#this is the second time I’ve seen art of time dying and written a fic inspired by it lol

[adrift-in-thyme]

@krissis-averted you know when I said this art had given me serious brainrot? Well…

This gorgeous, painful piece wouldn’t leave me alone so I wrote a little something inspired by it. I hope you don’t mind

CW for major character death and blood/injury

————————————

It is cold.

For some strange reason that is the thing his mind has chosen to fixate on. Out of everything else. The pain and the blood and the dread of death — it all seems to pale in the face of the cold.

It feels like Snowhead, Time thinks dimly. Or perhaps, like Zora’s Domain did when it was turned into a frozen tundra.

He coughs. Blood splatters into the snow.

The wolves surrounding him prowl closer, growls deepening. They sense weakness. They smell death. He cannot bring himself to care.

They have already torn him apart, ripped a hole in his abdomen, scattered his blood across the frozen ground. What more can they do?

He raises his head, with an effort, peering up at the crimson moon shining above them. It looks like the Blood Moon from Wild’s Hyrule. But it can’t be. He is not in Wild’s Hyrule.

Regardless, he hates it.

Usually such a sight fills his heart with dread. Now, it only seems to mock him.

I have won, it says. At last, I have won.

He lets his head droop again. Somehow, the crimson snow is easier to look at than that cursed thing in the sky.

A shiver runs through him. More of his life force drains away, soaked up eagerly by the unforgiving ice. Time drags in a breath.

He should rise, he should walk, attempt to find some way back to the camp, back to the warmth and company of his brothers, back to the ranch where Malon waits to welcome him home. He longs to do so. But he lacks the strength to move.

One wolf drifts towards him, eyeing him with something like curiosity. Perhaps, it is wondering how he is still breathing? Perhaps, asking how he got into this situation in the first place?

The Hero of Time, felled by a pack of common wolves. Time laughs and the sound is a bitter choked thing, soaked in sorrow.

It had not been so simple as that, however.

He had been wounded when he had fallen upon these icy slopes, plunging through one of the Shadow’s many portals. And when he had risen, dizzy from blood loss, weak with fatigue, and lacking either of his two prized swords…the wolves had been here to greet him.

His fallibility had drawn them like ravenous desbreko.

Wolves are mighty beasts, feral, and brave. But even they cannot resist easy prey now and then. And in the state he had been in, he had certainly been easy prey. Especially to wolves such as these. Though they do not look quite the same as the wolfos in his own era, they had been just as strong.

With their powerful paws, they had pushed him to the ground. With their sharp teeth, they had torn his flesh.

They had stopped only when his breathing became shallow, his vision dull and clouded. They had stopped only when he had stopped trying to fight back.

Perhaps, it just wasn’t fun for them anymore, at that point, no longer the sport they were hoping that it would be. Or…perhaps, these animals possess some strange sort of mercy.

Maybe they had looked at him, pathetic, gasping, and bleeding in a time that is not his own, separated from those he loves…and they had felt pity.

Time blinks, sluggishly attempting to clear his fading vision. The night that had once been so vivid, is now grayish and lackluster. The deep blues of the sky and distant pines, the reflections of navies and crimsons on the snow — none of it seems all that striking anymore.

The wolves’ eyes, however, those terrible blood-red orbs — those are still as piercing as ever. And when the curious one comes even closer, his gore-tinged muzzle almost touching Time’s face, a shiver runs through him.

Though, perhaps, that is only because of the cold.

It is within him now, rather than merely a product of the harsh elements. The fingers of death clutch at his heart. His strength has fled completely.

When he slumps sideways, when his cheek connects with ice, he hardly knows it.

The wolf nudges him. The movement is so different from its vicious attacks previously.

Get up, it seems to say, come on now, hero, rise and soldier on. Your regrets are many. They must be put to rest.

He gazes at the proud beast. It has kind eyes, he can see now, almost like his pup.

How very strange.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Because there is nothing more he can say to those who he loves, those who he is leaving behind.

Those who are far away, unable to hear him.

Time breathes and the exhale is hardly enough to create a cloud in the bitter air.

“I’m sorry.”

…

The wolf remains by his side through the bitter night. It and its brethren stand watch as the Hero of Time grows cold and stiff. As the blood he shed on the icy ground crystallizes beneath the assault of icy wind.

He has perished, after a lifetime of escaping death. But he has not done so alone.

His attackers guard him, never touching his body, never trying to tear the meat off of his bones. They merely remain, stalwart and strong, gazing into the endless expanse of snow.

And when a figure of gold, with a single eye of red, appears as though he is a product of the wind itself…they welcome him as they would their own kin.

Welcome, Hero of Time, they say in the howls that echo into the night. Welcome, hero with the heart of a proud beast. We have waited long for you.

In the shape of one's death

[leprosycock]

drew will always strike me as a poorly concealed pervert who desperately wants to be normal and witty and collected. hes so intelligent and so thorough on things hes passionate about and talks about but when he does shit like talking about how meeting amanda for the first time went well, so he didnt have to murder her, or talking about impregnating her ON CAMERA FOR THE INTERNET TO HEAR, or touching danny every chance hes given whenever theyre together, its so glaringly obvious theres something in his brain that wasnt wired right...... anyways ive reread your drewdan fics religiously and showed your art of them to my boyfriend and we were so fuzzy mushy excited about it <33

NO LITERALLY i have ALWAYS thought that drew is the most blatant lowkey freak i’ve ever seen in my life… the ultimate somnophile in every conceivable way, too much of a pussy to ever physically overpower someone but dying to touch someone without being perceived or noticed so he just has to cringe and hide and absolve himself of guilt in the dark. i constantly think about how drew went immediately from “i would never do the things that are written in this” to “should we act it out? 🫣” in the strangest story on the internet and how easily he slunk into the role of a dom and made himself fill up that space the second that danny started blushing and stammering during the podcast ep with them and then obviously everything during the principal’s office video.. mm. mmmmm much to consider. mmhm.

i’m so glad you liked my fics 😭😭🫶🫶 i always wish i’d done more!! i’m thinking i might draw them again .. idk it’s a weird weird space in my brain rn. deeply weird.

[360iris]

Bloom & brew coffeehouse: lilac & orchid | florist!steven grant x fem bipoc!oc

➸ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 17.3k

➸ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜.

cafe/flower shop AU, strangers to coworkers to lovers, slow burn, found family (steven finds love, marc gets the annoying little sister he never had & jake canonically has only one friend), womanizer!jake lockley, mk system as brothers

➸ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

tw for prescribed meds being shared, alcohol use directly followed by nsfw, steven with a pregnancy kink but who’s surprised?

➸ 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎.

started this in march 2023 and it has legitimately been the fic of the year for me— shae is the most important character I’ve ever written and I hope people might become as fond of her as I am;;; (i lovingly refer to her as a little chaos gremlin) This is a oneshot !!

➸ 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝.

music: shae’s playlist | steven’s playlist

character art: inital design, final design, shae & steven, (+smut)

moodboards: initial concept, final moodboard, all fic headers

part i. late start

day 1.

steven—

Dragging his feet down the corridor attaching the flower shop to The Bloom & Brew Coffeehouse, Steven enters the cafe with his head down, mind racing and stomach empty.

He’d slept in again, and this time was worse than usual, coming in for his shift as the Head Florist working at BB’s a whopping three and a half hours late.

Jake moved around the shops often, handling odds and ends, only to shut himself in the back office to handle placing orders and mull over paperwork nonstop for hours.

As the oldest, he would be unhappy with Steven’s tardiness, but never irate.

The man usually gave his younger brothers more leeway than they often deserved, cherishing what was left of his family the best he could.

Marc on the contrast, even as the second oldest, made his siblings’ problems his own.

The man barely qualifying as congenial on the best of days— but after this morning? It didn’t take a genius to know he’d lose his shit, and that wasn’t a conversation Steven looked forward to having, as he tries to operate at full capacity, on only five questionable hours of sleep.

Raking a hand through his hair, hooking the dark curls between his knuckles and pulling just enough to wake himself up, he paddles up to the register— fully expecting to get an earful the very second he makes it there.

Except that never comes, and when he raises his head, he’s met with an unfamiliar set of dark brown eyes staring back at him.

A young woman was standing behind the counter, no older than twenty, right where Marc usually stood.

With warm beige skin, her charcoal hair was dyed bubblegum pink in sections around her ears and nape, the broad coils braided back into a ponytail of spiraling, chaotic curls pointing in every direction.

A myriad of silver jewelry accented her features. The girl singlehandedly sported more piercings than Steven had ever seen on one person before.

Her septum, cupid’s bow, vertical labret, left brow, nostril, and lip were all pierced— which still only accounted for the one’s on her face. Her ears were even more elaborate in placement.

But despite all of the ornamental modifications, he found that her features still remained soft. Her face appearing youthful, cheeks rounded and chin small.

She was dressed in all black. A plain, short sleeve black tee tucked into matching washed mom jeans, with a small belt clasped at her waist.

He registers the myriad of line art tattoos littering her arms as she leans forward, resting her hands against the counter. Polished sage green nails tapping against the cool surface in short, rhythmic sequences.

The light that glinted in her eyes was playful, bordering mischievous and amused, as she purred out an obligatory greeting.

“What can I get ‘cha, sunshine?” She asked, her voice girlish, with a slight raspy quality to it.

And faintly, somewhere deep inside, he feels a pull.

shae—

Shae locks eyes on his form the second he exits the flower shop.

Watching as his thick fingers dip into his haphazardly styled hair, the coiling strands falling messily along the right side of his forehead.

His face is almost the exact same as the one she’d studied six months ago, when Jake first strolled into her life— as well as the second, she’d seen for the first time last week, when Marc began training her to work at the cafe.

And yet this third variation… Though he shared the same features as his older brothers, he carried them differently.

He was all thick brows and eyes lined with dark circles. Easily appearing as though he were on day twenty-five of running on less than five hours of sleep per night.

His clothes all seemed sized up so that his beige plaid dress shirt, dark denim jacket and light khaki pants slightly hung from his form. The sleeves almost engulfing his hands from how long they were.

His physical appearance very plainly toed the line between thought out and disordered.

Her gaze detaches from his pink cupid’s bow lips, when he makes it to the register, and those chocolatey eyes settle on her.

He looked dazed, brows moving to meet in the middle as he stared.

His mouth opens as though to speak, but no sound comes out, and he blinks back at her owlishly. His mind appearing to have started buffering the second his eyes fix on hers.

“What can I get ‘cha, sunshine?” She greets amusedly, lips pulling into a grin as she taps at the countertop.

He raises his right hand, extending a crooked index finger, when suddenly an arm glides past the left side of her head, extending a capped drink in a thick paper to-go cup towards the man.

“Ignore him, Shae.” Marc speaks up, voice even as he finishes handing over the drink. Pulling open the pastry case in quick succession to retrieve a half banana nut, half blueberry crumble muffin. “He’s a delinquent who sleeps through his alarms, even though I made sure there were a million of them.”

Marc doesn’t offer the baked good just yet. Scrutinizing him with narrowed, judging eyes. “Where were you, man? You were supposed to open the flower shop at seven. What time do you think it is now, Steven? You know, you said you weren’t going to be late anymore.“

Marc’s nagging tirade gets interrupted with a dismissive hand and Steven closes his eyes frustratedly, keeping them shut until he finishes speaking. “Look. Marc, Marc! I know what time it is, I know what I said. You don’t have to get on my case. I’m trying to get a handle on it.”

His older brother glares at him with hooded eyes, holding eye contact as he thrusts the muffin forward with a sturdy fist. Punching through the air between the three of them. “You said that last time, Steven. And you know you’re lucky this wasn’t one of the days Jo visits. Jake and I are sick of coming up with excuses for you.”

Shae watches the interaction with a muted sort of amusement, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth to attempt to hide her growing want to chuckle as Marc continues to nag his younger brother.

Her ears are filled with the sounds of, “You know there’s only so many times we can say you’re taking an early lunch because your head hurts, and you need new reading glasses. She may be old Steven, but she’s not dumb.”

The offending man only answers by dropping his shoulders and bringing a hand to rub across his face, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Really? You’re gonna roll your eyes at me? Sorry… is me caring about what time you make it in to cover your shift bothering you? You know what? Okay. Take your drink, and your muffin, I’m done talking.” Marc says maddened, his Illinois upbringing shining through as the vowels in his words begin elongating— the ‘a’s turning to ‘e’s and ‘th’s getting swapped for ‘d’s.

Marc snatches up a kitchen towel angrily before briskly walking away. Shae watches silently as he all but barges into the kitchen, and she’s left with only Steven as a companion at the counter.

With raised brows, feeling a bit awkward in the silence, her eyes slide back over to him.

He stares at the now swinging kitchen doors with a silent, irritated exhaustion written over his face. His head tilting back as he brings his drink to his lips part way, before suddenly deciding against it and turning to Shae.

“I, Uh. I’m so sorry for making you listen to all of that.” He says, setting his drink and muffin down onto the counter for a moment, as he brings his hands to his face. Shaking his head before dropping his arms weightlessly.

He eyes the counter, looking it over as he thinks before raising his eyes to hers again. “He’s just, well, sometimes he can be a lot.”

“No, it’s okay. I have younger siblings, four of them actually. So I understand how it is.” She replies with a soft laugh, lips forming into a smile, and he does the same thing he had done only moments ago. He stares.

Those dark eyes, hooded and drowned of any light just sort of fix on her face. And suddenly she’s subjected to one of the most unreadable stares she’s ever witnessed. Trying not to fidget under the unexpected coolness of them.

Here he was, the physical embodiment of the word disorderly, seemingly agreeable, but she found him more intimidating than she had Jake initially.

Then again, the brooding man had been cradling a kitten to his chest at the time, and there was a limit to how scary you could be in the presence of such unadulterated cuteness.

Shaking his head slightly, Steven looks down to the counter for just a moment before continuing. “Yeah. Um.” He swallows. “He’s been like that since we were kids. Never really got out of it, I guess. And that’s not to say he was wrong. By any means. I just— have a nasty habit of setting alarms and, um…” His eyes meet hers and he trails off.

“Sleeping through them?” She finishes his sentence for him, chuckling quietly as he nods bashfully.

“Yeah. I do.” He agrees. “They’d actually told me before I left last week that Jake had found someone to give Marc more leeway in the kitchens.” Steven eyes the name tag pinned into her shirt at her left collarbone.

“Shae.. niyah.” He quietly and slowly reads outloud.

“Yeah! Shaeniyah Moswen, at your service. Or should I say The Bloom & Brew’s and its customers service. Seems to me like you’re just freeloading.” She say teasingly, nodding her head towards the drink left to cool on the counter.

“Oh.” He sets a hand down across the cap of the cup. “Yeah. This one is free. But I have to eat multiple times a day so Marc just has Jake take it out of my checks. So I am paying, technically. Just not… you know.”

This causes her to laugh. “Right. Of course Marc has him do that. I mean, this is only the start of my second week, but that just seems like something he’d do.”

“So what do I call you?” Steven asks abruptly, interjecting as he looks at her, in that way, again.

“What do you mean?” She brings her hands to her stomach. Fidgeting with the silver rings on her tattooed fingers, pulling them off, and putting them back on again repeatedly.

“Well. It's just that I heard Marc call you by the first half of your name. But you introduced yourself with your full first. And then there’s your name tag, that has your full first as well. So I was just wondering what to call you? Which do you prefer? Oh bugger, I’m rambling. Um, I’ll… stop.”

“Oh.” She says simply before realizing she hadn’t actually responded to his question.

What could he call her? It was a simple inquiry, but for some reason it made her lower stomach flutter strangely. “I mean… whichever suits you, I guess? You could use either, or neither, to be honest.”

“Neither?”

“Yeah, y’know. That's how nicknames come to be. A person just… comes up with one for you.” She answers, looking down to her hands. Finding it oddly difficult to just be under his gaze for this long. The other guys hadn’t even remotely made her feel whatever this was gradually becoming.

“Just come up with one.” He repeats thoughtfully, “How about… Niyah? Yeah, I think that suits you. Niyah.” When he says it again, softly, placing it on the last wind of his exhale— chills roll down her spine and she’s pulled into a state of inexplicable, momentary awe.

Of this man? Of his strange ability to invoke whatever it was she had inside of her that had been, up until very recently, sound asleep.

Until he showed up, three whole hours late for his shift looking like a scruffy kitten in its first few weeks of life. Not much unlike the ones she fostered in her spare time.

“Niyah. Did you know that in Hebrew, it refers to one’s aim, or purpose? And in Arabic, it doesn’t stray too far from that same thought. It refers to the intention in one’s heart, to do an act for the sake of the Abrahamic God.”

She shakes her head in answer to the short exposition. “No, I've never really looked it up before. My dad told me that my mother just sorta got the thought one day. It was for the name Shea. Just a little zap of an idea really. He said she thought that meant something, so she went with it.”

And he smiles at this, face brightening at being let in on this nugget of information.

However the next wave of customers begins entering, and her eyes drift to the opening front doors distractedly.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll get out of your hair.” He says smiling, gesturing largely at her unruly, winding curls before pointing in the direction of the attached shop. “I’ll be opening the other entrance.”

“Alright, Steven.” She responds, biting her lip to hide her blossoming fondness.

part ii. floating leaf

day 17.

shae—

Wiping her hands dry on the black cotton of her work apron, Shae steps back from the counter. Looking over to Marc as he hands the last four drinks she’d just finished making to their owners.

“I’m heading to lunch now, will you be alright on your own?” She asks, looking up at him from under the brim of her baseball cap.

“Yeah, I got it.” He nods, not bothering to look at her as he starts wiping down his station. Preparing for the next inevitable influx of orders to come.

“You sure?” She double checks, although her fingers are already untying the knot of the belt of her work apron.

“Yeah.” Marc repeats, finally throwing a glance her way. “I’ve been doing this for seven years, most shifts alone. Take your lunch.”

“Okay, okay. I asked if you were good, not for a BB’s employee history lesson, grandpa.” She replies, snickering as he rolls his eyes, seeming mere seconds away from throwing the towel he was cleaning with at her.

She’s hanging her apron behind the counter when she hears another voice speak up.

“You’re going on lunch?” Steven asks, looking at her with curious eyes.

steven—

“Yeah.” Her eyes flicker to his jean jacket in his hands. “Were you about to take yours too?”

Marc wipes the coffee machine down, his eyes snapping from his task to Steven’s face just as his younger brother answers with a jerky nod, and back down when Shae pipes up. “Do you wanna come with? Or...”

“Yeah! Sure. Uh- Where are you headed to eat?” Steven asks, trailing after Shae as she steps from behind the counter, slipping her phone into the back pocket of her dark jeans before walking towards the front door.

“There’s a crepe shop a block away from here, they have a lot of different options. Would that be okay?” She says looking up at him, taking off her cap to run her fingers through loose shoulder-length curls before placing it back on, brim pointed back.

And Steven takes a moment to just look at her.

At the way her earrings glint. And how her eyes light up to a warm brown when the sun shining in from the front windows hits her face at just the right angle.

“Steven?” She’s waiting on him to reply, her hand pressing at the main entrance. “Do you want to go somewhere else for lunch?”

“No! No, crepes sound good. Real... good.” He replies, unintentionally jumbling his response together and effectively managing to sound like a right dunce in his eyes.

Shae only puffs out a laugh, grinning brightly as she leans her left shoulder against the door. “Okay.” Pressing it open with her body weight before walking out into the semi-busy sidewalk.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Have you been to this shop before?” Steven asks, trailing after her as she deftly bobs past different people on the street.

Shae walked with just a bit of pep in her step, visibly thrilled to have an entire hour to spend out of the shop, while still technically on the clock.

“Um. A few times, yeah. My friend, Dean, runs the store a few days outta the week. Everything I’ve tried so far has been good.”

Steven’s eyes drift from her at that detail.

A man…

He guesses he shouldn’t be too shocked at the knowledge of her having male friends, when she’d managed to befriend Jake, of all people. Especially since their peculiar friendship was what had gotten her the job at BB’s in the first place.

“Off topic but I’m still surprised that you managed to become friends with Jake. I mean, he doesn’t make those often— well, at all really.”

Shae snorts, “I’m not shocked that’s the case honestly. The first time I met him, he kept finding ways to turn the conversation around, so he could try to convince me to sleep with him.”

Steven’s eyes widen, amazed at how easily she admits this, her hands tucked coolly into the pockets of her jeans. “He did? That must have been… I can’t imagine how you felt.” He offers sympathetically, though she waves him off with a buoyant laugh.

“I just remember finding the big guy with the scruffy calico kitten sound asleep in the palms of his hands funny. It’s probably why I volunteered to be the one to foster it, instead of one of the usual go-to’s at the shelter. Even then, he only gave me his phone number ‘cause he thought I’d be a future booty call.”

“I’m missing how you could’ve possibly found him funny.” Steven mumbles with knitted brows, undoubtedly looking as confused as he felt.

“I don’t know how to explain it… I just had the feeling there was more to him than he lets on, and I ended up being right. He’s a complicated guy. Anyway, we’re here!”

The second Steven opens the door, allowing for her to step inside first, his ears are bombarded with the sound of a cheery, but loud female voice.

“SHAE-EEEE!” The woman all but screams in the otherwise unpopulated store.

“Hi!” Shae greets her with a laugh, as she’s promptly scooped into the woman’s arms.

“You said you’d ‘stop by soon’ four weeks ago. Is this your version of soon?” The woman prods, holding onto her captive’s biceps as she pulls back just enough to look at her.

She was a tall woman with olive skin and dark curls pulled into a half up, half down style. The tilt in her brows and the tick in her jaw made her appear a touch mean to Steven, but she was very pretty.

Especially with the way she dressed, in a form-fitting sleeveless black top and black faux leather pants that hugged her figure.

“You should see my ‘later’.” Shae replies with a cheeky smirk.

“Knowing you, that’ll probably be a year from now, you brat.”

“Maybe, that’s the fun of it though.” And it’s now that Steven realizes the way the two women look at each other.

The sly, almost giddy smirks. Hands caressing more intimately than was customary, and the way their eyes flitted about the other’s face.

It was like there was an unspoken game to their interaction. Like the way they looked into each other’s eyes, and then down to their lips was communicating something that Steven couldn’t quite hear.

“I brought my coworker with me today.” Shae prompts, turning to where he stood by the door simply observing. “Steven, this is Dean. Dean, meet Steven. I work on the coffee side of the shop his brother manages, and Steven handles the flowers.”

“I wish you’d stop introducing me like that.” Dean says teasingly before turning her attention towards him. Her green eyes are scrutinizing, as though she were picking him apart before he can even speak. “My name is Nadine. I’ve passed by your shop, I’ve never gone in though.”

“Oh you should, when you get the time. My brother Marc makes all the pastries himself, gets up at 2am almost every morning to get in early enough to bake it all. The coffee’s good too.” Steven rambles, feeling exceptionally nervous under Nadine’s obvious inspection of him.

“I’ll take your word for it.” She replies simply, a silence dragging in the air between them.

“Is Layla in today?” Shae pipes up.

“She’s on lunch…”

“In the break room, right? I have to talk to her before she goes out of town this week.”

