#<- prev tag from my prev post which Still Stands...

[obscurecrows]

washing spiral...

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D 

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

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YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board. 

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier. 

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.” 

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk. 

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him. 

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness. 

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?” 

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails. 

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard. 

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.” 

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do. 

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same. 

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato. 

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.” 

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.” 

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond. 

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly. 

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.” 

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous. 

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good. 

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly. 

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him. 

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door. 

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you. 

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there. 

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city. 

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good. 

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade. 

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked. 

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed! 

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible. 

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem. 

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside. 

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from. 

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse. 

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand. 

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was. 

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something. 

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang. 

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm. 

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space. 

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath. 

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[smellrain]

in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?

tags: written, mention of use of alcohol, slight angst. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist) <prev. part: prologue I next part: ch. 2>

notes: [4.3k] First of all: thank you for your kind words after the prologue yesterday! Very happy that so many of you liked it. There is an analysis post about this chapter here that you might want to check out after! I hope you enjoy :) & come tell me how you liked it!!!

It had been a long day at work for you. The data your boss had assigned you had taken you a lot longer to work on than you’d expected, which meant that you actually, genuinely missed your last lecture of the day. You had texted a barely-even-friend that attended the same elective about her notes but you hadn't gotten a text back so far. 

Standing in front of your door now, you leaned the crown of your head against the outside of it and took a deep breath in. You had missed the key hole not once but twice now and the anger that welled up inside of you was completely unwarranted, so you knew you needed to mentally take at least one step back. 

Four seconds in, seven hold, eight out. In and out. You blinked once and the dark of the wood was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Still, unlocked the door, this time succeeding on the first try. 

The hallway was quiet, but you had expected as much. One of your flatmates had a nightshift at the clinic she was working at while the other was sleeping over at her boyfriends. The blissful silence you had looked forward to this morning seemed suffocating now. 

It didn’t matter. It was fine like this, you were fine.

After turning on the kitchen light, you walked to your room, put down your bag and fell down onto your bed, face first. The scratchy fabric of your bedcover was not nearly as nice as the sheets you had dreamed of all day long. 

For a while you let your eyes fall closed, not asleep, but resting nonetheless. You just wanted to rinse the day off of you, but you were too hungry to even think about showering. 

With a groan you peeled yourself off your bed, sat at the edge of your mattress while an inexplicable urge to cry welled up inside of you. Your day had been really shitty and your were really, really hungry.

But you got up anyway and walked towards the light in the kitchen that shone through through the space of the door to your room.

The music you’d put on in the background helped but it didn’t quite scratch that itch for conversation, for company. When you saw your phone light up from where you had left it on the counter, you hoped it might be the classmate you had texted. 

You rinsed off your hands to see who had messaged you. 

Jack (worst Hughes brother): hey what r you doing tn? You: currently making dinner why what did you do what do you need Jack (worst Hughes brother): nothing  wait why did you assume i did/need sth anyways: can i come over soon?

The shower. You still had to shower, but soon for Jack usually meant at least half an hour. It  should be enough time and besides it was just Jack, no reason to put in more effort than necessary. 

You: because you always text me when you need my help sure, I might be eating by then, have you eaten? Jack (worst Hughes brother): I did like 5min ago wait no ignore that, you’re telling me I could have had some of yours??? jkjk see you soon

You liked the last message and turned the heat off your stove. Shower first, you reminded yourself, even as you mourned the loss of the start of your dinner that you had been frying on the stove. 

When he knocked at your door you were still sitting at the small kitchen table that could barely seat two people. “It’s open,” you said, loudly. 

From the sounds you could hear him open and close the door, take off his shoes and leave his bag in the hallway. When he finally came into your view, you couldn’t help but smile. Strange how that worked, considering you had almost cried half an hour ago. Food really worked miracles sometimes. But then again he had always had that kind of effect on you, making you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s not very safe of you,” he had said but he was already smiling, “having your door unlocked.”

“Hey you, fancy seeing you here.”

There was a warm feeling curling itself around your ribcage at the look at him, “hey yourself. I left it open because I knew you were coming over, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “did you watch the game yesterday?”

“‘Course I did,” you said, eyes following him as he took a glass from the cabinets and filled it up. There was something intimate about that, the ease he carried himself with, him knowing where to find your glassware and feeling comfortable enough to do so while carrying on with the conversation. 

There was something in you that ached at the feeling, at having someone that comes home to you. At having someone that just feels that comfortable with you, that you live your life alongside with. 

It’s not like you were lonely, you had wonderful flatmates and good friends, but there was just something different about this feeling, about this longing. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, inexplicable as always.

“Good, otherwise I would have felt stupid after my goal.”

You had seen the new ritual he did sometimes that he had been asked about by the media sometimes. He had done it a few times now, more often over this past year. He was approached by his teammates first, but then he was still for a bit, putting his hand on his chest and raising it up after, usually waving once. The warmth that had seeped into your bones crept up to your face, “you did that for me?”

The one time he talked to an interviewer about it, he had said it was a new good luck charm he was trying out.

Because of the small table the two of you sat close and his knee kept bumping into yours, but you hardly paid it any mind. It was comforting, having him here, this close in the low light of the kitchen, cradling one of your glasses in his hands. 

Admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Yeah, of course, had to show my appreciation for my number one fan somehow.”

You laughed a little, “you are such an idiot.”

The smile he gave you in return crinkled up the skin at the corner of his eyes and you wanted to trace that fold with your thumb. What were you even thinking? “I know.”

So you just swatted his shoulder and got up to wash your dish. “Did you guys go out and celebrate?”

Jack turned in his seat, his body facing your back from where he was still sitting at the table, “yeah. It was a really small bar in the middle of nowhere, Nico said he didn’t want to be recognised, despite the win.”

You hummed in response. The constant scrutiny must have been affecting them all after these past few games. “Cool. Did it actually work or,” you trailed off, not really sure how to finish your question. 

“Sort of, I mean we took a few pictures when we came in but it was a lot better than usual.”

“I’m glad then,” you said and turned back around to face him, “I’m glad nothing too exciting happened.”

At the word exciting his expression morphed into something odd. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore. 

“You can tell me, you know you can,” you reminded him, now getting closer to him again. You were usually able to get out every last secret of his if you just asked the right questions. 

“I know,” he assured you, now pulling you a little closer by your hip and resting his hand there. He had always been touchy like that, arms slung over your shoulders or around your waist, hands holding your wrist to pull you through crowds, thumbs circling your ankle when you rested your legs in his lap. 

“But it’s really nothing, I just got a little drunk,” he assured you, but you didn’t really buy it. 

Still, you had no real reason to press, knowing that it just made him close up further. He would end up telling you, just not now. “Okay.”

The two of you went back to your room soon after, deciding to watch a movie. You didn’t tell him that you were really, genuinely tired, because you knew he could tell. He always could, somehow, even if you yourself weren’t all that aware of it. Funny how that worked.

You sat down first and then patted the spot next to you on the bed, but for a split second you saw him hesitate. That hurt, just a bit because you had thought that the two of you were close enough for it to not matter anymore. 

Still, he leaned against the headboard next to you, his shoulder softly knocking against yours and your worries disappeared at that. You must have imagined it.

“Any preferences?”

“Ratatouille,” you said immediately, not even knowing where that request came from. 

He smiled, “I do like a girl that knows what she wants.”

For some reason you blushed at that, at the barely even there implication of being his. You really were going insane today. “Is that okay for you?”

“Sure,” he said, “let's watch the rat be a better cook than the two of us combined.”

You typed the website and clicked play on your screen and settled your laptop down between the two of you, one knee on each side of the bottom of it. 

You were suddenly keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even own a tv, that you were watching a movie from your laptop when he could be at home, watching it on a screen that was at least double the size of this.

It was a stupid thought, so you brushed it off. He was a professional athlete, you were a college student. There was something fundamentally different about your current lives, as intertwined as they were. 

The movie started soon after, so you pushed all of that to the back of your mind. At first the two of you ran a semi-steady commentary about what was going on but soon after you were both too engrossed in the story to think about anything fun to say. 

When a sharp sound came from the screen you realised that you had your eyes closed. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open again. It must have been for a few minutes, at least because you weren't sure what was going on anymore. 

“Tired?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

You let your forehead fall against his shoulder, this time on purpose. It was a welcome contrast to a few hours ago when you did the same thing against your front door. His shoulder was softer because of his sweatshirt and he smelled nice. Like the shampoo he used, like his laundry detergent. You wondered when that smell had become intrinsically his and not someone else's' like a friend of yours that used the same deodorant. 

You kind of wanted to drown in it, but you held yourself afloat anyway. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. The two of you weren’t like that.

“Had a hard day at work,” you mumbled, a little more tired now than you’d been just moments ago. His presence did that to you, calmed you down when you didn’t even know you were high to begin with. 

He lowered your shoulder a bit which made it more comfortable for you to rest your head on it. “You could have said no, you know that, right?”

But you had wanted to see him once you had seen his message. “I know.”

“Good,” he answered, as if it was as simple as that and remained quiet after that. 

You tried to turn your focus back to the movie, you really did, but before you knew it your eyelids were drooping again. 

Then you were woken up again, this time by Jack. 

The movie must have finished in the meantime because he had moved his arm, closing your laptop. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, trying to form a coherent thought but the only thing on your mind was the warmth of him next to you, the dream that just barely slipped out of your grasp. 

“Sorry,” you said.

He turned to you, surprised. “What for? If anything I should apologise, I kept watching even when you were tired.”

“You know I don't mind that,” you said. “I just wasn’t very good company today. Sorry.”

Jack knocked his shoulder against you with a little more purpose so you  turned to him. “Nope, none of that. I don’t mind, I got to see you, which is all I wanted anyway.”

How could he just say something like that? As if words like these didn’t bore themselves under your skin, living there forever, etching themselves into the white of your bones.

This casually, as if it didn’t just make your heart flutter the same way it did when you were eighteen, back when you had loved him. Still, in your barely illuminated room, late at night you let yourself linger. Let yourself pretend that his words held meaning. 

Let yourself pretend that the two of you were different.

You thought about the thousands of times you must have seen him just like this, in the dark, looking back at you. 

It was a weird memory that came to you, just then.

Back when the two of you had first met you had been crushing hard. It wasn’t really surprising, now looking back. You had never really gotten a lot of attention by boys growing up, so when he went out of his way to talk to you, you really had no choice but to fall for him. 

Liking him had become addicting. 

You could still remember the moment you thought he might like you back and the very same moment you knew it wasn’t, probably ever, going to work out between the two of you.

It was at a party, after you had just graduated. You had just come out of the bathroom, alone because your friend was finally, finally talking to the guy she liked. 

Then you picked up a friend’s voice somewhere down the corner, most likely from the kitchen. “C’mon your turn now. Who are you crushing on,” Aaron had said. They must still be playing a weird mixture of truth or dare and some other game you had already forgotten the name of.

Your mind immediately went to Jack, the way his hand had brushed yours when he had gotten you a drink earlier that night. 

“I don't?” Jack answered, slightly laughing, but there was an air of unease in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice. 

“C’mon, Jack don’t be like that,” someone else interjected, and suddenly you were a lot more invested in the conversation than just a moment ago. It was always like that when it was about him. 

“There are always so many girls throwing themselves at you, surely you want one of them,” you could hear the other guy’s jealousy from miles away but you weren’t sure if the others picked up on it too. 

“I’m serious, I barely have time for my friends already, let alone a girlfriend.” Jack said and there was this tiny spark of hope rising in your chest. Maybe you could change that. Maybe you could be the exception. 

“True,” Aaron agreed calmer than usual. You thought he might be noticing the tension waving off of the other guy. 

“There is no shame in admitting it,” the other guy doubled down, “what about that one girl? Short, brunette, on the track and field club.”

Oh god, he was describing your friend, the one you had just left with her crush. “Nah, wait I think she has a boyfriend, but what about her friend, the one that Kevin hangs out with.”

You. Shit, he was talking about you. Did you really want to hear Jack’s response? What if he said he didn’t like you? But what if he did?

“She is my friend too, you know,” Jack said, “but she is pretty, I guess.”

He guesses? That kind of really stung. You knew that there was nothing all that memorable about you, but it’s not like you were ugly. A thousand different insecurities that you thought you had worked through rose to the surface and you didn’t have the strength to push them back down. 

You had to escape, now, without being noticed and without listening to anything more. Still, your ear couldn’t help but pick up on the rest even as you pushed past that guy that sat behind you in math.

“Jack, don’t be like that,” the other guy insisted, “don’t you want to go up to her and just fuck her? I mean her ass-”

Humiliation. For some reason you felt humiliated and violated. You knew about locker room talk, but you had never wanted to be part of it. Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes and suddenly you could feel every single person that had touched any part of you today, suddenly questioning if it really was accidental. 

You had to get out, now. The static in your ear was loud and the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet seemed to turn it up even more. You had run away, texting the friend you came with some kind of bullshit excuse for leaving. 

The asphalt outside on the sidewalk was cold, but you sat down on it anyway. You just wanted to cry. Everything seemed so overwhelming and important all at once and you had no idea how to deal with all of it. 

Soon you were leaving high school for good, your friends were moving all across the country, you were so fucking lonely and the guy you had been crushing on for a better part of a year didn’t even think that you were worthy to look at. 

You drew your legs closer to your body and folded yourself up as much as possible. Growing up seemed scary all of a sudden. There was that one Lorde lyric that said that too, that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Suddenly people were streaming out of the house, all at once. You wiped your tears, looking up at what was happening. In the stream of people you couldn’t make out any of your friends.

Then you heard your name being called. It was Kevin, still standing at his door. He held Jack at the others shirt collar, as if he was holding up a particularly unruly cat that had gotten in trouble again. 

Your eyes must not have been red because when you came closer neither boy commented on it. “Get him home,” Kevin said and dumped a heap of Jack right in front of you. 

Jack glared back at where Kevin disappeared back into the house, eyes murderous. You had never really seen him act like that, especially to a friend. But then again how well did you really know him?

A beat of silence. You really wondered what on earth had happened for the party to just end. You shifted your weight on your feet. “Do you have a car?” you asked eventually. 

Jack brushed past you, “yeah. I’ll drive you home, didn’t drink anything.”

You followed him, but on the short walk back to his car neither of you said anything. 

The stereo remained off all the way back to your place. After you had stopped looking at him to try and figure out what had him in this bad of a mood, you looked outside. The neighbourhood was so familiar, and the horribly sad feeling from earlier came up again. 

You really needed some kind of distraction. “Thank you for driving me home.”

For a second he remained quiet and you really thought you were going to be ignored. He had always had a bit of a dramatic streak at times. “Of course.”

His expression remained scarily blank. “Can I ask what happened with Kevin?”

“Nothing,” he said, his gaze staring firmly ahead. Then, “I don’t like his friends.”

What kind of response was that? “Okay,” you tried, carefully, “then why did you come?”

“I didn’t know I didn’t like them before tonight,” he said. 

Then you looked at the way his hands were gripping the wheel, specifically at his knuckles. Wait- “did you punch one of them?”

He laughed, and the sound bounced off the small enclosure and some kind of happy feeling made your heart swell, even though you had been apprehensive about him just moments ago.

It was a lot longer than your comment had warranted. You really were a bit concerned about him. Should he be driving if he acted like this? “I might have.”

Before you could ask why, because you had never seen him actually punch anyone, he continued, “in my defense, he started it.”

“That’s a shitty defense,” you said, “that just means you have to be the one to take a step back first.”

He only shook his head in response but you were happy he was back to acting like that Jack you knew. “You would have punched him too, I just know it.”

“Sure,” you replied. You had never punched a person because you didn’t like them and you didn’t think you’d start anytime soon. 

“Trust me, you would have,” he said and left it at that. 

The two of you arrived at your place soon after, so you thanked him and left. 

The rest of the summer between highschool and college was spent getting over him, which you eventually succeeded at when he introduced his now ex-girlfriend to you and your friends. 

In college you went out on a few dates, but none of them ended up going anywhere. That was fine to you, because it just meant that you were prioritising other things now, like your studies and your friends. 

There wasn’t even anything all that similar between that memory and your current situation, but you drew the comparison anyway. His jaw was more refined now, his hair longer and his eyes seemed different now, a bit more mature maybe. Or maybe just a bit more tired. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

It must have been a bit strange, you just looking at him. “You,” you replied honestly. “Do you remember that one party, way back, after high school where you punched someone?”

He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, his throat exposed. Your gaze lingered there for a bit before returning to his face. Some kind of feeling almost bubbled to the surface at the sound and the matching sight.

“I do.”

“I never actually figured why you did that.” When his gaze remained firmly on your ceiling, you continued, “I feel like now enough time has passed for you to admit why.”

He smiled a bit. “There was this other guy, right? The one I punched, I mean.”

You nodded. 

“He was being a real dick about one of my friends, and when he didn’t stop talking about her I just kinda wanted him to shut up. Moved before thinking about it.”

