#definitely makes me want to push this reread ahead but if i keep interrupting rereads and watches i'll never finish nothing
Note
Hi love! I haven’t been online for a hot sec but the scream I SCRUMPT when I saw that Dogs: Bullets & Carnage was still available for the au prompts!!! I’m literally down for any headcanons and any AUs with the lovely characters because I don’t know anyone else that knows of it so I want to say pick your poison 😭😭 but if I must choose one for the event, maybe a coffee shop AU? The characters have been through too much I just need an AU where they get to experience soft cozy vibes instead of whatever’s going on in canon 🫶🏻
Thank you so much for your time and thoughtfulness in penning your work for us! Please feel free to pick any other available AU if it strikes your inspo more than this one. Tbh foaming at the mouth for any thoughts about our beloved stray dogs howling in the dark… 🤍
Okay, so I admit that this is no longer on my fandom list. It's been a while since I've revisiting the manga and there really wasn't much interest in it, so I did remove it. However, I love coffee shop/cafe au's, I do love this fandom, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this! Thank you so, so much for sending this in and, though they are late getting to you, I really hope you enjoy the headcanons!
In a very complete change of pace for me, I gotta say that I agree so hard with the asker for this one. This needed to be a soft, peaceful AU. Something very fluffy and very slice of life, and that's how I'd write it out as a story. There's no big over-arching plot, really, everything is very character-driven and there's no intrigue, no mystery, no real big angsty elements. Any angsty elements are there as backstory for some characters or are things happening in character's lives (because everyone has bad days and troubles, that's just reality) and they always find comfort and support among either the cafe's staff or the regular customers, as I do see everyone who frequents the café and those that work there really becoming a sort of surrogate family for each and every single one of these characters. The café is everyone's safe spot to land, even on the bad days, so the angst is very much mitigated and not used, since character and healing, growth, peace, bonds between people and found family would, again, really be the basis and focus of this story.
Now, I know Angelika really plays a large role overall in the manga but in this AU, her role is really that she was an adoptive mother to Heine, Giovanni, Lily, and now is an adoptive mother to Luki and Noki. She was, for all extents and purposes, a very abusive mother, physically and mentally, and Heine in particular blames her for the childhood death of his adoptive sister. Heine's had no contact with her for years and Giovanni's constant excuses and sticking up for her is the reason there's a large rift between the two men. Angelika really wants Heine back in her life, but she doesn't know where he relocated to or anything and she does try to use Giovanni to find out, which does become a major character plot point for Giovanni at one point. He's found Heine working at the café and because of other things that happen in the story, there's starting to be signs of a reconciliation between the two brothers, and in his first real step towards independence, Giovanni refuses to tell her where Heine is and pretends that he could never find him and starts to pull away from Angelika too, leaving her really largely written out of the story after that.
So, let's start with the café itself. It's not insanely popular to be honest. It's a small, slightly out of the way coffee-shop that serves small meals and baked treats but everyone who goes there tends to become a regular. Not only is the coffee actually the best around (the owner roasts the beans and creates the blends himself), and the food is superb, but there's just something slightly magical about the place. You walk in and automatically feel just…at home. Comfortable. Those who really have nowhere else to spend their days will find they can go in and spend the whole day there, even if all they order is a single coffee, without anyone getting upset, and that they'll always find a willing ear to talk to in either the staff themselves or the other patrons.
Above the café proper are four small studio apartments. Three of them are 'rented' to the cafe's full-time staff members. Honestly, the owner has a soft spot for people who are down on their luck, people with no real homes to go to or no real support systems in place. He takes each of the three full-time staff members in, gives them gainful employment and tells them that he'll take 10% of their paychecks off each pay in exchange for rent and they can live in one of the studio apartments. And honestly, I don't know why, maybe because it is such an oddly sweet idea, but I don't see him using much of that 10% for his own gain - it goes either back into the café itself or he uses it for the not too rare occasions when he'll show up at one of his staff's doors with either a meal, a bag of groceries, some piece of furniture he knows they'll need, sometimes a new piece of clothing. Yeah, some of it, like the clothing and furniture, might be second-hand, but it's all very appreciated.
And who is this owner I keep talking about? I really see Mihai as the owner of the café. He works there day to day just like everyone else and I really see him becoming a sort of surrogate father figure to not only his staff, but some of his regular customers. A well-meaning man, his past is largely unknown, though he admits to having lost a son and a lover at some point. Maybe that's why he's so keen on taking in 'strays', as the staff like to jokingly refer to themselves as.
While the café does make a modest profit, nobody quite knows where a lot of Mihai's money comes from. One of the staff members, Badou, helps with the bookkeeping, and he did notice that Mihai is not the full owner of the café. There's a silent partner who put up a good chunk of the investment in the place, someone named Ernst Rammsteiner. Nobody's ever seen him or heard his voice and they get no answers on that particular subject from Mihai and it becomes sort of a theory and running joke that maybe Mihai has mob connections or something and the shady co-owner is the head of a Mafia or other outlandish theories.
Who is Ernst Rammsteiner, in all honesty? Truth is, all the staff members do actually know him. The priest at a local church, everyone just knows him as 'Bishop'. He's the cafe's most frequent customer and becomes a friend to all the staff and a fair number of the customers. He doesn't insist on 'confession' being only a thing done inside the church walls…he'll hear confessions, or even people's worries and laments, sitting across from them at a café table just as well as he'll hear them sitting in a confession booth. His church is also very well known for hosting not only community dinners, where he'll hire the café to provide coffee, tea, and such for the meal, but for holding a number of weekly support groups. He also hires the café to cater these support groups, providing coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and pastries for the people who attend.
I really like the idea of these support groups actually being a fairly important thing in the story, because part of peace and happiness is finding healing, support, and growth. It's through catering and observing and learning about these support groups, maybe quietly observing one here or there, that a couple of the characters grow to feel comfortable enough, especially with the help of Bishop, with attending these groups. First Heine, and then Giovanni as well, attend a support group for those who suffered childhood abuse or trauma, and that group, along with the interactions at the café, are what really allow them to sort of heal some and start the steps towards mending their broken brotherhood, even if it's still slow-going. Badou and Naoto attends a grief support group for a while, where they sometimes even find Mihai himself, really learning how to heal after the death of important people in their lives (Badou's brother and Naoto's foster father).
Where did Bishop's money come from to support the café as he does? That's a secret not even Mihai knows…he just knows that, despite how long he's known the other man, Ernst remains an enigma, a complete mystery.
Now, I'll get into the staff members, but because I don't have as many ideas for some of the customers, I'll list the ones I do have.
In my mind, Daniella, Doug, and Mimi are all frequent customers with their own little struggles, lives, and things going on that affect the story here and there but not hugely overall.
Kiri is also a regular at the café and the owner of a really successful restaurant in the town. Everyone thinks there's something romantic going on between her and Mihai, as they spend a fair amount of time together and Kiri does a lot for the café. They both advertise each other's businesses, and the café has a thirty stamp coffee card where, once you fill it up with all thirty stamps (stamps given whenever you buy something), you get a free meal from Kiri's restaurant (menu selections limited). In much the same way, customers at Kiri's restaurant get a little 'free coffee' card valid for the café with their bills. It helps bring a lot of business for the café, to be honest, because most coffee lovers, as mentioned, tend to keep coming back once they've tasted the brew of the day.
Both Campanella and Magato are customers at the café. They both are surprised to see Naoto working there and, much like the others have people they refuse to serve, Naoto as first makes one of the others wait on them and refuses to leave the kitchen area until they're out of the café. Everyone knows there's something there in their past with Naoto, and I do see part of her story being really exploring that, her coming to terms with her pasts with these two and learning how to forgive, how to move forward, either in not speaking to them or in beginning to take the steps into having relationships with them again.
Me mentioning that each member of the staff seems to encounter someone that they just can't bring themselves to serve? That's Richter for Badou and Badou makes no secret of why. He blames the man for his brother's death…it's through the story, finding a new family, healing some of his grief, finding ways to continue in life, that Badou finds a way to at least forgive Richter. Not for the other man's sake, but for the sake of himself. It's when Badou has reached that point but also acknowledged that he wants Richter to play no part in his life that Mihai, encouraged by Ernst, accepts that Badou is in the best place he can be and bans Richter from the establishment.
As mentioned, Giovanni frequents the coffee shop. He stumbled across it randomly one day, he did not know Heine worked there. When I say Heine can't deal with him at first, I mean it. There was an actual physical brawl between the two that Mihai and Bishop had to break up before other customers called the police. Giovanni didn't get banned though and so he keeps coming back every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I think, in his own way, he really does care deeply about Heine and just kind of wants his brother back into his life while also still blaming Heine a little for Lily, because he's so deep into the FOG with his adoptive mother. However, even deep in the FOG, he never mentions the café to Angelika, and even though he's a good big brother to Luki and Noki, and they always ask to go with him on his running around, he never brings them to the café, steers clear of even taking them within a five block radius of it, simply because he doesn't want to risk them exposing Heine's location to Mother. And like mentioned, I think Giovanni starts to find friends, starts to find others who will listen, in the café itself and then in the support group and I think a large part of his character growth through the story would be him just taking steps to become an independent man outside of his family, along with the baby steps he and Heine make in becoming closer to each other and potentially having that brotherly relationship again.
