#Adding a new emoji for the sake of one bit is my go-to move

[mcelroyfamilystaff]

Throwback to that time Amanda was traveling for work and the rest of us got obsessed with the weird house owned by the founder of Yankee Candle and things went a little off the rails.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[lyranova]

Can I ask yamichar + 🗣? Hugs from your secret admirer 👀💕

100 Follower Event!

Ooh a secret admirer anon 👀! Hehe Of course you can~! So this emoji actually meant ‘pillow talk’ because I couldn’t find a pillow emoji i had to use one for the ‘talk’ part lmao! I hope you like this anon I had fun writing it 🥺💕!

Word Count: 1,012

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

———

It was late, really late. Yami knew he should be sleeping right now but he couldn’t, his mind was too active. He had found out today he was going to be a father, and the thought made him nervous beyond belief. Sure he took care of the kids in his squad and some even said he was basically a father figure to them. But this was different than being a ‘father figure’ to someone, he was actually going to be someone's father! Yami had been excited at first when Charlotte told him the news, he could see the excitement in her eyes and how bright her smile was just thinking about becoming a mother. After she had told him he wrapped his arms around her, swept her up into a passionate kiss, and one thing led to another.

That's how they both ended up here in bed, naked, and slightly tired. Usually Yami would fall asleep by now after one of their usual late night sessions. But not tonight it seemed. He softly played with the loose strands of Charlotte's blonde hair as his mind went over the thought of being a father, over, and over, and over again.

“ Yami,” He jumped as he heard his wife’s voice, it was slightly laced in sleep, she must’ve just woken up. “ Why aren’t you asleep?” She asked before cracking a blue eye open slightly, Yami chuckled before moving a strand of hair out of her face and smiling at her.

“ Who says I wasn’t asleep before you woke up?” He asked teasingly, he watched a sleepy smirk form on her face before she opened her other eye.

“ Your breathing says that. I know when you’ve been asleep and just woke up from the way you breath, so I know you’ve been awake this entire time.” Charlotte muttered before moving her hand and rubbing the sleep out of her eye. She moved her head and rested it on Yami’s chest.

“ Of course you can tell by my breathing.” He muttered in irritation, he didn’t want her to know about his worries and doubts. He always wanted to be strong in her eyes. He glanced down and noticed her eyes narrow.

“ Yami.” She said threateningly, usually when she used that tone it meant he had better tell her or she would kick his ass three ways to sunday. He looked away and his hand moved down and rested on the small of her back, rubbing small circles onto her smooth skin. An internal battle raged in his mind, to tell her or not to tell her, that was the question. He sighed softly before looking back down at her.

“ Alright Prickly Princess don’t get your panties in a twist,” he sat up a little bit, Charlotte keeping her head on his chest, and he rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“ I’m...I’m nervous, about being a dad, about being a good dad.” Yami admitted softly, he watched his wife frown in confusion before she sat up fully, using the sheet to cover her chest.

“ What are you talking about Yami? You’re going to be a great dad!” She exclaimed in disbelief, how could he genuinely think he wouldn’t be a good dad?! She watched him with his squad, he would be an amazing, although very strict, dad!

“ Hm I dunno, I don’t really remember much about my own old man so I have no idea how to be a good dad.” He muttered lamely, he watched his wife’s frown deepen even more.

“ Yami, have you not seen yourself with the Black Bulls? You’re practically already a father!” Charlotte watched his face redden slightly.

“ Yeah but this is different-.” Yami began to argue before Charlotte placed a finger against his lips to silence him.

“ How is it different? You’ll do anything for your squad like you would our child right? You’ll love them, you’ll protect them, and you’ll make sure they’re able to push past their limits. So, what’s exactly the difference?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. Yami blinked at the blonde, she had a good point, what really was the difference other than this child would be biologically related to him and the woman he loved most?

“ Heh. Y’know Prickly Princess you’re right. I guess there isn’t really a difference after all.” He agreed with a small nod, Charlotte nodded before she bit her bottom lip.

“ It’s ok to be nervous just for the sake of being nervous you know, I may not seem like it, but I’m nervous too.” She admitted with a soft laugh. “ But I know everything will be ok, because I have you with me. As long as we stay by each other's side there isn’t anything to fear.” She leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips, which he reciprocated with a small smile of his own.

“ Besides, you’re going to be the most amazing father there ever was. Our baby is very lucky to have you as their father.” She added with a small laugh, Yami shook his head before he laid back down and pulled her into his arms.

“ Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He told her before leaning forward and gently kissing her, he placed a hand onto her cheek and gently rubbed it with his thumb. “ Thank you.” He said softly causing her frown to return to her face.

“ For what?” She asked him in confusion.

“ For everything. For coming into my life, for marrying me, and for being the mother to our child. I couldn’t imagine being on this journey with anyone else.” He kissed her again and rested his forehead against hers, he saw a faint tinge of pink grace her pale cheeks.

“ Me either Yami. Me either.”

The couple fell asleep in each other’s embrace, they would tell their respective squads the news tomorrow and they would need all the rest they could get.

———

I hope you like this anon I’m sorry if it isn’t very good 😅. But i hope you all enjoyed anyway and thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day 🥰~!

[ineffable-snowman]

Partners, accidentally (a SamBucky fic)

Link to AO3

“So when is your boyfriend coming back?” Mrs. T asked him while she bagged his groceries.

Sam sighed softly. Mrs. T had always been forgetful but since the Blip she got even more things confused.

“He won’t be coming back,” Sam told her gently. “He wasn’t blipped. He just – died. Before.”

“I’m not talking about Richard. I mean the confused white one with the leather jacket, what’s his name? Richard was, what, decades ago? You can’t still be mourning for him, dear. You need to give your new relationship a chance. And he seems such a sweet guy, wouldn’t be fair to him to still be hung up on an old love.”

“Oh. You mean Steve.” Out of politeness, Sam refrained from pointing out that the name had been Riley, not Richard, and that it had been twelve years, not decades ago. “I’m afraid he isn’t coming back either. He… moved on. Found someone else.” He shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

“Mm, his loss. But you seem to be doing pretty well yourself.” She winked at him.

“Thanks. I mean, it definitely is a challenging role but I’m getting used to it. I hope.” He chuckled. “And in case I let it get to my head, I can always come back here.”

“That you sure can.” Mrs. T added five of the toffees with the shiny candy wrapper to the bag, the sweets she used to give him when he had been a kid. “Say hello to Sarah and the kids. And tell your boyfriend just to ask for help next time if he doesn’t find an item from his shopping list – and not sneak around my shop like a thief. I can tell you, I was this close to calling Elliot for help.”

It was this description (much more accurate than such a sweet guy) that made Sam finally realise who she was talking about.

“Oh. No.” He laughed. “Bucky is not-”

“I know, I just didn’t recognise him at first. He was wearing sunglasses and black gloves – gloves in the middle of the summer, really? Seemed a bit suspicious. But then he explained who he was before I could get my baseball bat.”

Sam grinned. He would have liked to see Mrs. T chase Bucky out of her shop. Sounded like a good story he could tease Bucky with.

“I’ll make sure to tell him to act like a normal human being next time,” he said, still grinning.

***

It was only later that the implications of Mrs. T’s words fully sunk in. There was of course the implied relationship between him and Bucky, but those kind of things happened, that people mistook someone for a couple who weren’t. But apparently Bucky had “explained who he was” to Mrs. T, and Sam could not help but wonder what his exact words had been. Bucky’s tentative “partners” came to mind – shit. Had Sam accidentally turned him down by describing them as “co-workers” instead? That had definitely not been his intention. And what a shitty way to turn someone down it would be! Someone who had just bared his heart to Sam and – no. It couldn’t be. That moment with Mrs. T when Bucky had “explained who he was” must have happened later. So what exactly had he said? What exactly did he think they were? Did Bucky consider them boyfriends? You could never know with that cyborg brain of his but it would actually explain so much. How the staring had turned into smiles, all the casual touches, them spending time outside of missions…

Sam felt completely out of his depths. Was he in a relationship without knowing it? And how did he find out without making a complete fool of himself? He could just go for the trial-and-error method and kiss Bucky next time they met. If Bucky kissed him back, he would know without revealing his cluelessness. If Bucky punched him in the face, he would know, too. Sounded like a foolproof plan. It was just that Sam Wilson did not go around simply kissing people just like that.

So he asked Sarah. He was careful with his wording.

“Do you think Bucky is a good boyfriend?” Not ‘would make a good boyfriend’. Because if Sarah found out that she knew before Sam that he and Bucky were in a relationship, he would never hear the end of it.

Sarah hummed. “Why are you asking? Did something happen?”

“Just looking for…another perspective…on this.”

“Sam, you’ve never been someone who’s blinded by love. I mean, you wrote a pros and cons list when Riley asked you out. Still can’t believe he still wanted to date you after that, by the way. So what’s going on now? You want to take the next step and need more pros on your list?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Shit, she totally thought they were dating. And maybe they were. And Sam had no idea what “the next step” was in Sarah’s mind. Moving in together? Proposing?

“Use your words, Sam,” Sarah said.

It was the first useful advice. “Hey, let’s talk about this later, okay? I need to find out a few more things before I make a decision.” Because it did not matter what Mrs. T or Sarah thought the next step was. He needed to make sure he and Bucky were on the same page about this, no matter if it was about a first date or an anniversary.

are we partners?, he texted Bucky.

For the first time ever, Bucky texted him back in less than a minute.

something come up? where are you?

at sarah’s and everything’s fine. just thinking about some stuff

are you ok???

yes

Sam sighed. He had had enough with all this miscommunication. They were grown-up people, for God’s sake. Time for a direct approach.

are we partners in a professional or in a romantic sense?

Bucky did not answer for several long, long minutes. He was online, sometimes shown to be typing but never sending a reply. After four maddening minutes like this, Sam texted:

or both?

Then he panicked and did something extremely stupid: he added a grinning emoji. So much about grownup communication. Immediately, he wanted to delete his message but Bucky had already read it.

Finally, there was a reply:

both

And five grinning emojis, which did not clear up anything. They really should not discuss this via text messaging.

i’m coming to NY on friday. do you want to meet up?

are you asking me on a date? Again with the grinning emojis.

There was no way to end this conversation in a dignified manner, so Sam just texted truthfully:

not sure

***

It was too long until Friday and yet, when Friday arrived, Sam was not ready for it. He wished the utterly boring meeting with the mayor had taken longer but there really wasn’t much to discuss. So here he was, waiting nervously in front of New York City Hall if Bucky was going to stand him up.

He didn’t. Just on time, Bucky arrived on his motorbike, looking more badass than a 107 year old man had any right to look, in his black leather jacket, black jeans and sunglasses when he sauntered towards Sam.

“Hi.” He flashed Sam a grin, came towards him, lifted a hand –

Right, looked like they were dating, so they were really doing this, Sam took a deep breath, leant forward – and his nose collided painfully with Bucky’s chin.

Bucky grimaced and took off his sunglasses, which sat askew on his nose after that disastrous greeting. So no dating. Bucky had gone in for a hug, not a kiss. Sam should have brought his wings. If there ever was a time to just fly away from an awkward situation before he could make even more of an idiot of himself it was now.

But then Bucky said, “Didn’t know if I should bring you flowers,” and at these words something eased inside Sam. Whatever this weird situation was, Bucky did not seem intent on making it weirder between them, and Sam was sure they were going to be fine.

He gave Bucky a relieved grin. “I’m allergic to most flowers, so I’m really grateful you didn’t.”

“Okay, noted. So, uh.” Bucky looked at him inquisitively, a little crease appearing between his brows (and Sam’s fingers itched to wipe it away). “I wasn’t sure if AJ and Cass had hacked your phone and were messing around with me. Or with you. Both of us. But I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

Sam shrugged apologetically. “No, that was all me. Can’t blame it on the boys, unfortunately.” Then he realised what Bucky had just said, that he didn’t want to blow his chance. It gave Sam the courage to carry on. “There’s really no way to ask this without sounding weird but… Are we dating?”

“You were the one who asked me on this… date, not-date, whatever. You should know.”

“I don’t mean right now, I mean more generally, as in…are we in a relationship?”

Bucky stared at him. “There’s definitely a lot about 21st century dating, sex, relationships that confuses me but I’m pretty sure I would’ve realised if we were dating.”

“Okay, good.” Sam did not know whether to be relieved that at least they were on the same page about this, or disappointed that they were not dating after all.

“So, people have been talking?” Bucky cocked his head. He was still staring, as if he was trying to read Sam’s mind.

“Everyone in Delacroix thinks we’re a couple. Even Sarah.”

“That a problem?”

“Not exactly. Would’ve just been weird to be in a relationship and be the last one to find out about it, you know?”

Bucky snorted. “If it’s any consolation, it’s news to me, too.” He considered Sam for a moment, never once blinking. “Doesn’t mean I’m opposed to it.”

Huh. Sam did not know what to make of this nonchalant and yet so monumental comment. “Uh. Let’s walk a bit?” He needed time to digest this information. And also he preferred to not discuss his relationship status in front of New York City Hall.

Bucky nodded and so they strolled through the adjoining park. It was easier to talk like this than when Bucky was standing in front of him and staring him down.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind it either,” Sam finally said because it felt like it was his turn to assure Bucky that the feeling was mutual.

“Ah. Alright.” Bucky was silent for some time but then he said, “People will think what they think. Might as well go along with it.”

“At this point just going along with it is probably easier than trying to explain to them that we’re not dating.” Sam chanced a sideways glance at Bucky, caught his eye and found him grinning.

“Yup. I mean, if even your sister is convinced, she’s probably right.”

“So we’re doing this.”

“Fine with me.”

“Great.”

They exchanged another glance, both grinning. They might walk a little faster, with a spring in their step, but nothing else had changed.

“Just one thing,” Sam said. “If anyone asks us when and how we got together, we’re not going to tell them it happened like this. Because that’s just too embarrassing. I’m Captain America, I can’t have that.”

“You mean we need a cover-up story?”

“An anniversary.”

Bucky was still grinning but then he got that manic look in his eyes that told Sam that he was about to do something very risky and very stupid.

“How about when you saved me from that truck in Germany?”

Sam stopped dead. “No way. Please don’t tell me that got you hot. Seriously, Buck.”

“Nah.” Bucky shrugged. “Not in that situation anyway, that was just adrenaline and it was mostly painful, the way your knee kept hitting me everywhere. But, you know. Thinking back on it. Or imagining it happening again…”

“Jesus.” Sam made a mental note to educate Bucky on the safe, sane and consensual part of sex, emphasis on safe and sane. “Just for your information, if you get yourself under a truck on purpose, I won’t save you again.” Because it had been uncomfortable and not to mention potentially life-threatening. Still. There was something to be said about imagining it. Sam swooping in to gracefully save Bucky from a dangerous situation, them being pressed so close to each other, Bucky telling him in a low and breathless voice, “Nice job, Cap,” and then something about wanting to thank him –

“No, that’s definitely not when we started dating,” Sam insisted, heat creeping up his neck. “I can’t remember a day when you were more annoying and that’s counting the day when you jumped onto my car and ripped my steering wheel out.”

“Then what’s your suggestion for our anniversary? I need to know so I can buy you plastic flowers.”

Sam could not help but laugh. What a dork. Now he knew Bucky was going to buy him the most hideous plastic flowers ever. “When you came to Louisiana to help fix the boat. That one at least makes sense.”

“I don’t know. There were some witnesses who saw me passed out on Sarah’s couch. Not much happening that night for me.”

“The next morning then. When you came to the boat and…” Sam remembered it all too clearly. The early morning light, their hushed voices, every word seemingly too much in that small, quiet place. “I wanted to kiss you then,” he admitted. Everything about Bucky had been so soft that morning, his hair, his eyes, his shirt, his words. Now Sam’s heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he wondered if Bucky could hear it with his supersoldier senses.

“I would have liked that,” Bucky said softly. Gone was the grin. Bucky was giving him such an open, earnest look that made Sam’s heart speed up even more but at the same time, it calmed him down.

All he managed in response was “good” and a (probably giddy) smile.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Bucky asked.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d got your head out of your ass yet.” Or if it was reciprocated.

One corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up in self-deprecation. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. But…”

“No witnesses there who could refute that we hooked up on that boat.”

“We totally hooked up there.”

“And it was, uh… great?”

“Definitely was.”

Again they were stupidly grinning at each other and Sam was amazed how much he liked the crinkles around Bucky’s eyes when he did that.

“If someone asks for details…” Sam could hardly believe his own nerve because this was not something Sam Wilson did but somehow – contrary to first (and second) impressions – everything was easy with Bucky. “Well. I should know what to say.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Or you could just not say anything? God, that’s really not something that other people need to know, it’s personal, what is wrong with people, what happened to don’t kiss and tell?”

“So you’re going to be old school about it?” As long as it did not involve plastic flowers, Sam would be able to put up with it. He had experience with centenarian supersoldiers after all.

“Well, I am old. But other than that, it’s just decent human behaviour. Still can’t believe you asked me out via text messaging, by the way.”

Bucky was scowling, and because Sam could do it now, he placed his thumb against the crease between Bucky’s brows and tried to smooth it out. Bucky lightly swatted his hand away and rolled his eyes again.

“What would you have preferred?” Sam said. “A seaside rendezvous with a picnic? A candlelight dinner?”

Bucky’s frown only deepened and Sam could practically hear the cyborg gears start to turn and rattle. “Did you just say we should have sex?”

So he had figured it out, finally. “Your place isn’t far, is it?”

“I don’t even have a bed. And no, it’s bad enough that you think flirting via text messages is okay but when I make love to you for the first time, it’s not gonna be on the floor, that’s for sure.”

Sam did not know what to say to that. His chest had constricted at Bucky’s word and he really wanted to kiss that frown away but they should probably first discuss how comfortable they were with public displays of affection. In a direct and open way. Because no matter how much Sam enjoyed making fun of Bucky, it was not fair to leave Bucky always guessing and confused when it came to their relationship.

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat because that word had come out a bit croaked. “Not sure how you feel about it and it’s totally fine if you want to do it differently but you’re a supersoldier, so.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Doing it standing up, against a wall – shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve just never.” He gestured vaguely and Sam silently waited for him to finish his sentence, trying to broadcast that he would accept whatever was going to come next. Never had sex? Never had sex with a man?

“I mean,” Bucky finally said, waving his hands some more but he kept looking at Sam, not trying to hide any of his vulnerability, and Sam once more thought how brave that man was. “I’ve never had sex in this body, only before. I don’t know, anything could happen.”

Sam nodded to show it was alright. “You know what? Let’s buy a bed first.” He tried to give Bucky a reassuring smile. “And then we can still decide if we want to find out what could happen.”

“Can I at least buy you dinner first?”

Sam’s heart was doing funny things again. “Sure. Any plans?”

“Do you know Sushi?”

Sam snorted. “Risky move. I’m a Wilson, I have opinions on seafood.” (Who was he kidding, he would let Bucky drag him to the cheapest sushi chain and stuff his face with half defrosted mock crab.)

“You’re really going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”

The comment was light-hearted enough and anyway, they had already established that it was Bucky, not Sam who insisted on dinner first. So they easily fell back into their usual back and forth. “I’m not letting you get away with that whole I’m a confused old man, that’s for sure,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged, an easy smirk playing around his lips. “Come on.” They started walking again, maybe a little closer than usually so their arms bumped together all the time. They didn’t necessarily need to hold hands here in New York but back in Delacroix where everyone was already under the impression that they were a couple…

“Hey, Buck?” Sam nudged him lightly. “It’s gonna be fine.”

[horansqueen]

It Feels Like Christmas - Part 6

It feels like Christmas Just like Christmas It feels like Christmas with you...

MASTERLIST 🎄

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hey guys, this story was nominated for Best Christmas Story so if you want to vote for me, please CLICK HERE! thank you! 

NIALL

I woke up the next day and stayed in bed for a little longer than usual. I was not sure what had happened between Mimi and I, and I also was not sure what was going to happen next. I had messaged her on the same night so she also had my number and had send a few Christmas emojis so she knew it was me. I hesitated but after a while, I changed her name in my phone and added the same emojis.

I closed my eyes again and tried to remember everything we had talked about together. After she left, I had realized a few things about Mimi, and the main one was that she was scared. She was scared of getting attached, she was scared of falling in love, she was scared of talking about herself, but most of all, she was scared of all these things because she was scared to be hurt and abandoned again. I had no idea how to show her it was possible for her to be loved and that not everyone in her life would leave, and it was bothering me. I kept thinking about it and about her and I was not sure why.

I knew making her see she could trust me was not going to be easy. After all, the parents who adopted her still took care of her and loved her and it didn't make her realize that she was worth it. She still lived in fear that they would disown her at some point and perhaps not going to see them much made her believe it would hurt her less when it would happen. I had no idea who her biological parents were, or why they couldn't take care of her anymore, but clearly they had no idea of the mess they made when they left her.

I finally got up and took a shower before dressing up and walking to the living room. I heard my mom working on something in the kitchen and smiled when I noticed a bunch of gifts under the tree. They were wrapped in white and red papers that fitted perfect with the decorations and it reminded me that I still had a few to wrap myself.

I thought about Mimi and how she told me she hated gifts, whether it was buying them, giving them, wrapping them but most of all, getting them, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of gift could make her change her mind? This was not a cheesy Christmas movie, I couldn't just search around, find her biological parents in only a few days, arrange a meeting for them to tell her that they always loved her and that they had been looking for her for years. I just couldn't find out what would make her open up, if not enough to let me in, at least enough to give herself a chance.

"Pet? Are you up?"

