi said breathless, “...I’m forgiven?”

“...you ruined the moment.”

. . .

tag-list

@breezybear @softkao @fandomofheroes @lovely-angst @nadaespexial @effmigentlywithachainsaw @cold-dreamy-eyes @satansgf1

I HOPE YALL DONT MIND IF I TAGGED YOU IN THE PART TWO!

[drabbles-mc]

Let Me In

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜

Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope​​ @noz4a2​​ @queenbeered​​ @sincerelyasomebody​​ @sadeyesgf​​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ @appropriate-writers-name​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @multiyfandomgirl40​​ @sillygoose6969​​ @louisianalady​​ @gemini0410​​ @chibsytelford​​ @yourwonkywriter​​ @sesamepancakes​​ @mayans-sauce​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @plentyoffandoms​​ @georgiaaintnopeach​​ @twistnet​​ @themoonandthewicked​​ @garbinge​​ @bucky-iss-bae​​ @enjoy-the-destruction​​ @encounterthepast​​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​​ @rosieposie0624​​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ @mijop​​ @xladymacbethx​​ @blessedboo​​ @holl2712​​ @lakamaa12​​ @masterlistforimagines​​ @kkim120​​ @toni9​​ (If you want to be added let me know!)

Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.

The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.

EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.

“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.

He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”

She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”

Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”

He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”

Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”

EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.

When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.

You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.

You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.

“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”

“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.

There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”

You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.

You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.

“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”

“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.

You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”

“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.

You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”

“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.

It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”

“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”

You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”

“Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea.”

You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.

When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.

You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.

Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.

Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.

The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.

You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.

“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him

He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”

You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”

He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”

You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.

“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.

He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”

“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.

“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”

He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”

You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”

One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he’d shown up on your doorstep.

[wonglix]

➺ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ʀᴇᴀʟɪsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ s/ᴏ

⤷ fluff

*•.¸♡ hongjoong ⋮ when you scold him ♡¸.•*

as weird as it may sound, hongjoong realised that he was in love with you while you were scolding him with an angry look on your face, hands on your hips and brows furrowed

he knew that he was neglecting his basic needs to work a little bit more but he never really thought much of it. he didn’t expect you to come by spontaneously and he got worried when he saw how upset you were, thinking that something might’ve happened.

when he went to embrace you to calm you down, you immediately shut him down, telling him to sit down and listen with a stern look on your face. you began to rant about his health, how it wasn’t good for him to overwork himself like that and that you didn’t want him to faint or break down one day.

he should’ve been ashamed or maybe upset, but he couldn’t help the warmth that was blooming inside of him at that moment. observing your cute little angry pout he had to bite back a smile, realising in that exact moment that he had fallen deeply in love with you.

you weren’t scolding him because you were genuinely mad, you were throwing harsh words at him because you loved him so much and were worried about him. slowly getting up, he came closer to you and before you could call him out he had his hands placed on your cheeks, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

*•.¸♡ seonghwa ⋮ when you help him ♡¸.•*

he’s very caring and often tends to be the one to take care not only of you but also of the others, naturally falling into the role of the caregiver

seonghwa doesn’t really mind though, he enjoys being able to take care of the people he loves.

seonghwa always knew that he loved you; if his pounding heart and the warm feeling in his chest were anything to go by. the day he realised he was in love with you was an incredibly stressful one, everyone was buzzing around trying to get their work done

he was just about to go around and ask everyone what they’d like to eat, getting ready to go out and get food for everyone when the door to the changing room suddenly opened, you standing there with multiple bags of food in your hands

seonghwa swears he feels his heart jump out of his chest at the warm smile you have on your face while the members practically tackle you to get their food, rushed “thank you”s being thrown around aimlessly

you looked so genuinely happy to help them out, to take a burden off of his shoulders just for the sake of helping - he pulls you close and catches you off guard with an extremely passionate kiss full of love and adoration, the shouts and cheering being drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears

*•.¸♡ yunho ⋮ when you take care of him ♡¸.•*

there’s probably nothing that makes yunho’s heart swell with absolute love for you more than all those times you wait up for him, ready to make him something to eat even though it’s already late

yunho knows that you don’t have to take care of him like that, and sometimes he feels really bad when he sees how much effort you put in just to make him happy but he’d definitely be lying if he said that he didn’t love it

there’s just something about the way you pamper him after a long day of work, how you prepare food for him and make sure he has some time to himself to calm down and relax

he realised he was madly in love with you when he came into the bedroom to see a change of clothes laying on the bed, neatly folded together. in the bathroom he was met with your kneeling figure next to the bathtub, checking the temperature to see if it’s hot enough

his heart clenches and he can practically feel all the exhaustion vanish, like it never existed - and then when you look up at him with a warm, caring smile he can’t help but blurt out, “i’m so in love with you, oh my god”

it catches you off guard but makes you blush nonetheless, a giddy smile on your face when you get up to crush him in a loving hug. he wraps his arms around you, his body relaxing in your hold

*•.¸♡ yeosang ⋮ when you let him vent ♡¸.•*

he bottles his emotions up a lot, not wanting to be burden to anyone by ranting over things that might be considered unimportant - those things still bug him and make him upset nevertheless, though

it can be hard for him to keep his masquerade going, especially when he’s around you. he just wants to rant and vent about all the things he’s been keeping to himself when he’s with you, because you make him feel safe and comfortable enough to be himself

you had suggested a movie night to help yeosang relax and unwind, but it seems that he’s still stressed, that there is still something gnawing at him

you turn off the movie, yeosang turning to you in surprise. you take his face in your hands to make him look into your eyes and tell him to let it all out, to just vent and rant since that’s what you’re here for; you’re there for him when he’s down or mad, happy or sad

it’s like lightning struck him at that exact moment. this, exactly this was one of his favourite things about you; you let him rant on and on about stupid things that get on his nerves for hours on end if he needs to, you’re there to listen to the whole thing no matter how worked up he gets himself

you understand his emotions more than anyone else, you know when he has to blow off some steam and just throw around curses to cool off a bit - and it’s one of his favourite things about you

*•.¸♡ san ⋮ when you’re patient ♡¸.•*

san knows that he can be a bit overbearing sometimes, that he’s too loud or too childish for a lot of people and that there are plenty more that would never put up with him the way you do

but he’s glad that you do, glad that you love him just the way he is, even if he gets on your nerves on the regular and tests your patience a little too much for your liking

he loves to interrupt you with cheesy pickup lines and sweet kisses or play little pranks on you, and you never blew up on him or told him to knock if off with any real malice behind your words

san loves that you’re not only patient when it comes to his little shenanigans, but also when it comes to his work; he knows that his line of work puts a heavy weight in your relationship but you never make him feel guilty, always waiting for him

he can’t pinpoint the exact moment he realised, if it was during the time he kept singing everything he wanted to say or if it was after multiple weeks of not seeing each other - either way he knows that he’s been blessed with a loving, patient partner that is always ready to put up with him

*•.¸♡ mingi ⋮ when you listen to him ♡¸.•*

sometimes he’ll get weird ideas at the most random times of day; he’ll come up with something in 3 AM while he was peeing, suddenly wide awake and all excited to tell you

and the best thing? you’re always ready to listen to him, not once ridiculing him or laughing at his thoughts. yeah you’re a bit grumpy sometimes when he wakes you up just to tell you about frogs with hats, but you never tell him to shut up or tell that he sounds stupid

he can’t help those random bursts of weird thoughts, but he’s glad that he found someone he can not only share them with, but also someone who’s chill enough to indulge in his thoughts and actually discuss them with him

he can’t wait to tell your kids one day that the way he realised he had fallen in love with you was while you were sitting against your headboard, both of you taking your current argument about pet skunks very seriously

there was just this sudden realisation while he was listening to you, this realisation that this, this right here is what he wants for the rest of his life; he’s in love with you and would probably marry you on the spot right now (though he knows that it’s just his tired brain being a little too over enthusiastic )

he appreciates that you not only listen to his troubles and problems but also to those questionable thoughts that would usually keep him up at night

*•.¸♡ wooyoung ⋮ when you tease him ♡¸.•*

he loves to tease you and pick on you lovingly a lot, and the easiest way to make his heart swell with love was to tease him back. he loves that you’re able to clap back at him every time he decides to get on your nerves

humour is important to him, so the fact that you’re able to keep up with him and one-up him more often than he’d like to admit is something that makes him genuinely happy

wooyoung can’t describe the excitement he feels when you decide to tease him back, he doesn’t really know why but he absolutely loves it and he wouldn’t exchange your little banter for anything

you two were going back and forth the whole day, throwing around snarky remarks and lighthearted comments. as much as wooyoung loves soft days with you, days where the two of you cuddle and whisper sweet nothings - these days, where you keep trying to get on each other’s nerves are definitely his favourite

and that’s when he realises, while you’re completely dragging him with your smart remarks - his pride should be hurt and he should come up with a clap back, but he can’t help but suddenly get all mushy and warm inside; you always understand him and his intentions

*•.¸♡ jongho ⋮ when you let him baby you ♡¸.•*

he gets pampered a lot, both by you and his members alike - he loves it, no doubt about it, but there’s something about the pride he feels when he gets to be the one to baby and pamper you for a change

jongho likes to tend to you, he likes feeling like he’s the one you go to when you need help; he likes feeling needed, especially by you. he’s so used to others taking care of him that being the one who pampers you once in a while makes his heart absolutely swell

usually you’re the one to make sure he eats and sleeps properly, you’re usually the one to visit him at work to bring him food; so when he has one of his rare day offs he decides that it’s time to return the favours

he prepares your favourite food for the time you get home and draws you a bath, excited to help you calm down and relax after a stressful day. so when you come home, eyes teary and brows furrowed, he’s ready to help you out any way he can

the exact moment when he realised that he’s really, truly deeply in love with you was when you’re laying in bed next to him, eyes tired and hazy while you whisper a soft “thank you jongie , i love you” right before you fall asleep in his arms

it makes him feel so good to know that he’s there for you, that he can take care of you and make you feel better after a hard and exhausting day. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a warm smile etched on his face while he lets himself drift to sleep

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands--Ch. 5 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

[CW: Vague mention of abortion, discussions of not-actually-happening spousal abuse, canon typical classism and anti-sex worker rhetoric, very mild emetophobia warning (nothing actually happens)]

She has a single moment for her sleep-slow brain to think; Madam Jin? Why on earth is she here without sending word? Is there an emergency? Has something happened to Jin Zixuan? before He Si’s voice comes again, more frantic, saying, “Oh--Ah, furen, I don’t think--!”

The door flies open with a bang and Yanli jumps, clutching the makeup removing cloth to her chest. All at once, Madam Jin is here, in her room, ashen and wind scattered, sweeping over in a flood of gold and a thick perfume, “Oh Gods, look at you,” she moans despairingly, gathering up Yanli’s free hand in an iron grip. “How far along are you? No, it doesn’t matter--these things can be dealt with when we return to Koi Tower. You,” she snaps, turning to He Si who is hovering anxiously in the doorway, hands at her mouth. “Begin packing her things.”

What? ...What?