“So that’s why you came today.” Nadine muses with a sigh, arms folding. “Yes, she’s in the breakroom.”

Turning to Steven again, Shae smiles, pointing towards the back section of the shop. “I’ll only be a minute, do you wanna order? I’ll pay for the both of us when I get back.”

“‘S fine.” He nods as she begins edging away. “I’ll be here.”

“They’re on me. You know that.” Nadine chimes in with narrowed eyes as Shae laughs.

“I have a guest with me, I have to at least appear civil.”

The moment she’s out of sight, the room becomes almost eerily silent, despite the faint music playing in the shop. There’s a brief five seconds where they stand there like that. Quiet, not speaking, before Nadine releases a long winded sigh and finally turns to him.

“What can I get for you.. Steven, was it?” She asks, walking to stand behind the counter.

“Yeah.. um, Niyah mentioned there were vegan options?” He mumbles looking up at the large menu overhead. All of the items were written in chalk on top of an expansive black board.

“Niyah?” Nadine, in the process of washing her hands at the sink, completely freezes.

“Mhm.” He nods, body swaying between trying to appear comfortable and toeing the edge of on alert before she chuckles lowly, focusing on the task of rinsing the soap suds on her skin away.

“Another nickname. Of course.” She muses, drying off her hands.

“Are you two dating? Or… have you dated in the past?” He blurts out finally, unable to keep that question to himself any longer.

Steven swallows thickly when her eyes meet with his but instead of reacting however he assumed she would, she just shakes her head and leans back against the cabinets behind her.

“No.” She answers simply. “Are you?”

“No.” He replies, blinking at her. Making her laugh dryly.

Zero humor appears on her face, or in her voice.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

And the comment makes him bristle.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She corrects, a speck of light dawning in her eyes from whatever it was that she’d come to believe, in that second that they shared. Related in. “It’s just that, that’s how it usually is with her. Isn’t it?”

And he isn’t sure about her meaning, and it feels yet again like there’s a conversation he isn’t all the way in on. “ What do you mean by that?” He asks uneasily.

But then the door to the backroom opens and Nadine pretends that the question never left his lips.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

With their respective crepes in hand, under Shae’s suggestion, the pair makes a detour into a nearby park. Shae instantly gravitating towards a small family of ducks slowly wading through the corresponding pond.

She kneels at the edge of the bank, cooing affectionately when three ducklings divert from their mother to quack up at her from the water.

“They’re so cute. Don’t you think, Steven?” She asks just as the yellow feathered trio rejoin their group.

“They are.” He nods, crepe in hand. Tracing the outline of her face with his eye, from her lashes, to her nose and lips.

At this moment, she didn’t seem complicated. Like an inside joke he didn’t have all the context to.

She was just herself, and he was content with whoever she proved herself to be.

When suddenly a rampant streak of blonde dashes up behind her and presses its front paws against her back with all its strength.

Shae gets knocked off her balance, unable to hold herself up in her current stance, and subsequently falls forward into the water at the edge of the bank with a huge harumph, as Steven watches on in shock. Eyes wide, his lips part before his feet break into action.

shae—

She’d managed to turn mid descent, falling on her left hip, instead of face first into the murky water. Her right arm remains extended, ram straight into the air.

Her mind somehow moving quick enough to save her strawberry mango crepe from becoming drenched duck food, but not fast enough for her to save herself from getting soaked head to toe.

Suddenly Steven’s by her side, heaving her up gently with one surprisingly strong pull. He gets her on her feet again easily, and though her ears register the profuse apologies from the golden retriever’s owner—all of her attention is focused on the man in front of her.

He holds both of her biceps, anchoring her as she looks up at him with wide eyes and parted lips sucking in a shaky inhale.

She’d never been so… close to him before.

Close enough to see each little stubble on his chin, to really appreciate the color of his lips, and the scent of his cologne.

Steven smelled distinctly like… matcha? Like bergamot and sweet orange flowers, with a hint of white chocolate shining through.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” He asks, brows moving to meet in the middle as Shae blinks up at him dazed.

Slowly, her head turns down, lifting her shirt up to get a decent look at her side.

A red bruise had already begun forming above her left hip where she’d fallen into the rounded rocks. Though nothing felt broken, it would undoubtedly take a few weeks to heal.

The spot was bound to get worse and more tender to the touch before it got any better, but it didn’t seem like anything to write home about.

Swallowing shallowly, she releases her soaked shirt and looks back up at him just as he begins ducking forward. Causing her muscles to lock, and breath to hitch as he edges closer and closer, ultimately bringing a hand to her hair.

Pulling back, he produces a brown leaf. Having detangled it from her curls, he holds it up for her to see, his lips pursing into a pout as he speaks. “Leaf.”

“Hm.” She answers weakly, catching his eye before speaking. “Marc’s going to fucking kill me.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Marc and Steven’s place is the closer alternative to bothering in going all the way home to change, before returning to work.

It was intended to be a quick stop, to allow Shae to take a shower and grab a change of clothes— nothing special.

And she hadn’t known what to expect, but as Steven opens the front door revealing a spotless apartment, painstakingly cleaned from top to bottom, she thinks that it certainly wasn’t this.

It even smelled amazing. Notes of bay, rosemary and lemon in the air.

“Wow.” Shae remarks in amazement, stepping further inside, allowing Steven to close the door behind her.

“This is... all Marc.” He admits, moving away from the door and making a right turn down a hall near the front entrance.

From where she stood, still dripping on the welcome mat, she could overlook the living room and kitchen easily.

The surrounding area wasn’t overwhelmingly spacious, but it wasn’t exactly small either.

There was enough room in the lounging area for an entertainment center, a nice coffee table and a modest, sectional couch. A sprawling bouquet of goldenrods glowed in the middle of the dark wooden dining table, the yellow flowers stretching out beautifully in the low light.

From down the hall, Steven flips on a light, the warm glow spilling out in an encompassing cone.

Some rustling could be heard. The loud clatter of a closing cabinet, and then suddenly he was bustling back out to the edge of the hall.

Steven looked around, only to find her where he’d left her, small droplets falling from her clothes and wetting the welcome mat in odd succession.

“Oh, right.” He nods, walking closer to her with an outstretched hand. “I’ll get you a towel, yeah? Here’s something for the pain, I usually take them for my migraines, but I think anything is better than nothing. Looked like that fall hurt quite a bit.” —depositing a white, oblong pill into her clammy palm.

Shae stares at it for a moment before looking up at him. “What is it?”

“Naproxen. Same as the over the counter kind, just a higher dosage. You don’t have to take it. I just thought-“

“This is fine.” She interrupts softly, the pair staring at each other before she adds. “Do you have any water that I can take this with?” And he nods quickly, moving into the kitchen and retrieving a bottled water from the pantry.

“And a towel..” He mumbles to himself after handing over the bottle, shuffling down the hall once again. Only to paddle back with a large yellow towel in his arms.

“Thanks.” Shae replies hoarsely, tilting her head back and swallowing the pill whole with a mouthful of water.

“Mm-hm.” He nods reassuringly, staring, again.

“...which bathroom can I use?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

steven—

The next time Steven hears the bathroom door open, he’s hunched over a basket of clean, but unsorted clothes.

Trying his best to differentiate the long-sleeve dress shirts from the plain, white tees and tangled pajama pants when Shae calls him from the hallway. Wary to poke her head into the room without announcing herself first.

“I’m in here!” He answers, unraveling another infuriating ball of shirts, brows knitted in the middle.

“What are you doing?” She asks, stepping past the threshold and immediately understanding what he’d meant when he’d stated that the state of the living area was all Marc’s doing.

Steven’s room was a seemingly functioning mess of dark wood and potted plants fitted anywhere vast towers of stacked books, clothes and various thrifted items weren’t already occupying.

It took all of a second for her to completely understand that he’d had no part to play in the enchanting and soothing nature of the first room. Save perhaps, picking out which plants were accented strategically throughout it.

“Well, I’m trying to find you something to wear. These are all clean…” —his words trailing off as he looks behind himself to find her with only a towel wrapped around her. “...by the way.”

“I can help.” She offers, her dark eyelashes fluttering softly as she blinked down at the pile, moving to kneel beside him without any further discussion.

Steven tries not to stare. He tries.

But in the end, his eyes make a deal with his brain to settle for ogling the more appropriate zones.

Like her arms, discovering new tattoos he hadn’t been able to see before under the shirts she wore for work. And the slope of her neck, tracking a few odd droplets which rolled across her skin.

His attention shifts towards her hands, small and soft. And he catches the way her fingers fumble with the fabric of his clothes, struggling even worse than he had to make sense of the twisting material.

It’s only when his eyes flit back up to her face that he notices how fuzzy she looks.

Her eyes blinking rapidly to focus on the task in front of her, her hands becoming clumsier and progressively uncoordinated by the second.

“Are.. Are you alright?” He asks, a concerned tone taking over as he observes her further, taking in her frustrated tugs and blinks.

“Yeah. I’m just— I started getting a bit sleepy. I guess the pain pill got to me more than I thought it would, but I’ll manage.” Shae answers, still blinking furiously as though she could simply will the medication to react differently in her system.

“Why don’t you take a rest, yeah? I can handle this.” He offers, but she doesn’t appear particularly keen on heeding his words, her lips fixing into a pink pout as she continues with no avail.

Relaxing his shoulders, he places a large hand gently on top of hers, halting her movements and forcing her to finally just sit with the feeling.

Her shoulders sag as she releases a frustrated exhale through her nose, allowing herself to close her eyes only momentarily.

Tilting his head into her line of sight, he catches her reluctant eye. And he knows he shouldn’t find this as cute as he does, but witnessing such deliberate defiance in such a small girl makes him have to bite back an adoring smile as he speaks, not wanting to antagonize her further.

“Niyah, I’ve got this. Have a rest, okay? I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Looking at him through her lashes, she holds his eye for a moment before breaking away from his gaze, just as her bottom lip becomes fitted between her teeth.

And he’s grateful for her sudden change in interest because his eyes flit to the movement of her lips for just a second, but just long enough to catch the sight for himself before he forces his mind to refocus.

Staring into a far off corner, at nothing in particular, she answers back quietly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Steven smiles, adoring the way her brows furrow in resistance even as she verbally concedes. Watching as Shae melts into the plush bedding almost immediately, her head sinking into her arms and her eyelids falling shut without any further protest.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steven forces himself to turn back around.

“What’s your favorite color, Niyah? I might have it laying around here somewhere.” He receives only a faint, questioning hum in response.

“Your favorite color?” He repeats softly.

“Oh.” Her words come out lazily, put together as they come to mind. “Bla— green… No, it’s black. I think.”

“Long sleeves or short?” He asks.

“Short.”

“What about bottoms?”

“Shorts.” She inhales deeply through her nose, settling her face further into the covers. “I want shorts.”

Brows furrowing, his lips set into a pout as he thinks on his wardrobe. “I- I don’t think I have any shorts… Niyah?” And when he turns around again, he finds that her eyes are serenely shut, chest rising and falling evenly as she soundly sleeps.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What’s up, man?”

“Heeey, Marc.” Steven greets, moving into the hall and closing the door to his room where Shae slept, burrowing further underneath the blanket he’d placed on top of her.

“Uh, yeah. I’m calling because there was a bit of a dog related incident while we were out. Niyah’s fine, so don’t worry. But she did end up hurting her hip? We’re at the apartment now. I gave her one of my pain pills that I take for my headaches, so she’s sleepin’.”

From the other side of the line, Steven could hear a bit of shuffling, as though his brother had taken the phone from his ear, and then a faint. “It’s Steven. Can you handle the counter for a moment? Alright. Yeah. I’ll be back.”

There was a bit more shuffling before he came back to the phone. “Okay. Help me to understand this. You go out for lunch, that’s fine. Then there’s a ‘dog incident’? What happened?” Marc asks, getting into his serious older brother mindset. Steven could tell, even over the phone that the man’s brows were knitted, eyes narrowed and waiting.

“We got crepes. There was a park nearby, you know the one—“

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Well, Niyah kneels down to look at a group of baby ducklings, and suddenly, a golden retriever comes out of nowhere. It pounces on her, she loses her balance and gets knocked into the pond. It was a complete shock really.”

Marc sighs heavily, “Yeah, I’m sure it was. So you got her to the apartment, then what?”

“Uh, yeah. Her hip was starting to bruise really badly from where she’d knocked it against the rocks, so I gave her one of my naproxen.”

“So you, a man who weighs a good, let’s say, thirty pounds more than her— gave her the medication which was prescribed to work well with your system specifically?”

“Yeah.” Steven takes a moment of pause, nodding his head as he realizes what he had done. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought of it like that exactly.”

“I know you didn’t, buddy.” Marc replies tiredly.

“Well she’s just sleeping now. I can come back to the shop—“ Steven begins, running a hand through his hair.

“No. No!” Marc interrupts quickly, his voice rising briefly as he speaks.

“What? Why not?”

There’s more shuffling on the other side of the phone, Marc’s voice muffling briefly as though he were rubbing a hand over his face. Faintly in the background, Jake could be heard taking orders.

“You can’t just… leave her alone in the apartment like that, Steven. Look. Jake and I will handle closing tonight. Just… keep watch of her. Make sure she’s still breathing.”

“Wot?” Steven promptly pipes up, his neck craning as he processes his brother’s words. “Sorry… What? Is there actually a chance she could stop breathing?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

01.28.2021 - 1:45PM

shae—

Shae’s eyes open slowly, vision fuzzy, brain vaguely registering the warm hand that ghosts over her shoulder before promptly withdrawing.

“Hey, sleepyhead. I spoke with Marc. You don’t have to worry about him, he knows that this- well. It’s pretty much my fault, innit? He and Jake will close the shop, we just want you to rest this off, okay?”

Blinking up at him she faintly nods, eyelids falling shut only to flutter open repeatedly.

“I brought you some clothes. I’ve got the heating on but I doubt sleeping in a towel is very comfortable. I’ll step out to give you some privacy. Pop back in, in about ten-ish minutes.” Steven says softly, patting the bed one last time before shutting the door behind him.

With one eye open, Shae huffs into the blankets surrounding her, glaring at the articles of clothing that stand between her and falling back to sleep.

Sitting up is a draining task, but she manages it. Both eyes closed, head bobbing to the side as she pulls the covers off haphazardly. Quickly discarding the towel wrapped around her waist and allowing it to rest at the foot of the bed.

Yanking the change of clothes into her bare lap, she finally opens her eyes again. Relieved to find a simple white tee which would prove much easier to put on, unlike the many button downs Steven seemed to own.

Tugging on the shirt, she brings the bottoms closer to her face to inspect. Squinting at the article of clothing that appeared to be pajama pants cut at the mid thigh, the ends folded and offhandedly sewed to keep the edges from fraying.

Laying on her back, she folds herself in half, bringing her knees to her chest, feet dangling in the air as she struggles almost drunkenly for a moment to angle her feet into the openings before finally succeeding.

Falling back flatly against the bed and allowing her heavy eyelids to shut once again.

3:15PM

Slipping back into consciousness, Shae’s ears are met with gentle words. The voice soothing and sweet as he speaks, “I’ve adjusted the heat a bit more. I hope you’re warm.”

A hum resonates from her throat as she slips back out again.

5:27PM

In a few moments of wakefulness, Shae registers the empty chair where Steven had been sitting for the last… Well, she didn’t really know how long it’d been, if she was being honest.

All she knew, in this quiet moment of empty silence, was that he was no longer by her side. That fact, the glaring lack of his presence seemed to eat away at her peace of mind. Bothering her more than she could even fully understand.

Her voice when she goes to use it, is only semi cooperative, words forming and coming out just fine but the volume not quite carrying the way it normally would.

Her jumbled words fall past her lips low and faint, though she doesn’t stop. Eyelids fluttering open and shut as she mumbles incessantly.

Then suddenly he’s slipping past the door, water splashing from the mug he was holding and onto the front of his shirt as he slides into the room, eyes wide. A half eaten eclair propped between his lips, a little chocolate smudged on his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Steven asks, setting down his mug on the dresser closest to the door. Running a hand over the now dampened fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah.” She answers, feeling significantly soothed as he settles back into the chair beside where she lay.

11:11PM

A flash of blaring white bleeds through her eyelids, jarring Shae awake as she hears bodies shuffling into the room.

Bringing a hand to shield her eyes from the overhead light, she squints at the open door just as Jake sits onto the edge of the bed. The man bumping against her legs initially before adjusting, so that he wasn’t nearly sitting on them.

Marc stood in the doorway, arms folded, looking on with his usual severe expression. Watching unamused as Jake waved a to-go container in the air celebratorily.

“Got your favorite, lamb curry. Extra garlic naan, extra lamb.” He says looking down at her as she simply squints back. Her mind worked slowly, attempting to blink the sleep from her eyes.

“Not hungry.” She replies hoarsely, rubbing at her face with clumsy fingers.

Her dismissive statement however does little to sway the older man. Jake simply popping open the plastic top, before setting to work to free a spork from its wrappings. “That’s too bad, because you’re gonna eat. You’re not laying in here all night with nothing on your stomach. Now sit up, Mos. And don’t make me repeat myself, chiquita.”

01.29.2021 - 7:57AM

By morning the room is washed in a cool blue and Shae wakes up with a start. A feeling of implacable urgency hums through her as her eyes settle on one of the many clocks in Steven’s room.

The bright red numbers take a moment to process in her brain before she’s actively panicking, urgently propping herself up against the mattress.

Peaking over the edge of the bed, she’s met with the rare sight of Steven asleep.

Laying on his back, with his head thrown back against the blankets, he’d formed into a makeshift pallet. A pillow is wrenched in between his arms.

He’s all knitted brows and pink lips parted as he inaudibly breathes. His head of curls were even more of a mess than usual, black tufts pointed every-which-way, sticking up in any direction they pleased.

She’d heard by now how hard it was for him to get to sleep, but as she looks around the room again, unable to catch sight of her phone, she reaches a reluctant hand from underneath the covers.

Resting her palm tentatively onto his shoulder, to gently tug at the dark blue cotton long sleeve he’d worn to bed.

Steven stirs after a another persistent pull, his dark lashes fluttering open and an adorably groggy hum of acknowledgment sounds from his chest to meet her ears.

He looked undeniably pretty in this state. All pouty lipped and furrowed brows, clearly disgruntled to be suddenly awoken. But then his eyes shine with a glimmer of sleepy recognition upon waking up only to find Shae looking back at him and his face, still adorably pouty, visibly softens.

“Hey.” He greets in a whisper, resting his head back against his pillow as his eyes open and close gently, going back and forth between wanting to go back to sleep and wanting to hear what she had to say.

“It’s almost eight, the shop opens at seven. We’re late for work, and I don’t know where my phone is.” She answers, pulling off the covers to throw her legs over the side of the bed.

“Jake gave us til eleven.” He mumbles back in reply, closing his eyes and readjusting under his blankets. And lazily, he extended a finger towards the dresser near the door. “Your phone’s there, you left it on the bathroom sink yesterday.”

At this information her shoulders sag, her panic easing somewhat as she stares at him, his chest rising and falling evenly as he appears to already be slipping back into his dreamworld.

The only sound to be heard throughout the blue-lit space was that of his calm breathing, and that's when the events of yesterday begin to flood back into the forefront of her mind.

She’d been utterly humbled by a random canine, who apparently had been called to act upon some animalistic vendetta that had been placed on its dog heart.

And it’s at this moment she reasons that both dogs, and large ponds, will forever be on her own personal ‘avoid at all costs’ list.

Steven notably being excluded from said list, as she watches him quietly from her place on the bed-frameless mattress in his room. The box spring being the only thing separating the bed from the dark hardwood floor.

The pill had clearly been a bad idea on both of their parts, incapacitating her in a way neither of them had expected it to, or even remotely accounted for. But all in all, he’d taken care of her.

Steven had waited on her hand and foot, for nearly nineteen hours straight, never straying too far out earshot and kindly keeping her company as she repeatedly went in and out of consciousness.

Showing her a level of attentiveness she could honestly say she hadn’t experienced since she was 16 years old and her mother was still alive.

The internal admittance leaves her solemn in the morning quiet.

“Steven?” Shae speaks up, purposefully breaking the stillness and the train of thought her mind was going down.

A moment passes and she wonders if he’s already drifted back to sleep when he answers with another languid hum.

“Thank you.” She says earnestly, her voice faint as she’s not sure he’s even really listening. “For yesterday. You took care of me. I appreciate it… A lot.”

“You deserve it.” His words come out slurred, his heavy lidded eyes still shut, but he replies nonetheless. The nickname he’d crafted for her proceeding to fall off his lips in a way that makes her heart twinge.

Shae’s eyes remain trained on the man’s face as she doesn’t make a move for her phone. Instead choosing to fold herself back onto the bed, her nose sinking into the covers.

part iii. denial and familiarity

day 251.

steven—

“Hey.” Shae greets from the hallway, eyes mischievous and a pleased smirk forming on her lips as Steven pulls open the front door.

“Hi.” He answers faintly in return, stepping aside to grant her entry into his and his brother’s apartment as if it were second nature. Which it practically had become such since she’d begun assisting Marc in his role as the head baker.

Acting officially as his pastry sous chef, his second in command— which only meant, wherever Marc was nowadays, Shae was bound to never be too far off.

Steven could only vaguely recall how anxiety inducing it’d been to invite her into his dwelling for the first time.

Now, if he thought on it long enough, the space was more peculiar when she wasn’t gracing it with her wily presence and her intoxicatingly sensuous scent of rose, hyacinth and clover.

Perfuming their air with that rich, clean fragrance on early mornings like this to ride to work with Marc. Or just spend hours loitering in their kitchen, and on their couch.

Claiming a space in their lives with that same lazy surety a cat has in picking a home and simply deciding it wasn’t a stray anymore.

“Marc’s getting his work bag together, he’ll be out in a sec.”

“That’s cool. Y’know, I’m surprised to see you up so early. 2AM might be your personal best.” She comments, faintly trailing after him as he returns to his room, watching from the doorway as he places the last of his things into a duffel.

Steven was the only one of his father’s three remaining sons that bothered to go home regularly.

Although, maybe it was more of the fact that he was the only Spector boy that possessed the ability to stomach it all. That could survive the lengthy trip from Queens, NY to Chicago, walk into their childhood home and still be able to function in that space for a week, every other month.

Especially when the halls were haunted with memories of not one, but two familial ghosts.

“It’s not if you never actually go to sleep.” Marc comments in passing, setting his bag by the front door before heading towards the kitchen.

Steven’s eyes roll as he zips his duffel closed.

“What time’s your bus?” Shae asks as he moves to retrieve his shoes from the top shelf of his closet.

“4:15.” He replies, settling down on the edge of the bed. “Both Dad and Marc like getting the drive out of the way early. Whole family’s early birds except for me.”

“Well, I don’t know about your dad, but I’d say that Jake and Marc are just allergic to having downtime.” Shae says snickering as Marc speaks up from the kitchen.

“I heard that, smartass.” He calls dryly from the other room, not picking his head up from fixing his and Steven’s meals for the day.

“What do you think you have ears for, dumbass?” She snipes, causing Steven to release a soft huff of amusement.