Now, as you can imagine, the three full-time staff members, the ones who live above the café, work around there, really start to grow roots there, are Badou, Heine, and Naoto. Badou is the friendliest of the three of them and he's almost always running the till, doing a lot of the customer service work. His most annoying work habit? He takes frequent smoke breaks, but at the same time, it's during those smoke breaks that he really gets to learn and befriend a lot of the casual customers, turning them into regulars more often than not and really establishing bonds in the community.
Heine always wears gloves because he really can't stand to touch most people. I do think, throughout the story, we see him make some progress there, allowing select people to touch him or taking the gloves off around them. He's a very attractive man and is a draw for a lot of the heterosexual women who frequent the café but he never really does customer service work because he's also very, very bad at talking to people. He makes a little progress through the story but is definitely never going to be customer service material. Instead, he studies and learns quick and becomes the cafe's main barista, able to make even the most complicated of drinks.
Naoto works mainly in the kitchen, but is able to help out front whenever needed. She's quiet but really, the café would kind of fall apart without her, as it's only after she starts that people start to really rave about not just the coffee, but all the different treats and little meals they can get.
I like imagining Nill as a part-time staff member. She helps out Naoto a lot in the kitchen, as well as doing a lot of the cleaning. She's really shy and doesn't interact a lot with the customers, but the other staff kind of take her in, make her feel comfortable, and take care of her. Not a lot is known about her past, just that she lives in the church's rectory with Bishop.
#replies#dogs bullets and carnage#headcanons#au headcanons#coffee shop au#i write for this fandom so little that i hope these are all in character and make sense#but this was really fun to do up#definitely makes me want to push this reread ahead but if i keep interrupting rereads and watches i'll never finish nothing
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my shitty, shitty minho fic that took ages [tmr minho]
I'm sick of rereading this so here is 3.5k words of shitty, self indulgent writing. The confession could have 100% been more heartfelt but I'm sick of looking this in my google docs. There is most definitely a ton of mistakes but idc <3
this isn't really enemies to lover but the whole dynamic minho and the reader have kinda wrote itself lmao
HERE YOU MFS- @agathallalongs @blanknamed
You were fine with the way you woke up. Hell, you preferred it over some snot-nosed kid coming in and waking you up. And as it turns out, having the same schedule for a little under a year makes for a great internal clock, the habit of getting up in time for your daily run already having been instilled in you for months. So when you’re pulled from the peaceful lulls of sleep because of the feeling of being flipped upside down and landing face-first into the dirt floor of the Glade, you were rightfully peeved.
“Rise and shine shank.”
Minho. Of course it was Minho.
“I’m gonna throw you off the Cliff the minute we’re far enough into the Maze.” Sitting up, you try to rub off the dirt that got on your face when you face planted, scowling at the stains that litter the front of your shirt. “This was a new shirt too.”
“Were you thinking of going running with me or do you plan on sitting in the dirt all day?” Despite him being out of sight you can practically see the smug look he’s wearing. “Hey, maybe you can convince Winston to let you get in the pig pen so you can take a nice mud bath.”
Groaning, you finally stand up and turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, holding a paper bag which you presumed had your lunch in it on the other side of your hammock, your very, very twisted hammock.
“Why the hell did you wake me up? I get up fine on my own.”
He shrugs in response, “I just felt like it.”
“You just felt like waking me up or you just felt like getting the world record for ‘biggest pain in the ass’?”
“A bit of both, and seeing your face when you spat out that dirt made you so much more attractive.”
Heat crawls up your neck in embarrassment, “Slim it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in frustration, you gesture in front of you to the tangled mess that hangs between you, “Also you’re gonna fix that.”
“No. It’s your bed.”
“You’re the one who flipped me over! Fix it.”
He stares at you for a second before turning on his heel and jogging off. While he turns to leave you barely catch the way his lips quirk into a smirk. As you watch his retreating figure you can feel your fingers twitch, the urge to strangle him suddenly overwhelming.
“Hey! Get back here shuck-face!” As quickly as you can, you slip your shoes on, not bothering to tie them and pull the leather harness over your head. After one last disapproving glance at your pathetic hammock you’re off, racing after Minho in an effort not to let him get too far ahead. If he beat you to the Doors you’d never hear the end of it.
By the time you catch up with him you’re out of breath. Everytime you would get closer than a few feet behind him he’d run a little faster keeping you at a good few paces behind him, succeeding at prolonging your ever-growing exasperation.
Eventually though he lets you catch up until you’re running side by side, a few meters away from the Walls. “This prison wouldn’t be half as bad if the Creators had put anyone else in here other than you. Preferably someone cuter, without such a punchable face.” You don’t have to look at him to imagine the offended look on his face, one of his most punchable expressions actually.
“I am by far the most attractive guy here. The rest of these shanks look like klunk in cargo shorts.”
“Yeah no. You don’t even break the top 21 on my list.” Once you reach the wall, you lean against it, waiting for the doors to open. When you look at Minho he quirks an eyebrow.
“You have a list?” He pauses for a moment, “Wait there’s only 22 gladers. You included yourself on your own list?”
“Good job! I wasn’t sure if you knew how to count.”
“Slim it. So who’re the top 3?”
You pause for a moment pretending to mull it over. “Well, Gally’s got that whole tall and brooding thing going. And Nick, well I like a man who can take charge-”
“Yeah, yeah okay I get it.” He waves his hand in the air rather indignantly, dismissing what you said. After a minute of silence. the grating sound of rock being dragged against rock echoes through the Glade as the Doors finally start to open. As he tightens the straps of his harness, Minho glances down at the ground and pauses for a moment before he snickers, “You better tie your shoes if you don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face. Might knock you down a few pegs on that list of yours.”
~
It had been hours since you’d left the Glade, running the familiar course of the Maze. The only entertainment being watching the way the back of Minho’s neck turns a lovely shade of red every time you make a particularly irritating comment.
“Hey it’s getting late. We should go back to the Glade.”
Minho shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s not that late. We still have plenty of time to get back.”
“But I finally convinced Fry to make bacon and there's no way that they’ll be any left unless we get there early.” You draw out the last syllable in a whine, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.
He pivots, still continuing to run just now facing backwards. “Is Frypans bacon really more important than finding a way out of this hell hole?”
“Yes!”
“...Fine-” His sigh of annoyance is cut off abruptly as he trips, falling backwards and landing with a loud huff as the air is knocked out of his lungs.
“Shit, Minho!” You kneel beside him as he lays still, “Are you okay?!” Your voice seems to ricochet off the walls.
It takes a moment before he groans, his eyes still closed. “Why are you so shucking loud?”
“Sorry. Are you okay?” Quieting your tone, you hover over him.
He finally opens his eyes, “M’ fine. I just tripped.” Pushing himself up, he tries to stand but the minute he puts pressure on his ankle he gasps in pain, stumbling into you as you stand to catch him.
“Shit. Okay, you just need to sit down.” You lead him over to the wall, letting him support himself against it before he slides down to sit. When he stretches his legs out in front of him you take to kneeling again, this time next to his feet. Rolling back the bottom of his pant leg you check to see how bad his ankle is and judging by the wincing and the gritting of his teeth you’re betting on not good.
It’s only been a minute but you feel your heart drop at the way it’s already swollen and starting to bruise. You frown as you press your finger against it lightly, snapping your hand back as Minho recoils, growling in pain.
“Don’t touch it!”
“Fine. Good luck finding someone else in here that’ll help you. I’m sure the Grievers would be happy to assist.”
“It just hurts asshole, no need to get snappy.”
“Yeah, yeah just stop your whining you big baby.”
He cringes as you begin to prod his ankle again and sets his head back to rest against the wall.
“Well I’d say it’s just a fracture, it doesn't look too messed up- Minho?” He doesn’t respond. “Hey! Minho!” You reach in front of his face and snap your fingers, “C’mon I need you to wake up!”
He moans as he opens his eyes, well squints his eyes. He can barely keep them open half way, “Why is it so bright in here?”
Furrowing your eyebrows you glance up, it really isn’t that bright, gray clouds float across the majority of the sky and cover most of the sun. Looking back at his face, you can’t stop the nauseating feeling of fear that gnaws in your stomach. “Here, move your head off the wall, I need to check something.”
The dark stain on the wall where he was resting against is enough evidence but some irrational, hopeful part of you checks anyways, reaching around him and pressing your fingers to the back of his head. When you bring your hand back, your fingers are covered in blood.
“Damn it.” You try your hardest to push down the anxiety thundering in your stomach as you grab Minho’s arm and wrap it around your shoulder. Now is not the time to panic. “We need to get you back to the Glade.”
~
You’re not surprised he’s heavy, almost a year of running almost everyday tends to build up a lot of muscle however that doesn't make it any easier for you to carry him. You had to have been stumbling around for hours before you had to fully set him down to catch your breath.
“You really need to lay off Fry’s cooking. I’m telling him that you’re going on a diet the minute we get back.”
You only get silence in response, prompting you to look over and make sure he hadn’t passed out again. His eyes were open but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focusing on something on the wall across from the one you were leaning against. You raise your hand and rest it against his shoulder, “Minho?”
“You need to leave me behind.”
The nauseous feeling returns, “What? No way I’m leaving you here to be Griever food.”
His face twists in frustration as he turns to look at you. “We’ll both be killed if you don’t get the hell out!”
“We still have time! I can carry you the rest of the way just fine.” Grabbing his wrist you pull his arm across your shoulders, tightening your grip when you feel him try to tug his arm back. “We’re going.” You wrap your arm around his waist to support him as you force him to stand.