He Si shoots her a furtive look before scurrying to her wardrobe. But her voice is held hostage by her fog-slow mind and she can only blink, stunned. It’s being bowled over by an unstoppable wave; Yanli is towed, bewildered and spinning in its undertow, still scrambling to understand. Madam Jin, however, is rolling right along, petting the back of her hand with her soft, sky-frozen fingers. “Oh, you look awful. I’ll have him gutted, I’ll have them all gutted, how could they do this to you? Men,” she spits the word like a curse, her features twisted into a snarl that reminds Yanli so much of her own mother in a temper. “I came as soon as I heard what my brute of a husband had done, but I nearly qi deviated first. You don’t have to worry, A-Li, I’m going to fix this; he is never going to touch you again. Look at me, child, let me see you.” Every line in her face is etched like agony, like fury as she presses her hand to Yanli’s cheek. “Has he hurt you?”

He? Sect Leader Jin? She hasn’t seen him since the wedding.

In fact, she hasn’t seen or heard from Madam Jin herself since before that, during Yanli’s stay at Koi Tower during the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. She hadn’t attended her wedding.

That had hurt her, for she had always been a dear friend of her mother’s and an auntie to Yanli, always taking an interest in her--though she had always assumed some of that had been as a future mother-in-law. She had wondered if Madam Jin was upset with her for how the engagement had gone and if her absence was her showing disapproval. (Yanli had had to shake herself free of that gnawing guilt whenever she thought about this, reminding herself that it was Jin Zixuan who had rejected the engagement and that even if she could somehow be in trouble for marrying A-Yao, she would never regret it.) When she had diffidently asked after Madam Jin’s absence, Sect Leader Jin had merely smiled widely and waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, she’s out traveling, visiting distant relatives and old friends. Socializing. You know how women are.”

Yanli had thought that she had a much better idea of how women were than Sect Leader Jin might, but had smiled politely, bowed, and accepted this.

Now, she watches helplessly as He Si drags a trunk out from a corner and begins layering her robes into it, sneaking frightened looks back at her mistress. “I don’t....” Yanli manages, voice cracked and thin. “Jin-furen, I’m not--I don’t--”

Madam Jin nods, her smile wobbly and proud, as if Yanli is being very brave. “It’s alright, dear. I’m here now. I’m here to take you with me, A-Li, you don’t have to stay here another minute.”

What? As she opens her mouth to protest, to ask what on earth is going on, all that Madam Jin had said finally manages to squeeze itself into her sluggish brain. Cold rushes over her like ice water.

Madam Jin hadn’t known about the marriage. Sect Leader Jin hadn’t told her, he had done it behind her back. She thinks Yanli was forced into this. She thinks A-Yao is hurting her. She thinks she’s rescuing her. The frantic speeding of her heart spins her head, as if the room is revolving around her, her thoughts a jumble. “No, Jin-furen, you don’t--you don’t understand--”

“Shhh, A-Li, I understand more than you know. The way the world uses women is not new to me. You’re not alone in this.”

“No, I--I know that I’m not--”

Madam Jin nods gently, encouragingly, sending the beautiful golden pendant from her hair stick swinging as she strokes Yanli’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Yes, exactly, you’re not. I’m here for you. I will make this right.”

It’s making her head throb, this feeling closing in around her; being surrounded by her familiar floral perfume, being talked to as if she were young and foolish, as if she has no idea what is good for her. She feels herself getting smaller and smaller until she's barely there at all, her voice barely heard. Pitiful. They never say as much, but that's what they must think of her. Pitiful and silly. A child again.

She hadn't even realized how real she has been feeling these days until she finds herself back in this sad little grey box where all she can do is sit and be rescued and planned for. Planned around. She feels the scattered beginnings of her own indignation wilting like unwatered flowers, greying, quieting. The words cowering in her throat. She can feel herself folding as she always has, as she's been taught, to stern women who know better.

She mustn't. Curling her fingers, she grasps Madam Jin’s hand back, willing her to hear and believe her because the story she seems to have written inside her own head sounds too awful to bear. “No...no, Jin-furen, you must understand--I chose him, I agreed, I’m--I’m--”

“Oh, child, I’m not blaming you, there is no way you could have known.”

How many times can she say no and have it fall like insignificant little drops onto a blazing inferno? How many times can it not matter before it’s no use to even speak at all? Trapped between her traitorous, cowardly tongue and the force of nature that is Madam Jin. She tries again anyway. “No, he’s wonderful, he takes care of me--”

But Madam Jin’s eyes have fallen to her wrist and a swell of rage-filled-power rises from her like simmering heat. “Is that what this is?” she hisses, and for all that she looks about to spit sparks, her hands are careful when she cradles Yanli’s hand and pushing her sleeve back to bare the faint bloom of muddy purple that rings the thin skin of her wrist.

The wrist that A-Yao had caught when she had lost her balance during their dance.

She hadn’t even noticed it bruising--it hadn’t hurt, it hadn’t. Her skin has just always been easily bruised, ever since she was a child. The panic is climbing her throat at the way this all seems to be hurtling down a cliffside with the trajectory of a bag of rocks, squeezing it almost as tight as her chest and she has to fight the urge to snatch her wrist back. “Furen, no, he didn’t hurt me--I tripped.”

He Si is frozen, one of Yanli’s gauzy over robes squeezed in shaking hands. Her eyes are darting between them, the ends of her pink ribbons quivering.

Madam Jin is bristling, the ozone tang of her rage on Yanli’s tongue, vibrating her skull like the tongue of a bell. “This is a handprint! A-Li, look at yourself! Look at what he’s done to you! You look like you’re on the verge of death!”

“I’m not, I’m--it’s my own fault, I drank too much yesterday, I pushed myself too hard!” she cries because she knows how she looks when she’s sick and hungover, but it is not her husband’s fault. “He would never--”

But no. Madam Jin’s eyes have darkened to thunderous “Absolutely none of this is your fault, A-Li, do you hear me? None of it.”

“It was an accident! He didn’t mean to--”

“You think no woman has ever thought that of a husband? That she has never blamed herself? There is no such thing as a decent man, A-Li--no less one that’s a bastard whoreson.”

It rings in her ears. Stealing the breath from her parted lips, winding her more utterly than her rage had. A knife in the ribs, clenched in her insides. If these words hurt A-Yao half as badly as this hurts now, Yanli has no idea how he is still living after all these years. They are horrid. As if he is not human. She should have felt angry; instead, she’s just betrayed.

I didn’t know you were like this.

She stares at the contempt for her husband coloring her auntie’s familiar and beloved face, unable to find the words she needs. Madam Jin softens, the press of her power abating as she strokes her hair. It raises ugly goosebumps down the back of her neck, this touch. She hates the way she is crowded close, stroking and coaxing and soothing--hates it in a way she never has before.

“You've always been so filial but there is no way your mother would have allowed this to happen if she were still alive. She would have never wanted this for you, A-Li, you know that.”

More pain. Swimming, nauseating pain because, yes, she knows--her mother would have said such terrible things about her A-Yao. Out of concern and propriety and love but they would have been vicious, just like when she had talked about A-Xian. Worse, even. She’s hearing their echoes now, through time, from Madam Jin, of one mind and memory.

If her mother was still alive, A-Yao would not be her husband. She knows this for a fact.

Madam Jin seems to take her struggling silence as encouragement and continues with new insistence, like she thinks she’s getting through to her.

“And this is not what I would ever want for you either, child, whether you decide to marry my idiot of a son or not. I love you like my own daughter, and you deserve so much more than gutter trash. You don’t have to force yourself to suffer through--”

Sudden, molten rage spurts up from Yanli’s stomach up her spine and to her head until she feels incandescent with it. “He is not trash,” escapes her, low and trembling. Her hands are balled into fists in her lap, despite Madam Jin’s gentle hand around her wrist.

Pity floods Madam Jin’s face. Yanli could scream. “Shh, shhh, shhh, A-Li, it’s alright. Oh, you never could say a cross word about anyone. He can’t hear you. Neither can your brother or that awful Wei Ying. It’s just us. You don’t have to be brave anymore.”

Her pulse is throbbing in her head, her chest, the tips of her fingers, the soles of her feet. “I’m not. A-Yao is kind, he is good, he is--”

“Oh, A-Li, please, don’t you see what Guangshan was doing? It was an insult, him being sent here. He sent you this--this beast instead of taking you in and giving you the protection you deserve and that idiot of a brother of yours accepted and I will never forgive them for it. You were supposed to be--”

A-Yao, Xianxian, and now A-Cheng. No. No more. She will take no more. “Jin-furen,” she says, slowly, staring at the white hills of her clenched knuckles. “Please don’t talk about my husband that way.”

Madam Jin insists, “You don’t want someone like this in your line--he’s probably diseased! Think of your Clan! Think of the children! Your mother tolerated Wei Ying because of his parentage, but she would draw the line at--”

“Jin-furen,” she says, her voice ringing now, raising up her gaze to stare into the woman’s startled eyes. “Please do not ever talk about my husband that way. Or my family.”

Finally, Madam Jin falls into intent silence, watching her from dark circled eyes. As if she’s trying to find a way around her words. Find out how she’s lying or hiding or being bullied into this.

And it makes Yanli burn.

“I love him,” she says with a conviction that sings down through her chest like the Jiang clarity bell that is laid out carefully on the edge of her makeup table, waiting to be worn. Shining.

Because she had been wondering before and is certain now. Because there is no fear or doubt when she says it, because it is as easy as breathing and feels just as true--she loves him, not just because he needs it and deserves it but because he is hers and she is his. And she’s so angry that it’s Madam Jin and not A-Yao who is the first to hear it.

Madam Jin lets out a disbelieving sound through her nose, eyes pitying again. “Oh, A-Li, this isn’t love. Not with someone like him.”

He has never made me feel as small as you are now. And I don’t need to convince you.

Yanli stands, though her head swims and her knees buckle, vision sparkling at the edges with fury and vertigo. Madam Jin also stands, grasping Yanli’s elbows with worry crowding her face when she sways. “Child--”

“Jin-furen, I think you have misunderstood what is going on here. I’m not leaving.” She looks to He Si, who is still by the trunk, watching with huge eyes. “Please put those back.” The maid slowly opens the wardrobe back up without looking away.

“A-Li, be reasonable.” Madam Jin sounds alarmed. “Is it because you are with child? Is that why you’re being so--?”

“I am not.” It is none of her business whether or not they have indulged in their marriage bed or if they ever will. It is absolutely no one’s business at all. This current is coursing through her like a clear river--higher than rage, higher than panic, brighter than the sun. It is fast and her ears ring and she feels flushed and close to collapse but she is finished with this entire conversation. She is the Lady of the Jiang. She is one of Lotus Pier’s hosts. This is her room. She turns her gaze back to Madam Jin, sees her distress and can’t find it in herself to feel guilt. “I thank you for your concern, Jin-furen. But this is a Clan matter.” She keeps her voice chill and polite.

“A-Li, you’re being too kind for your own good.”

“Thank you, furen. I’m not.”

“I’m not going to let you do this to yourself!”

Yanli straightens her spine, lifts her chin, and says with the most arctic voice she can manage without being blatantly rude, “On the contrary, Jin-furen, it is already done. And I have never been so happy.” Before Madam Jin can respond, she continues. “You must be tired from your trip. We will find you a room so that you can recover for your departure tomorrow.”

Madam Jin is standing stiff, staring at her with ill concealed frustration and concern. Then, she announces to the room, “It has been years since I’ve visited Lotus Pier. I will stay a while and make certain that Ziyuan-jie’s home and family are being cared for properly.” Her gaze never leaves Yanli’s face. She looks as though she is planning a kidnapping behind her eyes.