I got out of my thought and blinked a few times before walking up to her and  kissing her cheek gently. I started helping her put food on the table and prepared two cup of coffees, bringing them to the table as we started eating. We remained mostly silent but I could see her glance at me and after a while, she pushed her plate away and grabbed her cup.

"We should get some more gifts today." she pointed out, taking a sip of coffee and looking up at me. "If we're still going to that family Christmas party tomorrow night, I'm gonna need gifts, especially for the kids."

"These kids are spoiled, ma." I pointed out with a chuckle. "I know you love them like your own grandchildren, but trust me, they'll get plenty."

"I can 'spoil' who I want, can't I?" she pointed out with a bigger smile. "Until you give me grandchildren, at least."

"You already have a grandson." I just said, raising my eyebrows.

"Whom I love more than anything, but I was just curious if you planned to have a few of your own, that's all." she shrugged, taking an other sip and making me laugh, shaking my head.

"I don't know, I think I'm gonna focus on meeting the love of my life, first. Then we'll see."

"The love of your life," she repeated, putting her cup on the table. "Nothing less."

"Not gonna settle for nothing less." I added a little lower, sending her a fond smile.

And my heart skipped a beat when I realized I was thinking about Mimi.

---

The mall kept playing Christmas songs, there were kids running around the halls and laughing, we were surrounded by Christmas decorations and trees, and I couldn't help but smile at all of it. The main reason why I loved Christmas was because almost everyone seemed genuinely happy on that season. It didn't last all year long, and I wanted to make sure I enjoyed it as much as I could while it lasted.

I also knew not everyone was lucky or happy on Christmas and I always ended up volunteering for a special charity cause for a few weeks. It was not so much about the money, but more about the time giving that mattered and every year, I tried to find something new to do, or a new place to help. For the past few years, though, I tried to be involved with kids as much as I could, and I loved it more than I can explain. I had never shared that with anyone, though, and I didn't really want to. I could wait until my mom would be gone to volunteer this year anyway, after all, people need help all year around and not just on Christmas.

"We need a toy shop!"

I glanced at my mom and chuckled again before making my way through a mob of people waiting for Santa Claus and taking the next hall. We reached the end where a big toyshop was and I could tell my mom was excited to go. We searched through the toys placed everywhere and after a while, my mom turned to me.

"Find a few soft toys will you?" she asked, grabbing a small car with a remote control. "Dogs, mostly."

I chuckled and raised my eyebrows. "Okay mom." I agreed, taking a few steps back. "But don't buy that. The kids will be happy. but the parents will kill you."

I smiled more until I bumped my back against something. It made me turn around quickly and once again, my heart skipped a beat. Mimi had turned around exactly at the same time as me, and I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was an actual Christmas movie. Perhaps I should really try to find her parents, who knows?

"Mimi!"

I expected this to be a bit awkward on her side but the smile she sent me made me want to take her in my arms. It was big and real, and I could even swear her eyes were sparkling. Or it was the neon lights that reflected in them. Either way, they were pretty.

"I will start believing you're really following me!" she joked with a chuckle.

"If I was I'd be more subtle about it!" I laughed, making her raise her nose up in a grimace.

"Okay that's creepy." she let out with a smile, making me laugh even more. "So, what are you here for?"

"Oh, my mom likes to buy toys for my nephew and my cousins' kids." I explained with a shrug, pushing my hands in the pockets of my jeans. "We're seeing them tomorrow and she wants to make sure she's got enough gifts for everyone."

Mimi nodded slowly as a fond smile draw itself on her lips. She tilted her upper body slightly to look behind me and her smile got bigger before she waved shyly at my mom.

"You... really look like her." she pointed out as her eyes met mine again.

"I've heard." I chuckled but stopped when her smile faltered a bit. "Do you look like your mom, too?"

She sent me a frown and finally, her lips parted but nothing came out. It took her a few seconds before she finally closed her mouth and cleared her throat. "Uhm, well, physically, I look more like my dad. At least that's what people used to say when I was young." she answered, nibbling on her bottom lip and frowning again. "You're the first one who ever had the guts to ask me something about my real parents."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. I'm sorry I just-"

"No!" she cut me, her eyebrows raised up as my lips parted. "It's nice, actually. You know, I don't only have bad memories of them."

"Makes sense I mean, you spent thirteen years with them, so it makes sense." I replied, smiling gently at her.

Her eyes softened and she pressed her lips together before licking them. "You remember..." she whispered, making me smile more.

"Of course."

Of course I remembered what she said to me. Every single time we met, our conversations echoed in my head over and over again for hours after we parted. But I couldn't tell her that.

We remained in silence for half a minute before she smiled more and shook her head, letting out a small but shy laughter.

"What about you? What are you here for?"

"Uhm, you're gonna think it's stupid but, when I was young, I would always walk in that store and make a mental list of everything I wanted to buy ." she confessed before shaking her head slightly and closing her eyes. "But I always walked away with nothing because I had no money. I thought it was worth coming back and just, you know, buy everything I want. For the sake of it."

Her eyes met mine again and while they were closed, my smile had grown. "That's an amazing idea, Mimi. I was about to check the stuffies, if you want to."

She chuckled a bit but nodded and we walked together until we found a large stand of stuffies. She started touching them all, poking their nose gently or petting them as if they were real animals. It made me laugh a bit, endeared by her behavior, and I grabbed a few for my mom as I noticed Mimi grabbing one, too. It was a reindeer and she turned around to show it to me, raising her eyebrows.

"Would buying that be a good start for that 'Christmas magic' you always blab about?"

This time, I laughed louder, letting my head fall back slightly. "Yes!"

"Perfect, then it's a deal."

We walked back to the front of the store and we both paid before I turned around again to face her. I knew she was leaving and I didn't want her to leave. I wanted her to stay with me for as long as possible. She moved closer to me and licked her lips, placing her hand on my chest, over my coat, as I looked down at her. It took her a few seconds to look up and when our eyes met, she sent me a fond smile that made me smile too.

"You're always so nice to me, Niall." she admitted, biting her bottom lip. "Thank you."

"You're my magic, Mimi, remember?"

She chuckled and shook her head before getting on her tiptoes and kissing my cheek. "I'll see you around."

I watched her leave and suddenly, it hit me. If I wanted to see her again, I just had to ask. What was the worst that could happen? If I didn't try, I'd definitely regret it.

"Mimi!" I let out a bit too loud, making her turn around and raise her eyebrows again. "How about we do something tonight?"

She smiled more and took a step in my direction. "Like, a date?" she asked, shaking her head. "I told you I'm not looking for a man."

I smiled too and shrugged, my eyes never leaving hers. "As friends, if you prefer."

It took her a few seconds and she finally nodded and shrugged. "Alright, cool, call me."

[blu-archer]

Somethings Missing

Part 1 of the Flower shop and Bakery AU 

Snz [mild sneeze kink implied?]

No warnings. it’s cute.

Main Pairing: Jimin/Yoongi

Yoongi knew the day was going to be long and tiring as soon as he left Hoseok to man the shop so that he could sneak his morning dose of Jimin -  unfortunately only to find that his cheerful, gorgeous boyfriend had been replaced by Jungkook. The taller man had greeted Yoongi with a wide grin, turning even more amused at the sight of the pink carnation that Yoongi had snipped before leaving his store.

“I like you Yoongi, but Jimin has martial arts training and I’m not about to stand in the way of that.” Jungkook teased as he restocked the packaging in the shelves behind him for the baked goods and coffees.

Yoongi gave a light chuckle, leaning on the counter as he watched Jungkook work. “Funny. You’re early today, is Jimin in the back?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Just me today, Jin will probably come by at around 2 but other than that, I’m the only front man for the next day or two.” Upon seeing Yoongi’s face morph into one of confusion, Jungkook added. “Jimin called in sick this morning, it was really last minute so Jin wasn’t able to switch his schedule around enough to get here earlier than he can. I tried calling Jimin to see how he was, but he didn’t answer.” He took a big gulp of his coffee once the last of the packaging cups were in place. “I called Tae next and there is a high chance that Jimin is passed out and dosed up on cold medicine. Which is probably for the best. An upside of him getting sick really easily is that he at least knows how to take care of himself.”

At least Yoongi knew where he was, but that didn’t make him feel any better. 

He left Jungkook soon after that and tried to bury himself in work, but everything seemed to be small tasks that didn’t fully occupy his time. He sent a message to Jimin that he had worked on for half an hour, writing and then rewriting before he had just sent a simple text.

Y – ‘Heard you were sick, need me to stop by?’

It was annoying how little focus he had throughout the day because of Jimin’s absence. Hoseok even tried to distract him with random ‘Name this flower’ quizzes that he made up when he was bored, but nothing helped. He spent most of his day dragging around a big new load of bagged fertilizer and doing some low maintenance around the shop. That one flickering bulb was getting on his nerves and he was going to fix it whether it risked shocking him or not. 

It was close to 4 o’clock when he finally heard a message come through on his private phone. Yoongi didn’t even try to act cool about how he had scrambled for the device. Thankfully the only other person in the store was Hobi, and he seemed to be invested in restocking some gardening supplies.

~Mochi~-‘Hey, Sorry, I only looked at my phone now… It’s really not bad, I’m mostly sleeping it off. Tae should be home soon so you don’t need to stop by, I wouldn’t want to accidently get you sick too.

Without a seconds’ hesitation Yoongi replied.

Y-‘I wouldn’t mind, I missed you this morning. Jungkook thought I was trying to court him.’

He didn’t get an answer straight away and his presence was dragged away momentarily by the entry of a customer needing help with finding the right assortment of flowers for their spouse. Yoongi spent the next twenty minutes discussing flower meanings, arrangements and building a bouquet for the customer, it felt like an eternity before he got the chance to see the reply. And Jimin had sent a few in succession.

~Mochi~-‘He’s just jealous because no one wants to date him.  

~Mochi~-‘You should have seen him sulk that first week when we went to the arcades and art museum.

~Mochi~-‘It’s like the ideal date place for him apparently?

~Mochi~-‘But seriously, stopping by wouldn’t be worth your time. I was awake for maybe 2 hours – max, and it was more of a staring into space situation until I just went to sleep. You’d get bored.

~Mochi~-‘sleep is better than having to deal the mess this cold wants to make of me, anyway.’

Yoongi couldn’t help the small smile as he pictured what Jimin must look like right now, probably bundled up in his bed or the couch trying to fall asleep every second he could. 

He had seen Jimin with the after math of colds before and had definitely seen him with allergies – he had learnt the hard way that Jimin and roses didn’t mix well, and there was that one time that Hoseok had brought his sisters kitten to work when she was out of town and he had to care for it. Jimin had fallen in love with it despite having spent the rest of the day sneezing and rubbing at his puffy eyes to the point where Jin had had to send him home.

Yoongi loved seeing Jimin a mess, he loved seeing that his perfect, beautiful boyfriend was human and wasn’t in control of everything. Yoongi loved seeing Jimin unravel, and he had to admit – although he’d probably never say it out loud – even before they had gotten to be good friends Yoongi had found his attraction to Jimin’s prone natural loss of control to be over-powering. He had never thought he would see someone trying to catch their breath shakily from sneezing or to have that pink hue to their cheeks and nose, or anything related to that, attractive. Maybe it was because it was Jimin, but Yoongi could never really stop thinking about it.

Y-‘Can I video call you later? I want to make sure you’re still alive…’

Yoongi sat perched behind his front desk watching his phone, waiting for the next message, wondering if that had been the correct thing to type. 

On an upside it was nearing the end of the workday and he couldn’t be gladder. While he hadn’t done anything extremely productive, Yoongi felt drained. He often blamed that on Hoseok. That man had the power to absorb the energy source of his surrounding people, and unfortunately Yoongi was the one that spent the most time with him.

Speaking of... Yoongi hadn’t realised how quiet the store was until he could vaguely hear Hoseok’s loud laughter breaching through the walls. He must have gone next door for something while they had no customers. The younger seemed to be making a habit out of it, recently taking to the exchange of Jimin so that he could have sometime alone with Jungkook. Yoongi had tried to speak about what it was that was transpiring between the two, but Hoseok had merely shrugged him off and teased him about whatever recent thing he’d seen his boss do towards Jimin.

The laughter got louder until Hoseok burst through from the back, shaking his head at whatever had been said to him with a wide smile before handing Yoongi one of the large cups of coffee he was carrying.

“Thought you might need it. It’s getting quite chilly now.” Hoseok mused. “I have a feeling winter is going to hit hard.”

Yoongi thanked him, accepting any form of caffeine with gratefulness. Winter was definitely going to be a harsh one, Yoongi had thought it many times before especially in terms of his business, but a new concern had suddenly arisen. He’d have to look out more for Jimin. Maybe he could send him over some warmer jackets or hats to help keep him warm.

“Did anyone else come?”

“Not really, its’ been quiet.” Yoongi murmured, breathing in the warm steam. “We still have to organise that big delivery order for Friday, but we can do that tomorrow afternoon.”

Hoseok nodded, moving to sit down next to Yoongi behind the counter. “Jin said that we are in for a week or so of storms, so I don’t think we’ll have many clients these next couple of days.”

“Probably pick up a bit after wards..”

“Flowers are a good ‘Get Well Soon’ treat and with the weather we’ve been having I won’t be surprised if our sales increase after this next week.” Hoseok rambled. “Probably more deliveries than walk ins though. Are you going to send something to Jimin?”

Yoongi blinked. Should he? Jimin didn’t seem to want him to come by, but maybe if he just had the flowers delivered it may make him feel a bit better.. Yoongi was broken out of thought by the vibration of his phone, alerting him of an incoming call that Hoseok quickly reached over to hand to the older man despite Yoongi being closer to it.

~ Mochi ~

Hoseok looked away to hide his smile as he watched Yoongi’s expression soften. The elder took a breath before he answered hastily, unsure what the call would mean considering how he had thought Jimin had fallen asleep again.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Jimin answered roughly, holding the phone away from him as he tried clearing his throat before speaking again, still sounding quite heavily congested and tired. “I’m sorry it’s not a video call but… I look like shit right now. I haven’t showered and Tae has been sending me zombie emojis randomly all day, so this is the best I’m offering.”

Yoongi chuckled lightly, swirling his drink as if contemplating to drink it but making no moves to. ‘I’m sure you look beautiful, but if this is what you want then we can do this instead. You sound really hoarse, is it your throat that’s bothering you?”

“Throat. Head. Sinuses. Chest. The whole lot.” Jimin broke off to muffle a cough, sniffling miserably before he continued. “It kind of progressed rather quickly through the day, I seem to wake up with a new symptom every time I lie down. At least Tae is at the pharmacy now, so I should be getting something stronger in my system soon.”

“Take as many days as you need.” Yoongi advised softly. “This weather’s only getting worse, and if you have to come into work get Taehyung to drive you. Or call me, I’ll come fetch you.”  

Jimin hummed and Yoongi bit his lip as he heard the small sniffles through the line that Jimin was no doubt trying to manage quietly. He didn’t remember Jimin showing any signs of being unwell the day before but  from the sounds of it, this cold of his has burrowed in fast and deep. While Yoongi hoped that Jimin felt better in the next few days for his sake, he had a feeling that Jimin wasn’t going to kick it like everyone was planning for.

“And you need to dress warmly too.” Yoongi added, he could hear shuffling on Jimin’s side and another hum of agreement. Yoongi sipped his coffee, letting the caffeine he craved ease through him. “I can drop off-“

“Huh’imphshiew… Hih – Hih’inxgtsh’uh – Eh’INGXtshew! Sor-sorry, snf. Hih’ehNXgtshh!”

“Bless you..” Yoongi said, feeling his cheeks warm a bit at the interruption. Hoseok didn’t seem to be paying him any attention, so he allowed himself to flush lightly as he listened to Jimin succumb to another double-  this time a bit further away from the receiver, hearing the desperate thicker sniffles that he could no longer try to hide. “I was saying that I could drop off some warmer winter Jackets, but it really does seem like I was a bit too late to suggest it.”

Jimin tried to give a light laugh but his effort was lacking. Instead he excused himself for a moment and after a few seconds of loud tossing he could distantly hear Jimin blowing his nose.

“Sorry.” Jimin sniffled as he returned. “I left the tissues in the kitchen, just… Snf… Hih’iiTSHhew.. snf snf. Damnit!”

“Bless.” Yoongi’s brows pinched with concern at how thick Jimin’s speech had become. “I wish I could help you.. I know this might make you sneeze more but maybe you should take a shower, or a bath, let yourself soak and breathe in that hot steam.”

Jimin moaned lowly and Yoongi took a big scolding gulp of his coffee.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure how long I’m going to last here. I wanted to call now rather than later since I was awake, but this is just getting embarrassing. Snf.”

“This isn’t something to be embarrassed over... Now the time you and Jungkook decided to wear matching bunny onesies for Easter…  That you should be embarrassed about.” Yoongi teased and Hoseok tried to stifle his laughter as he glanced warmly at his boss, as if thanking him for reminding him of that fashion catastrophe.

“Hey!” The pout could be heard in Jimin’s tone. “Jin made us wear those, and even if I thought I was going to die of heat I made that outfit look cute.”

Yoongi hummed with amusement.

“I did.”

“Of course.” Yoongi agreed playfully. “I’m sure you had a line of suitors handing out their numbers for you.”

“Well, I got you.” Jimin said, coughing briefly away from the receiver.

Yoongi smiled. He had a point there. “Fair enough, glad I was the one to be chosen. It must have been a very difficult choice to sift through the offers.”

“You seem to make all of my choices easier.” Jimin replied softly, then made a disgruntled sound as if rethinking his words. “Forget I said that. This cold is making me loopy.”

Hoseok made a move to switch the open sign to close and gestured to Yoongi that he would start the cash up for the day seeing as they were unlikely to get any more customers in this final half an hour. Yoongi merely moved his chair over to give Hoseok more space to work behind the counter.

“It’s cute.” Yoongi murmured. “So besides sleeping, did you do anything today?”

Jimin sniffed. He had started to breathe heavily and Yoongi could only assume it was because of the youngers inability to breathe through his nose. “I heated some soup and uh… started watching a movie but that only lasted like -snf- fifteen minutes… What about you? Was the shop busy?”

“No, it was uneventful.” Yoongi sighed. “The cute boy next door wasn’t in for some reason.”

“Oh -snf- how boring for you. snf. I’m sure he missed you as much as you missed him.”

“You think?”

“I – Hih’eNGXshh snf.. snf.. ‘EhhiNGXtshew! Ugh… Yeah.” Jimin sighed tiredly, breaking out into harsh cough.

“Bless You.” Yoongi bit his lip. “I hate saying this because I really did miss you and I love speaking to you, but you should probably rest, or take a bath. Maybe a bowl of hot water and a towel over your head if you are too tired to bath. It could help just ease your breathing or something.”

He could barely make out the soft murmur of agreement that came from the younger, directly followed by the distance gurgling sound of nose blowing.

A moment later Jimin replied light heartedly. “Who knew Mr. Min could be so concerned and caring? This is a side I’d love to see more of.”

“Let me come check on you then.” Yoongi insisted.

“Yoongi…” Jimin sniffled and groaned. “I really don’t want to get you sick, Hoseok can’t man the shop alone when you have deliveries. I’ll be fine in a day.”

Yoongi really doubted it, but he would respect Jimin’s plea as far as he saw improvement. He could rely on Taehyung to make sure that his boyfriend didn’t die in a bundle of blankets and tissues, and Jin surely wouldn’t let the man return to work if he wasn’t well enough for it.

“Ah..” Jimin murmured quietly before briefly greeting someone away from the receiver. Yoongi could hear a faint reply but couldn’t make out the actual words.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Tae just got back and I’m already having medicine aggressively pointed at me.”

“Best you go then.” Yoongi laughed lightly. “Rest well, Minnie.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow… love you.”

Jimin hung up and Yoongi felt a warmth rush through his body at the unfamiliar mumbled words.

[ducktastic]

2020 Gameological Awards

Over on the Gameological Discord, we have an annual tradition of writing up our games of the year not as a ranked list but rather as answers to a series of prompts. Here are my personal choices for the year that was 2020.

Favorite Game of the Year

I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into Paradise Killer. I knew that I liked the vaporwave resort aesthetic from the game’s trailer and figured I was in for a Danganronpa-style murder mystery visual novel with an open-ended murder mystery at its core. Those assumptions were… half-right? The game definitely plays out like the exploration bits of Danganronpa set on the island from Myst but with far simpler puzzles. What I didn’t expect was to fall so deeply in love with the environment—its nooks and crannies, its millennia of lore, its brutalist overlap of idol worship, consumerism, and mass slaughter. It makes sense that the world of Paradise Killer is its strongest feature, since the cast of NPCs don’t really move around, leaving you alone with the world for the overwhelming majority of your experience as you bounce back and forth between digging around for clues and interrogating potential witnesses. And despite what the promo materials indicated, there IS a definitive solution to the crimes you’re brought in to investigate, the game just lets you make judgment based on whatever evidence you have at the time you’re ready to call it a day, so if you’re missing crucial evidence you might just make a compelling enough case for the wrong person and condemn them to eternal nonexistence. Am I happy with the truth at the end of the day? No, and neither is anybody else I’ve spoken to who completed the game, but we all were also completely enthralled the entire time and our dissatisfaction has less to do with the game and more to do with the ugly reality of humanity. I’ve always been of the mindset that “spoilers” are absolute garbage and that a story should be just as good whether you know the twist or not and any story that relies on surprising the audience with an unexpected reveal is not actually that good a story, but Paradise Killer is a game about piecing together your own version of events so I feel that it’s vital to the gameplay experience that people go in knowing as little as possible and gush all about it afterwards. Just trust me, if the game looks even remotely intriguing to you, go for it. I’ve had just as much fun talking about the game after I finished it with friends just getting started as I did actually solving its mysteries myself.