He tries to pull away, “Why are you being so shucking stubborn! I can barely walk! There’s no way you’ll make it time before the Doors close.”
“Well that’s tough for me I guess.” You begin to walk forward, trying to adjust the way his body weight rested against you.
He begins to say your name but you interrupt him, “No! I’m not leaving you and that’s final.” Cursing the slight waver in your voice you continue to look ahead, choosing to ignore the frustrated look on his face.
It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to set in, Minho seeming to weigh even more every ten minutes. As you drag your feet across the uneven floor, the toe of your shoe catches on a crack, sending you both stumbling forward for what seems like the fiftieth time. The only difference is that this time you aren’t able to catch yourself, fatigue catching up with you and sending both you and Minho careening forward.
Stabbing pain shoots through your legs as you fall to your knees, the sound of Minho groaning in pain causes waves of guilt to wash over you. The sudden realization of just how dire your situation seems to suffocate you.
This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been so annoying Minho never would have tripped. If you were strong enough you would have been able to carry him all the way. Why weren’t you strong enough?
The soft call of your name shakes you out of your stupor, it’s followed by a hand pressed against the side of your face. It’s only when his thumb swipes against your cheek that you realize you’re crying.
“I’m sorry.” You shift slightly until you’re sitting down, knees pulled up to your chest. He follows and sits next you with his legs stretched out, hissing as he accidentally drags his ankle across the ground. “This is my fault.” Staring at the exposed part of his ankle, your stomach swirls at the dark purple bruising.
When he notices you staring he’s quick to pull his pant leg down, “This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have been running backwards.” He watches you for a second, contemplating, before he speaks again, “You can still leave now and make it.”
“I’m not talking about this again.”
“Why not-”
“I just can’t leave you behind okay! It would kill me knowing that I got us into this mess and I couldn’t get both of us out alive.”
“So you’re just going to kill yourself because you would feel bad if you didn’t?” At his harsh words you whip your head to look at him, surprised to find him angry, his nose flaring and teeth gritting.
“Why are you getting so mad?! And you know it’s more than that! I’m not leaving you here, you can yell all you want but it’s not going to change anything.”
He throws his hands up in the air in indignation, “Why?! Why do you have to be so stubborn!” His tone is harsh and he practically spits his words at you.
A flurry of emotions lodges in your throat and a burning, hot anger ignites in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your lips are moving faster than your brain can process, “Because I love you, you idiot! I can’t just leave you behind because you're the reason I haven’t jumped the shucking Cliff yet!” Your heart is beating impossible fast and for a split second you wonder if it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You watch as Minho’s face morphs into an expression of shock and before you can identify the emotion swirling in his eyes you swear you can hear someone's footsteps.
You scramble to your feet, straining your ears in hopes that you weren’t imagining it. In the distance you hear the rushed strides of someone running in your direction and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. It was far too late for another runner to be out in the Maze.
“Hey!” Cupping your hands around your mouth you hope they hear you. You hear Minho grunt and the sound of him dragging against the stone wall as he stands.
His voice rings through Maze as he calls out.
After a moment of tense silence you hear the quick foot falls of another runner getting closer before you spot his familiar blond hair turning the corner.
“Ben! Oh my god!”
He comes to a stop in front of you, his expression worried, “What are you guys still doing here? The Doors are closing soon!”
“Minho got hurt and I wasn’t able to carry him all the way back. Why are you out so late?”
“I figured I’d stay out later than usual. Had a bad feeling.” He glances over your shoulder to look at Minho. “We need to get going if we want to make it in time.”
Nodding your head, you turn around and make your way over to where Minho is leaning against the wall. You can feel his eyes on you, pleading for you to look at him but you’re adamant at avoiding eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Ben glancing back and forth between you, no doubt feeling the tension.
Having someone else there to help made carrying Minho infinitely easier and the three of you stumbled through the doors just as they began to groan, closing behind you.
“What took you so bloody long?” The familiar accent of Newt floats across the Glade but you’re too exhausted to even look in his direction. It isn’t until he’s standing right in front of you that you tear your eyes from Ben and Minho as they make their way to the Med-Jack hut.
“Minho fractured his ankle and got a concussion.” Your hands clench in anger as you speak, “If it hadn’t been for Ben we wouldn’t have made it out.”
“Aren’t you going to go check on him?” Newt frowns at you.
The thought of being in the same room with Minho after you practically dumped your heart out on him made your stomach churn. “No, I think- I think I’m just going to let him rest for now.”
Newt opens his mouth to comment, no doubt going to point out that you never left Minho’s side but you’re quick to interrupt him. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go shower and get some rest.” You force a smile and begin to walk in the direction of the showers before he’s able to speak.
It seems to take ages to get to the bathrooms. Fatigue makes your limbs feel sluggish and the adrenaline of being in the Maze ebbs away, leaving aching muscles in its wake. You can’t seem to shake the thoughts of Minho as you scrub yourself clean. He probably wanted nothing to do with you and your big fat mouth. If you’d only bitten your tongue for another minute you wouldn’t have this looming air of regret suffocating you.
The regret seems to pull tighter against your throat when you notice your hammock, still twisted from this morning. Tears gather at your waterline, threatening to spill over. The view in front of you is distorted and watery and your fingers fumble with the twisted strings before you give up, whining in frustration.
You pause for a moment before turning in the direction of the Med-Jack hut, your heart desperately yearning to see him. Before you have time to think, you’re wiping your teary eyes with the back of your hand and practically jogging to the little run down shack, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs.
Hesitating at the door you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you’re pushing against it. The room is silent, both Clint and Jeff having left and gone to bed. Scanning the room you notice a bed in the corner, Minho sleeping peacefully under it’s covers. His face slack as he rests, his forehead covered by a thin, white bandage that stretches around his head. As you silently pull up a chair to his bedside you study him, it isn’t often you get to see his face when it isn’t creased with stress or in any expression other than a smirk.
Smiling softly. you reach up and pull his blanket up a little higher until it covers his shoulders, the night had a cold edge to it despite it being well into summer. After sitting there for a few minutes your eyelids begin to get heavy, like something was weighing them down. For a moment the idea of walking back to your hammock crosses your mind but you immediately dismiss it, just thinking about getting up is exhausting. You cross your arms on the side of his bed and rest your head against them. It doesn’t take long before the comfort of sleep consumes you.
Garbled words and the feeling of something brushing against your face is what wakes you this time. Opening your eyes, the first thing you notice are Minho’s pretty brown ones staring back at you, the next thing you notice are the hushed snickers from behind you. Shooting up straight you feel the warm rush of embarrassment flood your cheeks.
“It was about time you woke up!” Clint pipes up, “Lover boy here hasn’t stopped staring at you since we came in here to check on him.”
This time, pink begins to tint Minho’s cheeks and creep up his neck, “Slim it! Get outta here would ya?”
“Okay! We’re going!” You turn around just in time to see Clint pushing Jeff out the door and throwing you a wink before shutting the door.
The awkwardness is palpable as you stare down at your lap. The bed creaks as Minho shifts to sit up against the headboard, the sound seeming incredibly loud in the silence. Mustering up your courage you finally speak.
“I’m sor-”
“I love you too!’
Your head shoots up as he interrupts you, eyes wide as you take in his expression that mirrors your own.
“What?”
His body language tells you that he had most definitely not meant to say that, his mouth moving up and down as he tries to figure out what to say.
Your heart catches in your throat as you process his words, “You love me?”
At the slow nod of his head, a beaming smile splits your face, and before you can stop yourself you're pulling him into a crushing hug. Caught off guard, he stiffens for a moment as you wrap your arms around him but as soon as you let out a shaky breath against his neck he winds his arms around you.
“Is this okay?”
At your hushed tone he pulls you tighter against him, “This is more than okay.”
#I told myself I wouldn't tag this but just out of curiosity-#the maze runner x reader#tmr x reader#tmr minho x reader#if any kpoppies get this- sorry ig lmao
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Baby’s First Punk Rock Concert: 1/2
Billy hummed to himself, washing his hands. His knees were scuffed from the cement floor, his throat was raw, and he wanted a drink to wash the taste of latex away. He grinned in the mirror at the man behind him, who slid an arm around him and squeezed, licking the sweat off his neck and kissing his ear.
“You sure you don’t want to leave now,” he whispered, rocking his pelvis against Billy’s ass.
Billy laughed, elbowing him away. “Show hasn’t even started.”
“Give me your number,” the guy tried next, and Billy looked him over.
“Just here for a good time,” Billy told him, leaning in for a kiss as he slid by.
“Have a good night, you’re beautiful!” the guy yelled as he opened the door on the rest of the bar, and Billy’s cheeks heated as he considered heel-turning right back in and letting himself get hauled to some dude’s apartment.
I can make it a couple weeks, he thought, without calling up some random asshole to tell me I’m pretty. That’s a thing a normal person should be able to do.
The bar was crowded—everybody wanting to get their drinks before the opening act started—and Billy got jostled into exactly the kind of homophobic dickheads that made trouble at Dicks shows. He wondered, in the back of his mind, what looks they’d have on their faces when Gary Floyd walked out in drag. They didn’t like a t-shirt, apparently, from the slurs they were guffawing, and the actual lost child they had braced against the wall was swallowing convulsively, with huge eyes. The bartender caught Billy’s eye, and jerked her head at the kid. “Go ahead and make another dent on my bar, Billy,” she shouted.