Yanli cannot make her leave; this fury would only go so far when her body is already about to fail and when being obedient and filial were the quenchants of her forging. Madam Jin is her elder and the wife of an allied Sect Leader. And so she merely gives a jerky curtsy and glances aside at He Si. The girl nods and bows, gesturing past herself to the door with a nervous smile. “This way, furen?”

Madam Jin sweeps out and down the hall with stung dignity, head held high. Yanli manages to totter over to the doors on shaky legs to close them, but ends up leaning on one to catch her speeding breath. Her entire face is buzzing, sweat beading at her hairline. There are 2 lotus petals still stirring in the eddies from Madam Jin’s wake in the corridor, their delicate little curves swirling like boats in a breeze. The little things her own auntie had said kept washing over her; the way she had assumed Yanli’s hypothetical pregnancy would have been a problem she had the right to ‘take care of’; the immediate and easy dismissal of Yanli’s truth; insulting her brothers. She feels like throwing up.

The only person she had spoken highly of was who she thinks Yanli is. And within those confines, Yanli finds herself twisting. She has always wanted to be good, to be loved. But not like this, some poor doll in need of a rescue. Not as some prize that had been gifted to the 'wrong man' when all that made her good and whole were her people.

Her people. Madam Jin has just shown herself to no longer be trustworthy enough to be one of them. The severing leaves her watery kneed, but fierce in her conviction. She has lost nearly everything, before. She will never allow herself to even come close again. It is a small price.

“Shijie?”

At Xianxian’s voice, she looks up, finds him striding down the hall, face creased in worry. She manages a weak smile and reaches out when he comes near enough, letting herself lean heavily into his arms with a gust of breath. “Xianxian. I’m alright, I’m just...need to sit down.” Things are wavering, as if they’re underwater, her head pulsing with pain.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you sure?” he asks, alarmed as he dabs at her face with his sleeve, bearing her weight as she shuffles back toward her chair. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Here, over here, sit. Was it dinner last night? You don’t usually drink.”

She does sit, more heavily than she would have liked, and closes her eyes as he takes one of her fans from her drawer and crouches before her, wafting cooler air over her face. After a moment to catch her breath, she looks at him and gives a small smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with A-Yao?”

He reaches up with his other sleeve to gently blot her forehead again. “We got back a while ago. Yao-ge told me to find you because you were upset. Did I just pass the reason in the hall? Shall I go chase her out for you?” He gave her his impish smirk, the one that makes her laugh. But she hears the weight of the offer behind the joking.

As gratifying as that might be to her right at this moment, with this indignant anger still gushing through her, she knows better than to let herself get swept up in petty revenge. And she knows A-Xian’s temper. Better not tell him at all how much Madam Jin had upset her. She shakes her head and takes his free hand, holding it in her lap like an anchor as her heart slowly calms. “No...no, I’ll take care of it.” She simply breathes for a moment as she settles back, then pets his cheek when she sees him eyeing her doubtfully.

“Shijieeee,” he whines. “How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong? How can you leave Xianxian in the dark?”

There is no need for anyone else to know the vile things Madam Jin had said. She will get better at this, hammering herself into a shield for them--for all of them. “It’s nothing worth repeating, nosy Xianxian.” As she speaks, she pokes his nose gently and he scrunches it up.

“Was it about Yao-gege?”

He knows her too well. She sighs. “It was.”

It’s beginning to dawn on her how blind she has been to A-Yao’s plight. The way no one from the Jin had so much as written to him in the month or so that they have been married, as far as she knew. The way Jin Guangshan had talked around him during the arrangement of their engagement, as if barely worth mentioning. And now Madam Jin had surely never shown him any kindness, if they had ever met. No mother, and his father’s family disdainful, shoving him out as soon as they gained him.

And so who in the world has A-Yao had to stand with him? No one? No one at all? Where are his sworn brothers, Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun? Where is Nie Huaisang, if they had been so close, as A-Cheng had claimed? The very thought has her stomach rolling. This is unacceptable. She is going to fix this.

“A-Xian, we’re a family,” she says, fiercely, leaning forward to take his face in her hands. “You, A-Cheng, A-Yao, and I. We are never going to be parted from each other. We’re all we have left in the world. We have to be there for each other.”

He blinks, fan freezing. Then he nods, slowly. “Sure, Shijie. Of course. Always.”

“I’m not ever going to let anyone hurt you.”

His smile flicks on. “Wow, whatever Jin-furen said really got you upset--you sure you don’t want me to kick her out for you? I’ll do it, you know, no problem. You know how I feel about upstart Jin’s annoying you.”

His familiar teasing eases her stinging soul until she smiles again, brushing back one of the wisps of hair that frames his face. “I know. But no. Just...just be kind to A-Yao around her. Be respectful.”

“I’m always respectful!”

Tugging his hair, she says, “Of course, of course, that’s why he was afraid you were going to try to push him in the lake.” When he ducks his head with a sneaking grin, she plucks the fan from his fingers and bops his head with it. “I need you to get my letter writing set for me, can you do that?”

He rises, rubbing the spot as if it had hurt--but he eyes her dubiously. “Shouldn’t you sleep, Shijie? Get some food? I can make you soup!”

Her head was indeed still swirling and pounding, and at the mention of food, it twinges--though she’s not certain if it is with hunger or further nausea. So she shakes her head mournfully, sweeping the fan slowly beneath her chin. “I don’t think my stomach could take the spice of your cooking right now, Xianxian. But I would love it if you brought me some tea when you come back.”

And because he is wonderful he does, a pot of chrysanthemum tea that has clearly been chilled by one of his talismans, because it still tastes fresh, fully steeped, and delightfully cool. He also has added a bowl of lotuses floating in water on the tray he sets before her, presumably from his adventure.

“Did you have fun ‘playing’ with A-Yao?” she asks as she unloads the tray onto her desk.

“Oh that,” he rolls his eyes performatively, collapsing on his back onto her bed. “Yeah, we talked a bit, picked those. But he wouldn’t get in the water, even though it was ridiculously hot. Really, Shijie, your husband has no idea how to play!”

“Well,” she smooths the paper out before her with the slim bars of boxwood, carved in relief with cranes and bamboo--another present from A-Yao. “Then you will just have to be patient and teach him how.”

And she begins to write. Xianxian doesn’t last longer than halfway through her first letter before becoming bored and wandering back out with a cursory, “Call me if you need me, Shijie!” Condensation slowly beads on the teapot and cup beside her, and the water of the lotus bowl sparks amber in the sinking sun through her windows. Even though she has only been conscious a scant few hours of the day, she feels exhaustion through every ounce of her body and brain, sleep calling her back to her bed. But she fights it, lights the lantern on her desk, and keeps writing.

Just as she’s finishing the last letter, the door opens. She brightens and turns, mouth open to greet A-Yao--but it’s He Si, slinking in the door, looking shamefaced. “Furen.”

“Oh, A-Si. How did it go?”

Strangely, the girl's eyes well with tears and she falls to her knees. “Furen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, I panicked, I just--!”

The edge to her voice is sending spikes of pain through the backs of Yanli’s eyes and she winces, putting a hand to her temple. He Si sees and claps a hand over her mouth, eyes huge. “A-Si, it’s fine, truly. I felt badly having left you with her when she was bound to be upset. Are you alright?”

Giving a watery nod, she clambers back up to her feet, wiping at her eyes. “Yes, furen. She just wanted me gone, so I went and organized the reception of her luggage and maids that came later. I meant to be back sooner,” she adds miserably as she begins to unload the abandoned trunk. “Everything the Jin do is so complicated. Is there anything you need? Something I can get you? Medicine?”

“I’m going back to sleep soon, so maybe something for pain, please. When you’re done, you can take these letters to be delivered and...well….” She adds, shyly. “Maybe my husband? I thought you were him, coming in. I thought...he would have returned by now.”

The maid pauses in her hanging of a lavender robe and thinks. “I believe I saw him in his office working as I was coming back. Should I go get him?”

“Oh, no, if he’s busy, I can wait. I was just...I miss him.”

Timidly, He Si offers her a smile. “If I may...you were so brave today, furen. I never would have been able to talk back to Jin-furen like that. Defending your husband’s name….” She sighs, eyes dreamy. “It was so romantic.”

Yanli hides a smile behind her sleeve. “Ah, well....thank you, A-Si. I don’t think you need to be told that what was said in here is not to be spread to anyone else.”

In response, He Si pretends to close a padlock at the corner of her lips and mimes throwing the key over her shoulder. “Not a word, furen.”

The girl had proved herself to be discrete in her service so far. And so a corner of her heart feels placated. But something is starting to tug from the back of her mind, like she has forgotten something or overlooked it. It niggles there, like a fretful worm, even as He Si finishes returning all her displaced clothing and spirits the letters off. It starts to seep in when she strokes down the smooth lotus petals idly with her finger. A-Xian had said that A-Yao had sent him because she was upset. How had he known? And shouldn’t he have visited her before now, since he had been so worried?

Lotus petals...there had been lotus petals just like these on the floor outside of her room. It was not unheard of, on some windy days, but these had been fresh, as fresh as these very flowers on her desk....Oh. Oh no. Worry clutches her stomach in its sick claws and she hides her face in her hands with a low groan. Her stupid, slow mind. She had just said she would fix A-Yao’s loneliness but then had left him to it without knowing. How much had he heard? Or how little? He Si hadn’t mentioned seeing him in the hall when she left with Madam Jin--had he gone before her declaration? Had he only heard her half hearted attempts of defending before she got her proverbial feet underneath her? Just her horrible, stunned silence?

No wonder he isn’t here with his poor, tender heart. It might just be crushed in his chest with how poorly she had managed to defend him. She hastily tucks her feet into slippers and totters out.

The walk to his office is thankfully fairly short, if dizzying. Two passing servants hurry to support her elbows when they see her hesitating at the courtyard entrance, where there are no more walls to support her. She releases them just outside his door, where she can peer around the crack. At this, she scolds herself for being so childish and cowardly--but she needs to know how to approach. A-Yao is slippery when he’s hurting and she wants him to actually hear what she has to say.

In the warm lantern light of his office, he is stoic and straight backed, reading something on the desk while he himself is unreadable. His eyes are dark, his mouth a straight line. Hidden tension. He doesn’t look shattered and betrayed. But then, he never does. If he has truly heard all that she thinks he has, she would have almost (almost) preferred to find him bereft, to fully see the depth of what sort of devastation had been brought to her love so she can soothe it all. She knocks uncertainly, sees him raise his head, face unchanging. “Come in.”

When she opens the door, he smiles--and for a moment, hope pokes its little head up. Maybe he hadn’t been there at all, maybe she’s mistaken and he had been protected from Madam Jin’s vitriol.

But no. That smile is empty, just like his eyes. There is no warmth, no blooming before her as there has been. He is hiding. He opens his mouth to say something, but she blurts out first, “I’m so sorry, A-Yao.”

He blinks, closes his mouth and settles back, as if curious. “Whatever for?”

“For what you heard.”

That smile twitches at the corner, briefly and she can almost see him weighing the option of pretending, of asking what she means. Instead, the smile widens into dimples and he shakes his head, as if rueful. “I’m the one who should apologize. I never meant to eavesdrop, I was returning after my outing with Wei Wuxian and I happened to have abysmal timing. I promise that I don’t make a habit of listening outside of doors, I would hate for you to think that of me--”

Her heart aches. “A-Yao--”

Doggedly, he continues, smile unwavering. “How are you feeling? I’m surprised to see you up, you said you would sleep most of the day.”