“Asshole,” you commented, not about Jack. 

“Right?” he turned his head so that he looked back down to you, “after that one punch I came back to myself but before I knew it Kevin had dragged me out by my collar, shouting that everyone had to go.”

“He must have wanted to avoid a full on fight,” you said. 

“For sure, can’t even blame him.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes he said, “but it felt really good to finally shut him up.”

You laughed, thinking that the entire situation was a lot more dramatic than it really had any reason to be. The laugh turned to a yawn by the end. 

“I should leave,” he said but you had the weird urge to ask him to stay. 

“Sorry, I’m a lot more tired than I thought,” you said instead.

“Don’t apologise for that,” he said, getting up. He ended up offering you a hand to help you get up as well even though you really didn't need it. You took it anyway. 

He picked up the bag that he had left at the door, opened it and turned to you. “I had fun.”

You smiled, “me too.”

“Good,” he offered you a smile in return. You saw his hand reach out and stop for just a second, but before you could ask him about it, he held it against your temple and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead. He lingered in your orbit for a bit longer than the duration of the kiss, just hovering above you. 

“See you soon,” he said, waving, and you replied the same. Then you closed your door and locked it. 

You didn’t need to hold your hand against your cheek to feel it burn. What was that? He had never done that before. He had never done anything like that before, ever.

You stumbled to your bathroom, and went through the motions of brushing your teeth and going on the toilet. When you finally crawled under your sheets, you let yourself sink down into them. 

Still, you were too tired to properly dissect the entire interaction so instead you closed your eyes. You drifted to sleep, your mind focusing on the tips of his ears that had seemed a bit flushed when he closed the door behind himself. 

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @hughescomplex @lupinslibraries @megaluke @cixrosie (send me an ask to be added!)

[amorchai]

hi! will you be posting your Draco fanfics again soon? When Harry Lost Her was literally my favorite read, I’m sad I can’t come back to it :(

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

this is a repost from my old account ( prev. 1,024 notes. )

pairing(s): draco malfoy x reader

summary: after harry potter realises you are in love with draco, he has to watch the relationship blossom.

word count: 2893

warnings/tags: gn!reader, a lot of angst, slight suggestive tones but it's a sfw writing it doesn't indicate anything sexual, confrontation, harry's perspective.

additional notes: the name needed a rebrand and the plot a little bit but i hope you still enjoy it like the last one!

it had been two months.

two months since harry broke up with you. however, to him, it felt you had ended it long before then. in the beginning, you were very happy together, you were the sweetest and funniest person harry had ever met, and still were. you had gone out for over a year, and were content until harry very slowly started to see you fall out of love with him.

not only could you not tell your own misfortune of your relationship at the start yourself, but harry also couldn't help but hold onto you like a lifeline, unwilling to let you go.

draco malfoy, a boy you would constantly bicker towards. a person harry could now see was something more with you than he could’ve anticipated. you were complete opposites from each other. you were a hufflepuff with a kind and soft manner and were dating harry potter – draco’s known nemesis – much different to the slytherin's dark and closed off demeanour along with his hatred for potter.

but harry then noticed how light-hearted it really was, draco didn't go too deep with the insults towards you, and harry would be stupid to not see the certain tension between the two, that being the unspoken feelings that he was sure you were denying you felt just as much as draco was.

harry watched as the relationship between you and draco became much more friendly and companionable, he would see you together more and more, much to harry’s dismay.

the slytherin boy practically flaunted to harry the fact he became too friendly with you, raising his eyebrows in a chaff manner when harry would come to see you in the library where you had told him you were studying. his eyes glued to draco's arm that lay on the back of your seat, a smirk played on the blonde's face upon seeing the shocked look in his enemy's expression.

or the times the victorious look on his face glowed after harry would call you over to the seat he saved for you at lunchtime, to which you would say ‘i need to tell draco something,’ and sit beside him instead. the remainder of lunch harry would have to listen to the very audible laughter emitting from both parties as you converse.

when harry had his nightmares or anxious thoughts he would leave his sweaty bed in the dark of the night and take a walk around the grounds of the school. some nights too anxious he would feel the need to bring his cloak to stay hidden and other days needing the fresh air and freedom, therefore ensuring he isn't caught by teachers or prefects. one specific prefect being draco malfoy, he couldn't risk the mockery and punishment.

so almost two months ago, when he turned the corner to the library to see you and draco walking out together in a deep conversation, harry has reached his breaking point. he watched as draco said goodbye, leaving your side as he walked back to the dungeons. you turned the other way to see your boyfriend standing there.

you smiled innocently at him, which set harry’s teeth on edge, "harry! what are doing here? did you have another bad dream?" you ask, walking over to him and his stern expression. he didn't answer. when you placed your hand on his forearm to balance while you leant on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, harry took a step backwards and out your grip.

you looked befuddled from the gryffindor's actions, resting back on the balls of your feet, arms fallen to your sides.

"i can't do this anymore," he finally spoke, his tone spat at you while his hands sat in his pyjama bottom's pockets, almost tearing a hole in them from the tight grip. the second the words left his mouth, harry turned to walk back to his dorm. however, you followed beside him, "what do you mean, harry? you can't say that and then walk away, please." he ignored your question as he continued himself, "why were you with him?", "you mean draco?", "he's insufferable,” harry snaps, "he's my friend."

"i think it's a little more than that." harry's words cause you to gasp quietly, "do you think i would cheat on you?" you asked, shocked, to which the boy shrugged. "i would never cheat on you," "so you love me then, do you?" his question hit you like a ton of bricks all at once, footsteps freezing against the wood.

harry turns his body to face you, awaiting the answer. you sigh, dropping your head and covering your eyes, your sad statement came out almost silent, "i'm sorry, harry." you weren’t able to look him in the eye, finally coming to the realisation that you, in fact, in love with someone else, the boy you merely left a minute ago. "and you love him?", "...i think so" that was enough for harry to hear as he left you in the hallway, returning to his dorm, broken.

now as harry sat at lunch, months after, ron and hermione were squabbling in front of him but their voices fade in the background while his eyes stare beyond his friend's shoulders and to the hufflepuff that sat at the slytherin table. draco had the biggest grin on his face as he leaned down to your ear, whispering words that only you could hear. your laughter evident to the entire hall as your hand sits on his chest to contain yourself. draco’s grey eyes gleaming at the pure happiness you emit.

however, your laughter seizes as you and your ex-boyfriend make eye contact. harry's glare as evident as the fear in yours. you slowly drops your smile along with your hand on draco's chest to fall in his lap. he follows your gaze at the changed behaviour, his small smile also leaving his lips as it turns into a scowl. you smile lightly at draco, saying something to him as he nods in understanding. then, harry watches you stand up before making your way over.

"hi harry," you starts, both his friends stop arguing abruptly as they now listen to you speak, your hands fidget in front of you, standing beside a scowling harry. "can i speak to you?" you ask and he grumbles while nodding, lifting the goblet filled with water to his mouth, grumbling into the metal, "i'm not moving."  you kindly smiles at ron and hermione before sitting down, hands land to the hem of your shirt to tug anxiously.

"harry, i just want to apologise, i know you're upset with me and i'm sorry. i know i've done wrong. you deserve better than how i treated you, and i believe it wasn't fair. i just hope one day you can forgive me and we can be civil again."

harry doesn't speak at first but stares at the table in front of him before finally opting to retort, "so you're with him now?", "i don't want to talk about him. i just want you to know i did love you, and you were a good boyfriend." although that was true, harry could tell you were holding back from being completely honest, probably having your own complaints about harry’s character within the relationship. "that helps, thanks," says harry, sarcastically.

as if on cue, the bell begins to chime, indicating the start of the next classes. you look defeated, a small sigh leaving your lips, turning to who you used to call your close friends. you smile at each other as if now simply acquaintances, ron and hermione greeting you sadly.

standing from the seat, harry watches as you shrug at draco who stands at the far end of the table now waiting on you, both bags over his shoulder, shaking his head in reply with his hand extended for you to take. fingers intertwine as you begin to engage in conversation. the frown draco sends back to the brunette boy once more indicating exactly what you were talking about.

the following week, harry awoke from a terrible dream, sweat covering his forehead and dampening his t-shirt. the sound of dean's heavy grumbling mixed with ron's loud snoring causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand in pure frustration.

harry changes into a new t-shirt before adding his slippers and jumper, walking himself out of the dorms and down the staircases. he makes it all the way to the first-floor corridors, looking out the massive, gaped openings overlooking the owlery, he stared outside out as the moon lights the corridor, a strong gust of wind hitting his jumper as his hands rest calmly on the cold stone colonnades.

his relaxed trance is broken by the sudden patter of heavy footsteps sprinting around the right side of the courtyard hall. goosebumps arise in his skin at the worry of being caught and as he begins to walk towards the left side, he saw who it was. draco and you, holding hands and peering around the corner, causing harry to hide himself behind the wall.

he can hear the sound of draco quietly whispering to be quiet while you can't help but giggle at the nightly antics. you would never break a rule when you went out with harry, constantly telling him you didn't want to get into trouble and it didn't seem fun. however, your laughter with draco indicated your views had long changed since you started dating the slytherin instead.

harry looks over the wall to see you both now standing towards each other and he can't help but step out to get a better view, and since he wasn't thinking straight from the rage in his veins, harry thought he could maybe even tell you off.

"i'm just saying, the kitchen is right next to the hufflepuff common room. if you told me, i would've gotten the food on the way to meet you this way, it would've been easier," you spoke, draco squeezing your hand in his.

"ah yes, easier it may have been but it's more fun this way. plus who am i to let my love carry all the food around while i wait in the library?" my love. harry thinks he may be sick. "you know i could carry it all myself?", "i don't know, darling, you're hands are pretty small," he teases after kissing the back of your hands before leaning his head down. you automatically lean on the toes of your feet, draco capturing your lips into a deep kiss. his fingers leave from grasping your hands to intertwine them together firmly, fingers fidget as your lips move desperately against each other.

harry feels close to his previous nightmarish, spine-chilling state as he watches who he once dated locking lips with the person he hated the most.

draco begins to walk you back against the wall, hands leaving your to settle atop your hips. just as your fingers tangle in his hair and a small grunt emits from the boy's mouth, you’re drawn from the daydream-like haze draco had pulled you into and laugh against his lips while sliding your hands to push him back lightly, "we're not making out here.”

all harry feels is horror. the slytherin boy leans down to give you a much gentler kiss before nodding at you, "i'll meet you in the library, i won't be long, my darling." even in the middle of the night and from a distance, harry can see the deep blush arise at the skin of his cheekbones as you lean up to plant a quick kiss on the pale boy's cheek before walking off in the direction you plan to meet.

harry watches as draco stares at your disappearing figure, a small and unfamiliar smile ghosting his lips as he turns towards the place he was heading to instead come face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see. draco freezes in his footsteps and inhales a sharp breath, his knuckles cracking from his tightened fists as he dismisses harry, walking past him and towards the entrance hall to get to the kitchens. the gryffindor following swiftly behind. "what? nothing to say, malfoy?" he taunts, the flurry of confidence stemming as the other boy clenches his jaw trying to hold his reaction, "no. i don't," is all draco replies.

"well, you must feel pretty good about yourself," harry continues, his face leaning towards the slytherin's side as they walk side-by-side, harry trying to wind draco up as much as he can, desperate for some sort of response but draco just continues walking.

"you must feel damn proud of yourself that you won." harry's comments were flying straight to where draco's anger boiled but the boy was refusing to react harshly to the chosen one for once, "look no one is around, you can just hit me if i'm annoying you and no one will see.”

draco stops in his steps to harshly turn around to the boy, "no, i'm not going to hit you!", "why not? are you a coward?", "no, because y/n will think i started it." he sighs before walking down the length of the great hall tables and towards the door in the back.

"so y/n has you on a leash now?", "i'm not engaging in your pathetic attempt for me to get into trouble." draco seethes, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as harry continues, "y/n has you behaving like a gentleman now? not even going to argue the person you hate the most?", "leave y/n out of this," draco's voice was quiet but very stern at the mention of your name falling from harry's filthy lips for the second time already.

harry laughs sarcastically, stepping back down in attempt to leave the hall. "pitiful," is the last thing the gryffindor speaks before leaving the hall and back to his dorms, ignoring the urge to go to the library and argue with the person he still loves, for daring to leave him for draco.

it didn't take harry long to realise that the library had become a space the couple overtook. during the day when hermione would drag him and ron there to collect her new books and return old ones, almost every time he would see you both huddled in a corner. sometimes in silence studying comfortably together, however, mostly laughing and sneaking in some kisses as you forget the work in front of each other. during the night he would always see you roaming the corridors, hand in draco’s, mostly in direction to and from the library. harry’s safe and calming walks becoming much more stressful in thought of seeing you together.

horror. a word harry kept relating to this whole scenario. it completely rose in harry's veins when he breaks from his reverie one night, realising that he was in the corridor leading to the room filled with books.

before he could turn and leave the way he came, he heard the all-too-familiar bound of footsteps as the couple left the room, uncaring if anyone was standing outside. harry had his invisibility cloak on much more often since he always ran into you so each of you had no idea your former boyfriend could see.

the terror harry felt only increased at the sight of you, draco’s lips connecting to your neck as you begin to laugh tiredly with your clear kiss-stricken lips. "my salazar, i love you and your laugh." harry hears draco mumble, his mouth still working against your neck gently, and you reply with an enthusiastic and content, "i love you," which tears harry in two. you used to say that to him, and now draco malfoy was graced with your love instead. he had lost you completely now to draco, and harry now knew this.

your hands unjoin as you move yours to fiddle with his very loose tie, one of his reaching to gently rub over your cheek, draco smirking into your jaw as he feels you shiver at his path of kisses.

draco catches sight of your half-closed eyes and pulls back to peck your lips, palm now flat against your cheek to get a good look at you, “you tired, my love?” you lazily smile up at your boyfriend before nodding.

harry watches as draco kisses your forehead, hand slipping naturally back into yours as if you were made for one another. harry’s heart plummets and jealously fills his head, why was it never like this when you were with him?

“let's get you back to my dorm and you can just rest for a little bit, yeah? no more studying tonight,” draco suggests, turning you both in the direction to the slytherin common room. "yes," is all you can muster, "can we read?" you ask, gleaming up at draco as you begin to walk past cloaked harry and in the directions of the staircase.

“course we can.”

harry had lost you before he even broke up with you, but what shattered his heart was having to watch the person he let go, love another so deeply and further than you ever loved him. in that moment upon seeing you trudge off in plans together, harry made a mental note that he had to try and move on, and stay far away from the library at all costs.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 4.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Still far from home and far from well.

Master List / Prev Chapter

Warning: 18+ (fairly tame chapter, but stands for entire series)

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Tumblr is being weird with links, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Had an extremely rough month really working on a piece about school safety... enough said. And I've been sick. So. Ya'll mean the world, thank you for your continued support!

4.

You’re drowning in a sea of hands.

They push and pull like ocean currents, and you’re as helpless in their merciless grip as a swimmer in a riptide, tumbling so deep you can’t remember which way is up. There’s air, but an arm around your neck presses on your trachea. Suffocating you. No matter how much you claw and wheeze, it only tightens, slow and inextricable. The worst kind of promise building in the pressure.

Thousands of strangers’ fingers paint you with intent, sweaty and slick. Each hand wants something. Maybe they’re working in chorus, or maybe each one is out for itself. It’s impossible to tell by the way they paw, snare, and grab at you. Whatever they want is inside. Deep in your belly or hiding in your spine, some key or secret blunt nails work to pry out. They won’t be satisfied until you’re swallowed, torn apart, and sorted into pieces.

The dark smells like old carpets, bird shit, and rust.

Waves of touch tug you in opposite directions, twisting your arm behind your back and your foot over your head. It’s chaos. And it hurts. But they’re all moving you, hauling you into a hell that sounds like war. You’ve never heard gunfire like this. Only three clean shots from a distant sniper rifle. But the cacophony ricochets with dozens of automatic weapons, and the hands scratch and dig into your skin, greedy for your fear as you sink into the echoes…

And wake with the gunfire still in your ears.

Sharp, jolting breaths lift your shoulder, punching through your chest with a salty aftertaste from the tears and mucus trickling down the back of your throat. Everything else locks in place. Your legs are too achy to move. Your eyelids stick open, drinking in shadows. Lying on your side, you not only hear but feel your pulse beating in your ears, and it takes several minutes of wading through too many confusing sensations before you know where you are and why everything’s stiff and sore.

The room is dark. Only a crack of light spills under the door. It’s proper country dark outside, too, pressing black against the window.

It’s raining.

No gunfire. No danger. It’s only precipitation battering against the glass. You are as safe as you can be, given the situation, and the men downstairs would be shouting and kicking in the door if something had gone wrong. Bullets would pierce the walls, shatter the window.

Even though you know it’s just the weather, you’re half convinced a dozen soldiers have opened fire on the room.

You try waiting it out.