Best Single Player Game

I honestly missed out on the buzz for In Other Waters at launch, so I’m happy I had friends online talking it up as Black Friday sales were coming along. The minimal aesthetic of his underwater exploration game allows the focus to shift more naturally to the game’s stellar writing as a lone scientist goes off in search of her mentor and the secrets they were hiding on an alien world. It only took a few hours for me to become completely absorbed in this narrative and keep pushing forward into increasingly dangerous waters. In Other Waters might just be the best sci-fi story I experienced all year and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys sci-fi novels, regardless of their experience with video games.

Best Multiplayer Game

Look, we all know this year sucked. 2020 will absolutely be chronicled in history books as a fascinating and deeply depressing time in modern history where we all stayed inside by ourselves and missed our friends and family. It was lonely and it was bleak. Which is why it made my heart glow so much more warmly every time I got a letter from an honest-to-goodness real-life friend in Animal Crossing New Horizons. Knowing that they were playing the same game I was and hearing about their experiences and sending each other wacky hats or furniture, it lightened the days and made us feel that little bit more connected. Sure, when the game first launched we would actually take the time to visit one another’s islands, hang out, chat in real-time, and exchange gifts, but we all eventually got busy with Zoom calls, sourdough starters, and watching Birds of Prey twenty-two times. Still, sending letters was enough. It was and still is a touching little way to show that we’re here for one another, if not at the exact same time.

Favorite Ongoing Game

Zach Gage is one of my favorite game designers right now, and when I heard he was releasing a game called Good Sudoku I was sold sight unseen. The game as released was… fine. It’s sudoku and it’s pleasant, but it was also buggy and overheated my phone in a way I hadn’t seen since Ridiculous Fishing (also by Zach Gage) seven years ago. Thankfully, the most glaring bugs have been fixed and I can now enjoy popping in every day for some quick logic puzzle goodness. Daily ranked leaderboards keep me coming back again and again, the steady ramp of difficulty in the arcade and eternal modes means I can always chase the next dopamine rush of solving increasingly complex puzzles. It’s not a traditional “ongoing” game the way, say, Fortnite and Destiny are, but I’m happy to come back every day for sudoku goodness.

Didn't Click For Me

With Fortnite progressively losing me over the course of 2020, finalizing with my wholesale “never again” stance after Epic boss Tim Sweeney compared Fortnite demanding more money from Apple to the American Civil Rights movement (no, absolutely not), I dipped my toe into a number of new “battle pass”-style online arena types of games, and while Genshin Impact eventually got its hooks into me, Spellbreak absolutely did not. With graphics straight out of The Dragon Prince and the promise of a wide variety of magic combat skills to make your character your own, the game seemed awfully tempting, but my first few experiences were aimless and joyless, with no moment of clarity to make me understand why I should keep coming back. Maybe they’ll finesse the game some more in 2021, or a bunch of my friends will get hooked and lure me back, but for now I am a-okay deleting this waste of space on my Switch and PC.

"Oh Yeah, I Did Play That Didn't I?"

I remember being really excited for Murder By Numbers. Ace Attorney-style crime scene investigation visual novel with Picross puzzles for the evidence, art by the creators of Hatoful Boyfriend, and music by the composer of Ace Attorney itself?! Sounds like a dream come true. But the pixel-hunt nature of the crime scene investigations was more frustrating than fun, the picross puzzles were not particularly great, and the game came out literally a week before the entire world went into lockdown which makes it feel more like seven years ago than just earlier this year. I remember being marginally charmed by the game once it was in my hands, but as soon as my mind shifted to long-term self care, Murder By Numbers went from hot topic to cold case.

Most Unexpected Joy

I was looking forward to Fuser all year. As a dyed-in-the-wool DropMix stan, the prospect of a spiritual sequel to DropMix on all major digital platforms without any of the analogue components was tremendously exciting, and I knew I’d have a lot of fun making mixes by myself and posting them online for the world to hear. What I didn’t expect, however, was the online co-op mode to be such a blast! Up to four players take turns making 32 bars of mashups, starting with whatever the player before handed them and adding their own fingerprints on top. It sounds like it should just be a mess of cacophony, but every session I’ve played so far has been just the best dance party I’ve had all year, and everyone not currently in control of the decks (including an audience of spectators) can make special requests for what the DJ should spin and tap along with the beat to great super-sized emoji to show how much they’re enjoying the mix. Literally the only times my Apple Watch has ever warned me of my heightened heart rate have been the times I was positively bouncing in place rocking out to co-op freestyle play in Fuser.

Best Music

Only one video game this year had tunes that were so bumpable they were upgraded to my general “2020 jams” playlist alongside Jeff Rosenstock, Run the Jewels, and Phoebe Bridgers, and that game was Paradise Killer. 70% lo-fi chill beats to study/interrogate demons to, 20% gothic atmospheric bangers, 10% high-energy pop jazz, this soundtrack was just an absolute joy to swim around in both in and out of gameplay.

Favorite Game Encounter

It’s wild that in a landscape where games let me live out my wildest fantasies, the single moment that lit me up in a way that stood out to me more than any other was serving Neil the right drink in Coffee Talk. Over the course of the game, you serve a variety of hot drinks to humans, werewolves, vampires, orcs, and more, all while chatting with your customers and learning more about their lives and relationships. The most mysterious customer, though, is an alien life form who adopts the name Neil. They do not know what they want to drink and claim it doesn’t make a difference because they cannot taste it. Everybody else wants *something*. Neil is just ordering for the sake of fitting in and exploring the Earth experience. It’s only in the second playthrough that attentive baristas will figure out what to serve Neil, unlocking the “true” ending in the process. Seeing the typically stoic Neil actually emote when they tasted their special order drink? What an absolute treat that was.

Best Free DLC of the Year

It’s still only a couple of days old at the time I’m writing this, but Marvel’s Avengers just added Kate Bishop, aka Hawkeye, and THANK GOODNESS. Almost every character in the game at launch just smashed the endless waves of robot baddies with their fists and that looks exhausting and uncomfortable. Hawkeye (the game calls her Kate Bishop, but come on, she’s been Hawkeye in the comics for over 14 years, let’s show her some respect) uses A SWORD. FINALLY! Aside from that, I’m just having a blast shooting arrows all over the place. She and Ms Marvel are the most likable characters in the game so far, so I hope they keep adding more of the Young Avengers and Champions to the game, and if the recently announced slate of Marvel movies and tv shows are any indication (with America Chavez, Cassie Lang, and Riri Williams all coming soon to the MCU), that seems to be what Marvel is pushing for across all media

Most Accessible Game

Nintendo is, first and foremost, a toy company. They got their start in toys and cards long before video games was a thing, and they still do more tests to ensure their video game hardware is childproof than anybody else in the industry (remember how they made Switch cartridges “taste bad” so kids wouldn’t eat them?). This year, Nintendo got to rekindle some of their throwback, simplistic, toys-and-cards energy with Clubhouse Games: 51 Worldwide Classics, a Switch collection of timeless family-friendly games like Chess, Mancala, and Backgammon, along with “toy” versions of sports like baseball, boxing, and tennis for a virtual parlor room of pleasant time-wasters. The games were all presented with charming li’l explainers from anthropomorphic board game figurines, and the ability to play quick sessions of Spider Solitaire on the touch screen while I binged The Queen’s Gambit on Netflix made Clubhouse Games one of my most-played titles of the year. Plus, local play during socially-distant friend hangs was an excellent way to make us feel like we were much closer than we were physically allowed to be as friends knocked each other’s block off in the “toy boxing” version of Rock’em Sock’em Robots.

"Waiting for Game-dot"

I get that everyone loves Disco Elysium. I saw it on everyone’s year-end lists last year. I finally bought it with an Epic Games Store coupon this year. This year was a long enough slog of depressing post-apocalyptic drudgery, I didn’t want to explore a whole nother one in my leisure time. I’ll get to it… someday.

Game That Made Me Think

Holovista was an iPhone game I played over the course of two or three days based on the recommendation of some trusted colleagues on Twitter and oh my goodness was I glad that I played it. What starts as a chill vaporwave photography game steadily progresses into an exploration of psychological trauma, relationships with friends and family, and the baggage we carry with us from our pasts. In this exceptionally hard year, I badly needed this story about spending time alone with your personal demons and finding your way back to the people who love and support you. Just like with Journey and Gone Home, I walked away from Holovista feeling a rekindled appreciation for the people in my life.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eight

Previous Chapter Here

Warning: Language. NSFW. Unprotected sex (be careful guys)

Notes: Apologies this is a little (a lot) longer than planned, but hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chris knew this would more than likely be the last time he would see his friends for a while. The reshoots loomed ever closer, the knot in his stomach was getting tighter, and he was growing more and more unnerved at the prospect of what was lying ahead of him. He was determined to make the most of this night as much as he physically could.

He showered and made himself vaguely presentable, ignoring the navy Chanel sweater and trousers that had arrived earlier that morning and opting instead for a plain white tee and jeans. His favourite red belt made a special appearance. He began regretting his decision to allow his management team to redecorate his pad in order to make it “friendlier on the eye” as soon as he took stock of his open lounge. They’d shifted some of the furniture around, added some fresh flowers and balloons here and there, and taken down the photograph of a family trip to Disney that used to be hanging in the entrance hallway. There was also a distinctly sweet and fragrant smell of freesias wafting through the air. It smelled like Springtime and positivity. He hated it.

Just a few “unfiltered” photographs, they said. Nothing too intrusive of stressful. Now, however, they were looking to cover up the potential fall-out from his fling with Jenny after she’d helpfully announced the day before that she was starting divorce proceedings. Matt had taken to messaging him at half-hour intervals to remind him his house needed to be bustling with as many people as possible even if he didn’t know them all personally. He needed to look carefree, he was instructed, and unbothered by whatever may be going on in somebody else’s private life because it had nothing to do with him, right? Maybe flirt a little bit. Bring out the “big guns” and the Boston “bro” personality his fans loved to see. For God’s sake, just try to look as single as possible.

People weren’t due to start arriving until 7 but it didn’t stop Chris from drinking almost as soon as he had woken up, calling on Scott and a couple of his oldest pals to come and join him for some pre-party beers. 

“Woah.” said Gary, walking in closely behind Scott, carrying a crate of Budweiser. He rook one exaggerated sniff of the perfumed air surrounding him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we’d come to the wrong place!”

“Are we allowed to touch anything?” joked Scott, mocking him by tip-toeing in past the guys.

“Don’t ask. Just do whatever you like, please. I need it to at least feel like it’s still my home.” Chris scratched his head in disbelief. It looked more like something featured on the ‘gram of a would-be influencer than the home of a 30-something bachelor who had no time for soft furnishings and Feng Shui.

“Bro, it’s your birthday! You could at least look happy about it.”

Chris wasn’t drunk enough to muster much more than a half-smile at his brother at that point but figured a few more beers might encourage him to lighten up. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was about to follow the lads into his kitchen when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. If it was Matt bugging him one more time, he swore he’d throw the phone out of the window.

     Unknown 1.09pm

     Happy birthday sweetie. Can’t wait to see you again x

“Who’s that?” said Scott as he emerged from the kitchen, beer in hand.

Chris just shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Gradually as the hours passed by, a steady stream of people started making their presence known. Most parties Chris threw rarely went off as originally organised but he didn’t much care. It was always implied that his downtown apartment had an open-door policy when it came to friends and family turning up unannounced. Hell, many would stay for days at a time and he wouldn’t care. If he was holding a party or a game night, people could just show up whenever they felt like it even if Chris himself wasn’t awake or ready to greet them in person. 

The vibe soon started picking up and the music was louder now. Scott had made various playlists and was doing the duty of hosting people better than Chris, who had been glued to his phone on and off for most of the afternoon. More and more of his friends arrived with their partners and Chris would give them a bro-shake but pretty much leave them to it. It was...odd. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he was growing concerned that his brother wasn’t much enjoying his birthday celebrations. The table in the hallway was rife with gifts and cards, and the beer and alcohol levels were not in danger of diminishing any time soon. Chris had gone overboard on catered food but he himself had yet to touch anything. That was a danger sign, Scott thought. Last thing he needed was a drunk and melancholy actor on his hands this earlier in the evening. Thankfully, Chris perked up as soon as he saw his mom and Shanna arrive, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello darling. Happy birthday!” Lisa called out to him and embraced him in a typical motherly hug, all stretched arms and smiles, running her hand under his chin as he pulled away. “How is everything?”

“Yeh, all good. Thanks mom. You look great!” Chris moved in to kiss her on the cheek again before pulling back to allow Scott his turn. “Wow, Shan, I really didn’t think you could make that shade of yellow look even more grotesque but you did it!”

When she was sure Lisa couldn’t see her, Shanna flipped him the bird. Chris feigned offense before wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders and walking her towards the lounge. “Baby sis, you can’t be mean to me on my birthday.”

“Ugh...I really can’t handle you when I don’t have a drink in my hand.”

“Then let’s fix that!”

Chris shifted past a few friends, all greeting him and patting him on the back as he and his sister moved by. Several faces he didn’t recognise so Matt would be proud of him, he thought. “So, is Sarah travelling separate to you guys?” Chris asked, finally taking one of the wrapped boxed out of his mom’s hands.

“I think so. Do you want these in the fridge or in the pantry for later?” Lisa asked indicating the cupcakes she’d been asked to pick up on the way over.

“Um, just leave them there for now, it’s fine.”

Before he got a chance to speak to his mother again, it was too late. He watched as she was grabbed by Josh and his new girlfriend and started to make her way around her son’s oldest friends, greeting them all as though she hadn’t seen them in years. Shanna reappeared next to him, rifling through the bottles of vodka until she landed on her favourite. 

“Is Sarah not coming then?” Chris asked, more concerned this time than no one seemed to know exactly where she was.

“Not if you’re going to continue being a dick to her, she’s not.” Shanna turned around to Chris’s fridge and began perusing the selection of mixers. “Where’s the cranberry juice?”

“It’s inside the door.” He responded. Shanna couldn’t see for looking but finally located the carton of juice and poured a fraction of what she needed into the glass before topping it up with a very generous amount of vodka. “I was kind hoping to apologise to her in person actually. Is she still really upset? She hasn’t answered my texts.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, you were out of like, Chris. But yes, she’ll be here, I’m sure. I think she just had something to do first.”

Chris knew Shanna was hiding something from him. She was a terrible liar.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He grabbed the glass from her hands. “I am not looking after you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Scott reappeared alongside them, merrier than before and holding a small plate of food for Chris. “Why don’t you ‘mingle’ mingle? Your audience awaits, kind Sir.”

Just as Chris was about to protest, his phone vibrated again in his pocket.

Unknown 9.22pm

I hope you’re having a great time tonight. The party looks amazing! Can’t wait to catch up with you properly x

*

At some point around 10pm, Chris escaped. He retreated to his little hideout behind a tree that gave him a clear view of his property without the pressure of being spotted by anyone inside. His phone had buzzed a couple more times and he was now sure if was Jenny reaching out to him. She’d been leaving little heart emojis on some photographs that had already appeared online. He felt a little sick and just needed to get away from the crowds, now tipsier than he was, annoyingly. He took the cigarette he’d bunged from a friend and lit it, savouring the feeling. In that moment was possibly the calmest he’d felt all day.

“Who are you hiding from, birthday boy?” Chris knew it would be Scott who would find him eventually.

Chris shrugged. “No one. Just needed the air.”

“Yeh right. Mom knows you smoke by the way. No point hiding it now.” Scott took the cigarette and took a slow drag before handing it back to him. “Zach hates me smoking inside.”

“Is that why you started running?” Chris smirked.

“Running’s healthy. It’s all about balance.” Scott observed his brother for a moment. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all day. You’ve only had, what, three beers? That’s not like you.”

Chris shrugged unconvincingly, avoiding eye contact before his phone buzzed again. He quickly dove into his pocket to grab it but shifted uncomfortably when he saw who it was.

“Somebody’s keen.” Scott didn’t need to ask to know who it was. He could read his brother like a book. “Can’t believe she hasn’t got the message by now.” Scott continued to eye him, unsure of what was going through his head. “That’s not what’s got you down, is it? There’s nothing going on, is there?”

Chris glanced at his brother and shook his head. He knew he’d been caught out and at this point he was too tired to deny it. “I still haven’t heard from Sarah. I’ve tried apologising and it’s like she’s just ghosting me or something.”

“Stop being melodramatic. She lives with your sister. She’s not “ghosting” you, you dick.” His attempt to lighten the mood between them fell flat and he realised humour was going to be wasted on Chris this evening. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, what with Charlotte and work and everything. Just give her a break, OK? It’s a tricky think she’s trying to navigate here.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head slowly, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “I said she was being ungrateful.”

Scott sighed. “Well, that’ll explain it. Hey, remember when Shan was a teenager and she got all those letters out of the blue?” Chris nodded at the distant memory. “I think the one thing we need to keep in mind here, with Sarah, is that she chose to reach back. She’s doing things her way and no one is forcing her. That’s gotta be a positive, right?”

*

Sarah felt like an idiot. She had no one to blame but herself. She couldn’t even lean on Shanna for support right now and she didn’t want to disturb Audrey at this hour if she was mid-celebration with Michael. She threw her coat on the stand and stood in the hallway of her apartment, bag swinging low. She kicked off her shoes and took off her tights to feel the coolness of the floor on the soles of her feet. It was a small comfort. The text message was still showing on her phone that was grasped in her hand as if she hadn’t been staring at it for the past three hours.

Charlotte 7.52pm

I’m so sorry. I thought I could do this. Please forgive me.

Sarah had decided to arrive at the venue a little earlier than they’d agreed to meet. She didn’t know what she was planning on doing by deciding that but she just knew she couldn’t sit around the flat any longer, her stomach was tied in knots. She hadn’t eaten much of anything that day but claimed she was saving herself for the extensive catering Chris would no doubt have laid on now that his guest list had multiplied.

She had spent some time getting ready with Shanna and Lisa but left her hair and make-up quite simple figuring she could add to it on the way to the party later on. She didn’t want to make an unfair first impression on Charlotte. She knew she didn’t want to look like she was a party girl but equally so, she didn’t want to appear to have given too much thought to what she was wearing to meet her in the first place. She wanted to remain as casual as possible which was some kind of weird irony given what was taking place.

She managed to make a relatively quiet exit as Lisa was helping zip up the back of Shanna’s jumpsuit telling them she’d be there as soon as she could. They didn’t ask her any questions. She just left and got into the cab that was waiting for her around the corner. A little under fifteen minutes later, she was outside the bar, trying to regulate her breathing. Maybe Charlotte was already inside? Maybe she had had the exact same thought and was having one for courage before they met? That thought made her laugh a little. She opened the door and gave her name to the rep who proceeded to show her to a nice booth in the far corner. Charlotte hadn’t arrived after all but Sarah had a clear eye on the door, as much good as it did her.

She poured herself another glass and wiped at the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to crying over someone she had never met. She couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to assume everything would work out despite evidence to the contrary.

Everyone was right. She was a fool.

She heard the door go but couldn’t face seeing Shanna. She swiped at her face as much as she could, trying to remove any and all hints of her crying. Shanna told her once she was jealous of how she could cry without her skin getting all red and blotchy.

She clocked the time and realised it was perhaps a little too early for her to be coming home unless Scott had shoved her into a taxi, which wouldn’t have surprised her. Loud music and a free bar were Shan’s undoing. She composed herself and waiting for Shanna to appear in the doorway, worse for wear, but everything had gone silent. Sarah got up and walked out of the kitchen, not sure what to expect but certainly not expecting to find Chris stood with his back against the foot, keys dangling between his fingers. He seemed smaller somehow.

His expression briefly turned towards guilt when he noticed she had been crying. He made a move towards her before ultimately deciding against it, preferring to remain still in her hallway. He looked awkward which was a feat in itself for someone who always seemed so...cool, she thought. It didn’t last long, though, a steeliness soon returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” said Sarah diffusing the silence. She suddenly became hyper-aware she was in the Chanel dress he’d given her to wear for his birthday party, the party she should have been at hours ago but instead chose to blow off carelessly in favour of meeting somebody who really shouldn’t have mattered. Shit, she thought. She was a terrible friend. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I really don’t know wh-”

“-You know, I could have done with seeing you there, Sarah. It’s been a fucking terrible day, I’ve had my team hounding me over this Jenny bullshit and having my friends around me would have made all the difference.”

“I just,” she wasn’t sure where to go from here. He’d become so cold in the last few moments. She wasn’t really expecting it but knew she’d pushed her luck a little too much this evening. “I had something I needed to do first, and-”

“I don’t ask for much from my family but the one thing I do expect is that they turn up when they say they’re gonna turn up. You understand me? It’s my fuckin’ birthday after all and you couldn’t even manage that.” He moved past her, ignoring the tears now burning at the corners of her eyes.

“Alright Chris, you’ve made your point.” she whispered. The room felt too small and Chris looked like he’d grown a foot out of pure frustration. She just wanted to go to bed and forget this day ever happened or at least get Chris to leave so she could feel pathetic in peace.

She could detect a faint small of tobacco coming from his breath now he was standing closer to her. “What was so important that you couldn’t make it? Must have been amazing to blow us off like that and please don’t tell me it was Greg. I didn’t think you of all people would sack family off for some fuck you’re ambivalent about at best.”