“I did, I just...I had to come and see you.”

“Do you need anything? I can send someone to stand watch by your door all night in case you do. You would only have to call them in.”

That made it sound like he wasn’t planning to come to bed at all. This morning he had to be pushed to leave her side. Is he mistrusting her? Does he think he is unwanted? Is he isolating himself? “No, A-Si is bringing me something that will help me sleep. A-Yao, I need to know, are you alright?”

“Perfectly. Do we know how long we will be accommodating Jin-furen?”

“I...no, hopefully it’s not very long.”

“I shall have to tell the kitchens to make some Lanling delicacies, then.”

“A-Yao…” Her declaration is laying on her tongue, heavy, wanting to be given to him like a treasure. But she sees his shiny eyes and his shiny smile and the way he is doing his deft little flicks of conversation away from himself. Knows that he would probably take it as pity or placation and not truth. He will not believe that she loves him if she tells him now. “How much did you hear?”

“I feel terrible even mentioning it, Jiang-furen, it was a lapse in judgement.”

A pang in her chest, right where the knowledge of love had tolled earlier and even though it is still almost stiflingly warm, even after sun down, she suddenly feels very cold and alone. “Don’t,” she says, softly. She manages to kneel before his desk (he had tensed to rise, to help her, she had seen it) and takes one of his hands where they are placed just so on the desk before him. “Don’t leave.”

He blinks, some of that shell shifting in surprise. “I would never.”

“Don’t pull back like that. Please. I’m A-Li.” She lifts his hand, puts his palm to her cheek. “I’m not Jiang-furen. You know that.”

He is quiet, face...held. Held on, held together. Considering. “A-Li,” he repeats her, not quite a question, not quite a confirmation. His fingertips shift, flexing slightly against her cheek, his thumb gentle at the corner of her eye.

“Yes. A-Li. I want...I want to know how much you heard so I can know how much to explain, I….”

Something flickers in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain,” he says, voice low. “I shouldn’t have listened. It was a private conversation.”

“That’s not at all what I’m worried about.”

“...Then what are you worried about?”

“I...that you have been hurt. That you feel like you somehow need to stay away from me. Because you don’t and--and I don’t want you to.”

He is silent, dark eyes completely opaque in the glow of the lantern light. But his mouth has thinned. Has she struck something? Yanli grasps at this like someone drowning. “A-Yao, what she said was horrible and she is wrong. I don’t agree with a single word. You’re not...I can’t even repeat what she said, but you’re not any of those things. And I never--I never meant to be silent, I just….I’m not good with words and when I’m tired like this...I get...foggy.” Her tongue feels slippery and out of control, like she’s trying to shove the words out as quickly as she can, to get them into this sliver that has opened in him before it closes again. “I don’t know when you left. Did you hear me say that I’ve never been so happy? Did you hear that--” It’s sliding around her mouth, bumping her teeth because she wants him to have it, to be able to hold it. “I said I love you. I love you, A-Yao.” It spills.

And he freezes.

And she knows it’s a mistake.

He smiles with dimples. Closes. Whatever part of him had been listening and believing her was gone, retreating entirely. He turns his hand from her cheek, drawing hers down to the table to squeeze and release. “It’s alright, A-Li. I’m not upset. You don’t have to do that.”

Lie, lie, and lie. “A-Yao, I mean it,” she whispers desperately around the lump in her throat, her fingers in an artless tangle across whatever missives he was reading. “I do.”

His smile widens and his eyes do not join it, over bright and frozen. He swallows and says nothing. Tears crowd her eyes, hot, blurring. She swipes uselessly at them with her sleeve. It’s not that she’s hurt by his reaction. She doesn’t blame him at all. It’s not that she thinks he doesn’t care for her. It’s not rejection, they have both come too far and shared too much for her to believe that, even if she might feel its blade.

It’s just that it’s so much at once; having a horrible pain day and Madam Jin and A-Yao hurt and she can’t take it back and give it to him at the right time and she’s so tired. She had first said it in anger, and now desperation. This isn’t at all what she had wanted.

She’s doing it again. Never enough at the right time to protect those she loves. Never able to voice what was needed. She should have been able to prevent this. His hands are fists in his lap and his lips have whitened, smile now a sick thing that isn’t even trying to be convincing as he stares at the table. “A-Li--” he says in a croak and she has to save him, he has been hurt too much for today.

So she talks over him, trying to school her breath not to catch. “D-do you think you’ll be coming to bed tonight?”

“I have...work.”

Nodding, she begins to push herself up to her feet with great difficulty, now that her legs are pins and water. He’s up in an instant beside her, looking concerned, but the way that he hesitates before touching her breaks her heart--so she reaches out and takes his hand. It’s a moment before she steadies, leaning against his chest and it strikes her again just how nice and warm he smells. She wishes he would come and let her snuggle up to him to sleep. She wishes he had never heard such horrible things.

Does she beg him to stay? Or does she let him come in his own time?

“Will you walk me back?” Yanli asks in a small voice. “I don’t think I can make it on my own...my knees….”

“...Of course.”

The walk back to her room is just as slow as the walk from it. Yanli wishes that it was anything like the lovely drunken stroll they had had the night before--when she had laughed at the stars and basked in his affection. He’s closed up tight, now, and she doesn’t know if she will ever be able to pry him out of his shell again. She has to believe that she can. That his fragile trust wasn’t irreparably broken. All she can do is stand with open arms and hope he knows it’s safe to return to them.

He supports her to their bed and helps her sit. And he pauses, gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips, and for a breathless, hopeful moment, she waits. And then he bows--not a full salute, but an inclining of his head, his hands fisted in his robes. “Goodnight, A-Li.”

Her heart drops down into mush. “Goodnight, A-Yao.”

She will not push him before he’s ready. She can wait until he trusts her words again and she will tell him as many times as he needs. They have time.

They have time.

“A-Yao?”

He pauses at the door, head turning until she can see a sliver of his profile, still and closed.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll miss you.”

His fingers scrunch up in his dark blue sleeve, the corners of his lip pulling down. But he ducks his head wordlessly and disappears around the doorframe.

Luckily, He Si returns with her pain medicine only minutes after A-Yao has left, because her legs and head are throbbing. Luckier still that the girl seems to have the good sense to not ask why she’s desperately and unsuccessfully stifling tears.

[hypnobyl]

could you do some fic about swanqueen.. like where regina and emma are friends but secretly have feelings for each other and one of them confesses after having too much wine?

also wanna ask if you have any advice or starting to write fics? i’ve found that i just really like to rush when writing and find myself in writers block a lot because i always want to get to the point and the exciting stuff. also just suck at wording things and writing in general lol

I thought a lot about your question. What I did was just write a lot of little short things. Not everything has to be a novel. If you have a huge idea and get stuck on exciting moments, follow that passion and write those moments first. Build from whatever inspiration you have.

So, write a bunch of really short things, just little moments, to get the hang of your style and voice. It's a great way to practice wording. If you ever want prompts for these moments, hit me up!

And if any of those little pieces strike a chord with you, start asking how did the characters get there? Where are they going? And build the context from there.

---

“I would not have guessed you’d be into this sort of movie,” Emma said between bites of popcorn—the snack, too, was surprising: buttery, salty, and totally unhealthy. She couldn’t quite parse how the woman who limited Henry’s fast-food intake was so enthusiastically enjoying a microwaved bag of heart-attack fuel.

“I’m full of surprises, dear.”

Regina likely hadn’t meant that to sound flirty. Like, definitely hadn’t. Emma stared at the television screen, a piece of popcorn held in front of her lips for a moment too long. In the few short months that she’d been coming over on Friday nights for movies and drinks, she’d been forced to confront the fluttering of her emotions caused by Regina’s attention. But now, she realized her feelings were taking too much control. She was seeing and hearing what she wanted, not actual reality.

“Definitely,” she replied after tossing the popcorn into her mouth and crunching away. “You’re very mysterious.”

“Sarcasm?”

She glanced over and caught Regina’s wry smirk. “Oh, no, definitely not.”

They returned to the movie, and Emma gnawed on her lower lip as she tried to banish the enticing image of Regina being happy. She didn’t offer up genuine smiles often, although Emma was seeing more of them lately. Of course, Henry could evoke them at the drop of a hat, but Emma found various ways of provoking positive responses—like texting silly emojis during meetings and bringing a bag of Skittles on tough days.

An explosion flashed on the screen, and Emma attempted rather futilely to refocus on the plot. She reached for another handful of popcorn and brushed against Regina’s hand. The small touch jolted through her, and her mind dove back into reassessing each of their interactions.

She cleared her throat. “I think it’s time to break open the wine.”

Regina stood to fetch the bottle from the fridge, and Emma followed after to snag a few glasses from a cabinet. She knew her way around Regina’s kitchen by now, and they moved around each other with practiced ease. Regina shifted behind her, placing a hand just over her lower back to establish her position and presence, and Emma hated how much she felt at home.

She was too sober.

“You got the white I like,” Emma noted as she placed the glasses on the counter.

Regina huffed. “I thought a safe pick was better after the faces you made last week after each sip.”

While Emma hoped this was some sign that Regina paid attention to her wants and needs, she took Regina’s explanation at face value. It was more likely that Regina wanted to avoid her acting out. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for the kindness because she could all but chug her glass without wanting to scrape the taste from her tongue.

“Thirsty, hm?”

“That popcorn was super salty.” Emma could feel the warmth already spreading through her, and some of the tension bled away. “Super good, too, but that salt, y’know?”

“Perhaps some water would have been a better choice, then.”

“No, wine is good,” she said too quickly. “Super good.”

Regina gestured back to the living room. “Shall we?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

As the movie crept toward its climax, Emma downed another glass. Feeling bolder, she scooted a little closer on the pretext of easier access to the bowl of popcorn. Their thighs came into contact, and Emma tried to sit as still as possible to avoid drawing attention. She really didn’t want Regina to inch away.

The main character delivered a powerful line before enacting a magnificent feat of physical prowess, and Regina snorted. Emma echoed the noise, which sparked more of a real laugh. Despite the movie’s tension, they laughed, and Emma tossed a bit of popcorn across the centimeters between them. It landed in Regina’s cleavage, and the wine helped Emma decide to try and retrieve the food. By the time her brain caught up with her actions, she had her hand down Regina’s shirt.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

She jerked her hand away, leaving Regina’s blouse tugged low to reveal the edge of a lacy black bra. Stop staring, she commanded herself. Please, she amended a moment later when her eyes refused to travel back to Regina’s face. Everything felt very warm.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

Regina gingerly adjusted her blouse, and Emma finally looked up.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Emma’s emotions tumbled around her stomach, sloshing through the alcohol and getting mired in past pain. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a burden. I’ll go.”

Regina’s hand settled on her knee, effectively holding her down with the barest of touches. “You’re not a burden.”

Lip trembling, Emma shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll—It’s…”

“What’s upsetting you?” Regina paused the movie and turned to better look Emma in the eyes. “I may poke fun at the cricket, but his advice has… it’s helped a good deal. I need to better express myself, or so he says. I enjoy our evenings together, but I’ve noticed you’ve become jumpy as of late. Have I done something to cause you to drink more? Do you need to be drunk to bear my company?”

“No!” Emma shook her head too fast, causing the room to spin. “I just…”

“You just?”