Maybe it will stop or you’ll remember you aren’t afraid of the rain.

But it doesn’t, and you can’t bear it, so you get up and head for the glow behind the door. Hopefully the rain isn’t so loud downstairs.

The hall light bathes the space yellow in a way your shattered internal clock reads as daylight. Open doors to the bathroom and the second bedroom loom dark in contrast, like caves along a hiking trail, and the stairs will challenge you as much as a mountainside when you work up the nerve to descend. First you take time to wipe the salt track off your face with cool tap water. The pillow should keep those secrets. You don’t need to wear the evidence.

The adrenaline rush fucked off some time ago, and even after the nightmare you’re left with nothing but clinging paranoia. That doesn’t make you calm. Your anxiety feels like breath on the back of your neck, or eyes squinting through hidden peepholes, prickling over your skin with the assurance that something, somewhere is off, and you shouldn’t leave yourself exposed.

Logically, the men downstairs are no threat. Quite the opposite. You don’t feel logical. Your collection of hurts urge you to hide under a bed. In a closet. To stay out of sight as you lick your wounds.

The soldiers have your life in their hands, and that requires inordinate amounts of trust. There’s a gap you can’t cross. You’ve known them for a few hours. They killed people, and then they stopped your bleeding and sent you to bed. That’s too much and not enough for friendship.

You’re also, on a much shallower level, wildly aware that you’re the odd one out. The only woman. The only stranger. The only civilian.

It’s like standing in the cafeteria on the first day at a new school and wondering where the hell you’re supposed to sit.

Studiously avoiding your reflection, you leave the bathroom and begin your hike downstairs. Each step is a mile. You count them, congratulating yourself on your progress as you balance with your hand on the wall. In yesterday’s – today’s? – struggle, you used muscle groups you didn’t know you had and used known muscles in new and interesting ways they disapprove of. Everything is a little harder, and every step a little wobbly, and thankfully no one pops around the corner to see your tremorous pace.

Shadow creep over the lower steps where the hall light can’t quite reach, but a bright puddle spills out from the kitchen, and you follow it like a little moth.

Rain patters against the windows here, too, but the drumming on the roof doesn’t reach through the upper floor.

You’ll take it.

The kitchen opens around you as you step through, and your eyes flick up from your feet as a figure moves in your peripheral.

“You’re up.”

It’s the Scot. He’s divested himself of the tac vest, though a handgun peaks out from a holster under his jacket. It’s a good sign that he’s less armed than this morning, though. It gives you hope. A step towards de-escalation and a normal state of being where locked doors mean something and you get to sleep in your own bed.

The kitchen’s a little chilly, and your arms fold of their own volition. You stuff your hands out of sight, hiding your most obvious injury as you wince out a smile and try not to make things awkward.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask if you slept well. You appreciate it. Instead he fills the electric kettle and pops down the tab before even asking, “Tea?”

Since it’s already too late to say no, you nod, taking a seat at the table to spare your shaky fawn legs. “Thanks.”

The clock over the sink reads 9:07, so it hasn’t been dark for long. You’ve slept away the day, and now you have a long night of worry and stilted conversation ahead. What the fuck are you supposed to talk about with these people? Or are you supposed to converse with them at all beyond basic pleasantries?

Tea might make everything better, or the caffeine may make everything just a little worse. A warm drink does sound nice, though.

A heavy jacket still flush with body heat drops over your shoulders, and you freeze like a cat suddenly trapped under a blanket.

You feel your eyes go big and know you’ve made the moment weird as you peer up at the burly Scot. The fabric’s heavier than it looks, and it smells like the man. Something sweet hidden under whiskey and aftershave. The weighted warmth feels like security made cloth, and the comfort tangles with the acidic terror still hissing in your belly.

The man beams. Chortling, clearly delighted with himself, he rearranges the collar to sit right around your neck without pressing on the bruises.

“Dreich weather,” he says, stepping away to throw a tea bag in a chipped white mug. “Need to keep warm.”

Your fingers lift to the worn seems along the zip, pulling it just a little closer, like folding yourself into a cocoon. He’s given you a hug, you realize, without invading your personal space. It’s shockingly considerate, and you swim through treacle-thick thoughts for the right words of thanks, but they roll back down your throat before you can express yourself as you look back up to an eyeful of distraction.

Without the jacket the soldier’s a walking gun show, and you aren’t thinking about the weapon clipped to his belt. His snug, dun t-shirt showcases his broad shoulders and the sculpted trunks he calls arms without clinging to his tapered waist. His golden tan practically shines against the dull cloth and muted colors of the kitchen. Veiled muscles roll along his back as he reaches into an upper cabinet for a couple more mugs, and you flick your eyes down to the places the varnish has cracked off the table so he doesn’t catch you staring.

It's patently unfair that such an attractive man is paying so much attention to you when you’re too sick with shock and fear to do anything about it.

He slides the tea into your line of sight, and manage to mumble, “Thank you,” without imploding, exploding, or falling into a heap of embarrassed chunks.

“Ye’re welcome.”

He’s added sugar. Did you miss him asking how you took your tea? Doesn’t matter.

You only just notice the soft footsteps approaching from the open doorway leading to the living room before a shadow cuts through the yellow kitchen lights to your left. The captain nods down at you as he heads towards the half-steeped cups waiting by the sink, greeting his sergeant with a rumble. With cup in hand, he turns, propping a hip against the counter as he pulls you into a conversation.

“Was plannin’ on sending Gaz to check on you in another hour, make sure you were alright.” He speaks as he sips his tea, leaving his voice a little muffled, indirect in a way that suggests awareness of things better left half-acknowledged.

Taking your cue from the leader, you hide behind your mug.

“No need now.”

The tea’s very nice, actually. The warmth soothes your aching throat and pairs well with the gentle warmth of Soap’s jacket. A hug inside to complement the hug outside.

The captain lifts his eyebrows, pausing between sips. “And are you?”

Despite his careful tone, the question hits with a sharp edge, slicing between the plates of armor you assembled over the bathroom sink before braving the soldiers’ company. Are you alright? You flinch setting down your mug, and the drink sloshes up to the rim. Just shy of a spill.

Washed face of no, you must look awful. Your eyes always go red and puffy after too much crying, and you can’t banish every trace of your little breakdown, no matter how hard you try.

“I thought I’d spare us all the awkwardness of a bunch of soldiers trying to handle a crying woman.” Make it a joke. Make it light. Maybe it will float away and take those probing questions with it. You desperately need a distraction, something to pull the focus off your welfare and back to things these men are equipped to handle.

“What happens now?” you ask.

Soap scoffs into the third cup. “Try not to die.” The captain swats him over the head, grazing the mohawk, and the Scot chokes, spluttering tea out his nose as he hastily adds, “Of boredom.”

“Laswell called while you were asleep. She has things in hand. In another day or two she’ll have enough free resources to help us handle the cell here without drawing the wrong attention. Until then we sit tight.” He smiles with his eyes and the shape of his face. The mustache hides most of his mouth when he angles his head down to meet your eye, but there’s no mistaking his expression. “Keep you safe.”

He’s as bad as subordinate.

The military issue clothes reveal enough of his shape to spark your interest in any other situation, and he moves with confidence you’d like to reach out and taste. Those smiles of his don’t help.

As you sit stewing in your own flatfooted frustration, your stomach decides you haven’t done enough to humiliate yourself and kicks off with a growl.

You press a hand flat to your gut. Soap laughs as your face heats, and if you weren’t on the verge of starving you might’ve sprinted back up the stairs to hide in the room Gaz said is more or less yours.

“How long since you ate?” the captain asks.

Too long ago. This is a military man, though, and they like specifics. You think back, leaping from abduction to fleeing to the club lights and blood. “More than a day. Day and a half, I think.” That sounds right. The last meal you remember is lunch the day prior.

Huffing, the Scot turns back to the cabinets, rustling through a collection of tins and boxes. Nonperishables. Of course. A safehouse wouldn’t stock anything liable to spoil in the months or years between visits. At least you don’t see any MREs lurking in the depths. The past twenty-four hours have seen enough horrors.

Squinting at the expiration date on a can, Soap asks, “How do you feel about beans?”

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 5

Summary: After moving to Jersey City, you meet a Benjamin Miller...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader. And I guess Ben Miller x French fem!Reader 👀

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Let's all pretend this is a world in which there is no such thing as visas... Also, heartfelt apologies to anyone from Jersey City, whose city I'm making up almost entirely, albeit very respectfully. It's the city of Reader's recovery ❤️

This chapter contains a direct nod/reference/homage/straight up plagiarism of one of @frannyzooey genius post that can be found here. I plead guilt. I love her and her brain, your Honour. Kelli, thank you for your help on this chapter. Ily more than words can express 🧡

Word Count: 4.8k.

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Chapter 5: Boy meets girl

There’s a hardware store, not too far from the bookstore where you work, a gigantic, monster of a place whose size fits that of this country. Alleys and alleys of power tools and appliances of all sorts, hammers, screwdrivers, hinges, rivets, nails, screws, bolts, and things you can’t even name in your native language. It’s your third attempt at getting the material you need to hang the black-out curtains you bought three months ago, currently laying in a shopping bag on your living-room floor. None of the four windows in your apartment have blinds, and if it doesn’t matter much in the living-room, you can’t sleep if the bedroom windows are not blacked out. You’ve been waking up at dawn since you moved in, and if it didn’t matter much back in February, it is August now, the summer flew by, and you’re exhausted. And it’s beginning to show… 

Standing in front of neatly displayed rows of… screws? Are these screws? You feel as out of your depth as if you were to perform brain surgery. You curse yourself as your mother’s voice rings in your ears, “Vraiment, tu ne pourrais pas être plus inutile. Écoute, tu n’es pas manuelle, sors de ma cuisine” [“Could you be more useless? You’re not a manual person, just get out of my kitchen”]. 

No, manual, you are not. However, you still need to hang up these damn curtains. And your mother can go grill her ass on smouldering coal because you will. Hang up. These damn. Curtains. 

“You need help with something?”

The loud and booming voice jolts you out of your thoughts. You’re mumbling, your face scrunched up in concentration. It’s a few seconds before you can extract yourself from the memory of your mother’s impersonal kitchen, the smell of chlorine burning your nostrils. The voice belongs to a very tall, very handsome man, standing a few feet behind you on your left. Thirty-five years of being a woman fending for herself in big cities and travelling on your own, distrust is something of a survival instinct. 

“No, I don't”, you shoot back reflexively before catching yourself. “Wait yes, I do, do you work here?” 

You eye him sceptically, scanning him up and down in appraisal with a raised eyebrow. Worn out dirty blue jeans, Metallica T-shirt, shaggy, dark blond hair, he’s not wearing any name tag nor the ugly green vest employees have to sport here. He flashes you a charming smile. Wow. Very charming. Plenty of good teeth. 

“Nope,” he says, obviously not deterred by your suspicious demeanour, “but you look lost and… you’re kinda blocking the view.” His deep voice rumbles in the alley, yet it’s not exactly unpleasant; almost velvety, it resonates in your chest.

“The what?”

“The view. I just need to grab…” he plunges past you and picks up a pack of small metallic whatever-the-hell-they-are, “… these. What are you looking for exactly?”

Interesting. He doesn’t look like he wants to leave. You can ride with that. 

“I’ve got these curtains, or drapes… no, big heavy curtains I need to hang in my flat. I mean apartment. I’ve no idea where to start.”

“Do you have a power drill? Your place, is it drywall or concrete?”

You’re pretty sure you’ve never looked dumber when you blurt out your answer of “Dry…what?”

—

“Please tell me you got his number.”

Rosie doesn’t mean any harm but the implicit allusion still makes you involuntarily wince. You try to cover it up and roll your eyes so hard you can feel your retinal muscles strain. 

“Ah ah,” you answer flatly. “Yes, I got his number, and he’s got mine.”

“And he’s gonna help you with the curtains?”

“With the curtains and something else maybe?”

Rosie’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as she nearly chokes on her rice. 

Tuesday is one of your two days off, and on Tuesdays you share lunch with her near the Jersey City Medical Center, where Rosie works as a nurse in the imaging center. “Work” being an inadequate word to describe her level of  commitment to the job. A few months after moving into your own place, you’ve successfully convinced her to negotiate more day shifts (“It’s ridiculous, Rosie, they’re just using you and you’re letting them. You never get to enjoy them gardens you’re so obnoxious about.”), and you soon instated a weekly date to catch up with each other. As with everything between you and Rosie, a new routine soon felt like an established tradition, and whether she’s working or not, you share lunch, gossip and deep thoughts every Tuesday. Over tacos, more often than not. As a joke (typical of Rosie’s humour) and because of the proximity of a taco place on the hospital’s grounds. Weather permitting, you sit outside. The New York City skyline draws a jagged line against the horizon. You’re fond of this view from Jersey City, different from the one tourists are usually fed through postcards, cheap art, tote bags and what not. You’ve always enjoyed a change of perspective. Across the Hudson bay, midtown Manhattan and its bustling cacophony, and further still, Brooklyn. And Greenpoint. An empty apartment and a bare window.

“What’s his name again?” she asks in between two sips of orange juice. 

“Benjamin. He asked me to call him Benny.”

She groans in approval. 

“You said he was tall?”

“Mmh”, you nod, swallowing your mouthful of nopales taco, “you’d like him, he’s a giant. Nearly two meters tall.” You ignore her clueless shrug, weights and measures a bottomless well of misunderstanding, and carry on with your bulleted list in a clinical tone. “Thick blond hair, on the darker side, rather unkempt, dark blue eyes, or maybe grey, I didn’t look too closely, good shoulders, good teeth, nice voice, what else… he was wearing a band t-shirt, but I can’t remember which one, something metal looking, with a skull on it? That’s a point for him –”

Rosie speeds up her shewing and dabs her mouth with her paper towel; you pause and wait for her intervention. 

“Wait, blond hair blue eyes? You kidding me? I thought we didn’t do those anymore?" 

“Oh trust me, he’s got nothing to do with Éric.”

It’s going to take more than your good word to convince Rosie. 

“How? Elaborate.”

You lower your taco and lean in closer for dramatic effect, so she can take in the mischievous glint in your eyes when you say, conspiratorially, “He’s fucking sexy, Rosie.” 

Her dark eyes grow wider, she folds her hand in mock prayer. 

“Oh my fucking god, tell me you texted him already.”

The levity of the conversation makes you giddy. You feel lightheaded, exchanging knowing looks and giggles over cheap tacos, as you discuss your next possible date with a ridiculously handsome man you met in a ridiculously large hardware store. You can’t help but recall where you were just over a year and a half ago, however hard you try to push back the memory, lest tears come prickling the corners of our eyes. You want to hug Rosie, crash your mouth onto hers, squeeze her tightly against you, so she can never ever doubt your love and gratitude.

“No”, you swallow thickly, “no I didn’t, I’m waiting until tomorrow, you know, the three days rule thingy…”

“Love”, she scoffs, “we live in the time of Tinder, that stupid rule expired like in 1997”.

Rosie treats sex the same way she handles the other aspects of her life: casual efficiency. She did date the birthday boy from her improv class, Kyle, aspiring Broadway actor, blond hair, blue eyes… Invested six years of her life into their relationship, sharing an overpriced apartment in Park Slope complete with succulents and two cats, only for him to break up with her the minute his parents threatened to stop financing his Bohemian Brooklyn lifestyle if he didn’t change at least one parameter of his life. That parameter being his girlfriend. A simple nurse with a crushing student loan, skin at least two shades too dark, the illegitimate daughter of a Colombian single mother, Rosie didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t matter that she put herself through med school or that Dolores was a business owner. She didn’t fit in the picture. There simply was no room for her in this wasp heaven, between Christmases in Aspen and summers in the Hamptons.

She hurt, then, you know she did, the true reason behind the break-up causing a shockwave that reached far beyond the end of a romantic relationship. The following summer, you convinced her to join you in Europe, and together you spent a week in Berlin, exploring the city museums and touristic landmarks by day, getting blackout drunk at night. Rosie being Rosie, she grieved for a while, but all things considered quickly moved on. She has been, ever since, on a strict one-night-stands regimen, enabled by recent technology, enough to sustain her sexual drive but no further injury. 

“Text him now. We do it together. I don’t trust you. But no date on Sunday, we’re going to my mom for chicharron.”

“Rosie, the guy I’d skip your mom’s chicharron for is not fucking born yet.”

Well he is. But you lost that number…

—

On your first date, you meet Benny in a crowded bar downtown. Slightly nervous, he put in an effort: clean hair, clean jeans, clean-shaven. 

Your choice of clothing caused quite the fuss over the meal in Dolores’s living-room, until you brilliantly won the argument. 

“I know what I’m gonna wear: I’m gonna wear that 70’s jeans –” you ignored Rosie’s protests, “the one that I got in your store –” you pointed your fork at Dolores, “that looks two sizes too small, and my T-shirt that says ‘The future is female’. You wanna piece of this sweet ass, you better be a feminist.”