“Wait!” Shae suddenly exclaims, making him pause just as he grabs ahold of his shoelaces. “Steven… Are those Chucks?”

Frozen like a deer in headlights, Steven looks back wide eyed, fully exposed.

He honestly hadn’t meant to grab the grayish teal converse. Wanting to have broken them in, instead of letting her see them practically fresh out of the box— brand new and so clearly influenced by the fact they were the exact brand she consistently rotated in her daily wardrobe.

“Yeah, I got them last Wednesday… for the trip.” He answers self-consciously, lying through his teeth about the last detail. Unsure and contemplating if he wanted to continue tying them, or switch them out entirely for a different pair, when she speaks up.

“They look good.” She comments appraisingly, lips pursed approvingly and head nodding as she adds, “They suit you.”

Steven continues tying up his laces, mumbling his thanks into the space separating them as he folds himself over his bent knees, busying himself with the task to keep his face momentarily hidden. Fully hoping the heat he was feeling in his cheeks wasn’t visible to her.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

day 293.

shae—

Standing behind the register, Jake whistles lowly as he eyes the figure of a woman walking past the cafe’s front windows, smirking widely as the stranger makes her way to the main entrance.

“Heads up, Mos. I’m shooting for cutie number 88 today.”

Tearing her eyes from the organized rows of flavored syrups, Shae focuses on her small stature and flowing brown curls with bleached blonde highlights peppered throughout.

She was beyond cute, Shae thought. Sitting somewhere between pretty and absolutely gorgeous.

All warm, glowy skin with glossed pink lips, dressed in a pastel pink bikini top with form-fitting jeans, the strings of her bikini bottoms tied into bows on either of her hips.

Moving her shades to sit at the top of her head, she approaches the register before Shae can formulate a reply to his statement.

“Welcome to the Bloom and Brew. What can I get for you today?” Jake greets, expression softening as he makes eye contact.

“One large iced mocha and a small nitro cold brew to-go, please.” She answers, the silver bracelets on her wrists sounding gently as she pulls her phone from her tote. “You guys take Apple Pay, right?”

“We do.” He answers with an easy nod, typing in her order before placing his undivided attention back onto her. “And… you got a name, honey?”

Her hazel eyes crinkle at the pet name, lips moving into an amused smile as she chuckles. “Cali.”

“Ah, entiendo.” He hums, finishing typing it in so that Shae could begin making the drinks. “Do I have a Columbian or a Californian girl on my hands then?”

“Columbian.” She’s smiling widely, happy for the opportunity to talk about her heritage. “My mom’s from DR though, what about you? Do you have a name, honey?”

Jake taps at the nametag pinned into his shirt with an extended finger in answer and noticeably only to Shae, not replying to the first question. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to a few other things. I’ll respond to anything you’d like.”

The line makes Shae roll her eyes so hard it actually hurts.

Thoroughly annoyed, but equally amazed as it appears to hit its intended mark with Cali. The girl looking progressively pleased the longer the interaction endured.

“That’ll be $13.55, sweetness.” He prompts, extending a thick finger to guide her to where she’d tap her phone. “Two drinks. Are you orderin’ for someone else by chance? Maybe… Me?”

Cali laughs again, narrowing her eyes playfully as she shakes her head.

She returned the favor as she merely pointed to one of the front windows.

Another young woman was waiting outside, preoccupied with her phone as she tapped at its screen. With a curly pixie cut slicked down, she was dressed in a black bikini set, a white beach shawl tied at her hips.

“It’s for my friend.”

“Then I’m guessing your friend wouldn’t be too hurt if I gave you this then.” He speaks with an intentional drawl, writing on the back of her receipt with a black ballpoint pen before handing it over to her smoothly.

She accepts it quietly, flipping it over to view the back side where he’d written it before looking up to catch his eye. He was looking back at her smugly, expectant and proud.

Fitting her bottom lip between her teeth, she holds his gaze as she unlocks her phone.

Jake’s smirk only grows as she quietly enters the number into the device, pointing the front camera towards him to snap a quick photo before sliding the receipt back over to him.

“I chose no receipt for a reason, sweetness.” She says, moving to accept the drinks from Shae with a smile before sending a final wink his way.

Jake watches her leave, waiting for the door to chime closed before he turns to Shae with a wide smile.

She audibly groans, slipping her fingers into her apron pocket to retrieve a clip of neatly folded cash. From the metal clip, she removes a single, crisp five dollar bill and extends it towards him.

He accepts it smugly.

“You can’t argue with results, Mos.” He says as happily as he was capable of. Tucking the bill into his wallet looking exceedingly self-congratulatorily.

“No. I can’t. But I stand by my belief, that one of these days... you’re gonna get turned down.” She says turning away, moving to clean her station. “And I’ll be there, laughing my little head off for every second of it.”

“You call that globe sitting on your shoulders little?” He asks rhetorically with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

“You’re competing with the fucking Epcot ball with that dome— la puta madre!“ His sentence is cut short as Shae suddenly rounds back in half the time, hopping up to wrap her arm around his throat and tugging him down harshly into a headlock.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

day 300.

steven—

“Do you ever get the impression that Niyah might be into girls?” Steven asks suddenly, breaking the silence in his and his brother’s apartment.

The noise of Marc rearranging the fridge to make room for this week’s groceries stops as the man freezes.

“Why are you asking me that?” He asks, voice apprehensive.

“Was just curious… I guess.”

“You know, normally you get that kind of information from the person themselves.” Marc says, face still, expression unreadable.

“I just thought you might know…” Steven watches as Marc sighs, the man resolving to return to his task.

“She’s queer, Steven. There's your answer.”

“Queer… right.” He replies, pretending he knew what the term fully meant.

“It sorta means she likes everybody. No matter what they identify as— Girl, guy, anybody. At least she has the capacity to. Doesn’t mean she’ll actually have a thing for everyone that breathes.”

“Right.” Steven nods, the silence resuming for a brief moment before he breaks it again. “What type of guys is she into? If you know.”

“I don’t know, man. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff.”

“Well, what do you talk about?”

“Baking. Who’s going to break first. How annoying she is. Baking again. Those kinda things.”

“Other than work.” Steven clarifies with knitted brows.

“I don’t know. Stuff?” Marc replies, shrugging his shoulders, quickly becoming frustrated. “Look, I answered your question. Let’s drop it. Alright? You wanna know so bad, ask her yourself. I doubt she’d mind talking about it.”

Steven purses his lips, stopping himself from rolling his eyes before resolving to turn back to unbagging the vegetables.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

day 328.

Rewrapping a bundle of twine, Steven looks up at the sound of footsteps, prepared to launch into his opening greeting when his eyes settle on Shae entering the flower shop.

“What’s up?” He asks as she shuffles forward, looking over her shoulder quickly, shielding a cinnamon roll on top of a napkin. “What’s this?”

“Snack heist.” Shae says in a stage whisper, a mischievous smile already on her face. “Heard from Marc that you came in a little later today and I know you never grab anything to eat so… I brought you this.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I really am working on it—“

“No, it’s okay, Steven.” She interrupts hurriedly, holding up the roll. “I made the batch this morning. So it’s not Marc’s handiwork, but it’s the same recipe. Tell me what you think when you can, huh? I can’t stay long, he already nags me enough as it is.”

“Okay.” He nods, accepting the treat with one hand before extending the other to stop her from leaving. “Thank you, by the way. It means a lot.”

And her eyes scan his face for a moment, irises glimmering a bit before she gives a shrug. A warm, lopsided grin replacing her usual playful expression. “Don’t mention it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

day 488.

shae—

“How long are you going to keep this up?” Marc says suddenly, stirring a pot of cream of chicken soup and cooked rice. Breaking the comfortable silence that had taken over the apartment in Steven’s absence, effectively startling Shae out of her trance of watching him do the prep work for the cheesy chicken casserole they were having for dinner.

“What?” She asks confusedly, moving her hands from her lap to rest on the counter she currently sat atop. “Watching you cook? Do you want me to do it?”

“No.” He shakes his head, eyes stationary on the task in front of him. “Steven.”

“What am I doing with Steven? He’s not even here right now.”

Marc doesn’t answer right away, stirring the pot slowly as it begins to lightly bubble. “How long are you going to ignore that you like him?”

And maybe, if she were a better liar or more disingenuous, she’d have found something to say.

She might’ve laughed. Found some key way to have changed the subject.

Instead she just stares. Her ears, neck and cheeks erupting with illusionary flames of embarrassment as she processes the gravity of the statement.

Lifting his gaze, Marc immediately recognizes the abject fear clouding her eyes.

“It’s okay to like him, Shaeniyah.” He says plainly, watching the way she appears visibly thrown for a loop. “Come on, you can say something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He answers, causing her to roll her eyes irritably. “I didn’t really think this far into the conversation.”

“What was the point of even bringing it up then?”

“Because you like him. I see how you look at him, talk to him. I mean, you bring him snacks when you think I’m not looking.” Shae’s stubborn grimace effectively melts away at that, craning her neck, eyes wide as he speaks.

“You- You know about that?”

“My brother practically wears his food from how messily he eats— of course I noticed. I’m not the one giving them to him, and it’s definitely not Jake. But that’s besides the point. You should trust him.”

“I trust him plenty.” She pouts, looking away.

“Then trust him with the truth.”

“You’re one to talk, Marc Spector.”

“Yeah, I know.” He nods, turning back to the soup and rice he’d been neglecting to stir. “Must let you know that you’re fucking up big time if I’m the one who felt the need to talk to you about it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

day 561.

They’d gone out for drinks. Just a casual, friendly outing. Innocent really.

She’d just left him for a moment, venturing to the bar for extra maraschino cherries when she turned to the sight of him sitting in his seat, listening patiently as a blonde leaned against the table, positively beaming at him.

And for a moment he catches her eye before going back to whatever conversation he could possibly be having.

Shae turns back to the bar, breathing heavily through her nose as she places her hands on the wooden countertop, her thoughts running at a million per second.

There were a number of truths. First being, Steven was single. He wasn’t hers to demand the time of, there was no verbal agreement between them, demanding his attention and affections remain solely on her.

And second was that the same could be said for her.

Although before Steven, that fact had always brought her a modicum of relief. Now it just made her insides stir uneasily. Steven wasn’t hers… Steven.

He was the man she always wanted to see. The man whose voice made her smile and her stomach jump at the worst of times. He laughed at her lame jokes, never said no when she was having a bad day and made her feel at peace just by standing next to her.

Marc was right. She thinks, virtually kicking herself.

Marc was right, Steven made her life better. More exciting, vibrant and fresh— and here she was, with her back turned like an intimidated child while he got hit on. Frozen in place, second guessing everything.

If she could just turn around… if she could just get her limbs to cooperate.

“Gonna stand here forever?” Sounds a voice from the left side of her and her shoulders instantaneously sag. “Did you order somethin’ else?”

Shae merely shakes her head in answer as she feels life start back again. Watching as she seems to obtain control of her body and the things around her regain their color and focus.

“What are you waiting for then?” Steven pries.

“You looked busy.” Her tongue feels heavy, is that normal? “Didn’t want to intrude.”

He laughs airly, “Intrude? Oh, she was nice. I don’t think she would’ve minded. I mean I came here with you. If anyone was barging in, it wouldn’t have been you.” And that makes her feel better, despite herself? In spite of herself?

“Regardless, she looked like she was happy to talk to you.” Shae says, still pointedly looking at the various bottles on the shelf behind the bar.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice almost hopeful.

“Yeah.” She replies weakly.

“Well if that’s what you think. You might be right.” He continues, reaching a hand into the pocket of his dull, olive green corduroy pants like he was searching for something. His head tilted downwards. “Y’know before she left, she gave me somethin’ weird.

“It was a napkin. I thought she was just being polite since I’d spilled a bit of my drink but after she left, I noticed there was somethin’ written on it in blue ink.” Shae’s head turns on a swivel towards him, her body betraying her as her mind races. Did she—

Steven’s face is still tilted downwards, leaning a smidge towards the left as his eyes instantly meet with hers. Oh.

He was pulling her leg. Intentionally.

Shae’s head lulls back slightly in awe, in pure shock.

“You asshole.” The words fall past her lips in a faint whisper before she can even think better of it, watching dumbly as the corner of Steven’s lips tilt upwards for just a millisecond.

Removing his hand from his pocket, notably empty, Steven edges closer. All of his attention now focused on her. “I didn’t think I would be right, but I am, aren’t I?” He asks, his eyes tracing every inch of her face. Staring, in that way, again.

“About what?” She answers, looking up at him suspicious and wary. Her words coming out a bit mean, but he doesn’t appear swayed in the least.

“That you’re jealous.” A smile was working its way onto his face.

“Wha-“ She sputters defensively but he doesn’t give her a chance to find a way to work herself out of this.

“You were. You are.”

“I don’t know where this is coming from, Steven. But—“

“So you wouldn’t have minded if she had made out with me?” He asks suddenly, causing her to squint bewildered at him.

“Would you have even let her? I mean here? In front of all these people?”

“Not her.” He says simply, eyes clearer than Shae had ever seen them before. “There’s someone else who I’d prefer to do that with. And why not here? They’re just strangers.”

“Really?” She asks, unbelieving.

He nods. “Only if she’d have me, of course. I wasn’t so sure she would. But now…”

“What about now?”

“Now,” He takes one of her curls between his fingers, fitting it behind her ear. Eyes drifting to her lips, effectively putting her body on edge. “I’m thinkin’ maybe she’ll have me after all.”

And Shae chokes down a whimper. This didn’t feel real, maybe she’d wake up and this will have all been one long, tortuous dream.

Steven leans closer, “Will you?”

“Hm?” She hums noncommittally, entirely enraptured.

“Will you have me, Shaeniyah Moswen?”

Her face is twisted, pure agony written in the way her brows are tilted upwards, moving to meet in the middle. Her lips fixed into a grave downturned pout.

The average onlooker would be virtually unable to guess the exchange was anything in the realm of a love confession. With the way he’d fitted himself over her, cradling her jaw, she looks up at him as though she were physically pained by the weight of it all.

Her chest rises and falls heavily as they stand in a momentary stalemate. Steven, ever patient, watches her with gentle affection. Gliding the blunt tips of his nails through the hair above her ear in a soothing motion, lulling her into a feeling of security and safety.

“Will you have me, Niyah?” He repeats softly and she breathes shakily in through her nose before nodding quietly in agreement.

“Yeah.” She appears so innocently unaware in the way she simply blinks up at him when his face breaks into a loving smile of relief.

Steven chuckles softly, bending his head forward and bringing his chin to his chest, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “Yes.” He whispers more to himself before looking back to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and maybe it’s silly, they’re already so entwined into one another’s space— his right hand cradling her jaw, the other ghosting against her left hip. Both of her hands were holding onto either of his arms, loosely clinging to him as they practically breathed the same air.

“Please.” She says in a nearly inaudible whisper but Steven catches it just fine.

Leaning forward, he holds her gaze right until their noses touch. And despite the silent whimper that sounds from her as their lips meet— Shae leans into the kiss.

Her fingers tug and pull at the fabric of his jacket, light gasps and inhales finding their way into the exchange as they play an odd game of give and take with their mouths.

Steven pulls back reluctantly, quietly chuckling at the way she chases after his lips, earning herself an additional chaste peck in direct reward for her sudden, unabashed neediness.

Resting his forehead against hers, he notes the fuzzy look in her eye, a smile growing on his face as he wraps his left arm around her waist to pull her in closer. Cherishing the quietly surprised but equally pleased, airy moan that slips past her lips.

“Feels like I’m dreaming.” He admits, breaking the relative silence between them. “I know that I’m not but.. I’ve thought about this moment for so long. I’m havin’ a hard time realizing it’s real.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” She asks softly, eyes not settling on one part of his face. Happy to finally be able to ogle as she pleased.

He nods against her, “Haven't you?”

And her brows furrow as she replies honestly, “All the time.”

part iv. brandy kisses & blush

day 662.

steven—

Standing at the flower shop’s cash wrap, Steven eyes the screen of his phone intently. Pressing the play button every fifteen seconds to restart the video from the beginning again.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s replayed it, how many times he’s ogled his girlfriend’s form from top to bottom.

Girlfriend, he could say that now— or for the last three months to be more precise. He tries not to be downright obnoxious with the term, doing his best to only use it when he deems it necessary. But sometimes he finds himself slipping, saying and thinking it multiple times a week, or day.

Although Steven doesn’t think anyone should be able to fault him for it, especially when said girlfriend was as much of a catch as Shaeniyah Etta Moswen was. He’d found out her middle name during a sporadic game of two truths, one lie and had held it close to his chest ever since.

He wholeheartedly adored her, catering to and indulging her a tad bit more than Jake and Marc thought he should most times, but she never asked for more than was well within his limits to give and Steven was always eager to please.

Today however, seemed to be the first time he considered that perhaps he’d been too easygoing, too forgiving.

The video she’d sent was innocent enough, just a short clip of Shae on her off day, kneeling to better angle her front camera towards one of the three cats she owned.

“Steven’s gonna stay the night, Margo. Did you know that?” She asks in the sweet voice she reserved primarily for her pets, running her free hand along the multicolored fur of the calico cat that only butts its head against her bare knee in answer. “Ohh, you’re excited aren’t you? Say ‘Hurry Steven, hurry!’”

It was short, adorable beyond belief really. And he couldn’t even enjoy it, thanks to the top she was wearing.

The dull olive fabric draped along her chest in an expansive V, nearing her midriff before dipping into pools around her folded legs. The garment was just long enough to keep her lower half covered. And on his fifth watch, Steven becomes convinced that she isn’t wearing any bottoms underneath.

“New shipment of bouquet wraps came in this morning.” Jake announces suddenly, placing a large cardboard box down onto the counter with a low thump.

“Sorry. What was that?” Steven asks, instantaneously locking his phone, having a hard time shaking the cloud that’d drawn over him.

“Bouquet wraps.” Jake repeats incredulously. “The ones you kept nagging me to order, remember? From last week.”

“Oh, right, right. Yeah.”

“What’s got you all spooked? Don’t tell me you’re nervous about tonight.”

“How do you know… about tonight?” Steven asks surprisedly.

Jake rolls his eyes, “How many people fucking work here? Everybody knows everything about everybody. You could tie your shoes a different way and I guarantee you I’d hear about it.”

“N- Not always.” Steven says quietly, not willing to admit that his brother was right, he wanted to at least maintain the illusion of privacy.

“Right...” Jake nods despite looking apprehensive, taking a moment to stare with narrowed eyes.

“What. What are you doing that for?”

“I’m looking at you because you look like you’re strung up. No, don’t shake your head— Your shoulders are to your ears, you can’t go over Mos’ like this.”

“Since when could you tell me where I can and can’t go?” Steven questions with knitted brows.

“Since you were born my fuckin’ brother. And no brother of mine is going over his girl's house looking like a pendejo. We’re going out for drinks before you go, me and you.”

“First off, that was a bit harsh, yeah? Second, um, no? I’m supposed to be at Niyah’s by-“

Jake interrupts him promptly with a dismissive hand. “She’s your girlfriend, not your parole officer. We’re going out for drinks. You’ll feel better about it later, you’ll see.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

shae—

Stepping up onto her tip-toes, Shae catches sight of Steven’s disorderly curls through the peephole.

He’s running a hand over his face when she settles back down onto the balls of her feet, moving to unlock the door. Triple checking to ensure none of the cats were near before opening it just wide enough for Steven to slip through.

She catches a whiff of him as he enters, pressing the door closed with her right shoulder as she looks up at him. A note of alcohol rang through the usual mix of floral scents that he generally sported due to his job— just a hint of brandy shining through.

“I thought you didn’t like brandy.” She comments with a pleased smile, looking over his clothes. He was wearing all dark tones today, an oversized plaid jacket over a button down and jeans folded at the ankles.

“I don’t.” Steven answers simply with a sniff. “It reminded me of you.”

“Yeah?” She asks, her smile widening as he steps close enough to lean over her. “How’s that?”

He doesn’t respond right away, eyes dark and clouded as he looks down at her top, rubbing the material between his fingertips. In person, he notices a detail he never had before. His attention settling on four tiny metal balls just barely visible through the paper thin fabric.

“You’d ordered it the night we first kissed.” He mumbles, dragging his eyes back to her face. Continuing before she can form a reply, resting both of his hands on her hips. “Do you remember that text you sent me earlier today?”

Shae’s expression waxes playful as he begins guiding her backwards, coaxing her further into her apartment. “I know of it.”

steven—

He hums at her response, his solemn features remaining composed and unreadable as he marches her backwards, step by step.

Once inside Shae’s room, he nudges the door closed behind them with his foot. Messy curls falling forward against his forehead, spiraling and twisting in whatever direction they pleased.

He’d grown accustomed to these four walls, the mix-matched fabrics of the curtains, rug and bedding. The space livened with pops of color in every corner, the windows lined with starter plants he’d assured her were failproof, even for beginners.

Steven sits at the edge of her bed, pulling Shae until she stands in front of him, her fingers carding through the soft curls at the base of his neck.

“Been thinking about you all day.” He confesses in a soft tone. “I mean I always think about you, but today it’s mainly because of this number right here.” And he tugs lightly at her top.

“You like it?” She asks, massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Yeah.” He nods, holding her eye as he leans forward, his mouth making contact with the skin exposed due to the low cut of the shirt. Lips warm as he mouths the valley of her chest messily, leaving a wet trail along her torso as he explores with his tongue and teeth.

Shae gasps sharply when he extends a hand, gently tweaking the bud of one of her pierced nipples through her shirt.

She cradles his head to her as his hands dip further down, the tips of his fingers easily slipping underneath the waistband of her underwear, holding steady as he looks her in the eye.

He grants her a pause long enough for her to object if she’d liked, but as she stares down at him, expression hiding thinly veiled desire, she gives a nod of her head and he’s slowly tugging the undergarment down her legs.

Steven detaches his mouth from her sternum, raising the hem of her top high enough to reveal her vulva.

Shae kept her mound neatly trimmed, the small patch of hair that was present was lined into a precise landing strip. He chuckles momentarily at the reveal, leaning forward to press an indulgent kiss against the plot of pubic hair, moving to kiss at either of her hip bones.

It happens quickly, one moment she’s standing in front of him and the next, she’s fallen face first into her duvet. Hooked under Steven’s right arm, her legs are thrown over his thighs as he runs his hands along her skin.

He hums shakily, a pleased sort of sound releasing from his throat. Grabbing handfuls of her ass, pulling and kneading as he saw fit.

“Thought about this part of you, too.” He admits, running the pad of his index finger along her entrance. “You, nice and spread out... Making you pay for having me work when all I wanted to do was get my hands on you. Do you think that’s fair, love? Hm?”

She’s at a loss for words, too caught up with the tantalizing prospect of Steven spending his entire shift thinking about her when a yelp is ripped from her lips.

Steven had… spanked her.

It was a swift but firm swat, one that had her reeling more from how unexpected her enjoyment of it was, than the actual intensity of the hit.

“I know you like giving me a hard time.“ He massages the afflicted spot, running a warm palm over the smooth cheek. “It’s okay. I like seeing you happy, it’s cute. But I’m still a man, love. Can’t always control how you make me feel.”