“Hey hey,” Billy said, leaning between their heads, and interrupting their flow of critique of the kid’s t-shirt. He slid his arms around their shoulders to show them his hands. “—lookie, my knuckles’ve just about healed up from the Nazis I hadta smash into that bar! Y’know what that means,” he whispered against the ear of the one to his left, who’d gone rigid, staring around at a grim bartender and silent patrons,“—what that means, is,” he told the one on his right, “—my knuckles are itchy.”
They scrambled away, and the kid they’d had cornered took a shaky breath.
“Freebies on me,” the bartender smacked a beer and a bottled water on the bar next to them, and Billy took a long grateful pull on the beer.
The kid stared at her, then the beer, then Billy—and Billy tried not to snort his beer as the wide brown eyes followed his throat as he swallowed, then looked over his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned, before blinking back up, red-cheeked, at Billy’s face, and grabbing clumsily for the water. Of course he’s hot for me, Billy bit back a grin, a middle-schooler who sneaks in to see a band that made J.D.’s Top Ten Homocore hits. “You, uh, here with a…” he trailed off, frowning around, “—a—somebody else?”
The kid’s eyes widened, and then narrowed at Billy, and he nodded.
“You want me to stick around until they show back up?”
The kid’s eyes narrowed further, and he startled as somebody rattled by on a skateboard, so Billy backed away. “Stay over here, and that bartender will keep an eye on you,” Billy told him, finishing the last couple swallows of the beer, and waving for another.
“I won’t let him get drunk—what are you, twelve?! The hell did you get in here—” the bartender yelled over the crowd, pushing back from the bar to run to the other end.
The kid didn’t look like he was gonna answer the question. He still held the water bottle with his fingertips, like it might explode, and Billy accepted a shot glass from somebody who clapped him on the back.
“Anyway,” Billy tossed back the shot and shifted, thinking. His shoes stuck to the floor. “If you need anything. You want a t-shirt? I can shove people around. Get you in to buy a t-shirt.”
The kid flushed even more red, staring at him, and Billy grinned, shaking his head.
“Okay, well, you know I’m here. Drink lots of water, okay. Only gonna get hotter in here. You got earplugs?”
“Wha?” the kid whispered, clearing his throat.
“Here,” Billy said, slapping some in his hand, “—thank me when you can hear tomorrow.”
The kid nodded, watching him go, and Billy resisted swaggering, not wanting to be the cause of a child’s dislocated jaw.
He was zoned into the music, yelling, when he ran into the girls. He'd yanked his shirt off and shoved most of it into his back pocket so somebody with “VEGAN DYKE” scrawled across her bared breasts could write “QUEER” across his chest in lipstick. He'd always looked good in red.
“Hoy Billy!” Kali yelled, and he waved back, chugging enough of his beer to not spill it as he wove through the crowd.
“Hey,” he shouted back, clinking their drinks together.
Her lips thinned, scanning the crowd, and then she stood on her toes to yell up. “Where’s the jackass?”
“What?!”
“Your other half?!”
Billy cleared his throat. “He wasn’t,” Billy shouted back, then mouthed, then mimed a wedding ring, pulling it off, and tossing it over his shoulder.
She elbowed him, grinning, and yanked him down by the shoulder. “You’re better off—BETTER OFF,” she tried to stage-whisper over the crowd, loud as microphone feedback in his ear, and he shoved her off. The kid from earlier was staring at him through Kali and El like a pygmy owl through underbrush, and Billy shrugged, waving.
When the set ended, El surveyed the crowd, her hands over her ears. “Maybe you’ll find a new boyfriend here,” she suggested. “D’you see anyone you think is attractive? I could—”
“Pretty happy as a free agent, for now,” Billy cut her off, laughing. “Don’t drag anyone over.”
“I could, though,” she said, squinting. “What about that one? He could pick you up, probably, we could ask him to try.”
Billy choked on his beer, and Kali smacked his back.
“We're not holding try-outs, El. I think he wants to shop around,” she said, and Billy nodded, eyeing El’s pick. She knew him better than he thought, apparently, because the line of the worn t-shirt stretched over the man’s shoulderblades down to his very tight jeans had Billy’s definite attention, and the lipstick made something relax between his shoulders. But the stranger was screaming something at the stage, and waving a clenched fist, and Billy shook his head.
“Want me to see how the front of his jeans look?” El asked, miming a crotch bulge, and even Kali nearly spit her drink, cackling.
“No, nah,” Billy laughed, grinning down at her. “Think I’d like to try somebody who doesn’t start out pissed off, this time.”
Kali grimaced, shook her head, and squeezed his arm.
El shrugged, sliding an arm around Kali, and the kid. “We’re thirsty. Oh, this is Will,” she told Billy, pointing behind her as she and Kali cut away through the crowd, and the kid nodded, glancing up at BIlly with narrowed eyes.
“Me too,” Billy shrugged, glancing over at him, and lighting a cigarette. “William, I mean. Billy Hargrove.”
“Will Byers. Um, thank you. For earlier,” the kid said, finally, and Billy nodded, squinting at him through the smoke and dim lighting from the stage. He had a too-large shirt hanging half off one shoulder. It had some kind of calligraphy on it, hard to make out.
“…aren’t you a little young for beer?” Billy asked.
“I’m thirteen. Almost fourteen,” the kid shot back, and Billy remembered telling people he was six and three-quarters, and covered a snort.
“Yeah, sure. Y’know, when you’re old enough to go to school, they’ll teach you how to count up your age,” he said, dodging a swift elbow. “Nice shirt. That an elf?”
“…shut up,” the boy frowned down at his shirt, and firmed his little pointy chin, clenching his hands into fists.
Billy shrugged. “Looks like Lord of the Rings or something. Elves.”
“It’s Cirith Ungol ,” Will hissed up, scowling. “I know, not the place for metal, here, those assholes told me—wait, you—you read Lord of the Rings?”
“Yeah, who knew, I can read,” Billy whispered back, and Will sighed, rolling his eyes. Billy relented. “I even read the Silmarillion.”
“Really?!” Will squeaked, beaming, and bouncing a little on his toes, and yanking his t-shirt taut to show it off. “Cirith Ungol is from the Lord of the Rings! They’re—they’re a band named after a place in Lord of the Rings!”
“I know,” Billy grinned down at him. “On the way to Mordor.”
“I—I like Faramir,” Will bit his lips, swallowing, his eyes searching Billy’s face. “I—I reread all the Faramir parts, I l-love Faramir—”
“Everybody wants Faramir,” Billy whispered back, holding his hand under the QUEER on his chest like he was selling his titties on the Price is Right. “I’ve got the book in my car,” he added, clinking his glass into the kid’s water bottle. “How d’you know El and Kali?”
“Oh. My brother’s girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend teaches their little-league team,” Will answered, as though that was a comprehensible thing to say, and Billy choked on his beer.
“Kali’s in—” he cocked his head, grinning through the crowd, and trying to imagine her in a baseball cap and white button-up uniform.
“Oh, she’s not any more. But their mom—”
Foster mom, Billy thought, wondering whether Will wasn’t aware, or just didn’t see the difference.
“—she gets everybody who wants into Little League, says kids should get to swing bats around. Um. I—I do want a t-shirt,” he admitted, still beaming that bewildered smile up at Billy like he couldn’t believe he was awake, and Billy covered his grin with his beer.
“Let’s elbow our way in, then,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
In the thick of the crowd, and the thick of the smoke, it was hard to get people’s attention, but Billy smacked shoulders, and yelled in the politest way of his people, and once they turned around and saw Will’s determined jaw, and he pointed from his shirt to the merch table, they pushed him onwards, yelling a course open.
By the time they reached the stage he was travelling with a company of pierced, painted protectors suited for his fantasy novels. He thanked a towering woman in platform combat shoes, a person in a clown suit of indeterminate gender, and a group of men with their arms around each other like they were in a musical football huddle, and they smacked his shoulders. Will giggled, bouncing a little on his toes.
At the table there were shirts for both bands, and Will steepled his fingers before selecting one of each. The crowd around him, now invested, cheered, and he ducked his head, grinning. There wasn’t a shirt small enough, of course, but Will looked delighted with the two t-shirts he bought, hugging them to his chest and turning to face the tide of humanity, when the other band walked onstage, and introduced themselves as the Big Boys.
The singer did a spin in his tutu, waving to the audience, and everyone yowled at the first riff of guitar, shouting “Biscuit!” and song names. Will’s eyes widened as he got shoved back into the table, nearly overturning it. Billy planted his feet against the press of people, feeling like a herd beast protecting its child from a stampede. The surrounding punks started yelling—both about Will, and at the musicians, and Billy crouched, patting at his own shoulders. He tried to yell instructions through the wall of noise, but Will just blinked at him.
Will’s hands were white-knuckled on his haul, and Billy slapped his shoulder to get his attention, pointed to all of him, and then Billy’s own shoulders again, and held his hands out. After a headcocked moment, Will nodded, and Billy picked him up and plonked him astride Billy’s head. Like that, Will could see, and Billy could dance, as much as anyone could, wedged in the crowd. Somebody started throwing food—Billy honestly wasn’t sure whether it was the crowd or the band—and the opening riffs of Fun, Fun, Fun started, and Will nearly climbed onto his head.