“Shit.” Rosie kept a straight face as she raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty good, actually”. 

The last time you went on a date, Bush was in Office. The year was 2007, and it was with Éric. Yet, you’re strangely relaxed, confident, even. Benny’s the one who asked you out, and you’re here with him; in your mind he’s out of your league, it’s apparent that for some reason, he thinks you’re out of his, so whatever happens next is a bonus. 

The two of you trade the usual information over a pint of beer. Benny likes the great outdoor, live music, running in the morning. He tells you he enjoys singing and that he plays the guitar; you note that he doesn't make it sound like he’s boasting. It’s just one of the things he loves and wants you to know about. You like museums, books, analog photography, but you find several common grounds with food, dogs, and movies. That’s more than you ever shared with Éric. You remain vague as to why you left Paris but ramble on for twenty minutes about your former job, the priceless first editions, the patrimonial treasures, the secret access to the rooftop of the Hôtel de Ville de Paris, until you stop abruptly to apologise for talking too much. Old habits die hard. He asks you to keep talking, says it’s “pretty awesome” when people love what they do so much.

He mentions his previous career in the military but doesn’t elaborate on what he does now. He talks a lot about his older brother, a guy named Will, whom he describes as his role model and the reason he joined the army. He drives a Mustang 1967, something he’s proud of, says it was a lifelong dream he paid for in sweat and blood. He’s touching, like an overgrown kid, when he speaks about his hometown of Somewhere-you-don’t-catch, Colorado. You ask him to repeat the name twice. He thinks your accent is nice and he tells you as much. He’s got good shoulders, and an endearing smile.

His honesty is unsettling, bordering on bluntness. It’s refreshing. What you see is what you get. 

When you get home later that night, you call Rosie and feed her each and every detail. You certainly had a good time, but the giggly conversation with your best friend is priceless. You’ve already agreed to see him again. You’re more carefree than you’ve been in a long while.  

—

The following Sunday, you take him to an obscure cinema to see a black and white Argentinian art-house film with subtitles. You feel bad about this one, but you want to know if you’re losing your time. You’re not. He’s not into it, but for you, he’s willing to be. After the movies, he proposes a drink; neither of you wants the evening to end. 

In the bar, he hardly sits still, avoiding your eyes and rubbing his palms dry on his jeans. His nervousness puzzles you, you thought the date was going fine, maybe you overdid it a little with the movie. Rosie’s going to shred you.

“Look”, he starts, his loud voice startling you, “before we go further, I mean, you know, if you want to, I mean go further, I gotta tell you what I do. For a living.” 

Or maybe you’re going to shred Rosie for pushing you to text him. You nod, indicating you’re listening.

“I’m in the MMA circuit”. 

Your face remains impassive. That doesn’t tell you anything. You wait for him to expand, but he just looks at you, lips sucked in and brows furrowed. It tugs at something inside your chest, you want to reassure him, or at least put him at ease.  

“Ok… MMA is a French insurance company, but I got a notion that’s not what you’re talking about,” you say tentatively.

“No, that’s er… Mixed Martial Arts.”

“Oh, you mean the thing where you wear funny costumes and throw chairs at –”

His face takes on an indignant look and you understand you’ve said something stupid, perhaps even hurtful. But the way he speaks next, sitting up straight in his chair, animated and passionate, is a definite improvement from his anxious behaviour.  

“No! Fuck no! That’s WWE! No, MMA is a real sport, you use techniques from different combat sports, like, from all over the world, it’s based on –”

“Wait”, you interrupt, “you’re telling me you get hit in the face? For a living? Real punches?”

“No,” he scoffs, “‘cause I'm fucking good, but yeah, it happens.”

“I don’t believe you”. You shake your head to emphasise your disbelief. 

“What do you mean, you don’t believe me?” 

“Well, look at your face! You can’t look this pretty and get hit in the grill on a daily basis!”

He relaxes in his chair, flashing you his most charming, mischievous smile. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

You narrow your eyes, seemingly not impressed. 

“Oh come on, you know you are. Can I come to see a fight, one of these days? When’s the next one? I can cheer you on.”

“I don’t know,” he hesitates, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t imagine you in this kinda crowd…”

“Gimme enough alcohol and I’ll mingle in any kind of crowd.” 

Eager to make your point, you down half your beer in two sips, draining the tension from his frame. He looks like himself again. You ask him if there’s good money in it, he shrugs, explains that with his military pension it’s enough, he doesn’t need much. That’s another point for him.

“So that’s not a dealbreaker?” he asks.

“No. A dealbreaker is if you’re a Trump supporter or… or if you think equality is a dirty word… or… You’re not a Trump supporter, are you?”

“Nope.” His lips make a popping sound on the P, and you briefly wonder what they would feel like pressed against yours.

“OK, then. We’re good,” you declare.

You’re good. 

—

Before your third date, Rosie comes over and waltzes into your apartment with a command.

“This time you're wearing a dress.”

You don’t own many, but she digs out a short wrap dress in a dark shade of blue that you bought years ago in Sorrento and haven’t worn since. The kind of outfit you only feel brave enough to wear on a holiday abroad, far from home and your usual self, only to relegate it to the depth of your closet once you come home to your everyday life. It certainly is flattering and, as she declares, it means business, so you comply. 

When you meet Benny outside the dinner, his hungry expression speaks a thousand words. Rosie was right, as always. You share fries and milkshakes, the thing so quintessentially American, you fancy yourself in one of the 80s flicks you grew up watching. The conversation between you is easy. But tonight, you both have something else in mind.  

His house is small and you’ve been to tidier places, but it’s clean and homey. The small living-room is dwarfed by a big, comfortable looking leather couch in a caramel tone. There is no ceiling lamp, the warm light is provided by two disparate table lamps and a floor lamp holding up straight with duct tape. Above the couch, a poster of Twin Peaks, and on the adjacent wall, a large framed print of a colourful landscape, a lake surrounded by rocks and fir trees and on the horizon, a mountain, which you assume to be in Colorado. Acoustic and electric guitars are laid against furniture across the room. There’s a vintage stereo and a record player, no books but neatly stacked rows of vinyls, a big television and, you note with delight, a VCR player.  

“I didn’t think you’d come here tonight,” he apologises, swirling around the place, putting dirty dishes in the sink, picking a T-shirt from the floor, kicking a pair of running shoes near the door. 

Walking over to the shelves to take a peek at the records, your attention is drawn to two framed pictures. In one of them, an official-looking portrait, a young Benjamin stands proudly against a plain blue studio background, looking dashing in a military uniform. His hair is short and a lighter shade of blond, his serious face in contrast with his childlike features. You pick up the other one to study. A little kid with a wild mane of honey blond hair, dressed in a cowboy outfit, is holding a baby in his arms, standing on an outdoor patio. His face is grave, and a golden retriever stands by his side. The colours got saturated by the years, the picture now in shades of orange. 

“My brother and me,” he says, taking the frame from your hands and replacing it face down on the shelf. “You wanna drink something?” he offers, standing so close now, his hooded gaze fixed on your lips. 

You shake your head no. He undoes the knot of your dress, and holds it open, taking in your body, his blue eyes darkened with lust. 

“Fuck, baby, I’ve wanted to do this all night. You’re so beautiful.”

You let him crash his lips onto yours and open up for him, trying to fight back thoughts of the last person to ever call you baby.

— 

After that night, you see each other twice, sometimes three times a week. You meet in bars, at the movies, or directly at his house. It’s three weeks before he asks you to meet Will. You agree without hesitation, you understand that you have to be granted his older brother’s seal of approval before he can commit himself further with you. Will is slightly shorter than his younger brother, strongly built, bulkier. He wears his blond hair short, and his sharp chin is toned down by a neatly trimmed beard. An independent contractor, he's responsible for a support group at the VA and gives regular lectures to new recruits. He’s a quiet man, observant and reserved. To your surprise, the two of you strike an instant friendship. A profound bond that makes Benny suspicious at first, until he realises there’s nothing remotely sexual about it. You recognise something in each other, an original wound, deeply rooted in your childhood, one you two have yet to disclose. You share an interest in books and museums. An art student, he dropped out of college to enrol after 9/11, his little brother just fresh out of high school following suit. Their mother still resents him for it. Strangely enough, Benny never talks about his years in the army. It is Will who provides you with this information. 

It’s another couple of weeks before you introduce him to Rosie. She takes an immediate liking to him. They’re not unlike each other, open, enthusiastic and straightforward. But mostly, she likes him for the way he looks at you, with covetous eyes, for the way he makes you feel worthy of it, for the way he makes you laugh.

Benny runs every morning, cold, rain or hangover be damned. He tirelessly asks you to come with him, you tirelessly send him to hell with a hearty laugh. When you order food, you bet on who will get the most copious dish. You watch marathons of classic horror movies. You spend entire evenings debating which installment of the Alien franchise is the best, and whether The Shining is a Stephen King adaptation or a Kubrick movie.

It’s a longer while until you agree to stay the whole night at his place, always coming up with a good excuse, but after having done it once, you do it more and more often. 

He asks you to come with him and Will to Colorado for Thanksgiving, but you decline, arguing the holiday doesn’t mean anything to you. He’s not deterred, he never is, and asks you again before Christmas. This time, you’re celebrating with Rosie and Dolores. His third attempt is for New Year’s Eve. You loathe what you hardly consider as a holiday, but you don’t find it in you to turn him down, instead telling him you’d love to kick in the new year with him, provided you stay at his place. He surprises you with Irish whiskey and French cheese and the complete collection of The Tales from the Crypt on VHS. It’s by far your best date, although you don’t watch TV for long. As often happens, you end up naked and entangled on the living-room floor. 

Benny likes it rough, and so do you. You’ve had four and a half years of tepid intercourse with Éric’s flaccid dick, rolled in cold sheets in your pitch-dark bedroom, before he stopped fucking you altogether. You love it when Benny bends you over the kitchen table and pulls your jeans down, nudges your legs open with his booted feet, spits on your cunt and shoves his hard cock inside you without any other preamble. You love it when he cups your pussy through your clothes and presses against the fabric until he makes you come in the dark of the movie theater. You love it when he drags you out of the shower and hauls you onto his shoulder, a wet, laughing mess, throws you on the bed and fucks you with your legs hooked on his shoulders. You love it when you’re lying with him on the couch, and he grabs the remote, pausing whatever it is you’re watching and tossing it on the floor before lifting your shirt with a growl of “you think you can rub these fucking gorgeous tits on me and I ain’t gonna do nothing about it?” 

He’s got a filthy mouth, you love that too, and gets a kick out of detailing the nasty things he’s about to do to you, his deep voice thrumming through you like boulders down a cliff. He texts you when you’re at work to tell you he’s fucking his fist to the scent of your shampoo on his sheets. And you love this, too. One day, you ask him if he minds your sensible underwear, does he wish you wore more intricate and refined lingerie, lace and such? His answer is unequivocally straight-forward, “baby, I don’t give a shit what you wear as long as you can take it off fast enough.” To the point.

He fits you like a glove, the girth of him sliding perfectly inside you, filling you up without stretching you, you’re always ready to get down to it. You don’t let him fuck you bare, however, even though you two are clean and agreed from the beginning to be exclusive. You tell him it’s because you don’t use any contraception. “It’s a feminist statement, Benjamin, women are fertile four days a month while men can impregnate us 365 days a year. Contraception shouldn’t be our fucking problem”, and Benny doesn’t argue. He never does. And when you tell him it’s political, you almost believe it yourself, it’s so much easier than to acknowledge the true reason. 

There would be clues for him to pick up, if he only knew that he was to look for them. But how could he? He’s never been to your apartment. Never got around to hanging these curtains. He would happily spend every waking hour in your company, but he understood early on that you need long periods of time on your own. Your apartment is where you retreat, then. Sometimes you wake up with a start in the middle of the night and fumble blindly in bed. When your hands find his body, you turn onto your side; he doesn’t think much of it, it’s probably just a bad dream. He has a lot of these himself. You told him about Éric, eventually, and the reason why you moved here. He listened through clenched teeth and tight fists, and when he fucked you after that, it was the softest he had ever been. He treats you like a wounded wild animal: his hand always extended, letting you approach at your own pace. He has no way of knowing your heart is hollowed in the shape of another man. 

—

You settle into a comfortable routine, one that the two of you enjoy. Unless you chose to be alone, you spend Monday, Wednesday and Thursday nights at his place. On Sundays, when you’re not driving to New York with Will to visit some exhibition or other, Benny likes to take you upstate for a hike, and more often than not, draws you away from the trail to fuck you standing against a tree, the bark bruising the soft flesh of your back, the cold biting your naked legs, his hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your mewling sounds. You go to every one of his fights, screaming his name until your lungs burn, embarrassing the fuck out of Will, and afterward, you languidly suck the tension out of his cock, his sore hand tugging your soft hair, telling him how well he did, how watching him fight makes you proud and turns you on, even when he loses, which he rarely does. 

Tuesdays are for Rosie and on Fridays you’re on your own. That’s when he meets “the guys” in their usual dingy bar outside of town. “The guys”, this tightly woven pack of men, the individuals indistinguishable from each other in your outsider’s eyes. When Benny talks about them, it’s with such devotion, such absolute loyalty, you wonder what they’ve been through together. You don’t ask, even though for the first time in a long while, you actually genuinely care; he’s not innately secretive, but there are underlying forces in his refusal to discuss his time in the army that you don’t fully understand. In the meantime, you provide him with something else, warmth and a cosy familiarity. 

Once, you tried teasing him about what you called their silly code-names, Pope, Catfish, Redfly, but were quick to realise you struck a nerve. You know Will is Ironhead, because he told you himself, but that’s as far as it gets. Now you refer to them as The Goonies. You made sure Benny knows it’s affectionate. 

So you are quite happily surprised when, on a Sunday morning, he announces nervously that Redfly’s in town the following week, and if you’d want to meet them.

“Meet who? The Goonies?” you ask, your spoonful of cereal hanging in midair.

“Oh fuck off,” he shoots back, failing to keep a straight face.

“Oh my god it’s happening! This is a code red! I’m gonna meet the Goonies!”

“You ok with that?”

“Sure! You know it’s one of my favourite movies.”

“No but for real, baby. I’m serious. It’s important. You wanna meet the guys?

God, he’s cute when he’s nervous. You lower your spoon and put on your softest smile when you reply. 

“Yes, Benjamin Miller. I do want to meet the guys.” 

“Ok. It’s done, then. Now c’mere, I’m gonna fuck those glorious tits and come all over that pretty face.”

“Can I finish my cereal first?”

"Nope”.

You love that popping sound.

****

Thank you for reading till the end! If by any chance you liked it and would like to read further installments, I made a taglist.