“Could only think of you.” He repeats, alternating how firmly and lightly he caressed the backs of her legs and thighs. “Wondering what shade of red I could get you… down here.”

She moans audibly, balling her hands into fists in her duvet as he slaps her ass again.

He does it again, and again, and again.

“You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?” Steven asks after the seventh smack, the whole of his right palm colliding with her now blossoming skin, a steady heat rising to the surface.

“Ooh, you are.” He muses, dragging a thick finger through her folds, the digit coming away coated with her arousal. “Is this why you act up, love? Because you know you’ll like your punishments too?”

Shae tries in vain to restrain her voice, the attempt made difficult from the way he starts off by pressing his middle and ring finger inside of her cunt.

Beginning with a firm but languishing pace, he practically bends himself over her. Craning his neck forward to get a good view of how she takes him.

“Would you look at that...” He marvels outwardly, muttering more to himself than to Shae. Pulling at her entrance, he leans in even closer. “Are you closer to a pink amaryllis, or an oleander, I wonder.”

The room fills with erotically wet squelches and sloshes as he works her open with his fingers.

Steven has an inquisitive nature, inherently having the desire to become intimately aware of the limits of his new toy. Pulling and pushing her to new heights so that he could learn what made her melt in his hands.

He swiftly becomes intuitive with Shae’s body, learning how close he could rile her up without making her climax. Massaging her walls into malleable complacency, noticing how she constricts and pulses around him, not minding the way her limbs jolt underneath him.

By the time he removes his fingers from inside her, his wrist and forearm are drenched.

Shae rolls over onto her back when he releases his hold of her, airy hiccups sparking from her lips as he kneels onto the bed. She accepts him into her arms easily, despite her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She apologizes weakly, voice made raw and hoarse from her cries.

“Oh, I know. I know.” Steven coos sympathetically in reply, settling on top of her, peppering her overbitten lips with kisses. Pouring his affection from her mouth to her chin, neck and temple.

“Want my cock, darling? Think you’re up for it?” He asks, unable to fully conceal his amusement in wake of her newfound pliability. “I’m sure you want something to come around now, don’t you love?”

Their foreheads are near touching as she nods blearily, sniffling into what kisses he initiates, her arms weakly thrown around his neck.

“Oh, dear.” He all but swoons, capturing her mouth with his after a particularly powerful pang of affection courses through him.

shae—

She shuffles underneath him, moaning at the taste of alcohol on his tongue as he licks into her mouth unabashedly.

There’s a noise of rustling between them, a faint clinking of his belt as he unbuckles it.

Steven unzips his pants, moving his bottoms and underwear aside just enough to get his cock comfortably out. Allowing the material to bunch at his ass as he situates himself above her.

Hooking her legs around his hips, he lifts her lower half from off of the bed, elevating her cunt slightly as he tugs at his length.

Her clit aches at the mere sight of Steven, at the way he rests on his hackles, hair unruly and clothing disheveled as he prepares to fuck her.

“Hm?” He asks, eyes rising to her face in question and it’s only then that she realizes she’d spoken.

“Want you.” She confesses, trying not to feel overwhelmed with emotion.

“You’ve got me.” He reassures her with a lopsided smile that does little to necessarily calm her.

“Want you, want all of you.” And she can only guess that she looks as pained as she feels inside. Loving Steven resembled a wide set of claws, lashing around in the very center of her being. It didn’t feel like something that could be satiated or placated to— she just wanted him to pour into her and never stop.

Shae reaches a hand out and he quickly accepts it, bringing it to rest over his heart to feel the way it thudded in his chest.

“You got me, Niyah.” He whispers, leaning forward until he’s nuzzled into her neck.

“For good?” She asks amidst fresh tears, he was rubbing the tip of his cock along her entrance now.

“For as long as you’ll have me.” He answers pressing into her, the stretch has her gasping for air.

“I’ll always want you. I…” Her rambling gets cut off as he continues working his way into her, inch by inch. “Fuck.”

“You’re taking me so well, Niyah.” He praises her breathlessly, moving to rest his sweat lined forehead against hers. There was still a good three to two inches to go, the sheer girth of his length making it more challenging as she got closer to his base.

He thrusts once, twice, testing the glide— unable to wait until he’d filled her all the way. The tip of his cock was already rubbing along her g spot, curving slightly upward.

Steven gasps as she clenches around him, a warm gush of arousal easing the push and pull. He can’t help but thrust a little further, his hips moving on their own as he begins to get progressively lost in the feeling of her around him. “You’re so… feels so tight.”

Unsure where to settle them, Shae’s hands wander as he fucks her, drifting from his chest, to his neck and inevitably into his hair. Needily tugging at anything and everything she could get a decent grip on.

He breaks her down quickly, his thrusts gradually increasing in speed.

“Sh-, fuc-.” Shae pants, her moans nearing high pitched cries as the force behind Steven’s thrusts push her further up the bed. The woven headboard beginning to knock into the brick wall with each push of his hips.

“Needed this.” He says fully blissed out, messily mouthing at her neck. Soothing himself by biting at the skin there and she’s too far gone to warn him against leaving any marks. “Should’ve gotten you on my cock sooner. Would’ve fucked this needy cunt just how you wanted. Would’ve taken care of you—”

His fingers dig into her hips, with his cock buried as deep as it could go, he fucks her into the mattress at a pace so relentless, she’s seeing stars. “You’re not gonna let me go til I give you my cum huh, love? You’re squeezin’ me like you want it.”

“I wa-, I want it.” Shae whines out through choked gasps of air. “Cum in me, Steven. Wan- wanna feel you, baby, please.” And she swears she hears a noise oddly similar to a growl rumble from within him that sends a shiver down her back as he moves swiftly to capture her lips.

He’s kissing her less than he is panting into her mouth, sharing what little air they could. “You first.” Is all he says in answer, fitting a hand between them to rub at her clit with his thumb.

His touch is firm, borderline disorienting as he matches rotating circles with his thrusts.

Throwing her head back against the sheets, her ability to form sentences of any kind is misplaced. The man on top of her flooding her senses into overdrive, taking her beautiful working mind and putting it away for safekeeping, merely reducing her to a conduit for pleasure.

Black curls stick to his brow in coiling loops as he pulls their hips together repeatedly with ease. “Ah, that’s the look.” He comments appraisingly, taking in her blown pupils and glazed over stare.

“Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay, you can let go.” He encourages gently despite the unyielding force of how intensely he pounds into her, the room filled with the sound of their skin meeting. “Don’t you want to show me how you look when you cum?”

She sucks one good inhale in, her mouth fixing into an ‘O’ as her eyes fill with tears, but no sound leaves her lips as she comes undone.

Her hearing actually cuts out for a moment, the feeling wrecking through her is similar to a silent, steady rocking. An overwhelming blast of euphoria and serotonin assaulting her senses all at once.

And he fucks her through it, unable to contain his load as she convulses around his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth, down to the last drop.

Even as she comes back to herself, his hips are still moving, his eyes focusing down at where they met.

Without even having to look, Shae could feel it as he fucked his own cum from out of her. The man undoubtedly transfixed from the way their arousal mixed, the thought makes her walls clench around him and it’s only then that he looks up.

“Took me like a champ.” He praises, voice hoarse, leaning forward to pepper her cheeks with kisses. “You’re full of me.”

“Wanna stay like this.” Shae mumbles amidst the barrage of kisses, her voice barely there as she attempts to see through her tear matted lashes.

He smiles tenderly, kissing her on the lips again. “For as long as you’d like.”

“If you say that, I’ll have you end up moving in.” She answers, hooking her ankles at his back.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Shae wakes up the next morning thoroughly swaddled.

Steven was fitted along her back, pressed as close as he physically could be. The heat generated from his body rolled off of him in waves, though she appreciated it in the freezing climate of her air conditioned room.

Carefully, as one would fear disturbing a resting kitten— she extends an arm from underneath the covers, reaching for her phone that lay abandoned on the nightstand. Picking up the device with the maximum amount of delicacy.

The screen flashes on and she squints at the brightness, the time reading 10:16AM. Her shift wouldn’t start until 2PM, but she figured that getting the shower out of the way early couldn’t hurt.

She makes it six inches away before the hand around her waist tightens and she’s pulled right back to where she started, her back pressed flush against Steven’s chest.

“What time is it?” He asks groggily, nuzzling his face into her neck, his curls tickling her ear and cheek.

“Quarter past ten.” She replies with a sigh, twisting in his arms to face him.

He’s all messy hair and eyes closed as if he was still half asleep— he simply hums in response. Half in answer, half due to the hand she brings up to his chin, massaging the pad of her thumb over the more than present stubble growing in.

“Need to shave. I’ve been putting it off.” Steven mumbles despite the fact she hadn’t actually commented on it.

“I should get you one of those mechanical trimmers. Y’know the ones that spin? They get close but don’t completely get rid of the hair. I think it looks nice on you.”

“Aw, love. You don’t have to buy that for me.”

“Never said I was gonna buy it. I said I was gonna get one for you.” She corrects with a grin. “Could probably take one off of Jake’s hands. He seems like the type to have a bunch of different ones for no reason.”

“So you plan to steal it?” He asks, cracking an eye open amusedly.

“Um, I think the term is ‘redistributing wealth.’ It’s not like he’ll miss it, or anything.”

“Uh-huh. Or anything.” He smiles softly, unconvinced but doting as he leans in to pepper kisses at her cheek and neck. “Call it what you will, Robin Hood. You’re talking about committing premeditated petty theft.”

“You’ll never convict! You have no proof!” She laughs as he presses his lips to her face, pulling her closer to him just because he could.

Shying away from his wet kisses, her fingers drift up into his hair. Carding through his curls, her knuckles catch on a few strands, unintentionally tugging with enough firmness that he releases a low groan.

The sound insights butterflies, exciting her more than she thinks it should.

“Pull it again?” He asks and her brows crease at the request.

“Your hair, honey?”

“Yeah.” He answers with a nod.

Holding his gaze, she slowly closes her hand into a fist, scooping a clump of his hair into it. Experimentally, she tugs again, watching as his lips part.

“Do you… like that?” She asks quietly, in awe of him, which seemed to be quickly becoming a regular occurrence for her. There was always something new about Steven that left her reeling.

Leaning in, she presses a kiss against his lips before moving to sit up on her knees in bed. “Gotta get ready, baby” and yet again he stops her, hands grabbing her hips.

“Steven.” She laughs as he guides her to straddle him, lazily massaging her legs and waist.

“Just once...” He says a tad shyly and it's only then that she notices he’s urging her hips forward still, applying pressure to her lower half to get her where he wants. “Just once, love. And then you can get ready. Please?”

The implication leaves her stunned as she allows him to coax her forward until her knees were on either side of his head, her core mere inches away from his face as he eyed her rather greedily for someone who’d woken up only moments prior.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” She mumbles distractedly, catching the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“You won’t, I’ve got you.” He reassures, guiding her heat the rest of the way to his mouth.

“Steven—“

He wraps his lips around her clit immediately, lathering up the bud lovingly with his tongue in such a way that has her hands darting forward to grab onto the headboard for support.

It takes a moment for her to relax into the feeling of his mouth attached to her, the tip of his nose planted against her mound as his hands coax her into a bucking rhythm.

Though she could only see a small fraction of his face, she thinks he looks nice like this, with his pupils dilated and cheeks gaining a slight flush to them.

He gives her bundle of nerves an overwhelming amount of attention. Dutifully maintaining eye contact with her as he stops sucking, instead fanning out his tongue into a wide strip once he notices she no longer needs his help rutting into his mouth.

Her mouth parts, eyes beginning to sting with the beginnings of tears as the pleasure only seems to mount. Removing her hands from gripping the headboard— her right hand reaches behind herself, for one of Steven’s resting on the swell of her ass. Entwining her fingers with his, her left hand finds purchase in his unruly hair as she slides against his wet tongue.

steven—

Steven releases muffled groans at the way she pulls and tugs at him as she chases her climax. His mouth and chin thoroughly soaked with her arousal, stray droplets rolling down his jaw, leaving him drenched in her and there’s no other way he’d prefer it.

He looks up at her teary eyes, parted lips and spiraling curls curtaining the sides of her face— and his chest swells with unyielding affection and pride.

He was the one who got her this wound up. He was the one pleasuring her, loving her. That was something that brought him great satisfaction.

As she comes, her hips still but he keeps the same pace, working her through it with firm licks until she’s curling into herself and actively pulling away from his mouth.

Her breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed and limbs temporarily uncoordinated. He plants one final kiss on the inside of her thigh before helping her slide back down his form just enough so that he could sit up against the pillows.

Shae nuzzles into his chest the first chance she gets, cupping his shoulders and neck before the palm of her right hand comes up to wipe at his lips and chin. He allows her fuss over him momentarily, eyes trained on her every move, fully enamored.

He takes her chin between his right thumb and index finger, quietly bringing her mouth to his.

Her lashes flutter open when he pulls away slowly, her head tilting downwards, attention shifting to look at where she sat in his lap.

His cock twitches against the restraints of his boxers, hardened and throbbing as a patch of wetness gradually grows where the head lay.

“Can I?” Shae asks, looking up at him shyly. He nods in answer, watching as she pulls his underwear down just enough that his length springs free, slapping against his stomach.

Head falling back against the pillows propping him up, he releases an airy sigh when her hand wraps around him. Tentative and curious fingers gripping at his shaft to pull back his foreskin, smearing a new bead of precum along the reddened cap with the pad of her thumb.

“You don’t have to do anyth-,” He abruptly trails off, distracted by the way she presses his length against her puffy folds, wetting him with the warm mixture of saliva and arousal slick between her legs.

Shae moans when the tip of his cock briefly catches against her entrance. The prospect of having him inside her again, even after such a small window of time, appears to excite her as her breathing quickens.

“Would it be okay to…” She asks, occupied with the feeling of teasing her hole with the head of his cock. Steven groans at the way she clenches around nothing, seeming so desperate to be stretched open again.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Niyah. Anything.” He confesses, chest rising and falling in great heaves he was attempting to calm, wanting to let her know that he’d be fine even if she didn’t go all the way. She, however, accepts that as a means to continue, releasing a seemingly pleased sigh as she lowers down onto him.

Steven bites harshly into his lower lip, brows knitting and hands hovering hesitantly at her hips as she sinks further down. It became increasingly hard for him to form comprehensive thoughts when she squeezed and pulsated around him so desperately.

A gush of arousal slides along his length, and he just manages to hold in an almost pained wail, his muscles straining from this ultimate display of restraint. There was still a good three inches to go but he focused on his breathing, purposefully ignoring the urge to pull her down onto him the remaining distance that licked at his heels.

He allows her to set the pace that worked for her, her thighs tensing as she rides him, settling more into a wanton grind than moving in an up-and-down motion.

Her hands wander, from his chest, to his face, to the headboard behind him— unable to settle in one spot for long.

“Is this alright?” She asks breathlessly.

“Perfect.” He nods, dark curls beginning to stick to his forehead. “You’re a dream. Still not too sure you’re real.” He says, kissing her cheeks wherever he feels so inclined. The affection makes her whine.

“Nev—” Her words momentarily interrupted when the head of his cock nudges her walls at just the right angle. “Never done this before. ‘Ts my first time.”

“You’ve never ridden anyone before?” He asks stunned, eyes widening as she shakes her head, more arousal flooding his shaft.

“This is my first time, wanna make sure I’m doing it right.”

And perhaps he could’ve taken this information better, but Steven’s brain short circuits, and he’s unable to stop himself from wrapping his left arm around her shoulders.

With his cock still inside of her, he flips her down onto her back so that she’s tucked into his left side as he begins thrusting feverishly.

“Wanted to ride you more.” She indignantly protests amidst the moans he fucks out of her, her brows attempting to furrow unhappily. Although he watches as the euphoria appears to prevail and her face becomes racked with undeniable pleasure.

Left arm cradling her shoulders, he presses her knees to her chest by wrapping his right arm around the backs of her thighs, effectively locking her into a fetal position as he fucks her.

“I know you did, love. You were doing so good too. This cunt is so good for me, only fucked it twice now and it’s opening up for me so nicely.” He begins to ramble as the sounds of his bare hips meeting hers fill the room alongside her cries.

“You’re such a good girl letting me fuck you like this instead of getting ready for work. Didn’t you want to get dressed a moment ago? Want me to stop, sweetheart?” He asks with no real intention to follow through with it, fully enjoying the way she begins clinging to him desperately at even the thought of separating from him now.

“Want you, Steven! Wanna cum!” Shae speaks through warbled breaths, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to speak from how fast he was slamming into her in this bent position. Her whole form getting rocked in his arms as he worked her onto him— pussy now sloppy, wet and wholly malleable for him to do as he pleased with.

“You’re already soaking me, are you gonna wet it more? Fuc-, I can feel you gripping me everytime I pull out.” He continues, pressing kisses into her hairline. “You can do it. C’mon, give it to me, Niyah. Cum for me, lovely girl.”

Her orgasm seems to hit her all at once, eyes screwing tightly shut as he works her through it with firm thrusts and a soothing voice rumbling near her ear. “That’s it, that’s it. So good for me. So good, let it all out, love.”

He doesn’t think she realizes that she’s squirting, too thoroughly wrapped up her climax to register the waves of arousal that shoot out of her in turrets. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Squeezing me so tight... Want more, don’t you?” He pants heavily, looking over her face. The pleasure had washed out her features, leaving only his beautiful, needy girl behind.

His thrusts don’t halt, instead slowing into a lazy jerk of his hips as he feels his limit approaching as well, sitting on just the horizon for him.

“Gon-“ His breath hitches. “Gonna cum, where do you want it?” He asks as she presses kisses against his lips and chin, missing the mark a few times.

“In, hah- Inside. Want it inside.” And he moans. His lips smearing against her cheek, their foreheads touching as he holds her to him desperately, his hips beginning to pick up speed again. Fully chasing his finish now with reckless abandon.

“Favorite, favorite girl.” He mumbles borderline deliriously, rambling needily again. “Gonna have you full of me… Fuc- fuck. You’d look so pretty with a swollen tummy. Don’t wanna even pull out when I’m done, wanna keep you under me. You’d like that wouldn’t you, love?”

Shae whines at the prospect, holding onto him as the only stable thing available to her. Walls clenching around him one final time before he’s spilling into her, sheathing himself fully as he fills her til he’s empty. Hips stuttering when he’s done.

“I should get a plug for you.” He mumbles, eyes closed and face buried in her neck. “Have you going to work with me still inside of you, no one would know but us.”

“Steven.. fuck.” Her fingers find their way back into his hair.

“You like that idea, don’t you? Can feel you squeezing me everytime I mention it.”

“I like it…” She admits demurely, eying the ceiling. “It’s just that it’s a little embarrassing.”

“That you like being full of me?” He asks, lifting his head to look at her.

She clenches again.

“Steven-nnn.”

And he smiles. “Nothing embarrassing about that, love. ‘Ts just me.” His fingers tracing her hips lightly.

“If it was up to you, I bet I’d end up pregnant by next month.” She huffs with a laugh, bringing her hands to her face. And although it’s starting to soften, his cock gives a faint jump, just noticeable in her sensitive state.

She freezes, peeking through her fingers at him. He offers only a bashful smile.

“I know it’s a bit soon,” he starts.

“A bit, yeah.”

“But I can’t lie that I’m into it. It’s just a thought though.”

Shae purses her lips, biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe… eventually.”

“Yeah?” He asks, eyes widening a bit. Hopeful. “You think so?”

“Yeah.”

[lorenfangor]

I heard that #40 was super homophobic :/ so I skipped it. But now your fic is making me want to give it a try. How problematic is it? Are the characters worth it?

Okay.

Okay.

Let’s talk about #40.

The plot of The Other (a Marco POV) is that Marco sees an Andalite on a video tape sent in to some Unsolved Mysteries-esque TV show, and he assumes it’s Ax and hauls ass to save him from being captured. Ax, being Ax, has videotaped the show, and they pull it up and Tobias uses his hawk eyes to figure out that it’s not Ax, it’s another Andalite - one without a tailblade. Ax is appalled at the presence of this vecol (an Andalite word for a disabled person) and we find out that he and others of his species have deep ingrained prejudices against at least some kinds of disabled people.

Despite this, Marco and Ax go looking for the Andalite in question because he’s been spotted by national TV, and they meet a second one, named Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad. The vecol is Mertil-Iscar-Elmand, a former fighter pilot with a reputation and Gafinilan’s coded-gay life partner. The two of them have been on Earth since book 1; they crashed their fighters on the planet and have been trapped there thanks to the GalaxyTree going down. Gafinilan has adopted a human cover, a physics professor, and they’ve been living in secret ever since.

Thanks to that tape, Mertil has been captured by Visser Three, and he’s not morph-capable so he can’t escape. Gafinilan wants to trade the leader of the “Andalite Bandits” to the Yeerks to get his boyfriend back; he can’t fight to free Mertil because he’s terminally ill with a genetic disorder that will eventually kill him, and (it’s implied that) the Yeerks aren’t interested in disabled hosts, even disabled Andalite ones. Despite Ax’s ableism, the Animorphs agree to work with Gafinilan and free Mertil, and they’re successful. Marco ends the book talking about how there are all kinds of prejudices you’ll have to face and boxes that people will put you in, and you can’t necessarily escape them even if they’re reductive and inaccurate, but you can still live your life with pride.

So now that I’ve explained the plot, I’m gonna come out the gate saying that I love this book. I love it wholeheartedly, I love Marco’s narration, I love Ax having to deal with Andalite society’s ableism, I love these characters, and as a disabled lesbian I don’t find these disabled gays to be inherently Bad Rep.

that’s of course just my opinion and it doesn’t overshadow other issues that people might have? but at the same time, I don’t like the seemingly-common narrative that this book is all bad all the time, and I want to offer up a different read.To that end, I’m going to go point by point through some of the criticisms and common complaints that I’ve seen across the fandom over the years.

“Mertil and Gafinilan were put on a bus after one appearance because they were gay!”

this is one I’m going to have to disagree with hardcore. I talked about this yesterday, but in Animorphs there are a lot of characters or ideas that only get introduced once or twice and then get written off or dropped - in order off the top of my head, #11 (the Amazon trip), #16 (Fenestre and his cannibalism), #17 (the oatmeal), #18 (the hint of Yeerks doing genetic experiments in the hospital basement), #24/#39/#42 (the Helmacrons’ ability to detect morphing tech), #25 (the Venber), #28 (experiments with limiting brain function through drugs), #34 (the Hork-Bajir homeworld being retaken, the Ixcila procedure), #36 (the Nartec), #41 (Jake’s Bad Future Dream), and #44 (the Aboriginal people Cassie meets in Australia) all feature things that either seem to exist just for the sake of having a particular trope explored Animorphs-style or to feature an idea for One Single Book.

This is a series that’s episodic and has a very limited overall story arc because of how children’s literature in the 90s was structured - these books are closer to The Saddle Club, Sweet Valley High, Animal Ark, or The Baby-Sitters’ Club than they are to Harry Potter or A Series of Unfortunate Events. Mertil and Gafinilan don’t get to be in more than one book because they’re not established in the main cast or the supporting cast, I don’t think that it’s solely got anything to do with their being gay.