The singer whooped, waving, and Will waved back—and the guitarist beckoned him up, grabbing some other fan who’d crawled halfway onto the stage and hauling her up by the belt. Billy elbowed closer, steadying Will as he climbed on the stage, and the singer introduced himself as Biscuit, grappling Will and a pile of other fans to sing the chorus into the microphone.
The rest of the concert was a blur of adrenaline, as Billy panicked a bit over Will’s choice to crowdsurf to him, but he arrived safely, and Billy double-checked that he was wearing the earplugs. Will climbed back up his shoulders, shouting along with the lyrics, and Billy relaxed into the pounding drums, letting himself be jostled and heated by the music and people roaring around him.
After the last encore—when most of the audience was still onstage, singing the chorus of Hollywood Swinging for the seven hundredth time, and the Big Boys had yelled their signature “Now y’all go start your own band!”—El ran up and grabbed Billy’s arm, waving to Kali.
“Couldn’t get to you,” Kali panted, grinning up at Will.
“I got on stage!” Will yelled, and El cheered.
“You don’t have anything written on you,” she told them, pointing out the “ANARCHY!” written across her back, between the straps of her tank top. “Do you want me to write something on you? It’s sticky.”
“No,” Will giggled. He let himself drape forward against the back of Billy’s head, heaving a long sigh. “That was fun, fun, fun.”
Billy caught the momentary relief on Kali’s face, before she smiled. “Our ride’s probably waiting,” she said, for some reason, to Billy.
El blinked. “Oh! Will, have you called Steve?”
“Noooo,” Will snickered, high on adrenaline, and possibly the smoke. “I still need to call him.”
“Mmmm,” El frowned, glancing at the door.
“I can stay with him,” Billy offered, shrugging. “Since he, y’know. He goddamn...lives on my head now. Climbing monkey.” Will giggled.
“Oh,” El gasped, wide-eyed, “—Kali. Steve’s coming to pick Will up. Steve. Billy’s going to meet Steve.”
Kali drug her away, muttering about yentas, and waved over her shoulder at them.
“Thanks for the ticket, Kali!” Will bawled after them, and Billy snorted, shaking his head, and went to get another bottle of water for both of them.
“Gotta pee?” he asked his nesting owl, and Will hugged his head.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Well, I do,” Billy told him. “You gotta get down sometime. You can call your ride.”
After a long moment of silence, Will sighed, swinging a leg back over Billy’s shoulder, and he helped manhandle the kid to the ground.
Despite his original plans coming to a queercore concert, Billy hurried in the bathroom, avoiding eye contact, to come out and see Will perusing somebody’s zines. They were laid out on jackets on the floor, with some empty shot glasses. The ladies selling them were half-asleep—probably stoned, Billy gauged, from the red eyes under their skull makeup, and the smell of the smoke—but they smirked goodhumoredly at Will’s questions about who wrote them, and how they were printed (“Photocopied,” one whispered, giggling), and whose pictures and articles were inside.
“Her poetry’s in there,” the left one leaned to kiss the right one, and Will gaped, again, as he’d done all night, every time somebody did anything queer. He grabbed the zine, scrabbling for his wallet, and glancing up at Billy. The whole selection was probably pornographically gay, but Billy shrugged, knowing from his own squinting experience that the pictures would be so badly photocopied Will’s imagination would have to do all the work.
“I’m a dollar short of buying all of them,” Will said, resting his chin on his hands to survey what looked like their own homebrew edition of Queercore, and the latest Dr Smith and JDs , and Billy rolled his eyes and dug out his wallet. The woman on the left patted her jacket down, and pulled out a blunt—she handed it to the one on the right, who lit up—then tugged at her inside pocket, grinning at Billy. She yanked at it again. "I've—I've got Last Rites' Code Blue," she whispered, jerking a cassette free, and waving it upside down, and Will made a soft noise in his throat, reaching for it.
"So do I," Billy leaned to whisper in Will's ear, and handed over the dollar for the zines. "I'll make you a copy, if you like."
“Thank you,” Will told them, and then beamed up at Billy, who rolled his eyes and helped the kid fold everything up so he could carry it. “...uh, Steve said, um, he said he could pick me up at the diner. Around the corner?”
As they wove through the remaining—extremely drunk—crowd, Will grabbed him by the shoulder, and started trying to climb his back again. Billy piggy-backed him out to the parking lot, which had turned into an impromptu drunken skate park. Somebody'd brought spraypaint, and they were painting skateboards. Will nearly fell off, staring at the flips, and Billy got his leather jacket out of his motorcycle saddlebag—only to register Will hanging over his shoulder to reach for it like he was in the middle of a religious experience.
Billy waved it back and forth, and the kid’s head followed. Billy shivered, sweaty as he was in the night air, but held the jacket up. “You want to try it?”
“Yeh!” Will squeaked. “Yeh-yes!”
Billy sighed, and hefted his charge towards the diner, grinning to himself at Will’s describing every song as though Billy hadn’t been paying attention.
“Oh!” Will yelped, smacking his shirts and zines over Billy’s chest just in time for Billy to push at the door.
“Right,” Billy snorted, remembering the word scrawled across his chest, and finding an empty booth.
Will interrogated Billy on his order, his music taste, Lord of the Rings, and was just rounding back to hashbrowns or toast—Billy shook his head again, laughing, his stomach if not his brain still entirely full of beer—when a man in a pink polo shirt, smelling of clean laundry, soap, and faint cologne, swung into the booth and grinned at the server.
“Hashbrowns for me,” he panted. His sleeved arm was warm against Billy’s sweaty one, and his thigh pressed against Billy’s jeans.
“We can stay?” Will asked, wide-eyed, and Steve cast a sideways glance at Billy.
“Unless you’ve got somewhere to be. Steve Harrington.” He held out a hand, and Billy wiped his hand on his jeans before shaking it.
“Billy Hargrove,” he replied, realizing his voice was hoarse, and Steve’s eyes sparkled when he smiled.
“I didn’t think you’d even get in,” Steve told Will. “When you said—”
“Oh, they get shut down all the time,” Billy told him, half-laughing, half-cringing. “They don’t even have a liquor license.”
“Or a sign,” Will whispered. “They used to be a gay bar.”
“That they did.” Billy accepted coffee from the server, who winked at him.
“Billy helped me get t-shirts,” Will told Steve, grabbing one from the pile of leather jacket, t-shirts, and zines next to him. “He let me sit on his shoulders.”
“Oh, did he?” Steve ran his fingers though his hair, missing the part where it stuck up at the back, and Billy’s itched to follow them. Steve’d be asleep, Will’d explained, in the middle of the night—and now having seen him it was impossible for Billy not to imagine Steve Harrington sprawled across silken sheets. Snoring, probably, or possibly grinning, like now, as he listened to this nerdy kid Billy was fairly certain he barely knew.
Will gave Steve a play-by-play on the concert, and Steve laughed when the kid waxed melodramatic about Billy’s rescue. “He scared them off with his arms,” Will slumped sideways against his pile of clothes, one leg kicking in the air. “And his tattoos.”
“Sounds pretty heroic,” Steve said, leaning to bump his shoulder against Billy’s, and Billy laughed, biting his lip.
“He’s all sweaty everywhere because he let me sit on his shoulders the whole time,” Will continued, and Billy let his head thump back against the wall of the booth, staring at the ceiling, and wondering why he had ever been born.
“Oh, I’ve been to concerts,” Steve laughed. “It’s hot in there. Particularly if you’re carrying some tiny shithead.” He grinned over at Billy, then jerked, muttering as Will kicked him under the table.
Billy grinned back, relaxing a bit. “You don’t mind a little sweat, Harrington?”
Steve snorted, watching Billy’s mouth, then bit his own. He met Billy’s eyes as he let his lip slide between his teeth, and Billy stared, feeling a dull ache as his fingers dug into his thighs, trying to distract himself from his dick wanting to leap out of his jeans.
Will's voice broke the spell. “He helped me up on the stage and I got to sing with them—”
“What, really?” Steve looked back at Will, distracted, and Billy took a slow breath, wondering if Steve could possibly be unaware of the letters across his chest. Wondering whether this preppy Ivy-League looking kid would let Billy suck him off in the bathroom before he drove away, and forgot people like Billy Hargrove existed.
“They, um,” Billy said, swallowing, and trying to remember the question. “They do that. Big Boys. They get the audience onstage.”
By the time the food arrived, Will was rambling about Billy’s need to read Farmer Giles of Ham, and the affect of Tolkien on Led Zeppelin—Billy thought, because Steve Harrington kept unleashing smiles down at his cup of coffee like guided ballistic missiles.
@sky2fall Hope you like it! Thanks to The Dicks and Big Boys for their image and fictional likeness!
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Miranda’s Fic Recs
I’ve been wanting to do this for a while because I just have a lot of fics in different fandoms that I truly enjoy. These are mostly long fics because that’s what I read the most. Fandoms included: Teen Wolf, Harry Potter, MCU, Star Trek, Kingsman, and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Find them below! (Some fanfic spoilers ahead)
So I’m starting with completed fics and then I have a few not completed fics at the end that I’m just really liking.
Embers by Vathara
Rating: Not Rated, Word Count: 704,200 Fandom: A:TLA
Dragon’s fire is not so easily extinguished; when Zuko rediscovers a lost firebending technique, shifting flames can shift the world....