Taglist (thank you💕): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death’s Doorstep (pt 18/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word Count: 1607

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Anxceit

Warnings: past abuse, past death, I didn’t edit this at all before posting

~~~START~~~

Janus found themself in Virgil’s apartment at least once a day. They liked his company — shut up Remus — and they were pretty sure he enjoyed theirs too. Sometimes one or both (or even more) twins were there, sometimes it was just Janus, Virgil, and Patton. 

They’d been attempting over the last few weeks to teach Virgil how to cook. He’d mastered pancakes, but a healthy diet needed a little more substance. 

Virgil was awful at cooking. Like, to the point where Janus thought he might be self sabotaging on purpose. Cookies seemed to go from undercooked to burnt in half a second, any and all pasta was somehow way overdone even though Janus told him how long to boil the noodles for, and meat always seemed to be burnt on the outside and undercooked — sometimes cold — on the inside. 

But every time Virgil got something right, every time his food even resembled being edible, he seemed so pleased with himself…

Janus had it bad. 

Today, they’d been planning on showing Virgil how to use a rice cooker — very hard to misuse a rice cooker, just scoop rice, fill to the line, and hit cook, how hard could it be? — but Patton had other plans. 

“Daddy, can we go to the park?” Patton asked, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s leg and staring, pleadingly, straight up. The glasses Logan made him gave him the unfair advantage of having enormous eyes. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Virgil grimaced. “I don’t think we can go today.”

Logan was very strict about when Virgil could leave the third floor and journey up to the rooftop park, and he usually required at least a day’s notice before allowing the trip in order to make sure the roof’s safety systems were still working properly. And besides, Logan hadn’t left his lab in days — at least, as far as Janus knew he hadn’t, but it was entirely possible that he was still mad at Janus and therefore just avoiding them. 

Patton, however, was allowed to go up to the rooftop at any time so long as he had a responsible adult with him (which in this case just meant anyone other than Remus, who was great with children, but terrible at being responsible). 

“I can take him,” Janus was offering before their brain had the time to catch up with their mouth. 

Why had they said that? They were awful with children! The first time they’d interacted with Patton, they’d only served to make his distress worse!

But Patton was staring at them with those big blue eyes, and Virgil looked so relieved. 

Janus had it so bad. 

So now Janus was on the roof with Patton trying not to be a complete failure as babysitter. Patton wanted to go on the swings, so Janus worried the whole time that they’d accidentally push him off the swing completely. Patton wanted to play heroes and villains, so Janus struggled to make even the most basic of dialogue — despite literally being a supervillain. Patton wanted to play tag, so Janus tried to run slowly enough to not tag Patton immediately, while also quickly enough to tag Patton eventually. 

None of this came naturally to them, but Patton seemed so happy that they thought that might be ok. 

“M. Janus,” Patton said eventually, tuckered out from their game of tag and lying on the foam play mats that lined the playground area. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Janus answered. They’d been lost in thought debating whether to stay standing or to sit on the ground with Patton, so the child’s serious expression startled them. 

“I don’t think my papa’s coming back.”

What were they supposed to say to that!? “What makes you say that?”

“Daddy doesn’t talk about him anymore,” Patton answered, frowning at the sky. “And he gets sad when I ask.”

“Oh,” Janus said, dumbly. 

“You’re nervous,” Patton observed. “Like daddy when Mr. Franky is around.”

“I’m not!” This kid was starting to freak them out, there was way too much intelligence in those eyes. 

“Lying is bad,” Patton pouted, and just like that, he was a little kid again. 

“I’m very sorry.”

“No you’re not!” Patton giggled. 

“No,” Janus agreed, finally deciding to sit. “I am not.”

“You’re silly!” Patton laughed. 

Janus cracked a smile at that. Maybe this is why people like children so much, they thought as Patton continued to giggle. 

“M. Janus, do you have a daddy?” Patton asked once his giggles subsided. 

“No,” Janus answered. “At least, not one that I ever knew.”

“A papa?”

“No. I used to have a mama, but she’s gone now, like your papa.” The smile slipped from their face at the memory of their mama. 

“I don’t have a mommy,” Patton said. “Daddy doesn’t have a mommy either.”

“Oh.” 

Asking Virgil about his old life had felt like crossing a line, but Janus was curious, and Patton was offering information…

“Have you met your grandparents?” They asked

“Uh huh!” Patton nodded happily. “Grandpa and pop pop visit a lot! Um, daddy couldn’t see them last time cuz he was busy, but Miss Sophie took me to see them in the visiting room and grandpa showed me a magic trick!”

“That sounds fun,” Janus said before their brain fully caught up to what Patton had said. “Visiting room?”

“Yeah! It’s got all sorts of games, and coloring books, and chairs for everyone to sit in! One time pop pop said it reminded him of a waiting room at the doctor’s office!”

“Oh…” Apparently, no matter how much Janus learned about the superhero program, there would still be details that managed to hit them like a ton of bricks. There was a reason they’d picked the side they’d picked, but they really thought the ‘good guys’ would at least put some effort into looking like good guys. 

“Why are you sad?” Patton asked, cocking his head to the side innocently. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, dear,” Janus reassured him gently. Patton was definitely a little too perceptive for a young child. 

Patton climbed into Janus’s lap and wrapped his arms around their neck. “Don’t be sad.”

Oh, Janus thought as a wave of contentment washed over them. He’s an empath. 

Their mama had been an empath, so they were quite familiar with the feeling of empathic soothing. It felt a little like being a kid again, they could almost hear their mama’s quiet humming and their sister playing in the other room. For a moment they let themself revel in the smell of bread baking and the faint sound of the fan whirling overhead. 

But then Janus opened their eyes, and they were back on the rooftop. Nothing but a memory. 

“Thank you, Patton,” they smiled, valiantly ignoring the faint misting of their eyes. “You are a very good cheerer-upper.”

Patton beamed proudly at the compliment. 

“Now, are you ready to go back inside, or would you like to play one more game?”

“Um, can we go on the big slide?” Patton asked, once again using his large eyes to his advantage. 

Virgil had mandated the first time they’d been brought up to the rooftop playground that Patton could only go down the big slide if someone was going with him. He hadn’t asked for it yet this time, but he usually asked his dad or one of the twins to go down with him at least once a trip. 

“Of course, Patton.”

Patton held Janus’s hand the entire way up to the slide, and showed Janus how to sit properly so that they could hold on to Patton without the toddler going flying. 

“Okay,” Janus said once they were all settled. “In three. Two. One!”

Patton screamed in delight the whole way down. 

“Again, please!” He begged once he was standing on his own two — wobbly — feet. 

“Hmm, I suppose one more time won’t hurt,” Janus mused. “But after that we should get going; we don’t want you daddy to worry too much.”

Patton nodded seriously as he dragged Janus back up the play structure. 

“Jus’ one more time,” he agreed. “Then we have to check on daddy.”

One more trip down the slide seemed to be all it took to wear Patton out. He held his arms up for Janus to pick him up once he’d finished giggling, and showed Janus how to properly hold him so that he was settled on their hip; to Janus, it wasn’t the most natural hold, but Patton settled immediately into the crook of their neck and was out like a light. 

Virgil was right there to take Patton from them as soon as they opened the door to the third-floor apartment, and Janus had a sneaking suspicion that he’d been hovering nervously by the door ever since they’d left. 

“Looks like you two had fun,” Virgil commented as he transferred Patton onto his own hip. Patton mumbled something, but settled down quickly. 

“Well, roughly speaking, I believe we played all of the games,” Janus joked quietly. “And we finished it all up by going down the big slide.”

“That’s nice.” It was a good thing Patton was mostly asleep otherwise he’d have been called out for lying. “I should put him down for his nap.”

“I should get going,” Janus said, turning back towards the door. 

“Or,” Virgil interjected. “Maybe you could stay for a while?”

When Janus turned back around the hero’s face was bright red. They considered giving a teasing reply — why my dear Knightcaster, it almost sounds like you’re fond of me — but they didn’t want the invitation to get rescinded. 

“That sounds lovely.”

~~~END~~~

AO3 comment: can’t wait to get a Janus and Patton “episode”

Me: oh yeah… that kinda needs to happen soon considering Janus is supposed to be Virgil’s love interest

So anyway, one more chapter after this in section 2 (it’s hella short, and I’ll probably post it in the next couple days)

For once in the whole time I’ve spent writing this fic the entire way forward seems clear to me, I know how to start section 3, I know what exactly happens in section 4, it’s all clear to me and I’m very excited about it (that doesn’t mean it won’t take me a while to write, but hopefully it speeds up the process a little)

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14

[beifong-brainrot]

Wait taking prevs tags here bcs im not done here

Like for some reason whenever I think on Lin and Korra's relationship, I'm under the impression that it was mutually antagonistic, when rewatching it, Korra is so friendly and nice to Lin most of the time?

She doesn't really let Lin push her around too much, and does snap back if Lin goes in too hard (which most characters don't so maybe that's why she stands out) but overal she's just trying to be nice and helpful. Like she's genuinely such a sweetheart.

I think this scene informs fandom's ideas of Lin and Korra's relationship when it really seems to be an outlier

And even in the Zaofu arc, when you could argue Korra's behaviour towards Lin was... vaguely out of line (?) she seemed to genuinely be acting out of a desire to help Lin and Su, and since Lin refused to tell her what the issue was, and Su wasn't veey specific, Korra was kinda acting in the dark.

Like even the "bitter, lonely old woman" comment, while harsh, was vaguely warranted, at least from Korra's perspective, because of how harshly Lin treated Opal, someone genuinely innocent in the situation who was trying to make a connection and offer an olive branch.

I've made posts on Lin and Korra's relationship before, but it still gets me that there was actually someone who said that Lin should be allowed to smack Korra. Like I hope I don't have to explain why "the cop should be allowed to hit the teen brown girl who is kinda mouthy sometimes" is a take that makes my skin crawl. If I didn't have moots who also saw that post I'd be convinced that I had somehow dreamt it up.

So yeah going back to my og point the Beifong twins should be allowed to bully their estranged aunt thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Yes! Like especially considering how protective and caring the twins seem to be of Opal I can't imagine they would just be chill with Lin making their sis cry ❤️

Those are her attack dog big little brothers your honour

Always gonna be harping on about how the twins are basically Su copy pasted, but I've been really thinking about how similar they are to young Su (obviously. Like Su is 16 in the flashbacks and the twins are around 16 in B3 so it makes sense) and how cool it woule be to have them interact with Lin due to this. Especially since she seems to have a habit of projecting ppl who she has issues with onto random teens as she did with Korra.

(The same hand on the hip... never beating the mama's boy allegations)

Especially because, while most Lin + twins content (all 3 instances of it lol) I've seen has them being pretty friendly, which is valid. Though it would be nice to see some teens who genuinely clap back at her when she's doing her whole "mean to teens" things. Since Opal, the bending bros and Asami just kinda roll over for her and tbh even Korra, while she has her moments of backbone, she's genuinely pretty nice and friendly with Lin most of the time.

And remembering the twins' strong love for their mom and Opal, I can see them not being too friendly to Lin at first, especially after she makes Opal cry. They're also both little shits im different ways. Wing would just mess with her good naturedly while Wei is ready to match Lin's asshole level at a moments notice.

[quirrrky]

FIRST KISS w/ YOUR HAIKYUU S/O

PICK A PILE SERIES: THE FIRSTS #4 〔MASTERLIST • PREV - NEXT: FIRST TIME—SEND ASK TO GET TAGGED〕

1. Close your eyes and think of your HAIKYUU s/o and focus on the pictures above. 2. Select which draws you in the most. 3. Go under the cut to find your scenario/reading! Have fun!

N!SFW part of this series will be posted on my MDNI blog (must be 18+). Send this emoji 💗 in my ask box/reply section to be tagged! And please, I'd love to know which pile you picked and who is your hq s/o!

♡ This shall not be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

PILE #ONE

mindblowing, intimate, candle

Your first kiss is a make-up kiss. You'll have a misunderstanding with him before this happens but you both will end up deciding to work on it together.

There's something so old soul about your first kiss together. He'll be like, "Are we okay now?" and you nod in agreement. He goes close to you to kiss your forehead first. Both of you are kind of anxious at first, because you just had a fight. However, when his lips touch yours, it will be uncontrollable. Your first kiss will be so passionate, taking out all the tension you've had after your squabble. You'll be over the moon for each other, completely losing yourselves in the kiss.

There'll be so much of his emotions in the kiss. There's both passion while trying to take things slow. There's this romantic aura in his kisses, making sure he, uhm, not to be nsfw: tastes all of you. Damn, he'll kiss really good too. He really knows what he's doing. He might have an arm firm around you. Here he'll realize that you're the one he'll like to be kissing in every celebration of his life. He kisses you like you're in the 60s, very vintage romantic type of kiss.

You, on the other hand, will feel so warm. His kisses make you feel so adored and loved. Still, you're trying to temper out his overwhelming passion, because I can see that you're both in public during this kiss. You guys might be avoiding to escalate this into a make-out session, because you're in a middle of romantic candle light dinner date. You might be seated somewhere really private, you know those cozy booths in the very corner, but there are still a few people who can see you from time to time. Somehow though, it really feels as though it's just the two of you. Put your head in my shoulder played while I'm writing this, in speaking of old soul. There might be a very sweet and quaint song playing in the background as you kiss too. (I'm melting...)

I don't really see anything scandalous about this. I see him still remain grounded while kissing you. He may cuddle a little afterwards.

vibe bank: desserts, holidays with you, "I want to marry you one day." fancy restaurants, things I love about you, childhood activities, "I see something that reminds me of you everywhere I go."

𖧵𖧵𖧵

hammer, 4 of wands, ace of wands, ten of swords, him: hierophant, 8 of wands*king of cups, you: the sun*queen of pentacles*temperance

PILE #TWO

SUGGESTIVE! first of all, I'm warning you now. this one's suggestive, so if you're sensitive, please just choose another pile or leave.

rollercoaster, heartfelt, magnetic

So this is also my pile lmao xD Starting off, if you feel drawn to another pile, I suggest you also take a look at it after this. If there's none, it's okay it just simply means that your first kiss with your haikyuu s/o isn't here or isn't really that momentous. It might be just a little peck in a convenience store lmao. What I have for us, is the first real kiss with him.

This will happen during your wedding night. There's a mixture of both stress and excitement. He's the one being very excited while you're stressed out and anxious. You could possibly think that you're not "body beautiful" for him. You might have insecurities with how you look that's why you're very anxious about this moment.

But I see here that he'll be very chill about it. You might be standing in front of a mirror and he'll come beside you, "Babe, I don't know what you're talking about, but to me, you're perfect." Then he'll cup your cheek and starts to kiss you in front of the mirror, so you could see how much he adores you.

There'll be so much of physicality in this, mainly because this is your wedding night. There's just so much fiery passion and desire. There's this thirst.

There's so much excitement with the way he'll kiss you. He'll also be very dominating and intense. Very masculine. A little bit rough too. Like a little child's first time to get a lollipop lol. It's like he's not kissing you, he's devouring you. He's down to show you that you're his, very powerful that will make you melt in his arms.

I don't see you melting though, I see you fighting back with equal passion and intensity. He kinda' likes that tbh and it's making him more excited about this. Kissing him felt like a release for you. Release of that timid part of you and letting loose of that romantic side you might be too anxious to show before.

Something about creation comes out here. Whatever you guys will be creating.

There's a lot more message here but let's keep this sfw.

One really knee-buckling thing that I really see here which makes me really go uwu 100%+++. He'll be watching you while you're asleep, eyes full of admiration like he's worshipping you, lovingly and gently running a hand on your frame with a sweet smile on his face. Get you by Daniel Caesar played while I'm on this.

vibe bank: lazy days, attraction, "You are my angel." something sweet, I love you, reminiscing, "I get lost in your eyes."

𖧵𖧵𖧵

seduction, justice, hierophant, page of wands, 9 of swords, the hanged man, him: emperor, ace of wands*page of pentacles, you: strength, 4 of swords*queen of cups

PILE #THREE

romantic, wild/adventurous, magical

This pile! Is the easier one and very lighthearted! Unlike the others, this one has a solid story. You're attending some sort of party with him, but you'll both be in your own company most likely gossiping about the attendees there or just talking inside your own bubble. Suddenly, he'll just get lost in the middle of your conversation and shuts you up with a kiss, sneakily and out of the blue, you'll totally be surprised! Into you by Ariana Grande played while I write this.

This might be a confession kiss or your relationship is fairly new and not yet that deep.

It's a messy and a little bit rough kiss. He feels totally agitated during. He might be a little competitive about this kiss. Someone might have gotten him really jealous before this. Also, it seems as if he can't get enough, completely addicted.

Nevertheless, this kiss makes you feel whole. It's like the missing piece to level up your relationship. Somehow, you'll be very conscious of this kiss, making it to be the perfect one for the both of you, detail by detail taking in how he tastes and how to move your lips.

I see here that a third person is jealous while you kiss. You might be all dressed-up in that party and there's someone there who's eyeing or flirting with you that doesn't seem to sit well with your s/o and that's why he kisses you sneakily to show that person that you're already taken. Your s/o is low-key proud of what he did tbh. After the kiss, I can see him with you in his arms as he approaches this third person. Your s/o's face will have this smug smile lmao.

vibe bank: wine tasting, taking care of you, "I can't stop thinking about you." matching outfits, proposal, lust, "I can't find the right words to say."

𖧵𖧵𖧵

stabbed in the back, the strength, page of swords, queen of cups, 3 of cups, him: high priestess, 5 of wands*the devil, you: hermit, the world*page of pentacles

PILE #FOUR

passionate, over the moon, heart racing

Your first kiss will happen during a date. To some of you, this will be during your first date or you'll revisit the place where you've had your first date. I can see The Cloisters vibe, wherein there's a courtyard with flowers and medieval like interiors. This can be in a museum, castle, parliament, or a park.

Your haikyuu s/o will be definitely smitten with you. He can't stop looking at you. He's that starstruck and him being your major simp shows strongly here. He might be keeping the urge to kiss you for so long that's why when the opportunity arises, he finally initiates the first kiss. However, he won't do it right away. He might start with flirting or playfully teasing you through words first.

I see him taking you to somewhere more peaceful or where you could be alone/away from others' eyes just like Romeo and Juliet sneaking out.

Somehow, he'll start with your neck first then onto your lips. He's a kabedon man and will have you pinned against the wall.

He may or may not believe in soulmates but he'll definitely feel like you're fated to be with each other in this kiss. He'll be very passionate, fingers in your hairs, eyes closed firmly as he kisses you. His kisses will be hot and quite aggressive. More fast than slow, and won't take too long.

You'll get so lost in this kiss. It makes you feel like you're the only one that matters in the world. I see you just surrendering in his pace, totally enjoying the moment.

I'm listening to Beautiful by Bazzi ft. Camila Cabello here.

vibe bank: passion, unplug, fantasies, "I still remember the day we first met." exploring the town, goodnight texts, "I can't hide my smile even when we're apart."

