#also i pressed post instead of schedule on this one whoops

[did-osdd-culture-is]

system culture is getting so freaking annoyed with the amount of accounts that have nothing to do with DID/OSDD and are not run by systems that have opinions on syscourse for some reason. Like im sorry i just wanted to enjoy a nice stimboard but now youre throwing your opinions on topics that dont even involve you out there like you know what you're talking about. please make it stopppppppp

.

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[kerie-prince]

daisy cafe

Harry Potter x Muggle!reader

not a request

warnings: mentions of death, ptsd?? (in the form of nightmares)

summary: Harry starts his healing journey after the Battle, and a rainy night after a counseling session brought him into your café

a/n: hope y'all like this random imagine i wrote <3 i was meant to post it last night but i got into a heated debate about ww84 and i don't queue posts so here's this. no lie, i had a hard time writing this lol it's a whole 4k long imagine (whoops) also, when i say 'football' in this fic, i mean soccer lol

(gif cred)

The Battle of Hogwarts.

There was a lot to say about that day. So many perspectives and interpretations from different people. And today, Harry would talk to his counselor about his. At first, he opposed the idea of having a counselor but Hermione insisted that he talks to a professional. Well, insisted probably isn't the word. If anything, Hermione probably forced him into it and made the appointment herself.

So here he sat in the waiting room, sitting awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair. Even the chairs in the Hogwarts classrooms were more comfortable than these. The room was small and had tacky sunflower wallpaper. Harry sat by himself and internally cursed his best friends for just leaving him there and drove off. ‘Call me when it's over!’ Hermione had yelled out through the window.

“Mr. Harry Potter?” a young man called out for him. Harry followed him into the counselors office, noticing that the room was much nicer than the waiting room and the chairs looked more comfortable. And if he was going to be stuck here for over an hour, he better not walk out with back pain.

Harry sat patiently as he waited for the counselor to come. He noticed the golden name plate on the desk with a name written in black letters. Jon Osborne. Harry’s leg was unconsciously bouncing in rhythm with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He didn't think he'd be nervous about it as he was now. He immediately stood up as he heard Dr. Osborne come in. “Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to meet you,” he stretched his hand out to greet Harry.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir,” Harry said with a shy smile. Once they sat down, Dr. Osborne went straight into it, “So tell me, Mr. Potter, how have you been?”

“Great. I've been busy planning a wedding,” Harry stated like it was a normal conversation. “Congratulations. Yours, I'm assuming?”

“No, it's for my two best mates,” Harry corrected. “They're getting married pretty soon and I offered to help pay for it. Not really doing much of decoration planning, Hermione thinks Ron and I would pick something stupid,” Harry wasn't looking at Dr. Osborne directly, but he had a faint smile as he explained the details. “And are you with anyone?” Dr. Osborne asked.

It made the young wizard think. Ron and Hermione were getting married, Neville and Luna were having fun on small dates, and Ginny was still going back and forth with Dean. “No, I'm not with anyone at the moment.”

His counselor wrote something down quickly before going forward with the next question. “Do you think about it often?” Harry knew what he was insinuating. His breath hitched a bit. Harry certainly didn’t expect to be asked this question so early on. From Hermione’s explanation, he wasn’t expecting to talk about the Battle for maybe another couple sessions. And that was if Harry even wanted to do other sessions.

“You don’t think you need to be here,” it was like he read Harry’s mind. And it was true. “Well, I do have a pretty solid support group. We all went through it together.” Harry rubbed the palms of his unusually sweaty hands against his pants.

“So because you and your friends went through it together, you're okay? Nothing about it bothers you?” had Dr. Osborne’s tone altered just a bit, he would've sounded condescending. He sounded a bit empathetic. It made Harry actually want to talk. “Do you and your friends actually talk about it?”

The answer was clear to Harry. No. If he was being honest, he didn't think there's even a reason to talk about it. The worst had been over, and now that him and his friends and family – and by family, he meant the Weasleys – were finally in peace, Harry figured that he wouldn't have to think about it again.

But the nightmares were relentless. It wasn't like the ones he had when Voldemort was in his mind and showing him things he wanted to show Harry. These nightmares were worse. They consisted of the worst that could have happened that day. Watching his friends die, his professors, his peers. The worst of the worst. And there's one that he hated the most. Being in Voldemort's point of view and killing Harry successfully and for good this time.

Hermione tried to get Harry to talk, but he's too stubborn. So she figured the only way to get him to talk was to schedule this appointment. He was promised confidentiality and listening ears with no judgement. Harry accepted because he knew that even though Hermione would always be there, she would probably say something like ‘You're not alone in this, we're all here for you and with you.’ Ron would listen to the whole thing and suggest getting a drink and food. Harry loves his friends, but it's hard to talk about such things when they've gone through it too. He wondered if they felt the same.

—

Harry was leaving his fourth session with Dr. Osborne. Unexpectedly, he enjoyed these meetings. It felt good to talk to someone outside of his friends. Hermione noticed how he was returning to his old self, joking around and enjoying playing quidditch at the Burrow.

Harry decided on taking a small walk around the Muggle London street before calling Hermione and Ron to pick him up. After ten minutes, though, sprinkles of rain were falling down. And sprinkles turned into hard falls. Harry covered his head with his hands and looked around for someplace to run in. Next to him was a dental office, but to his luck the door was locked. He kept looking and looking for some place to stay inside until finally, he saw a building across the street with a lit up ‘Open’ sign.

Harry looked both sides of the street before running across. He was getting soaked by the second and when he ran inside, his jacket was dripping onto the mat. The place was warm and smelled lovely. Harry took his glasses off and wiped it with the driest part of his shirt. The cafe looked as warm as it felt. There weren’t any guests inside and he didn't find anyone working there. Harry saw the bell on the bread display and pressed on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, a girl came to the front. “Sorry for taking so long, how can I help– oh are you alright?” You saw the puddles of water that were splattered all around the floor. But your worry was with the stranger that was most likely freezing. “D-do you happen to have a phone around?” Harry asked you. He was shaking where he stood and all he wanted was to go home and get into some warm clothes. You nodded your head and went in the back to get the phone. Harry wanted to sit down, but he didn't want to make more of a mess than he’s already done. You came back quickly with a phone and a few rags so he could dry himself.

Harry dialed Hermione’s number and waited for her to answer. She didn't answer the first or second time which made Harry frustrated. They better not be in the middle of it right now. Finally, she answered on his third call. “Hello?”

“Hermione, what the bloody hell have you been doing?” Harry sassed. When he looked up, he saw how you stood awkwardly to the side, surprised that in contrast to his sweet demeanor, he sounded like the opposite. But that was just your assumption.

“Harry? Is that you? Why are you calling from this number?” In the background, he could hear Teddy joyful coos. “I was just giving Teddy a bath, I couldn't hear the phone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s raining really hard, can you come pick me up?” Harry felt your eyes on him still and he smiled awkwardly.

“Of course, are you still in the office?”

“No, I’m– hold on” he stopped mid-sentence and lowered the phone down, “where am I?” It took you a couple seconds to process that he was talking to you now, “Oh, uh, Daisy Cafe.”

“Daisy Cafe,” Harry repeated back to Hermione. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” And she hung up. Harry handed the phone back to you, “Thanks.”

Your hand was warm against his, a warmth he wished he had instead of the cold that enveloped his body. Harry’s legs were getting tired from standing so long and you noticed the shift in his position. “Please, take a seat,” you had gestured to a table. Harry insisted that he didn't want to ruin the chairs, but you didn't mind.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and ran to the back leaving Harry alone. He wondered what you were doing until he saw you come back slowly dragging a large heating machine. Harry stood from his seat and rushed to help you, “Where did you want this?”

“I was going to put this in front of the table so you can warm up. Don’t want you to get sick,” you spoke softly. You felt yourself warm up on your cheeks, somehow shy in this moment. On a daily basis, you talk to loads of strangers and some of them were quite attractive. But something about this stranger felt different.

Harry blinked with an indescribable look in his eyes as he stuttered a ‘thank you’. You turned on the large heater after Harry sat back down and slightly shifted his chair so he could be in range of the heaters’ direction.

You grabbed your keys from your back pants pocket to lock the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign off. “Would you like some coffee?” you offered him. Harry nodded and searched his pockets for his wallet before you stopped him, “Don't worry! It's on the house.”

There was a pot of coffee that was still hot on the warmer and you grabbed a tray, filling it with a mug, creamer, sugar, and a small plate of assorted biscuits in case he was hungry as well. You walked to his table and sat them down. He was in awe of all the things you brought out for him and felt grateful that you would do this for a stranger. “Thank you,” he nodded his head at you with a genuine smile.

“It’s no trouble,” you smiled back. You sat across from him with a mug of your own and sipped on the hot beverage you made. Harry took a sip of the coffee he finished preparing and nearly sighed at the feeling of it warming him up inside. Mixed with the heat that was coming from the heater, he felt brilliant as he usually says.

“Do you live around here?” You started small chat to get out of the awkward silence.

“No, I live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” Harry stated. He noticed the confused look on your face, you had probably had no idea where that was. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

You nodded in response. Harry then asked if you lived around. After a while, you had gotten to know each other pretty well. He learned about your two cats that are always fighting, you learned about his friends always pulling pranks on each other in the house. As Harry waited for Hermione to pick him up, he was enjoying talking and laughing with you. You two were having such a good time getting to know each other in what felt like thirty minutes, but was actually an hour.

Once Hermione was in front of the cafe and beeped the horn of the car, Harry felt a bit disappointed to leave. This was probably the first conversation he had with someone who he didn't already live with or paid to listen. And it was a bonus that he found you quite attractive. “That’s for me. Thank you… for letting me stay.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Safe travels on your way home! I hope you don’t get sick,” you waved off as you opened the door for him. Harry ran through the hard rain to get into his friend's car, but once he opened the door to the front seat, he turned back to you. “I never got your name!” Harry yelled out.

“Y/N! What’s yours?” You voiced with the same energy.

“Harry!” You smiled and waved one last time before closing the door and got yourself ready to go home. Harry fastened his seatbelt and held a small smile nearly the entire ride home. Hermione cleared her throat to get her friends’ attention. “How was the session today?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ in an attempt to not have to talk. Not because he was gloomy, but distracted. He then processed what she said and replied back to the bushy haired woman, “Oh, i-it went fine. Good, great.” Harry was stuttering over his words. It was something that Hermione instantly noticed what was going on. The last time he was like this was when he first met Cho in fourth year. It was nice, she thought, that Harry was not only getting back to normal, but was also focused on something - or rather someone - other than his nightmares.

—

Harry goes to your cafe now after every session with Dr. Osborne. He finally went for his drivers license so he didn't have to depend on Hermione anymore. Ron and Hermione apparate to work anyway, so it granted him more access to the car.

Every Monday and Thursday, you would wait for him to walk through your doors. You would set aside a small box of warm biscuits for him that he seemed to enjoy and remembered how he took his coffee. After a couple of weeks, the people you worked with would give you a smirk and tease you with ‘He’s here~’. One of them, Jo, would constantly ask you if Harry has asked you out yet. And every time, you'd say ‘No.’ only for him to reply back ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out?’

You’ve definitely thought about it, but you didn't know how to ask him. There would be times that you thought Harry would do it before he left, but he’d just be a stuttering mess and leave. So, tonight before he leaves, you planned to just be straight with him and ask him to dinner.

Harry came later than usual today. After he stepped out of the counselors’ office, he checked his hair in the mirror he saw in the hallways. Tonight, he was also planning on asking you out. He likes you and he was pretty sure you liked him too. Once he stepped outside, he saw a flower cart in front of a local bank. Harry debated whether or not to buy you some, but opted out. What if she says no? What do I do with them at that point?

After an hour of having a mental pep talk, he entered Daisy Cafe. He didn't see you behind the bread display like he always had. Jo had recognized him immediately and watched as Harry looked around the small cafe for you. “She’s in the back, would you like for me to get her?”

“I-I can wait. She’s probably busy,” Harry stuttered. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad thing that your co-worker instantly knew what he was there for. Is it really obvious? Harry thought. He saw as Jo walked to the back anyway, probably announcing his presence to you. As it turned out, you were in the back checking yourself out in the small mirror that was hung on the inside of your locker. You ran out as soon as Jo said "He’s here" and dusted the flour off onto your apron.

“Hi, Harry,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Harry greeted back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, just cleaning up. Did you have a good day?” you asked. Harry nodded his head. He was about to order before you stopped him, “Your usual today?” He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head, “I come in that often, don't I?” You chuckled and began making his coffee. “It’s alright, I enjoy your company.” The both of you blushed, more so you after the sudden confession.

You couldn't see him, but Jo was listening to your conversation and wanted to laugh. You looked at Harry for any signs of possible rejection and just as quickly looked away to finish his order. Jo came out from the back with his bag and keys in his hand, “I’ve counted the safe for you. Have a good night, I’ll head out.” You nodded your head and thanked god for the interruption, “Thanks hun, see you tomorrow.” He winked at Harry once you looked away as to say ‘Good luck’ and walked out.

Harry became nervous and thought about just grabbing his coffee and going home. He hadn't dated anyone in a long time and didn't know where to even start. Merlin, he didn't even know what to do in a relationship. And especially with a muggle. Harry nearly forgot what it was like to be around muggles after the Dursley's left their home on Privet Drive and Harry moved in the Weasley’s in the Burrow. He certainly couldn't bring you there anytime soon. Especially when Arthur would ask you loads of questions. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Neither of you knew how to get a conversation going. You took your time stirring his coffee and grabbing the small box of biscuits before turning back to him. You made yourself tea instead, having drank too much coffee throughout the day to calm your nerves. He took the styrofoam cup and box from your hands and purposely brushed his fingers against yours but made it seem like an accident. Your neck stiffened at the sudden physical contact and pulled your hands back. He felt electric and if he let you, you'd grab his hands and keep them intertwined with yours.

It’s now or never you thought. “Do you want to go to dinner sometime–”

“Would you like to go out with me–” you and Harry spoke at the same time. You hadn't processed what he said so you questioned, “Huh? What was that?” Harry thought he heard you correctly, but he asked you again, “Would you like to go out with me? For dinner, maybe?”

YES, YES, YES you chanted in your head. Your heart was warm and you felt a butterfly flutter about inside you. On the outside, you were cool and collected. But your smile could have spoken for you. “Yes, I’d love that.”

—

Hermione helped Harry with looking for nice places in muggle London. George offered his best suit to the raven-haired boy, but Harry declined because he was significantly smaller in stature than the tall ginger, and also because he feared that George would have hexed the suit to either squirt out water, or have random objects falling out the sleeves.