“You’re so hot.” Her face flushed bright red, but she was too unsteady to get to her feet and flee the emotional moment, like she wanted to. Instead, she let her verbal vomit fly. “That’s like too rude, but it’s true. I like you. Like a lot. And I want you to want me, and my brain is like reading everything too much. Between the lines, or whatever. I don’t even really watch the movies anymore. I can’t. I’m just thinking and thinking about like oh god, our hands touched, and you did your make up so good and your lipstick is so red and I can’t stop looking at your lips and what if we kissed?”

To stop the flow, Regina answered the question by leaning in. Because she interrupted Emma’s tirade, the kiss was mostly teeth at first, but Emma was quick to shut up.

[peterrparrkerr]

Venom! Spidey - read on ao3

So I didn't realize that this prompt wasn't venomous spidey, it was venom spidey, as in, the symbiote. I didn't realize until I published it on ao3, and I don't really want to re-write this, so uhhhh, I guess this is what it is!

I made this part of the Careful, He Bites and He Bites universe, so hopefully that's fine 😂

*-*

Peter thought killing the avengers would make him feel better about what happened. Revenge usually had such a sweet taste.

But it had been months, and Peter still hadn't felt better. He was left without the one thing that made him who he was. Without his venom, what was Peter?

Tony tried to help. He'd been working nonstop on finding an alternative. A corrective surgery,  an artificial replacement.

Nothing worked.

He didnt let his lack of venom hinder his reputation though. No, he found a new way to hurt people. It made Tony smile.

Peter's fangs were small, tiny and not very damaging when used to bite, but if Peter bit down and shook his head, his fangs cut and tore into flesh.

Peter had found that out in a fit of rage and upset. He had bitten one of Tony's men -he got too close, it was his own fault. He'd bitten down, but didn't feel that rush of venom releasing into his victim.

And he got angry. So angry he bit down harder, ignoring the pain filled scream from the man. He gnawed and shook his head like some feral dog, and managed to sever the jugular.

Peter had never tasted so much blood on his tongue. He nearly choked on it.

Tony was there when Peter spit the man out, had scowled in worry, blue eyes shining bright. He'd taken Peter to their bathroom and cleaned him up.

"My pretty boy," Tony had murmured, wiping the blood from Peter's chin. "Such a lethal thing you are. And all mine."

Peter couldn't help but nuzzle into his hand, wrapping his lips around the meat of Tony's thumb in an open mouthed kiss.

Tony looked on in fondness, cupping his chin. Peter opened his jaw, little fangs biting into flesh.

Tony barely even flinched. Peter released him, scowling down st the puncture wounds quick to heal.

"I'm not as lethal as I used to be," he had sighed.

It had been later that night, when the two were under the covers of their bed, wrapped around each other, that Tony hummed softly.

"Not lethal the way you used to be," he agreed softly into the dark room. "But still lethal, pretty boy."

As time went on, Peter slowly began to accept that he was forever changed. He found new ways to inflict fear in others, and he reveled in the pure feralness of it.

Now, people stayed away from Peter for an entirely different reason. Tony smirked proudly as his men scurried out of Peter's way when he walked into a room. 

"My, what a pretty boy you are," Tony grinned, sitting in the chair behind his desk. Peter strolled right over, situating himself in Tony's lap and pressing a soft kiss to the Superior's pillow soft lips.

"Are you almost done?" Peter asked quietly, mouthing at Tony's jaw. "I'm tired."

"If you're tired then go to bed, pretty," Tony huffed in amusement. He's not afraid of Peter so close to his jugular. It sends a rush of excitement through Peter, and he can't help but bite down on the skin, small fangs puncturing.

He licks the wounds until Tony's skin has netted itself back together.

"I can't sleep without you," Peter confessed, kissing up Tony's jaw again, biting at the hinge as he goes. "Please, Tony, come to bed."

Tony sighs, turns his head in to Peter's so they share a simple kiss, then pulls away. "I'm almost done, pretty."

Peter scowls, but doesn't get out of Tony's lap. Tony doesn't seem to mind though, because he works around him, working on paperwork.

Peter rests his head on Tony's shoulder. He knows Tony loves him. Knows he doesn't think of Peter any differently now that he's venomoid. But that doesn't stop the self depricating thoughts from infesting his mind.

He can't help it. He knows he could be so much more if he were venomous. Knows that before the Avengers, Peter was at his prime.

He doses for a moment, only to stir seconds later to one of Tony's men setting more paperwork in front of Tony.

Peter scowls. Its late. He's tired and he just wants Tony to come to bed.

Peter lunges forward just as the man is retracting his hand, nipping him in his wrist. Its nothing to kill, but Peter needs his displeasure known.

The man yelps and yanks his hand away, eyes wide. Tony laughs, setting his pen down and turning to look at the sulking Peter.

He kisses the furrow of Peter's eyebrows. "I think the rest can wait until morning," he decides.

Peter smiles and nods. The man Peter bit holds his hand close to his chest, complaining lowly.

Peter scoffs inwardly at that. It was barely a knick.

Tony picks Peter up and stands, allowing Peter to wrap his arms and legs around the older.

"You're a naughty thing," Tony scolds fondly as Peter sets his chin on Tony's shoulder.

Peter bites him in retaliation, which only makes Tony laugh. In the bedroom, Tony drops Peter onto the bed and the boy bounces once, grinning as he shimmies out of his clothes and under the sheets.

Tony soon follows, pulling Peter into his chest and pressing soft, sleepy kisses into Peter's cheeks.

They're almost asleep when there's a bounding on the door. Its frantic, and Peter sits up to scowl at it.

Tony grunts, muttering under his breath as he climbs out of bed. "Stay here, pretty."

Peter doesn't follow Tony to the door. Instead, he flops down onto his back with a huff, yawning at the ceiling.

He can hear the quiet murmur of conversation at the bedroom door, Tony's tone angry, but it quickly shifts when the frantic half of the conversation speaks.

Then Tony is striding towards the bed, to Peter's side, and Peter scowls, confused.

He can't read Tony at all as the man sits on the bed beside Peter. He sits up, glancing at the door to see Bruce.

"Let me see your pretty mouth," Tony orders. Peter pulls his eyes from Bruce to Tony, automatically letting his jaw fall open. Tony brings up a petri dish wrapped in plastic, and Peter closes his mouth, glaring at the blue eyed man.

"I told you to leave it, Tony," he nearly growled, old hurt surfacing, deep anger gripping his chest.

He can't help but feel betrayed -even though he knows he's not. He moves to push the dish from him, turning his head, shifting to lay back down.

Tony grips Peter's wrist, keeping him from doing any of that.

"Peter, just humor me," Tony said. No, he pleaded. Peter blinked. Tony didn't plead.

Peter turned to look over at him again, seeing a slight desperation in his blue eyes. It makes Peter hesitate.

He doesn't want to bite into the dish, because he knows nothing will come out. It'll enforce all of his pain and hurt, drag it back to the surface. He doesn't want to do it. Would rather continue living in the acceptance that he's venomoid, and just not think about it ever again.

But he can't say no to Tony. Not after everything he's done for Peter.

Not after rescuing him from both HYDRA and the Avengers. Not after giving him a place to call home, and a reputation to match that of the Superior.

So he sighs and nods. Watches as Tony gives him a small smile and a kiss to his lips.

He brings up the dish and Peter bites into the plastic. He holds for a few seconds before pulling off and licking his fangs -a habit from when he was venomous and would like the left over venom from his teeth.

Tony stands and takes the dish to Bruce, then shuts the door and returns to bed.

"You going to tell me what that was for?" Peter asked, scowling still. Tony wraps an arm around Peter and pulls him into his chest, holding him tightly.

"That man you bit," Tony spoke quietly. "He's showing signs of acute poisoning."

Peter stills, then turns around to face Tony. "What?"

"Bruce is going to run some tests," Tony continued. "I'll take you down in the morning to get looked over."

"What do you mean acute poisoning?" Peter demanded, almost desperate.

Could it be he's grown his glands back? Could that happen? It had been months since the Avengers had made him venomoid.

"He's got respiratory issues and muscle cramping," Tony says softly. "Bruce is going to give him an anti-venom."

Peter doesn't know what to think. Theres a part of him thats thrilled beyond belief that he could be regenerating, but another -much bigger- part refuses to entertain any of this, worried he'll only get his heart broken further.

He doesn't sleep at all that night. Tossing and turning. He can't shut his brain off, and he's impatient in the morning, waiting for Tony to wake up and dress.

The two don't have breakfast. They make their way directly to the medical lab, where Bruce still is, hunched over paperwork and his scope.

"Well?" Tony asked as soon as the two walk in. Bruce jumps and turns to face them. Peter can't help but feel nervous for the answer.

"I'd like to check Peter first," Bruce said, standing up. Peter glances over to Tony, gnawing at his lip. Tony nods to Bruce, hand falling to Peter's lower back and ushering the younger to the exam table.

"Dont bite him," Tony orders when Peter sits. Bruce snaps on a pair of blue latex gloves. "Just in case."

Peter nods.

He opens his mouth and tilts his head back when Bruce instructs him to. He can tell the man is nervous to stick his fingers in Peter's mouth, and in any other setting, Peter would laugh, maybe nip at him just to see him jump away with a yelp.

But he doesnt. He holds his mouth open, feeling latex fingers poke at the roof of his mouth.

"Thats impossible," Bruce says, removing his hand. Peter closes his mouth, frowning at him.

"What is it?" Tony demands. He stands close to Peter, blue eyes shining with intensity.

"His glands seem to be growing back," Bruce says, shaking his head. "I don't know how, but, but they're there."

Peter blinks. He barely has time to speak himself before Tony's prying his mouth open again, tilting Peter's head back to look himself.

Peter grunts at the treatment, mind still spinning with the new information.

Tony presses into the roof of Peter's mouth, and Peter forces himself to feel it. He feels his heart stutter when Tony brushes against two small pockets just behind his front teeth.

They're not as big as before, and probably don't have much kick in forms of venom, but they're there. He can feel them.

Tony smiles down at Peter. "Look at you," he hums, looking so proud and smug. "My pretty boy. Always surprising me."

Peter doesn't know what to say. The sudden balloon of happiness expanding in his chest is almost overwhelming. Peter still doesn't want to trust any of this, but he can't help his tongue from brushing against the small glands, mapping them out.

"How long until they're fully developed?" Tony asked, turning to look at Bruce.

The man gives a small shrug. "Based on the time it took to regenerate, I'd say maybe six months before they stop growing."

Six months. Half a year, and Peter might be back to normal. A giddiness surges through Peter at the thought and he throws himself into Tony's chest, fangs sinking into the meat of his shoulder.

Tony chuckles, wrapping his arms around Peter and kissing his head. Peter holds onto Tony's shoulder, then licks the blood away, only to nip at him again.

Tony chuckles and pulls Peter off the exam table, holding him to his chest as Peter latches onto him with arms, legs and teeth. He can't help the excited biting, or the grin on his face.

"Thanks, doc," Tony calls over his shoulder, heading for the door.

Peter releases Tony's shoulder and pulls back, looking at the man and wiggling excitedly in his arms.

"I'm venomous," he chirps, grin so wide his cheeks hurt. Tony smirks back, leaning forward to kiss at Peter's jaw. Peter's back hits a wall and their lips meet, crotches grinding together.