𖧵𖧵𖧵

camera, the hanged man, 8 of pentacles, 4 of wands, strength, him: lovers, king of wands*knight of wands you: the world, 9 of pentacles* the moon

🧁 @hanmasbunny @discountkiyoko @azazelles @toshiswifey @icecappa @cuddlysoftbear @close222u @duhsies @your-girl-mj @taurus852 @itsmeaudrieee​ @triskoof​ @avaisdelusional​ @aquenchedsoul​ @kenmaslov3r @discountkiyoko @toshiswifey @icecappa @tobibam @hello0i @jahnvi-d @nao-cchi @chewiverse @encrypta @kirakirasaku @tobuo @@ebiharachan @devilsukuna @savantsoulfinder @shrimpy109 @toshibaby @chewiverse @tessabrown101 @cashbanse28 @0ray0 @musicshylover

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡ Please help me reach other viewers. Thank you so so much!

COLLECTIONS: Haikyuu ✧ DAYDREAM MUSEUM

[portraitofadumbassonfire]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

YOU WON'T BREAK MY SOUL YOU WON'T BREAK MY SOOOOOUL YOU WON'T BREAK MY SOUL YOU WON'T BREAK MY SOOOOOUL I'M TELLING EVERY BODY EVERYBODYYYYY EVERYBODY EVERYBODYYYYY I'M TAKING MY NEWWWW SALVATION BUILDING MY OWWWWN FOUNDATIOOON

See the full post

988 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

#4

Antoinette outside hearing Louis & Lestat fucking:

994 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

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1,237 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

#2

Thots On NOPE (SPOILERS)

I get why this is divisive, but, Jordan Peele has constantly described the themes of the film as dealing with Spectacle. He is 1000% right, but I personally think that the themes have even moreso to do with exploitation.

When it comes to Ricky or "Jupe" I've seen so many reviewers saying that subplot had nothing to do with the film as whole, but it did in a VERY haunting way.

When Ricky is talking about the SNL skit that parodied a traumatic time in his life, he recalls it like a well executed comedy sketch. Then it cuts back to him hiding under the table.

I've seen so many videos online that have some sort of attention-grabbing title, regardless if it's accurate to what you will actually see, but the OP is aware of what makes people click on what's to be supposedly promised in the title or the thumbnail. They know what will attract a crowd. Not to be too graphic, but even porn videos will do the same thing, anything to get clicks & clout.

When Ricky starts the show promising a spectacle, he's used to the reaction he gets, hence why he always does the show showing off the "aliens" at 8:00 PM. Or at least practices the show at night, but the reason he does probably has to do with the "aliens" showing up at that specific time, hence why it's the first time we see activity from the supposed "aliens". (When we see the lights from the show when the sun is down in the first few scenes of the film. We don't know if it's rehearsal or just another show of his.)

He's willing to risk the possibility of an attack from a wild animal like the supposed UFO because he dealt with the attack from Gordy. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. (like the shoe standing upright, which could be the "bad miracle" OJ refers to) He truly thought he could handle the intensity of the "alien ship" since he survived the attack and lived to tell the tale. He developed some kind of God complex that he could work around the danger of a "trained animal". His wife even said "Even trained animals can be unpredictable."

The people on set with Lucky are a great example. Who the hell stands behind a horse as an adult? Who's the genius who had different chimpanzees for a T.V. show with 0 wranglers? There are still people whom are dumb enough to go to the zoo and go over safety barriers, taunt the animals, or even hold their children close from any danger.

It's ironic how people are very obsessed with the concept of aliens, but if too many people can't handle creatures from earth, what makes us think we can handle the ones not from here?

The stars of the SNL skit straight up mocked a heavily disturbing moment in his childhood, yet he's still profiting off of the moment where this kids dress up as aliens to scare his neighbors as a joke and an intimidation tactic. (notice how their alien costumes look also like ape costumes)

Plus he said he was getting paid by people to sleep in a memorabilia room referencing multiple violent deaths on a TV set. Even with Oprah herself, when she interviewed the woman who was attacked by a chimpanzee and got her face ripped off, people in the comments criticize her for exploiting the woman instead of talking about how she moved on from the spectacle of a tragedy.

For the Haywoods, they're trying to uphold a legacy, they're the only black-owned horse trainers and their great great great-grandfather is someone whom had not been credited for their work as the first motion picture captured. For Emerald to be the one who captured a picture of alien proof as the descendant is SOOOO symbolic.

The cinematographer, Antlers, a white man played perfectly by Michael Wincott, didn't like the lighting in the shot he took so he took the risk to get a perfect shot. The TMZ biker had a whole helmet that reflected everything around him because who else would be obsessed with getting all of the chaos around them than TMZ? (The same publication that somehow managed to know that Beyoncé was filming the music video for "XO" & announces celebrity deaths before the family even gets a chance to.)

I've seen videos of so many disturbing events before, during, or after the fact that I can see what Mr. Peele was going for in commentating on. There's an infamous tiktok showcasing someone in the middle of a near plane crash I've seen reposted on Twitter, there's footage of a bear and a cougar in a circus attacking their supposed "trainers", talk show footage of a lion going after a toddler & almost biting the poor child it was sitting next to, the frozen and preserved bodies of those who've tried do climb Mt. Everest, and I've even seen a man who documented himself after getting graphically attacked by two grizzly bears. Yet the views on those videos reach the millions.

There's so many times a fucked up or upsetting moment in time has been exploitated to the point where it can be made a joke, a traumatic scene, or a topic of discussion, and that for me is what NOPE was commentating on. Some will not catch on with one viewing, but I recommend a second, or even third watch to fully get what's being told.

Films like that, that have a longer shelf life are what inspire me. It's a rarity that a filmmaker chooses to give their audience a challenge.

1,705 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lexi: *unsubtly mocks Nate's internalized homophobia in a play acted out to the entire public*

Maddy, Rue, Kat, and Jules in the audience:

6,395 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 154

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

I was able to get the Master Post cleaned up this morning.  I know there is a reblog going around with some of the links missing... I put that one up originally as a place holder so I could update my page links in chapters 101 through this one.   I did NOT anticipate it would get immediately reblogged, which made me squeak in pleasant surprise.  I’ll reblog the full post so everyone has the right one.

Also, thanks to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going and all your help beta-reading and checking my links.  You three are the real heroes here!

“The quiet rooms are done,” Hannah yawned the next morning. “It’s a good thing we decided to make them available immediately, because the first one had people scheduling time before we finished the second one.”

“How many did we end up with?” I asked, pushing down my own urge to yawn. I had always prided myself on being able to resist the urge to yawn when others did, and I wasn’t letting that stop now.

The model of the Ark came up on the table emitter, and Hannah zoomed in on the highlighted areas. “Right now, we have twelve, just like you set up for the second Food Festival. But I’ll be honest, they rooms are already booked for the foreseeable future, and I don’t think that’s tenable.”

“Agreed. I’ll talk to the rest of the Council, but at this point, we need to see about setting all available spaces for quiet rooms.” I nodded and added that note to my agenda. “Moving on, food vendors being allowed in BioLab2. Any updates?”

Parvati flicked the data to everyone. “Grey isn’t thrilled with the possibility that the food will contaminate the aquatics, but is willing to allow vendors in ‘The Fairy Circle’?” She gave me a questioning look. “They said you would know what that meant.”

I just smiled and shook my head. “It’s where I go camping. Conor managed to pull off a prank that fooled even Charly and made a Faerie circle.  It’s a good choice, though: ten, eleven feet across, accessible, and far enough from the water that there wouldn’t be any risk.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Credit to Conor on that one. But, Grey was very enthusiastic about the idea of setting up some picnic tables throughout the woods and letting people bring picnics.”

“I already have some vendors on board, there,” I breathed in relief. “Especially the ones who specialize in the type of foods that lend themselves well to being portable.”

Hannah’s face lit up. “Do we get to taste test some of these? I’m really getting some bento box and pasty vibes from what you just said, and I’m not sure which I’m more excited about.”

“I think I can get that to happen,” I laughed. “I wouldn’t mind trying some of the options myself, but I can at least already confirm that all bases are covered for dietary requirements. Next up, where are we on the holiday date?”

“Still working with the other departments to finalize a date where all projects can be completed, paused, or at least at a point where they don’t require direct observation. Everyone is on board, though.”

“That’s the biggest hurdle,” I confirmed. “Means we can proceed with at least putting the rest of the events together in preparation for the final date. I trust you two in handling the party aspect of it, and Charly is already working Bash on another Kink Night event at the Undine - minimal planning needed there. So, let’s figure out who is coordinating the paint-tag fight, and we can loop back to the plans for the party.”

“While I am entirely sure Charly can handle planning for both the paint tag and the other - seeing as both were her ideas - it doesn’t feel fair to leave them both entirely on her shoulders,” Hannah agreed. “It says here that you already had Conor confirm we missed Holi?

“By about six months,” I confessed. “So we’re pretty much both too late and too early.”

“I do believe the arrows would be frowned upon, in any event,” Parvati joked. “I still have her paint formulas - flavors are not listed, but there is a distinct lack of both black and yellow.”

“Those were… scotch bonnet for the black, I know that one. I think the yellow was gochujang, which would still hurt if you got it in your eyes,” I recalled.

She flicked her hands, bracelets chiming. “I will ask for a new formula for yellow, but I think we can live without black paint. The yellow was lovely, though.”

“Ask nicely, and she’ll probably give you the glitter formula colors, which I think are different flavors from the regular palette,” I suggested. “And the glitter is ultra-violet reactive, so that’ll be fun.”

Emphatic stabbing at her datapad ensued - impressive, because it wasn’t even physically there, just emitted from the band on her wrist. “Once I have those, I believe Hannah and I can coordinate that along with the party.  There is no food component, it is only for one day, so the scope is far smaller than the Festival was.”

“And besides,” Hannah added with a shrug, “whip up some paints and some spongy balls to soak it up, set boundaries, invite anyone who wants to attend. Planning done.” She dusted her hands off for emphasis, but she had a point.

“I’ve got the care packages well underway, so we’re solid there. The party. What’s the plan there?”

Parvati dismissed the schematic from the table emitter and sent a different image to it. This one was practically the opposite of what I had expected: where I had anticipated Food Festival 2: Pyrotechnic Boogaloo, I was instead looking at a park that I was reasonably certain only existed in dreams.

Soft green grass that my toes wiggled to touch spanned a rolling, looping thoroughfare. Trees arched overhead like an arbor, and were either woven with lights are absolutely covered in fireflies.  Between breaks in the canopy, a night sky filled with more stars than I had seen in my living memory.  Here and there small braziers burned brightly with fire, resting on sturdy rugs and dotted around with cushions.

“Vati,” I whispered hoarsely. “We can’t use BioLab2 for this, can we? Will Grey allow it?”

“We can, and they are.” Her smile was the feral one that usually preceded a coup de grace of event planning. “This, however, is not BioLab2.  This is the corridors of levels twelve through fourteen, leading into the lab.”

My first urge was to guess what she was planning, but my mind came up blank. I circled around my desk to stand closer to the table. “Okay, talk to me. Make it make sense.”

She nodded. “The grass is real, laid down like sod. The terraforming teams have agreed to let us use it, provided we allow them to collect data on how it holds up to so much foot traffic and include a post-event question regarding the tactile feel on bare feet.  So, bare feet they shall have.” She winked when I realized she and Hannah were going to make it part of the theme. “The trees are an illusion, simple light emitters against the corridor walls, combined with the existing texture of the surface.”

When she moved the image to mimic walking further down the path, Hannah picked up. “The larger spaces are actually where the corridors are longer between quiet rooms. Rather than trying to pull off the tree illusion, we’re going to create a  night sky with shooting stars, comets, the works.  Like a dream.”

“I like it. It’s not what I was expecting, but I’m even more impressed for that.”

“We couldn’t compete with Charly,” Parvati confessed. “She is already going to have our base desires covered.  Anything we tried to do would look like a pale imitation. So, we went the other direction: What else do we do to feel alive?”

“We dream,” I laughed. “It’s all a fairy tale dream, isn’t it?”

“That’s the goal,” Hannah confirmed. “A beautiful dream. One day and one night where you can live out your humanity however you want, without having to compromise.  If someone wants to throw paint with childish abandon, then stroll and dance through a dream, and finish the night at the Undine trying something they never dared to do before, they can do that.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds decadent.”

“I was going for hedonistic, over all, but you’re on the right track,” Parvati laughed. “Hannah and I agreed that everyone on the Ark needed one perfect day.  And since perfect is different for everyone…” She shrugged. “We just decided to give them all the options.  The quiet rooms will be open if their perfect includes a botanical garden, or a cloud… the mess halls will be open if it means a feast, or even just decadent hors d'oeuvres they could never make an excuse to try. It’s literally all on the table.”

“Consider it signed off on.” I still couldn’t take my eyes off that grass, toes wiggling happily. “Just let me know the date when we have one, I need a pedicure to enjoy this completely.”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[puzzled-on-main]

1. How many works on AO3?

AO3 says 26.

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

122,201 - but I’ve deleted many, many more.

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos?

tap out whenever

gunpowder and firewood

it’s just a prank, bro

star-crossed

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like %@$&*mas

…all Spideypool. And I love and stand by them all.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Whatever I’m feeling - but it’s mostly Spideypool that’s up on AO3. I haven’t posted anything in about a year, and the last one was Poolverine, which it turns out is just Spideypool for people who like bears and knives. (If you like hunks and guns, Cablepool.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I used to reply to every comment. I still catch most of them, but I’m recovering from OCD, so I’m trying to be less of a perfectionist.

6. Angstiest Ending?

star-crossed, I think - but I have a lot of gut-punch endings.

7. Happiest Ending?

My first instinct is to say It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like %@$&*mas, but no, it’s definitely what’s the sitch?

8. Do you get hate?

Shockingly, no, but I do get constructive criticism on my fic once in a while. Which, by the way, I do not want, and neither does anyone else. Con crit definitely has its place in the fic writing world. That place is beta reading. Not a comments section.

9. Do you write smut?

I swear it's just for the plot.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I guess Spideypool and Poolverine are inherently crossovers. But not beyond that.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also not to my knowledge. I’m not big enough for that.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

No, but my alter Andi ( @d-adpool ) collaborates with @bunsofhoney quite a lot.

14. All time favorite ship?

It’s probably Bones and Booth from the TV show Bones. No other characters have ever made me so damn angry about a will-they/won’t-they.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have so many. Only about half of them are online.

16. Writing strengths?

Dialogue, plotting, pacing, and keeping it punchy.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

My writing style is more compatible with scriptwriting than short story writing. I can really only write in a character voice, and I’m terrible with, like, prose. I have no other way I can phrase that. I’m bad with prose.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

Agree with prev @punch-love on this one: you really have to either speak the language fluently or research it properly, and even if you do, it’s going to come off as unnatural more often than not.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

There was bound to be something before Hamilton, but I can’t remember it. Hamilton was the first fandom I got an audience in. (All of my Hamilton fic is purged from the Internet, by the way. Which is a shame, because I’d love to read what I wrote as an idiot teenager, but also a good thing, because I don’t want anyone else to read what I wrote as an idiot teenager.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like %@$&*mas. No question. Oh my god. Must-read if you hate the holidays. Or love the holidays. Or have an intense, burning indifference to them.

tagging: @worstwolverinesbf @bunsofhoney @obihoebikenobi (I literally don’t think I’ve spoken to obi before but I’m doing it now. Hi <3)

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

1. How many works on AO3?

15

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

243,788

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos

I am not surprised the first three are my most conventionally-standard spideypool porn + my long-fic. I am really delighted though that my most emotionally poignant fic and least conventional spideypool porn are the runner ups!

truth or dare

That Works For Me

love-punch

atlas

just go for it

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I mostly write for Spideypool. I have a few works for Loki. I always talk about branching into other fandoms/have some unfinished WIPs but it hasn't happened yet. I have a bunch of mostly niche heterosexual couples I want to write for which will please no one but myself. (my favorite audience) but again. I don't have huge output, and I don't branch out from my comfortable paths often.

5. Do you respond to comments?

It's probably my favorite part of publishing work outside of like, actually writing. I love engaging with people who enjoy my work and discussing or having conversations about our collective thoughts on it. There is of course a very specific flavor of comments I never respond. I also don't respond to people who read my works in a way that are antithetical to what I wrote. 1) I believe in the readers write to interpret work however they want without backlash from the author 2) It pisses me off.

6. Angstiest Ending?

I think the closest I got to an angsty ending was probably atlas. It's not even a bad ending, it's just heavy because you know that it doesn't actually resolve the misery they're experiencing in the world. Love doesn't fix their problems (mental, or physical) but it does create a safe space where they don't have to be alone in them. It makes me a little sad whenever I read it, at least.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

I think just go for it absolutely has the happiest ending. They fuck inside a club bathroom and then scamper off to their shared door room after drunkingly asking each other to be boyfriends. c'mon.

8. Do you get hate?

I feel like what I get is worse than hate, frankly. That being said the worse I ever got to actual hate was someone was being weird about my choice of making Peter trans in one of my works. They very earnestly asked what the narrative point of making him trans was/they didn't understand after reading the work and it really ticked me off. There isn't a narrative point of being trans! Some people are just trans, jackass.