George, Ginny and Ron would tease Harry about finally having a girlfriend, only to get scolded by both Hermione and Molly to stop. “Harry is a perfectly handsome young boy, he should be dating as much as he can,” Molly would defend.

“Ah, but mum, Harry isn't a boy anymore,” George joked. Molly hit her sons’ head with a cleaning rag and returned to what she was doing. Harry had picked a small restaurant that Hermione recommended that was inexpensive but not shabby. He never really liked expensive places or things even though he can absolutely afford them. She suggested that she helped him pick out something to wear, but he stopped her right there. “I can dress myself, thanks,” Harry sassed.

“The one you should be helping is my hopeless brother,” Ginny joked about Ron. He didn't find it all funny as Ron had a sour look on his face and whispered under his breath, “Bloody menace.”

“What did you say?” Ginny stood straight up from the couch and chased Ron throughout the house. She may be the youngest in the house, but it didn't make her any less scary when mad. George laughed at the sight of his siblings fighting while Molly yelled at them to be careful.

Harry finally put everything together – but if he was honest, he was putting together whatever Hermione said – and went to his room. There was still a couple days until the date, but he was nervous. He’s never really gone on a date. There was the night with Patil at the Yule Ball, but that didn't end well. There were a couple hang outs with Cho in the library, but never an actual date. So he hoped that this would turn out well.

—

Harry's breath was taken away when he saw you. You looked absolutely beautiful in the sundress you wore. Looking ethereal, you hadn't noticed Harry across the street parking the car. For a split second, he almost rear ended the car in front of him.

He walked towards slowly after taking a deep breath and held a single daisy in one hand. Hermione said roses were ideal, but he figured he should come up with at least one thing on his own. Your e/c eyes met his green ones and your heart did somersaults in your chest. Once he stood in front of you, you both said ‘Hi’ at the same time. Harry handed you the daisy and you were flattered by the gesture. It was a beautiful flower and you couldn't wait to put it in a small vase and display it at the cafe.

“Shall we go inside?” Harry had one of his hands pointed towards the door of the restaurant. You nodded and walked into the place with Harry holding the door open for you and another elderly couple behind him. He’s so sweet you thought.

The night was perfect; Harry had felt comfortable in your presence. Much like the first night you had met and the times after, you both spent the dinner talking and laughing. This was the most normal, but also best Harry had felt in a long time. He hadn't realized how he never really got to be a young person due to all the insane things he’d gone through his six years at Hogwarts and then before with his aunt and uncle. But here he was with you, doing the most normal thing. Harry’s troubles were lifted off of his shoulders. There was no threat of Death Eaters terrorizing the streets, there was no Dark Lord out to get him; it was just him sitting down and having dinner with a woman that he really liked.

He learned more about you tonight. For one, you were also an only child. Other than your cats, you also liked dogs. And you occasionally played football with some of your cousins. Harry had never played football, but if it was anything like quidditch, he was sure that he'd love it as well.

At the end of the date, he took you to your underground tube station. You walked side by side, hands slightly brushing against another. You walked a bit faster to stop in your tracks right in front of him. “I had a lot of fun,” you confessed.

“Me too,” Harry expressed. You looked down at your fiddling hands while Harry couldn't take his eyes off of you. He was about to say ‘good night’ before you built up the courage and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Harry,” you beamed at him. Harry was turned into a blubbering, love-struck fool as he saw you walk further and further away. Finally, he yelled out, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Before turning away into the tube, you waved and repeated his words back at him, “See you Monday!”

—

“Well you're certainly in a bright mood today, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Osborne observed Harry from his seat. Since the date, he’s been talking a bit brighter and his smile is more genuine than when he first came in. “Could it be because you’re seeing someone after you leave?” All Harry could do was smile. “Well I’m very happy that you now have a companion aside from your friends.”

Harry nodded before he replied back, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Potter. You did this on your own,” Dr. Osborne stated. “Will you bring her to the wedding?”

“No, I don't think we’re ready for that,” Harry informed. This wedding would definitely include magic and you hadn't been close to any exposure of it. “Of course.” Dr, Osborne added. There was a bit of silence after that, which gave the counselor an opportune moment to ask about some of the things that were the reason for his weekly visits. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

Harry’s smile lowered. “Yeah, I do. But not as frequent as I used to have them.” It was true, it went down from him having them about nearly everyday to only get them once every couple weeks. He thanked Merlin you were kept out of his nightmares. He didn't need to see something traumatizing.

Dr. Osborne took notes and set his notepad down. “Well, Mr. Potter. I have seen excellent progress since day one. I think we can move down to just one session per week and work our way down to once every few weeks. I'll see you next Monday.” He opened the door for Harry and shook his hand as Harry left. Harry went to your cafe right after. The daisy he gifted you was on display above the glass bread display in a small, white vase. He hoped that you regularly watered and fed it so you wouldn't notice that Harry actually hexed the flower to never die. You were currently helping someone out when Harry stood in line. Once the customer you were with left, you noticed your boyfriend – at least you assumed he was, now – standing behind a couple of people. He waved at you, and you pointed to the usual table he sat at. It was almost like you reserved the table only for him. He nodded and sat down, patiently waiting for you to finish the line of customers.

Harry was mesmerized watching you work, the beautiful, kind smile you had when talking to customers. Some of them were obviously regulars as you asked one elderly man how his grandchildren were. Once she finished helping everyone, she started working on the usual coffees and tray on biscuits for the two of you.

Harry loved hearing about your day and he wished he could tell you more beyond what happens at home that didn't include magic. He didn't know when he'd tell you about him being a wizard. Ron and Hermione told him that if he were to tell you, you're more than welcome to attend their wedding which was still a few months away now that they have all the time in the world to plan it. He didn't know what to say, but there was one thing he was sure about. He really liked, maybe even loved, how comfortable he felt around you. He liked the way your hands felt in his, your eyes shying away when you looked at him for too long. And he loved the feeling of your warm, soft lips against his at the end of the night when you had just locked the doors and he just went for it. Because in that moment, he wasn't the famous Harry Potter who saved the wizarding world, he wasn't Harry Potter who was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle. He was just Harry, and he really liked being your boyfriend.

At least he assumed he was.

—

requests open!

[stefciastark]

Vines

Rating: T

Characters/Themes: Tony & Peter (Irondad), Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Nick Fury

Genre: H/C

Words: ~1600 and counting

A/N: Originally made for Day 11 of Webpril (a little late, whoops), I have also published this into a separate fic. If you'd like to stay up to date with how this pans out for chapter 2-3, you'll find that on my AO3 or FFN on the 'Standalone Fic' links below :) x

~Read it on AO3 | Webpril | Standalone Fic

~Read it on FFN | Webpril | Standalone Fic

Peter had never thought he’d be afraid of plants. Alright, maybe poison ivy and rhubarb, but not vines of all things. He also never thought he’d see the day when plants came to life...well okay, plants were already alive, but sentient was a whole other can of worms that Peter wished was never opened.

“Remind me to add a herbicide feature to the suits next time,” Tony chimed in over the comms. Peter couldn’t see his whereabouts, a cloud of smoke barring his view. It seemed like no matter how many explosives or sheer blunt force they sunk into these things, they were getting nowhere.

“New York is struggling with the trees as is, Tony, I don’t think we need you nuking the last patch of grass in Central Park,” Clint fired back.

“Look, can we talk about saving the forests later? I could use some more hands on deck here.” Steve was about a block and a half away from the rest of the team, having appointed himself to ‘perimeter’ duty but had soon been confronted with a writhing mass of vines that sprouted from the ground like heads sprouted from a Hydra.

Steve’s request was met by an enthusiastic “coming!” from Peter, who promptly proceeded to assume the role of a modern George of the Jungle, but instead the jungle was made of concrete, and the vines were...well the vines were vines.

Peter locked on to the small speck of blue weaving in between a forest of green, and proceeded to deploy the four mechanical arms that erupted from the back of the Iron Spider. Each arm seemed to operate on Karen’s schedule, but Peter couldn’t complain; the AI had faster reactions than Peter ever would, and if he thought about that too much it scared him.

As each metal appendage slashed and carved its way through the thick stems, thick sap oozed out like blood, but as soon as the incisions appeared, they were gone, replaced by cell membranes that were multiplying way too fast.

“Uh, guys? This isn’t working…”

“You’re telling me,” Clint grumbled, feeling more useless than ever. It didn’t matter if his arrows were covered in acid, produced flames, or were laced with electricity - the outcome was still the same. As soon as Clint came to that realisation, he had perched himself on the balcony of a nearby highrise, not wanting to risk being caught amongst the chaos. There was many a time he wished he weren’t as human. Moreso, he wished he weren’t as fragile.

“Hold on, I’ve got this.” Tony rounded the corner of the sidestreet nearest to Peter and moments later as the suit brushed past Steve, a long thin pike that exploded out from a Tylenol sized capsule dug into the ground right next to one of the vines besides Peter.

Within less than a second, Peter felt a shudder beneath the ground, followed by a geyser of dirt. The vine writhed for a moment before falling limp with a heavy thud. It suddenly looked so much smaller, no longer resembling a gigantic green tube man from outside the local car dealership.

“Well that wasn’t so bad.”

Peter groaned internally, not needing his Spidey Sense to tell him that those would be Tony’s famous last words.

The vine began convulsing, and Peter was reminded of the nurses from Silent Hill. For a moment he wished they were; then he wouldn’t have to deal with something at least half the size of his apartment building.

Rising once more to its full stature, half a dozen smaller vines broke out from the soil beneath it. Now it really resembled a Hydra.

Tony registered simultaneously the resurrection-including-birth and his position that put him at the epicentre of it all. Firing all repulsors at maximum capacity, he took off aiming vaguely for Hawkeye’s vantage point on the balcony.

That would’ve been the plan.

One of the smaller vines had snaked its way around the suit’s foot, up the ankle, and began to relentlessly squeeze. Sparks were beginning to fly out of Tony’s right foot repulsor before sputtering and going dark, and in that brief window where full-flight momentum had been compromised, the vine arched back.

Peter watched with mild panic as Tony whipped into the ground with the vine still stubbornly attached. He knew the suit could handle a lot, but what he never knew - and he was fairly sure Tony didn’t really know either - was if the suit was going to be able to come back to the workshop in one piece, preferably with Tony in one piece in it. And speaking of the workshop, after the dust cleared Peter’s heart sunk as he took in the scuffs and the scattered uneven plates that normally fit together like a puzzle. Of course, with all of their recent calls to action over the last few days and most of the other suits undergoing major upgrades and testing during an almost two month long quiet period - which turns out was a major oversight - the only suitable suit candidate was already semi out of commission.

Tony’s communications stuttered back online, jarred momentarily by the impact, and a low groan filtered over the comms.

“Tony, you alright?” Steve was almost 300-feet away, jumping back in after spending an frustratingly inordinate amount of time trying to pull an answer out of S.H.I.E.L.D who had sent a few airborne vehicles to try and scan and triangulate.

“Just. Peachy.” Each word was punctuated by a forceful attempt to remove the vine’s grip from the suit. Tony didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the strength at which it was constricting was starting to hurt. A lot. He really didn’t want to think about how much pressure the baby vine had to be exerting for him to feel it beneath the suit. He was suddenly a lot more alarmed about the larger vines.

S.H.I.E.L.D used that moment to broadcast, Nick Fury’s voice filtering over the present team’s radios. “I see we might have a bit of a weed problem. I would’ve thought gardening was a bit below the Avengers’ paygrade.”

“Just tell us how to get rid of these things, they’re giving me the creeps.” Clint broke his silence, his time surveying the convulsing vines of chaos in Central Park not bringing him any answers.

Fury was all business now. “This thing’s set up camp over by the boat house to your north. Scans picked up a large form that looks like a bulb about 32-feet below the surface. Find it, kill it, and we can all go home.”

“Roger that,” Steve replied, shifting his shield to sit more securely. “Tony, are you rea -”

“I’m gonna need a bit. As kinky as being tied up would be in any other situation…” Tony never quite finished his thought, turning off his radio as the vine constricted once more and he gritted his teeth against the crushing pressure. More of the baby vines had seemed to smell the nearby prey and had turned their attention to his figure lying supine on the ground.

Peter winced, hearing the (almost) disguised strain in Tony’s voice. The parent vine didn’t seem to care about his mentor anymore, and if it had eyes, Peter was sure they’d be twinkling in a lazy kind of sadistic pleasure. It had minions to do its dirty work now.

“Alright Queens, you and I have got this.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded. Clint had one arrow left and that method of attack had so far proven incredibly useless. Except…

Peter swung his way up to the balcony Clint was occupying near the East Green section of Central Park. “Hey, can I have your last boom arrow? Maybe it’ll work, but I’ve got a plan.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, loathe to give over his last projectile and cementing how inessential he had begun to feel. Pressing his lips together, he reached behind him and pulled out his last arrow. “Just press this bit in the middle of the arrowhead, okay? After that you’ve got about five seconds before you need to get the hell out.”

“Cool, got it. Arrowhead, five seconds, run. Thanks!” And as soon as Peter had appeared, he had started his commute back towards Steve.

Tony was lying incredibly still. He discovered that if he barely twitched a muscle - which these abominations could somehow tell beneath a layer of armour - the rate at which the squeezing increased slowed down.

“Today would be great.” Tony turned his head towards Steve, who had just shifted his attention to Peter who had arrived with an arrow in hand. Steve at once understood the plan.

“Hold tight, Tony.” Steve’s voice dripped with an authority that Tony found profoundly irritating but Peter found comforting.

“Not going anywhere, Cap.”

Steve took off at a sprint next to Peter, who was using the surrounding trees and lamp posts as targets for his webs. The closer they got to the epicentre of it all, the more concentrated the vines were. What started as sporadically placed vegetation now looked more like a dense jungle.

Peter landed softly on the grass as Steve slowed to a jog. Looking up, they were confronted with a writhing mass that looked more like a Kraken than it did a plant.

As they deliberated their next course of action, Peter’s blood ran cold as over the radio he heard Tony’s agonised scream.

[duoloopo]

Was listening to this song earlier and whoops - THOMMY FIC happened.

He Came To Meet Me

I tied my tie and smoothed my shirt down. Never thought I wouldn’t like having the confining shirt, collar and vest that came with daily life as Butler.

My hands shook as I slipped my coat on and I took a deep breath while assessing my image in the mirror.  My hair was shorter, graying a bit around the temples. I was getting too old for this.

The morning the letter came, I had to leave the table before even one bite of breakfast for fear that I would sick right on the table.  Immediately I imagined what we would talk about; careers, the family… lovers new and old. God how I wanted to know but also not know at the same time.

Mrs. Hughes was quick to it, and of course that meant Mrs. Patmore also knew.  They both talked me into it when I hesitated, knowing that either way it would bring me closure.  I’m not sure I want it.