As the months pass, Bruce checks his progress, takes more venom -which begins to come in a greater, more lethal supply- and feels the glands at the roof of his mouth for his chart.

Tony watches on with a smug smirk on his face, and Peter can't help but mirror it.

[willow-salix]

It’s here, Virgil’s FabFiveFeb

A nice little bit of Virg fluff for @gumnut-logic

"I think he'd like someone that has an interest in creative pursuits," Gordon mused, poking one of the boxes to tick it. 

"And someone that likes to go for walks, you know what he's like for wanting to wander and take in the scenery, maybe even snap some pictures to paint later," Scott added, touching another box to tick it. 

"More of a home body than an adventurer, he gets enough of that with work," Gordon added it to the list. "And they definitely have to believe that family is important, he can't have someone that won't understand his commitments."

"OK, next, all about him," Scott scrolled down to the next section. "His interests…"

"Classical music, obviously."

"Enjoys visiting art galleries and concerts."

"And eating out."

"Don't we all?" 

Gordon nodded at that, there was nothing they liked more than picking up some tasty food. 

"Ideal date? What's that movie he likes? The one with the lake house?" 

"Oh, I know the one you mean, with the…the…" Scott's brain failed to make the connection, romantic comedies were not his thing, that was what Virgil watched with Selene, not him. 

"Doesn't matter," Gordon assured him, brushing it aside. "He liked the date so I'm putting it down. A relaxed stroll along a lake side at sunset," he murmured to himself as he quickly typed it out. 

"That's the one," Scott nodded. "He-" 

"Allie! Have you seen Scott?" The sound of Virgil's voice floating up from the kitchen made them both jump guilty. 

"I think he's in the lounge," Alan shouted back. 

"Shit!" 

"He's coming!" 

"Quick, submit it, submit it!" Gordon smacked at the submit button, growling in frustration when a flashing red 'incomplete field' warning mocked them. 

The sound of steel capped boots thumping up stairs spurred them on. 

"Just tick anything!" Scott yelped, fingers flying as he randomly poked boxes in between Gordon whacking the submit button like it had personally offended him. 

"Yes!" Gordon sighed as the 'congratulations' sign appeared in green. "Done!" 

Scott just had time to hit the x and pull up a report before Virgil strolled his way in. 

"What are you two doing?" he asked suspiciously, stopping dead in the doorway when he was greeted by the sight of the two brothers least likely to be discussing a report seeming to be doing just that. 

"Nothing!" Gordon yelped just as Scott yelled "Reports" which was definitely upping the suspicion levels. He didn't believe them. 

"I don't believe you," Virgil told them firmly, attempting to give them the kind of 'don't lie to me' eyebrow raise that Selene or John managed to pull off but knew he had failed. Damn the fact that he was the nice one and they both knew that any and all threats he might issue would go unfulfilled. 

"You doubt me?" Scott gasped in mock outrage. "Me? Your big brother? The one that always has your back?" 

"And me, your wingman? The one that always fixes your hairdryer fuse?" 

"One time Gordon! That was one time! And it wasn't my hairdryer!" 

"I don't know, you bought it, you keep it in your bathroom and you warned us all that we couldn't borrow it on pain of death, so that evidence all points to it being your hairdryer…" 

"I won't stay here to be insulted," Virgil sniffed indignantly, "I'm gonna go find Kayo and see if she'll help me with the inlet manifold, at least she can take instructions and won't lie to me."

They watched him stomp away in a huff, breathing a sigh of relief when the sound of his boots faded into nothing. 

"Damn, that was close," Scott gulped, clicking back onto the dating website to check it had worked. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"He's got three inboxes already."

"Seriously? Already, it's been what, five minutes?" 

"Yep."

"We’re gonna be spoilt for choice."

"I guess that just means we have more chance of picking him a good one, he needs to get out more."

"He'll thank us for it in the end."

       ***

"I don't understand, why do I have to dress up?" Virgil groaned. "I'm tired, I've had a long day, why do we need to go to the mainland just to pick up pizza?" 

Gordon glanced at Scott for help. None was forthcoming. He nudged him for emphasis. 

"Fine," Scott sighed, admitting defeat. Honesty was always the best policy anyway. "We arranged a blind date for you."

"You did what?" Virgil exploded. "Why the hell would you do that?" 

"We thought you needed to get out more," Gordon shrugged. "We were trying to help."

"I don't need your help, I didn't ask for it."

"Not like you were going to meet anyone on your own, was it?" Gordon continued to needle.

"John did! So did Scott. I am perfectly capable of getting my own dates."

"John is an enigma that none of us understand and Cat's my ex, I was recycling, that doesn't count."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Gordon laughed. 

"My point still stands," Scott insisted waving away the worry about his girlfriend, "we don't have a normal job or the chance to socialise much, and unless fate decides to be nice and throw someone at you like it did for John or you have an ex hidden away somewhere, you can't use us as an example."

"You don't want to let her down, do you?" Gordon tossed in, knowing that his softie brother would feel guilty as hell if he upset anyone. "How would you feel if you got dumped before you'd even met the person?" 

Virgil wanted to argue the point some more, but honesty and his vow never to lie to himself stopped him. They did have a point, a small one, but still pointy and therefore he was unable to ignore their logic. He decided to give in, although he refused to do so gracefully or with any forgiveness of their plotting. Plus, they were right, he wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone feeling like they weren't good enough in any way, shape or form.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice…" he started only to be interrupted by the victorious cheers of his brothers. "Do you have a picture of her?" 

"Nope," Scott grinned. "We signed you up with that new site where pictures aren't allowed, you pick based on shared interests and compatibility, not looks."

"That's…actually a nice idea," Virgil acknowledged reluctantly. He wasn't one to judge people on looks, he cared more about personality and morals. 

"See, we knew you'd approve," Gordon grinned, slapping him on the back. 

"I didn't say I approved of this-" 

"Come on, hurry up, you don't want to be late for your date!" 

   ***

Virgil waited nervously on the picnic bench, clutching the single sunflower Scott had thrust at him like it was a weapon, ready to fend off anything if his blind date turned out to be some kind of psycho.

They couldn't be too careful, they were far too used to people trying to find out details about them or to trick them in some way. No one was ever as they seemed. 

Scott had assured him that they hadn't used his real name and that no one would associate it with him but he couldn't help the little nagging doubts that gnawed away at the back of his mind. 

Plus he still hadn't forgiven them for pulling this stunt on him. Did they really think he was that bad at dating that he needed such help? He wasn't bad at dating, he got plenty of offers for a hook up, they all did. Well, not John but he was hardly ever out on rescues and Selene was common knowledge now but, to the rest of the world, him and his "single" brothers were all fair game. 

Butt gropes and comments about their hard muscles were a common occurrence, so much so that he often felt like a piece of meat being squished and tested before purchase. Another reason why he rarely managed to meet anyone that he could actually see himself wanting to date. 

Maybe their idea, while badly executed and heavy in trickery and taken liberties, hadn't come from a bad place. He'd worried the whole way to the meeting spot that they might have picked the worst candidate they could, but he firmly forced the thought out of his head. His brothers might like to indulge in mutual pranking and to push the limits sometimes but they would never do anything to hurt or embarrass someone, especially not a stranger. The thought had calmed him down enough that he hadn't had to make use of Two's on board bathroom facilities for an emergency freshen up because he'd stress sweated through the nice shirt and jacket they had forced him into. 

He'd managed to relax a little but, now that he was sitting here alone, waiting and looking out for someone he had no clue about, he was starting to worry again. 

Seeing an abandoned pen on the picnic table he snatched a few napkins from the dispenser and let his eyes roam the scenery. 

It really was a gorgeous place, something often referred to as a little slice of heaven in the city. The urban park, man made in the center of the mass of concrete and steel, sported a carefully constructed lake that was home to a teeming ecosystem of endangered species that exhaustive conservation efforts had made possible. 

The sun was just beginning to lower towards the horizon, painting the sky and the surface of the lake with the most beautiful colours. Virgil's fingers itched to paint them but he settled for snapping a couple of pictures on his phone. 

Trees of all types surrounded the lake, creating an attractive backdrop to the whole scene and before he even realised he was doing it he was deep in concentration as he sketched the lake area on the napkin. 

The process was calming, helping to soothe his nerves and slow his thumping heart, allowing him to stop and breathe for a second, helping him to resist the urge to cut and run. 

"Are you Virgil Grant? You have a sunflower." 

The voice behind him made him jump and drop his pen. 

"Yes, yes I am," he admitted as he turned around to face his date. 

      ***

"So, how did it go?" Scott asked when they arrived to pick Virgil up, less than half an hour after he'd text for a ride. "Did you have a good time?" 

"I had a great time," Virgil smiled. 

"You were gone a long time," Gordon grinned, nudging his older brother playfully with his elbow. "Did you go back to her place or something?" 

"Yeah, we did."

"You did? You dog you!" Gordon leered with an exaggerated wink. Virgil just smiled, taking the teasing with his usual good grace. 

"You gonna see her again?" Scott asked, pleased that their plan seemed to have gone so well. 

Virgil nodded. "I told her I'd drop in as soon as I'm free."

"Come on, give us all the juicy details, tell us all about, Emma, wasn't it?" Gordon pushed, desperate for gossip. 

"Nothing much to tell," Virgil shrugged. "She's sweet, we had a nice time hanging out, she gave me her number."

"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Gordon groaned, disappointment evident in his voice. 

"No, that's all I'm going to tell you," Virgil corrected. "You've interfered in my private life enough already, thank you."

"Oh, come on, Virg," Scott pleaded. But the big guy wouldn't budge, staying smugly silent the entire journey home. 

Gordon and Scott had given up by the time they eased the little jet back into the hangar, going off to do their own thing, hopefully to remove his dating profile, leaving Virgil alone. 

Selene and John were cuddled up together on one of the couches, watching something on the holoscreen when he made his way into the lounge. 

He hadn't meant to disturb them, especially when they were actually getting some time alone for once, and was about to make his excuses but Selene had other ideas. She patted the couch beside her, shifting over to make room for him. 

He accepted the offer, sitting down and getting comfortable. He didn't know what they were watching, possibly some kind of documentary. 

"Cookie?" he offered, pulling a baggie of what looked to be pretty decent cookies out of his jacket pocket. 

Selene glanced up from the screen, looking first at the bag of cookies and then at Virgil, her eyes widening in surprise. 

"You're all dressed up."

This got John's attention as he reached for a cookie. "Have you been somewhere?" 

Selene selected a cookie and took a big bite. "Oh, damn, these are so good, where did you get them?" 

"My date made them for me," Virgil grinned, consuming almost half a cookie in one bite. 

"Wait, wait, back up, date?" Selene actually paused the documentary, something about William Shakespeare by the looks of it. 

"You had a date? That wasn't on the calendar?" John frowned. "Were they cleared by security?" 

"The romance is strong in this family," Selene drawled, rolling her eyes. 

"Scott and Gordon decided that signing me up to dating sites is their new hobby," Virgil sighed. 

"They arrange the date? What were they like? Did you have a good time? Witchy needs details," Selene gently shoved John's face away from her as he chewed loudly in her ear and leant closer to Virgil.

"We actually had a nice time. Emma, my date, is a local, lived there all her life. She's been a bit lonely so her friend set her up on the site. We wandered around a lake for a bit and then we went back to her place."

"Awww, so romantic," Selene sighed dreamily before mock glaring at her husband. "Why don't you take me on dates any more?" 