9. Do you write smut?

Recreationally.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't! I think they're kinda cheesy and not my thing. I did have an entire fully fleshed out crackship with a high school friend about Thor/Jason Todd though so take my judgement with a grain of salt lol.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! Someone uploaded the golden dildo on wattpad and man, was it not well received lmao.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No! It's one of my fic author white whale goals. I would be incredibly flattered.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

@primewritessmut shared a google doc with me and helped write the ending and several sections to personal space which I think absolutely counts. I also consider ever beta I've worked with a coauthor to my work as they do contribute so much tonally and also sometimes literally to the work.

14. All time favorite ship?

I don't think I have a favorite ship. I more have favorite dynamics that I look for in media and then enjoy because it fulfills that specific itch that I am constantly looking for more replicas of.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hundreds. Googledocs is like a graveyard for WIPs. There's like, two, at least that I would really like to post someday but like, we'll see.

16. Writing strengths?

I am really good at writing action scenes in a way that translates to me being good at writing porn. I think I'm just good at writing about the intersection of bodies in violent and erotic ways. Also dialogue.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

b-plots! I also prioritize character interaction over plot in general. My betas have all collectively told me that I don't describe the scenery enough and they're right. Though I think I've improved on that since starting to have my work regularly beta'd.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I feel like I've seen it done SOOO badly that I'm not sure if I've ever seen it done well unless it's a fantasy language. I just think a lot of people really do not understand the flow or linguistics of a language so their representation of it comes across racist at worst or ignorant at best. I speak enough of a couple languages to know when people don't speak the language at all and so it's kind of a universal turn off for me. Unless the writer actually speaks the language. Otherwise, I really think....it's kind of in poor taste? Or if you do it, you should really put some thought and care into how you're having these characters speak and whether you're indulging in racist characterictures or stereotypes about that culture.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Warrior Cats. I had a very popular crack fic that I abandoned at 14 because people were pressuring me for updates and I just couldn't handle it.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

atlas. I just think it's the work I read and think "I'm a good writer. What I have to say is important. I should keep on writing."

tagging: @puzzled-on-main @primewritessmut @radishingaround @farmhandler @waterme-stories @devilbearingtrouble @thistleraven and anyone else who wants to

[could-have-beens]

miss maam,,, could i ask for some gin n tonic headcanons of yours??? could be from tlocc or just in general. i just love the way you capture and portray their dynamics haha

im prev anon (about gin n tonic) i just realized i didnt know your pronouns!!! sorry that i presumed it!! aaa so sorry about the miss maam part

Thank you so much! I'm happy to hear you like their dynamic in TLOCC! Ginny and Tom's relationship is such a joy to write, and it means a lot that you enjoy reading about them. And no worries, I use she/her 😊

As for headcanons, that's pretty much most of the fic. Why and how Tom opened the Chamber, his dynamic with the other students, how his fear of death began, Ginny dealing with the aftermath of COS, what her interactions with the diary was like, to name a few.

Here are some other headcanons I haven't had the chance to include in TLOCC:

Ginny is a foot shorter than Tom. It was the first thing she noticed about him. Height difference, my beloved ❤️

She's also the shortest person in their year. When Tom found out she was actually older than him, he almost made a joke about her height

But he didn't, because he knew she'd immediately retaliate and roast him without hesitation. While he doesn't mind how tall he is, he can't stand it when people point it out. No, he's not insecure, what the hell are you talking about

Ginny knows more about Tom than she realizes. The diary was honest with her about the little things, like his favorite drink, his fondness for Transfiguration, how much he dislikes the cold, stuff like that. But after everything that went down in COS, Ginny naturally assumed everything the diary told her was a lie and tried to forget about it. For her, Tom's most humanizing moments are seeing those half-forgotten details with her own eyes

Tom covers up his accent by imitating Alphard's. No one knows this but Margot, who only noticed it when she became seatmates with Alphard

Tom dislikes Quidditch, but he likes flying. If it wasn't for Abraxas, Tom would have tried out, if only to see if he was any good at it

Ginny and the diary bonded over their love of flying (and inability to afford their own broom) and magical creatures

Her experience with the diary made her resistant to Legilimency and the Imperius Curse. If you pit her against a more experienced wizard than Tom, she'd have a harder time fighting them, but it's not unlikely she'll be able to throw them off with enough practice

Tom is a natural Legilimens. Not like Queenie in FB (which isn't how I imagine Legilimency at all btw), but in that he's more sensitive to what people are thinking/feeling. It's why he's able to learn how to read people's minds relatively quickly, and why he reacts to Ginny the way he does when they first met

He's surprisingly good with animals, but only with snakes and magical creatures. Ginny strongly suspects Fawkes likes him better than her, and it irks her to no end

Their duel in the Chamber is Tom's first actual duel. The closest he'd ever come to dueling is his practice runs with Margot

He hasn't found his fighting style yet, so he just throws every spell he knows while trying to imitate Dumbledore, Ginny, and other people he admires looks up to tolerates

Remember the whole love triangle story Tom came up with? He got the idea from Margot, who made an offhand joke about Alphard possibly liking Ginny because he stared at her so much after they met. Tom encouraged the idea primarily to mess with Alphard, not Ginny.

Because Tom knows Alphard isn't romantically interested in her. He knows that. But Walburga? Abraxas? Briseis? They sure don't, and Tom knows Alphard isn't going to tell them. Joke's on him though, because look how that turned out

What Tom finds most frustrating about Ginny is how oblivious she is to the impact she has, how little she cares about the image she projects. On the flipside, his hyperawareness about his image, how much he cares about the impact he has on people, is what Ginny hates most about him (besides the whole, you know, Voldemort thing)

Not saying this is going to happen in the story, but assuming they're all alive and getting along post-Hogwarts (aka fics of my fic that I'll never write lol):

Tom briefly works for Borgin and Burkes. Ginny, jobless and not sure what to do with herself, goes and bugs him during his shifts. He pretends to hate it

She never calls him Tom, but she called him Thomas for a whole month, in retaliation for that one time he tried to call her Ginevra

He'll never admit it on the pain of death, but Tom goes to Dumbledore for Ginny-related advice

Ginny and Alphard meet up and get drunk every other weekend, with Tom tagging along as the designated sober friend (boyfriend? chaperone? Alphard knows better than to ask whatever the hell is going on with Ginny and Tom)

At some point, Alphard complains about his family's matchmaking attempts and half-seriously goes fuck it, I'm gonna travel the world to get them off my back. Ginny points out that it won't solve anything, they're still going to badger him about getting married. Alphard, drunk out of his mind, realizes that yes, you're right, we should get married right now, that'll show 'em. Ginny, also drunk out of her mind, agrees. Tom, wishing he was drunk out of his mind, is too busy fuming to convincingly talk them out of it

"What do you mean this is a bad idea? Name one good reason why we shouldn't — why're you twitching?"

Eventually, Ginny remembers that she's supposed to be a half-blood, and that the Blacks would rather have their line die out than marry anyone who wasn't pure-blood. Tom is livid that this, THIS is what stops her from Apparating with Alphard to the altar

Ginny and Alphard laugh about the whole thing the next day. Tom doesn't talk to them for a week

Alphard ends up going on his world tour and signs his letters to Ginny with stuff like "to my dearest bride" "from your handsome fiancee." Tom threatens to murder him every time

The last letter Alphard ever sends to Ginny is signed "my beloved widow"

Ginny also decides to travel, but not with Tom or Alphard or anyone. She checks in on them regularly, sends them souvenirs, but she never asks them to go with her. Tom isn't bitter about it, of course not, why would you even suggest —

Dumbledore insists on monthly family dinners with Ginny, Tom, and Aberforth. It's the most mortifying thing, but Ginny grows to love it, as much as she acts otherwise. Tom has . . . conflicted feelings about it all

Ginny goes to therapy. Tom also goes to therapy. They all go to therapy

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 6: Fan

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[masterlist]

 “And that’s how you cook rice,” Kita says as he puts the pot in the rice cooker. You nod, embarrassed. You settle back on the floor. hiding your face from the two boys as they talk about how their friends. Osamu’s phone starts ringing so he answers it and a loud voice speaks.

“Bro! (Y/N) really lives with Shinsuke?” The caller says in awe so you look at Osamu. He turns the camera to you and you wave your hands, mouthing a hi. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!”

“Aran, calm down. You act like it’s your first time meeting a celebrity,” Osamu tells the person on the line.

“I can talk to him if he wants to,” you offer to Osamu which Aran hears loud and clear. You hear him shuffle around before Osamu gives you the phone. You greet him with a smile, forgetting about the rice incident. “Hello, Aran-san. Is that right?”

“Yes. I’m a big fan! Actually my whole team is! We watch your vlogs on our breaks,” Aran rambles, making you smile. Interacting with fans is something that helps you cope up with your stress, and knowing that you got a group of athletes as your fans, makes you feel overwhelmed, but in a good way.

“Really? It’s nice to hear that you enjoy my videos. I’ll upload more content soon,” you reply, the smile not leaving your face.

“Who are you talking to?” You hear someone ask from the background.

“(Y/N),” Aran replies excitedly.

“You might have gone crazy,” the other man replies.

“No! I’m serious! Look!” Aran flips his phone to who he’s with, revealing you on the screen. You awkwardly bow then wave.

“It is her! How did you-? Does she have a fan event or something! Hello, (Y/N). I just finished watching the vlog you uploaded yesterday,” the man tells you, coming in close to the camera. “I’m Gao!”

“Hi, Gao-san! It’s nice meeting you!” You greet him cheerfully and the three of you continue to talk.

Kita and Osamu just watch you talk to them. They feels like an online fan signing is happening in front of them. The two of them continue to talk on their own. Minutes later, Osamu hears the rice cooker’s alarm go off so he stands up and gets the rice, leaving you and Kita alone on the table.

You are still talking to the boys, which have now turned into a whole team.  Kita observes you carefully. The way you smile on the phone as if they’re really in front you is making him feel weird inside. And you’re really listening to what they’re saying, which is making that already weird feeling even weirder.

‘Am I becoming a fan?’ Kita asks himself, unsure of what he’s feeling.

“The rice is here,” Osamu announces as he puts the pot at the side.

“I have to leave now,” you tell the men in front of you. “It was fun talking to all of you. And I promise to go to one of your games one day. Bye!” You wave at the phone. You hear a chorus of good byes before you end it. You give the phone back to Osamu, apologizing to him for using his phone.

“It’s okay. You seemed like you were enjoying talking to them,” he remarks, sitting across you.

“Yeah. I love talking to fans,” you say confidently, smiling at Osamu. And there is it again, the weird feeling Kita is new to.

‘Maybe I am becoming a fan,’ he tells himself, getting rice from the pot. “How much rice do you want?” Kita suddenly asks you. Your mind short circuits from his question. It’s not a big deal and even back home, someone does it for you but since Kita is the one doing it the rice feels extra special.

“I think that’s enough,” you answer as he shows you the bowl of rice. He hands it to you and you accept it with both of your hands.

The three of you eat and talk. You ask them questions about their friendship, and you learn that Kita used to play volleyball. You also find out that Kita stopped studying after high school so he can provide for his grandmother. The more you know about him, the more you start to like him despite being the complete opposite of your ideal type.

You see Osamu out while Kita offers to do the dishes. As Osamu’s car leaves,  you hear a dog bark. You look around the parking area, searching for the source of sound. You spot white fur by the bushes so you slowly approach it. Suddenly, a small white dog jumps on you, making you yelp in surprise. After you’ve regained composure, you properly hold the dog.

“Hi, there, little...” You lift him up and check its genital. “Boy. You’re a little boy. Are you lost?” You nuzzle your nose on its nose, shaking the dogs body slowly. You take a better look at him.

He has a puffy long coat which is snowy white, but his ears are grey. He has amber eyes and a very smiley face. He looks like an extra tiny fox. He’s small so you assume that he’s a puppy. You look for a collar or any tag, but you don’t see any. You can’t say that it’s Kita’s neighbor’s dog, because he doesn’t have one. The closest house to his is at least a 5 minute drive.

You stare at him intently, wondering why he looks familiar. Then you finally know who he looks like.

“You look like, Kita,” you coo, bopping its nose. It licks your nose in return so you giggle. “Want to meet Kita?” He barks in response, which you take as a yes. You carry him inside excitedly, not taking in mind about Kita’s reaction to the strange furry animal.

You finally step in the kitchen where Kita is and you proudly show him your new found friend. Kita drops the fork he was washing, totally frozen on his spot. Why are you carrying a dog in his house? Where did you even get that dog?

“What’s that?” Kita asks you, picking up the fork he dropped.

“It’s a dog!” You answer with a proud smile. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Where did you get that thing?” He looks so horrified and grossed out. If anything, he’s ready to throw the dog out of his house.

“I saw him outside. He doesn’t have a collar or any tag on so I brought him inside,” you reply with an innocent tone so he takes a deep breath in.

“What makes you think you can just bring any animal in my house?” His voice is louder than a while ago so you frown. “Bring it back to wherever you found it.”

“No! Look at him! He’s so small! What if a car runs over it?” You gasp, hugging the dog even tighter. Kita looks at you in disgust.

“That’s his destiny,” he remarks but you ignore him. “This is my house, you know. And I don’t want animals in here.” You and the dog stare at him with puppy eyes but he just gags. “You take it out of my house now.”

“But-”

“No more buts. My house, my rules,” he tells you firmly, but you don’t back down.

“Can we let him stay inside just for tonight? I promise I’ll find him a home by tomorrow!” You beg him.

“Nope.”

“Please, Kita!”

“No.”

“Please. Please. Please. Pretty please.”

“Still no.”

“It’s just for tonight. Right, boy?” You ask the puppy and he barks. “See? He’s a good boy.” Kita groans, defeated. You’re even more persistent than the twins, and those two are tenacious as hell.

“Fine. As long as it doesn’t make a mess and noise, he can stay. Just for tonight. I’ll be the one bringing him to the compound tomorrow,” Kita finally agrees but you don’t like his idea.

“Compound? No! I’ll find him a good home myself,” you argue once again. Kita sharply looks at you, but you don’t seem moved or afraid by it. “I’m searching for a home now.” You put the dog on the ground and run to your room to post a picture of him online.

The furry animal and Kita stare at each other for a long time. “Why does he look like someone I know?” Kita questions, tilting his head to the side. The dog mirrors his action. “Osamu when he had grey hair? Or that guy from MSBY?”

“I’ve found a name for him!” You shout, sliding your feet back to the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to look for an owner, not a name,” Kita snaps at you. You ignore his words and pick the dog up and stretch your arms towards Kita’s direction, presenting him the dog.

“Rice. Let’s name him Rice,” you state and he turns around, completely in disagreement with your plans. You put Rice down and move closer to Kita. “It’s a cute name! It suits him. He even looks like you! Rice is just the most suitable name.” Kita grimaces at how you compared him to a dog.

“You’ve only been here for a few hours, and in that few hours you’ve made porridge and brought a strange dog in.” Kita faces you, the distance between the two of you small but safe.

“I’m sorry...” You lower your head, frowning. You hear him sigh so you look back up anxiously.

“I’ll go to the vet tomorrow and see if he’s chipped and has an owner. If he doesn’t, he can stay here. But you need to take care of him,” Kita tells you, giving in to your pleads. ‘Why do I feel like I have a child?’

Out of excitement, you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him. Once you’ve realized what you’ve done, you pull away from him then run back to your room, Rice following you.

“Why did I do that?” You groan, your face buried on your pillow. Rice barks and you see him sit across you. You smile widely, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you remember the hug again. “He’s so warm!” You squeal like a teenage girl. You start rolling on the floor, muffling your squeals and shrieks on the pillow. “He smells even better up close.”

Meanwhile, Kita is back to washing the dishes, but is completely distracted. He can’t stop thinking about your hug. The thought of your hug turns into a smile. Then, it becomes your voice. After that, it’s your face. ‘She’s cute.’ He finds himself smiling while washing the dishes.

He finally realizes what the weird feeling is.

‘Do I like her?’

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

Facts:

Dogs noses are wet to help absorb scent chemicals

Three dogs survived the Titanic sinking

Pomeranians weren’t always so little. They used to weigh as much as 20 to 30 pounds before being bred down in size by Queen Victoria of England.

Despite their small stature, they are famous for thinking they can take on big dogs with their little bark. This makes socializing a Pomeranian with other dogs important in order to avoid aggressive behavior.