“Gafinilan has AIDS, this is a book about AIDS, and that’s homophobic!”

Okay, this is… hard. First, yes, Gafinilan does have a terminal illness. Yes, Gafinilan is gay. No, Soola’s Disease is not AIDS.

I have two responses to this, and I’ll attack them in order of their occurrence in my thought. First, there’s coded AIDS diseases all over genre fiction, especially genre fiction from that era, because the AIDS epidemic made a massive impact on public life and fundamentally changed both how the public perceived illness and queerness and how queer people themselves experienced it. I was too young to live through it, but my dad’s college roommate was out, and my dad himself has a lot of friends who he just ceases to talk about if the conversation gets past 1986 or so - this was devastating and it got examined in art for more reasons than “gay people all have AIDS”, and I dislike the implication that the only reason it could ever appear was as a tired stereotype or a message that Being Queer Means Death. Gafinilan is kind, fond of flowers, and fond of children - he’s multifaceted, and he’s got a terminal illness. Those kinds of people really exist, and they aren’t Bad Rep.

Second off, Soola’s Disease? Really isn’t AIDS. It’s a congenital genetic illness that develops over time, cannot be transmitted, and does not carry a serious stigma the way AIDS did. Gafinilan also has access to a cure - he could become a nothlit and no longer be afflicted by it, even if it’s considered somewhat dishonorable to go nothlit to escape that way. That’s not AIDS, and in fact at no point in my read and rereads did I assume that his having a terminal illness was supposed to be a commentary on homosexuality until I found out that other people were assuming it.

“Mertil losing his tail means he’s lost his masculinity, and that’s bad because he’s gay! That’s homophobic!”

so this is another one I’ve gotta hardcore disagree with, because while Mertil is one of two Very Obviously Queer Characters, he’s not the only character who loses something fundamental about himself, or even loses access to sexual and/or romantic capability in ways he was familiar with.

Tobias and Arbron both get ripped out of their ordinary normal lives by going nothlit in bad situations, and while they both wind up finding fulfillment and freedom despite that, it’s still traumatic, even more for Arbron I’d say than for Tobias. And on a psychological level, none of the main cast is left unmarked or free of trauma or free of deep change thanks to the bad things that have happened to them - they’re no less fundamentally altered than Mertil, even if it’s mental rather than physical. And yes, tail loss is equated with castration or emasculation, but that doesn’t automatically mean Mertil suffering it is tied to his homosexuality and therefore the takeaway we’re intended to have is “Being gay is tragic and makes you less of a man”. This is a series where bad shit happens to everyone, and enduring losses that take away things central to one’s self-conception or identity or body is just part of the story.

Also, frankly? Plenty of IRL disabled people have to grapple with a loss of sexual function, and again, they’re not Bad Rep just because they’re messy.

“Andalite society is confusingly written in this book, and the disability aspects are clearly just a coverup for the gay stuff!”

Andalite society is canonically sexist, a bit exceptionalist and prejudiced in their own favor, and pretty contradictory and often challenged internally on its own norms. In essence, it’s a pretty ordinary society, and they’re really realistic as sci-fi races go. It makes sense from that perspective that Andalites would tolerate scarring or a lost stalk eye or a lost skull eye, but not tolerate serious injuries that significantly impact your perceived quality of life. Ableism is like that - it’s not one-size-fits-all. I look at Ax’s reactions and I see a lot of my own family and friends’ behaviors - this vibes with my understanding of prejudice, you know?

“Mertil and Gafinilan have a tragic ending, which means the story is saying that being gay dooms you to tragedy!”

Mertil and Gafinilan have the best possible ending that they could ask for? They are victims of the war, they are suffering because of the war, they get the same cocktail of trauma and damage that every other soldier gets. But unlike Jake and Tobias and Marco, unlike Elfangor, unlike Aximili? Their ending comes in peace, in their own home. Gafinilan isn’t dying alone, he’s got the love of his life with him. Mertil isn’t going to be as isolated anymore, he’s got Marco for a friend. Animorphs is a tragedy, it’s not a happy story, it’s not something that guarantees a beautiful sunshine-and-roses ending for everyone, and I love tragedy, and so I will fight for this story. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it deserved better. But it’s not less meaningful just because it’s sad. Nobody is entitled to anything in this book, and it’s just as true for these two as it is for anyone else.

“It’s not cool that the only canonically gay characters in this series don’t get to be happy and trauma-free and unblemished Good Rep!”

This is one I can kind of understand, and I’ll give some ground to it, because it is sucky. The only thing I’ll say is that I stand by my argument that nothing that happens to Mertil and Gafinilan is unusual compared to what happens to the rest of the cast, and that their ending is way happier than Rachel and Tobias’s, or Jake and Cassie’s. But it’s a legitimate point of frustration, and the one argument I’ll say I agree has validity.

(Though, I also want to point out that I think there are plenty of equally queercoded characters in the story who aren’t Mertil and Gafinilan - Tobias, Rachel, Cassie, and Marco all get at least one or two moments that signal to me that they’re potentially LGBT+, not to mention Mr. Tidwell and Illim in #29 and their long-term domestic partnership. There’s no reason to assume that the only queer people here are those two aliens when Marco’s descriptions of Jake exist.)

“Marco uses slurs and reduces Gafinilan’s whole identity to his illness!”

Technically, yes, this is true, except putting it that way strips the whole passage of its context. Marco is discussing the boxes society puts you into, the ones you don’t have a choice about facing or escaping. He’s talking about negative stereotypes and reductive generalizations, he’s referring to them as bad things that you get inflicted upon you by an outside world or by friends who don’t know the whole story or the real you. The slurs he uses are real slurs that get thrown at people still, and they’re not okay, and the point is that they’re not okay but assholes are going to call you by them anyway. He ends by saying “you just have to learn to live with it”, and since this is coming from a fifteen-year-old Latino kid who we know is picked on by bullies for all sorts of reasons and who faces racism and homophobia? He knows what he’s talking about. He’s bitter about what’s been said and done, he’s not stating it like it’s a good thing.

Yes, absolutely, this speech is a product of its time, but it’s a product of its time that speaks of defiance and says “We aren’t what we’re said to be,” and in the year this was published? That’s a good message.

tl;dr The Other is good, actually, and Mertil and Gafinilan are incredible characters who deserve all the love they could possibly get.

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

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Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

�� RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[loverspersonas]

the most beautiful moment in life | viii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5.5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

a/n: i realize i’m updating really slowly and the reason for that is online school which is taking up pretty much all my time BUT it hasn’t stopped me from writing at all. i actually have many different scenes written already, they’re just not in order, so i have to kind of make myself write the scenes that are happening first before any of those, which is hard sometimes cause i have so many ideas :) 

i realize that the pace of the fic is also kind of slow and that’s because i don’t want to have such a big overarching plot (like some kind of mystery to solve or a big villain) but rather small subplots happening at the same time. it feels easier to me to develop characters and relationships and i get to include a lot of different plot ideas that way (and there is so much happening in hyyh). it’s also hard writing this cause the bangtan universe is really complicated when you think too much about it, and we don’t even know everything about it, so i have to work with what we have and what i know. 

so thank you guys for liking what i’m writing! i hope i can do the hyyh era some (even if it’s the tiniest amount) justice, and i hope you guys enjoy it too. and if you have feedback or ideas, i’d love to hear it!

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Remembering details from a dream was a lot harder than a nightmare. Nightmares had you waking up in a cold sweat, sometimes plaguing your mind throughout the day if they were intense enough. Dreams, however, were only alive while you were asleep, and then they slipped away from your mind like they never even happened.

For the past few weeks, you’d been getting dreams that you could mostly or somewhat recall more often. Vague, obscure scenes or flashes that changed sporadically because even in your dream state, you had no control over your mind.

But you noticed that they tended to involve people in your life. Your mother, Sana, your old friends, and the seven boys you’d unconsciously formed a friendship with over the past month. Of course, it didn’t have to mean anything. But some of them strangely stood out more than others. 

One time, you saw Namjoon standing in a dark area with a single white light illuminating his silhouette from above, and a cigarette slipping from between his fingers. Another time, there was Hoseok at what looked like a train station. He was walking along the train tracks at night like he couldn’t see you watching him. And then, there was a scene of Jungkook walking on to the road, changing almost immediately before a car swerved right into him. That was one thing you couldn’t forget. Because you remembered it had been you driving that car.

“Y/N?”

The voice of the exact boy you were thinking of broke through your string of thoughts. When you looked up, you suddenly remembered where you were. 

There were a lot of nice vast areas of green fields that belonged to the Academy. With iron benches and tables and the smell of oak trees, it was an ideal setting for many fundraisers, picnics and outdoor events. You were currently sitting cross legged on top of one of those gray metal tables right beside a tall tree that cast a shade over you and the seven others sitting around you. Judging by the way some of them were looking at you, you must’ve missed something in the conversation.

“Hmm?” you asked, glancing at Jungkook who was sitting beside you, also on top of the table.

“See, I told you she wasn’t listening,” Taehyung said to the two taller boys on either side of him. “Face it, Namjoon. The books were boring.”

While Seokjin seemed thoroughly amused, Namjoon’s expression was just the slightest bit annoyed, so you could tell this argument might have been going on for a while. But his patience with Taehyung and the some of the other boys was astounding to you.

On the opposite side of the bench, Yoongi was sitting with Jimin and Hoseok, and quirked a brow in Taehyung’s way. “You literally said that you watched the Lord of the Rings a month ago.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So?” Namjoon repeated, and the tick in his jaw represented the snapping of his patience. “They have the exact same plot!”

You found yourself drifting from the rest of the conversation again, as some of the other boys began to chime in. On your lap was a notebook you realized you’d been scribbling in with a pencil while the others had been talking. It was hard to decide which was more concerning— the fact that you’d so effectively tuned out the boys, or that you were only vaguely aware that you’d been drawing at the same time.

You felt someone studying you in your peripheral vision. Jungkook decided to finally nudge you. “Not interested in fantasy novel series?”

“No, I—just spaced out for a second,” you answered lamely.

His earlier grin morphed into a slight frown. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? “Yeah.”

His gaze dropped to your open book, widening a little in mild surprise. “I thought you said you couldn’t draw.”

“I don’t. Art class was an ironic choice that way.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin said as he leaned over Jungkook to get a better look. Slowly, the others turned their attention towards you too. “This is pretty good.”

Hoseok, who was one of the ones in closest proximity to you, stretched out his hand so you could pass him the book. “Woah.” He went through a few various facial expressions, a lot of them where he scrunched up his eyebrows. “What’s the inspiration behind that?”

“Probably not those dry as hell books,” Taehyung retorted.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate to shove the loud mouthed boy off of the bench, earning more than a few laughs from everyone. Taehyung shot him a glare with an offended hey! 

“Nothing,” you answered him. “I just got distracted.”

The notebook was now in Namjoon’s hand and his expression was contemplative as he fixated his eyes onto the page. “You got distracted and absentmindedly drew this? With no idea in your head?”

“I had a dream.” You gave a shrug, stealing a few potato chips from Jungkook’s snack. “So, I drew it.”

“A dream like this?”

You looked back at him, trying not to frown. “Why, is it that weird?”

“Not weird,” he assured. “Just… a little unusual. I’ve never met anyone our age who would come up with stuff like this from their subconscious.”

“Who’s the boy supposed to be?” Yoongi asked after the book got rotated to him.

“I don’t know,” you answered. There hadn’t been a real chance to glimpse the boy from that scene. All you remembered was the black hair and the white shirt he was wearing as he stood looking out the only window in a plain room with only a mattress and white flower petals scattered on the floor. “Some random guy, I guess.”

“Everyone we see in our dreams are people we’ve seen at some point in our lives,” Namjoon said.

You gave this a considerative hum. Though you knew maybe thirty people who could fit in that description. “Well, I don’t remember then.”

“Let me see,” Seokjin said, taking the book in his hand. A moment later, his face morphed into something you couldn’t quite decipher. But it was like for that moment, he had understood something without realizing it.

“Why the hell are so many people out here at this time?” Jimin spoke up as a few students or groups of them began to appear on the field or pathway, spilling out from the building. “This is when it’s supposed to be the quietest here. I was looking forward to not seeing… pretty much everyone.”

“It’s not like we own this place,” Jungkook reminded him.

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as the bright young things don’t show up…“

And just like on cue, the group of cheerleaders and jocks were walking on the opposite side of the field. You didn’t let your attention linger on the old group of friends you didn’t want anything to do with anymore. But as you glanced away, Yoongi caught your eyes as though he knew what you were thinking.

“Way to go, Jimin,” Hoseok said, giving the boy a light shove. “You just manifested it.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat. “Seeing them this early in the day is really bad for my digestion.”

“Who told you to shove two chocolate muffins down your throat?” Yoongi said to him, referring to the now empty plastic container sitting beside you. You’d made a large quantity of them the other day and after recalling how Hoseok had liked your baking—and all his following requests over texts to make more— maybe the others would like something too. 

The younger boy didn’t acknowledge the harmless judging tone he’d used. “My inner subconscious, which by the way, I have no regrets about.”

“It’s great how you can say that so confidently about something in your life,” Namjoon said with slight skeptical wonder.

“Y/N made those muffins for us with all her heart and soul—“

“Actually, it was just flour and sugar...” you mumbled though your voice was mostly lost under theirs.

“I was just displaying my gratitude,” Taehyung said finally.

“The muffins were actually really good,” Seokjin said to you as he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to you. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Y/N’s a good baker,” Hoseok affirmed before looking at you. “How long did you say you’ve been at it for?”

“Not that long.” You twisted your dyed blonde hair into a bun and slid the pencil you’d been drawing with through it to hold it in place. “I just picked it up this year.”

Taehyung looked at you with a grin. “I guess I’ll have to annoy you enough at work to get stuff for free.”

You returned it with an exaggerated smile. “You come to work during my shift, I’ll have security ask you to leave for harassment.”

His mouth fell open. “B-but I’ll tip!”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

With his arms folded over his chest, he glanced around sombrely. “This is how brittle friendship is, I guess. Like a dark chocolate bar.” 

Namjoon, hiding his amusement with an arched brow, said, “Taehyung, remind me to never ask you for poetry recommendations.”

“Hey.”

Everyone seemed to fall into a silence, realizing that voice didn’t belong to any of you. They turned their heads towards the new arrival, but you didn’t have to look to know who’d approached the table. At first, you thought you could get away without saying anything, but the rest of the boys were casting imperceivable glances in your direction. Finally, one of the others did what you didn’t want to.

“Hi,” Namjoon said to the boy who’d once been the closest to you.

Min-hyuk stood there, as though expecting you to eventually say something to him. Then he looked around the group, smiling his friendly, star quarterback smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Min-hyuk.”

“We know who you are,” Yoongi said, the cold undertones in his voice not going unheard by anyone. Leave it to him to keep things harsh but real.

Min-hyuk, probably not used to hearing that kind of tone with that sentence, stared at the boy, a little dumbfounded. “Oh…”

Namjoon—you reminded yourself to tell the guy what a blessing he was— stepped in again. It was probably good that it was him who was leading the conversation. You’d learned by now that none of the others were quite as sensible and level headed when they needed to be. “What he means is, do you need something?”

“Can we talk, Y/N?” Min-hyuk asked finally, the question you’d been dreading, because now it was explicitly directed at you.

You held back a defeated sigh and said, “I have class in a few—“

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

He seemed to be somewhat satisfied when you looked up at him and nodded just imperceptibly. He started to move away from the table, and you made a move to follow when a hand gently closed around your wrist.

“You know, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Jungkook said quietly but firmly. His eyes held something like concern, and gazing around the table, the others wore similar expressions.

“Yeah,” you said. “But he won’t stop until I do.”

Jungkook released his hand from yours, watching as you got up and walked over to where Min-hyuk was waiting.

You put your hands in your pockets, right away saying, “Let’s get right to point this time, shall we?”

“I left you a note the other day,” he said, not happy with your attitude, but not able to say anything to it either. “You didn’t reply.”

“That was you?” you asked, dumbly. “I didn’t realize.”

“Come on, Y/N. Who else would write you that?” He paused. “My mother said she saw you at the hospital yesterday. Is everything okay?”

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead mostly looking at the ground. If your eyes drifted around too much, you were afraid to see that other students were watching you like a movie scene. You knew that the seven boys you’d just left were certainly doing that. “Uh huh,” you answered, without any emotion.

Min-hyuk held back an impatient noise. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I just want to know you’re doing fine.”

This time, you did look up to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” He was partly taken aback with surprise at your response. “We might not be together anymore, but it’s not like I just don’t care all of a sudden.”

“You didn’t care before.”

He stared at your expression, like he was wondering if you meant it. “Do you really think that?“

“You were never on my side.”

“What?”

Before, this would’ve been hard for you to talk about, because you’d only ever avoided it. To think about it would make you think about all the times you knew you should’ve walked away, the times that you stood there and just took everything when you knew you deserved better than that. But maybe it was time to rip the bandaid off. How long were you going to go back and forth like this? How long was he going to try to hold on to you when you wanted out?

“You wanted to know where it all went wrong,” you spoke. “How about when you stood there and let everyone, even our own friends, say all those things about me. And when I asked you to trust me, you didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” He shook his head. At least he had the decency to look apologetic, to sound like he meant what he thought. “I–I wanted to trust you—“

“I think I see it now.” It was taking a lot of courage for you to finally say what you needed to say, and now that you finally found it, you didn’t even care that other people were watching or listening. “We were both so good at acting like everything about us was perfect. And as soon as I stopped, things changed. The difference between us is that one of us still pretending.”

“Min-hyuk!” One of his friends from the football team—one of your former ones— came up beside him, tapping his shoulder. He looked at you with the kind of friendliness that was reserved for any random student in the hallway. “Hi, Y/N. What are you guys talking about?”

Min-hyuk seemed to have nothing to say, his gaze on you fixed, but his mind on the words you’d spoken. You were glad you had the ability to leave him speechless, to see him actually opening his eyes to a world outside that bubble he lived in. The bubble that you’d also been a part of, but were now glad to have found a way out.

“Well,” you said to both of them. “I have class now.”

With your bag over your shoulder, you turned and headed for the building without paying attention to any of the stares that followed you.

By the end of the day, that courage and energy that had allowed you to speak up to Min-hyuk had dissipated. Hopefully, he wouldn’t approach you again any time soon. Was it asking too much to not be approached by anyone else at all?

Now, you were standing in front of the doors to the pool once again, looking inside, but not having the courage to go in. It was almost a metaphor for your life. You were standing on the outside of a part of your life from the past, not being able to actually go in and see it properly.

Yoongi’s figure materialized next to you, not saying anything at first as though he could tell you were deep in thought. So, you broke the silence first and asked, “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” he answered. “Guess which asshole of a teacher decided to assign us a 10 page paper due in less than a week?”

Glancing sideways at him, you grinned. “The one who probably has hypertension from having to teach you?”

He shot you a dry look, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little like he was also holding back a grin of his own. “You’re hilarious, princess. But also probably right.” He noticed your attention on the pool on the opposite of the doors. "What, are you not allowed to go in or something? Weren’t you on the swim team at some point?”

Instead of answering, you turned away from the doors and started walking down the hallway. “Weren’t you on the basketball team?”

As Yoongi walked alongside you, subtle surprise appeared on his face. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me that.”

“You were captain of the team too, right?” you asked. “That’s how I knew you.”

Something else flickered across his face, though you didn’t know what it was. To you, it was probably the face you wore when you were briefly and vaguely recalling something in your mind.  “Well, it’s always nice to hear that my reputation precedes me. And not just as a gothic, underground rapper.” He ignored your subtle roll of eyes. “I played shooting guard actually.”

You hummed, remembering all the basketball games you attended in the gymnasium with your old friends. As part of the cheerleading team, you’d had an obligation to be there, but some of the games actually got interesting to watch. The first time you’d noticed Yoongi was when one time you’d been running late and had been trying to not fall behind the rest of the team. You remembered dropping one of your pompoms while trying to tie your hair up, and in passing, he’d picked up and handed it to you. You didn’t think he remembered it, and maybe it was a little embarrassing that you did. 

“You were good too.” You stopped near the front doors, most of the students walking around you with no interest since it was the end of the school day. Yoongi shot you a slightly puzzled look. “I was a cheerleader, remember? I’ve been to a bunch of games.”

“I remember,” he said after a moment, and it didn’t sound like something you’d say to someone just to blindly agree with them, so that was why you ended up meeting his gaze. There was something underneath those deep gray eyes that you didn’t really understand, but somehow, still found it startling to hold eye contact.

You half forced a chuckle to move the attention away from you. “Besides, it’s kind of hard to miss the only guy on the team with dyed blonde hair.”

He chuckled. “I almost forgot about that.”

“How could you forget? You were literally my inspiration,” you said, gesturing to your own bleached hair. When he threw you a dubious side eye, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Surely, that would’ve tricked one of the other boys. “Alright, fine, you didn’t. You know, I definitely do not miss the 5 hour practices, or the tiny uniforms or Yuna screaming at some younger, clueless girl to stop slacking.”

“But the outfits were so cute,” Yoongi teased, and though you were glad the topic changed, you shot him an unamused glance. “It was a joke. On a related note… what did the ex-boyfriend want earlier?”

You arched a brow and held back an amused grin. “You can say his name, you know.”

“Yeah, but that would give him too much significance. Unnamed means unimportant.”

You hummed in agreement. “Nothing really.”

“Is that why you ditched us afterwards without so much as a word?” he asked skeptically.

You tried not to sound irritated about it, but you’d hoped you could make it through the day without having to talk about it. “I ditched you, because I wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about it.”

“How quickly you assume we would interrogate you.”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Fine,” he grumbled after some seconds. “At least 3/7ths of us might. Can you really blame us for being curious? It looked kind of intense.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a grin forming on your lips. “Remember how you said you didn’t care? Well, it’s starting to sound a little like you do.”

He scoffed. “Please. You mistake my blind curiosity for something it isn’t.” He watched you a little longer as you shrugged before saying, “Remember when you said I was good at deflecting? You’re not so bad at it yourself.”

A part of you thought that this was a good time as any to actually talk about it. About how you’d cut things off with Yuna and Min-hyuk, and why you’d wanted to. By now, you felt like you could tell any of the seven boys and they’d listen—actually listen—and Yoongi, despite coming off as aloof and indifferent, wouldn’t judge you or anything. But this recent bond with them felt like a new and good thing, and you just didn’t want to jeopardize it, like you did with most things.

"Do you a need ride home?” Yoongi asked when he realized you were too deep in your head to say anything else about it. “I’m giving Jungkook one too, so I can drop you off after.”

“You go ahead,” you answered. “I have some stuff to do first.”

At first, he seemed almost reluctant to leave you alone, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t insist or comment on it. It would contradict his indifference to most things. Only after he left did you turn and start aimlessly walking down the other side of the hallway. It wasn’t like you had anything to do. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to be around anyone with curiosity like Yoongi’s lingering above your head. Talking about yourself and your personal life was never fun.

Eventually, you ran into another familiar face. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Namjoon said as he approached you in the hall.

“If this is about this morning, I’d rather not talk about it,” you decided to say immediately because if anyone could get answers from you by asking the right questions, it was probably Namjoon.