"Because we only got back off our honeymoon a few weeks ago and we live on an island?" 

"No excuse."

"Dinner on the mainland next week?" 

"Thought you'd never ask," she stole a quick kiss as he rolled his eyes in defeat. "Got any pictures?" 

"Of the restaurant? Are you needing to inspect my reservation making skills now?" 

"I was talking to Virgil."

"Oh, then carry on."

"Virg, pictures?" 

"I did take one, yes," he pulled out his phone, scrolled through for a couple of seconds then turned the phone to show them the screen. "I took a selfie of us at the lake." 

Selene and John blinked, unsure if they were seeing the right picture. 

"Erm… not to be a judgey judgerson or anything but…" Selene trailed off. 

"But she has to be older than Grandma," John finished for her, blunt and to the point as always.

They both looked at the picture again, showing a goofily grinning Virgil next to a sweet older lady, her blue rinsed hair set in a helmet of curls, her half moon glasses perched on her nose. 

"Again, not with the judging, you do you, but does she have to watch her heart? She needs to be careful if she's going out picking up handsome young men."

"Stop, please stop," Virgil groaned. "She didn't know how old I was. Gordon and Scott set it up and apparently they somehow, and I choose to believe it was unintentional, managed to upload my profile to the over 60s side."

"And you didn't correct her?" John had to ask. He knew his brother was the nice one of the family but that was a little ridiculous. 

"Of course I did, but we were there and she hadn't been out in a few weeks. Her grandson moved away for work and her husband died a few years ago so I bought her dinner and we had a nice walk around the park. She wasn't actually looking for a romantic date, she just wanted a companion, someone to chat to, go for a walk with and maybe see an exhibition or two. Her friend at the widows club set it up for her."

"So you were both set up by others?" 

"Yep. She's a really nice lady."

"And that walk around the park turned into cookies at her place?" John's fingers snuck into the bag again to take another. 

"And banana bread. She mentioned that she was going to hire a handyman to fix her sink because her daughter was too busy and she didn't have any help now."

"Ahhh," Selene could see exactly where this was going. 

"And so I offered to unblock her sink for her."

"Of course you did," John sighed, hiding his smile against Selene's shoulder. 

"And while I was there I put up some new shelves for her and took her trash cans out to the kerb and retuned her TV. She made me cookies to say thank you."

"She sounds lovely," Selene cooed, already in love with the thought of her. She could take or leave it when it came to little kids, usually leave if she was being honest, but she was a complete suckee when it came to the elderly. 

"She is, smart too. I complimented some of the paintings she had on her walls and she told me she'd painted them, her and her husband met at art school and used to go on vacation to different countries to visit galleries and take classes. I showed her a few pictures of some of my pieces and it turned out she'd seen one of mine in a gallery in New York, you know that one of the Sphinx I did from that picture I took after that rescue?"

"Do I take it that our darling brothers don't know any of this?" 

"Nope," Virgil grinned. "I'm letting them stay curious, they asked me all sorts of questions on the way back but I stayed quiet. I'll tell them eventually, once all the cookies are gone." He picked another out of the rapidly depleting stash. 

"I have never heard a more Virgil story in my entire life," Selene laughed, shaking her head. "So when are you seeing her again?" 

"Gonna try and visit next week to mow her lawn," Virgil admitted, looking somewhat sheepish. 

"Hey, no," Selene grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "No looking embarrassed. You're amazing, it's a totally you thing to go on a date, not get what you were expecting and still come away with an old lady best friend and having had a great time. That's one of the many reasons I love you, because you're just so you."

"She's right," John added, patting his brother's shoulder. "One thing I've learnt the last few years is that you shouldn't make excuses for who you are or try to change. Don't belittle the fact that you have probably made her happier than she has been in months just by giving her some time and treating her with respect. Don't undervalue that."

"Yeah," Virgil acknowledged. "I know I did the right thing, it doesn't hurt to help someone and I had fun too." 

"And that's all that matters," Selene said, patting his hand one last time before she let it go. 

"Yep," he smiled, settling back against the cushions, munching on his cookie, his cheeks bulging like a hamster's, muffling his words. "That and the fact that her granddaughter is a nurse and she's going to introduce us next month."

[bubblesuga]

Oblivious To Adoration - 3

Summary: After an intense night of drunken sex, Jungkook realizes he wants more. When he suggests an idea to you, you were shocked. However, who were you to say no to Mr. Jeon Jungkook?

W/C: 2,394

Prev Part - Next Part

Warnings: angst, mature language, mentions of sex

Panic coursed through your veins while you quickly climbed off of Jungkook’s lap. You were furious, more at yourself than anyone else because you let yourself get caught up in Jungkook without realizing just how public this parking lot was. 

“(Y/N), I-” Jungkook starts, watching while you struggle to clean yourself up as best as you could in the small space of the passenger seat. 

“What the fuck was Namjoon even doing here?” You yell out to no one in particular, crossing your legs and resting your head in your hands. Jungkook carefully zips his pants back up, reaching forward to put a hand on your knee. However, you were quick to move away from him. The last thing you wanted was to be touched right now. 

“I know he moved into his own place a few weeks ago. I didn’t know it was here,” Jungkook sighs, swallowing the hurt as he sees you curl your legs to your chest, “I- I’ll talk to him.” 

“What good is that gonna do? He already saw us fucking. God damn it this was exactly what I was afraid of.” You speak the last bit quietly, feeling frustration fuel your words. 

You already could tell what people’s opinions were going to be when you started this arrangement so that’s why you pushed so hard to keep it a secret. You could already sense the judgement radiating off of Namjoon. What would he think of a girl who’s using her best friend for her own personal pleasure?

“Baby...” Jungkook whispers, “it’ll be okay.” He was careful to keep his hands to himself, watching you warily. 

“No you don’t get it, Jungkook,” you speak softly, pushing a hand through your hair while you tried desperately not to let the frustration build into tears, “I’m already the only female in a group of friends. I already get comments thrown my way about how I ‘probably already fucked half of them’. I didn’t want- I don’t want people to think badly of me.” 

Jungkook takes a deep breath of understanding. That had never been a concern of his, about having other people speak badly of him. He remembers Jimin praising him when he found out Jungkook finally had the balls to ask you.

He gnaws at his lip, “You can’t let other people’s opinions stray you away from what you want to do.” 

“Easy for you to say,” you laugh bitterly, “you don’t get called a whore for having friends that are girls.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. But do you really think Namjoon would think any less of you because you and I are having sex?” Jungkook questions, turning towards you in the car. You loosen your posture, pondering over the question. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Yes you do, no one is going to think any less of you just like they won’t think any less of me. Fuck everybody else, the only people whose opinions matter are yours and the people you love.” Jungkook was upset now. The fact that you thought so highly of other people’s opinions was news to him, he didn’t think that you’d ever have to worry about what other people would say. 

You look over to Jungkook, feeling your anxiety ease slightly, “When did you get so poetic, Kookie?” You reached over and ran your fingers through his hair, seeing his eyes flutter at the contact. 

He gives you a sad smile, leaning into your touch, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay, thank you.” You whisper, leaning forward and giving him a kiss. You hesitated before making contact, but decided you needed it. He smiles into the kiss, a soft and delicate peck that was much different to your previous kisses, but it felt right. 

As you pull away you open your eyes to see Jungkook’s eyes still shut, his lips still puckered. Slowly, he opens his eyes and watches you carefully. You nod, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

“Do you want me to walk you inside?” 

“I’ll be good. Text me when you want to hang.” You nod, patting Jungkook’s thigh while you open his door. Giving him a pat on his thigh, you climb out of the car and quickly walk towards your building. Hearing Jungkook’s engine roar to life, you turn back and wave to him as he drives away. 

As soon as you see him turn the counter, you pull out your phone and call Namjoon. 

He answers quickly, “Hey (Y/N), what’s up?” 

“Where’s your apartment?” You speak quickly, looping your bag haphazardly over your shoulders while you walk through the breezeway of your building. Namjoon chuckles on the other end, his cocky persona evident in just his laugh. You resist the urge to glare at your phone, waiting somewhat impatiently for the answer. 

“What? You and Jungkookie looking for a third party?” 

“Namjoon.” 

“Alright, Jesus,” you had a certain tone you’d use on him when he was being particularly difficult, “Building 3, Apartment 208.” 

As fast as you could, your feet carried you through the apartment complex until you reached building three. Rushing up the stairs, you ball your fist and begin to pound on the door. It takes way too long for your patience and you open his door, letting yourself in. 

“Namjoon, come to your living room!” You call out, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Namjoon walks out of his kitchen and stands in front of you a smirk across his smug face. You roll your eyes, “Listen, can you-” you suddenly realized exactly what he saw, and your face goes bright red, “can you just keep what you saw to yourself?” 

“Oh believe me, I won’t tell a single soul, Miss (Y/L/N). That image is going to stay,” he taps a finger against his temple and winks, “right up here.” 

“Don’t be weird. Seriously, this stays between us.” 

“Why don’t you want anyone to know? Y’know, I’m surprised it took the two of you this long to start dating. I figured Jungkook would have admitted he liked you ages ago.” Namjoon says, shrugging while he leans against the wall beside his TV. 

You raise an eyebrow, your throat going dry at Namjoon’s words. Jungkook doesn’t like you like that, that’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t want to actually date you. 

“He doesn’t like me like that.” You say incredulously, tapping your foot while you feel your eyes staring through Namjoon. 

“Obviously he does, otherwise he wouldn’t be boning you like that.” Namjoon gestures wildly, as if he wasn’t giving you information that would both flutter your heart and implode your brain. With a few short sentences, Namjoon had flipped your entire interpretation of this situation with Jungkook completely upside down. 

“Wait,” Namjoon tears you out of your thoughts, “if he didn’t tell you he likes you, why were you guys fucking in his car?” 

“I feel like that’s none of your business.” 

“I feel like it is,” he laughs, “I heard you moaning from a mile away.” 

You swallowed, “Jungkook and I just wanted to have some fun for the summer. Then when classes start back up it’s done, we’re done.” 

“Good luck with that,” He snorts, shaking his head, “don’t you like him too? Why else would you agree to fuck him?” 

“Jesus, Namjoon can we stop using such vulgar language when talking about this?” you cringe inwardly at the bluntness of Namjoon. Even two years into this friendship you still had yet to get used to it. 

“Answer the question.” 

Looking up at the ceiling, you press your hands against your forehead to try and subdue the quickly forming headache. Namjoon stood in front of you patiently, his hands now folded behind his back while he waits for you to sift through your thoughts. 

Interestingly enough, you weren’t sure what to say. Telling Namjoon that you loved Jungkook more than a friend, especially after everything that happened, could be bad. It could throw off the whole group’s dynamic, and if for some reason you and Jungkook didn’t work out, you didn’t want to be the one to ruin it for everyone. 

One the other hand, it could work out. You and Jungkook could be happy together, and everything you dreamed about could work out for the best for everyone. You were both adults, and you could learn to navigate this new plane of existence together. But you were scared. So damn scared at potentially ruining your friendship. You’d rather have Jungkook as just a friend than not have him at all. 

“I love him.” You settle with, watching Namjoon’s expression warily. 

He grins, “Thought so.” 

As you were about to retaliate with something snarky, Namjoon’s phone rings.

He reaches into his pocket and stares at the screen, “Speak of the devil.” 