A sharp knock at my door startled me away from my racing thoughts.

“Yes?”  I answered.

Mrs. Hughes peered in around the door.  “You should get going if you don’t want to be late.” Her smile was gentle.

I nodded.  “Right.”  I stepped away from my greying reflection and into the hallway.  Silently, she walked me downstairs and through the servant’s hall where Mrs. Patmore gave my shoulder a gentle pat and loudly distracted the others while Mrs. Hughes led me to the door.

“Well.  Best of luck Mr. Barrow.”  She smoothed the collar of my coat and I couldn’t meet her eyes.  

A hand touched my cheek.

“Thomas, this will be for the best either way. And Downton will be here when you get back.”  Her hand fell to mine and gave it a squeeze.

I squeezed it back with a choked, “Thanks.”

The walk to the pub was excruciatingly short, most of it I can barely recall.  I mostly remember how incredibly warm it was and whether it was because of my own nerves or the July heat.

I pushed the door to the pub open and saw him immediately at the bar.  His head swiveled at the sound and he smiled.

For the shortest moment, the room fell still and I could see the dust around us freeze but I breathed and he was walking toward me.

I tried to smile as his eyes swept over me. I really was getting old.

But he smiled a shy smile at the floor and I wondered if it was okay.

“You look good Thomas.”  He spoke.  

I couldn’t.

He chuckled.  “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head and he moved back to the bar. I almost followed but it was like I was moving through molasses and he had the wind at his feet.

He settled his tab and had his coat on before I was able to take two steps.  

“Let’s walk shall we?”  He said, moving to the door.  I could only nod.

We walked together in silence until we were on less busy streets.  

“So I hear the King came to visit?  How was all that?”  He asked.

“Lady Mary apparently didn’t think I could cut it and they brought in Carson.” What a sham of a Butler they must think I am.

“That’s ridiculous!”  He stopped.

“You know they don’t much care for me. It wasn’t that surprising.”  His face held incredulity.  “However,” I added with a smirk, “It was fun leaving them to their own devices when the boiler broke.”

He laughed out loud.  “Oh I can imagine their faces!”

“It was rather brilliant timing.”  We walked again.  “So where are you calling home nowadays?”  I dared to ask.

“Nowhere right now. Anstruther took me back but… well you know that just wasn’t going to last.  Favor only lasts so long.”  He kicked a rock.

“A leaf in the wind, you.”  

He scoffed. “Yeah. Wondering when I’ll fall and either mold in the rain or be crunched under someone’s boot.”  He added cynically.

“Who would ever step on Jimmy Kent?”  

He stopped again and looked up at me.  “Not you.” His cheeks were rosy under the sun.

I smiled, “Never.”

He ducked his head and led the walk again.

“So how many Footmen do you have now?”  He spoke to a passing tree.

“Not many, and they aren’t hiring if that’s what you’re asking.”  

The tree must’ve interested him.  “It’s not.”  He coughed.  “Didn’t they sack you?  Why’d you come back?”

I sighed, “They did. I was hired as a Butler with another house but it were just me there really.”  The trees really were beautiful.  “I was lonely.”

He hummed in understanding.

Silence overtook us again, not uncomfortably, as we wandered through the streets with seemingly no destination.

Finally, “I was lonely too.”  Again, he kicked a rock, and I kicked it back a few steps later. We kept our eyes on it as we walked, kicking it back and forth. Somewhere, competitiveness took over and we raced down the street, trying to kick it before the other got to it.  

He won of course, and we laughed as I suspected neither of us had in a long time.

When we came up for air, he looked around and wondered, “Where are we?”

“A back road that leads to the Abbey.” I answered, a little sad to be so close, knowing I’d have to say goodbye when we reached it.

“Well that won’t do!” He flashed a smile before darting into the woods alongside the road, whooping loudly.

I shook my head and followed.  

He ran, fast, and I couldn’t keep up. “Jimmy!  Wait!”  I laughed, resting against a tree.

Somewhere off in the distance I heard, “Can’t keep up old man?!”

Chuckling, I slid down the tree.  There it was.  Old man.

Between my shoes, I scraped at the dirt with a stick, listening to the crunching of the woods underfoot as he drew near.  

“Thomas?”  His toes lined up with mine and he squatted down.

“I had a lover.”  I said, meeting his eyes.  His face fell.  “The King’s travelling Footman.”

He sat and I watched his throat as he swallowed.

“Are you in touch?”  His head tilted.

“He said we would be but it’s been difficult with his schedule. We’ve written, but that’s it.”

“But you want more?”  He had found a stick of his own and was adding to my dirt painting.

I wasn’t sure how to answer him.  Yes was the obvious answer but with Richard?  I enjoyed Richard, and he was handsome but…

His stick touched my ankle.

Only it wasn’t his stick. It was his finger, caressing the hem of my trouser leg.  “I’m sorry.” He whispered.  His fingers dipped under the hem and stroked my ankle. “It were my fault, me getting sacked.”

“Yeah.”  I breathed.

He untied my shoe and played with the laces. “I knew exactly what I were doing too.”  Our eyes met. “Hidin’ from you.”

My hand reached down and held his. I couldn’t think of the right words but he seemed to know what I was asking.

“After everything with O’Brien and the police, I just felt like I needed to prove myself to everyone. Even you.”  He entwined our fingers.

“What’s changed?”  I dared to ask.

He took a deep breath. “I had a lover too.” I drew a shaky breath, pulling my hand away but he tightened his grip. “Funny thing about it, I couldn’t stop wishing it were you. And it all came back to me, everything here and I-“ His breath caught.  

He let go of my hand and tied my shoe before standing.

I stood as well and brushed the leaves and dirt from my trousers.

A hand touched the grey at my temple, and when I looked up, he was standing close.

“You look good.” He repeated. “And I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t write or visit or explain.”

I pressed my face into his hand.

“I’m sorry that all my sorry’s aren’t enough.  And I’m sorry I’m too late.” He pulled his hand away.

I grabbed it and kissed his wrist before returning it to my face.

“Nothing compares to you Jimmy. Nothing and no one.” My eyes closed. “I want more.” I finally answered. “I want you.”

He let out a small laugh and kissed me.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and his hands circled my neck and we kissed and kissed and kissed to nothing but the beat of our hearts and the tune of the wind and birds.

“Thank you for meeting me.”  He whispered against my lips when we broke. My heart beat wildly under his hand that had dropped my chest, his other still burning the back of my neck.

“I love you.” I whispered back before kissing him again.

We walked back to the path hand in hand and before we stepped back on to it, I brought his hand to my lips, kissing it before letting go.

He surprised me by turning back toward the town instead of the House. His eyes didn’t leave mine and he walked backwards, hands in his pockets as if to keep them off me.  

I couldn’t have torn my eyes away if I wanted to.

Up ahead, the road opened up to the town and he stopped, meeting up to me.

“I lied before, when I said nowhere was home.” A quick glance around assured him that he could leave a small kiss on my lips. “I actually interviewed for a post at the Pub this morning.”

“And?!” I laughed.

“Well of course I got it you git!” he admonished with a poke in my side.

I too, took a quick look around before smattering his face with kisses.  “Of course you did.”

“So I’ll be here. With you.”  He said, sounding like he was trying to assure himself.

“With me.” I comforted.

We embraced again before returning to the road and the town and ultimately the Pub where we lingered outside.

“I’ll be staying here, at least until I can find better accommodations.”  He explained. “I have a little saved up so I’ll be keeping an eye out.”

“Perhaps I can help.” I hoped.

“I can’t ask that of you.”  He shook his head.

I stepped closer. “I meant to stay.” I said quietly.

“What? Live together as bachelors?”  He exclaimed, just as quietly.

“If Carson and Mrs. Hughes and Bates and Anna can do it, why shouldn’t I?” I conspired.

He shook his head and smiled, “Either way, we’ll have somewhere to go.”

I accepted that for now.

“You’re probably needed at the House soon aren’t you?” The way he lingered by the door led me to believe he wanted me to come up.

“I can spare five minutes for another kiss.”

So I followed him up to his room and kissed him for more than five minutes.

Before he opened to door for me to leave, he gave me one last kiss and a whispered, “I love you too.”

The walk back to the House seemed short for a different reason than the walk into town. My head was spinning with kisses and touches and whispered I love you’s even as I approached the servant’s door.

I made my way inside to my office where a scone awaited me.  I smiled.

There was a knock at my door and once again it was Mrs. Hughes.

“Welcome back Mr. Barrow.  I take it your morning off was enjoyable?” She raised her eyebrows, unsure.

“It was, indeed, Mrs. Hughes.”  I answered her with a smile.  She came in then and grabbed my hand.

“I’m happy for you.”  I squeezed her hand in return.

“I hear there’s a new bloke down at the pub?” A voice, Mrs. Patmore’s, interrupted.  

Mrs. Hughes looked up at me. “Oh?”

“How could you possibly know that?!” I asked of Mrs. Patmore in disbelief.

“Oh I have my ways Mr. Barrow.” And she winked before shuffling back into the kitchen.

Mrs. Hughes chuckled. “Well you should probably get dressed for dinner. They’ll be ringing any minute now.”  I nodded in agreement. She walked toward the doorway and paused before entering the hall. “I’m glad to you see happy Mr. Barrow. I really am.” And with a nod she was off.

“So am I.” I agreed in the silence.  

In the distance a bell rang and I rushed up the stairs to change, leaving behind my desk and on it a pile of letters, one of which was from Richard that would go forever unanswered.

[laytonsartblog]

Okay so I'm dumb here's a one shot

I know I said everything that's a story would be posted on AO3, but, I have dumbass energy and was inspired by the reblog I made earlier and it is 2 am on a school night so WOOO incoherency is at an ALL TIME HIGH

@infinimay whoop tagged u for what I'll call the Bus Duty AU

Perhaps I'll make this a series?? Something light, fluffy, nothing too heavy on the angst (okay I lied)

--

The Wheels on the Bus (Spin the Tales of Love)

Chapter 1., Like Patton

Virgil and Damian woke up to get to school at precisely 7:30 am, and to be ready by 8:10 for when their bus arrived, every school day.

Their mother, which is now Virgil's stepmother, always said that a tight schedule and tighter patience is what wins people over. That must be how she got Virgil's idiot dad, who took nearly three years of coy smiles and teasing touches to even start dating. They had married this year, and while Virgil is certainly happy about it, he didn't realize that it came with having to deal with a new stepbrother.

That's why, instead of 7:30 and 8:10, Virgil rises at 7:15 and is waiting by 8:00. Their mother never notices, never needing to wake up this early for work, and their dad works night shift. They were by themselves, but they handled it for nine year olds. Virgil especially figured out how to handle it as soon as he figured out that despite all this change, he was still by himself.

"Vi! Vi!" Damian, or DeeDee as he liked to be called, shouted as he approached Virgil at the bottom of the street. "Why do you never wait for me?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know, you give me a weird feeling, like cooties, but nice? Like wriggling worms in my head. It's sticky."

There was silence between them as they waited for their bus.

"You give me wiggly feelings too. Truce?" Damian suddenly said after what seemed to be forever to their adorable little minds, and he outstretched a hand.

Virgil took it. "Pleasure doing business, Worm boy."

Damian pouted and pulled his hand back, but didn't need to wait much longer in cute anger as the bus pulled up to their street. Seemingly forgetting the nickname, he pulled Virgil along onto the bus.

"Hey, kiddos!" their favorite, and only bus driver greeted as they sat in the front row.

Virgil never liked the bus, despite how early he was this year. It was loud and cranky and he had to sit next to DeeDee and there were always the mean kids who flicked his head as if a ping-pong ball on the way to their seats. The one thing that made it bearable was the fact he got to sit close to Patton.

Patton had allowed them to use his first name from the get go, inspiring names like "Patting!" from the kindergarteners or "Shatting" from the mean sixth graders. Virgil never tainted the name for he saw no reason to change what was already his favorite part of the morning.

Patton gave them treats on their birthday, never forgetting a single one. Patton hugged them when they were sad and showed them that crying was okay. Patton never yelled or screamed when things got too loud; he knew better than to plague these children with learned behavior, scorn, and hatred. Instead he'd play games that involved the whole bus to busy everyone, or at the very least play music and encourage them to sing along or guess the song.

Patton made things better. But Virgil knew he was sad.

Today, even with Damian's unwavering questions at everything he saw and with the fake stories he kept saying to the kid in the seat next to them, even he could tell that their bus driver was tired.

The two observant fourth graders watched as their second father didn't smile as brightly as he usually did whenever he greeted the kids getting on. He sagged; sluggish and baggy. Virgil noticed he looked a lot like his cousin Remy before a test under his eyes.

However, despite how observant, Virgil never knew how to comfort the gentle man. It's why he and Damian are in the front row. The doctors said he has a "speech impediment" where he couldn't put the words in his head to the outside world quite right. They said his brain was wrong. He knew Damian had a streak of lying and throwing tantrums. It's why he didn't like his new brother; he only served to make him look stupider.

Still, that didn't stop Virgil from putting a hand to Patton's shoulder, at least not entirely. He didn't expect for him to gasp and jump, but Virgil didn't exactly know what to expect anyway. He just pulled his hand back and looked down at his ripped pants in shame the rest of the bus ride.

--

They got there slower than Virgil had thought, but no, they were on time. Perhaps his brain was being weird again? He couldn't tell, but either way he walked begrudgingly by Damian into the school.

They passed by their school's office on the way into the gym, which is where you wait until school started. Virgil, again, ever the observant one, saw his school secretary in the window.

He was what was best described as professionally squabbled, or in Virgil's terms, cleanly messy. Mr. Nguyen had hair that was combed back just so and glasses that hid all his worries and fears. He had impeccable pressed ties that, on the occasion, got festive when a holiday came around. He had skilled hands and Virgil hadn't walked by a day where he wasn't working or presenting a board meeting or, if he wasn't doing that, wasn't there at all for the whole day.

Virgil never really disliked Mr. Nguyen. He had no reason to like him either. But right now, Virgil could see he looked exactly like Patton did; utterly miserable.

"Hey, DeeDee, y'see Mr. Nguyen? In the window?" Virgil whispered as he sat right at the entrance so he could get a good look at him.

Damian merely ignored him. "We always see him. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is," Virgil started, already frustrated with the words that wouldn't come out. "He like- he- he's Patton today."

Damian rose a brow, a suspicious trait he most likely picked up from his mother. "You mean he looks like Patton did today?"

Virgil could only nod in relief. "Yeah! He looks Patton today. Do you think the teachers look like that today?"

Damian scanned around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on the teachers' face. However, he did spot a certain trashy boy that Damian all but felt puppy love for. He waved him over. "Rem! Rem!"