Fortunately for you, Namjoon could’ve read that from a mile away and wasn’t one to pry. He nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. Oh, hold on a second.” From his backpack, he drew out some loose papers tucked into a notebook. “I went through some of these to find whatever was legible enough.”

You scanned the writing briefly. “Your English notes?”

“Yeah, I remember you said the last class went over your head.” 

“I just don’t understand why it’s bought and not buyed, but it’s walk and walked? Like why can’t they can’t follow the same rule for every past tense conjugation?” you complained, but still a little touched that he remembered something you’d probably said in passing. “But thanks.”

“Also, if you see Taehyung, can you let him know I can’t walk home with him today?”

You nodded. “Sure. Staying back for extra work?”

“No, I—I have a shift today.”

You wondered why he sounded reluctant to answer. “Where do you work?”

“It’s a library,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s on the other side of the city, so I like to leave a little earlier.”

You shot him an amused grin. “Were there no libraries nearby hiring? Because I know if they saw your GPA, they would not hesitate.”

“Uh, this one has a nicer collection.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding not to question his responses since he hadn’t questioned you. But for some reason, it felt like he was trying to hide something. “See you tomorrow then.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you had to stop the curiosity from getting to you. It truly was an ordeal to be so curious and not want to intrude upon things that didn’t concern you. You had to remind yourself that it was better that information came to you at the right time rather than forcing it. At first, the reminder was about other people, but sometimes, you thought it was also about yourself.

After exiting through the west doors, you noticed Taehyung at the bottom of the staircase right outside the building. He was leaning against the railing, hood over his head and concentrated on whatever game he was playing on his phone. You slowed your steps, approaching the stairs. “You’re still here.”

Taehyung glanced up at you, slipping his phone into his pocket as you came towards him.  “Waiting for Namjoon. The kid’s a genius, but his punctuality could use a little improvement.”

You quirked a brow. “Kid? He’s older than you.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he said pointedly, “And I’m older than you. So how about you don’t question me?”

You had to bite back a smile at his antics. It was hard to believe sometimes that most of these boys were older than you. “He told me to tell you he has work today, so he can’t make it.”

He let out a loud and dramatic groan, practically cringing at himself. “For real? I probably look like some idiot, waiting on the stairs for his even more of an idiot boyfriend.”

You shrugged, not hiding the smile this time. “Just a little.”

He looked back at you. “How are you getting home? I’ll walk with you.”

He already started walking, expecting you to follow, so you didn’t get a chance to reply. With a defeated sigh, you decided to go after him.

Your first mistake was choosing to walk all the way home instead of taking the bus. Your second mistake was letting Taehyung take the lead, because that boy looked like he’d never had a plan a day in his life. While you somewhat admired the spontaneity, you were used to routine or a plan of some kind. Although you did suppose that this year, everything that had happened, and was happening now, was not planned at all.

“I’ve never gone this way before.” 

The buildings were older and a bit worn away, but almost in an intentional manner, posters and signs on the gray brick walls. You passed several small shops and restaurants and cafes that despite appearing quaint seemed very cute. The people that walked by were all in their own worlds, not so much as glancing at you or anyone near them. It was something like a secret tourist spot or a hidden gem.

“Really?” Taehyung said. He walked on your right, but a little ahead. You wanted to say it was because he was leading the way, but that presumed he knew where he was going. “This street’s pretty cool. Hidden away from the centre, though, so you don’t really know about it until you come yourself.”

You removed your eyes from an old bookstore with a chalkboard sign outside. “You must do a lot of exploring, huh?”

“Whatever gets me out of the house.” He stopped walking abruptly. When you stopped to ask what was wrong, you saw a mischievous smile form on his face. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

“Why am I kind of doubtful?”

Despite the many, many questions you asked, Taehyung didn’t answer any of them. He could try and be mysterious if he wanted, but you wouldn’t buy it, was what you said to him. Instead, you waited outside while he went into a convenience store for a few minutes. You shouldn’t have been so surprised when he emerged with a plastic bag in hand, full of bottles of spray paint. You opened your mouth to ask what he was planning, but he just tugged on your arm and made you follow him around the corner.

The street you stopped at had to be somewhat of a visual arts scene, because you recalled passing arts and crafts places and small galleries, and the wall that stood in front of you now was a graffiti wall.

“This is so cool,” you said in awe, all thoughts of skepticism at Taehyung’s actions gone. Your gaze roamed over the various artwork and writing, painted on by different kinds of paint and people and minds. It was like an anonymous outlet for creativity and self expression, something like in the olden days when things like freedom of expression was outlawed, so people had to get creative around it.

“I love all kinds of art,” Taehyung said, dropping his backpack and crouching near the ground. “But graffiti has become more interesting recently. Here.”

You looked to see that he was holding out a can of spray paint for you. “This is vandalizing.”

He half scoffed, half laughed. “This is an artistic statement.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive, Taehyung.”

“Relax, Y/N.” He placed the can in your hand himself after he decided that you wouldn’t take it, then took another out of the bag for himself. “I’ve done this billions of times. You won’t get caught.”

Despite yourself, there was an urge in you to just do it, get your hands a little messy. That was why you liked to bake after all, wasn’t it? That was why you chose art class. You could make a mess and make something good out of it. You could control something instead of being controlled. But turning back to the wall of art and messages and stories, you hesitated. “I can’t paint like this,” you tried lamely.

Taehyung shot you a look. “I saw your sketch today. It was far from shitty.” After a minute of waiting, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.”

The way he walked up the an empty section of the wall with confidence, how he shook the paint can and effortlessly began to draw strokes in red paint told you that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d done this a lot. 

When he finished, he stepped back to where you stood, briefly appraising his work before saying, “Your turn. Don’t think too much. Just whatever’s on your mind, let it out.”

So, you found yourself closing your eyes briefly, and releasing a breath before stepping forward. You pushed on the paint can’s nozzle and let your mind take over for your hand and for a few minutes, all that was heard was the faint car engines in the distance and the spraying noise of the paint. Finally, you let your arm drop to see what you’d made. It was a pair of blue wings like a butterfly’s.

Taehyung studied the wall for a moment before humming, “Interesting.”

“By interesting, you mean awful.”

He shot you a look. “By interesting, I mean interesting. You and Namjoon might like to have second meanings to your sentences, but I’m a simple guy.”

“Uh huh.” You watched him move back to the wall and start painting something else. It was funny how before you’d known him, you had him pegged for some kind of reckless skater boy with a rebellious streak. He was actually more of an artsy boy with a rebellious streak. “I guess it would be easier if everyone wasn’t always pretending to be something they’re not.”

“Was Min-hyuk pretending to be a super nice guy again?” He only glanced over his shoulder at you when he didn’t get an answer. Of course this topic would’ve inevitable come up although you’d also assumed Taehyung would avoid uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. “None of those guys are all what they show. It’s good that you hit one of them. You might accidentally activate some part in the brain that knocks some sense into them.”

You nodded at this, slightly amused. “If that was how neurobiology worked.”

“Let’s experiment. Hit me over the head really hard and tomorrow, let’s see if I pass my math test.”

You were holding back a laugh when your gaze fell on part of his drawing. “Is that your signature?”

“Oh, that... it’s kind of like my alias,” Taehyung said almost like it was embarrassing for him to say. This must have been the first time he’d told someone about his side hobby. “For when I’m out painting.”

“For when you’re out vandalizing,” you remarked.

He mocked the face you’d made earlier and said, “They’re not mutually exclusive, Y/N.”

You let out a scoff, but couldn’t hide your amusement. “What does it mean? The V?”

“It’s short for Vante.”

You hummed. “Interesting.”

“You mean interesting good or interesting bad?”

“I mean interesting,” you said, deepening your voice a little to mock him.

The side of his mouth curved into a grin. “Touche.”

Returning your attention to the wall, your eyes began to study the various drawings, fleetingly going back to another wall and another drawing. “You haven’t seen anything like the hwa yang yeong hwa we saw before, have you?”

“No,” Taehyung answered, then gave it another thought. “Not that I’ve been to a lot of graffiti places outside of this area. But from where I have looked around, it’s made me think that maybe this... Smeraldo person isn’t a regular graffiti artist.”

“As in, this was just a one time thing for them?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess that means it’s not just graffiti we should be looking at,” you speculated. “It’s definitely a start but could be any art form.”

“Or maybe the art is just a way to get it out there.”

You frowned. “Meaning what? Someone’s trying to say something? To send a message?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible, yeah.”

His attention refocused on the drawing he’d started, but your mind began to run through possible explanations. What if somehow someone was trying to say something? More importantly, what if someone was trying to say something to you?

The sun was beginning to lower by the time you reached Taehyung’s place. You didn’t even realize the two of you had been out for a while with his detour idea. 

You tilted your head up to observe the apartment building complex. Since you’d never been to this part of the city before, you couldn’t say much about it. But by the oldness and the obvious low maintenance of the building, you guessed that the rent was affordable. Taehyung, like you, wasn’t one of the richer kids of the Academy. You supposed that the talent that had gotten him in was art related, if not painting specifically.

“Is this where you live?” you asked to break the silence.

“Yup,” Taehyung said, popping the sound at the end. “Home sweet…” He trailed off a little as his faraway gaze crossed the building, instead turning back to you. “Do you live close by? I can walk with you.”

You made a dubious face. “Are you sure you want to walk there and then all the way back?”

“Hey, I may be lazy, but I’m not that lazy.”

“I don’t need protecting, if that’s what you were going to say.”

He scoffed. “Obviously not. You broke a guy’s fucking jaw!”

“It wasn’t actually broken,” you muttered before shaking your head. “Wouldn’t you rather go home? Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“No one’s waiting for me.” Before you could say anything, he waved it away, his long hair hiding the expression on his face you were trying to read. “It’s fine. Forget it.”

But he didn’t make a move to walk towards the complex’s stairs that led up to the first floor. Even as you stood there for another minute and he just stood with you, you realized he wasn’t about to head home regardless of if you left now or stayed. And for a moment, you wondered if this was what he had meant that day weeks ago. No one’s waiting for me. It was a thought that had held a place in your mind for a long time too.

It’s better not to force information you don’t even need to know, a voice in the back of your head reminded. Finally, you said, “Are you hungry? I could go for some coffee, and the Brew’s not far from here.”

Taehyung turned to look at you. If he was grateful for the chance to avoid going home, he didn’t show it. “Will you give me a discount?”

“If you stop talking, I’ll pay for your entire order.”

The carefree smile that stretched across his face as he started dragging you towards the next street was enough for you to know that he was, in fact, at least a little grateful.

chapter vii // chapter ix (coming soon)

[breadboylovin]

NEW POST FOR MY 95060 PLAYLIST!!! complete with explanations of every song choice under the cut because i love explaining my own creative decisions for some reason (PLEASE DO NOT FEEL COMPELLED TO READ ALL OF IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO ITS VERY LONG LOL). i may add a few songs here and there later on, or more likely rearrange what i've already put in slightly, but for now i consider it done.

alright now heres a look into my twisted mind

PART 1: TEMPTATION

Franz Ferdinand - Michael: It's a song about seducing someone named Michael. What more can I ask for (serious explanation is that it’s also very homosexually charged like you just have to listen to it… also feels taunting in a way where it’s like ‘oooooh you want me so bad’ and he’s RIGHT Michael DOES want him so bad). Also credit to this post for letting me know this song existed and inspiring me to make this playlist in the first place :-3

Mystery Skulls - Paralyzed: Just another song about how Michael is awestruck by David and feels compelled to follow him for whatever reason (the reason is that he wants him so bad)

TAEMIN - WANT: This is one of three Taemin songs on here because I think if David survived until present day he would fucking LOVE Taemin. Anyways this is a song about knowing you’re hot shit and everyone wants you and I think after seducing Michael through fucking?? Fatal motorcycle races and evil noodle mind tricks??? David deserves to feel that

Glass Animals - Gooey: OHGHGHGHFH THIS SONG… the vibes are impeccable on this one, Dave Bayley’s alluring voice feels like a slight remix of what David is going for and the way it feels like the singer is trying to convince the listener of something (even though it’s purposely vague) just FEELS like David with Michael. The line “I can’t take this place, I can’t take this place/I just need to go where I can get some space” especially fits when imagining how Michael is new to Santa Carla and may want a place to belong that David and the boys are happy to provide

TAEMIN - Impressionable: I see this as the moment that Michael downs the bottle of “wine”, where this song is David’s internal monologue reveling in how easy it was to charm Michael and get him to join. I always thought this sounded like a taunting villain song so it just fits. Also it’s like ridiculously horny which is a plus

PART 2: THE RELATIONSHIP ITSELF

MGMT - Me and Michael: In my head this is directly after Michael drinks the “wine”, and if it were an actual song in the movie, it’d play instead of Cry Little Sister in that scene. I already made art related to this but I really just love the juxtaposition between something that Michael will later see as horrible (becoming a half-vampire) and David seeing it as a perfect slow-dance moment. Also “Me and Michael, it’s not a question now” because the blood drinking has now linked them together… mmmmm. Credit to this post again for making me find this song!!

ALI - DESPERADO: This one is less about David and Michael specifically and more about how the night in the cave went down for everyone there, starting with a soft slowness as they ate and then descending into chaos as Michael downs the wine and they celebrate a new addition to the pack. The bacchanal energy is off the charts

Dorian Electra - Man to Man: This song is just one that I attribute to all of the boys because I think they do a lot of homoerotic sparring. Also the part of the movie where Michael punches David in the face and David just goes >:-3 back at him

Chase Atlantic - Friends: I don't know what it is about this one but it just Hits… The chorus kinda sounds like David and the boys trying to convince Michael to stay with them instead of coming back to human society after drinking the blood, in the same sort of taunting manner that they had when David (presumably?) made Michael hallucinate the bike lights and sounds outside of his house

Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer: THIS SONG IS JUST REALLY GOOD. I don't know what it is about this one either… I guess the “Maybe I should hate you for this/Never really did ever quite get that far” part could represent the first glimpse of Michael’s more conflicted feelings about David. Also the second half of verse 2 not only fucks so hard but could also be indicative of Michael’s repressed gay feelings, lying to himself about how he wanted to be around David because he’s cool or whatever but he actually just has the hots for him and would let him do anything if he asked to

MGMT - Little Dark Age: Mostly here just for vibes. Have y’all seen that one edit set to this song? Yeah

The Neighborhood - Prey: I feel like this song captures the general unease that Michael feels right before he sees the boys kill for the first time, knowing that he’s probably turning into a vampire and something horrible is happening… especially with “Something is wrong, I feel like prey” just generally describing what it must feel like to be a human among vampires (though he’s not fully human anymore at this point)

PART 3: REALIZATION + FIGHTING BACK

TAEMIN - Criminal: YET ANOTHER TAEMIN SONG!!!! It’s all about realizing you're with someone who’s like, an evil manipulative villain and genuinely bad for you but you can’t escape just yet because you’re kinda into it. I don't think David is THAT bad of a guy, but Michael could be like “I need to get out of this situation because this man is a vampire but I feel attracted to him and it’s hard to really get away”. Also the line “My hands holding yours that stabbed me are not clean either” just HITS cus Michael hates David’s vampirism but HE’S a half-vampire now so it’s not like he’s innocent either. This is just a really good 95060 song AND a good song in general, listen to it even if you don't normally like K-pop cus it slaps

Glass Animals - Wyrd: This would be the moment where Michael snaps out of it and just starts running away, but to no avail, because he’s still a half-vampire (“You can’t run so you must hide” meaning that he can’t outrun his new monstrous nature, the best he can do is hide it until it eats him alive). Meanwhile David laments over how this is a stupid decision from his perspective (“So, my friend, our time is done/You and I could’ve had so much”)

Moonface - Minotaur Forgiving Theseus: This is a very veeeeery bitter song from Michael’s perspective about David being a vampire… with the “You’re just a hitman” repetition referencing how David. Y’know. Eats people. And the “I heard you're coming for me now” references both how David first approached him and the impending confrontation

The Neighborhood - The Beach: This song goes from the bitterness of the previous one to a pseudo-acceptance of the end of their brief friendship and what’s inevitably going to happen next. However, I think the bridge of the song illustrates the little bit of Michael that doesn’t want this to happen, that wants this relationship to somehow work out because he cares about David even if he is a vampire (unfortunately he ends up repressing this because he feels a duty to kill David now)

Gorillaz - Rhinestone Eyes: This is mostly in here because of the music video, the buildup to a battle just echoes in my head whenever I hear this song now. In the context of this playlist it makes me imagine David looking up at the Emerson’s house from the hotel (and Michael doing the opposite) knowing that something’s about to happen and it’s going to be horrible

Glass Animals - JDNT: This entire song feels like the climax of the movie. Verse 1 feels like the Emersons and Frogs getting ready to attack the cave (“I’m all armored up”) with “I feel that final poke” being when Marko gets staked, and the chorus right after is a tinge of regret that Michael feels once the plan starts to take shape. Verse 2 is the other boys waking up to see that Marko is dead + them dying themselves (“Where my funny friends gone?”) and the bridge is Michael and David’s fight before Michael finally gores David on the antlers. The outro of “You can’t breathe without me” VERY much feels like David taunting Michael from beyond the grave, knowing how much Michael loved him and how horrible what he’s just done is

PART 4: GRIEF

The Brazen Youth - Burn Slowly/I Love You: Ooooooghghgh the conflicted feelings about their relationship is STRONG in this one… The “Burn Slowly” part being him trying to convince himself that he did the right thing by killing David while the “I Love You” part is him realizing that he really did love David and it fucking hurts

Sufjan Stevens - The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us: MAN. MAN… Everything past “I can’t explain the state that I'm in” is just so… it’s Michael realizing what he had even more and just how much it hurts that he’s lost it. He knows he was in love now and it fucking hurts SO MUCH!!!!!

Sufjan Stevens - The Only Thing: [head in my fucking hands] Michael moping around Santa Carla because it feels empty without David. All the “should I tear my eyes out now?/Should I tear my heart out now?” parts oh my GOOOOOOOOD sufjan stevens i'm going to slap you on the head.

Paramore - Tell Me How: THIS SONG HURTS SO MUCH ITS SO. It’s another one about conflicting feelings so theoretically it should be earlier in the story but I always envision something very morbid when listening to this (and have now written a fic about it so check that out)… Michael going back to the hotel where he put David’s body and musing to no one, asking how he’s supposed to feel now, the “And always coming to your defenses” where Michael keeps defending David and their relationship to his family who all think David was a horrible monster… this song fucking hurts. Also I unintentionally drew a parallel between JDNT’s “You can’t breathe without me” and this song’s “Do I suffocate or let go?” and now that I’ve realized that it hurts even more. Fuck this song

[hopscotchandlemon]

2021 - A Year in Writing

In the past, I’ve dutifully reblogged those fic writers asks. I’ve even asked questions of other writers. However, no one asks me them, or at least, the ones I really want to answer.

So this year, I’m going to pick 3 fics that I’ve written in the last 12 months. They’re ones I hold dear for various reasons, as I shall explain…

To See Her Face.

This was my first proper attempt at a Slibbs fics. I started it at the beginning of the year and didn’t get chance to look at it again until I spent some time at my parents’ house in March. Writing this was taking my mind of the fact my mum was dying and she died the day after I posted this. This is by far, the most popular fic I’ve ever written (I did not realise there was such a big Slibbs fanbase) and the comment notification came through steadily over the next few days. In a way, those notifications (many of which came through after she’d died) gave me some comfort at a really stressful and sad time. So if you commented on that one- Thank you!

My mum really liked NCIS. It wasn’t something I really got to talk to her about because her condition robbed her of the ability to communicate properly (although she smiled when I suggested she liked Gibbs 😉). One of the last things we did together in her last week was sit in her bed and watch episodes on TV. It took me a while to complete the second part as I had a complete writing wobble, but I’m glad it did as it adds the happy ending I think we all wanted for them. It was added just after what would have been my Mum’s birthday. It is dedicated to her.

Uneven Steps

I felt I really needed to write this. I do have a physical disability but nothing of the severity of the reader in this story. It’s important that we see disabled people in popular culture and not just to fill a diversity quota. I wanted to get across some of the battles disabled people have to fight just to be seen as an equal and I wanted them to be desired. I think Gibbs would be accepting of a disabled lover and adapt accordingly.

Hide and Seek (Collide Series)

I started the Collide series last year and it still remains my favourite fic. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to these characters, so I started adding the occasional one shot. I’ve picked this one because I liked the idea of a child getting the better of Gibbs and being able to outfox him in a simple game of hide and seek – a game you’d like to think he’d be quite good at.

I plan on writing more for this series, but only when the idea has merit I don’t want to waste them on a half-baked  story – I really do love them that much.

If you’re a fic writer, tell me about what the fics you’ve written have meant to you. Don’t wait to be asked. Let’s hear about the art you created in this god-awful year.

[hisheartsmile]

I'm Fine... Save Me - I (mini series)

Characters: Namjoon, Taehyung

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: anxiety attack, depression thoughts

'Come on, Tae, you can do it,' Taehyung thinks to himself. "Well, I don’t know…" He feels his face hotter than normal. He's pretty sure his ears are bright red. "Maybe... we could cuddle?"

"Cuddle? Wha-" Taehyung interrupts Namjoon. "Please?" His eyes are watery now. He tries hard not to break into tears. God, he hates being so sensitive. "I kinda need it right now." He hates to admit it, but it's true, he craves for some warmth, and not just anyone's.

A/N: Since this fic (and all the ones I've written so far) is canon compliant, I should tell you that this would take place after Namjoon and Taehyung stop being roommates. What Taehyung is going through is 'inspired' by Black Swan and the hardships BTS experienced at the beginning of 2018. Pardon my English and my poor writing skills. Please, enjoy!

***

Taehyung's heart races faster and faster as he walks towards Namjoon's room. He can't believe he's finally doing this, but he knows it's worse to keep his thoughts to himself, or at least that's what he tries to convince himself of - he'll feel better once he tells him. Still, he's so nervous his legs are like jelly. Shaking his head, he tries to calm himself.

Once he gets there, he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

He finds Namjoon lying on his bed, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Besides him, there is a Koya cushion. He looks peaceful and relaxed. In fact, he's immersed in one of his favourite art books so he doesn't even notice Taehyung's presence.

"Hey" says Taehyung finally.

The older rises his head. "Hey, what’s up?" he says smiling, his adorable dimples teasing his cheeks. 'How can he be so cute?' the younger thinks while approaching his hyung.

"Not much, just wanted to hang out with you for a bit, if you don't mind." Taehyung crinkles his eyes, showing off his boxy smile. Mentally thanking his acting skills, he can't believe how much he's shaking.

He can see that Namjoon was not expecting it, because he looks slightly surprised. "Oh, okay." He puts the book in the first drawer, then he moves a bit (dropping Koya on the floor in the process) so that Taehyung can seat beside him. The bed is softer than he'd imagined and, surprisingly, that helps him feel a bit more relaxed.

"You know, since we stopped being roommates I’ve been thinking." There is a pause. "About us." Namjoon knits his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Taehyung is somehow relieved, starting a serious conversation is more difficult than the conversation itself (or at least that's what Taehyung thinks), and he's done it. However, the younger doesn't have enough courage to look at his leader. Fitgeting with his fingers helps him a bit.