She felt like a scolded child. Actually, no, it felt worse than that. It felt like he was picking at her, trying to get some kind of reaction out of her but what that reaction was, she didn’t know. She took a breath and calmed herself. Her hands were shaking. She was pretty sure he noticed now.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, as calmly as possible. “I’ve said I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, OK? Your family and friends were there and I was planning on dropping by.” She pleaded, her tone striving to be a little more even. She figured if she tried reasoning with him instead of pushing back it might allow them both to get out of this unscathed but he just scoffed.

“Dropping by? Well, gee, thank you for making me an afterthought, Sarah. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s not just you that’s had a crap night, OK?” She shouted before reigning herself in. She really didn’t want to fall out with him on top of everything else. “We all have shit to deal with. At least people turned up to see you. They care about you. They didn’t just leave you hanging around, wondering what you’d done wrong.”

Chris looked confused. He signed and placed his hands on his hips, unsure of what his next move would be. “What’s going on?”

She could feel herself tearing up again, her face getting hotter by the second. She hated crying in front of people and it invariably gave her a headache, one she’d most likely fail to overcome before bedtime. “I arranged to meet her this evening. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I’d seen her at least once but, um, she didn’t show.”

For once, Chris didn’t have any answers. If he had been thoughtful instead of the selfish asshole he recognised himself to be, he would have known to have shut his goddamn mouth. “Fuck, Sarah. I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” He took another step closer to her but she made no effort to react towards him. “You don’t deserve this.”

Sarah audibly scoffed. “Well, that’s a maybe. But hey, look, happy birthday! Looks like you were right all along! I’ll make sure to wrap it next time.”

“If I’d have known what you’ve been through today, I would have shut my mouth. You’re one of my best friends and I was just thinking of myself, like always.” He leaned against the doorframe and Sarah recognised how pathetic they both looked in that second.

“What kind of person do you have to be to reject someone twice?” Sarah whispered to herself more than anything. She gently banged her head against the doorframe in thought. She wasn’t looking for a response.

Silence passed between them for what felt like hours. They were good at being quiet around each other, neither feeling the need to dispel energy and not caring what the other was doing but this didn’t feel like those times before. She glanced across the doorway at him but didn’t recognise what was looking back at her so intently. He looked like he’d been suspended in motion and if it wasn’t for her tapping her foot on the wall behind her, she would have thought she had, too. Everything just seemed a little fuzzy now and there was a headache threatening her from behind her eyes.

Before she could move again, Chris had crossed what little space there was between them and went for her, his hands grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It was messy at first, their lips slightly out of line with each other and she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. He’d taken the breath straight from her, it felt like. The only thing she could do in that moment was to grab back at his hands that were holding her face but she didn’t feel like pulling them away. Not just yet. For the first time, she had some power over what was happening to her. She was tired of being a good person, being vulnerable for others to use whenever they felt like.

She felt his lips slowly move across hers, calmer now, while she stayed almost still in his grasp. She felt one hand leave her face and reappear on her lower back and he pulled her in to bring her closer. They must have occupied less than a square foot of space stood like this. Everything was silent apart from what Sarah assumed was her heart beating or perhaps that was his? She couldn’t separate them at this point, a perfect fit soon only disturbed by the shrill buzz from someone’s phone in their nearby vicinity.

“Fuck!” Chris whisper-shouted pulling away from her, biting his bottom lip. Sarah scrabbled around to find her bag in the hallway before signing when she saw who it was. She took a breath so as not to give the game away.

“Shan? No, it’s fine, honestly.” Chris could only hear one side of the conversation as she spoke on the phone but could instantly tell from Sarah’s inability to get a sentence out that Shanna was drunk and giving her the third degree. He wanted to grab the phone and smash it against the wall. “No, it’s no problem. Don’t worry, OK? Yes. Yes, I’ll see you in a bit. Alright. Bye, lovely.”

Sarah had turned away from Chris at this point and looked down at the phone in front of her. She pursed her lips, embarrassed that she could still feel him on her. She thought she might have been imagining things but that was definitely his hand gently touching her on her hip where he’d held her just moments ago. She turned around to face him but one look into his blue eyes and she felt like she was going to collapse on the floor. She was pretty sure he could feel her shaking but he kept his grip on her, trying to work out what she was thinking. She just shook her head slowly and in confusion at what transpired and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom hoping to get some privacy and some cold water on her face.

She didn’t get very far. Chris followed her and grabbed her wrist, swinging her back towards him until she crashed against him again, unsteady on her feet. There was no time to think before his lips were on hers again, harder than they were before. He had his arms around her waist and started walking her backwards towards...something, she couldn’t register what. 

She briefly resisted his movements but after a few steps or so he made do with the wall next to her bedroom doorway. He pressed her hards against it, his hands now back cupping her face. She could feel how hard he had become with the way he pushed his crotch into her in an attempt to keep her still against him. She knew she didn’t want to break away again, she was tired of fighting and was ready to let it just wash over her. She grabbed at his sweater with both fists and moaned into his kiss.

She shoved him until he felt his back meet the opposite wall. The groan that left him was nothing short of filthy and something inside her snapped when she felt his hands fist in her hair while the other slipped down to grip her ass. She felt him pull up the hem of her dress, his fingers gently skimming the back of her thighs. He grabbed at her just underneath her ass and pulled her against him harder than before until they lost their balance and she ended up on top of him as he slid down the wall and hit the hard wood floor beneath them. They’d have bruises tomorrow but they didn’t care.

He desperately grabbed at the hem of her dress again, this time to feel her soft skin between her thighs. Her skin was so smooth and not to the touch, he couldn’t bear it. She felt like she was on fire. He managed to pull her panties to one side but she felt them rip as she furiously gripped at the belt on his trousers. He worked out pretty quickly what she was trying to do and took over for them both to release himself as quickly as possible. In one move he placed her where he wanted her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up just in time to see the look of pleasure on her face as he entered her, perhaps harder than he had intended to but she didn’t seem to mind.

Her eyes closed. He could see the blush covering her skin and her neck and he reached out to pull her face back to him as he motioned for her to move on top of him. He filled her, thrusting into her as much as he could from this angle and briefly regretted not keeping them up against the wall. He knew it would be over in a matter of seconds at this rate. They were both struggling to feel something. Make something of this godawful day.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way she was moving. He felt her wavering slightly as he quickly approached his own release, her eyes open now and looking down at him. Their staggered breaths were the only sound filling the space. He was so close and he knew she would be too but he couldn’t ignore the look of fear growing apparent on her face. The glazed look in his eyes felt like electricity coursing through her veins. She didn’t know it could feel as exciting as it did to be encouraged along by him like this, his hands firm on her hips, gliding her up and down, keeping him firmly inside her. She had to look away and she began to move faster, slightly out of rhythm now, scraping her knees against the floor on either side of him, pain that only served to heighten the pleasure.

She could feel him throbbing inside her as his legs began to shake and his breathing quickened. The sound of them both hitting the floor over and over again only served to push her on even more against her better judgement. It was too late to stop now. They would just have to deal with the consequences another time.

He tried to hold off from his own orgasm for as long as possible. He wanted more than anything to see her hit her peak as he held her hips tighter and moved her so she could take him harder. One of her hands pushed back against the wall behind him in order to find purchase and it was this move that ultimately caused them both to hit the point of no return.

He didn’t know who came first but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, their breathing started to even out, their skin showing that unmistakable sheen of sweat that only sex could give. Without thinking, he wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked the strands of hair out of her face. He wanted her to look at him as she continued to get her breathing under control but her eyes were too tightly shut. He look scuffed up from their actions and his pupils were blown wide open. She couldn’t even imagine the state she was in. If he could have found a little strength to speak in that moment, he would have told her she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her look before. Perhaps wisely, he decided to save that for another time.

Oh fuck.

Sarah’s brain went into overdrive as she gradually came back to reality. Chris was trying to figure out what was going through her mind as he felt her slip off him and shuffle herself to the side, pulling the hem of her dress down in a rather redundant effort to protect her modesty. Her underwear was left wrapped around one ankle as she tried to move onto her knees to stand up. She wiped at her mouth with the side of her hand and in that moment, he thought she might start crying again.

“Fuck.” She rubbed her face with her hands. He didn’t think she meant for him to hear that. It was the last thing he thought he would hear her say. He made a grab for her hand but she avoided his grasp as she stood and, on shaky legs, walked back into the kitchen leaving him ruined on the floor against the wall, shaken in more ways than one.

She couldn’t register her surrounding. She felt like she was about to throw up. How could this have happened? How could she be so stupid?

She held herself as she contemplated all the things she would need to say to him to try and make this better. No words made sense in her mind and those that did, she could barely string together to form coherent sentences. She heard Chris enter the room behind her but he stopped just inside of the doorway seemingly as unable to speak as much as she was. This was bad, she thought. So fucking bad. She felt embarrassed when she eventually clocked his messed-up hair. He looked dazed by the whole thing. No doubt his back would be bearing the brunt of their heavy mistake.

she finally reached his eyes and was met with a shy smile and a look she didn’t quite recognise. Was it pity? Concern? Regret? All of the above most probably, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Sarah,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’m....” He took a couple of steps forwards, holding his hand out to reach her, offering what he thought would be some kind of solace.

“I think you need to get back to your party,” She said calmly, deflecting the situation, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sarah, please, I don’t want...”

“People are going to be wondered where you are, Chris. You should go.”

Chris tried to focus on her face in an attempt to find something there other than the shame she was failing to hide. He wished he could get to her but the space she was putting between them felt wider than the kitchen they were stuck in. Resigned, he bowed his head slowly and turned to leave half expecting, or possibly wanting, her to stop him.

*

[mosaicofdreamsanddragons]

Born of Denial (A Clone’s Tale)

Link on to this on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074746

His first memories was of the leftover destruction that had once been some sort of threat. The original, his creator, was talking fast to a girl beside him. Mei supplied memories that were not his. Something about a new training regimen which would take a while, and not to expect him back. Then he’d hopped off. To go train under the black monkey whispered his not-memories.

Hmm, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he had a bit of a problem with that. Something niggled at his memories. No, that was an understatement. This jarring feeling of unease was only dwarfed by the all-consuming need to chill that he was sure he’d been created from. Against his inborn nature to let things play out of their own accord, he grabbed his retreating original’s arm and opened his mouth and struggle for a bit to get language down. “Danger,” he finally managed to get out.

“I’ve never seen one do that before!” said Mei. “Is that normal?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said his creator to him. “But the danger’s gone.”

The time it took his creator to say that did such wonder for his vocal cords that he suspected magic was behind it. It did not, however, grant him eloquence or persuasion and further discussion on the matter proved to be futile. Actions also failed to sway his creator, who just shrugged off his newly born clones incessant tugging and bounced off to train with the suspicious monkey. Leaving said clone alone struggling with how to handle this leftover unease, which was clearly not his because he’d been born from the desire to chill. Clearly.

As per his not-memories instructions, he goes about the original’s day. And those wiggling anxieties don’t bother him at all because he’s the master of calm nonchalance, if he does say so himself. For evidence of his mastery over baseless fears, look no further than the reactions of the others… Mei takes him to an arcade and he manages to smile in the crowded place where there is nowhere to hide…from how cool he looks! Yep! That’s it. That’s all that’s going on.

And he’s not relieved at all when Mei decides they should head home after only one round of their game or that she walks him home to his apartment. They play video games on his couch while she texts something on her phone to… Sandy he thinks, given the cat emojis. He can’t make out anything else. He’s too busy checking the window and doors to make sure they are secure because it might be cold tonight.

The next day Pigsy greets him with a, “My kitchen is a mess. You’re on dishes.” He gets to work, periodically glancing up to watch those who come in. He would have merely listened for entries but he can barely make out what Pigsy and Mr. Tang are saying and they’re barely on the other side of the room.

“….bit of mindless work all he needs.” Says Pigsy.

Mr. Tang reply is nearly unintelligible. “something-something- Sandy.”

He watches as Pigsy moves off. Is he making the deliveries today? Mr. Tang takes the opportunity to swoop over to the counter and regale him with a Monkey King story. Mr. Tang does this sometimes, his not-memories whisper. He ignores them because he doesn’t want to have the story spoiled for him. He still watches the door but now its for Mr. Tang’s sake (and his own if Pigsy caches him).

Sandy shows up next. Mo in tow. Mr. Tang waves him and his tea pot (how was that boiling he was literally carrying it) over and proceeds to tell another story while Sandy placed Mo down. Immediately the cat jumped on the counter and started nudging at the clone doing the dishes.

He stared at Mo. Mo stared at him. Slowly he reaches one hand out and rubs it down Mo’s back. Mo purrs. Red Son does not burst in. The mysterious monkey does not come in. Even Pigsy does not come in. The boy feels himself smile. Everything was fine.

He doesn’t notice Mr. Tang’s story drop off, or see the look that passes between the two older men.

He does hear Mei and Pigsy burst in. He’s on his feet in an instant but Pigsy doesn’t even scold him for slacking off. All he says is, “We’ve got trouble.”

Upon seeing the bull demon minions he wants to scream, “I WAS RIGHT!” to the stars above. The only reason he didn’t was he knew that wouldn’t be very chill of him. Still he can’t contain the elation that comes with being proven right. He knew something was wrong, he knew it. Even the original didn’t see it but he did!!! Mei takes his elation as battle confidence and laughs. Together they lunge at the approaching demon bull minions.

It doesn’t work.

He wracks his not-memories for answers and tries again.

It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t understand. These are small fry. He takes these out all the time.

It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work.

Its Pigsy who drags him away from the battle. Mr. Tang is already driving the truck. Sandy had Mei.

It didn’t work. He threw everything he had at it and it wasn’t enough. There is nothing he can do.

Except wait for the original.

He suddenly becomes aware of his breathing. It was fast. He’s squished into Pigsy’s truck, between the door and Pigsy himself. He can just make out the demon bull minions as they pull away. They have a light blue afterglow.

Pretty.

He reaches deep into himself and pulls out the emotion he was built on, drawing it over himself like a shield. There was fear there, always had been. But he was made to relax in the face of danger. He could do this. It’s like looking thought a veil at the world.

He blinks into reality. Pigsy is upset. But his words don’t really reach him. They are thrown from side to side by Mr. Tang’s bad driving. He lets himself move with the car. It’s just like a ride at an amusement park.

The practically slam into the docks and catch air as they move onto Sandy’s boat. Neat.

He feels Pigsy pull him out of the car and half stumbles after him. He hears Mr. Tang rev the engine again and pull the truck behind some crates. He sees Sandy cradling an unconscious Mei in front of him. Pigsy’s incessant pulling draws him into the elevator and the smell of five sweaty bodies choke him until they are finally able to exit into the secret base.

The secret base is cool. Colorful gadgets he’s only really seen used in not-memories cover the walls. He really wants to explore, but he’s guided to the tv area. Mei is placed on the couch by Sandy before he runs off to find something. Pigsy place the boy at the edge and holds up his fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up kid?”

There are three. “Three,” he replies.

Pigsy lets his fingers drop and starts checking him over for something. Sandy materializes next to them and starts bandaging Mei. Huh. He hadn’t noticed she was bleeding. Pigsy starts adding bandages to him too.

The three adults are talking over him. “The kids will need time to recover…”

“Someone should stay with them. The other two might be able to do something with the tech in here.”

“Maybe we should wait for the kids to wake up….we’ll have time to rest and plan and we can go in as a team…”

Mei stirred. Good. She’d be able to show him around. That would be fun.

She does not get to show him around the base. When she’s able to move she’s mainly talking to the others about the plan of attack. He wanders the base by himself until one of them corrals him back to the main team.

They end up going out again. And again. And again. Each time they bring out some of the tech from their hide out, and every time it fails. He wonders if they are supposed to be learning something from all of this. But when he voices his musing, Mr. Tang only sighs.

“I don’t know what to tell you. It’s the only plan we’ve got.”

Its Pigsy who insists on going out again and again. Every time they get out there he tries to get to the shop. They never make it. And every time the return he shrugs off whatever injury he has and goes to grab the next weapon on the wall. And every time its Sandy who stops him with a nod to the rest of the group.

Every time, they are a sorry sight. Mei is almost always injured; always the first to throw herself into battle. Mr. Tang fares poorly as well, often a result of covering for someone. Sandy takes the most damage from carrying one or more of their unconscious bodies to safety.

Pigsy takes more damage than any of them, save Mei, but that doesn’t stop him. Nothing stops him. Nothing but the sight of his injured companions and Sandy’s quite “I don’t know what to tell you, but we need to rest.”

There is exhaustion in Pigsy’s eyes.

The boy, on the other hand, is fine. He doesn’t do well in fights but, since he’s mastered the art of chill, it’s not like it bothers him anymore. And yeah, the headband and jacket attract trouble but Mr. Tang always pulls him out. And sure, Mr. Tang sarcasm output is directly proportional to the times he’s pulled the boy from death’s door but it’s not like he can solve that problem. Things he cannot control he doesn’t worry about. Not a bit.

After the same old song and dance with Sandy talking Pigsy down from running off on “Patrol” again, they settle into their down time activities. For the boy this means chilling on the couch and pretending the tv works. Or wandering around the base for the umpteenth time. Or trying to make a tower out of all the discarded and broken weapons. Today he sits on the couch next to Mei and tries to pretend the game system is running. It would be a survival game. One of those post apocalypse ones.

Sandy heads up to fish once he’s sure no one needs medical attention and Pigsy isn’t going to run off again. They are low on food. Which may sound bad but how big of a problem is it really if none of them are in the mood for food? Sandy never heeds this logic and instead risks daily visits to the surface for fish with only Mo to stand watch. The cat, at least, enjoys the daily fish surplus.

Mei spends her down time as she always does, staring at her phone. It’s a pointless endeavor, he knows, the bull demon minions were careful to get any transmitter and effectively downed the internet and cell service. They even went after old fashioned phone lines and radio transmitters. But Mei doesn’t stop hitting redial and a recording plays the line “I’m sorry we were unable to reach the number you dialed” over and over again.

Mr. Tang stands before the monitor, watching the destruction. Buildings destroyed, people screaming they couldn’t make it in time to help, movements of bull demon minions they can’t stop all broadcasted to the rest of the hideout. The boy had learned to tune it out, same as with Mei’s redials.

When unable to go back out on “patrol,” Pigsy often sorts through the weapons in the area for something they can use next time. He used to cook but they ran out of noodles two days ago. Used the last spices the day before that. Yesterday they ate the last of their vegetables. So today all cooking waits until Sandy brings ingredients up from the ocean. Without any food to prepare, Pigsy can only sort though the pile of broken weapons for something that might have survived their last encounter with the enemy.

Each sound from the monitor makes Pigsy tense. The screams make him flinch. The destruction makes him drop whatever he’s holding roughly back onto the ground. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are shaking.

A sudden explosion from the monitor makes them all jump. Or rather it makes the boy jump, Mei just glance up from her phone before dropping her head again to hit redial. Pigsy rises from what he’s doing and stocks over to Mr. Tang. “Stop it or let me go out again,” he almost growls.

Instead of snapping back with a sarcastic quip Mr. Tang just glances up from the monitor and says quietly, “We are going to have to leave.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying…” begins Pigsy but Tang cuts him off.

“I mean we are going to have to relocate our base.”

“Why?” says Sandy, stepping out of the elevator, smelling of fish. “We are doing pretty good here, as far as supplies go.” He holds up his catch of the day. Which they will eat without vegetables or spices or noodles. They are even down to their last teabag.

Mr. Tang doesn’t answer. Instead turns from the group and pulls up images on the monitor. Videos of demon bull king minion attacks in their area spring up. There is nothing unusual about that.

“Over the past few days,” says Mr. Tang. “They have been more and more sightings around our area. And those sightings almost all happen mere moments after we have left. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. They are hunting us, and they are getting closer.”

There is silence in response only to be broken by “The number you are trying to reach…” from Mei’s phone. She isn’t looking at it but the sound echoes over the room.

“We could try my parent’s house,” she whispers, but they all hear her fine. “Just until things cool down.”

No one replies for a moment.

“That’s an option,” Mr. Tang begins carefully. “And could be really helpful for a while but…”

“…but we’ll need a way to get there that’s undetectable,” says Pigsy quickly. “Something they won’t recognize. Like my truck.”

“How is your truck unrecognizable?” snaps Mr. Tang. Pigsy looks at him and flicks his eyes to Mei who has turned her attention back to her phone.

“We could paint it!” says Sandy quickly. “A fresh coat of paint would do the old girl some good!”

Mei perks up at that, glancing up from her phone again. “Let’s paint it green!”

Pigsy raises his hands up to ward off imaginary painters. “Now hold up,” he says. “This is my truck, and I say if we are going to do this, we are going to do this in colors that I like.”

“I have a can of orange?” said Sandy. He pulls his fingers up and ticks off imaginary paint buckets. “And black and blue, and maybe a bit of yellow.”

“Green!” says Mei, her phone dropping from her hand onto the couch.

“How about a design?” say Mr. Tang turning to her and the boy. “Something out of one of your video games, the ones with the spiky outfits.”

“Why don’t we wait until we see what Sandy has?” says Pigsy and motions for the others to follow him and Sandy. As they troop towards the elevator Pigsy leans over and loudly whispers, “Please, for the love of everything, tell me you don’t have that much yellow.”

Sandy, it turns out, does not have a lot of yellow. He barely has any at all. Undeterred, Mei tears apart Sandy’s arts and crafts supplies to see if she can find more. The rest of them find themselves staring at the truck contemplating its future makeover.

“What’s the most inconspicuous design we have?” says Mr. Tang fiddling with his glasses. “Should we draw a bull demon minion on it and let them think it’s one of theirs?”

“This is my truck,” mutters Pigsy, “And I’m not putting an enemy logo on it!”