Jungkook’s name stretches across the screen, and Namjoon laughs at your expression while he slides to answer, immediately pressing the speaker button. You keep your hands over your mouth to try and silence yourself as much as possible, Namjoon’s grin widening. 

The smug bastard was enjoying being in on this secret. 

“What’s going on?” Namjoon answers, holding the phone in between the two of you. 

“Hey, can we talk about what you saw back there? (Y/N) would really prefer that no one else knew.” Jungkook’s voice was soft, concerned. It made your heart flutter. You looked at him in such a different light now that you had been so intimate with him. 

Namjoon looks at you, eyebrow raised, “Why’s that?” 

“Something about not wanting to be seen as promiscuous,” Jungkook explains, “I don’t want to upset her, so please don’t tease her or whatever you plan on doing. Please.” 

His sincerity struck a cord with you, and you realized just how much he cares about you. You smiled underneath your hands, but it quickly dropped when Namjoon met your eyes. 

“Well who else knows so I know who I can slip up in front of?” Namjoon asks, looking at you. 

‘No one’ you’re about to mouth towards him, but Jungkook stops your movements, “Jimin, but that’s only because this was his idea. I’m pretty sure Tae has an inkling because he almost caught her leaving the apartment.” 

Your eyes go wide, and Namjoon holds back a laugh, his jaw dropped in a wide grin. Before you could silence yourself, you yell, “What?!” 

“(Y/N)?!” Jungkook’s voice was so loud the speaker cut out momentarily, “What are you doing at Namjoon’s-” 

“The same thing you were, dickhead. When did you plan on telling me that Jimin knows about us?” You grab Namjoon’s phone out of his hand, seeing him throw his hands up in question. You put up a finger and turn off the speaker, putting the phone to your ear. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Jungkook answers truthfully, “I didn’t want you to know that I had to have a friend convince me to ask you to have sex with me.” 

“But if you knew from the beginning that I didn’t want anyone to know, why wouldn’t you tell me then?” You ask, watching Namjoon wave you off and turn around, letting you speak to Jungkook privately. 

“I thought that would be an issue.” Jungkook seemed defeated. 

“It is an issue. What happened to talking about the issues we have to make this work?” You try your best not to let your anger get the best of you. It was a complicated situation for the both of you, and if you were being entirely honest you shouldn’t have been surprised that Jungkook asked advice from one of his hyungs. It wasn’t unlike him to talk openly about his sex life with his friends, even you. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I- I just really wanted this to happen between us.” 

“Why?” You press. You had to hear him say it, to either deny or confirm what Namjoon said. 

“Because ever since you walked me into that bedroom and kissed me, I’ve been a fucking mess. I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel, in both ways. I love when you’re around me and I can’t help but want you around me all the time, in more ways than just as a friend,” Jungkook spoke fast and his stutter had completely diminished, “fuck, (Y/N). I want you, all of you. I want to wake up beside you and make you breakfast, I want to walk you to class and have the whole campus know that you’re mine and only mine. Ever since I met you I’ve wanted more and after that night, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You feel your blood run cold as he finishes his speech, your ears ringing while you became completely overwhelmed at the words Jungkook was using. It was everything you wanted to hear yet you know it’s only the circumstances that made him tell you. You couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would have taken him to tell you had he not been pushed. 

“Okay.” You whisper, forgetting you were in Namjoon’s apartment entirely. It was like the Earth had melted around you and you weren’t sure whether or not to cry of happiness or frustration. 

“Okay? Is that all you have to say?” Jungkook’s tone was incredulous. 

You don’t respond. 

“(Y/N)...I just poured my heart out to you.” Jungkook says after a few beats of silence. His tone had shifted, and you could tell he was upset. You didn’t want to upset him, but you felt numb. Like the whole world had frozen and all you could hear was the soft breathing on the other end of the line from a man who’s heart is about to get crushed. 

“I’ll call you when, uhm- when I can think straight. Does that sound good?” You let him down slowly, not wanting to hurt him. 

“O- okay.” He sniffles, your heart breaking while you end the call. 

Namjoon steps out of the kitchen, walking towards you when you reach your phone out to him. “Everything okay?” 

“Uh, yeah. It will be.” You say softly, giving Namjoon a tight smile. Namjoon nods, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Of course, Joonie.” You stand and pat his head, thanking him for allowing you to use his phone then walk out the door, beginning the long descent down the stairs and towards your apartment. 

[prose-for-hire]

A Halloween of Horror

Pairing: Buffy Summers x vamp!reader

Request: Hi, can you do a Buffy x reader one shot for Halloween where the reader is turned into a vampire but they keep their soul for some reason and they're freaking out, with the quotes "I can't be a vampire! I'm a fucking vegetarian!" And "Would you fuck a vampire?" By the way this Halloween is gonna be the best with your writing to look forward to

Requested by: Anon - I hope this is what you wanted love 🖤🦇

Warning: Swearing. Implied alcohol consumption I guess(?). Reader is distressed having heard they’re a vampire. Little heated kissing. 

The last thing you remember was Halloween. A fun party with your girlfriend. She had been so excited for a night off and surprisingly upbeat about Halloween this year. Maybe it was because you loved it so much. She had enjoyed it because you had. She even dressed up which had made you grin. You and her danced, laughed with your friends and couldn’t stop smiling at each other. You and her felt so lucky and so in love. You had felt on top of the world that night. Everything had just felt right. Until it didn’t…

There had been a vampire. A chase. And a bloody fight. But you couldn’t remember any of that. There were some quick flashes, but mainly nothing.

You woke up with your head banging, your brain rattling around your skull. It felt like the worst hangover of all time. You felt as if you had been dug up, it was horrible. You opened your eyes, but closed them again as quickly. The light from the lamp, although dim to anyone else, was ridiculously bright. You almost hissed at the light source. As if you hadn’t seen any sort of light in a very long time.

The only saving grace was that when you eventually got used to the light, your girlfriend was lying in bed beside you. A scene you always enjoyed waking up to. Buffy was on her side stroking your face softly. Her face was laced with concern as she waited for you to speak. You struggled at first, having to clear your throat, but finally managed to ask, “Do you have any painkillers? I have the worst headache-” you squint, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“D’you feel any… different?” Buffy asked slowly, looking into your eyes the worry making you frown. You forehead felt stiff, as if there was something stuck on it. Or welded onto it. You moved your hands to feel your forehead and you gasped. Your skin was wrinkly and swollen. You panicked, moving to the mirror on the wall to see the damage. You must have fallen and hit your head while you were drunk – you couldn’t remember anything from that night.

When you made it to the mirror, only now seeing Buffy’s worried face because your reflection wasn’t there. She was walking behind you, reaching to rub your back. You felt it, but in the mirror she was just moving her hand in mid-air. It finally dawned on you, “I’m dead!” You screamed, turning at her with your eyes wild. Your hands flew back to your face, feeling around in horror.

“Just a little…” Buffy said softly walking up to you and taking your hands in hers. She held both of your hands, helping you drop your hands from your face slowly. You clasped your hands tightly to hers as you tried to calm down.

“Vampire?” You asked slowly. It was all coming back to you. 

The ugly clown mask you had laughed at. The figure pulling it off and running after you through the streets before Buffy turned and decided to fight. Expecting the man to be human, so she could just scare him. But this wasn’t the case. She fought, kept her peripheral vision on you. You had injured your ankle in the chase. The vampire seeing the way Buffy cared for you over caring for the fight. The vampire knew what to do. Managing to distract Buffy away from you. He gave you no choice. He told you to drink. And you did. You were confused, in pain. You would have done anything to take that pain away. The last thing you remember was staring up at the Halloween themed fairy lights before everything went black.

“Yep, looks like” Buffy said softly, rubbing her thumb over your hand. She knew what this meant.

“Oh shit, I’m evil aren’t I?” You said suddenly, dropping your hands from hers, not allowing yourself the comfort. You frowned, “Why aren’t I dust!?” you asked accusingly, as if she hadn’t done her job properly.

“You’re not evil!” Buffy said firmly. Her conviction almost made you shiver but you were still scared. Worried you would hurt her. Repulse her.

“How can you be sure?! And don’t give me the ‘I’m a slayer I just know’ bullshit!” You warned as she opened her mouth to tell you that she was a Slayer, so she just knew. You were starting to spiral and she was trying her best to calm you as you continued to speak, “Why aren’t I evil and sucking your blood!? Should I be doing that? Shouldn’t I be able to fight really good now?” You punched into the air and Buffy easily reached out and blocked your fist, wrapping her hand around yours. You loosened your hand slowly, allowing her to hold your hand properly, weaving her fingers between yours comfortingly.

“Slow down, you’re givin’ me monologue whiplash. It’s gonna be okay. Giles says it’s gonna be an adjustment but- you have a soul, y/n” Buffy explained, before insisting, “You’re still you”

“Should I change my name? Should I be Y/n the Fangy now or something?!” You said quickly, you were still getting used to the idea of being dead. It was scary.

She calmed you down for a moment and you melted into her side as she slowly rubbed her hand up your back, whispering soft reassurance. You leaned against her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She kissed your forehead and you tried to relax.

But you couldn’t.

Everything had just turned upside down, "I can't be a vampire! I'm a fucking vegetarian!" You suddenly shout, the panic rising in your voice, “I- what do I eat?!”

“Hey, y/n-” She started, but you had zoned out. You were concerned. You could already feel the gnawing hunger every time you smelt her scent. A scent that had only meant love and safety before now would always have the underlying guilt attached to it. You loved her and the last thing you ever wanted to do was hurt her.

You crouched on the floor, your head in your hands. This thought brought on another wave of fear. You became upset again, your eyes watering. Tears running down your cheeks that you had desperately been trying to fight.

Buffy crouched beside you slowly, her hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort. You couldn’t stop sniffling as your tears dried up. Still completely at a loss as to what your life, or un-life, was going to be like now. She waited as you dried your eyes, looking back at her.

“You’re all soul-y and good. You’re like you, but… different. You’re not gonna lose me, I promise” She whispered. She knew you so well, you had been concerned. I mean, she was a slayer. You were worried you would lose her. That she would find you repulsive.

“You really promise?” You asked slowly and she smiled, nodding. You smiled briefly but then your face dropped. There was one thing you were terrified of the most. Your brow furrowed, your lip shaking as you willed yourself to ask. You squeezed your hand softly, nodding that it was okay to ask whatever it was. That she was right by your side, “W-would you fuck a vampire?” You asked, sniffing slightly. You had whispered the question in your concern. She laughed slightly, shaking her head. That was what you were so worried about. Your relationship with her. She rubbed her hand up your arm tenderly.

“It has been known and widely recorded in the Buffy history books” she confirmed.

“Now?” You asked, a coy smile now on your lips as she rolled her eyes. But she knew in some sense you needed to feel her touch. Feel human again. She smiled, pulling you into her. Her lips met yours instantly, a heat rising in a way that you had worried would never appear again. Your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her flush against you as she ran her hands along your body. 

You kissed down to her collarbone, keeping your mouth busy. Making sure she felt good. You kissed along her soft skin, up her neck. Paying extra attention as she sighed softly against you. Her hands were still roaming as you kissed sloppily in desire. You spent a little too long kissing her neck and she had to direct your head back to her lips.

You smiled into her neck as she rolled her eyes. You felt the love in every action, despite the change. She guided your lips to hers again and pulled you towards her bed. A place you were always welcome.