"Well, I think we didn't take advantage of it. We only slept and fought. We never watched a movie together or talked about stuff."

The leader remembers that time Taehyung stayed up until 5 am playing games. Even though that night he got angry and had wished he could sleep alone and have some peace for good, the memory warms his heart. "You’re right."

"Do you think we could do it now?" Again, Namjoon is confused. "What? Watch a movie or talk about stuff?"

'Come on, Tae, you can do it,' Taehyung thinks to himself. "Well, I don’t know…" He feels his face hotter than normal. He's pretty sure his ears are bright red. "Maybe... we could cuddle?"

Well, this is unexpected. Namjoon knows the maknae line and Hobi cuddle a lot, but none of them go to him for this. It's not that he doesn't like it, he just doesn't know where to put his hands or what to say... He feels a bit akward. But, in all honesty, saying that he hasn't thought of joining them more than once would be a lie. Taehyung turns to him and, seeing Namjoon's puzzlement in his eyes, he can't help but feel a bit hurt. Well, a lot.

"Cuddle? Wha-" Taehyung interrupts him. "Please?" His eyes are watery now. He tries hard not to break into tears. God, he hates being so sensitive. "I kinda need it right now." He hates to admit it, but it's true, he craves for some warmth, and not just anyone's.

Something in Namjoon's chest breaks. Then, he panics - he doesn't know how to react. What he knows, though, is that he can't stand seeing the younger like this. "Oh, Tae. Of course, cm’ere."

And so they cuddle. Taehyung is now hugging a pillow, staring at the door. He feels Namjoon's breath against his neck, the beating of his heart against his back, the warmth of his long and strong arms holding him tight. He doesn't want this to end, he could stay like this forever. In his arms, it's like nothing wrong can happen. But Tae promised himself he'll talk to Namjoon about everything that's happened.

"Are you cold? You're shaking," the leader asks. "No," he says.

"Well then, what’s wrong?" Taehyung takes a deep breath. "I just... I- I know it sounds stupid but..." 'Oh, God, I can't say it, but- but I have to. Why am I so nervous anyway? It's not that big of a deal... right? Ugh, please, now Joonie must think I'm dumb.'

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Namjoon reassures. Taehyung's heart melts. "No, no. I want to," he says, determined. "It's just that I feel stupid, I don't know why I'm feeling like this."

Namjoon smiles to himself. He knows what Taehyung's going through, he's had the same thoughts more than once.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling things, Tae. We can't control it. Um, would it help if I told you how I'm feeling right now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Okay. Well, I'm pretty nervous." He takes a deep breath. "Tomorrow I'm going to show Bang PD-nim a new song I'm writing and I'm, I don't know, I'm scared he will reject it."

Namjoon hadn't planned on telling him. He's actually quite surprised at this impulse, because he just said it to reassure Taehyung and soothe his nerves.

"Why? You're so talented, hyung, I love your songs." Namjoon strokes Taehyung's arm with affection, as if trying to tell him that he appreciates it.

"Tae, a lot of my songs have been rejected before, you know that, and every time it happens, I feel a bit more vurnerable. As if they were taking a small part of me. And there is a lot of pressure, considering I'm the leader and so... but I have to work hard either way."

This is something he's never said to anyone before. He's always thought that if the others knew how sensitive their leader is or how hard it is for him to get it right, they would start doubting his writing skills. Would they prefer to write songs with someone else? Would they question Namjoon's decisions? Somehow, he knows Taehyung will understand - not completely, of course, but at least he won't judge him. At the same time, he will keep him down to earth.

"I'm sorry. It must be difficult," Taehyung says simply. But it's all Namjoon needed to hear.

"It is. Well, you know what I'm talking about, right? You've composed quite a lot of wonderful songs as well. The rejections and the difficulty of it all is worth it in the end. Isn't it? Because then it leads to an improved song." Taehyung nods. "Besides, now I'm calm, you're so warm."

Taehyung laughs nervously. His face is definitely red now, he's glad Namjoon can only see the back of his neck.

"I'm very comfy too."

"Do you think you can tell me what's wrong now?" Tae realises Namjoon is being cautious, he really doesn't want to make him feel forced to talk about his feelings. His soft voice brings Tae so much comfort. "I think so."

"Take your time."

Taehyung breathes deeply. It's time. Before saying anything, he closes his eyes and imagines Namjoon's beautiful smile, a smile that sometimes is difficult to look at, for Taehyung wishes it would never fade away.

"I missed you. Well, I miss you." Silence. Oh God, now he wishes he could see Joon's face, has he scared him off? "There, I said it."

But Joon only manages to say, "Taehyung, I- I don't know what to say."

And he's not lying, he really is at a loss of words. It frustrates him, words have always been Namjoon's forte, but now a pain in his chest prevents him from processing what Taehyung just told him. 'He misses me?' He doesn't know what to feel about it.

"It's okay, I just wanted to tell you." says Tae, and without any warning, his eyes start watering again. "Because it's true. I know we still see each other, and a lot. But I actually really liked living with you." Namjoon doesn't want to interrupt him, not only because he wouldn't know what to say, but because he wants Taehyung to tell him everything, now that he's letting it all out. Bottling up feelings is not pretty. "You are very special to me, hyung. I didn't know that before, and then I wasn't sure about what I was feeling."

There is silence. Again. But it's not awkward, not this time - in fact, it feels necessary. Namjoon is giving himself some time and even though Taehyung is dying inside, he notices Namjoon's arms are still holding him, keeping him safe and sound, which makes him feel at ease.

"And now you are?"

"I am." Taehyung hasn't been more sure of anything in his life. What's more, he hasn't overthought about anything more than about what he feels about his hyung.

"Turn around." says Namjoon with a soft voice.

"What?" Taehyung gets cold feet. "No. Don't want you to see me like this."

"Oh come on, Tae. We've seen each other cry too many times."

Tae doubts for several seconds but he deeply trusts Joon, so he faces him. Still, he tries to hide his crying face with his hand. Namjoon gently grabs his wrist.

"Hey, it's okay. Tae, look at me."

"No, I can't," Taehyung refuses, his chin tucked to his chest.

"Tae, I want you to look at me in the eyes when I tell you this." Namjoon's voice is steady.

'Oh no', the younger thinks, 'I screwed up.' He now knows he should have stayed silent. Taehyung shakes his head.

Namjoon holds Taehyung's head high with his hands on his cheeks, and removes some tears with his thumbs. A shiver runs through Taehyung's body, those beautiful brown eyes looking right at him.

"You can count on me." says Namjoon finally. Taehyung's heart skips a beat. "What is wrong?"

'What?' Taehyung is confused. 'Is he kidding? Does he want me to say it again so he can laugh right at my face?' That's what he thinks at first, his anxiety getting the worst of him. But no, Namjoon is not like that.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something else going on, right?"

That hits him hard.

Taehyung's scared, his hair standing on the back of his neck. He's scared because Namjoon can see right through him. Yes, there is something else that keeps him up at night. He'd wanted to ignore it, bury it until it disappeared, until he forgot it had even existed. But Namjoon knows him too well.

"I'm fine." But the leader has to catch another tear that falls on his right cheek, he's weeping now. Namjoon's expression is very serious and he looks worried. Taehyung hates it, that's his fault.

"Please, let me help you. All I want is for you to be alright."

Taehyung refuses to tell him, he can't tell him. "But I am alright," he insists.

"Are you?"

Taehyung's chest starts burning. He tries to stop the tears so that he can look past the window, with the wish of distracting himself with the sight of the snow, the white trees and the Christmas decorations. But somehow Namjoon's words have affected him more than he thought they would, and he finally realises his problem is too big, too heavy for him to endure on his own. Instead of stopping the tears, he starts sobbing.

"No, I'm not. Hyung, I'm not okay," says Taehyung between sobs. "I have all these... these awful thoughts. I can't make them stop. I can't seem to enjoy music anymore. I feel horrible Namjoon, but at the same time I think I'm empty - yes, empty," he clutches his chest. "like there's a void in my chest." He's crying so hard he's basically babbling, the older has to make an effort in order to understand him. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?"

Suddenly, he starts breathing fast, incredibly fast, until he can't breath at all. He's having an anxiety attack.

Namjoon is frozen, he didn't expect this to escalate so quickly and for a moment he doesn't know what to do.

"Tae, oh my God, breath. Taehyungie, please."

But he can't, it's as if there's no air to breathe in. Namjoon sits up straight and helps Taehyung do the same. Then he hugs him, Taehyung's arms lying dead on his sides for he doesn't have strength. "I'm here with you, Tae." He strokes his broad back. "Breathe with me, c'mon." He puts his hands under Taehyung's shirt, feeling the contrast of temperature between his and Taehyung's skin. "Oh God, you're burning. Come on, breathe in."

It takes a lot of effort, but after a few seconds and thanks to Namjoon's words, he can finally take a breath of air.

"Good, good. Breathe out." And they breathe at the same time, Namjoon's hands on Taehyung's back, Taehyung's chin on Namjoon's shoulder, tears falling on his sweater. "Breathe in, breathe out," he keeps saying.

After a while, Tae is feeling much better, and he finally hugs him back. "Breathe in, breathe out."

***

Taehyung wakes up. His head is killing him and he's drenched in sweat. At first, it's all confusion, he's alone in bed, but it's not his. He scans the room, now full of curiosity and -he can't deny it- fear. There is nothing that can serve as a clue until he makes out something next to the wooden chair: a bonsai.

That's when he remembers. Namjoon's puzzlement, his soft voice, his warmth against his back. But above all, Taehyung's anxiety attack. He is, once more, overtaken by panic. 'Oh my God, Namjoon must've freaked out.' He must think he's crazy. What if he told the other members that he doesn't enjoy music anymore? Or worse, what if he told Bang PD-nim?'

He sits up, not sure about what happened after he had the attack. Maybe he fell asleep? Namjoon was hugging him... He looks at his left, where the older was sitting last night, and he sees it.

A folded paper.

Masterlist

[ceo-of-choco-bibi]

HCLW 107 SPOILERS

I've actually been so upset over the past few days because of the new chapters... nothing to worry about though it's not too serious.

I am making content, in terms of fics I got one more oneshot to add to my current chocotemp collection, a HnK au, and a new series of oneshots, more precisely about how I feel GRG would respond to the current event in the real world. In terms of art I have a few sketch graphs and one piece planned, but it might take a while to churn out.

(Check out my ao3 for my fics! https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811194)

For now I just really want to talk about them because they make me so sad and happy at the same time. Enjoy my rambling.

Giga 13th squad! They're all so cool, Giga's squad are really just Squad 1 Legendary characters team, the other fillers and Squad 13th. I immediately fall for any teleportation-related character, so Veganic is like (chef's kiss)! He is adorable I want to pick him up and put him in my fancy coat pocket.

MASTER SWORDSMAN ALWAYS GETS THE COOLEST PANELS! AS HE SHOULD! HE SLAYS ALL THE TIME UGH I

I hate the word goated but he really is he's the coolest and I hope he knows it! I feel embarrassed for talking to a fictional character but I wish he knows how much I love and cherish him

"There are times in life when you lose. If you're bound to lose, then just do the best you can! Then there will be a next time." I'm so devastated. How could you leave like this. How could you leave so happy when I'm dying over here.

"Give it to Choco Bibi and tell him it's my gift to congratulate him for becoming the second guild master of Grass Roots."

"How about we fight with our swords? It's been a while!"

"There should be a home for him to return to after he's done wandering. I'm going to start a new guild."

You don't understand. I don't have words for how painful this is. Just revel in the pain with me.

And here comes the backstory fluff (aka a sweetener to make the angst more bitter)

"How about we dance to draw attention?" "I think that'll make things worse." HELP ME

I CAN'T BELIEVE BIBI CANONICALLY HAS PRETTY BOY PRIVILEGE!!!! AS HE SHOULD???????

I'm actually never going to shut up about how Bibi never blushes in the presence of women. Like never. MSM and Drip Soup are always blushing when there's pretty women around but really Bibi has never shown attraction. When Pooh Upooh was naked? No. When Coco first entered the guild? No. Here, where a girl literally says she wants to go on a date with him? NO. This is actually my queer agenda, me and Sehun Kim had a talk and we agreed on making Bibi queer coded.

I would have never guessed that Drip Soup and Tempest were both affiliated with Giga for a short while? Guess I manifested my Giga!GRG but in a different way

I've never let go of the headcanon that Bibi is fucking terrible with feelings and is always angry, this just solidifies it more (really, every interaction Bibi has is just solidifying the theory that he's emotionally constipated)

I've also got the feeling that Bibi's super prideful in the sense that he would rather not express weakness (cry, express pain) in front of others (seen when he gets beaten by NM!Bibi the first time on) and that he channels everything into spite and anger instead. I kind of want to see this when he realises MSM is gone later on also. I want to see him get irrationally mad and blame someone (HCLW) before realising (or realising but still feeling lost and like he has to target someone) MSM wouldn't have wanted this. Armes wouldn't have wanted this. His friends are the only ones left.

It really comforts me to see that Master Swordsman is happy with his life right now. I'm kind of stuck between "oh he's happy because he's well off from the game, his work doesn't count" and "anything that you're happy with in life is worth it. You don't need an office job to be happy" though, but for real. I've never wanted a regular office job and I'd rather just do something simple and get by since nothing matters in the long run when I die. But at the same time, I feel like I can only say this because of how privileged I am to be me. It's hard being alive, sometimes. I'll pull through.

Tempest appearance! This time it solidifies my idea that Tempest finds his friends to be more important than himself, at least at this point of time. I expand a lot more in my new fic and I've written a bunch there already, so I'll save it for then (haha, shameless plug)

It's so bloody funny that they're all from the same school and that they're meeting up for a battle. What are you, YouTubers with beef?

TEMPEST BEING A GOODY TWO SHOES NERD? HIS HAIR IS KIND OF FLUFFY? (I die.) TEMPEST AND BIBI IRL INTERACTION? THEY KNOW EACH OTHER IRL BEFOREHAND? (I die again.) BIBI EATING POPCORN? (I die once more.)

Anyways Bibi with a sugar addiction I really do not need to elaborate on this.

They are such LOSERS who does irl fights I swear to god yall EMBARRASSING /lh

I MANIFESTED HEAVY ALCOHOL TOLERANCE BIBI YOU HAVE ME TO THANK FOR THIS!!!!!!! I REALLY DID!!!!!!!! (My linked headcanon was that Bibi's the group protector when they're out drinking. It's sort of true.)

I can't do this. This is a lot for my heart. To whoever looks at this, why? But also thank you for being here it means a lot to me.

MSM RICH

Bibi gets couch rights as he should! Also Bibi and Tempest airpod users while MSM and Soup earphone users?

Glasses and WFL came from nowhere but alright I still love them

The gifts thing. The gifts thing. I am so upset it's unbelievable.

The hat... the hat was given to Bibi by MSM... I want to see him have a breakdown now. I want to see him wear the hat forever on after this arc because it's something solid he has left. He's an art major irl, I want to see him recreate the hat or make art related to MSM.

"You might be grumpy on the outside, but I know you always think dear of me. I'm glad you don't know what I'm doing right now. If you did, you would've stopped me by any means."

It hurts so much.

"Life doesn't always go your way. And sometimes... you just want to run away from the life that turned out so differently. Some people say, the place you run off to is no paradise. They may be right, but those who ran away can still comfort each other there."

GRG IS LITERALLY FOUND FAMILY! THEY ARE LITERALLY-

I cannot do this anymore it's horrible my heart is shattering into a million pieces

"How did we end up like this? You went through enough to deserve a little happiness. Hardcore. Go back to your friends!"

He does deserve it. You deserve it. I hate this. Thank you. Sorry.

And Bibi still doesn't know. He'll be the last to know. "Did he go knowing I loved him? What were his last words? How do I go on? What do I do from now?"

I do want to see them reunite and remember. I do want to see them waddle in their hurt and pain, to heal together, to move on as a guild knowing this is what MSM would have wanted. It's so fascinating seeing someone grow and oh how much have the Grass Roots grown in the past 3 years. They've been close to my heart since forever and I really love them so much.

Final conclusion: I hope you've hurt as much as I do. I hope reading this has shown you something from my perspective that has made you hurt a little more. Talk to me and be my friend so we can hurt together.

On a more self note: Like I said, I'm writing stuff. I'm drawing stuff. It sucks to think sometimes that so few people will see it, but I know that I love what I'm doing. I may be prideful and want more people to love me, but I think I'm not selfish for wanting so. Reading this drains me. Reading this fills me with inspiration and joy and happiness and pain and anger and sadness.

I hope you don't find it just plain cringe that my emotions work like this. I hope that you reading this find comfort in knowing someone feels this way too. Thank you.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My twin brother is Spiderman!?; Peter Parker x twin sis reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this is completely different from the last twin sister fic that I done but this one also needed to be posted up. Now in this one you are just a normal person, no special powers this time around. BUT like the other one there is SUGGESTIVE THEMES HERE, MUGGING, ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT SO IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DON’T PUSH YOURSELF TO READ THIS!!!! OR IF YOU DO READ. AT. YOUR. OWN. RISK! Other than that, I hope you all enjoy this fic. My last Peter fic is coming up in just a moment.

Taglist:

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@ixchel-9275​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

__________________________________________________________

I was currently in art class working on my project when the bell soon rang and my teacher told us to wrap up our projects and get on out of here. I sealed my sculpture in plastic wrap and took off my gloves. I packed up my supplies and walked with some of my friends as we all said goodbye to our Professor.

"So will I see you at the gala tomorrow (y/n)?" asked my friend Judy.

"Unfortunately no, lately my aunt's been going crazy due to the fact that Peter's been sneaking out at late hours of the night".

"Ahh I can understand that, little brothers can be such pains, my brother Doug is the same way". She stated over dramatically.

"Tell me about it, you know I have been dying to go to that Van Gough show that's at the MET tomorrow, but all because of Peter, Aunt May won't let me go because she's worried that I'm sneaking around like Peter".

"I'm sorry (y/n), I really wish I could help you out".

"Yeah I know, well see you Monday".

"Ciao (y/n)". She then left with hopped into our other friend Frank's car and inside I noticed Alicia, Jamie, George and Jerry and Frank drove them off. I then walked up to my motorbike and got on and revved it up before speeding out of the parking lot.

Once I got home, I was immediately bombarded by Aunt May asking me if I had seen Peter at all while I was coming home. I told her that I hadn't seen him at all and that's when she went in full on panic mode and started calling five police stations begging for their help but I tried to assure her that he's probably with Ned or something and just forgot to call (as usual lately).

2 and a half hours later, as I was walking by Peter's room I heard movement going around in his room. I leaned up against the door and also heard shuffling so I immediately opened the door and there I saw my younger twin standing like a deer in headlights and boy was I livid at this moment.

"Oh hey (y/n) what's up sis?"

"What's up? What's up!? Peter you have got some serious balls to say that to me right now. Do you have any idea how worried May was about you? She barely listened to me and she's been out in the streets for a half hour now looking for you!"

"I'm—I'm sorry (y/n) I......"

"Oh sorry don't even cut it Pete". I sneered. I gripped my younger twin by the shoulder and led him out of his room and we both sat down on the living room couch while I facetimed May and showed her who was here and she immediately said she'd be over.

Now thanks to Peter the Sneaker, the two of us were officially under May arrest which meant that neither of us could leave the apartment for the entire weekend. If we wanted to go out for groceries or if we needed research at the library, then she was to be our escort and she said she would actually walk in with us like we were children to make sure we were doing on what we said we would be 'doing'.

A week later, May finally let go of our punishment and I was still pretty pissed at Peter for making me miss the Van Gough exhibit. So to punish him, I didn't once talk to him for anything and gave him the silent treatment plus the cold shoulder.

Currently I had finished my long awaited project for my art class and it was starting to get pretty dark out. I walked out of the art building and headed to the parking lot to start up by bike when suddenly I felt something push against the back of my head and a voice said.

"Give me the bike and I won't shoot you". I was frozen in fear. I slowly raised my hands up and said.

"Please you—you don't have to do this".

"Step away from the bike and hand over the keys or I will blow your brains out!" the man demanded. Before I could even do as he said, I was taken in a choke hold and forced away from my bike and tossed down onto the ground and that's when I heard the gun cock telling me it was getting ready to fire.

I tensed up and curled up into a ball begging with the guy to not kill me when the gun didn't go off.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to steal from girls?" another voice said. We both looked to left and there standing right underneath the street lamp of the parking lot was the famed superhero, Spiderman. I was then grabbed by the mugger and I felt a sharp blade at my neck, the cold steel ready to slice my neck open and I whimpered in fear as tears began rolling down my face.

"Well, well if it ain't the eight-legged freak spiderboy" I whimpered as the blade came closer to my skin almost nicking it.

"Spiderman actually, now I'll give you five seconds to let the girl go and you can walk away".

"Sorry shorty can't do that. And as a matter a fact, I think I may just take this girl home with me, she seems like she knows how to have a good time" the perverted mugger said as he leaned closer to my face and actually sniffed my hair which made me squirm uncomfortably but he kept the knife right at my neck and almost sliced it opened if I failed to submit to him.

"Okay first of all you're a sick pedophile, and two nobody call's me shorty!" Spiderman then flung his webs at the mugger's face which blinded him. He stepped away and as soon as I was free, I ran as far away from him as I could before Spiderman caught me in his arms and he asked me, "You okay?" shakenly I nodded and he said, "Good, come with me".

He then picked me up and took me towards another street lamp and told me not to move and just wait for him there. I agreed to his terms and I saw him race back towards the mugger and he leapt up in the air and fired some more of his webbings but some of them I've gotta say I've never seen before.

Like one web shooting he did, actually exploded beneath the mugger's feet, another one was like a taser gun which sent him down to his knees, and after getting a few good punches and kicks in, his last webbing exploded at him and trapped him in a straight-jacket like manner against the lamppost he had once stood under.

Once the fight was done, Spiderman came up to me and took me in his arms and said.

"Hold on tight". I wrapped my arms around him and he shot a web sling up and soon we went flying through the city. As we swung from building to building, he made sure to keep one protective arm around me and I held onto him by the neck. We soon came to my Aunt's apartment and he landed us safely on the rooftop and he asked me.

"There we go, safe and sound and home again, you sure you're okay?" I nearly collapsed to the ground with my adrenaline now deflated like a balloon and if it hadn't been for Spiderman, I would've collapsed to the floor. "Whoa, whoa, whoa easy, easy (y/n)". At saying my name, my head shot up as I looked at him.

"How do you know my name?"

"Wha? Ahh shit I—I mean uhh....." he sighed heavily and continued, "I guess the cat's out of the bag". He then removed his mask and there kneeling beside me was my younger twin Peter.

"P-Peter?!" I choked out.

"Yeah, guess you finally know the big secret".

"So.....all this time—those videos on YouTube of Spiderman that-that-that was you?"

"Yeah".