This is an Avatar: The Last Airbender rewrite. It’s Zuko centric and it splits off while Zuko and Uncle Iroh are on the run and Zuko learns of healing firebending. The world building is so good and interesting and the whole fic does a great job of reimagining the A:TLA world. You meet a lot of new characters that are super well written and fit the world nicely.
The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie
Rating: E, Word Count: 715,940, Fandom: Harry Potter, Ship: Hermione/Sirius
When Hermione finds a way to bring Sirius back from the veil, her actions change the rest of the war. Little does she know her spell restoring him to life provokes magic she doesn’t understand and sets her on a path that ends with a Time-Turner.
This fic is so good and I’ve reread it before. I love Hermione centric fics and this is definitely one. When she goes back in time she goes through school again with the Marauders and it’s so good you guys. I think the fic does such a good job of showing her grow with these new people. The relationships in this fic are so intense and I love them.
Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith
Rating: Not Rated, Word Count: 65,675, Fandom: Teen Wolf, Ship: Stiles/Peter
Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter’s just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephews without fucking them up too badly.
Paths cross.
This is the first in a series of fics. It’s a Human AU with aged up Stiles and friends but with little kids Derek, Laura, and Cora. This fic is a good time and sweet and honestly low stakes which is so nice to have these days. I think a lot of Steter fics are more intense and I enjoy them but this is such a nice change of pace where you really get to know the characters in these fairly different circumstances. The whole series word count is 161,859.
A Sequence That You Never Learned by AnnaTaylor
Rating: E, Word Count: 64,624, Fandom: Star Trek: AOS, Ship: James T. Kirk/Spock
“Spock,” Jim breathes out, completely overwhelmed by the gesture—not quite believing that Spock knows him so well, that he’s already started researching, that he trusts Jim with a member of his own endangered species.
When Jim gets it in his head to adopt an eight-year-old Vulcan, Spock presents a logical solution to the issue of Jim’s of humanity: marriage to a Vulcan citizen.
This was one of my first Spirk fics and I honestly love kid fics. Vulcan kids are so different from Jim, but I love the idea that Vulcans still love him anyway. This is such a great Fake Marriage fic.
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out by mia6363
Rating: E, Word Count: 13,232, Fandom: Teen Wolf, Ship: Stiles centric but technically Stiles/Peter
Commander Stilinski looks like he fell out of a propaganda video, his armor still smoking as he pulled off his helmet and handed it off to First Officer Argent. He had a few bruises down his neck but his smile was bright.
“Glad to see you safe and sound, Mr. Hale. I’d hate for Derek to lose a member of his family.”
“I told you,” Derek snapped at his superior, “he’s not worth this, Commander.”
This is the shortest fic on my list but I love this take. It’s got a Star Trek vibe and I LOVE how everyone is made into these different aliens. Stiles being human here is so interesting and it reminds me of those “humans are the craziest of the aliens” posts. It’s got multiple POVs and I think they’re written really well and do a great job of coming together.
Where Thou Art, That is Home by ShanaStoryteller
Rating: Various, Word Count: 94,108, Fandom: Teen Wolf, Ship: Stiles/Derek
Stiles is 10 when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seems to continue indefinitely.
“Then he’s facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There’s Mr. Hale asleep - he hope asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that’s his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man’s chest so he knows he’s alive, but he’s not waking up. He shoves away his hood so he can shout, “Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there’s a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!” Nothing, he’s not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breathes like they’re having the most peaceful of rest, and Stiles is going to cry. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
There’s a moment where all Stiles can here is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it’s all back and both men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet.”
This is another series! It creates a Hales Survive AU and it’s got BAMF!Stiles. The Hales in this fic are so interesting and it’s an expanded family from what we see in canon. Magic!Stiles is written so well in this fic and things get intense but it’s so good.
Counterpart by sara_holmes
Rating: M, Word Count: 217,400, Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Ship: Steve/Tony
coun•ter•part [koun-ter-pahrt] [noun] 1. a person or thing closely resembling another, especially in function. 2. a copy; duplicate. 3. one of two parts that fit, complete, or complement one another.
Just because Hydra used the DNA of a Captain America from another dimension to create a lab-grown, six-year-old super-soldier, it doesn't mean that said six-year old super-soldier is biologically Steve's, right?
(Where Steve wants to ban Clint from bringing things home from alternative dimensions, until he doesn't.)
This is an amazing kid fic. Things are so messed up because of how the kids was raised up to the point they find him.I love Tony so much in this fic but also you sympathize a bit with Steve. The kid whose name I will leave out is my absolute favorite. This is also a series!
Fallout by Whisper91 kingsman
Rating: E, Word Count: 164,971, Fandom: Kingsman, Ship: Eggsy/Harry/Merlin
As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Gary 'Eggsy' Unwin is a registered Dominant. It's on his driver's licence. It's on his National Insurance card. Hell, it's even on his bloomin' GCSE certificates. And the fact that it's all a load of bollocks is a secret Eggsy had intended to take to his grave.
Course, he hadn't been expectin' a bloody sub-drop to sweep in and knock him on his arse in the wake of the Valentine Massacre. Turns out grief and adrenaline ain't a good combination.
I really enjoy the dynamics between the three of them. D/s fics are always so amazingly well built and I love fics like this where they’re hiding their dynamic. I think this fic does a great job of going further with the D/S world and giving it more biologically. I just reread this fic recently because I love how it’s done.
It’s Insanity But... by rosepetals42
Rating: M, Word Count: 71,477, Fandom: Teen Wolf, Ship: Stiles/Derek
The doorbell interrupts what had turned out to be quite the epic shoe hunt but, really, he’s grateful for the break. Or at least, he is until he heads down the stairs to grab the door, trips over a stuffed animal of some kind, bashes his head on the wall and barely manages to catch himself from falling down the entire flight of stairs. As with all things, Stiles would like to state, for the record, that this is Scott’s fault.
Or: Scott and Stiles are raising seven children. Derek is the entertainer they hire for a birthday party (not a clown though, he’s very specific on that fact.)
This fic is such a good time! I love two bro’s raising kids together. It’s a hilarious setup and also just so good for the Stiles and Scott dynamic. Each chapter is like a slice of life. Some chapters are more about the kids and some are about Stiles and Derek. It’s just a fun fic and I love that it’s still got werewolves because I think a lot of fics that focus more on regular stuff go full on human AU. Keeping werewolves is much more fun and it’s so well handled here!
So Wise We Grow by Deastar
Rating: M, Word Count: 81,248, Fandom: Star Trek, Ship: James T. Kirk/Spock
”Commander Spock, we have located your son,” the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock’s face that he’s never heard of this kid before in his life. “If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week.”
This fic is two long chapters. Again, I love kid fic and this one does such a great job. We’ve got pining and hurt/comfort and all kinds of good feels here. There’s one line about t’hy’la that is just *chefs kiss* so good and hits you hard.
Play It Again by metisket
Rating: T, Word Count: 63,206, Fandom: Teen Wolf, Ship: Stiles/Derek
In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggest bets have been placed.)”
This is fairly Stiles centric. It really looks into the emotions of jumping universes. The alive Hale family is so good and it’s magic!Stiles which is always interesting. What I think makes it extra good is that in a lot of universe jump or time travel fics it’s more about adjusting to how things will be now. But this fic does that while also having the new universe with its own problems. It’s just fun to see Stiles deal with all these things.
Happy Lights by LadyShadowDrake
Rating: E, Word Count: 108,237, Fandom: MCU, Ship: Mixed
An interdimensional portal opens over New York and drops a tentacled alien in the middle of Central Park. The Avengers are called out to investigate, and hopefully return the visitor home. Steve has been brushing up on his diplomacy, but he never expected to be a liaison to an alien in such an intimate capacity, or that the alien would be so friendly, and the unusual visit turns into the world's best team-building exercise.
This is a series that is so much fun. The alien (aka the colony) is so interesting and sweet in the long run. I love seeing the team grow and as you go through the series you really get to see more of them coming together. This is just a playful fic that you can have a good time reading.
Magpie by waldorph
Rating: E, Word Count: 57,648, Fandom: Star Trek: AOS, Ship: James T. Kirk/Spock
Spock met Jim when he was 7 and Jim was 6. It has since been generally agreed that this was a mistake (or: the one where they grew up together and things are simultaneously better and worse for it).
This is such a deep dive of both Spock and Jim. It’s them growing up together and it splits off some as far as events that happen in canon. It ends before they become Starfleet. I think this fic creates such an interesting bond between Spock and Jim. I also really love where it goes as far as Spock not having grown up alone on Vulcan.
These are the unfinished fics. The first two are in progress and the last one seems to be abandoned.
Survival is a Talent by ShanaStoryteller
Rating: T, Word Count: 353,015, Fandom: Harry Potter, Ship: Harry/Draco
In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone.
Their best isn't perfect.
~
“Are you trying to get killed, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, stalking forward. Quick as a serpent himself, he reaches out and grabs the snake just below the head. It thrashes in his grip, but is no longer able to bite anyone. “This is a poisonous snake, and I doubt anyone brought a bezoar with them.”
Harry glares. He opens his mouth, and feels the beginning the snake’s language pass his lips, and this isn’t what he wants, what’s the point of insulting Malfoy if he can’t understand him –
Malfoy’s eyes widen. He slaps his hand over Harry’s mouth, “Potter, what the hell–”
This fic is in progress updated within 2020. It’s a rewrite of the Harry Potter series where Harry and Draco are soulmates. As you can imagine, that changes some things. I love this so much, I’ve read it like 3 or 4 times now. The characterization is amazing and I love the differences we see. Harry is Indian in this fic and the way it ties in is so good. You really get to see the difference in culture as well between muggleborns and blood traitor families and the purebloods.