The boy, peeking from the corner around his preoccupied brother at his name being called, grinned a crooked and partially toothless grin and ran over to Damian. They merely embraced before Remus took out his backpack, no doubt to reveal some gross frog from his collection.

Virgil cared less and just kept staring at the office, seeing Patton and a few other drivers come in for their mandatory morning report before they head out to go back to whatever they do when not driving. Patton still looked like a walking corpse.

Virgil vowed to take that frown away.

However, the school bell had other plans.

--

Virgil thinks that time really has slowed down, and maybe it isn't his stupid brain.

Every minute of class felt not as much a blur as it usually was. Usually, class was as easy as it got, and today he even got to skip out of gym for speech classes. He liked the speech teacher, Valerie. She allowed him to say her first name like Patton did. Virgil liked Valerie too.

But even his marvel at how fantastic his day had been so far didn't distract him from the fact his bus driver was unhappy.

Virgil sat with Damian and all the other broken kids at lunch. Remus was there too, and as much as he loved Damian off his back, the two talking about frogs and the fact the French eat frog legs was already starting to get on his nerves. He just focused on his sandwich and juice box, never saying a word.

It became time to throw out the food, and Virgil knew it was gametime. He looked to everyone at the table before rushing, the other two running to throw out their styrofoam plates the fastest.

Sadly, like always, Virgil's dreams of success were barred by Remus's long, nimble legs and long, skinny arms.

Virgil wanted to pout and tell them that Remus always wins, but Mr. Glover came in to clean and one look sent the three of them scrambling to recess.

--

Today they had art time, and Virgil had never been more determined in his life.

He grabbed construction paper, glue, crayons, markers, tape, and a How-To: pop up book. They were supposed to be making Thanksgiving cards for one of the staff members, and technically he was following what he was supposed to do. It was just that Patton's name hadn't been listed on the board to write to for their fake post office.

No matter. He would make the best card ever to cheer up his favorite and only bus driver. Damian seemed more interested in watching Remus eat the glue stick and then calling for them to go to the nurse.

Virgil ignored the two's antics in favor of focusing on his masterpiece.

--

Finally, at the end of the day, with high hopes and spirits and even better hope for Patton, Virgil all but ran to the bus he remembers so clearly beyond anything else. Damian followed close behind, sitting beside him in the seat they always sat.

Virgil heard Patton greet him, as always. Virgil could still hear how tired he was. He looked as pale as Virgil did.

Virgil, without prompting, took out his card and shoved it into Patton's hands before taking his seat and covering himself up with his hoodie as far in the seat as he could go.

Patton watched the young boy sat back down in a hurry before looking down at the card. The craftsmanship, of course, could be better, but honestly Patton could hardly care. He read the "I Think Your Cool" at the top and then a hand drawing of a turkey, covered in glitter and Patton's signature blue.

Patton almost cried, and then did cry when he saw the inside.

It held handwritten words with a picture of presumably Virgil fighting away the storm clouds over Patton; the bus with muscles and also beating up the stormcloud. The words wrote "I saw your sad face. I want to fix it. See! Fixed it!"

When Patton looked up, sniffling and holding the card dear to his heart, he saw Virgil peaking out from his jacket. That little boy held the softest smile and even Damian stopped for a moment to grin, gap tooth apparent but not even a hint of malice could fill Patton at this moment.

Last night had been so awful, but maybe today hadn't been so bad. No, today had been fantastic. Virgil fixed his heart for just a moment.

Edit: the card! Made by moi

[riley1cannon]

Presently Untitled Superbat Fic

Yes, so, I have been wrestling with this thing since July, with many starts and stops, and no title to be found (at this rate it really may end up being called “2 Idiots Sitting Around Figuring Stuff Out”), but there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, for this first half, Clark’s POV, anyway. 

Anyway... It’s DCEU, post-Justice League, and really is just Clark and Bruce sitting around talking--about Harvey Dent, about how Smallville celebrates the 4th of July, with side trips into Alfred headcanon and references to recent JL undercover missions, and there will be a special cameo appearance at the end of part two. But this is part one, so it’s only Clark, Bruce, and Martha Kent. I don’t even want to contemplate the Bruce POV half right now...

“Clark: Chapter One”

He might not feel the heat and humidity like everyone else, but Clark could still enjoy a nice cool shower that sluiced it all away at the end of a long day. Now, if he could have a quiet night with no emergencies, no crisis anywhere, he would chalk that up as a small blessing. He knew better than to count on that, however.

He had changed into cargo shorts and a white t-shirt, and was weighing the pros and cons of rocky road versus Chunky Monkey, when his mom called.

“Clark! Clark! Turn on the Weather Channel!” she told him before he could even say hello.

“What?” He found the remote and scrolled through the channels, wondering what was up with the note of hilarity in her voice.

“Just turn it on, sweetie. You’ll see.”

He found the channel, tuning in just as a woman standing by a fountain in downtown Metropolis was saying, “Couldn’t he, like, tilt the axis of the Earth, or something?”

What? “Ma, what is this?”

“They’re asking people on the street what they think Superman should do about this heat wave.”

Oh for… Now a guy was saying he’d heard Superman had some kind of freeze breath, so why didn’t he just fly around and blow on everybody. Another was saying, “How about if he fixed the Moon so we always had a total eclipse going? That bleep’s bleeping cool.”

“Is this real life?”

“Guess it is, sweetie,” Martha said, laughter still running through her voice. “Guess you can’t blame folks too much. It’s a bad summer.”

Growing up on a Kansas farm, Clark was only too familiar with the weather as adversary. If it wasn’t too hot, it was too cold. There was either too much rain, or not enough. And if, for one rare moment everything was exactly right, ten minutes later a thunderstorm would come roaring out of Colorado to send tornadoes tearing across the landscape.

“Yeah, I don’t blame them,” he said. He did press the mute button before he got too boggled by the suggestions people had. “You know I’d do something if I could.”

“I do know, Clark. Don’t fret about it now.” She sounded like she was rethinking calling him. “I just thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

“Mom, it’s okay. It is funny. It’s just,” he shook his head, “I’m not sure how much good it would really do if I flew around blowing on everyone.”

Now she had a smile back in her voice. “Yeah, that does call up an interesting picture. So,” she let out a breath, “how was your day?”

He told her about it, the highs and the lows, most of it pretty routine. “Just a one thing after another kind of day,” he finished up.

“Uh-huh.” His mother had a note of skepticism in her voice now. “Bet those folks you rescued off that roller coaster didn’t think it was no big whoop. We watched it down at the diner. There were some mighty big smiles when you got everybody back down on the ground.”

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” he admitted, remembering the looks of fear that had given way to relief when he arrived on the scene. Moments like that were a joy. They were a huge  help whenever he longed for the days he could help people and not have it be breaking news. There was no turning back time, though, and things probably never had been as simple as he liked to remember them. “Did you have a busy day at the diner?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, smooth,” his mother teased, a smile still in her voice. He could hear her moving around, the creak of the screen door that told him she’d gone out on the porch, and a soft patter that sounded like rain. “Well, Pete Ross came in and said he felt like changing things up, so he ordered a club sandwich instead of his usual BLT.”

He laughed now and shifted the phone to his other hand as he went back into the kitchen. “Sounds like exciting times.”

“Oh, yeah, things are hopping here all right.”

“Is it raining?”

“Little bit. Supposed to be a cold front coming down from Canada. That’ll help.”

And it would soon be August, with the end of summer looming not too far off, and harvest time coming up fast. Clark already had time scheduled to get back home and help out with that.

“So,” she was patting the porch swing, calling the dog to her, “have you talked to Bruce?”

Oh boy. “I have talked to Bruce,” he confirmed as he opened the fridge. A BLT sounded pretty good, actually, and he checked to see if he had all the fixings on hand.

Infinite patience in her voice, his mother prompted, “About?”

“About…three days ago.” He got out the bacon, checked the lettuce and tomato was fresh. “He wanted some input on the Justice League logo. The headquarters is going to look pretty snazzy when he gets it all pulled together.” Ah, there was the mayonnaise, way at the back.

“Clark Joseph Kent, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Mom…” He sat down at his small kitchen table, white Formica trimmed in red, and wondered how hard he could bang his head against it without breaking it. “It’s not that easy.”

The pattern of rain sounded louder in the background as his mother said “Looked pretty easy when he was visiting us. Ask me, you two already went out on a couple of dates. You just need to make it official.”

Clark doubted Bruce would share that viewpoint. Then again, Bruce had been known to surprise him--on a pretty regular basis, actually. After all he hadn’t expected him to show up in Smallville to celebrate the Fourth of July with them. That had been one of a hundred things they had talked about during a stakeout on a rainy Gotham night back in March. He’d never thought Bruce would remember, let alone actually follow up.

He thought about that night a lot. He had been surprised at the invitation to join Bruce, and had been ruthless about clamping down on the thrill of excitement that shot through him. It was because his x-ray vision and super hearing made him useful, he reminded himself. Nothing more. If Bruce had occasion to stakeout an aquarium, he’d call in Arthur.

Although why Bruce would ever put an aquarium under surveillance Clark could not have said. Nor had he expected anything but the most cursory information and instructions about the current job. Sit, watch, listen, report what he picked up. He’d been proved wrong as soon as he located Bruce, parked across the street from the Iceberg Lounge.

Bruce popped the passenger door and waved him over. As always, decked out in designer duds, Bruce looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. Even the top buttons of his shirt were artfully undone. Clark, in jeans and a plaid shirt from the Tractor Supply store in Smallville, had a brief thought of being that thing that wasn’t like the other. It was there and gone in and instant, though. All Bruce had ever said was to once inquire if he’d die if he didn’t wear plaid. When Clark quipped back, “Don’t know, maybe,” he’d heard no more about it--but he had glimpsed Bruce biting down on a smile.

“Don’t tell me: you’re thinking of buying it,” he said, looking over at the night club. Until recently the place had been the hottest spot in Gotham, and you had to be a Bruce Wayne or part of his entourage to get inside. Now, with Oswald Cobblepot locked up in Arkham--again--it was shut up and dark.

“Funny,” Bruce grumbled. “Is anything going on over there?”

As Clark checked, Bruce told him about information he’d turned up that Two-Face--Harvey Dent--might surface at the club to muscle in on what was left of the Penguin’s operation. That was unexpected. He had gathered Harvey Dent was an especially sensitive subject, and one that Bruce didn’t share easily. He wanted to read volumes into Bruce letting him in on this. Best to pare that down to Cliff Notes, though, he suspected.

“It’s quiet,” he reported, completing a scan of the club. “No signs of life to speak of.”

Bruce canted him a look, eyebrows raised. “To speak of?”

Clark shrugged, “Couple of rats in the kitchens.”

“Four-legged variety?”

 “Yep.”

“Hhn. Health Department gave it a passing score on its last inspection.”

“And of course there’s no corruption in Gotham.”

Bruce’s only comeback was a grumpy look. He relaxed back into the driver’s seat and reached for one of two cups of coffee. He jerked his chin at the other one. “That’s yours, if you want it.”

Clark nodded his thanks and reached for it. He took a sip, savoring the flavor. Smooth and rich, not as sweet as he usually took it, but with plenty of cream. “It’s good.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

Clark smiled and took another drink, skewed in his seat so he could watch Bruce and keep on the eye on the club. “Do you do this a lot? Just sit and watch?”

“That is the definition of a stakeout.” Bruce took a long drink of his coffee, to all appearances relishing every drop like an elixir of life. Every drop that was likely strong enough to peel paint, and untouched by any taint of cream or sugar. Clark didn’t know how he did it.

He also didn’t understand his sudden fixation with that glimpse of Bruce’s throat, with watching the muscles work as he swallowed. Well, that was the story he was sticking with anyway.

There wasn’t anything sudden about it, either, if he was being honest. Clark had been struck by him that first night, at the library gala. Perry had meant the red carpet assignment to be a reprimand, and Clark had felt it. Bored out of his mind and chafing to be anywhere else, he had been ready to provoke more wrath from Perry when a sleek Aston Martin pulled up. Everything changed the instant Bruce got out of that car. Clark’s attention had perked right up and been riveted on the newcomer, the other man’s charisma sparking the atmosphere. It had called to Clark so strongly that, even without the Gotham connection, he felt he still would have sought Bruce out in the crowd.

He thought about that night sometimes. Now and then. Wondered about the what-ifs. Impossible to know if anything could have played out differently, let alone if it would have changed anything. What mattered was they were here, now, on this rainy night in Gotham, and this second chance eclipsed all the what-ifs. He wouldn’t trade this for a Pulitzer.

“Something funny?”

Clark dialed down his smile and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Hhn.” Bruce eyed him with a flicker of suspicion and set his cup back in its holder “It’s a longshot Harvey will show up,” he said, shifting in his seat. “The last solid intel on him was that he’d gone to ground over in Bludhaven.”

Clark nodded, careful not to betray any surprise that conversation had come back to Harvey Dent. Maybe he wasn’t meant to contribute anything, just be a sounding board. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, he decided. “You’ve known him awhile.” 

Bruce’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Nothing else betrayed any sign of tension. Seconds ticked by and Clark was ready to accept that there would be no reply, when Bruce’s shoulders relaxed a fraction and he eased back in his seat. “We go back,” he admitted. “Used to paint the town together.”

Nostalgia whispered across Bruce’s face, caught in a wistful smile as he spoke. Clark knew the facts. How Handsome Harvey Dent, Gotham’s dynamic, young district attorney brought mob boss Sal Maroni to trial, and how Maroni retaliated by splashing acid in Dent’s face, scarring him physically. How the scars went much deeper, his mind turning on him so that he emerged as Two-Face, flipping a coin to decide if someone lived or died today.

Those were the facts, stark and brutal. Clark doubted they came close to conveying the impact of the tragedy on those had cared for Harvey Dent.

Offering his sympathy was feeble, he knew, but he had to say something. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce shrugged it off, tried to anyway. “It’s a long time ago now.”

“And you’re supposed to be over it?”

“So I’m told.”

Not by anyone who really knew him, Clark would bet. Not by anyone who had experienced the loss of a loved one. Almost twenty years had passed and he still felt the ache of his father’s death at unexpected time--while working on their old tractor, or watching Patrick Mahomes throw a game-winning touchdown for the Chiefs. He didn’t know how to begin to mourn for Krypton, for the mother and father he’d never know. One of his secrets was that he even grieved for Zod, for lost chances and what could have been if only Zod hadn’t been hellbent on annihilating all life on Earth.

Time did heal, but the memories were never far from the surface. 

“Could you have saved him?”

Bruce sighed, fingers tapping on the steering as he aimed a pensive stare through the windshield. “Maybe not. I’ll never know for certain.”

Since he’d made it this far, Clark edged out a bit further. “Could you have guessed he’d become Two-Face?”