"How?" He then went on to explain about how nine months ago when his class went on that fieldtrip to Oscorp Industry, he got bit by a radioactive spider and he soon began developing these powers and that ever since then especially after Uncle Ben died, he vowed to try and keep the city safe. He also explained that he's an Avenger *that part I don't believe* and that all those trips on the STARK internship, were actually missions or meeting with the Tony "Ironman" Stark himself. After his story I began to try and process everything that he's told me.

"Now are you sure you're okay? I can take you to the hospital if you need—"

"No, no I'm fine Pete, really. I'm—sorry for the way I've been treating you these past few days, I thought that—with all that I've done to you....."

"Hey, you're my sister (y/n). You're more than that, you're my twin sister, my best friend. No matter what I'm always gonna be there for you, even when you get mad at me, I'll always be there like a spider on the wall". We both laughed at his pun and then I said to him.

"Thank you Peter, if you hadn't saved me back there I—I don't even want to think about what they guy would've done to me".

"You're welcome, like I said, I'll always be there for you, whether you want me to be or not". I smiled at him and embraced my younger twin and he hugged me back and the two of us sat there for a bit before heading inside.

Brothers, especially your youngest twin, they can be a pain in the butt at times but sometimes for good reasons too. While it is said to be written that the older sibling must always be there for their younger siblings, I think that it's both siblings responsibility to watch out of the other. No matter whether you're the oldest or youngest, siblings always need to watch out for each other, and even when you don't want them to, they'll always be there for you.

Sometimes in more ways than one, and I know I've got the best little twin of all. I mean what other person can say my little brother is Spiderman?! But I also know he's more to me than that, he's my twin brother Peter Parker.

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

The Circle Of Life

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying--when you realised it a long time ago. Harry's journey as he deals with Cancer. Diary fic. Haphne. IWSC Season 1 Final entry. Hogwarts JP!

Written for the International Wizarding Schools Championship Season 1

Round: Finals!!!

Theme: Dittany which means healing, mentally, emotionally and physically and also injury (as you can't be healed if you're not injured). The theme is shown here as Harry trying his best to recover from cancer.

Year: Year 7

School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. JP from Hogwarts!

Prompts: Potions (object) [additional]

Emerald (colour) [additional]

St. Mungo's (setting) [main]

Special Rule and Link: The special rule here is used by Showing 'birth' both Harry's own birthday, and his grandchild's birth. As for the link, In this fic the link is again Harry's birthday, as we're showing his feelings on his birthdays through different stages of his life, this being the last one. Mentions of infertility.

Word Count: 2190

***

14th January 2060

8:35 p.m.

Diary,

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. It's funny, really. We know we're all dying but rarely does it ever truly sink in. But in my case, I've had the pleasure of having realised this way back at the age of seventeen. I hadn't thought I'd get out of the Forbidden Forest alive again, especially if I were meant to die in the end, and so I had submitted to my sentence. I was as surprised as anyone at my continued living, I assure you, and with the amount of downright stupid things I've done in my lifetime—fighting Voldemort some five different times, riding thestrals, wandering into acromantula nests, and then contemplating becoming an auror before Daphne talked me out of it—I've already outlived my expectations, so I don't think it bothers me too much that death has come to claim me now.

Daphne and Hermione would both glare at me for saying that probably, and Sothis, Jacob, and Lily would frown. Acquiring blood cancer does not necessarily mean death, especially since it's a muggle disease, but at the age of 80, I have my doubts. Wizards might not be as affected by muggle ailments, but this is cancer. It's been nearly ten days since I've written to you, as you might have noticed, and that was because of the numerous tests they conducted and reconducted at St. Mungo's. I've had to quit teaching at Hogwarts because of this accursed illness. Those of my family who haven't had much exposure to the muggle world didn't realise just how serious cancer was, and they were rather unconcerned—it's a muggle disease, wizards always recover from muggle diseases—but Hermione knew exactly what it was, and how serious, and she passed this information to both Ron and Daphne—even when I begged her not to—who told others. So now, everyone is extra polite around me, and extra careful. I hate how everyone looks at me like I might shatter at any moment. Even Malfoy's started acting differently again, and it's just so frustrating!

I just want everyone to get back to normal.

Harry James Potter

***

8th February 2060

8:15 p.m.

Diary,

My health has gotten worse instead of better. Last week, I began coughing violently and realised that I was coughing blood. My body hurt. I also had a temperature and felt dizzy. Daphy took me to St. Mungo's as soon as she saw my pitiful state. I was kept there for a whole day while the healers ran tests and took samples. While the wizarding world doesn't use injections, their methods of extracting blood hurt just as much. The healers only let Daphy see me during around dinnertime after they thought me stable enough. Daphy was by my side the entire night after that, holding my hand, helping me eat, and then finally settling me down for the night. I hadn't seen her that tired in a long time, diary, and it was ... unsettling. I wonder if I'm being too selfish in not really caring if this cursed disease takes me down. Daphne would be shattered.

Hermione and Ron were there at the hospital before I woke up the next day, considerably late and still feeling pretty shitty. The two of them and Daphne were talking to a healer, and none of them had realised I was awake. I could only catch a few phrases of their conversation—flu, immune system, careful—but the grim expressions on their faces told me that whatever it was, it wasn't good. The healers sent me home with instructions to take some fifty odd potions every eight hours and to exercise regularly, but not so much that I overexert myself.

I was too tired the next three days to pick up a pen to write, let alone go for a walk. But yesterday, after Daphy and I got back from the walk she had coaxed me into going for, we came home to a pleasant surprise in the form of Lily and Sebastian. Lily has always been big on surprises, but the one she gave us yesterday was the best surprise I have gotten in a long time. They're expecting their first child in July! After a number of failed tries, Lily and Sebastian had both given up on trying to have children, but that right there was proof that miracles do happen. Daphne was so happy, she had tears in her eyes. So did I. For a moment there, I think all of us present in the room were a little misty-eyed. It took a little effort to digest that bit of news, happy as it was because our sweet little witch had grown so old so fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that I had first held her in my arms? She was finally going to be a mother now! I am happy as can be, of course, but I wonder if I'll be able to live long enough to see my grandchild in this life.

I really hope I do.

Harry James Potter

***

18th March 2060

8:00 p.m.

Diary,

I don't think I'd be able to stand a single more piteous look directed toward me, even if my situation is miserable. I feel tired all the time now, even though I've been taking all my potions on time and have done all the exercises that the healers had told me to do. My body still hurts sometimes, and I feel utterly useless. The healers in St. Mungo's still take samples of my blood to see if my condition is getting any better.

They don't say so to my face, but I'm only getting worse. It is clear by the looks they direct towards me, in how Ron and Hermione both always say goodbye to me at the end of the day as if it were their last goodbye, in how Daphne strokes my cheek at night when we're both in bed and tells me to stay strong for her. I wish they'd just tell me, so I don't have to go through everything pretending to be blissfully unaware.

Sothis and Jacob came to see me today. I hadn't seen them since my birthday last year. Sothis lives in America now with his family and practices as a curse breaker while Jacob has been wandering around the world with Lorcan Lovegood. They were upset when they'd been told of my cancer, of course, but today I truly saw how much my sickness really affected my family. If I had been my old self, I would not have wanted them to see me like this, but times have changed. At least I'm not in St. Mungo's because I wasn't able to fight a common cold.

I really do want to get better.

Harry James Potter

***

21st May 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

Things have begun to look up for me now, and I feel I've gotten a little better for the past few weeks. I don't feel as tired anymore, and Daphy does not have to force me to get out of the house. Daphy could not be happier about this. I've begun working on a book to keep me occupied. This was Hermione's idea—to write a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts from my experience as a professor and what I learnt when I was still studying for it. That I have fought the supreme leader of the dark is an added bonus. I think the one single perk of being sick is that the children come to see me more often. The others came around too, recently—the Weasleys, Neville, Luna. It felt nice to see them all after so long, but it felt a little disconcerting that this might be the last time we saw each other. I suppose that was the reason they made the visit in the first place, to see me again while they still could.

In other news, I am in the news again. The Daily Prophet found out about my illness somehow, and it was all anyone talked about for the last week. Daphy and Hermione both blew up over the staff of St. Mungo's because no one else would ever leak any information to the Prophet of all people. Astoria, who works there, is having the board conduct an entire investigation to find the gossip.

Lily had her first contraction while she was here with us. It was a false alarm, the baby is due in the second week of August, but it felt strange and surreal. Everyone was excited though, Lily especially, even if she complained non-stop about her backache. Things are looking up, finally, and everyone, the healers included, think that I'm going to get better quite soon.

I hope I do.

Harry James Potter

5th July 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

While my health had been stable enough for the past two months and was inching towards recovery, it has now gotten worse again. The healers think that I've been exposed to an infection which my body is not able to fight off. The incessant pain, the omnipresent tiredness have both returned with assorted bottles of potions that taste like sewer water.

I was kept at St. Mungo's for a week, and the healers were still reluctant to let me go home because apparently, my immune system has become so compromised that even the mildest of bacteria or virus could be the cause of my death. It wasn't until Hermione had reasoned with them that I was more likely to be exposed to pathogens—whatever those were—in a hospital than back home that they let me go. I've been told in no uncertain terms to take all my potions on time and to get plenty of rest. The worst part is that I am to avoid the outdoors completely, so no more walks or anything. Daphne looked defeated yet determined.

When they thought I wasn't listening, they also told Daphne and Hermione to keep the visitors to a minimum, so people coming to see me is also out of the question now, although Lily did come here the other day, so I guess the kids are allowed.

I had thought I was getting better, but now ... they don't say it to my face, but their pitiful expressions make it clear that my days now are numbered. I hope I get to see my youngest grandchild before I die, though. They aren't here yet, but I love them already.

Harry James Potter

***

31st July 2060

8:45 p.m.

Diary,

It's my birthday today, but so much has changed since last year. I was teaching at Hogwarts happily. People weren't scared of sneezing around me. I was cancer free. But most importantly, I didn't have a new grandson who looked exactly like me. His eyes are the same emerald green as mine, and he has a small tuft of jet-black hair, although I really hope he has better luck with it than I have had.

From what Daphy tells me, Lily had been visiting when her water broke. I don't know the exact details of what happened since I had been in St. Mungo's since the past week, but everyone panicked except Daphne, who had gone home for a while to shower and eat after leaving me in Hermione's care. She calmly called for a mediwitch from St. Mungo's and made preparations to transport Lily to the hospital for the delivery.

The baby was two weeks early, but still very healthy. He had curious green eyes, and the memory of how he looked at me with interest when I first held him is still fresh in my mind. I did finally get to meet my grandchild—Lily's first child—and I couldn't possibly be happier. If I were to die now, after I've seen my grandchild, I'd die happy. My princess had finally started a family of her own, and the baby looks just like me. He's a tiny and beautiful baby, and I am so proud. Lily and Sebastian are both beaming. They named him after me and Sebastian's father—Harry Alex Grahams.

I love him.

Harry James Potter

***

Daphne closed the diary shut on the morning of August the 2nd with tears rolling down her eyes. She put it beside her on the padded carpet she was sitting on and drew her knees closer to her. Harry had to go, leave, just as Lily's first child was born, just as he had turned 81. It was painfully sad. Lily had cried through the last night, and it had taken Daphne all she had in her to not join her in it and to comfort her instead. She took in a deep breath. Harry was right, though. The child was beautiful and looked painfully like him. At least she knew that he had died painlessly in his sleep. Happy. Content. His suffering had ended, and he had had the joy of holding his grandson in his arms. He had been happy. That was all that mattered.

[janiedean]

gwenspiration self-recs

I was tagged by @jaimebrienneonline​ for this thank you!

sooo, the challenge was:

Taking the idea from the amazing Gwendoline Christie, we should be promoting ourselves and not acting like our creative endeavors are worthless. In that vein, I challenge everyone to blog their favorite of their own works, art, fic, meta, manip, doll story, whatever it may be.

aaand okay so I’m usually really bad at self-reccing so I’ll just go ahead and do a top five fics and a few meta links - this is not necessarily my most read stuff or whatever but if I have to choose in between my own children I will ;) also sticking to asoiaf/jb-centric stuff or it turns into a problem lmao [also I’m not putting some flowers bloom dead on this because I don’t wanna rec stuff I haven’t finished]

in the darkness on the edge of town: (jb, hooker au, explicit content) okay I don’t even know how to put this without sounding ridiculous but I honestly think it’s some of the best writing I put out period and I ended up putting an amount of blood sweat and tears I hadn’t anticipated into it but I loved doing it overall (because I also went and put in it everything I like writing about ngl and yes I have a thing for hooker au and I apparently succeeded in making it feel like a springsteen song so I’m proud of myself thank you) and I’m really happy with how it turned out. also, I gave myself confirmation that if springsteen’s involved my productivity arises.

I'm not a pretty girl, that's not what I do: (jb, brienne-centric with focus on her issues with her looks and femininity) long story short, I didn’t say it in the a/n when I posted this for the spitefic series because I wanted to check the reactions to it but now that it’s been months I can say it: this is the most personal thing I’ve ever put to fic in my entire life including specifically recycling my own childhood experiences into brienne’s and tackling directly 80% of the issues me and her have in common. and I think it came out pretty damn good and I also was flattered with the response I got to it because a lot of people commented about how relatable those issues were and just, this damned fic means a lot to me so have it ;)

conventions and inconveniences of the stage series (theon/robb, jaime/brienne, jonc/brynden tully for now, opera singers au series): okay this is a series so I’m cheating BUT I’m just really attached to all of the fics in it because a) I love opera and I was delighted that people actually read them and liked it regardless of the obscure subjects, b) they gave me the chance to branch out a lot, c) for now I had fics for two ships I dearly love (throbb and jb) and that have meant a lot to me in this fandom AND then the crackship I cultivated with a lot of love and care to which I gave one of my favorite operas in existence and I loved writing each single one of these fics and I think I’ve done a pretty good job with them and sorry but I picked the perfect operas for all of them and I’m dying on that hill. don carlo is 100% the throbb opera and fidelio is 10000% the jb opera you won’t take that from me. ;)

all knights are gallant and all maids are beautiful (jb, side-jc, genderbend): admittedly I wrote this thing out of spite because I hate that people refuse to see that jc is, in fact, a darned abusive dynamic but they wouldn’t say that if the genders were reversed so I went and genderbent all three of them just to prove the damned point of it and other than being very satisfied at how it turned out it was a fairly cathartic exercise to write it because that issue is really sitting badly on my stomach and has been for ages. so yeah I’ll put this one on the list also because ngl I liked writing male!brienne way more than I thought I would and overall I did have a pretty interesting time figuring out how to keep them IC while switching genders and it was in general a very good writing exercise for a lot of things and I think it came out pretty well.

and give all the love that you have in your soul (jb, jonc/omc, jonc/rhaegar, time travel): I thought about reccing something less widely read for the last spot but fuck it I’m going to put this one fic for a lot of reasons as in: a) I actually brewed on it for two years before writing it is2g it was a labor of love, b) I’m extremely proud of myself for having written time travel without losing my shit over the technicalities (I hate writing time travel) and the planning and the likes and I also think it didn’t have plot holes so score for me, c) this is where I admit that I 100% purposefully put jon connington as co-protagonist in here because I love him and I don’t think he gets enough fandom exposure and while I write him more than about anyone else I think until this fic I hadn’t managed to find a large audience for fic where he was a lead, so yes I totally did it because I knew a fic with a jb main pairing would mean more exposure and I was delighted to see that at the end of it people cared about his half of the storyline as much as they cared about the jb half of it. also I think brienne and jonc would be absolutely good potential friends if they met so I really was excited to explore that dynamic and yeah tldr this damned thing was a bitch to write but I loved doing it and I loved the feedback it had so that’s going to be this one.

there, that’s the fic. as far as the meta goes, a lot more quickly (of the meta I have on ao3 because I’m still on dash only) :

Brienne of Tarth and her importance as a literary character & Brienne and Jaime’s relationship: a textual analysis of their journey: I put together these two darned novels of analysis in a single piece that I gave to gwendoline christie at a con once because I felt like I should go there with something that would make clear how much brienne means to me as a character and then I threw in the jb stuff as well because I could. the first piece isn’t as in-depth but again as brienne is the only character I related to as much as I do for those reasons I really felt strongly about that meta subject. the second piece is basically me going through 90% of the relevant moments of jb history in the books and analyzing the shit out of it and not to brag but I like to think it was pretty good text analysis so here you go.

Why a Jaime/Brienne Endgame in the Books Makes More Sense Than One Might Think, Based on Previous Works of GRRM's: one of the things that irks me more about nihilistic/fatalistic readings of these two/of asoiaf is that most people who write them and dismiss jb as not important or not important enough to have overall plot relevance have not actually read grrm’s other books. since I happen to have read most of them and to have seen that he has patterns that are not nihilistic at all, I took the liberty to rant about it.

An Analysis of Jaime's Dream in ASOS: this was when I dissected jaime’s asos dream line by line and while I don’t think it’s particularly groundbreaking information it’s pretty much encompassing 90% of the arguments I use while theorizing about these two/jaime’s issues specifically and I think I worded it well enough, so here we go, that’s the third.

... wow, selling yourself is hard. thanks jbo for the tag!!

aaand as I should tag other people, idk who’s done it already buut I’m gonna tag also not-jb peeps and go for @lordhellebore, @trulilyy @randomingoftherandomness and @lodessa if they want to :)

[ckret2]

anonymous asked: Oh, I've been craving some Ghidorah/Rodan-centric fics since leaving movie theatre!. I'm sorry I don't really have any solid idea, but I would love to read literally anything with them from you

I wrote a fic, put it in the answer to this ask, hit “post,” and the ask posted but all the text vanished. I edited the post, put the text back in, hit “save”, and all the text vanished again. So I guess I’m deleting the original post, taking a screenshot of the ask, and making a post this way. :/

I swear I’ve seen dozens of cracky posts about Ghidorah/Rodan being a thing but only ONE fic with them. Clearly, this needs to be fixed. And I got another anon request for Ghidorah/Rodan (or at least, one-sided Ghidorah/Rodan... or, 1/3-sided Ghidorah/Rodan) so you’ll probably be getting more from me soon. This fic is unedited because I literally just finished it.

As I was writing this fic I had an emotional crisis upon looking up Rodan’s character art and realizing he’s not actually red, he’s just lit by red lights in the promo posters.

Sept 4 edit: Now, at last, the fic is proofed!

I’m still accepting Ghidorah-centric fic prompts! This is no longer true. If you wanna see a prompt written tho, buy me a ko-fi. Three bucks a fic is a great deal.

###

How Cute

###

The red sprites of this world had always stood out to them in a way most of this alien world's other comparably-sized inhabitants had not—and this one, the only red sprite now awake, was no exception. He was the sole creature that wasn’t completely bizarre. His wings, his body, his legs, even his face, were all so near-to-normal, normal-adjacent.

His nearness to correctness, when they were so used to beasts that hardly resembled proper living creatures at all, only made his differences more pronounced, more uncomfortable—from the sharp tapering point of what should have been his snout to the strange way his wings seemed to curve without fingers. Even the way wind gushed beneath his wings, a burst of air that blew aside everything before him, seemed like a parody of the vortexes that they themselves stirred up, stretching from one horizon to the other.

So near-to-normal—but not quite. And the not quite made him seen even more alien than the creatures they had nothing in common with.

Even his war cry was hauntingly familiar—like an echo of cries they themselves might have made, long ago, in another alien atmosphere under another alien star. Before they had learned to sing.

As the red sprite burst through the storm, black with volcanic rock and edged red with dripping lava, cawing his war cry with hatred and defiance—like he thought he stood a chance against them!—they thought, condescendingly, how cute.

They wondered whether, with time, the red sprite could learn to sing like them too.

His talons and his beak were sharp. Sharp enough to dig between their scales, but not enough to rip through them—not enough to make them bleed. Their claws and teeth were sharper and stronger, and the red sprite cried in pain and dodged their attacks when they forced him to, but he never fled. He didn't try to escape. What spirit, this red sprite had. What fury, what determination, what wrath. Did his wrath burn him up from the inside, the way theirs did? Did he live to burn down worlds, too?

The rain sizzled on the smoking ends of his wings; his flame fluttered and flared. He grew darker the longer they fought, the glowing cracks in his wings losing their light. They knew that the red sprite nested in a volcano; could he not sustain his fire long without it? Even so, when they moved in for the kill—sank Second and Third's fangs into his wings him to pin them wide open, hovered First's face so close to his, their chest so near to his chest—he was still so warm.

So warm.

How many millennia had it been since they were warm? Not hot, not burning—but warm?

Gazing down at the red sprite's eyes, First were tempted to press their faces against him, to curl into the warmth together. Instead, he screamed forth their lightning, electrocuted the red sprite, and dropped him into the sea.

As he sank, with the churning water boiling around his dying flames—his bold resistance rendered futile—they thought, pityingly, how cute.

###

With nemesis re-dueled and dispatched, with wounds licked and Third repaired, with siren song sang and all the beasts of this world capable of hearing it now mindlessly dancing to their tune—they claimed the red sprite's nest as their own, claimed the red sprite's nest as their throne. They expected they could comfortably settle down while they waited for the world to burn down around them.

They did not expect to see the red sprite flying stiffly out of the ocean.

How? They had felt the air over the ocean change with that strange flash of light. The atmosphere itself had become alien to this world. It had killed all the nearby creatures, they were sure—they were nearly sure it had even killed their foul nemesis, the little king. It should have killed the red sprite as well, who was nowhere near as strong as the little king.

But it hadn't. How?

They were lightning; they breathed lightning when they sang, their scales flashed golden with electricity. The true "red sprite" for which they'd nicknamed this species was a distorted illusion of lightning, a red electric flash high in the sky above thunderstorms. They had named the red sprite's species after that phenomenon mockingly—he was an echo of themselves, a foreign phenomenon that superficially resembled them. Maybe the name was truer than they'd thought? Maybe the way that red sprites came from the same storms as lightning, he had come from the same source as them?

No. It was impossible. They didn't even remember what their home atmosphere smelled like, only barely remembered the color of their star; they remembered even the moon they'd been dragged to afterward far more clearly. Nothing else could have come to this world from there.

However, even considering the possibility shook them. They looked at the red sprite with new eyes as he landed before them.

And anyway, how had he survived the blast? When the greatest creature of this world could not and only they, not of this world, could?

They flexed their wings, readying themselves for another fight—they were, after all, sitting on the red sprite's nest. (It was so hot—they could feel it trying to melt their claws—but, they realized, although it felt hot, it didn't feel warm. Not like him.) However, as he drew near, he beat his wings to stop short of them. Stones and dust scattered along the sides of the volcano, but the wind didn't even stir in the caldera. He landed, spread his wings, and dipped his head low before them.

He wasn't here to fight. He was answering their siren song. Not as one being controlled by it. No, the command they'd given was to destroy, to mindlessly flatten the world in anger and fear—not to come bow to them. He was deferring to them not because he was compelled to, but because he was choosing to. He chose to follow them.

Why? Because they'd beaten him? Because they'd beaten the little king? Because—was it possible—he wanted to see them turn the world to ashes?

As the red sprite prostrated himself before their throne, head tilted sideways so he could look up at them—his eyes were the same bright gold as their scales—they thought, softly, how cute.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of Ghidorah-centric and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)