You great unfinished symphony (you sent for me) by ketchupcrisp
Rating: E, Word Count: 227,792, Fandom: MCU, Ship: Steve/Tony and also the whole Team
The last thing Steve Rogers ever expected to see on a Wednesday afternoon was his (their) dead submissive tumbling out of a portal and practically into Phil’s lap, very much alive and frantic about Soul Stones and timelines and some other version of the team.
This is an AU but like literally. Tony comes from the universe we know into a D/S universe. The worldbuilding here - again like I think a lot of D/s fics excel at - is so good. It starts with everything a mess and things are intense. There’s multiple POVs which I think is really helpful in a fic like this where the relationships are so tangled.
Born From the Earth by venusm
Rating: E, Word Count: 277,602, Fandom: MCU, Ship: Tony Centric, Steve/Tony
Tony Stark's born an omega in a world where that means he's supposed to follow certain social rules. He becomes Iron Man anyway: Fuck biology.
If only his biology (and the world) would quit fucking him back.
To start off, some warnings: this fic gets a bit messed up. It’s an Omega verse in the worst possible way at certain points. It’s not a fluffy fic. It also doesn’t get that far into the Stony stuff because it’s unfinished. Honestly I’m worried this writer has died and I’ve gone through the comments and looked for them online to see if they’re out there and just not writing but I haven’t found any proof of that. BUT ANYWAYS. This fic is intense but it’s such an interesting take on Omega fics. It gets pretty dark but that darkness is pre-Steve and I’m hopeful that one day it might get finished so I can see where it was going to go.
#written#fic recs#harry potter#teen wolf#spirk#marvel mcu#atla#kingsman#shayalonnie#wordsformurder#mia6363#shanastoryteller#captn-sara-holmes#whisper91#petals42#metisket#lightshadowverisimilitude#waldorph#ketchupcrisp
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unexpected [mark lee]
requested
word count: 2417
genre: like 99.5% fluff, angst if you pull out a microscope (meaning i wouldn’t call it angst)
author’s note: okay, so i was rereading this and it’s kind of a mess. i don’t think it’s my best work 🤧🤧, so i’m sorry. but i hope the anon who requested this likes it. i hope it was enough...
please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!
masterlist (link in bio)
you approached the door cautiously. you could hear your heart beating rapidly at a constant pace, like a personal metronome. hell, you were nervous. you were a dancer for sm entertainment and was just starting out. in fact, your first professional task was just handed to you. nct 127 were in the midst of a comeback. they were still in the beginning stages, so there was still time before everything had to be done. but for the music video, lee mark was set to have a solo scene with a dancer, similar to ten’s solo scene with the dancer in dream in a dream.
you and mark were set to have an intimate duet scene. a new choreography was going to be made just for this scene. you often wondered why mark was chosen for an intimate scene, he was still a little young. although, you were quite young as well. you could only guess that your nerves were working you up.
finally, after staring straight ahead at the door for so long, you brought your hand up and turned the handle. you slowly pushed open the door. your ears caught some talking, and it made you feel tense. you calmed yourself down and hurried inside. there were two other people in the room. they stopped talking and turned to you. they both bowed and smiled. “ah, y/n.” one guy - you assumed was the choreographer because the other guy was a boy and he was definitely mark lee - greeted.
the choreographer knew your name but you’ve never met him. you bowed shyly, flashing a smile. the choreographer laughed, approaching you. “no need to be nervous. this is lee mark. you probably know who he is already.” he laughed.
you blushed slightly when you met mark’s eyes. both you and him were shy, you could see it in his eyes. you approached him and held out your hand. “i’m l/n y/n.”
he nodded. “hi.”
you smiled before stepping away slightly and looking at the choreographer. he seemed very outgoing. “how are you two going to perform and intimate duet if you two can’t even look at each other. we’re going to be spending this next few weeks with each other so it’s best if you young ones get close.”
both you and mark blushed. what you hadn’t noticed was that mark spared a small glance at you. his thoughts swiftly turned into a mess.
you hadn’t expected things to go like this.
“okay, so let’s begin. let me listen to the song and we’ll go from there.”
--
a week went by, after you and mark began working together. you and grew gradually grew comfortable with each other. but it all felt so surreal for you. sure, you trained to be a dancer for a celebrity company. but it was your first job technically. you couldn’t express how happy you were.
“okay, now mark,” the choreographer approached you. “when you face her, for this move, you need to mirror her movement. this move is really fluid. so you face her, you two raise your arms up and then come down.”
working on choreography was slightly hard. it was tedious, all while it was crucial. after the choreographer finished showing mark what to do with you, he played the music, and you and mark took it from the top. the dance wasn’t finished yet, but it was good to practice what you did have. you and mark began to dance, facing the mirror and watching your movements. you and him moved in sync, like you and him were born for this. the mirror part came up, when the music slowed to a calming beat. you and him faced each other. he was taller than you, but it would add to the overall scene. while dancing, you made eye contact with him and began to blush. you were falling for a celebrity, your dance partner.
mark’s expressions when he danced was something you fell for. he was so passionate in dancing and being an idol, you admired him for that. the music kept going after you and him stopped, until the choreographer stopped it. “alright, let’s take a break.” the choreographer smiled at you and mark before leaving the practice room.
you and mark were tired. you and him were breathing heavily. your legs were tired, so you decided to sit down on the floor. as you did so, mark laughed. you looked up at him, seeing him copying your move and sitting next to you. he stretched his legs out and leaned back on his arms. “what?” you asked.
“nothing. it’s not like we have chairs over there or anything.”
you shrugged before laying down on the floor. “oh well.”
mark sighed before looking at you. “i have something kinda personal to tell you.”
you turned your head, before sitting up and facing him. you looked at him. what did he want to share with you? you felt your face heat up, your stomach flipped nervously. “i’m glad that you’re my dance partner.” he admitted.
you blushed, almost at a loss for words. “r-really?”
you looked at mark and noticed the red blush in his cheeks. he nodded and flashed you a smile. you returned the smile, feeling quite accomplished. however, the moment - whatever moment this turned out to be - was interrupted when the choreographer walked back in.
--
another week went by. the dance was so close to being finished. you and mark had been working really hard on it. although, perhaps you and him had been working too hard on it. mark already worked hard enough, being in multiple units and having lots of schedules. you always felt bad, and you begun to worry about him now that you knew him personally.
it was another break time, this time it was supposed to be longer since you and him had been dancing all morning. you and mark both sighed with relief when the choreographer called for a break. “you’re doing great, you guys.” he complimented, before disappearing.
you collapsed onto the ground, rolling onto your stomach. the cold temperature of the floor on your burning skin felt relaxing. and with your muscles relaxing once more, you were thankful for the break. “ah, i’m so tired.” you mumbled.
you heard movement around you. you lifted your head up to see mark laying down next to you. “you know, the floor is comfortable.”
“what did i tell you?” you laughed.
mark turned his head and met your eyes. a moment of silence fell between you two. but it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything. in fact, it was peaceful. mark stared at you, a smile on his face.
you blushed. “why are you smiling like that?”
he looked away, clearing his throat. he sat up again. “no reason.”
you pulled yourself up. your head throbbed slightly as you did so, but perhaps you were just thirsty. you moved next to mark. “come on,” you pushed. “aren’t we friends now?”
mark nodded. “i guess so.”
“then, what’s on your mind?”
you could see how red mark’s cheeks were. you giggled to yourself before touching his cheek with the back of your hand. “yah, are you getting sick?”
mark laughed and pulled your hand away. but in the midst of the teasing, you realized that he had grabbed your hand and hadn’t let go. you blushed madly, staring at the hands in front of you. “m-mark.”
mark looked at you confused before looked down. he saw your hand in his and jumped back. he became a blushing mess. “i’m sorry. i don’t know why i did that.”
you shook your head. “okay, but i didn’t mind.”
mark stopped and stared at you. “you didn’t?”
you blushed and stared at the floor near your lap. you smiled. “no, i-i didn’t. i just wanted to let you know, in case you didn’t mean to do that.”
mark cautiously moved closer to you again, seeming shy. he smiled before carefully reaching for your hand again, this time holding it properly. “this means something.” you mumbled to yourself.
“well duh.” mark laughed.
you looked up, averting your gaze away from the clasped hands. his skin felt warm and soft against yours. you wondered if your hands were clammy or sweaty. but you looked at mark, falling in love with him once more.
“i think, i’m falling in love with you.” you finally told mark.
mark burst out into a laugh.
“what?” you asked, glaring at him. “i’m confessing to you and you laugh?”
he shook his head. “no, the thing is, i think i fell in love with you from the moment you walked into this room, the very first day.”
your eyes widened. “that was weeks ago.”
he nodded.
“and you didn’t say anything then?”
he shrugged. “how was i supposed to know you felt the same? i was shy and a little scared.”
you blushed before looking at him. “are we allowed to be together?”
mark’s smile dropped, but he shrugged. “i don’t know. either way, we can keep it a secret.”
you nodded and smiled. “okay.”