Bruce shook his head. “I knew he had some...anxieties, that he had that coin flipping fixation.” His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “Nothing that prepared me for Two-Face.”

“But you beat yourself up about it anyway.”

Bruce offered him a wry smile. “He’s my friend.”

Clark nodded. He didn’t miss the present tense wording, nor was he surprised by it. Not anymore. The contrast between when they believed the worst of each other and now, when they could sit and talk like this, verged on the surreal at times. 

He shifted around in his seat and took another drink of coffee, starting to feel a buzz of his own anxiety. It had been there since he came back, a creeping unease that whispered the walls were too close and confining even in the middle of the Daily Planet bullpen. Distractions helped, and he reached over to scrub at the fogged up windshield, scanning up and down the street.

“Something?” Bruce asked, tensing as if ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“No.” Clark shook his head, relaxed back into his seat. “Everything’s still quiet.”

Bruce gave a sharp nod, as if confirming something to himself. “I don’t think he’ll show,” he said, half to himself. Difficult to be sure if relief or disappointment threaded through the words. “We’ll give it a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” Clark watched drizzling drops of rain slither down the windshield, that random twinge of claustrophobia easing away as he concentrated on absorbing the cozy intimacy of the setting. Something else it would be best not to dwell on, and he scrambled for a new topic, prompted by a comment Barry had made in passing the other day. “So did Diana and Alfred really do the tango when you took down the Jade Jaguars?”

Bruce scootched around, eyeing him. “Someone’s been telling tales, I see.”

“Was it meant to be a secret?”

“Apparently not.” Bruce took another sip of coffee, pulled a face and put the cup down. “It was the foxtrot, not the tango, and it was part of their cover, not a celebration of the takedown…”

to be continued

Note: The idea that, in the wake of being dead, Clark might suffer bouts of claustrophobia was the inspired idea of @oneiroteuthis.

[kingdomheartsmarts]

You bless us with so many great headcanons, i always feel bad to ask for more when the first post is already over three screens long! Though i've had a slightly different idea earlier- how would their life look like when s/o would be in a poly relationship with the guardsmen and the local scienctist dad? What does Ienzo think about it?

a-n: look I would have them if my boyfriends too if I could- so i went ham again. whoops. i really loved this though! @lucky0stars has a similar prompt that I like so I did my best to do something that was different from them. I hope you enjoy! Don’t be afraid to request again I have nothing else to do but write. (lol some smut under the cut again i couldn’t help myself. 

This goes along with this prompt

Poly! Aeleus x Dilan x Reader x Even 

When it’s you four in a bed, Even normally is clinging onto Dilan’s or Aeleus’s arm or side for dear life while you lay on Aeleus’s chest, normally after forcing Even into an actual sleep schedule instead of letting him stay in the lab for days on end 

Even actually sleeps in a lot of you let him, forcing whoever he was clinging onto to stay in bed longer, which is normally Dilan, and when this happens it’s hard to wake them up 

You and Aeleus will leave them be if they have nothing to do and go to cook breakfast for them, sometimes making an extra plate if you have a suspicion Ienzo hasn’t eaten in a minute 

Speaking if Ienzo, Even and Aeleus were already protective over him, Even more so than Aeleus, but now it feels like he has four parents. You always make sure he’s been sleeping and eating, Aeleus checks on him to make sure he doesn’t overwork himself, and Dilan makes sure Even doesn’t overwork him. It’s odd but endearing. 

Ienzo didn’t catch on to the fact that Even had three partners until he secretly saw you kiss his cheek, then Aeleus holding his hips the next day, then Dilan full-on making-out with him the next day. He was confused for a while until he caught a glimpse of Even’s neck one day, which was covered in different sized hickeys 

Ienzo questioned him about it, and while Even got flustered and embarrassed, Aeleus calmly said they were all together, which was a big lightbulb moment of Ienzo 

Sometimes you also bring him ice cream or a sweet. Ienzo gets loves sweets. 

If Even has been in the lab all day for way too long, Aeleus will tell you and you can normally convince him to go on a walk with you, helping him get his mind off of things while you hold his hand, talking about anything and everything. He loves walks like these, just small talk and being able to clear his head while he has someone he can just talk to about it. 

Even secretly enjoys you being in the lab so often, it makes him feel like there won’t be an accidental repeat of what happened so long ago

Even likes your body, it’s a contrast to his own tall and a stick limber, and he loves your hips and butt. He’s an ass man. Dilan loves your body but that’s not what caught his eye originally and Aeleus loves your body 

Even also hesitantly compliments you, scared to overstep, but once you reassure him you enjoy them, he does it slightly more often. Whenever he compliments Dilan, Dilan gets the biggest smug smirk and will start to tease him. 

Dilan tends to enjoy teasing Even whenever Ienzo is not there, coming behind him and holding his hips against his own, nibbling at his ear, roaming a hand under his shirt before going back to his guard duties 

It always leaves Even hot and bothered, blushing from the tip of his ears to the bottom of his neck, trying to calm himself down before Ienzo comes back 

Aeleus tends to refrain from teasing everyone while they're supposed to be working, but if you come in and try to tease him, he gets a hungry glint in his eyes which you will pay for when he gets home 

Sometimes it’s fun to go and tease all of them, being respectful of Ienzo of course, walking around Dilan and a just-too-short dress, rubbing up Aeleus’s arm while you talk to him, or hugging Even from behind, making sure to press your breasts against his back-just enough to get in their head before you leave for the day 

Even tends to be the most needy out of everyone, ignoring his own needs until he’s grinding against you, holding your hips and whimpering, just for the other boys to come up behind him and start ravishing him; hands running up his shirt while he’s hastily stripped, bites along his neck, and his nipples being pinched until he’s begging for someone to do something 

You’re the best at blowjobs, Even is the best at eating you out, Aeleus is the best at eating ass, and Dilan is the best at sexual choking. 

Even will never admit this out loud, but he loves the guard uniforms. Sure, they had them 10 years ago, but then he saw them in the same black robe for 10 years- so a man in uniform does turn him on. 

Even tends to be the kinkiest. 

If all four of you do it, it ends up normally with Dilan laying down, Even riding him while Aeleus thrust into him, as you on his face; Aeleus sucking and biting on Even’s neck, Even’s hands rubbing down Dilan’s muscle while he kisses you, and you holding Dilan’s hair in one hand, facing Even and making out with him, and Dilan’s moans and licks on your core causing you to moan. 

You and Even tend to be the most vocal, moaning at every touch and groaning loudly when you both orgasm 

Afterward, you’re all exhausted and normally ignore the mess until morning, kissing on each other until you fall asleep in a pile of limbs

[dusty-cookie]

Careful What You Wish For - NSFW Negan One-Shot

This is my contribution for @embracetheapocalypsewithme‘s 400 Follower Negan Challenge. The prompt I chose was the opening line “Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

It’s also a continuation of my kinky fic Happy Fucking Birthday. Lots of people seemed to like that one, so I decided to do a bit of a series.

Pairing: Negan X Reader/You

Warnings: Smut, BDSM themes (Femdom, Gagging, Anal)

Word Count: 3024

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11765361

Forever Taglist: @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts @embracetheapocalypsewithme @lupienne @lovingzombiechaos @kinkozan

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

Negan sat on your bed, his back propped up against the headboard, his hands behind his head, a grin on his face. You sighed and rubbed your temples. For the past twenty minutes you had been trying to finish some schedules -and for him, no less- but ever since he had waltzed into your room, declaring that he was bored and horny, your concentration had slowly gone down the drain.

The man would not shut up.

Any request from you to please be quiet and let you finish had been met with a couple of seconds of silence, only for him to resume his one-sided conversation as soon as you had finally found your focus again. Your last demand to “Shut the fuck up, Negan!” had been met with the scene before you now. A cocky grin, an impertinent answer and the first stabs of an imminent headache slowly creeping up your temples.

“Not feeling well, baby? I got just the thing for you. Come over here and let Doctor Negan make you feel better!” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and rubbed his crotch with one hand.

It had the desired effect of making you laugh, even if it still sounded a little exasperated.

“I really have to finish this. My boss won’t be happy if I don’t get these to him in time.” You stared pointedly at him.

“Well, fuck your boss!” You looked at him questioningly. “No, seriously. Come fuck your boss!”

Damn him and his talent for making you laugh.

“Can you wait just ten more minutes, please? Just be quiet for ten minutes and then I promise I’ll join you, okay?”

“Pfft… fucking fine, then.”

You turned back to the papers in front of you, scooting your chair a little so the bed wasn’t in your periphery anymore. You needed complete concentration and Negan had a habit of fidgeting whenever he had to sit or lie still for a while: bouncing a foot up and down, tapping his fingers on his thighs, playing with your nipples…

Sure enough, after only two or three minutes, you heard a rustling behind you. Keeping your eyes stubbornly on your work, you ignored the noises and after a couple of seconds, all was blissfully quiet again.

You focused on the papers again, trying to determine who would have to do which shift. You added names and times, scribbling furiously, double-checking the notes on another page, cross-referencing with the schedule from last week. And then you heard it: a gasp followed by soft moan.

Straightening your back and clenching your eyes shut in annoyance, you threw the pencil on the table and sighed.

“I told you to be quiet.”

“And I told you to come over here and make me.” His voice was hoarse and his breathing erratic.

You knew exactly what you would see if you turned around. The sight of him still made your breath hitch when you stood up and faced the bed. He was sprawled over your sheets, his clothes abandoned on the floor, his right hand slowly pumping his dick.

Your eyes locked onto his and you couldn’t help but grin while walking over to him.

“Now where have I seen something like this before? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“How about you put your finger on me? Or several… all of your fucking fingers of all of your fucking hands, all over my fucking body.”

And that’s exactly what you did, after sitting down next to him. Your hands started at his neck, went over his shoulder and his chest, your nails lightly scratching over his nipples. You were rewarded with a low growl and Negan closed his eyes in pleasure. Going further down, you stroked over his stomach and followed the trail of hair down to his cock. You stopped and watched him touching himself. A warm feeling settled in your groin and you licked your lips and looked back up. Negan watched your face curiously. He loved seeing your reactions to his and your own arousal.

You stood back up and slowly removed your clothes, all the while watching either his hands or his face. The panties you removed last were already drenched.

“What do you want to play today, baby? Bit of spanking? Bit of choking? Bit of both? The whole delicious fucking sex cake with some creamy icing and kinky sprinkles on top?”

You chuckled and straddled him. His hands immediately went from his hard cock to your naked waist. You looked up at the headboard and grinned to yourself. The red satin band from your ‘birthday celebration’ was still wrapped around one of the posts. Negan and you implemented the unassuming prop into your sex life on a regular basis.

He turned his head a little to see what you were smiling at.

“Tying me up, huh? Getting a bit fucking repetitive, but whatever my mistress says.”

Negan calling you ‘mistress’ had the immediate effect of your legs getting weak and your heart stopping for a moment. With a moan you claimed his lips, pressing down hard. Another moan, this time from him, followed when your tongues found each other, dancing and twirling and licking in a battle for dominance.

He was right, you really did like to see your leader tied up and at your mercy. Today, you had other plans, though.

“I distinctly remember telling you to shut up,” you whispered into his ear before biting your way down his neck.

“Whoops… must have slipped my fucking mind. It’s like fucking magic how I just can’t seem to hear some things.” He gasped when you sank your teeth into the crook of his neck. “Guess the only way for me to learn is if you fucking punish me.”

“I think so, too. But a little differently this time,” you grinned while sitting back up. He looked at you, smiling in anticipation. You leaned down to the side of the bed and grabbed his pants to slide out his leather belt. You studied it for a moment, deciding that it had just the right width. Negan's eyes widened. “You told me to make you shut up. Open wide!” And you placed the belt over his mouth. He obediently opened it and bit down on the supple leather after you had placed it between his lips.

Bringing the ends of the belt behind his head, you closed it with the adjustable clasp.

���Too tight?” He shook his head. “Good. Now grasp the headboard and don't let go, or else you'll regret it. Let's see how well my pet can control himself.”

Negan did as he was told and laid his head back against the pillow, visibly relaxing. You slid down his legs until your head was level with his cock. Starting with a series of soft kisses all around his thighs and pelvis, you slowly worked your way towards his erect middle.

“Since I finally made you shut up, we need to find a way to let me know if you want me to stop.” Negan raised his head again to look at you. Seeing his jaw straining against the dark leather sent another wave of pleasure and wetness to your already aching core. You used the opportunity of sitting up and thinking about an alternative for a safeword to slip a hand between your legs. You closed your eyes for a moment, circling a finger around your clit.

Releasing a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, you opened your eyes again to see him staring at what you were doing. His dick twitched and his hips bucked a little. You were quite proud of him for keeping his hands to himself. All your training on him was starting to pay off.

“I got an idea…” You grinned and switched your hand from your groin to his, gently massaging his balls. His head fell back and a muffled groan escaped his lips. “Instead of a safeword, I want you to bark like the good little puppy you are.”

His eyes shot open and he looked at you with furrowed brows. Your hand immediately left his balls and you leaned forward to tightly grasp his jaw, making him stare into your eyes with a pained expression.

“Any objections?” you hissed and he shook his head, “Good. You’re my little bitch and if I want you to act and sound like one, you’re gonna do as I say!”

You released his jaw. He grinned through the belt and gave you a muffled “Woof! Woof!” that caused you to shake with suppressed giggles.

Returning your attention to his dick, you went back to gently rubbing and massaging his balls. You leaned down and ran your tongue slowly all the way from the base to the tip. The resulting moan made you happy that Negan was still able to make some sounds. You loved his gasps and whimpers way too much.

You lay down on your stomach between his open legs, elbows propping up your upper body, and formed an O with your index finger and thumb to grasp his dick. Curious about what other sounds Negan was capable of, you carefully pulled his rock-hard member towards your face and slid your lips over his tip and all the way down until he was almost completely inside your mouth.

A loud groan that made you grind your pelvis into your mattress.

You released him again, just before your gag reflex could overwhelm you. Looking up, you could see him holding on to the headboard with white-knuckled fingers. You took him into your mouth again and started to bob your head up and down, deliciously slow at first, twirling your tongue around his tip every time you went up and letting him hit the back of your throat every time you went down. He moaned with every one your movements.

One of your hands was back to taking care of his balls, massaging and squeezing. You used to neglect this particular body part until Negan had shoved your hand down there once, telling you to “Take care of my fucking nuts, babe!” during one of your rare, but nonetheless very satisfying sessions where he had played the dominant part.

Negan was already panting like a dog in heat. You grinned to yourself, thinking about your degrading order earlier. Since you didn’t want to let him get too comfortable or even come prematurely, you decided to add a little pain to the pleasure and tugged lightly on his scrotum. He bucked his hips and sucked in a pained breath, only to moan loudly again when you let your mouth slide down his cock all the way until he hit the back of your throat. You counted the seconds you were able to keep him deep inside until the pressure became too much and then released him with a gasp.