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Taglist:  @vicassa  @ptv-hades  @steggy4ever  @booklover240  @toripersonalacc @mkazuyuh  @smoltiddygf  @adrasteiaxandromedaa @leinnah  @a-applepi @kellesvt @xxlightsaberxx  @youpieceofwasabi @bandolls @wheelzzzies @apollochjld @sakusa-simp @neomuxuxi @aquzairus @ynjimenez @sempiternal-amour  @tnu-ree @mindofess @alittlebitofrain @agaashesmilktea​ @aquzairus @ynjimenez @sempiternal-amour @diyosku @dinablossom @atomicpie1115 @lililiynx @onlyshinji @melodiamore @bunnybitesthedust @angrylittleriri

[lisxdumbr]

GOOD DAY LIS !! I am sorry this has been around a week late, please tell me how could I make it up to you </3 Stuff became busy in school sooo :'> I did typed my responses for a total of an hour too... I apologize for you to type such a lengthy response <//3 but if you did enjoyed doing so, then that is fine ♪ I'd def love to see your previous themes!! but it would be quite troublesome to ask of you that now, so maybe in the future when it crosses your mind once more! I love love LEMON SQUASH CHEERS too, to think that you've made a theme based on that... <3 !! OHH so it's THEM.... it's nnatsume :0 hehe, it makes me quite the curious being after hearing your praises about their prev themes... For now, I'll imagine it as the safest option :> About the gallery thing too, yeaahhh... i would find myself saving pictures for "future use" and then it gets buried </3 Why I think Yuuta is the moon is that he is the quiet one in 2wink (the vibes), but if we think about it... Him and Hinata can interchange between the sun and moon because they function as 2wink, as the sun and moon compliments each other. The following words mightt not be accurate as I do not hold much of a great understanding about them, however I'd still let you know! Hinata is supposedly the one who works in the dark (as the moon) to give shine to Yuuta (as the sun), for Yuu is Hina's sun, the one whom he cares much that even if he becomes insignificant, at least Yuuta can continue to shine. On the other hand, Hina's bright nature makes Yuu thinks he must be the sun, always working hard and excitable about things, when he, Yuuta, seems to feel that he must do something to shine together with Hina and not stay at his zone, selfishly basking in the light of the sun that makes him glow. The 2winkversary is a pleasant read, go insane however you like, you know we would honestly enjoy it either way~

I tend to stray away from unpleasant things in the internet as much as possible, so hearing these stuff that new enstarries have done…. there's much more to uncover, huh? There's so much too in Tiktok, which is common knowledge already. I understand the gatekeeping stuff, it kinda becomes meh when many people like it… like it spreads and gets liked by people who should be out the fandom… This is the reality of things, unfortunately.. The ratio of the unsafe fics to the fluff ones is like,, 8:2. I thought the tag would contain more sfw but OKayy… my expectations crashed so hard after seeing the consecutive unsafe ones. "Help me jesus 0(-(" no words better than this to describe it. ALSO anon lore, because this is significant. Admittedly, I'm one of the new enstarries… I had quite a few immatureness back then due to the magic of misinformation, but I'm now on the track of improving (hopefully). There's this huge eichi cancelling thing which, until now does not stop ? That matter is like a mystery case to me. I got quite immersed in understanding his character, and I guess it's fun to misprove misphrased and poorly researched info that spreads around. I came in the investigation room disliking eichi, I came out of it thinking and felling (this is a reference to that one meme textpost) that I possibly relate to him a bit. That's all, I believe ! This has to be said, because… I ain't here for too long yet. That one post that goes, "liking a media at the right time".. I wish to see that golden era, yanno? But maybe, even if things stands how it is now, there is still hope. You could say, moments are beautiful because they don't last forever, but I personally can't say anything to it yanno;; Speaking of which ! I have plans on bringing a bit of peace on the tag, though I can't say myself if I could actually do so. I just thought that it's interesting to try my hand at writing </3 The idea scares me, however it is wonderful if you think about it. I'll do my best to shorten this ask response (which isn't really happening) ♪ Yuuta bug protector Lis.. omg !! that is such a cute motivation… I am so impressed ??!?!? he's just like me… AND PLEASEE tell me about the fun fact about scorpions!! I guess talking about most insects are alright, except the dreaded and terrifying butterflies-but-in-their-baby-phase. (i aint gonna say the word. but generally, it's the W**m word… help me. ) The only thing I could say to you is that I only knew monster high, but vaguely and only the popular characters through their appearances. I haven't gotten the chance to watch them before, since we had no cable TVs ;; djdgfkjgdfdk I'm happy to know bout Skelita either way, it makes me think what if things were different, what words would i had spoken to you instead? !! so ! about the final project ideas, let me send that in another ask <3 I always have to remind myself that gacha can return later, so focus on saving up for events first… I am so sorry to the fallen soldiers (spent dias) we have deployed in the battlefield (gacha pulls)… One day, they will be avenged <33 yes, tw stars is like kr stars too. i just dont know if en server will follow through their system because.. why is en server's ribbon shop not including outfits (they're event point locked instead).. my tw server dias are alive and breathing again ! "Noir Neige my beloved and the ultimatum of my insanity"… I love your words so much…. It is the ultimatum of insanity.. omg.. I grinded Ritsu out of objectiveness and spite (to Rei)… He is here with me.. in taiwan server.. I'll prepare a tea party♪

Fun fact, I never really had many ritsus.. But he comes home easily, what a good boy. MAY YOU GET MEOW MEOW RITSU !! that card is so cute… myon myon! It's so hilarious when you think of your friends getting your oshis instead of you. God help us. Being an EccentricsP will never be just a be phase to me.. it is eternal ;; and Thank you for the wishes !! <3 if rei would dare to show up in my pulls, he should prepare x100 amount of apologies for the mental damage pulling for him cost me. that $%&^*#$@#!!! hmff. also kidnapping your yuuta services are free of charge, with tape in the mouth and all ♪

That concludes my response !! please enjoy this plentiful amount of dish, i have to serve my final project ideas as the dessert <3 You don't have to reply to this all to save time ( i reassure you!) and just read this like newspaper so we can have new messages if that's fine with you! , like the gacha part,, & if you have nothing to say ! Conserve your energy for better things !! Once again, I enjoy reading through your responses, they're so ??!??! respectful, even if there is conflict, you know how to take it in a way that isn't harsh. i love that for you. See you~ I don't have to mention the valkatsuki collab, fine halloween and modelgumi story in here, but ya know those ones(so golden!), might mention in a fresh ask.

— 🌻.

HELLOOO SUNFLOWER. I apologize for taking so many days to reply </3 I understand your struggle, school is just. Clenches fists. But it's ok !! You're not forced to reply or anything, so this is already an act of kindness from your side <3 ok, let's see

I would love to show you my themes, I promise I will scroll down my gallery to see if I have any screenshot, even if they're poor quality,, (I hope I find at least some themes) and yes <3 my friends are so cool, but I don't want to talk about the past too much because I'll get nostalgic and cry ahwbfjejd (im not ok)

ALSO, WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT YUTA??? you're so right, I love the little analysis you made. They're an eclipse, maybe that's why Hinata is the day and Yuta is the sunset.. I may love them too much, falls to my knees.

Yes, I was actually thinking about the new community just today, I feel really burnout from these people lately. I miss my friends, I miss the tiny place we held but, you know, "0(-("

Omg anon lore, I kinda imagined it 👀 I recognize patterns of speech (I talked about this before actually) and I indeed didn't recognize yours from old anons from enst community. Immaturities are ok, as long as we learn from them and regret them. I remember I was very furious with TikTok (idk why I'm talking in past, I hate them) because of the misinfo they were spreading on purpose and the canceling issues. If you believe that you should cancel Eichi instead of understanding the moral value and greyness of his character, maybe enstars isn't for you...? Akira wouldn't like them either.

That being said, welcome! Eichi is permanently canceled, this has been going on since the game first came out tbh, don't worry too much about it. AND PLSSS YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME. I'll use this as a confession since ik most followers don't read my anon interactions so ! I am actually a silly Eichi kin (low-key) I remember I didn't like him much at first and then I was like "he's ok" and then I read checkmate and I was like "h- ..hhh-" and yeah, mecore.

Your message is really heartwarming, yes, moments are beautiful because they don't last forever, and I cherish those moments like anything in the world. That made me happy, the happiest, and sometimes I wish I could go back and express my gratitude much more often. They say you don't appreciate things until you loose them, and that's how I feel sometimes. I hope this golden day returns to us one day, maybe it'll be different, a different form of it, but light still.

ALSOOO YOU WANT TO TRY WRITING? that's so cool, I wish you the best !!!! I could never honestly, writing intimidates me a lot but wahh, you're really brave about it.

ー・ー・ー ♡ ー・ー・ー

I love Yuu so much because he's such a scaredy cat <333 I love how. He's the type of teen to go "I'm so mature, I'm not a kid anymore, I'm an adult >:(" and then behaves like a child because, he gets so scared, and so excited about the little things of life. AND I ADORE THAT ABOUT HIM, it's the best thing ever seeing him acting as a person his age in such a complete organic way, I just want him to enjoy the phase he's going on without having to worry about being "stronger" or "more mature" because that gets him to feel bad about himself and deprecate sometimes and it's aughhhh :(((( let him enjoy things and have fears, that doesn't make him less valid than the rest.

Ok so the fun fact about scorpions is that. well, you know hoe there are little scorpions? Because there are the big ones and then the little ones, we have a different name for the small ones, alacranes or alacrán in singular. Well, when one of them stings you, you can later on feel when one is around because your, wound..? will start beating, like a presence. It's kind of dreadful but useful if you don't want to. be attacked. (I understand your fear towards the other insects, they're. yeah 0(-( )

I'm glad you know MH !! I saw it literally being created (I was a child when the first 3 dolls came out and I fell in love ever since) and ! Yeah I never watched through cable TV. I remember I saw the webshow in YouTube and then I bought the pirate movies in the market and played them in the DVD <33 good times. I miss the goth aesthetic they had so much.

I'm glad your savings are good again !! I have. 900 dia in JP and I'm thinking If I should grind for that Kohaku because ahaH crazy:bP here. I want him. I missed my bees, 8 months without seeing my beloved :( (because I will not count USA). Please let this be a signal for me getting kitten Ritsu. I haven't gotten anything from the free pulls so 🙏🙏 being EccentricsP is the best feeling ever, I hope you continue to enjoy them ! (And pls read Secret Labyrinth I'm insane over them)

I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY AND LIFE !!! people do tend to say I talk in a respectful way even when I disagree with things, I see that as an advantage <3 have a good one !

[tooruluv]

Kozume Kenma x F!Reader x Tetsurou Kuroo ( part 5 )

❝ i’m right here, when are you going to realize that i’m your cure, heartbreak girl? ❞

description: kozume kenma didn’t know the exact day in which he realized that he was in love with you. he knew very well that it was sometime after your first “hello”, but the exact moment got whisked away in the many memories that included you. the problem was, though, that you were in love with and in a serious relationship with the boy he claimed as a best friend.

genre: angst, pining, unrequited love, (characters are aged up as the story continues)

word count: 1.5k

warnings/notes: swearing, all of the characters are aged up in this one, everyone is staring university !! i am so sorry for the short part, i wanted to update this. it’s a filler chapter for next part (which is pretty long and i havent even written all of it yet)

prev | next

“ i fell in your arms tonight ”

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Kozume Kenma hadn’t seen nor heard from you in a while. 

After the beach house, it was graduation. And that was it. He had watched you from afar at Nekoma’s graduation, had adored you in that gorgeous dress that you wore for pictures. 

With the third years gone and both of you starting your last year of high school, neither of you had a reason to see each other. Kenma didn’t play his last year of volleyball, instead opted to watch from the stands and focus on starting to stream his gaming.

You were focusing on your finals and entrance exams, and on occasion visited Kuroo at his university. He was rooming with Bokuto, so it was a two in one deal when you went. They were happy to sneak you in to stay the night, too.

It was as if when Kuroo left, there was a wall built between your friendship.

Kenma’s online popularity grew quite rapidly. It was almost overwhelming how incredibly fast he had a following, how quickly people rushed to his streams and asked for his socials.

He didn’t mind. He liked to game; and honestly, a lot of their advice helped him beat levels. 

It wasn’t something that he wanted to have as a career, which is why he applied to university as a business major. As much as he loved gaming, it wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to do more.

While streaming one day after school, one of his followers had asked him “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Kenma read the comment out loud, rolling his eyes, “I don’t think that matters.”

The mystery of his personal life made him gain even more popularity, it seemed.

You set the coffee down on the edge of the table, rolling your shoulders. 

You had been studying for hours when Keiji Akaashi arrived to sit in front of you. It was kind of random, your friendship with him. He was Bokuto’s best friend, and you were Bokuto’s best friend’s girlfriend. It was like having a cousin you kind of knew but not really.

Either way, Akaashi had become your saving grace since starting your final year. 

“We have a volleyball game tomorrow.” Akaashi said as he handed you a bagel. “You should come, support the team.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I would love to.” 

You found Koutarou Bokuto at the game, sporting old gear and his famous smile. It was incredibly different to find him in the stands instead of on the court.

“If it isn’t Bokuto himself.” You smiled as you stood next to him. He searched for only a second to find you, pushing you playfully with his hand. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “I thought you didn’t watch our games.”

“Akaashi invited me.” You offered him a sip of your concessions soda. He accepted.

“I’m excited to see Hinata.” He handed you your drink back, even though he drank most of it. “His quick attack has only improved.”

“You’re not wrong.” You chuckled. 

Bokuto put his arm around your shoulder and cheered as they announced the starting line up, happily exclaiming for his best friend. You cheered, too. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for telling Kuroo about Kenma.” He told you in a low voice. Despite the loud cheers, you heard him. 

“It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“That’s hurtful.” He started to move his arm from your shoulders, but you put your hand on his to keep it in place. 

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” You said. “I haven’t even talked to Kenma, and I haven’t had a fight with Kuroo since. I was just saying.. I shouldn’t have burdened you with that big of a secret.”

“I am an awful secret keeper.”

You laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

Kozume Kenma watched from a distance. He was wearing one of Hinata’s hoodies in an attempt to blend into the Karasuno side. 

Hinata had invited him to their game. He had no idea that he would find you in the crowd. You never went to your own games.

Kenma bit the inside of his mouth.

In all truth, you missed Kenma.

It didn’t matter how awkward it would be. It didn’t matter how much guilt you resided in your rejection. You missed him. You missed going to him for little things. You missed sitting on his beanbag and watching him play whatever game he was playing that day. You missed late night phone calls and facetimes. You missed meeting up at the asscrack of dawn to get ramen while the entire world was still asleep. You missed your head in his lap. You missed him.

You missed your best friend.

And, in truth, he missed you too.

He missed everything about you. He missed your smell, how sweet you always seemed to smell even in the early mornings. He missed how he didn’t mind your touch. He missed your smile. He even missed when you would complain about Kuroo to him. He missed you.

As his best friend’s girlfriend or not. In love with you or not. You were his best friend, and he missed you.

Kozume Kenma’s streams were the highlight of his day. Without Kuroo’s everyday nagging, he didn’t spend a lot of time talking to others. His social stats were at their lowest.

Streaming was his main form of communication. He loved talking to his followers and fans, thanking them for their subs and reading comments.

His username was “applepi”, which was what he always used for his user for everything. With that, his fans called him “pi”. It was ugly as shit but it was better than “cat boy” or some bullshit pet name.

They knew his actual name, too, and he told them that once he started university, he would also post a face reveal and start streaming with a facecam. It was a strategy and also a fun way to create some mystery as to who he was. 

hey pi, when do u start uni ?? someone had asked.

Kenma, who was playing and trying to read some of the flooding comments at the same time, replied, “When do I start university? In two weeks. I got accepted into my first choice, so that’s pretty exciting. I’m sure you all will be patiently waiting for my facecam.”

A new rush of comments rolled in, congratulating him on his acceptance and excitement for his face reveal. 

His mind was still on you at the volleyball game.

Turns out, you got accepted into the same university as Kenma.

You didn’t know it at the time, of course, because you had no idea which one he wanted to go to. But you did.

Kuroo, Bokuto, Kenma, and you would all be going to the same school. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking. You had to stop your hands from shaking as you packed your bags.

You were a bundle of nerves.

You wondered if that was what Kenma felt like before he told you that he loved you. If that was the same feeling.

As you packed, you found Kuroo’s old red hoodie that he told you to keep when he saved you from your parents at the beginning of your relationship.

It had been over a year since then, you reminded yourself.

Knocking interrupted Kozume Kenma, making him jump slightly in his chair. He hadn’t started his daily stream yet, he had only just started to set up, so he headed to the door.

Of all the things he was expecting, he was not expecting to see you standing on his doorstep. He was not expecting to find your eyes on his, rimmed in tears and redness, and he feared that he was imagining the sight in front of him.

“Hi.” He said against the silence. 

“Me and Kuroo broke up.” You said as a greeting. 

Kenma didn’t have a second thought before he stepped aside to let you in. He didn’t think before tweeting to his followers that he would not be streaming that day. He didn’t think before pulling you into his arms and allowing you to cry against his chest.

Because love does a lot of things, but it doesn’t go away with mere silence.

tag list: @elianetsantana @sazunari @jennasquishy8 @chao01248 @alysken @cinnamonruts @paradisebabey @kikikittykis @yatoatyourservice​