“What if we tried subtly expressing our anger through signs that they might not be familiar with?” Sandy says. He runs his fingers through his beard. “I took a few art classes for therapy and I know a thing or two about symbols with hidden meaning.”

“Well then make something to do with noodles and down with the demon bull king,” Pigsy says with a wave of his hand. He moves closer to the truck as if surveying a design. “And I’m not all that great with art so you make the lines and I’ll fill in.”

Sandy gets to work. Pigsy joined in and Mr. Tang follows. But not before placing a brush in the hand of the watching boy.

He slowly joined in. It’s more fun than fake video games.

He didn’t notice how Mr. Tang took the opportunity to slip away once the boy was immersed in his craft. Didn’t notice how he started loading food, water, and blankets into the back of the truck. He was too busy following the lines Sandy drew and trying not to (not) splash paint on Pigsy.

Mei burst out of the boat with a shout that made them all flinch. Paint got everywhere, seagulls flew off, and Mr. Tang dropped the pillows he’d been loading into the truck. Mei seemed to realize what she’d done and covered her mouth. There were a few moments of tense silence.

The seagulls settled back on the ship.

Mei pulled her hand from her mouth and whispered loudly, “I’ve got the best idea!” And she held up her hands, which, he now realized, were full of spikes. “We can get outfits to match the truck!”

The adults exchanged glances. New clothes would be nice, but none of them had any on the boat. Except for Sandy of course. “With what?” said Mr. Tang, side eyeing Sandy.

“With this!” said Mei. “A little work on these old spiked armor and we could get it to fit us! It’ll be an apocalypse makeover! And the best part is we get to feel like we’re in new clothes without actually having to be in new clothes!”

She handed the spikes, which the boy could now see were attached to shoulder pads, over to Pigsy. Then she went running back in to return with belts and goggles.

They ended up leaving later than planned. No one cared. Mei was laughing again, excitedly trying to get their costumes to mimic her favorite video game characters.

And he would be lying if he didn’t say he joined in. He wandered next to her and provided second opinions on the costumes. And first opinions. This was his apocalypse game too. Pigsy let them put the smidge of yellow paint onto his face. Mr. Tang accepted an ammunition belt. Sandy didn’t even argue when they gave him a shirt.

But when it was his turn to get dolled up he took one look at the red headband Mei was wearing and said, “No thanks, I’m good.”

“C’mon!” she said. “You can’t just dress everybody up and then not dress up yourself!”

He looked at the red headband she had tied around her head.

In the game that was done to honor the dead.

“No,” he said. “I’ll pass.”  And he stomps into the truck. He can hear Pigsy telling Mei not to press him but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. The original isn’t dead. He can’t be.  

When the others crowd in the good mood from moments before has evaporated. Pigsy drives.

In hindsight they should have seen this coming.

“Pigsy this is the way back to the shop,” says Mr. Tang.

Pigsy’s shoulders rise up. “So what?”

“So the point is to avoid suspicion!” snaps Mr. Tang.

“I’m driving and it’s my shop, we’re going to pass by it!”

“We’ll just draw more attention to ourselves!!!”

“How about some tea?” says Sandy producing a teapot from nowhere.

“Stay out of this!” they both growl. Sandy’s teapot vanishes.

The boy fights the urge to stick his hands over his ears. It’s fine. He can handle this.  He’s chill. Everything is chill. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Mei gripping her phone. She hits a familiar button again.

He takes a breath and counts the seconds for the familiar message. One to dial. Two to dial. Three to dial.

The phone clicks.

The car is so still they can all hear the voice of two worried people through the phone. Mei drops it, and fumbles around. Tang finds it and wordlessly hands it over, fight forgotten. Mei grabs it and holds it up to her ear.

“Hi Mom, Dad.” Mei says in a happy voice, but the tears in her eyes make it come out thickly.

Pigsy keeps driving in the direction of the shop. No one comments on it.

Mei is done talking by the time they reach a familiar street. Bull demon minions crawl all over Pigsy’s pride and joy, and some poor kid is standing right int front of them. Some poor kid with an orange jacket and red headband…

Mei, Pigsy, and Sandy are out of the car in a flash. He’s to stunned to move so he waits inside with Mr. Tang.

The others explain the situation to his baffled creator. When he turns his attention to him wondering why he couldn’t prevent all this he just shrugs. There really is only one thing to say: “I don’t know what to tell you guy.”

MK feels the rush of memories flood in him, but they are blurred. His boy hadn’t really been paying attention to the details. So instead he asks for clarification. “What happened?”

Mr. Tang tells a tale that gives meaning to the images that his boy left in his brain. Also the deep aching fear leaking through shields of denial. Well no need to fear. The Monkie kid was here to save the day. For the sake of everyone. And for the sake of his boy.  

[ragnarachael]

Awkward Air

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Peter Parker x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,983

Summary: Tony has to pull his two favorite Parker's back to earth after they learn that Aunt May is dating Happy. (request) 

A Note: i’ve scrapped this several times because my goblin brain just wasn’t about it. but i did it! i kinda like it! that’s all that matters. i hope you enjoy it too! if not, i’m super sorry i didn’t do your request justice, i put my all into it the best i could. i also feel like tony is slightly out of character, so i apologize because of that, too. (my break before posting this was watching like, 5 or 6 brian david gilbert videos on polygon’s youtube channel and i really don’t regret it)

MASTERLIST !

To say you had been dreading going over to visit May and Peter tomorrow was an understatement.

Truthfully, you might be up all night thinking about how to talk to her about her new boyfriend.

Happy Hogan. You still find that extremely hard to believe.

Didn’t Happy have a wife?

Hell, you wouldn’t know.

“You alright? You look like you’re about to combust,” Tony joked fondly as he landed on his side next to you on your shared bed after just getting Morgan to bed. You let out a soft hum as you texted a reply to Peter, not even glancing at your husband as you laid on your back.

“Was that hum meant to tell me that you’re not point five seconds away from exploding?” Tony exaggerated as a hand of his carefully slid across your stomach just as you hit the send button.

“I mean,” you started, locking your phone to finally look over at Tony. “It could mean that.”

Tony let out a huff of a laugh before gently tugging you onto your side and into his chest. “C’mon sweetheart, talk to me.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and let your head thunk into the middle of Tony’s chest, your phone now happily forgotten in between you and the bedsheets.

“May is dating Happy.”

“Happy? Happy.. Hogan?”

“Yeah, what other Happy’s do you know?” You questioned as your eyes finally met Tony’s. You smiled as you felt Tony’s hand rubbing your side comfortingly.

“You make a very good point. Why are you so worried about it?”

“Welll,” you said, dragging out the word as you slowly rose to sit up on the mattress. “Peter is freaking out about it, and you know that when he freaks out I freak out. He even sent the cowboy emoji, he never does that unironically.”

Tony tried to hold back a laugh as he nodded, feeling your phone vibrating on his side. He started to feel around for it as he listened to you closely.

“Plus he’s still trying to get his stuff together for that school trip.. thing? Remember the one for Italy that he hasn’t stopped talking about?” You continued, watching your husband as he hummed in confirmation, pulling your phone out successfully from the sheets to hand to you.

“Thank you.” You flipped the phone in your hand for it to land screen up to read the newest text from Peter.

You snorted before clearing your throat to read the message aloud.

“May isn’t home yet and hasn’t responded to my texts. Do you think Happy might have ignored her to death or something? Should I go on patrol super fast to see where they are? Oh god what if I find them doing something and end up having to bleach my eyes.”

Tony took in a deep breath as he tried not to laugh as you typed a quick reply with a slightly amused expression, trying to console your baby brother without having to call.

“He’s really.. somethin’, huh?” Tony questioned and let out a small huff before collecting himself and trying to stay completely serious for your sake.

“Yeah, he is. He’s acting like May left without telling him where she went.”

“I don’t see why he’s so worried about the two of them dating,” Tony said as he shifted to start laying on his back next to you.

“Do you not remember how he reacted when I said I was dating you? The poor thing had a heart attack.”

Tony clicked his tongue in response, an arm going under his head as you stayed sitting up, still tapping at your phone screen.

“Like,” you started as you locked your phone, trying to find the right words to explain how you felt. “I’m happy May is dating again, she deserves it, really. But.. Happy?”

“Baby,” Tony started in a firm tone, starting to shift around to sit up next to you now. His hand moved to cup your cheeks and turn your head towards his. “You’re over thinking.”

“Am not,” you mumbled softly as Tony’s hands squished your cheeks together.

Tony gave you a fond smile and pressed a kiss to your nose before letting your cheeks go.

“Are too. I get that you’re feeling uncomfortable that Happy’s dating your Aunt, I do. But don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.” Tony was quick to grab your now ringing phone, already answering the Facetime call that was taking over your screen, knowing exactly who it was.

“So, I literally cannot find my suit for the life of me right now, and I still haven’t gotten a text from May— O-Oh, hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter coughed on the other end, trying to cover up all he was saying as Tony held the phone up to get the both of you in the shot.

“Hi, Pete.”

“Peter, just calm down, I’m sure she’s probably having a great time,” you said carefully, hoping the way you phrased that sentence wouldn’t let Peter go even more insane.

Peter let out a long sigh before making a show of falling back onto his bed.

“I know.”

“Then what’s got you so worked up, bubba?” You asked softly, moving to take your phone from Tony’s hand as he made a pouty face. Peter just let out another huff before he rolled over onto his side so half of his face was pressed into the pillow he laid his head on.

“‘S just.. May left worried. I don’t know what about, since she was almost late, but—”

“Peter, did you ever stop to think that maybe she was worried about being late?”

Peter scrunched his nose up and shuffled around a bit on the top of his bed sheets.

“You didn’t stop to think about that, did ya?” You questioned fondly, smiling softly at your brother through the camera as Tony laid his head on your shoulder so he could still be a part of the conversation.

“I’m more than sure Aunt May and Happy are fine, kid. If you want I can even text or call Happy to ask,” Tony offered kindly, Peter practically shooting up to sit.

“R-Really, Mr. Stark?”

You could practically hear Tony’s eye roll as he lifted his head from your shoulder to reach over at the bed stand on his side to grab his phone. Eventually, he popped back into the frame to wave around his phone that was in his hand.

“Thank you, Mr—”

“Jesus Christ, Peter, just call him Tony!” You exclaimed softly, trying to hold back a groan when Peter let out a dramatic sigh.

“I love you, Y/N, but I physically can’t do that.”

You snorted at his response and glanced at Tony as he started tapping at his screen.

“Well, Mr. Parker,” you started, “I’ll text you with a status update whenever Tony gets a reply from Happy, okay? Until then, go to bed. We’re coming for breakfast, remember.”

Peter looked like he was off in his own little dreamland until your last sentence caught his attention.

“That’s tomorrow?”

“Yes, Peter. It’s tomorrow,” you replied with no emotion, Tony trying not to laugh at your facial expression as Peter groaned and smacked his face gently.

“I forgot. I’ll let you go, Y/N. I’m sorry!”

You let out a scoff and waved your hand.

“Please, it’s fine, bud. Just get some sleep alright? I’ll shoot you a message when Tony has sent out the text or called them.”

Peter let out a noise of confirmation before you both shared your goodnights and hung up.

You let out a loud sigh before placing your phone on your chest as you completely laid back on Tony’s chest as he kept typing on his phone.

“That was eventful,” Tony said casually as his hands gently rested on top of your stomach. You let out a small laugh and shook your head.

“You’re telling me. Did you text them?”

Tony’s thumb had tapped on his screen one last time before he held it over your face for you to read.

Hey, Hogan. Peter’s going insane to see if May is okay and I told him I’d check in on you two to see if you’re not fonduing or anything.

“Oh god, Tony—”

“Hey, the kid asked! I’m just delivering!”

You covered your face with your hands as you laughed, your phone on your chest vibrating once for a text notification.

Tony carefully grabbed your phone before reading the newest text out loud.

You covered your face with your hands as you laughed, your phone on your chest vibrating once for a text notification.

Tony carefully grabbed your phone before reading the newest text out loud.

“I just found May’s phone on the kitchen counter, so that probably explains why she hasn’t texted me. I’m sorry for my freak out.”

You carefully shot up from Tony’s lap and tugged his hand back to look at your phone screen.

“Seriously!?”

Tony just handed you your phone back with a smile on the verge of laughter before his phone vibrated.

“At least he added a nervous looking emoji afterwards?” Tony offered before he unlocked and looked at his own phone, cooing at the screen before turning it to you.

You squinted at the screen for a second before it registered.

It was May and Happy out at what looked like an Italian place for dinner, and they both looked extremely happy.

Your heart sung.

Aunt May was finally with someone who made her smile like she used to with Uncle Ben.

You started to coo once Tony tapped the picture to make it a bit bigger.

“Oh, wow,” you said softly, grabbing his phone from his hands gently, plopping your phone back on the bed sheets as you examined what May was wearing in the picture.

“They look so.. happy—”

Quiet giggles from the doorway pulled you out from the moment, causing both you and Tony to look at the door to your bedroom, only to see Morgan with her messy bedhead and her dog pj’s as she looked in on the two of you.

“Hey, little lady. I thought Papa put you to bed?”

Morgan took this as her cue to pad in and climb onto the bed as you handed Tony his phone back and making sure to lock yours before Morgan took the advantage to play games on it.

“Couldn’t sleep, lovebug?” Tony questioned softly once Morgan was comfy in your lap, your arms loosely wrapped around her small body. Morgan nodded as she let her head lean into Tony’s hand that was trying to get some of her hair behind her ears.

“Couldn’t get comfy,” Morgan clarified before her face nuzzled into your neck.

“Or you’re too excited to see Uncle Peter and Grandma May tomorrow, is that it?” You suggested before dropping a kiss to your daughters head, starting to absentmindedly rock her in your arms.

“Maybe,” Morgan mumbled loudly with a cheeky look on her face that caused Tony to finally laugh. He carefully took both of your phones and placed them on his nightstand.

“You’re tryin’ to sleep with us tonight, aren’t you?” Tony asked as he rested his chin on his hands so he could be leveled with Morgan in your arms. She nodded shyly under her father’s gaze as she popped out to look at him from your neck.

After Morgan asked nicely if she could sleep with the two of you, the three of you got comfortable under the covers, Morgan resting her head on your chest while Tony’s arm wrapped around the both of you as he laid on his side.

You really thought that at the rate Peter had you worrying at that you would have been up all night thinking about May and Happy, but the second your head hit the pillow after you and your little family exchanged goodnights, you slept like a baby.

You even woke up to Morgan bouncing onto Tony’s stomach, so something was definitely telling you that you didn’t have much to worry about.

[sheewolf85]

Drabble list #2 spicybbq (edge/slim) #26

The line is: “You’re the one thing keeping me sane right now.”

Slim is having a bad night. He asks Edge to come over and just be with him. 

I’m doing these out of order, I’m sorry. I also added a smidge to the line. I’m sick, Slim is sick, Edge is sick (in the head)…Dammit, we’re all sick.

After the cut cuz it got long:

Edge looked down at his phone when it chimed with a message. To his surprise, the message was from Slim.

Bonefriend: can you come over after work today? please? i feel like shit.

The message sent a wave of concern crashing through Edge’s soul. That Slim felt like shit could mean anything from being mildly inconvenienced to full-blown suicidal. He wasn’t waiting until he was released at the end of his shift. His boss might give him shit, but this world’s Asgore was a mite different from his own.

Edge: Of course I can come over. Do you need anything?

Telling Slim that he was coming over early would do nothing but make him feel bad for ‘making’ Edge miss work. Better to skip all that when he could wave away concerns in person. 

Bonefriend: you. and maybe some soup?

Soup? A bit of an odd request, but one Edge was all too happy to fill. He even had some leftover chicken noodles that he’d made for Sans and Red the day before. They’d both come down with some kind of sickness at the same time, as if they weren’t twins enough already. 

He sent a quick text back stating what he had, and Slim responded with a thumb’s up emoji. With a fond smile on his face, he closed down the programs he was using and sent an email to Asgore letting him know he was leaving early. After that, he gathered his items and left his office. 

Just outside, he stopped to let his secretary know he was leaving. Harriet was new, and like many others who worked with him, she was nervous around him. She smiled though, and let him know in no uncertain terms that she would handle everything. He had no choice but to trust her. 

At home, Edge quickly changed into street clothes and got the soup together, then got back into his car to head over to Slim’s. 

He pulled into drive and walked up to the door. He knocked once only to announce his presence before using his key to let himself in. Razz was already halfway to the door and gave Edge a nod in greeting before returning to the television. Edge nodded back. 

“Is he in his room?” Edge asked. 

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing that,” he gestured to the container in Edge’s hand, “he wouldn’t let me make him anything. Said you were going to take care of him.”

Edge raised a brow. “Is he ill?”

Razz sighed. “He said he told you what was going on! That lying bastard.”

Edge tensed but forced himself to let it go. Razz didn’t mean it the way Edge would have taken it. The insults the brothers threw back and forth were similar to the ones he and Red threw at each other, but it was odd seeing it from an outsider’s perspective. 

“He said he was feeling bad.” It took a second, but Edge finally got it. “Oh, he caught what Sans and Red have?” 

Razz nodded. “And Stretch, too, apparently. The low HP crowd could fund that hospital all on their own.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

“Has he been?”

“Yeah, I took him this morning; dragged him kicking and screaming. Well, he would have if he’d had the energy. It’s just a bug that needs to work it’s course; nothing the doctors can do about it, apparently. They just said to bring him back if it gets worse.”

“Thank you for that.”

Razz glared at him. “What, you think I’d leave my own brother here to--”

Edge shook his head, smiling a little. “No, you idiot, thank you for the information.”

That calmed him down, and he just nodded. Edge took that as his cue to leave and went to heat up the soup. 

Once it was ready, Edge made his way to Slim’s room with everything on a tray and knocked lightly before entering. The room was dark save for the light coming in through the window. It was just as messy as it ever was, although there was a nice new pile of used tissues on the floor by the head of the bed. 

“edge?” slim rasped. His voice was always low and grainy, but there was something about the illness that made it even rouger, sexier.

“Yes, it’s me.” He kicked the door shut and moved to set the tray on the table beside the bed. 

“i didn’t expect you to get here until later. what are you doing here?” He lifted himself up to his elbow where he leaned over the side of the bed to start hastily cleaning up the tissues. Most of them landed just short of the wastebasket. 

Edge pushed him back down and sat beside him. “If you think I haven’t dealt with worse, far grosser, messes, you’re wrong. I’m sure you remember my brother.”

Slim smiled, but it was weak. “yeah, that asshole is a special brand of gross.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?” Edge reached out and pressed his wrist to Slim’s forehead. He didn’t push it away, but he did groan at Edge’s frown. 

“because I knew you’d leave early and come over just to prance around me like I’m a porcelain doll. i’m not fucking dying; i’m just sick for fuck’s sake. i’m also hungry. i can’t smell it, but i know you made good on the offer to bring chicken noodles.”

Edge smiled fondly and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Slim’s cheekbone. “Yes, I did. Would you like me to--”

“if you plan to end that sentence with ‘help you’ i’m going to drown you in it.”

Okay. Apparently Slim was a bit oversensitive. It probably made sense; Razz was just as overbearing as Blue could be, only Razz was meaner about it. Slim had probably had enough of being treated like a child.

So instead of making any fanfare about it, Edge reached over to get the soup from the table and set it on Slim’s sternum. He only watched as Slim struggled to sit up without spilling any, only offering his help when Slim seemed to realize he couldn’t do it on his own. Even then, all he did was hold the bowl.  Once Slim was settled, Edge maneuvered himself to sit on his opposite side and propped himself against the headboard. 

“it’s good,” Slim said softly, his voice still rough and gravelly even as a whisper. 

Why was that so sexy? He’d heard humans talk about a sexy cold voice before, but he’d always thought it was ridiculous. Humans with colds sounded snotty and slimy and gross. 

Maybe it was just Slim.

Edge didn’t say anything as Slim finished his soup and set the bowl haphazardly on the table. It was almost too close to the side, but Edge said nothing still. Instead, he welcomed Slim into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of his skull. 

“thank you so much for coming. i’m sorry i made you leave work early.”

“You did no such thing,” Edge said sternly yet calmly. “That was my choice.” He decided not to mention the real reason. “And I made that decision because spending time with you under any circumstances is better than sitting at that desk.”

Slim hugged him a little tighter. “thanks. not true, but thanks.”

“Excuse you? I’ll decide what’s true or not when it comes to how I feel, thank you.” His voice was teasing, and he could almost feel Slim’s smile through the thin material of his t-shirt. 

They sat in silence for a few long minutes before Slim started to get uncomfortable. He took a few sips of water and then wanted to lie back down. Edge laid with him and once again wrapped his arms around his love. 

“thank you for coming. sometimes i feel like you’re the one thing keeping me sane right now.” He burrowed his face deeper into Edge’s shirt. 

Edge held him a little tighter and didn’t demand an explanation. It seemed this illness wasn’t the only thing he was battling, and perhaps Edge’s first concern was valid after all. Bringing it up, making Slim talk, would either help make it better or push him deeper into it, and Edge wasn’t about to risk that. If Slim wanted to talk about it, he would. He’d made that promise, and Edge had to trust that he’d keep it. 

“Of course I came,” he said, gently petting Slim’s back and shoulders. “I’m always here for you, Slim, you know that. No matter what the ailment is, my chicken soup and my love is always yours for the taking.”

Slim huffed a little laugh which led to a bigger coughing fit. He groaned and reached over the side of the bed to the tissue box Edge had seen there and pulled back with a handful of them. 