Going back to a steady rhythm with your mouth, you spread some of your saliva all over his balls with your hand. You always made a mess when deepthroating him. It made for some decent lube, though and an idea sprung to your mind.

Your index finger crept further down to the area between his scrotum and anus and you started to apply some pressure there. You kept your eyes on Negan’s face to see his reaction to you exploring new territory.

Your lover was lost in his own pleasure. His eyes clenching shut, he moaned loudly and deeply while you rubbed your finger over his surprisingly soft skin, edging closer to his anus. Your own arousal had been reduced to a low simmer while you watched for any signs of discomfort in him. You circled the tip of your finger around his entrance and let him slide out of your mouth, licking up and down his shaft instead.

After a couple of seconds of licking and playing with his hole, you sat up and reached for your nightstand drawer. Negan opened his eyes, still panting and watched you coming back with a small bottle of lube. You popped open the lid and squirted some of the liquid on his balls. Spreading it further down with your open palm, you closed the bottle and threw it next to him on the bed, in case you would need more.

“Tell me if you want me to stop!” you said quietly and he nodded with wide eyes, clearly desperate for you to continue your ministrations.

You settled back into position between his legs and started by kissing and licking up and down his cock, while your hand went back to his scrotum, coating your fingers and his skin with lube. Your index finger massaged his perineum again only to then start circling his anus, slowly pressing down more and more. You took your time preparing him for what was to come and his enjoyment was palpable. Taking him into your mouth again, you carefully slid the tip of your finger into him. He groaned loudly and jerked his hips up. Grinning, you eased into him some more, his muscles clenching around your finger. When he relaxed again, you pushed further and you kept up this rhythm until your finger was almost all the way in.

You stopped for a moment to let him adjust to the feeling. He was breathing heavily. When you felt him relax, you slid your lips up and down his cock again, making him moan. After a couple of minutes of sucking and licking you started moving your hand, slowly and gently thrusting your finger inside his hole. The effect on him was instantaneous. A shiver went through his body that turned into him twitching and jerking, holding on to the headboard as if his life depended on it. His whimpers and groans were muffled through the leather belt and it was the most erotic sound you had ever heard.

Now that you didn’t have to concentrate on his comfort anymore, you could feel the heat pooling in your center again. You kept grinding into your bed, desperate for some friction and your resulting moans seemed to only heighten Negan’s pleasure.

You could feel him shuddering underneath and around you and you released him from your mouth to look up at him, all the while sliding your finger into him again and again.

“Do you want to come like this, pet? Do you want me to keep fucking your ass?” He shook his head. “Then what, pet? Want me to ride your cock until you shoot your load inside me?” He nodded and you chuckled, carefully removing your finger.

You grabbed his dick and positioned yourself over him. Negan’s eyes found yours and you slowly sank down onto him, both of you closing your eyes and moaning when he was all the way inside of you.

Rocking back and forth, you soon found a rhythm that sent you to the edge. You didn’t want it to end, yet, though, so you stopped for a moment and slid your hands up his chest. You cradled his face in your hands and went down to kiss his cheeks, forehead, neck and upper lip. When you sat back up, you saw that he was smiling.

“You have been such a good pet today. Keeping your mouth shut and your asshole open, grabbing that headboard all the while… I think it’s time for you to let go now.”

You hadn’t even finished your sentence before Negan sat up, one hand grabbing your waist, the other removing the belt from his mouth. He threw the makeshift gag across the room and pulled your hips down hard, again and again.

“Fucking hell, babe…” he whined through clenched teeth while burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His moans and curses and the feeling of your clit rubbing against his lower stomach hard and fast and his cock sliding up and down inside your core took you closer and closer to your release. Negan was already too far gone. Strong arms wrapped themselves around you and he all but screamed your name. Your hands went behind his head and into his hair and you put your forehead against his, as the waves of your orgasm hit you. You cried out, your eyes squeezed shut, lost in a sea of fiery pleasure.

As the feelings ebbed away, you opened your eyes to see Negan watching you intently, a small smile playing on his lips. Still sitting in his lap, you held each other while you both caught your breath. You laid your head on his shoulder and weaved your fingers through his hair and he stroked your back and sighed contently.

After a while, your knees and thighs started to hurt, so you kissed him passionately before climbing off of him to lie down on your back. Negan immediately cuddled up to you and draped half of his giant body over yours, his head on your shoulder. You resumed massaging his neck and head. He drew lazy patterns over your stomach and breasts with his fingertips.

“Well that was fucking awesome.” He sounded sleepy.

“I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure at first…”

“Liked it? Babe, I went off like a fucking rocket. Next time you gotta put another finger in.”

“Next time, huh?” You chuckled.

“Fuck yeah! Or maybe we’ll switch. I bet you’d like that shit, too.”

You thought about that for a moment. You had always been skeptical about anal sex. Then again, you also never would have thought that you would tie up your boss and spank his ass until it was as red as a baboon’s backside.

“Yeah, we can try that next time. If you promise to be gentle,” you said after a while and then yawned.

Negan didn’t answer. He had stopped running his hand over your body and it was instead sprawled over your stomach. You could feel and hear him breathing deeply. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes, eager to join him and have a nap yourself.

[fit-physicist]

12 Week Challenge - Week 4

tl;dr: been to the gym 100% of the times. Improved eating. Weight gain in expected/hoped range. seems to include a fair amount of muscle mass. Body stats not really powerful. Unhappy with recent (forced) workout changes. 

As always one week behind, and one day too late with the summary :D Things have gotten better overall, except for some workout changes. We’re one month down, so it was time to take measurements again. But first the weekly update!

Gym All workouts like scheduled! So that was good. Buuuut there are two major downsides: i) my right wrist hurts when I’m doing any kind of barbell pushing motion (or machine with a certain grip angle). I think it might origin from when I fell from the bike, since there were some wounds on the same spot. Maybe I damaged some slowly regenerating tissue… muh. I had to change my push workout significantly. My 2 main exercises, bench press and barbell shoulder press had to go, instead I’m doing a machine bench press (which has a weird range of motion) and dumbell shoulder presses. Both with less weights and more reps. But my wrist can take that so… at least I can do something else ii) For those who don’t know, I have a strong lordosis of my thoracic spine, which results in reduced damping of vertical impacts. So heavy squats never felt really good, but not bad either. Same for deadlifts. Except that last time after squats it felt REALLY bad. After some consideration, I decided to not do any exercises that compress my spine a lot anymore. So heavy squats and deadlifts are out. I will try make up for that by different exercises, mostly single-leg work with dumbbells and reps from 10-15 (or if necessary barbell, but that will be significantly less load). I wonder how that will end up. I might do goblet squats as a finisher, where I won’t be able to use heavy weights anyway :D Plus side: I got new resistance bands today, so I will incorporate adductor/abductor work and band leg curls. WHOO

So yeah. One of my major goals, getting stronger in my main lifts, is basically fucked. Hopefully I can still make the best out of hypertrophy. I’m a bit sad about not deadlifting anymore, because let’s be honest. It’s just a badass exercise. But especially long term I don’t want to put my spine under unnecessary stress. It might not show now, but if I fuck up here, I will be fucked for the rest of my life. So I’d rather not risk that

Nutrition: Still improving. I had one or two fast food options (but that was kebap and I think chinese (or was that week 3?)). So not the worst options! My homemade meals steadily improve and I get better with making tasty meals without having to look up recipes. I also get better at estimating calories without using scales. also my farts smell really bad lately and I don’t know if that’s my body getting used to it or what the fuck is going on :D

Caloric surplus: This also went well. My weight was all over the place this week, the post-wedding days were super fucked up? But from what I can see from fitbit and mfp, I’ve always been in a surplus of ~200kcal. It might be a bit more or less sometimes, but overall I did well. 

Body stats okay, first the weekly weight update, then the monthly comparison

weight week average: 70.3kg (+0.6kg). whoops. that was double the amount I aim for. But then again the last 2 week had uncomplete measurements and the wedding weekend did weird shit to my weight. A quick calculation gives an uncertainty of the mean of 0.16, so… 0.3kg gain is still in the uncertainty xD (please don’t go on a science digression with me now, I’m just messing around). Also looking at last weeks weight, that should average out nicely :)

monthly weight change: 69.3kg -> 70.3kg so 250g per week. Perfect.

bodyfat: 16% I did not measure correctly last month, so I can’t really compare it. I only can estimate from slightly wrong measurement (and shitty scales) that it was between 14-16%. Althoug 14 is unlikely. But I guess the fat gain is on a reasonable level.

Nooow the body stats. I took all the measurements unflexed, and that’s so depressing :D Maybe I also should take some stats when flexed. Might be better to measure muscle growth. Anyway:

region:  last months circumference -> now waist: 81.1 cm -> 79.3 cm (I don’t trust that) chest: 87.2 cm  ->  88.5 cm arms: 32 cm  -> 31.6 cm  forearms: 26.3 cm  -> 27.1 cm shoulders: 110.6 cm  -> 114 cm hip: 86.3 cm  -> 86.2 cm thighs: 55 cm  -> 56 cm calves: 36.2 cm  -> 36.6 cm neck: 38 cm  -> 37.5 cm

To be honest I can’t really use this data. like all of that seems to be perfectly compatible within measuring uncertainties. Maybe in the course of the whole 12 weeks one can see a significant difference. But at the moment, naaah. And maybe adding measurements while flexing makes it more accurate too. We’ll see.

@shapeyoursmile @less-flower @time2shapeup @iceaperfectionist @longlegslongdistance @setyoursmileonfire @luchtgitaar

[stereksummerexchange]

Fixer-Upper

Clotpolesonly - A bit of a throwback fic! I tried to put in stuff you mentioned enjoying, so fingers crossed it hits the spot :)

by @troubleiwant 

Explicit - no warnings

Post-S2 divergence with no Alpha Pack and nobody dead, just rebuilding the Hale House and with a little bit of pining and maybe some kissing! Also, minor Lydia/Stiles and Erica/Stiles friendships

Stiles scrubs a hand through his spiky-short hair. It needs a trim, but fuck it. Summer means he doesn’t have to worry about shit like that. He’s beyond glad to be done with the year, not least because he was getting sick of the wary looks cast his way on account of the damage Gerard’s beating had left on his face. The split lip is long healed by now, but the bruise across his cheekbone is still a tender reminder, reflected in the bathroom mirror and in the gentle tone his dad takes with him at breakfast.

It’s not so bad, though, Stiles thinks sternly at himself. So he got knocked around, so Boyd and Erica were tortured, so Jackson almost died. Nobody’s actually got killed, except for Matt, who deserved it, and…. and what is his life that that’s supposed to be a reassurance? No, Stiles corrects himself. Things are not great in ye olde Beacon HIlls. Not great at all. They’re supposed to be enjoying a carefree break like the kids they are, but instead there’s so much bad blood lingering around town that you could drown in it.

Even Scott, usually so optimistic about everything, has been knocked down a few pegs what with the breakup with Allison in the wake of her realizing how shitty her hunter family really was. He’s taking singledom a little better than Stiles though he might, honestly, but that means he’s alternating between calm assurance that he and Allison will get back together in the end, and weirdly obsessive focus on a tattoo he wants. Stiles is glad he has goals besides winning her back, but he isn’t at all excited about the specifics. Needles, man. Ugh. He’s not sure what kind of emotional pain a dude needs to be in to think that’s a good idea.

The Hale pack seems equally adrift after the events of the school year. Derek isn’t talking to Scott, on account of the whole “using you as a key element of a plan that I kind of forgot to tell you existed whoops” and new beta Jackson would try the patience of a saint, which Derek certainly is not. On top of that, Erica is handling the trauma of her kidnapping the same way she’d dealt with her frustrations about being bullied when she was first turned - with sex.

She’s flirty with Stiles, who does his best to ignore it, and with Isaac, who doesn’t quite understand that it’s only teasing. Apparently she even kissed Derek at training one day, according Boyd. Fuck if that isn’t a surreal (and, okay, kind of hot) thought. Wost, she keeps hitting on Jackson just to rile Lydia, who takes it just about as well as you’d expect. Isaac, hung up on Erica and already feeling pushed aside with Jackson’s entrance into the pack, takes it worse than that.

Add in all the normal hormonal disagreements between a bunch of teenagers trying to live together in an old abandoned house, and the Hale pack is basically a powderkeg.

All the same, the Hale house is where Stiles is heading now, tromping through the forest because the Jeep is in the shop yet again. He tries to spend a good amount of time here, half to keep them from tearing themselves apart and half because Scott is going to need all the allies he can get. If the awfulness with Gerard showed them anything, it’s that supernatural folks need to stick together. Scott is certainly not in a place to appeal to Derek’s good graces, for the time being, so Stiles’ efforts will have to do.

At least the task almost takes his mind off of Lydia. She and Jackson have been some version of “together” for years, sure, but Jackson’s always been such an ass it was easy for Stiles to tell himself their relationship was unhealthy and he needed to save Lydia from it (and then claim her for his deserving self, obviously). Now, that fantasy doesn’t quite fly. Like, epic healing transformations and a possible resurrection because of her declaration of love? Yeah, all that pretty much put him out of the “one true love” running. It’s strangely painful to realize that Lydia’s relationship is not and maybe never was an obstacle to overcome on his quest to win her heart. In the meantime, Jackson isn’t making things any easier by actively, visibly trying to be better. Stiles can’t even hate the guy properly.

Then again, maybe Jackson trying is mostly because Derek would rip his throat out if he wasn’t. Derek, Stiles thinks, could convince anyone to behave through some combo of those fangs and those cheekbones. Or eyes. Or his perfectly symmetrical scruff. Theres alot going on with his face that could be used for positive reinforcement, basically. Beacon Hills has way too many hot people, but Derek’s up there with Lydia in terms of blinding perfection…. and Stiles has just about the same shot with both of them, which is zero.

Scott has sympathy for Stiles’ perpetual loner-hood, but it seems focused on the sexual aspect. His best friend actually had his lady love before he lost her. “Had” in every sense of the word. He talks about their love life in generalities out of respect, but the mere idea of sex gets him all starry eyed. Which, okay, Stiles would be totally down to cash that v-card and join the adult club already, but that isn’t why he wanted Lydia. He’s not exactly sure why he did want her, really. Maybe it had been primarily about, like, getting something right. Winning a prize, proving he was worthwhile.

Whatever it was, he thinks sourly, it isn’t happening now.

“Hey,” says a voice right at his ear.

Stiles yelps and flails, and Erica shoots him an odd look as she comes up in front of him up on the path.

“Didn’t you hear me catching up?” she asks.