--
so now, you and mark were in a secret relationship. only you and him knew about it, of course. you loved him, but you were scared that if anyone found out about you and him, especially the agency and the fans, then you would have ruined mark’s career.
today was the day you and mark were going to be filming the music video scene. you and mark had prepared for this for weeks. although, now the pressure was high. one mistake and everything had to be reset.
you and mark were in clothes that fit the music videos scenes. you were nervous because now you were going to be filmed. your face was going to be scene by the world. you gulped hard as your hair and makeup was getting done. you sat in your chair almost lifelessly.
finally the staff were done and they left you alone for a bit. you sighed as you slid off the chair and towards the door. but as you were about to leave the room, you heard your name. you peered outside the room to see mark making his way to your room. you stared at him. “what?”
he walking into your room and pulled you away from the door. he smiled at you, “are you ready?” he asked.
you shrugged. “i’m trying to be.”
suddenly, mark kissed your cheek. you blushed, and stared at him in surprise. he grinned proudly. “that’s for good luck.”
“what if someone saw us?”
“the stylists are focusing on the other members right now. don’t worry.”
you glared at him before looking down at your feet. mark grabbed your hand. “you’re going to do great, y/n. trust me.”
you smiled. “i hope so.”
mark smiled, swing your clasped hands in front of you. you looked up at him, a thought coming into your head. you blushed madly before pushing yourself up. you pecked his lips, before disappearing out of the room, leaving mark by himself. you giggled before maintaining a professional posture and look. no one saw, and no one needed to be suspicious.
you and mark joined up in front of the cameras and music began to play. something had changed in the mood between you and mark. a new feeling was felt between you two. sure, the duet was already supposed to be intimate, but now it felt real. no one knew a thing. it looked like you and him were just dancing intimately, but really, you and mark were in love. it made the scene eve more real. after the choreography was finished, a director yelled cut. it was a success. you and mark felt proud.
-- epilogue --
you and mark sat in his bedroom at the dorm. you sat on his bed while he sat on the floor, your laptop in front of him. “ready?” he asked.
you nodded and leaned forward. mark hit the spacebar and the music video began to play. it was midnight, and the music video had just been released. you and mark watched patiently. you got to watch him dance with the rest of the members. you fangirled slightly, as you liked the song (despite having listened to it for the sake of your and mark’s dance).
finally, the scene you and mark played on the screen. you squealed and felt your cheeks heat up. mark laughed, his hands clapping. the scene made you and mark cringe slightly. but after watching the music video, you commanded, “wait, scroll down for the comments.”
mark did and picked up the laptop, setting it on his lap so that you could see. he read, “‘who is that girl in the video?’ ‘can she be my bias?’ ‘ooh, she’s so pretty…’” you blushed as that comments. you didn’t think they’d notice you much as you didn’t have a big role. but as mark scrolled some more, he came across a particular comment, “‘you know, her and mark look cute together. i wonder who she is’.”
“oof.”
mark laughed. “well, there aren’t any negative comments.”
“still, no one should know.” you replied.
mark shrugged. “the members know.”
you sighed. “well yeah. or else you’d need a hella good reason as to why i was coming over constantly.”
mark shut the laptop and turned around on the floor, looking up at you. “i’m glad you were chosen to be my dance partner.”
you blushed. “you already told me this, mark.”
“i know, but i really mean it. look at what happened between us.”
you looked at him. “yes, i do see that. but, i don’t get what you’re saying.”
mark sighed. “i’m trying to say...something…” his cheeks heated up.
you laughed, “what?”
“i’m trying to say that...i-i-i l-love you.” he stuttered out.
you blushed and stared at him, almost zoning out. mark stared at you, waving a hand in front of your face. “are you okay?”
you gradually began to smile, “ah, you’re so cute.”
mark rolled his eyes and opened the laptop again, messing around on it now. “mark, i’m sorry.” you laughed. “i love you too.”
mark laughed before turning around again. he moved the laptop off of him and stood up. he blushed before pecking your lips, catching you off guard. then he ran out of the room, declaring that he was getting food. honestly, you did not expect that things to turn out this way.
#nct#nct u#nct 127#nct mark#lee minhyung#lee mark#mark#nct one shot#nct scenario#nct imagine#nct fluff#mark one shot#kpop#neo culture technology#mark lee
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[ficlet] #7 Altonian Distractions (Jack/Julian, Jadzia)
So going off this post I decided to go ahead with the next drabble/ficlet series.
Check the tag “the new jj frontier” for all of these. I’m aiming to go strictly chronologically and will add links to all the parts so it’s easier to keep track and reread or catch up. #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6
Summary: Jack and Julian grew up together in the Institute, fell in love, and got married. As part of an experimental program Julian [a success story!] was allowed to join Starfleet and was assigned as CMO of Deep Space Nine as a test run along with his husband Jack (who’s still struggling to find his place). This is their story.
In this installment, Julian encounters Jadzia in the holosuites while looking for Jack
Pairing: Jack/Julian though there will be G/B/J in some fashion
Warnings: nothing major for this part but a minor warning for ableism on Julian’s part which will be heavier in some parts and a note that they do have a semi open relationship with Jack being gray ace
Notes: In addition to retelling the series, I also wanted to explore Jack and Julian’s relationship as it changes. I like seeing how old expectations and habits can grow stronger through change and conflict. Jack in this story does still have a lot more issues than Julian, and I wanted to explore Jack coming into his own more as an individual instead of just the “Julian’s husband”/dependent role where he starts.
He doesn’t know why he thought he’d find Jack in the Holosuites when that would mean going through the Crowds as Julian is used to him saying while making a face and biting a finger. But he doesn’t find him, instead seeing the lovely Jadzia Dax sitting there silently in concentration with a fascinating array of lights. No, definitely not Jack (and despite Jack saying that he didn’t think Julian had a chance), Julian can’t help a bit of a wistful stare. It’s what Jack would call a Bad idea to get involved with her or anyone else right now as much as Julian has felt that… itch. Jack hasn’t given him any indication since they’ve settled in of any of his periodic “heats” as Julian calls them, and Jack says that it doesn’t matter and that he doesn’t understand why he has to be aroused for them to be intimate but…
“Do you need me, Julian?”
He nearly jumps, Jadzia’s mellifluous voice interrupting those thoughts. God, she’s beautiful but Julian is sure that Jack is having trouble adjusting as little as he’s seen him lately and so he’s been trying to put Jack as the center of his focus. Jack says that he isn’t having problems and that he’s Busy, and Julian would be hard pressed to find a time when Jack has ever lied to him. Jack will either tell him with a huff or a snap that it’s none of his business but he’d never actually lie about it… right? Ah, there go his thoughts again! A beautiful woman in front of him and all he can do is worry about his husband. Julian sighs. Maybe they should’ve asked for someone to come along for support after all.
“Sorry no, I was looking for Jack. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“I’m afraid not, but I’m sure he’s fine. He’s been helping with a lot of the construction projects and I think he might have been talking to Mrs O’Brien earlier… I don’t think Chief O’Brien took too well to that,” she adds with a mischievous smile “I think he might’ve said something about the both of you being two genetically engineered predators during the last discussion I saw in Quark’s”. Oh God, that means that bit of gossip had gotten around the station then. Julian groans.
“I wasn’t coming on to him,” he says into his hands miserably. It was nothing but a misunderstanding when the Chief had marveled that he and Julian had been married nearly ten years at such a young age without “playing the field” and Julian might have stupidly answered honestly that they weren’t sexually exclusive.
He absolutely did not say it with a come hither smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows the way Jack relayed to him later when they were eating dinner.
“Not your type?” she offers with such a lovely smile, surely Jack could’ve been mistaken about her level of interest? Ah, right, Jack.
“Not exactly,” Julian says with a sigh and then finds himself curious about the program. When Jadzia explains that it’s a puzzle that responds to theta waves that she’s been working on the last hundred and forty years he immediately think that he needs to show it to Jack. “He loves puzzles,” Julian explains with a wistful smile as he returns to the puzzle of his husband’s whereabouts. He’s almost afraid that Jack has created an entire secondary network of secret tunnels around the station that’s waiting to be discovered. He’d created an “invisibility cloak” the first year they were at The Academy so he could walk around shift phases, avoiding people and-
“I know you’re worried about him, Julian, but they wouldn’t have let you both come here if you weren’t ready.”
“It’s just that… Jack has… issues,” Julian says, having given the same circumspect speech at least several dozen times since their arrival.
“And Chief O’Brien has already made the adjustments to the light spectrum and I’m sure I saw Jack wearing the inserts which filter out a lot of the machine noise.”
“I know I know but it’s more than lights and noise it’s a lot of sensory things, processing things and he pushes himself and he gets... excitable and-”
“You know what I think would help you relax?” Jadzia says suddenly. “I’m going to release it to you. If anything will help a busy mind, it’s meditation.”
“I know how to meditate,” Julian protests as she goes to leave.
“Then you shouldn’t have any problems, should you?”
“I-” Well, what can he really say to that and maybe… maybe he is worrying too much but-
“Good. Computer, transfer control to second player.” Julian doesn’t know why but he holds his breath and the thing shatters in an instant. He sees her raise an eyebrow and sighs. Alright, so perhaps he could use the time to center himself and settle. “I need to meet the Commander but if I see Jack, I promise, I’ll let you no your looking for him.”
He manages a weak smile as she leaves, thinking maybe he does just need to get back on his game.
“Computer. Reset.”
#star trek ds9#ds9 jack#julian bashir#jack/julian#jadzia dax#the new jj frontier#au#fanfic#cyrelia-j
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