“i’m all gross right now and i might leak on you,” he warned. 

“As if snot is the worst bodily fluid of yours I’ve had on me.”

That caused a little blush to rise to Slim’s cheekbones, and Edge smiled at the sight. It was right then that he realized why Slim’s voice was so damn sexy. It sounded like this--a bit deeper and more hoarse--after he’d sucked Edge’s--

A knock on the door interrupted that thought. 

“Slim?” Razz peeked his head in. “I’m sorry, I know Edge is here to take care of you, but I can’t help it. I need to ask you how you’re feeling.”

Instead of the snarl Edge had expected, Slim just nodded and smiled a bit. “i’m okay, bro.”

“Do you need anything?”

“nope. just edge.” He snuggled in closer to Edge’s side as if to demonstrate. 

Razz nodded again and shut the door.

Slim sighed and laughed a little. “y’know, sometimes i think he’s like this now because he couldn’t be when we were underground. like he’s trying to make up for all the times he had to leave me suffering at home and could only sneak in to check on me during his lunch break. i do get it, but sometimes i get a bit bratty.”

Edge nuzzled his skull. “Only sometimes?” But he agreed; even when he and Slim had first gotten together, Razz was fiercely protective of Slim but he wouldn’t show it around anyone but Edge. It had led Edge to believe that the monster had a problem with him specifically, but that didn’t last. He was more open with his concern now, able to show the world that he loved his brother without fear of reprimand or what might befall his brother because of it.

“yes, only sometimes, you shit.”

Edge smiled at that and held his love tighter. “Try to sleep now, okay? I’ll stay with you.”

“okay, but don’t you dare get sick, too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

[spnfanficpond]

December 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap - Structuring Longer Plots

We had a great time chatting with @jhoomwrites​, today! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your wisdom and experience!

Our chat was all about structuring longer plots, filler vs plot, and the different types of structures that are out there. (Mostly, we talked about how we don’t always have a structure in mind when we’re writing, and how we deal with it when a story breaks apart the structure we’d so carefully constructed.) A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

For those who don’t know her, Ashley is an avid writer, not just of fan fiction. She’s popular on Tumblr and AO3 for Destiel stories of all lengths, from little emoji ficlets she bangs out from requests (where followers send her a short string of emojis and she writes a story using them all) up to epic stories. She’s currently working on a hockey fan fiction that was her NaNoWriMo project, but with 120 SPN works on AO3, we’ve got plenty to read while she’s distracted with her hockey boys! (I’ve convinced her to be a member of the Pond, so hopefully we’ll see her around a lot in the future!)

We started off talking about how long our fics can get ( @katehuntington​ won with her Sullivan Series, which is currently at 570k), and whether we’re planners or pansters or a mix. Kate and Ashley are both kind of mixed, while @mrswhozeewhatsis​ has never successfully outlined a story, yet. 

Q: Was My Liege Lord (her longest at around 80k) planned or pansted?

Ashley: It was both. I had planned out some things, but then I got new ideas as I went that I wanted to explore and it padded out the length. I had a whole fic worth of plans, but just the amount of time in their lives I ended up covering necessitated adding things. Kate: I do that too. I stick to the plan, but I add soooooo much stuff along the way.

Q: When you write, and plan out a story, do you use a particular structure?

Ashley: I haven't written out a plan for a fic in some time, but I was really consistent with the style I used for a while. I would do a chart with the main plot points to the left, and then details (excerpt of dialogues, notes about specific scenes, etc) to the right. Here’s an example:

Ashley: It helps me when I get ideas later, I can find parts in the story by looking to the left and then add notes. It's my favorite way to plan out a story, especially if I know it will be multiple chapters and if I might not be starting it any time soon. This is much nicer than the outline for the story I'm working on now, which is just a list of events in chronological order (and another list of "things i could add but i don't know where this goes"). I wrote the outline about a day before I started so I didn't need as much structure.

Q: Having a plan helps, then?

Ashley: I didn't used to plan, but then I started a multi-chapter fic and realized...... I don't have an ending. So, I like to plan that out to make sure I have an actual beginning, middle, and end. Michelle: When I start, I have an idea and an ending. That’s it. All my stories have the same ending, though: And then they kissed and lived happily ever after!

Kate: It does give freedom, not having a detailed outline.

Ashley: That is true, it does make me sad when I get somewhere in the outline and there's something I'd liked, that I'd wanted to include, but it doesn't work anymore and I have to scrap it. Gotta balance sticking to the outline vs adapting to how the tone/characters have developed.

Q: Is your planning method something you learned, or something you developed? And do you use the same structure for all of your stories?

Ashley: Something I developed. I haven't had any real training or instruction in writing. I was struggling with longer fics being unorganized and not coming together at the end, so I needed something for myself. I like making charts, so I figured that was a good way to start! lol It's not something I do as much, anymore. It was a great tool when I started doing it, and I did it for years... but possibly because I've gained more writing experience with longer stories, I don't need to do it anymore. I start a fic with a general idea, I figure out where that idea is going, and start writing. I do more of a mental checklist now. Of course, for original stories, things I hope to one day publish, I will still outline.

Q: Do parts of your structure have names? A quick Google search on how to structure novels brought back about a lot of different methods for structuring a novel, all with different numbers of steps. Each step had a general idea, like rising action, climax, falling action, etc. I guess I mean, what parts of a story do you feel need to be there for it to work? What are the parts of your structure?

Ashley: Having never paid particular attention in my English classes, I would be hard pressed to put names on different parts of my story structure. I view it as beginning (set up, putting things in place), middle (the actual story more or less, all of the action), and ending (wrapping things up, resolution).

Q: When you half wing it and the story is coming along, and then you hit a plot hole, how do you handle that? 

Ashley: Well uh... **points vaguely towards abandoned WIPs** it can be rough. I do have some people I work with in terms of brainstorming. And if I get stuck with a fic I'm committed to, that I'm enjoying writing, then I talk it through with them. Sometimes, those issues are coming up--not because the story wasn't outlined--but more because I've just lost that spark of interest that I had before, and it's time to move on, anyway.

Q: There was a question submitted to the Pond by @kittenofdoomage​ about filler vs. plot.

Ashley: I think that's a real issue I face, filler vs plot. For some stories, I feel like I write a chapter and then can't really see what it adds to the story except maybe giving more characterization. My Liege Lord, I can think of some examples... and sometimes those things are cool, they're fun little ideas to explore and that's the only universe you could do it in, so you do it maybe for your own sake more than the story's. I think there's also a difference between reader and writer perceptions of what's filler. For my current project, there are scenes I wanted to include because I felt they were necessary to the plot, but I got the impression from people I'd polled that they would not be interested in those scenes (basically it's a romance and I was going to include things that were not directly related to the romance aspect and they said if it was more than a few paragraphs or so they didn't care). Michelle: I struggled with that with The Babysitter. Almost half of that fic is flashbacks to when the brothers were growing up and how their relationship with the reader developed. I considered cutting them all, but the fic felt thin. Sometimes, I'd pop a flashback chapter in there just to slow down the action in the present a bit, if you know what I mean. Like, chapter X is the night before the big battle, and chapter Y is the big battle, but it felt rushed to just go from X to Y, so I stuck D in between them. Ashley: Yeah, pacing is important, so the "filler" can help regulate that. It might also depend on if you view stories as about the plot or about the characters. If you view it as plot, then yes, you don't want that non-plot filler. If you view it as characters, then the filler doesn't necessarily move the story, but it adds depth and dimension to the characters and makes you appreciate them more. (I mean... I love the characters so much, I'd watch an episode of them just doing chores around the bunker...no plot, just them.) Kate: I just write what I feel like is right. Plus, I’m a sucker for a slow burn myself, so I’m not scared to let the readers wait.  I like to use fillers as a stairway to the big reveal or moment. What I love even more is to put a lot of foreshadowing in there, so when they read it the second time, they go: oh! Rhi: The thing is that I've found is that filler serves a lot of purposes. As mentioned above it's great for dropping a bit of foreshadowing. It's also great for expanding your background and making your characters more than two dimensional. It also gives your readers a breather. Especially if it's a heavy plot. I often find myself rambling in filler, which is where rereading is key. With longer stories, I have a brief outline of what I want. Sometimes I'll write the major points first, the ending etc then follow up with the filler. On occasion, your filler will end up imploding your plans but that's cool. That's when you either roll with it or take a break and neither of those are bad choices. It depends on the individual.

Q: (In one of the articles linked below) Peter Behrens mentioned a novel idea. He basically said he doesn’t worry about structure until the revision stage. He writes what he wants to, and then when he’s revising, he tweaks the story to fit whatever structure it fits to best.

Ashley: I do like that, and that's something that @unforth-ninawaters​ has mentioned. We're working on shorter stories that would need to be under 7.5k and I said I don't know if I could hit that. She said to write the whole story, even if it's longer, and then have someone edit it with an eye to shorten it, if necessary, and you'll probably end up with a tighter story that way. So, basically, that's how I view writing things, now. I write what I want to write for the story, and if it needs to go, it'll disappear later in the editing process. But what if it does belong? Well, then it's there, already. And yes on slow burns... for fic, it's a staple, and for WIPs, it's part of the lure, the draw in, as a reader--knowing that maybe they will maybe they won't hook up this week.

To close out the chat, we talked about the story structures listed in the following two links:

How to find your novel’s structure - This article discusses the traditional 5-stage plot structure (exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution) and the 3-act structure (setup, confrontation, resolution), as well as some other points, like how characterization can affect structure.

Writing Cooperative -  Use a story structure to make writing your novel a lot easier - This article lists several structures, and includes links to read more about each one and their strengths and weaknesses. Different stories might do better under different structures, too. A romance novel wouldn’t necessarily need the 12 steps in The Hero’s Journey.

These links are definitely worth checking out if you have any fears or concerns about your story’s structure!

Next month we’re going to talk about Real People Fiction! We’re still looking for a guest speaker, so if anyone is interested, send a message to @mrswhozeewhatsis​!! Date and time to be announced!

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever! Next up is organizing the tagging system on the blog to make it easier for readers to find the stories they’re interesting in and for writers to find the help they’re looking for!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

Say hi to November’s New Members! (If we missed someone, let us know!)

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We’re looking for a guest speaker for January to talk about RPF! If you know of an RPF writer that you’d like to hear from, let us know!!

[gaasaku-fanfests]

Misfits (part 9 & 10)

Title: Misfits Author: clem-chan Rating: T Word Count: 27 388 Summary: Marrying a CEO in the midst of a romantic scandal to pay for med school is not the happy ending Sakura imagined for herself. The arrangement that started as constant bickering soon becomes so much more… If only her husband was hers to fall in love with. GaaSaku. Modern!AU Warnings: There is a light make-out session hence the T rating. There’s also mention of child abuse and childhood trauma. Minor ships: light KankuKiba, very light ShikaTema, mention of NejiTen.

Author’s Note(s): Two little things to mention: First, I wanted to keep this accessible to all, so I have cut out more raunchy scenes which will be posted in the AO3 version of this fic soon. Second, I have this headcannon where Gaara and Sakura are just two misfits. :P So, that’s what this story is about: two misfits forced together. XD Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Trope: Arranged Marriage

. [warnings are for overall fanfic, not individual parts.]

PART 9

'Fundraiser?' Gaara texted her later during the day.

Sakura sighed, tapping her pen on the textbook opened in front of her. She scratched her leg, letting the phone drift away from her as she slowly made her through the page. The description of a tracheotomy blurred in front of her.

Sighing, she slammed her textbook shut and reached for her phone.

She jumped to her feet, and paced in the kitchen, staring at his text.

She wanted to lie.

She wanted to avoid him.

'Can't sorry,' Sakura typed, then erased it and wrote: "Yes." She hesitated before adding an emoji. She shook her head. They had barely seen each other since they had kissed. She added a smiley emoji. Neutral. Without teeth.

'Kankuro can help with shopping,' he answered immediately.

'What about you?' Sakura typed, then hesitated again. She didn't want to sound needy. She erased the message. 'Fine.'

She grunted.

Her phone buzzed again.

'7 PM, good?'

'Yes.'

Sakura stared at the screen of her phone until it went dark. She bit her below lip. She didn't know what she had wanted from him. 'More,' she shouted inwardly. If in their marriage she was the rag doll, he was missing puzzle pieces. He was pieces forced together after a child's tantrum. He was rough edges and sleeplessness that slowed him down, slow reactions, even slower answers.

'Don't ask please.'

She opened her textbook again, blowing locks of hair out of her face. She had three hours to study before Kankuro showed up.

-X-

Kankuro arrived late.

Like Temari, he didn't drive. A sleek limousine quietly parked in front of their drive-away, and a silent man got out to open the door for her.

Sakura bowed her head in quiet thanks, clutching her bag to her side, and entered the car.

"Hello, little sis," Kankuro smiled.

His hair was combed back, his suit crimson, and opened over a black turtleneck.

"We could've met there, oniisan," Sakura said, and her gaze shifted around the back of the limousine. "There was no need for the car and everything."

He huffed and waved her concerns away.

"Well, first Gaara asked me to pick you up, and he was actually polite for once. Two, Kiba hates this car and being driven around, so any excuse to get it out is a good day for me," Kankuro said quickly holding up his fingers to her, and he reached across from him to open a water bottle. He took a sip, smacked his lips together, and added holding another finger up: "and two, we aren't going to the mall. We are going directly to the designers I like. You can't get there by yourself, now that wouldn't be fun."

"Thank you," Sakura bowed her hand, her hands curling into fists on her lap.

"Why so formal?" Kankuro laughed broadly, and nudged her. He held out an opened water bottle to her, but she shook her head. Shrugging, he dropped it back in the mini refrigerator. "Oi, what the hell is going on? Gaara is polite, and you aren't smiling."

"I-I..." Sakura blushed.

"You weren't that formal when you barged into that directors' meeting."

Sakura whirled her head toward him, her eyes widened.

"You know about that?" she asked thinly.

"I know everything," Kankuro winked. "Well, there's that and there's the fact gossip travels fast  in this small world of old money and new brides. I think even Temari was a little impressed."

"I would have expected Temari-san to be mad," Sakura grimaced.

"Temari-neesan..." Kankuro articulated slowly, his gaze turning to steel. "She's your sister too now."

Sakura pinched her lips and nodded stiffly.

Kankuro laughed, and nudged her again, slapping her lap. Sakura yelped at the sheer brute of his mood swings and touch.

"I suppose Temari gave you a hard time?"

"No," Sakura said quickly, blushing hard.

"Liar," Kankuro chuckled, and glanced out the window.

"Unlike me, Temari used to be part of the company, but now she's a diplomat. Not for long though," Kankuro waved his hand around, and shrugged.

"Gaara hates that she's leaving," Sakura said carefully.

"I hate it too..." Kankuro groaned. "She was a diplomat in Konoha, met that Nara boy, and now she's going to move there."

"The Nara is an old family," Sakura muttered, and pinched her lips to keep from tumbling over words, and how she truly felt about Temari.

"Yeah, they're old-fashioned alright," Kankuro snorted. "They breed deer for Pete's sakes."

"The Inuzuka family also comes from Konoha..." Sakura said carefully.

"Strange, isn't it? We all ended up with people from Konoha." Kankuro smirked. "Actually, Kiba was raised here and in Konoha after his parents' divorce. His dad still lives downtown. Kiba did most of his schooling here."

"I see," Sakura smiled thinly.

Everyone had more roots than her here. Unshakeable, deep roots that circled back into who they were. What they wanted to be. She wanted nothing from the land, nothing from anyone, but everything from her future. And she was reckless, ruthless about what she wanted, selfishly. Not for the land. Not for Suna and its population. She had married Gaara because Suna had one of the best medical program on the continent.

And what did she have?

Nothing.

A drunk benefactor that called at odd hours asking for money, then gambling it away. Friends, she now lied to because she was too ashamed of whom Chiyo-sama had painted her to be. Too ashamed to admit she was right; she had no regrets about the money, the university, her future.

"Ahh, we are here. Let's have fun now!" Kankuro smirked wickedly, and Sakura forced herself to smile back at him.

Like a good doll.

Like a ruthless woman.

Like Gaara's wife.

They got out of the car when the driver opens the door for them. Sakura looked around her. She didn't recognize where they were, but from the absence of tall buildings she knew they were in the outskirts of  Suna. The wind hurled, whipping sand unstopped by towers and abrupt walls in the city. Sakura squinted, and Kankuro walked ahead of her, undisturbed.

Sakura let out a shuddering breath, unclenching her jaw when they stepped into the shop. It was silent, their steps muffled by thick rugs that absorbed sand and dust. The clothes were displayed both on simple racks and through elaborate designs.

Sakura stepped closer to Kankuro, who flicked through clothes carelessly, snorting noisily. She reddened, looking furtively around the shop for a clerk to pinch their lips and throw them out. 'Why is this whole family so rude?' she yelled inwardly.

"Ano, Kankuro-niisan..." she hissed, but Kankuro winked at her again.

"Kankuro-sama," a man dressed in a suit bowed down deeply, undisturbed by Kankuro's antics. "It has been a while."

"That's because you keep driving up your prices, Yuto," Kankuro snorted and Sakura coughed violently, embarrassed, hoping the man hadn't heard.

"I would never dare-"

"We'll see," Kankuro sniffed, and he turned toward Sakura. "This is Sakura, my brother's wife."

Designer Yuto Saito bowed his head at her, his eyes scanning over her clothes. Feeling self-conscious, Sakura turned her head, her heart throbbing, and pretended to look at the clothes hung on the rack on her right. Her fingers shook over the tags.

"I suppose she needs clothes," Yuto sneered.

'Not at that price, I don't!' Sakura thought, scandalized.

"I need a gown, actually," she said with fake cheerfulness.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" he sniffed again, not bothering to mask his disgust.

Sakura's head whirled toward him, her eyes flashing with anger, but before she could snap something back, Kankuro stepped in front of her.

"Just a gown for today, please," he said.

Kankuro then turned toward her, hiding Yuto from her view. She pursued her lips, and stepped away from him, pretending to explore other racks of clothes.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" Kankuro asked following her breezily.

"No, I'm starting a new rotation next week."

"Good!" he clapped his hands together. "Get us some champagne here."

"Very well, Kankuro-sama," Yuto said and snapped his fingers at his assistants.

They hurried off behind heavy curtains brought back a bottle and two champagne flutes on a tray of crystal.

"Kankuro-niisan!" Sakura said. "There's no need-"

"Of course, there's a need for champagne," Kankuro interrupted, his voice booming. "You never drank the bottle I brought to your wedding. Now, stop arguing with your big brother, and walk over to that rack."

Sakura approached the rack, unsure and uncomfortable. Over her shoulder, she watched Kankuro flop on one of the couch. Immediately, an assistant hurried around him to serve him a glass of champagne.

"Those aren't my style," Sakura whispered, gesturing frantically.

She meant the price tags. She meant the absurdity of opening a shop for one of two client per day. She meant vibrant colours for her pale skin and pink hair.

It was convoluted.

It was fake.

She didn't belong here.

"Oniisan, could we go elsewhere?" Sakura asked tentatively.

Kankuro took a sip from his glass, then snapped his fingers at Yuto.

"Oi, you heard the lady. This is all shit! Bring us the good stuff you hide behind the curtains."

"Kankuro-sama, your eye is keen as always," Yuto said with a stiff smile, still ignoring Sakura. "Of course, of course, we'll bring out the new collection for you."

He gestured fast at his assistants, and they opened the violet curtains by the dressing rooms.

Sakura let herself fall on a plush couch next to Kankuro. Winking, he handed her a champagne flute. Sakura bowed her head and took the glass gratefully. They clicked their glasses. He surveyed the clothes, then leaned over her.

"Now, play Gaara," he whispered.

"What?" Sakura whispered back, and quickly glanced up at the designer.

Yuto was still standing near them, creaseless, immobile, a perfect model.

"Playing Gaara means stay silent and sullen at everything he shows you."

"But why?"

"Because that's how this world works," Kankuro said simply, his eyes darkening with a malicious glint and a sternness that never truly parted from his character. "Never let on what you truly want. That's how you get what you want. At a reduced price," he winked at her.

Sakura took another sip of her champagne. The bubbles rolled on her tongue, brisk, numbing, like the rest of the decor. She hesitated then drowned the glass.

Before Sakura could even blink, her glass was filled once more by one of Yuto's assistants.

They showed her gowns of silky fabric, soft colours that she knew would look horrible on her. She stayed silent, immutable, as Yuto explained in his drowsy tone the fabric, its cut and the sewing technique.

"I don't like these colours," Sakura blurted out after a while, her body loose and flushed from the alcohol.

Kankuro stiffed a laugh and patted her briefly on the back— to stop her or to encourage her— she didn't know.

Yuto flushed crimson, his mouth twisted and plucked.

"The colours are in line with the fundraiser's etiquette," he flustered angrily, shock condensing his words together, and Sakura winced. "Soft beige and whites. Of course, you would need jewelry that brings some colour... Do you have something like that?" he asked pointedly as if he knew she couldn't possibly own anything like that.

"Hn." Sakura said and narrowed her eyes at him.

They glared at each other.

"Silver," Yuko bellowed and snapped his fingers at his assistants. "Let's see some silver gowns."

-X-

The door knob rattled, the key lock grinding unpleasantly.

Frowning, Gaara sat up on the couch, his body tensing. He cursed loudly when the door burst open.

"Gaara!" Sakura slurred in surprise, and hiccuped.

Red-faced, she kicked off her shoes. Gaara stood up slowly, watching her dropped her shopping bags by the door before making her way clumsily in the kitchen. She turned on herself, squinting.