“No! Fuck!” Stiles presses a hand to his chest, willing his heart to calm down. “We are not all supernatural. Did Lydia tell you I was coming?”

Erica gives him a sultry smile. “I’m a wolf, Batman. I could smell you.”

“Great, yeah, that’s not creepy at all,” Stiles mutters

“Oh, let it go already,” she snips, suddenly dropping the sex-kitten act for a much more natural, sisterly irritation. “Look, Derek is being insane, it’s just train train train over here. I’m dying. We’re all dying. Also, Jackson is ignoring me, and Lydia is being a total bitch. Even more than Isaac, which is saying something.”

“Totally unrelated to how you you keep riling him up with innuendo and then looking at him like he’s grown a third head when he tries to flirt back?”

She pouts, but doesn’t deny it. “You need to fix things.”

Stiles snorts. “What can I fix?”

“I don’t know, less training would be a great start. Derek likes you. Get him to calm down.”

“Derek does not like me,” Stiles corrects as they come up to the old house. It’s partially renovated, or at least there are tarps over the worst of the holes. They literally live like animals, hand to God. Where are their parents? he wonders, not for the first time.

Derek wrenches the door open as Stiles and Erica step onto the porch. He’s already scowling because, like Erica, he must have smelled Stiles from a mile away. What an uncomfortable thought. What does he smell like, anyways? Stiles wonders. Would it be weird to ask Scott?

“What’s he doing here?” Derek barks, pointing at Stiles. “It’s time for the pack’s training, you know that. He’s human, he can’t fight.”

Stiles shoots a significant look at Erica. “Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, but I have no intention of intruding. I’m here to hang out with Lydia while you wolves do your whole Battle Royale thing.”

“Fine,” Derek seethes after a moment of weighing silence. “Boyd! Jackson! Training!” He yells as he brushes by Stiles to head to the yard. The point of contact on Stiles’ shoulder seems to buzz. He looks back and finds that Derek’s refocused on him, gazing steadily with those light colored eyes. Hazel? Green? Stiles’ heartbeat ticks up, and not only in fear. “Keep out of my things,” the Alpha growls.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Stiles quips. He lets himself into the house as Boyd and Jackson tromp out, looking as if they had at least three puppies that Derek has just run over with his car.

Stiles finds Lydia is in the living room. She’s the cleanest thing there by a wide enough stretch that she looks out of place reclining on the newest couch, feet crossed at the ankle and an Elle magazine in her hands.

“Hi, Stiles,” she says without looking up.

“Yo,” he answers. “So, what’s crawled up Derek’s ass today?”

Lydia shrugs, and sets her magazine down with a sigh. “Same thing as always. Hunter stuff, Scott not trusting him stuff, being used like a pawn for the upteenth time. But his obsessive training schedule is cutting into Jackson and my Notebook time. Plus he needs to take a firmer hand with Erica,” she adds darkly. “Somebody needs to tell her that her tits aren’t the best solution to wanting attention.”

Stiles doesn’t point out that Lydia might be both the worst and best bearer of that little piece of advice. “Why do people keep asking me to help?” he grouches instead. “I don’t know what makes Derek tick. What am I supposed to do about fixing his issues?”

“I think we need to get Allison and Derek together.”

“What? No, fuck! That’s an awful idea!” Stiles sputters. Scott would kill him, for starters, and the idea of Derek in a relationship is… its weird is all.

“Not like that!” Lydia snaps. “I just mean we need them to be friendly. Allison should apologize for the misunderstanding about her mother, but Derek needs to learn that not all hunters are monsters. He knows I’m best friends with her, and it’s making him treat me like a probationary member of this pack. I don’t like it. Plus, once Allison and Derek make up, you know Scott will follow their lead and come make nice, too. One happy pack against whatever thing comes for us next.”

“That’s… actually kind of a good plan,” Stiles admits.

“I know,” Lydia tosses out. “So, I’ll work on Allison. You get Derek to agree to a meeting.”

“Why does everyone think I have some special power over Derek!” Stiles demands. “He doesn’t even like me!”

“Don’t make me explain everything,” Lydia huffs with a roll of her eyes.

**

Okay, so, Stiles might be in a little bit of “doth protest too much” denial about Derek liking him. There’s some mutual texting (who knew Derek actually understood modern technology!) and Stiles gets away with jokes at Derek’s expense that nobody else would even try to voice. They actually do, in their way, get along. Or so Stiles thinks on his good days.

Then again, the last thing Stiles wants to do is overstate the situation. He’s still trying to get over Lydia, God damn it, and an impossible crush on the not-so-friendly neighborhood Alpha is honestly the last thing he needs. Derek probably puts up with Stiles because they’re both misanthropes who expect the worst in people, and because Stiles is interested in his knowledge and expertise while none of the other teens seem to have time for anything but interpersonal drama and like, lacrosse. The reasons Stiles puts up with Derek include those things… but also how Derek dips his chin when he smiles, and his sense of humor.

Whatever, fine, he just needs to remember that Derek doesn’t feel the same way.

Still, Lydia’s right that it’s only a matter of time before something else comes for their fractured pack, and Stiles has a responsibility to get Derek on board with the “Allison and by extension Scott are ok people who can be trusted” idea. For that, he needs to spend time with Derek, make himself useful. Not really a forte of his, unfortunately, he thinks with a wince.

Enter the Hale House Renovation Project. Derek clearly doesn’t need any help drilling his pack with fighting technique, or with pack lore. Home improvement, however? He’s quite obviously a novice, while weekend warrioring is right up Stiles’s alley. Growing up with just him and his busy dad in the house it had often fallen to him to take care of stuff, so he’s surprisingly handy. He knows how to find a stud and do some basic wiring, anyways. For the rest, well, he researches the hell out of it. Nobody’s ever accused him of doing things half-heartedly.

Or, well, maybe with schoolwork. Or lacrosse. But not, Stiles thinks with a very small pang, things that he actually cares about. Things like Derek, apparently.

So, the next time he’s hanging around with Lyda after a training session and Derek snarls at his latest project going awry, Stiles is able to pop up and, oh so casually, explain that he really needs a staple-gun if he expects to get that insulation to stay put between the studs.

Derek says, “thank you,” in a distinctly icy tone, and then ignores Stiles’ advice. Of course he does. Stiles has no idea why he’s surprised; what in his past experience would make him think Derek had any idea how to accept help?

Not to be deterred, he starts to just buy the tools and supplies that will be needed and leaves the stuff on surfaces where it’s easy to find, just sitting innocently by and waiting to be useful. Even Derek’s pride can only hold out so long he figures.

And lo and behold, one day the supplies that had been left aside start to go missing… just as parts of the house miraculously start improving. After a week of that, Derek offhandedly asks the room at large about what kind of switchplates should be used for the light switches downstairs, and Stiles is the one who answers. Derek just grunts and nods, like the answer came to him from on high. But still, after that, Stiles is tacitly accepted as the home improvement guru.

It starts to be almost a routine, their little home improvement powwows. After training, the baby betas all run off to do whatever the fuck it is they do, leaving and just Stiles and Derek to putter around the house. The training starts to get shorter as Derek’s attention turns to the frankly massive amount of work to be done; Erica mouths “I owe you one” at Stiles that Thursday, and he sticks out his tongue.

It’s a serious project. The bones of the house are there, but not much else in some rooms. They need insulation, drywall, wiring, paint… everything. It’s daunting, and Stiles considers once or twice just asking Derek if it wouldn’t be easier to start over fresh on a different chunk of land, or maybe to just buy a place downtown. But he always stops himself. Clearly rebuilding is important to Derek, or he wouldn’t be trying to damn hard.

Derek’s werewolf strength is a boon with the more physical tasks, like hanging the drywall, so the improvements go quickly over the next couple months. Stiles jokes around as they work, not sure how to bring up Allison and the hunters no matter how many times Lydia prods him about his progress. He hasn’t forgotten his real purpose helping Derek out, he just… kind of wishes he could. It’s unexpectedly fun to just hang out with Derek one on one.

Derek teases him about his terrible taste in junk food, but buys the stuff anyways. He spends a full afternoon bitching that the pack doesn’t need a TV, but caves in the end and brings home the largest one that Stiles had picked out - half as a joke. He goes with Stiles’ suggestions on fucking curtain colors. Well, shit. Stiles really can’t deny that he’s replaced one stupid impossible crush with another one.

Still, it’s not the end of the world, he tells himself morosely. Lydia is a great friend now, right? So maybe in eight years or so can expect that with Derek, too. Maybe some day his soft laugh when Stiles amuses him won’t send his heart pounding, maybe he’ll learn to be unaffected by his intense way of focusing on a problem, the bright crinkled-eyed smile reserved for when he’s truly happy. Sure. A likely story.

Finally, the house is done. While the project of getting Derek to accept Allison’s apology (of course Lydia got her side of things done) isn’t really making progress, Stiles thinks that his own side quest has done some good. Derek is calmer now, with his home base properly restored, which means less training and happier puppies. It also means that Derek has the patience to tell Erica to leave Isaac alone, and to actually praise the kid enough he stops looking like he’d knife Jackson to get some attention. Erica and Boyd of all people are the ones who start to date; the one person she never hit on was apparently the one person she actually gets blushy and flustered with. Things are actually good, Stiles thinks on particularly nice afternoon. Not just “nobody is actively bleeding” good, but honestly relaxed and happy.

Erica and Boyd are out on a date, Jackson and Lydia are upstairs decorating his bedroom to her tastes. Isaac is playing videogames on the huge TV in the den, and Stiles and Derek are in the kitchen making lunch, Derek listening in to Jackson and Lydia’s arguments and relaying the juicy bits to Stiles. Bits like “Erica agrees with me,” for example, a phrase he’d never imagine Lydia of two weeks ago voicing.

“Well, well, seems like your pack’s all finally getting along,” Stiles says to Derek, teasing. And then he can’t help himself. “Seriously, you’re a really good Alpha.”

Derek gives him a wince of a smile, ducking his chin. “Don’t know if I am. Certainly wasn’t last year.”

“Hey,” Stiles says, not willing to let the tentative moment of trust pass unmarked. He reaches out to tip Derek’s face up and look him in the eye. “You were doing your best.”

“Thank you,” Derek says, honest and warm. For a moment afterwards they just look at each other, sitting so close on the couch that Stiles can feel Derek’s body heat. It feels like a moment ripe with potential, but Stiles isn’t sure, can’t let himself think it… until, yes, Derek leans in, eyes dropping shut, and kisses him.

Stiles kisses back, heart thundering in his ears. It’s sweet and almost chaste, perfect. Derek scoops Stiles up and sits him on the kitchen counter for a better angle, runs his hands through Stiles’ hair and then nuzzles their noses together with a cute little smile.

The moment is perfection, which of course means Stiles has to ruin it. “So uh, wow! Are we like, boyfriends, then?” he blurts.

Derek gives him his crinkle-eyed smile, and tries to sound irritated when he says, “Yes, Stiles, we’re like, boyfriends.” He doesn’t sound irritated, though. He sounds impossibly fond.

“That means you trust me, right?” Stiles asks, looking down and picking at Derek’s tee-shirt nervously.

“I do,” Derek says with such a calm surety that Stiles looks up and meets his eyes again. Derek looks back, even and open.

“You should meet with Allison,” Stiles says gently. “She gets that she fucked up, okay? Lydia’s told you that she wants to say sorry, and you… you deserve to hear that. So, just give her a shot. Alright?”

Derek’s face has gone tense at Stiles suggestion, but he doesn’t shoot it down right away, which Stiles is willing to consider a victory. “I’ll listen,” he says finally. “If she’s really going to apologize for what happened with Boyd and Erica, and if you think it’s a good idea, then… okay. I’ll do it.”

Stiles takes Derek’s face in both palms and kisses him soundly. It feels like the start of something good in Beacon Hills.

**

(+ small coda with Allison and ace!Derek to come this weekend!)

[susielindau]

Welcome new blog followers! I hope you’ll sit back, relax, and read how a surprising discovery was ironic in six twisted ways.

Last week, while sipping coffee and checking my Twitter notifications, I noticed WordPress had tweeted my blog post, 18 Best Blog Tips: New Ways to Promote, Increase Traffic and More! It had been Discovered! The first thing out of my mouth, (second, after the coffee) was, “How ironic is that!” In more than one way. I’m cracking up as I write this.

https://twitter.com/WPDiscover/status/905823199664975873

I’ll get to the ironies, but first I want to thank WordPress editor, Ben Huberman for Discovering me! It has been such an honor. I may have gotten his attention through leaving this post in a Community Pool comment explaining one of the following ironies:

Irony #1.

One of my 18 Best Blog Tips is to try not to spend too much time on blog posts.

That post took hours and hours which turned into days.

Irony #2.

I wrote it for WordPress bloggers.

None of my followers saw it in the Reader. Which brings me to…

Irony #3.

18 Best Blog Tips also dove into mistakes I have made through six years of blogging. Here’s another one to add to the list.

I had upgraded my site to Business back in March, which allows me to use Google Analytics. That has been super interesting. I can check demographics and see which cities and countries are fans. Last week, London was my super fan city. Santa Monica (my beloved surfing spot), was the worst city in the world for viewing my blog. The US was the best country, but Israel was the worst. I have some work to do.

Anyway, because of the upgrade, my blog doesn’t show up in Reader Search anymore, which is a bummer. The fabulous Happiness Engineers are working on that issue.

Mistakes were made.

Recently, I noticed I could start using plugins. My daughter, Courtney works in web analytics. She suggested I install Yoast to point out what I need to do for SEO. I attended a WordPress Meetup and was told installing Yoast would be easy and I could uninstall it if I didn’t like it.

When I arrived home, I shook while I pressed the Install button. Instead of getting the notification that it had worked, it said I wasn’t up to date with the basic WordPress Jetpack program. I had to call a Happiness Engineer, who rescued me and installed it. Whew!

The next day, when my scheduled story, A Day in London with Charles Dickens posted, it was to the sound of crickets. Of course, it was another one of those posts that took tons of time. It didn’t end up in the Reader for my followers. Bummer!! I contacted the Happiness Engineers and found out it was because I wrote and scheduled it before I installed the plugin. Apparently, the structure of the site changes after installing a plugin on a Business site.

For days, no one followed my blog. I asked my daughter to check her phone and the floating Follow button had disappeared. I had been warned but several other bloggers who use Yoast continued to have the happy little green floating Follow. Not me. Dang!

That was the deal breaker. New followers are more important to me than views from SEO. Some day, I’ll have books to roll out to them. I started blogging to build community.

Once again, Happiness Engineers to the rescue! Several of these angelic and patient computer geniuses jumped in to help over the next few days. My Chuck Dickens post returned to the Reader without likes but with all of its comments in tact. Whew!