"I was looking for something," she muttered, and scratched her head.

"Are you... Are you drunk?" Gaara narrowed his eyes at her.

"It was champagne," Sakura whispered and weakly batted his chest. His mouth twisted and he looked down on the spot she had touched. She leaned closer a finger pressed to her lips. "Kankuro-niisan said it doesn't count."

"Of course, he would say that," Gaara growled, and opened the refrigerator for a water bottle. "Here. Did you find a gown?"

"Hai!" Sakura gave him a salute and then, giggled.

Quickly, Gaara caught the bottle she had accidentally knocked off the counter. Breathing sharply, he opened it for her and handed it back to her.

"Drink. You need to sober up a bit."

Sakura hummed, and shook her head.

"I don't need sobering up! Kankuro-niisan says we can't get drunk on champagne."

"Fine. I'll get you to bed then."

"I'm not a child."

"Sakura..."

"I'm not going to bed," Sakura insisted in a high-pitched voice.

Wobbly, she walked to the couch.

Sakura flopped on her stomach, pushing Gaara's book on the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as she slurred words in her native language.

"This is the worst couch," she said slowly switching back to his language, and she roughly patted the pillow. Grunting, she threw it behind the couch. From her swooping unstable motions, her foot hit the coffee table.

Gaara narrowed his eyes at the loose sheets and diagrams spilling on the floor.

"Ooopsie doopsie," Sakura sing-sang and settled once more on the couch.

"Come on, I'm putting you to bed," Gaara said and bent over her.

"Noooo!" Sakura drawled out, shaking her head quickly, but she let him pick her up bridal style.

Her arms automatically circled his neck. Sakura squinted at him, scrutinizing him, and her fingers tensed around his neck. She pouted.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Are we kissing again?" she slurred and blinked rapidly at his annoyed face.

"No, I'm getting you to bed," Gaara repeated and climbed up the stairs carefully.

"Does the world spin in bed?" she asked childishly, with widened eyes.

"Hn."

With his foot, Gaara pushed the door of their bedroom open.

"Gaara-kun!" Sakura exclaimed, and clung to him when he tried to lower her to the bed.

His eyebrow twitched, his face darkening.

She was heavy. He stiffly readjusted her in his arms, but she wriggled in his embrace.

"Sakura, you're being difficult," he gritted his teeth.

"But I wanna say we played Gaara with Kankuro!"

"What?" he snapped, and he sat on the bed with Sakura with in his arms.

She nodded fast, her eyes fluttering close, then open wide.

"We glared and stayed silent," Sakura explained and giggled, her head rolling back on his shoulder. "But I couldn't stay silent. Kankuro-niisan says it takes practice to perfect the Gaara game."

"I'll kill him," Gaara muttered to himself.

"Oh no, don't! We had fun! And I almost felt like I belonged, y'know?"

"What?"

"There's my gutter," Sakura bobbed her head, pushing away his hands that tried to lower her to the bed. "And there's your castle."

"My castle?" Gaara repeated slowly, and she slipped out of his arms clawing at the bed sheets.

She clumsily untucked them, and patted the pillows, burying her whole fists in them.

"Mhm," she muttered and wrapped herself in the covers, swiftly rolling away from the side of the bed. "I feel like a misfit whenever I'm with you or your family... Especially Temari," she drawled out, and she switched position. She pressed a pillow to her chest. "Y'all say you're my family, but you aren't. My family is dead."

Gaara watched her, frozen.

"But you said you had fun with Kankuro," he said weakly.

"Oh, the world is spinning. Can you make it stop?" Sakura held up a hand to him, gesturing frantically.

His fingers tingling, his fist clenching to his sides, Gaara hesitated. Then, he nodded, and turned back toward the door.

"I'll get you some water."

"Okie," Sakura muttered blankly and buried her face in the pillow she still held.

When Gaara came back with her glass of water, she was already asleep, restless, and jerking and grunting in her sleep.

He sighed, and set the glass on her bedside table.

Downstairs, he sat back on the couch and started tidying up.

His castle.

Her gutter.

This was how she felt about him? About his family?

Gaara evened the stacks of paper on the coffee table, his mouth twisted with displeasure. The paper hit the table more and more brutally, and he flung it entirely aside.

Paper flew everywhere, snapping, ripping.

Breathing hard, Gaara jumped to his feet.

Like Gaara did every night, he paced, praying for sleeplessness. Anguish. Terror. That was his castle, couldn't she see?

***

PART 10

The next day, Sakura awoke with a throbbing headache, her arms twisted underneath her. She stirred, wincing at the palish glow around the curtained windows. Her hair stuck to her sweaty neck as she tentatively moved her arms, her legs.

Sakura squinted at the light grey shadows, and the foot of the bed sank.

Wincing, she passed a hand over her forehead.

She ached all over.

"It's me," Gaara muttered.

Sakura grunted in reply, and pulled the covers over her head. She felt him shift slowly as if not to disturb her. He put on his socks, then buttoned his shirt.

"I put some painkillers on the bedside table and a glass of water," he mentioned after a tensed silence.

"Thanks." Sakura said, her voice muffled.

She tried to collect herself, assemble thoughts, and words she may have said. She still wore her clothes from yesterday.

"You're unhappy with me, aren't you?"

Sakura opened her mouth to reply, but her mouth was dry, all the words she could utter, bitter, weak. She meant to lie: "No, everything is fine." She meant to yell the truth: "You keep me at arm-length because of your back, and I'm tired. I'm so tired of yearning for more." She curled up, her body folded more tightly under the covers, rocking slightly.

If only the pain would ease.

In her head.

In her heart.

She pressed her eyelids tightly shut when Gaara sighed.

"I was a monster for most of my life," he said in a hushed voice, and she wondered if he had spoken at all. "I was never a child. I was born a monster. My mother died when she gave birth to me. My father couldn't get over his grief. He turned violent with Tem and Kankuro." His jaw clenched. "But mostly me, because I killed her. He gambled our entire family fortune away. My uncle took us in..." He pointed awkwardly at his back. "He carved my back when I was asleep, so I would never forget what I've done to our family by being born," Gaara turned his gaze toward her shapeless form, still angry and sad from the previous night.

He meant to reach for her, but his hand trembled on his lap.

She didn't move either.

"I don't always understand what you need or want from me, because no one has ever hold me, or loved me."

Gaara stood up abruptly, and turned away from her, just as her hand felt the mattress looking for his . Sakura gripped the bedsheets still warm, choking back on tears.

Slowly, she retreated, wounded, nauseous.

"I was always alone, that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage. I don't know if I live in a castle, but I know I lived in a prison," Gaara added his hand on the door knob.

The metal gritted violently as he opened the door.

All she heard was that he didn't choose her. He didn't care about choosing her. She could have been anyone, a nameless woman kissing him on a photograph.

She wanted more.

She didn't know why she was so emotional, why she was still looking for pieces of him that fitted with pieces of her. Where was the girl with her squared shoulders, straight back and chin-up?

"For the fundraiser, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight from here."

"Okay," Sakura managed to squeak, her tongue thick, her throat closing up.

Gaara didn't turn back toward her.

"I'll call to check up on you."

"Okay," she repeated softly and closed her eyes, shutting him out.

"Do you want me to stay?" Gaara whispered, and as always, his presence loomed over her.

Sakura shook her head, biting her trembling lip.

Maybe she had never terrified of him.

Maybe all along, she had been terrified of being erased, crushed by him.

Maybe she wasn't whole because she wasn't Sakura Haruno anymore.

"I left rice and stew in the fridge for breakfast."

Gaara quietly closed the door behind him.

Sakura counted to 100. Again, and again. Every time she reached 100, she told herself she would get up and take a shower and study for her next rotation and call her friends.

Squared shoulders, straight back, chin up, she would get up now. Now. Now. NOW!

The bed sank again to her left, and she startled, yelping loudly, before she felt his arms around her. Grunting, he shrugged off his jacket, and readjusted their positions.

"You came back," she muttered, and pressed her forehead to his neck, her hands curling over his shirt.

"It didn't feel right," Gaara replied gruffly and his palms soothed her back. "We should have hugged. Or I don't know..."

"I don't know either, but I reached for you," she mumbled and her lips brushed skin, up and up his neck, trailing closed-mouth kisses. She paused, one finger over his lip, her heart thundering. Her gaze flicked from his mouth to his eyes. He kissed her finger.

"I'm so sorry..." She lowered her head back to his chest, and her arms tightened around him.

She felt his fingers on her scalp, tilting her head back. He grunted against her lips, his mouth moving lightly across hers, nibbling slowly. She shuddered. The covers snapped off her, roughly disregarded on the floor. He filled the space between them once more, gently holding her back against him while he lied on his back.

"Where's your uncle now?" she whispered above his heart.

"Dead," he said quietly, and his hands left her back for a moment as he untied his watch from his wrist. "I don't remember much to be honest. I thought he was... I thought he was the best uncle. We all did. I never could sleep well after."

Sakura nodded silently against him, tears rolling down her cheeks, down his shirt. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms. Gaara put the watch on the bedside table, the metallic bracelet clicking piercingly on the wood.

"Are you staying? I don't work today..."

"I can stay this morning if you want."

Lazily, she nuzzled his bicep.

"We should be more open and honest about what we want from each other, or this won't ever work."

"I know," he said simply. "That's why I came back."

Sakura closed her eyes.

Maybe they did fit, frail, with the jagged broken pieces of themselves at once resting against each other and piling up awkwardly, their odd angles poking out.

Maybe...

Maybe they weren't meant to fit neatly, in an even polished piece the way Kankuro and Kiba did, or with soft complicity like Neji and Tenten did.

They were bossy and demanding, stubborn and walled-in.

This was them. Misfits.

-X-

The room was spacious, decorated with flowers and pictures of sick children smiling. And his world gleamed, pristine, each table with a different centre piece spelling out the names of its occupants.

Overwhelmed and awe-struck, Sakura tried not to stare too much.

Her silver dress bellowed around her, the silk cool against her skin, gliding and shimmering whenever she moved. Sakura held a wine glass she had barely touched.

Gaara kept touching her, his fingers grazing her exposed back, as he muttered the names and functions of people who approached them, his lips grazing her earlobe. She bowed and smiled and laughed, often leaning back against him.

"That's the head of Zhang Pharmaceutics, Zhang Liu."

One lone finger trailed down her back. Her elbow jerked back against his abdomen in a warning.

"We're in public," Sakura hissed from behind her glass.

Cameras snapped, flash momentarily blinding them.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

Her feet hurt from her high heels.

"I'm well aware," he admitted as they walked away. "You're the one reacting. That's Akimichi Chouza and his son, Akimichi Chouji from A Grain of Yum caterer. He's from Konoha, so if you could greet them in your language, it would be great."

Sakura smiled again and bowed her head. She spoke to them in her native language, Gaara standing by her side, nodding stiffly back.

They moved along again.

"Do you even speak my language?"

"Some," Gaara said, and guided her back toward their table, his hand on the small of her back.

The lights dimmed.

Her dress danced across her legs, the front of the dress rising up to her neck while her back was completely exposed. She wore heavy earrings she had borrowed from Tenten long ago. Their green gems sparkled and grazed her neck whenever she bowed.

"Like what can you say?" Sakura asked, raising a brow as they approached their table.

Gaara pulled the chair for her, and he brushed her loose hair aside, his fingers briefly lingering on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, breathless.

The tension between them sizzled, growing taut as he leaned toward her.

"I'll tell you later. We're in public."

"You're a pervert," she huffed, her skin flushed.

"They were just curse words actually," Gaara breathed as he kissed the side of her head.

He unbuttoned his tuxedo and sat down next to her.

"Ohhh! Look, Hina-chan, that's Gaara and his wife!" a voice shouted excitedly.

Gaara jumped back to his feet, and Sakura touched her throat surprised by his reaction. Nimbly, he buttoned his jacket again, and extended his hand.

"Naruto, how are you?"

"I'm fine," the blond man replied and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "She's so pretty. How did you get her to say yes to you?"

"She just did," Gaara said simply.

"Naruto-kun..." The woman next to Naruto breathed out, her voice quivering, and she turned red.

She was beautiful, softened features and pearl eyes veiled by heavy eyelashes. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, and over her lilac dress.

'15 years from now, you'll still be the girl from the gutter,' Temari whispered in her ear, and Sakura understood what she meant. Hinata Hyuuga moved with elegance, her jewelry refined and complementing her dress. Sakura could see she had thought of every detail, assembling each piece of her outfit carefully.

Sakura looked down at her own gown.

She was made of borrowed pieces; earrings from Tenten, high heels from long ago that didn't fit as well, and a gown she would never have chosen for herself.

'Maybe, I'm wrong about Gaara... Maybe, I'm the only misfit here,' she thought bitterly.

"This is Sakura, my wife. Sakura, this is Uzumuka Naruto and Hinata Hyuuga," Gaara introduced. "Naruto owns the Whirl a charity for orphans and Hinata is his fiancé. You must know her from the Hyuuga family"

Slowly, Sakura rose to her feet, her face stiff, her smile an open wound. She bowed to Gaara's friends.

"Nice to meet you both, though I think we've briefly met through Neji, Hinata-sama."

"Oh, right," Hinata smiled politely, returning her bow.

Gaara didn't touch or guide her, his body turned toward his friends, his hands deep in his pockets.

She saw it then, in the smallest tic, the softest smile; her husband didn't belong to her.

She watched Hinata more carefully, an icy hand squeezing her heart painfully. It didn't beat anymore, it burst.

Hinata delicately brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pink as she spoke with Gaara. She wasn't loud or bossy or broke, like she was.

"Nice to meet you, Sakura-san," Hinata said, and she taped two fingers to her partner's elbow. "We should go, Naruto-kun."

"Oh, yeah, you're right!" he looked at her carefully, returning her touch with a softness that gutted Sakura. "It's about to start! Nice to meet you, Sakura-san!"  

They walked away, their heads inclined toward each other, speaking to each other.

Sakura sat back on her chair. Gaara watched them for a while, before settling next to her.

"I think we'll need to meet two more directors after the speeches and the dinner."

"Okay," Sakura said and briefly dripped her lips in her wine.

"Are you upset?" Gaara asked frowning.

"I'm just tired," she replied flatly.

"Hn."

"It's the shoes," she added, her anger piercing through her voice.

Sakura was grateful when the speeches started. She glanced sideways once, expecting Gaara's pale gaze on her, scrutinizing her, as always, but he was staring at Naruto and Hinata. She didn't understand his expression. She didn't want to.

Was it longing?

Numb, Sakura clapped at the end of the first speech, and a second man saluted as he walked up the stairs. Distractedly, Gaara muttered his name to her.

She barely heard him.

-X-

Outside the venue, the breeze was cool, swirling dust and sand that brushed like sharp needles on her skin. It flattened his hair on his head. Behind them, the building was illuminated by soft lights, its front steps buzzing with people in tuxedos and long gowns.

Sakura carefully went down the stairs. Her feet ached, pain shooting sharply through her ankle every step she took.

A valet approached Gaara. He looked over his shoulder at her. He held up his hand. She grabbed it, gratefully, relief flooding through her. Maybe she was wrong, paranoid, maybe there was nothing about Hinata-

"I was asking for the car keys," Gaara said staring at her hand in his.

She dropped his hand, stung.

"Sakura, you look-"

"I'm fine," Sakura answered mechanically, her small purse flinging to her side as she looked for the keys. "Let's just go home." She handed the valet the keys, and he hurried off to the parking to get their car for them.

Moments later, their car stopped in front of them.

Sakura rushed to the passenger's seat while Gaara tipped the valet. He got in slowly, his eyes searching for hers.

Gaara sighed and readjusted his seat. He started the engine, his lips pursued.

They drove in silence, the static, the tension between them gone.

Sakura slipped out of her high heels, sucking in her breath, and wincing. She gently massaged her sore feet.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I told you," Sakura said evenly. "It's those shoes..."

Gaara exited the highway, slowing down, as he drove through the narrow streets of their neighbourhood.

"We agreed we wouldn't do this anymore," he said

"Was Hinata the woman you kissed?" Sakura blurted out, and her mouth trembled. "In the photo. Was that her?"

"No."

Sakura nodded stiffly.

She watched his profile, his permanently sunken eyes that looked bruised, the sharp lines of his face he shared with his siblings.

"The way, you looked at her... I'm sorry. It just seemed like you were close." Sakura rubbed her temples, glancing outside the window.

One day, they would stop clashing, she vowed. One day, it would be easier to stand by side, and not expect the whole world to swallow her. And she could be part of something other than her job.

Have a family. A place she had made for herself in society.

She squared her shoulders.

She straightened her back.

She raised her chin.

"I was jealous of Naruto most of my life," Gaara admitted softly, and Sakura faltered, then froze from the stabbing pain rippling through her.

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking! she begged inwardly.

"Then, I was jealous of Hinata, and their relationship."

Sakura startled.

"What do you mean?" she managed to say with a quivering voice.

"It was always easy for them to trust others," Gaara explained, and his hands clenched around the steering wheel. "To love others. I got my tattoo as a token of good fortune. And because I didn't know what love was for a very long time."

"Gaara…" Sakura croaked, and shuddered.

"That woman was a dancer, I already told you. I did seek comfort and proximity with her that night, but there's you now, and it's different."

She thawed, distractedly playing with Tenten's earrings. Her heart rumbled low in her ears, slowing down.

"I've never been in a relationship before you," he said quietly when she didn't say anything. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she licked her lips. "I just can't believe I've this life sometimes or that I've you."

Gaara drove up their driveway, and turned off the engine.

"Then, this is settled," he cleared his throat, nodding to himself. "We've each other."

Sakura smiled. She stopped him from getting of the car, one hand on his sleeve. She tugged at it gently.

Gaara turned back toward her.

"What is it?"

"The family company you bought..."

Swiftly, he cupped her cheek, his eyes piercing in the darkness. Her heart quickened, growing loud, again. Hesitant, she leaned back against his palm.

"Don't worry about it," Gaara said. "You won't ever miss for anything."

"I'm not worried about that," Sakura shook her head, holding his hand to her cheek with both her own. "Being poor doesn't scare me. I just wanted to know why did you do it? Temari-neesan... She said it was a mistake."

"Because no one was willing to help them," Gaara said simply. "Family shouldn't be forced apart and left with nothing."

She kissed his cheek.

His turned his head to graze her lips.

"I don't always understand you," Sakura breathed, out of reach, and he growled, shifting in his seat, so he could unbuckle their seat belts, "and there are times I want to strangle you because you just say the wrong things... But you always, always do the right thing."

"You look beautiful, I should have said that, I know," Gaara murmured and grimaced.

Sakura nodded, laughing, and she slipped her arms around his neck. He held her waist.

"You helped me with my debts, and I was a perfect stranger," she said softly.

"You're not a stranger anymore," Gaara frowned. "Next time, get new shoes. Comfortable ones."

"We still have much to learn about each other." Sakura tilted her head, and he mirrored the gesture, his fingers still caressing her cheek.

"I'm a patient man," he smirked.

"Kiss me," Sakura whispered, her fingers slowly curling around his bow tie.

"I was about to, don't be so bossy."

She smiled against his lips.

They had finally found each other, clicked into place, two misfits who fitted nowhere else.

THE END

[pwnyta]

Nobody ASKED for any of my shitty Pokemon character doodles... BUT IM IN A MOOD.

SO yall have to deal with it.

This is under a read more so dont come at me about it being annoyingly long. Blame Dumblr. Theres a SHIT TON OF DOODLES UNDER THE CUT.

First off I wanted to give Holly a whole classroom of friends... it wasnt GONNA be an all girls school... but I kept crankin of little girly Mons....

I dont actually have a shiny Darumaka or Eevee... but theyre two of my favorite shinies...

I drew these four after so theyre a bit different in style. Shiny Swirlex has the same excuse as the other two shinies... I just love the shiny colors

They also needed a teacher so I repurposed one of my older characters because I thought itd be funny to have a swan teacher... cuz swans are so scary but they care for their babies well.

Darla and Delilah can be bothered with threats because theyre safe with Mr Shandra.

Mikhail only takes classes that are small enough to fit under his wingspan so he can keep them all safe. And Eva and Tiffany learn from the best and just get pissed off like their teacher.

((Hes more bark than bite though... hes not a great fighter and a double weakness to Electric? Garbo. But he puts up a convincing enough front.))

And because he was a swan I gave him a life mate. The only other being that gets any softness from him.

He was an ex pirate.

Mikhail has no interest in criminals!!! So the captain gave up the pirate life and married a very short tempered bird and gained a lot of weight...because I wanted him chubby.

---

‘’Spider’’, Esi, and dear ol Dad. Despite Reds best efforts to keep Esi out of Osborns hands he still ended up an immensely shady bastard but at least hes not as broken as ‘’Spider’’.

I didnt finish their moms because I couldnt settle on a design for Spiders mum....

Now Spider works for Caedere his beloved boss who would never ever lie to him ever. (Hint: Spiders nature is ‘naive’)

---

I tried revamping Ray and Hebanon...  but Ray still gay as hell for his boy.

I bullied Sparky a little. He’ll probably be fine even if Rays got a Mega evo. Its the name of the game Ray... hes supposed to knock his opponent out... you cant get pissed when ever Hebanon gets fucked up in battle.

---

Did I post these? Am I ever gonna finish these character sheets? No. And look I forgot the most pressing detail of Zippos and thats his fuckin Arbok mark on his back. IM A FOOL.

Kreetan and his mum and dad.

So many little comic things I’ll never finish because theres too many and instead of just stopping and finishing something I keep adding to my unfinished doodles instead. This is why I dont take requests or anything.

I time where Leif and Cyndy actually grow up?

THEY ALL HAVE CAT EARS.

Zippo is curious.

.....AS A CAT.

Polly is here too!! And shes ready to punch someone RIGHT IN THE NOODLE.

I also thought itd be nice to draw out some other Chars of Zippo and Crizs generation.

Theyre.. as you may have guessed are not finished yet.

Clem is a timid lad, Mira... not so much. Very brave

Addy is a modest princess type

Jubilee is a sassy lass.

And Criz. A sweet bashful boy whos never done anything wrong and certainly will not die because no one would be cruel enough to let that happen.

((EYES EMOJI))

Babby Clem, Addy, and Jubilee.

WHO’RE THESE ASSHOLES?!

---

Updated Mistletoe. One spooky righteous(in his own mind) lad.

She only looks stoic to start... but shes quite the weirdo.

She just got here and shes ready to go home. What a mood.

Now for some less polished individuals....

Meh meh meh lookit me IM OMI. Im gonna put three of the exact same Pokemon in the same group so Pwnyta has to suffer tryna come up with different designs.

...But I do like them. I imagine that they remain Ekans because they wont need the mark of their tribe so no one will no where they come from. So spooky.

I was torn between the codename ‘Sundown‘ and ‘Daybreak‘ for Crobat.

By day hes a wholesome trustworthy priest... by night he tortures people for a shady shady bug man. He’ll determine if youre truly innocent.

Doc has to deal with all these fuckin weirdos... he just wants to be a doctor... BUT AT WHAT COST DOC?!

This is a sequel to the doodle comic I was makin in a previous post... Kop and Doc develop an interesting friendship (In Kops mind. Its more a ‘stalker with a crush’ situation) But hey if Kops not being paid then hes got no reason to hurt Doc.

...Docs a fun character to bully because hes so smarmy and small.

---

AND NOW FOR SOME SCIENCE BITCHES.

A man of few words and an intense curiosity with mortal beings and his own existence.

A spooky lad who doesnt quite mean to torment his subordinates... its just his Pressure.

Id imagine his form changes are a bit like Iron Man in IW when hes fighting Thanos.

I drew some more science bitches...

Some casual clothes for the original three stooges.

Shes deaf Franz! She cant hear you.

Ya know IDK if itd be ‘canon‘ that they all met as kids... I just thought itd be cute. Little psychic babies all doofin off together... the most troublesome one being asleep 90% of the time due to being an Abra.... and narcoleptic. Abra sleep so much naturally... Geller sleeps even MORE... thats why hes so incredibly smart even for an Alakazam.

I had a whole little redo sketch comic idea of Mewtwo breakin loose and fuckin shit up.... (its never been finished)

Franz tries to put him to sleep. (it doesnt work. He needs Emanuel and Nola to save him and he gets his arm broken for bein such a cheeky lad.)

Mewtwo doesnt have too much of a problem with Geller due to his soft spot for kids and pure desire for knowledge... but if hes gonna protect the other assholes then PERISH.

Dont worry though big boss Deo wont let his subordinates die let alone the second smartest after him... and saves them all pretty easy. A sharp tentacle arm through the chest will stop even Mewtwo.

Some booboos happen tho...

But hes fine eventually and finds his ex wife home watchin the kids.

Shes promptly expelled.

Geller also goes back for Dilla and steals him. Lifes too short not to adopt an ancient fossil baby.

Emanuel isnt delighted... but he doesnt have the heart to call the authorities on a man who risked his life to save him.

Fossil Mons come in two types-- Resurrected fossils which have the skin color of the primary coloring of their Pokemon form so they can be solid black or blue or red or w/e... Ancestors of ancient Pokemon have normal skin tones.

And another comic sketch idea... where Geller and Roswell are gifted with some fancy new Mega stones... Ros? Not too keen on the idea hes seen what can happen to a bitch when they Mega Evo... he aint got time for that. Geller goes HARD for SCIENCE.

Ros: Geller I know your a spoon guy but stick a fork in that bastard cuz hes done. COOKED. If he thinks im riskin my ass for his bullshit. Lets go tell him off together (im scared to go without you...)

Geller: We experiment on living things all the time for the sake of scientific progress.... are we really too good to be subject to our own studies?

Ros: YES. ABSOLUTELY.

After seeing Geller use his without hesitation, putting his body through a world of hurt for the sake of SCIENCE!!! Ros couldnt pussy out on his boy...

His Mega is just FABULOUS and now he loves it.

--

I was also makin a team with the Pokemon that have the highest stats (non Legends/Psudos/Megas) but I got bored after Blissey. She has a Togekiss wife I didnt finish either... Oh well.

Shes a bold lass and prefers double battles with her support wife. She doesnt like using dangerous moves as its in her nature as a Blissey to heal.

---

(I forgot his whiskers... OH WELL)

I wanted to give Flaminio some people who missed him after he got spirited away by his Ghosts.

After he disappeared people looked for him but he was never found and years and years went by and people stopped looking. Even Clove and Ceto had to move on.

Koban is a loyal bitch though and he never let it go. He still wants his friend back. Hes an old boy now... so old people probably call him ‘Nekomata‘ and wonder when his tail is gonna split.

[whirlybirbs]

studying.

pairing: college!peter x reader rating: all audiences welcome to this fluff what to listen to: roll up by fitz & the tantrums a/n: for the anons who gave me some ideas, here is the start of a potential series? or, as i would say, peter crushes on his TA.

After months of applications and tours and accepted student days, Peter had finally settled on MIT.

(It had helped that Tony had written his recommendation letter. A lot.)

September brings a new leaf.

Peter trades in the hustle and bustle for NYC for that of Boston. It is less shiny, less new. He likes it though; likes the cobblestone, the spirit, the history and the rhythmic rattle of the T under the Kendell stop. The late summer breeze is crisp as Peter shrugs his hoodie on, bagel dangling from his mouth as he chews and launches himself up the steps towards the quad.

His sense are in a haywire; it is the new environment. His sunglasses are maybe a little darker than they should be.

A week ago, his phone had been buzzing with kissy emoji from Aunt May, a good luck text from Tony and of course Ned -- his friend had settled in only a few T stops away at Harvard. The first day of classes had come and gone, bringing it with it an overwhelming sense of belonging. For once, Peter didn’t feel like an outlier.

The only text Peter is paying attention to this morning is yours, though.

pls help me study for my bio quiz later, peter, i am begging u

It makes him laugh. Peter grins, dimples digging in a little bit as he settles into a quick pace. Strawberry converse beat against the jagged cobblestone.

I mean, he wasn’t going to lie to himself -- you were, like, gorgeous. And funny. And you thought it was cool that he’d binged the entirety of Jason Todd and the Outlaws in one night. The fact that you’d excitedly added him on Facebook last Friday after class was enough; he’d messaged you, asking if avoiding the chicken at McCormick was a smart move.

You were a sophomore. You knew the ropes. Peter is totally using it as an excuse.

it’s literally the second week??? who is giving quizzes already??? who’s THAT evil???

You’re laughing, crossing the quad on the opposite side of campus when you get his texts.

It was only happenstance you two started to become friends. His first class, an 8:30am entry-level history course run by Professor Frankfurt (which was really just one big Captain America fanboy session) happened to be the class you’d decided to TA for -- and in turn, the class you’d first met Peter in. Forced to sit front row after arriving late -- he’d had trouble finding the Tang Auditorium -- he ended up being the one to sit next to you.

He was wearing a Saint Motel t-shirt. You’d stopped him after class, nervously chirping your admiration of that particular album. He’d stuttered in surprise. You were a little mortified, mostly since you had realize how pretty he was. He had big brown eyes and dimples. Dimples.

From that point forward, it was like you couldn’t escape him. He joined the Broadcasting club -- and you’d laughed out loud when he walked through the door wearing a different Saint Motel t-shirt. Comic Roundtable wasn’t safe either, as Peter Parker had suddenly become the fresh face among the small club of eight. It truly culminated when you realized Peter had taken up residency on Danny’s floor -- the R.A. was a fellow Anthropology major, and one of your closest friends.

So, yeah, texting him and asking for help on a Gen Ed Bio course quiz was kind of pushing it. You wanted to hate Peter, honestly -- as a freshman he’d already met a handful of prerequisites through his famed Stark Internship, working his way through a good half of the first year Computer Science and Molecular Biology course load. The air at MIT was competitive, but for some reason Peter didn’t feed into it. You felt okay admitting a fault.

It wasn’t like you were going to go to Academic Computing. They’d definitely roast you for not understanding cell structure and osmosis and all that other shit. You were an Anthropology and American History double major for god’s sake. You didn’t need that stuff in your brain. You needed room for other things.

So, you text Peter back.

it’s prof steck. don’t play urself. stay away from her. but is that a yes??? bc if it is i’ll swipe for u at baker!!!

Peter’s slipping through the auditorium doors when he texts you back.

Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you laugh a little when you read the message.

only if u buy me mozzerella stix!!!!

He shoulders you as he sits down. The touch is enough to light up Peter’s nervous system; he ignores the happy tingle that creeps up his back.

The stack of graded papers is jostled a bit by the movement -- Frankfurt had done an assessment on Wednesday, intending to get a gage for what he was working with in the class. So much for syllabus week. You, of course, had been tasked with grading. Not that you minded, though, it had distracted you from asking Peter to come out with you on Saturday night.

“You know,” you chirp, “Baker has make your own stir fry tonight...”

“No way!” Peter’s voice clips a bit, high and excited, “Then forget the fried cheese sticks, buy me stir fry.”

“Only if you don’t make fun of me,” you hum, rolling your eyes a little, “This quiz on is the simple stuff and I don’t know why, I just don’t get it.”

“Well,” Peter chides, settling back in his seat. His fingers dance across the trackpad of his laptop, waking it up, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

You deadpan.

Peter grins. It’s toothy.

“Is that what the Stark Internship taught you?”

His laugh is boyish. Those dimples are back. Your chest caves a bit, face hot with a gooey expression. What the hell is wrong with you? Going gaga over a freshman?

“Naw, memes taught me that one.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands as Professor Frankfurt throws himself into the auditorium in a huff, “Even better.”

You’re both silenced into a hush as the rest of the first year class follows suit. Professor Frankfurt calls roll. Your name is called after Peter’s. You hand out the exams, and then sit beside Peter for the rest of the class, basking in the warm glow of his semi-permanent smile.

“You know it’s not a date, right?”

Your roommate has her fists halfway into a family sized bag of doritos. Netflix glows from the top bunk. You’re fixing your hair in the mirror hanging on the door.

“I know, but,” you sigh, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a freshman,” she waves as The Office drones on, “He’s fresh meat -- dead in the water. That’s social suicide, you know. At least wait until after Rush Week.”

“Peter doesn’t seem like the fraternity type.”

“Yikes.”

“That’s not a bad thing!” you huff, tugging your hair up and away, “Seriously, there’s a reason why you keep getting your heart broken by dumb boys.”

“Is it because I have an affinity for beefy rich assholes named Brad?”

“That’ll do it, honestly.”

“Fair enough,” she tosses a grin your way, “Good luck on your dinner date with Peter.”

“It’s not a date!”

--

It’s not a date.

Totally not?

Why is he so nervous?

Oh god, his hands are sweating.

“I’ll have the sweet and tangy sauce, please.”

The box of stir fry is handed to him -- you’re already digging in with a goofy grin on your face. You much on the lo mein noodles happily. You’re covering your own nervousness well. Thank god for deodorant because Peter has you sweating -- literally. It had climbed into the high 70s by late afternoon, leaving Parker in a t-shirt that seemed too tight to be legal and a pair of shorts. He was tan. And he had freckles. Everywhere.

Your hair is swept into hazy curls by the late summer heat. Peter watches the curls along the back of your neck as you both work your way through the check out in the dining hall.

You both make your way to the Hayden Library, strides slow. The sky looks gold, and the clouds glow in the deep blue of the September evening. Traffic drums on, but you both are locked into conversation. Nothing is breaking it -- not even the wave of friends across the street.

“So, New York, huh?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, taking a bite from his takeout container, “My Aunt told me that if I ever went to a Red Sox game, she’d murder me in cold blood.”

“Yikes,” you chatter, “You’re missing out -- I mean, no Big Papi anymore, but Hanley Ramirez is a big deal. Be a shame if you never saw him play in Boston.”

“Are you trying to convince me to go to a Red Sox game?” Peter’s voice hitches, “Because that’s not happening.”

“C’mon, the Yankees suck,” your smile is challenging and Peter laugh as you take a few steps ahead, turning around to watch him as you skip backwards, “Turn to the dark side, Peter! It’s more fun! We have a green monster.”

“I think I’d rather take the Hulk, honestly.”

“Me too,” you wink, “Bruce Banner is an absolute babe.”

Peter laughs at that -- loud and rowdy in the late summer heat. It’s intoxicating.

Your takeaway boxes have been abandoned, licked clean, in favor of a biology textbook and notepads. Though, it wasn’t a welcome abandonment. You wanted to pull your hair out. It showed.

Your lips are pulled into a pout. Peter watches your brows screw together. The study room is filled with the chatter of a Bio101 Youtube video he’d pulled up, hoping to explain osmosis and semipermeable membranes and the importance of saline.

“See?” Peter’s pen taps the screen, “From high to low!”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Sounds fake,” you hum, mushing your cheeks together as you lean on the wooden table, “But okay.”

“It’s not fake! It’s science.”

“So,” you lean back, waving your fingers, “... magic?”

“Basically,” Peter shrugs, “My formal title after grad school will be Wizard.”

“I want to be a wizard.”

“Then --”

“And make this whole quiz disappear.”

Peter drops his head into his hands, laughing softly as he rubs his brows together. You were getting it, albeit slowly. He couldn’t say he really minded losing his Monday night to you -- in fact, he found himself enjoying this a little bit too much. Your knee brushes his under the table as you shift, eyes drawn back to the video.

His skin tingles. Hot and prickly.

“How about one more hour of studying?”

“Thank god,” you whisper, “I can do that.”

“Power hour?”

“Power hour.”

He walks you back to your dorm.

Even though it’s in the opposite direction of his.

“I hope I helped,” he sighs, “Even if it’s a little bit?”

“You helped a lot -- seriously, I think I’m a wizard now.”

You blossom with pride as he giggles, eyes screwing shut as his head falls backwards. His converse scuff against the pavement as he shoves his fingers into his pockets. Peter glows under pinks and yellows of the streetlights. It’s cute. You wind your own fingers together, toeing the ground.

There’s a weighted pause between you both. Brown eyes burrow into your own.

It’s broken by the door to your dorm swinging open and a group of guys bustling by. It prompts you both to laugh again.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?”

“Yeah! And, uh, I’ll let you know how I do on my quiz!”

“Make me proud!”

He waves, you wave, and you swear it’s the warmest you’ve ever felt.

[viralhottopics]

14 Beautiful Love Letter Excerpts From Famous Folks Throughout History

It’s always nice to let your special someone know just how much you truly care about them. Obviously, how you say it varies from couple to couple, but there’s nothing quite like sending off a sweet message and knowing just how big a smile it will put on their face.

In today’s technology-dominated society, that’s come tomean typing out a text with carefully plotted emojis or perhaps going “old school” with a flowing email of affection.

While those are nice, there’s reallyno denying that theylack acertain charmthat so many romantic exchanges in the pasthad. That’s never more clear than in the beautiful words famous folks throughout history have strung together to let their loved ones knowexactly how they felt.

Of course we expect this sort of flowery language from renowned writers (some of which are includedbelow), butyou might be surprised by just how sweet some of the others were when it came to expressing what was in their heart.

Take a look and let us know if we forgot anyprecious messages you’ve seen from the past.

And don’t forget to SHARE with your friends and family!

Thumbnail source: Wikimedia Commons

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1. Ernest Hemingway To Marlene Dietrich

Wikimedia Commons

“I can’t say how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. Nor too many things. But we were always cheerful and jokers together.”

The author and actresstraded lettersfor nearly three decades without ever getting their timing right for an actual romantic relationship.

2. Napoleon Bonaparte To Josphine de Beauharnais

Wikimedia Commmons

“Since I left you, I have been constantly depressed. My happiness is to be near you. Incessantly I live over in my memory your caresses, your tears, your affectionate solicitude. The charms of the incomparable Josphine kindle continually a burning and a glowing flame in my heart.”

Despite his affectionate words, the pair eventually split up when Napoleon sought a new wife to give him a male heir.

3. Richard Burton To Elizabeth Taylor

Wikimedia Commons

“My blind eyes are desperately waiting for the sight of you. You dont realise of course, E.B., how fascinatingly beautiful you have always been, and how strangely you have acquired an added and special and dangerous loveliness.”

It clearly wasn’t just the headline writers who had a way with wordsthroughout this iconic couple’s bumpy relationship.

4. King Henry VIII To Anne Boleyn

Wikimedia Commons

“I beg to know expressly your intention touching the love between us. Necessity compels me to obtain this answer, having been more than a year wounded by the dart of love, and not yet sure whether I shall fail or find a place in your affection.”

The king, who is notorious for walking down the aisle six times in his attempts to have a male heir, wrote this particularly moving note to his second wife while still married to his first.

5. Ludwig van Beethoven To “Immortal Beloved”

Wikimedia Commons

“We shall probably soon meet, even today I cannot communicate my remarks to you, which during these days I made about my life were our hearts close together, I should probably not make any such remarks. My bosom is full, to tell you much there are moments when I find that speech is nothing at all. Brighten up remain my true and only treasure, my all, as I to you. The rest the gods must send, what must be for us and shall.”

Unfortunately, the composer’s “beloved” remains a mystery to this day.

6. Frida Kahlo To Diego Rivera

Wikimedia Commons

“Diego, my love,

“Remember that once you finish the fresco we will be together forever once and for all, without arguments or anything, only to love one another.

“Behave yourself and do everything that Emmy Lou tells you.

“I adore you more than ever. Your girl, Frida

“(Write me)”

Frida sent this sweet letter to Diego while he was away painting a mural at City College in San Diego.

7. John Keats To Fanny Brawne

Wikimedia Commons

“My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again my Life seems to stop there I see no further. You have absorbd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you.”

The English poet was particularly inspired to write after falling for Fanny at first sight, butthey sadly never married due to her mother’s disapproval.

8. Abigail Adams To John Adams

Wikimedia Commons

“Should I draw you the picture of my Heart, it would be what I hope you would Love; tho it contained nothing new; the early possession you obtained there; and the absolute power you have ever maintained over it; leaves not the smallest space unoccupied.

“I look back to the early days of our acquaintance; and Friendship, as to the days of Love and Innocence; and with an indescribable pleasure I have seen near a score of years roll over our Heads, with an affection heightened and improved by time nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest degree effaced from my mind the Image of the dear untitled man to whom I gave my Heart.”

Abigail sent this to her “dearest friend” before heading across the ocean for a trip to Holland during John’s presidency.

9. Johnny Cash To June Carter Cash

Wikimedia Commons

“We get old and get used to each other. We think alike. We read each others minds. We know what the other one wants without asking. Sometimes we irritate each other a little bit. Maybe sometimes take each other for granted.

“But once in a while, like today, I meditate on it and realize how lucky I am to share my life with the greatest woman I ever met. You still fascinate and inspire me. You influence me for the better. Youre the object of my desire, the #1 earthly reason for my existence. I love you very much.”

These kind words were shared on June’s birthday in 1994, clearly proving the classic country pair’s love was the real deal.

10. Voltaire To Olympe Dunover

Wikimedia Commons

“I am a prisoner here in the name of the King; they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you. Yes, my adorable mistress, to-night I shall see you, and if I had to put my head on the block to do it.

“No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives. Adieu, there is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that. Adieu, my dear heart!”

TheCandide authorwrote this note for Olympe, who unfortunately doesn’t seem to have a portrait available,from behind the prison walls that her mother was able to cast him into out of disapproval. He eventually escaped.

11. Elizabeth Barrett Browning To Robert Browning

Wikimedia Commons

“You have touched me more profoundly than I thought even you could have touched me my heart was full when you came here today. Henceforward I am yours for everything.”

It seems writing 44 sonnets for her husband wasn’t enough for Elizabeth, who also shared her affection in this moving letter.

12. Tsarina Alexandra To Tsar Nicholas II

Wikimedia Commons

“Off you go again alone and it’s with a very heavy heart I part from you. No more kisses and tender caresses for ever so long I want to bury myself in you, hold you tight in my arms, make you feel the intense love of mine.

“You are my very life Sweetheart, and every separation gives such endless heartache… Goodbye my Angel, Husband of my heart I envy my flowers that will accompany you. I press you tightly to my breast, kiss every sweet place with tender love…”

There are several letters from the last empress of Russia, gushing with affection for her royal husband before their family suffered from the revolution.

13. Mark Twain To Olivia Langdon Clemens

Wikimedia Commons

“Livy Darling, I am grateful grateful-er than ever before that you were born, & that your love is mine & our two lives woven & welded together!”

The humorous author kept his sentiments short, but still so sweet, in this note to his wife in 1888.

14. Winston Churchill To Clementine Churchill

Wikimedia Commons

“My darling Clemmie,

“In your letter from Madras you wrote some words very dear to me, about my having enriched your life. I cannot tell you what pleasure this gave me, because I always feel so overwhelmingly in your debt, if there can be accounts in love. What it has been to me to live all these years in your heart and companionship no phrases can convey.”

We don’t usually think of the legendary U.K. prime minister as the romantic type, but it’s really no surprise he hadthe same mastery when it came to words of love as he did with his stately speeches.

Did we miss any other famous letters of affection you’ve seen? Let us know below and be sure to SHARE with your loved ones!

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