Irony #4.

I made the same mistake TWICE!

After working on 18 Best Blog Tips for several days, I scheduled it for the following week. It was written while I used Yoast. When it posted after uninstalling the plugin, it didn’t end up in the Reader, again. GAH!

Cue the sound of crickets.

Luckily, some of my followers click from their email. Fellow blogger, Words from Anneli helped me solve that.

I had written it for WordPress bloggers. Most would never see it. It was my six-year Blogoversary post!

Sharing it on social media made me feel better. When my friends reblogged it, their post appeared in search. That was a relief.

Then I remembered Ben Huberman’s Community Pool. He hosts this event through the Daily Post on Mondays. The next one is September 18th. Bloggers share posts, ask questions, or jump in and help others in the comments. I shared 18 Best Blog Tips and explained how it was written for them after six years of blogging but how it wasn’t seen in the Reader because of my Yoast fiasco.

Irony #5.

Which brings me to coffee splatters on my computer screen. After all the nervous perspiration and lots of tears, it got Discovered. WOW!

Irony #6.

The last time I was Freshly Pressed (the antiquated term for Discover), I was heading to the Pikes Peak Writers Conference for the weekend. The word got out that An Open Letter to My Boobs (an irreverent letter to my fake boobs after double boobectomies), had gone somewhat viral. Writers introduced me as The Boob Lady.

This time, I was on my way to the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, Colorado Gold Conference. What were the chances? I became the Blog Lady. (Not as popular as boobs, by the way.)

So, good for me. Whoopie ding dong day.

How does this article help you?

Upgrading to a Business site with the ability to install plugins is perfect for a blogger who knows their way around the back end of websites or is willing to learn. You’re still a part of the WordPress community and have the interactive black bar at the top of your site. When I have books to sell, I may try plugins again. Like I said, the Happiness Engineers are super talented and are one click away. (It always amazes me how fast they are!) They hope to fix the Reader Search and make plugins easier and more compatible for Business sites and community bloggers like me.

I would highly recommend following the Daily Post. They have daily prompts and share helpful information for WordPress bloggers. Leave a link, once in a while, in the comments of Community Pool and be sure to help others. You might get noticed!

There’s an About option on the top right corner of the Discover page. This is where the editors describe what Discover is all about. Scroll down and you’ll see a form. You can fill it out to nominate other bloggers for Discover. I discovered that yesterday!

Thank you again, Ben, the Happiness Engineers, and my followers. It’s time to clean my computer screen and get back to writing books.

Have you ever won an award? Have you ever made any mistakes here on WordPress? Are you willing to experiment or are stories like mine terrifying? Ha!

Discovered with 6 Ironic Twists! #bloggingtips #WordPress Welcome new blog followers! I hope you'll sit back, relax, and read how a surprising discovery was ironic in six twisted ways.

[justonehappyvictory]

hi!!! i love all your au sosoo stories and i have this au prompt... it's a little cliché tho. instead of being invested in cosmetology, hajin is involved in music. and then so is a part of a band probably with baek ah and eun and idk i just love the idea of two lovers who loves music as much as they love each other and i pictured hajin and so in it 😭🙈

Ahh, first prompt request ever! I love it! I hope I am/was able to deliver, anon.

EDIT: Posted on AO3

The door to their apartment flung open, making Wang So and Baek Ah jump in surprise. The cymbal So had been polishing fell out of his hand and clanged on the floor. Baek Ah had been tuning his guitar and the slamming door caused him to tighten one string too tightly and it snapped smartly against his hand. An angry welt formed on his hand and he grabbed the nearest object and launched it at the disturbance, So’s younger brother, Wang Eun. Eun dodged the projectile easily enough and eagerly waved a flyer at their faces.

“Guys, check it out,” he said gleefully. “There’s going to be a talent competition! The winner gets a contract deal!”

So picked up his dropped cymbal and resumed his polishing. “Are you sure it’s legit?” he drawled. “Last time you said contract deal, you lost all of our money.”

“Yeah, Eun,” Baek Ah said. “I’m all for a contract, but we just started eating real food. I don’t want to go back to living off ramen and gimbap again.”

Eun sat down in front of them, pleading. “No, it’s real. My friend is a secretary at the company. She told me about it. I promise it’s not a scam this time.”

So slipped the paper out of his hand, still skeptical. Baek Ah set down his guitar and walked over, reading the flyer over his shoulder. “Eun, this isn’t going to work,” So sighed. “This says we have to have to an original song. We only do covers. Unless you magically gained the ability to write songs, we have no chance.”

Eun wiggled his body emphatically at them and whined. “You guys don’t even want to try? Baek Ah’s good at the poetry thing, he could write a song.”

Baek Ah held his hands up. “Uh, writing a song is more than just putting words down on paper. I know absolutely nothing about creating a melody from scratch. So, yea, I think we’re going to have to sit this one out.”

Eun plunked on to the couch and crossed his arms, an angry pout forming on his face. “You guys always spoil my fun.”

So tousled his hair. “Look, we don’t like to be the bad guys, Eun, but we have to be realistic sometimes.”

“Seon Deok! Seon Deok,” Soo yelled, running full speed across the campus. She clutched to the paper in her hand like it was a map that would lead her to the world’s greatest treasure. “Seon Deok!” she yelled again as she saw her friend in their usual spot by the cafeteria. Seon Deok looked alarmed at her friend, noting all the attention she was garnering. Soo was all sweat, red face, and gasping breaths when she reached her. She tried to talk, but it took several minutes for her to breath to catch up to her. “Look… look at this flyer. It’s my shot!”

“Your shot?” Seon Deok said dubiously. She took the flyer from her clenched hand and flattened it out on the table, reading over the contents. “This is like your fifth shot this year. Remember when you lost two thousand dollars? Your mom almost murdered you. Also, this says you have to bring your own instruments and your mom made you sell your guitar. And your keyboard. And your bass in order to pay her back. You have nothing except your beautiful voice and I don’t know if that’s going to cut it in a competition.”

Soo pouted, resting her head on the table and lamenting the loss of her instruments. She had spent her days humming all the new melodies in her head into a tape recorder. If only she hadn’t been scammed in her eagerness to become famous, then she’d be on her way to a real contract. She new she was destined for musical greatness, she just needed to convince the rest of the world.

“Eun!” Soo heard Seon Deok yell, a blush forming on her neck. Soo laughed, she never could keep her wits about her when her crush was around. “Over here!”

The tall and lean boy with pink hair slouched over to them, he looked completely put out, like someone had snuffed out the fire inside him. “Hey Seon Deok, Hae Soo, what are you guys up to?” he said forlornly. He kicked at a rock underneath the table.

“Oh, nothing really,” Seon Deok said, fluttering her eyelashes at him and scooting closer to him, but her efforts went unnoticed. “Unnie is sad because she can’t enter this talent competition, which is such a shame because her songs are always amazing.”

Eun’s ears perked up at the sound of “talent competition” and “songs.” “Wait, what do you mean?”

Soo slid the flyer towards him. “You have to have an original song but I had to sell all of my instruments. So, even if I could write a song, I have no instrument to play it on.”

He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, leaning across the table so that his face was inches from Soo’s. Seon Deok huffed jealously next to him. “Soo, you can write songs? You know how to write songs?” Eun asked, his usual enthusiasm returning to his demeanor.

Soo leaned away. “Um, yea…”

Eun jumped up and whooped. “Soo, I have a band! You can write a song with us and we can be your instruments!”

Soo’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious? Are you sure? Will your bandmates be okay with this? Oh, my god, you will not regret this!” Eun and Soo grabbed hands, jumping and dancing together in their excitement.

For the second time that week, Eun slammed into the apartment, this time with Soo trailing behind him. Her excitement had begun to give way to nervousness when she realized Eun was taking her back to an apartment of men. Even with Seon Deok’s glowing review of why Eun is such a wonderful person, she had heard stories about his older brother and why he wasn’t such a wonderful person. One time, she had heard that he ripped an entire door off its hinges with just his hands because someone sneezed on him. She shuddered at what he would do if Eun was bringing her there unannounced. He didn’t seem the type of person to like surprises.

“Hyung? Baek Ah?” Eun called out. A second later, Soo saw a man come out of the bathroom in just a towel. He was using another, smaller towel to dry his hair, but her eyes were focused on his still damp and gleaming chest. He looked lithe, but toned. Her eyes trailed the defining lines of his abdomen, but he still had soft spots that looked like they would be really nice to grab onto and squeeze. She noticed that he had several scars strewn across his body, but they just gave him wild, rugged look she wanted to dig into.

“What is it this time, Eun?” she heard him say, still raking her eyes over him.

“Uh, hyung, you should get dressed,” Eun said, struggling to push a wonderstruck Soo behind him.

And that was when So noticed the small woman next to his brother and her trailing eyes. He took his extra towel and hid his exposed body from her. “Do you want to die,” he screeched.

His shout woke Soo up from her reverie and she felt her whole body turn red from being caught. She smacked her hand over her eyes, knowing she was too late. “Um, I-I can just come back later,” she squeaked. She quickly turned and ran head first into the door frame, causing her to fall and cry out in pain. “Ahh, I’m fine. I’m okay. Just a small bump.”

As Eun picked up Soo from the floor, he gave So an apologetic smile, who only glared at him as he stomped off into his room. He poked at the bruise forming on Soo’s head. “You can look now, he went to his room. Sorry about that.”

“I mean, you could have told me there was a naked man in your apartment before I entered,” she scolded.

Eun rolled his eyes at her. “It’s not like I keep a schedule of who’s going to be naked. That would be weird and perverted.”

She sighed, walking over to their couch and sitting down. “Who was that, anyway?”

“Oh, that’s my older brother, So.”

She gawked at him. “You mean… that was… he’s the one that ripped off the door?”

“I ripped off a door?” So asked, coming back into the room, this time fully clothed in black ripped jeans and a black slouchy shirt. Soo averted her eyes, the flush returning to her cheeks. “That’s a new one. Did you also know that I killed a man because he took my milk? Or maybe you know about the time I ran over my teacher for failing me? Or maybe you heard, and this one’s my favorite, that I ate a live duck?”

Soo pressed her lips together. With every word he said, he leaned closer to her and he was only centimeters from her. His scent invaded her nose, lemony and floral. She swallowed thickly, but didn’t break the eye contact between them. His gaze was hard, but she couldn’t help fall a little bit into them. “I-I may have heard that you sold a kidney on the black market to buy a motorcycle.”

“Hyung, knock it off,” Eun said, pushing him away from Soo. “Why do you always have to scare everyone away? She’s here to help us.”

So leaned back in his chair, his gaze still penetrating and sullen. “Help us with what?”

“With the talent competition. She knows how to write songs!” Eun was bouncing again. So looked over at him, slightly shaking his head and Eun stopped. “Come on, hyung. This is a golden opportunity. She can write the song. We can learn the song. And together we will race to the top of the charts. We’ll be unbeatable.”

“Eun,” So said, almost consoling. “I thought we discussed this already.”

“I’ve heard some of her stuff, though. It’s good. Come on, at least give her a chance before you completely dismiss her. It’s not her fault you came out almost completely naked.”

She noticed his face redden and a small giggle escaped her lips. He shot a glare at her and she immediately schooled her face to hide her emotion. “Alright,” he said. “Let me hear something and, if it’s good, then you can work with our other bandmate, Baek Ah, on something and we’ll,” he sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “we’ll enter the competition.”

Soo pulled out her phone and some headphones from her bag. Carefully, she placed the headphones over So’s ears and pressed play. She watched his expression. It ranged from annoyed to intrigued. “You wrote this?” So asked and she nodded. “All by yourself with no help?” She nodded again. He pulled the headphones off and tossed them back to her. He stood, looking like he was going to regret the next words he said. “We practice every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday.”

She smiled brightly at him and So, for one second, felt his heart flutter in his chest before he walked away.

There was a knock on the door and So thought it was weird that Baek Ah would knock when he lived here, whom he had expected back from the store sooner. “Maybe his hands are full,” he said to himself.

When he opened the door, it wasn’t Baek Ah, though. It was Hae Soo and he was taken aback. “Uh, Baek Ah’s not here right now.”

She smiled and his breath caught in his throat. He hated the way she smiled, how it brightened her eyes and rounded her cheeks and scrunched her nose just a tiny bit at the bridge. Mostly he hated the way his heart always skipped a beat and made him breath a little bit faster and filled him with a foreign warmth. “That’s okay,” she said. “I can wait. He said he wanted to talk about a chord in the song. Oh, are you cooking? Something smells amazing.”

He almost found himself saying that it was her that smelled amazing because she always did, crisp like apples and sweet like lilacs. As she walked underneath his arm holding the door open, he caught a whiff of her perfume and took a moment to savor it before pulling himself together. “Yea, I sent Baek Ah to the store to pick up some things we needed. Um, he didn’t mention you were stopping by.”

She was in the kitchen, a spoon in her mouth as she tasted his food. Her eyes widened in delight. “Wow, you made this? This tastes as good as it smells. Does Baek Ah need to tell you when I come by? He told me I can come over whenever I want.”

“You don’t feel nervous coming into an apartment filled with men?” So felt a stab of jealousy over Baek Ah and the way she said his name so casually. “Do you like him or something?”

She sucked on the spoon, considering the question. “I mean, what girl wouldn’t like handsome men paying attention to her and Baek Ah is extremely handsome. He’s got soft hair and kind eyes and perfectly calloused fingers from years of playing guitar. He’s a dream come true for many girls.”

So bit the inside of his cheek, felt the blood pool there. “Right. Yea, I’ve heard he’s got some groupies. Does this mean you’re one of them now?”

“Did you really just call me a groupie?” she asked, clearly offended by the insinuation.

He was saved from answering when Baek Ah came in. “Hey, I got that stuff you wanted. Oh, Hae Soo! Great, you came! You want to have some lunch with us before we get started.”

“That would be great, but I don’t want you thinking I’m going to sleep with you just because you’ve given me some food,” she said, her annoyed gaze never leaving So’s. He could feel the heat rising in his neck.

“That’s a weird thing to say. If you slept with me, I hope it would be because you like me rather than because I give you food.”

So felt sick to his stomach. “You’re not actually considering sleeping with her, are you?!”

Baek Ah looked between the two people in front of them, both glaring at each other determinedly. “He can sleep with me if he wants to,” Soo shouted. She grabbed Baek Ah by the hand and yanked him towards his room. “Come on, Baek Ah,” she seemed to yell just for So. “Let’s go work up an appetite.”

Baek Ah saw So kick at the sofa before Soo slammed his door shut. She huffed and paced around the room. “I’m not actually going to sleep with you,” she said.

“I know,” he laughed at her. “Because I know you’re crazy about him. I see the way you look at him and how you lean closer to him, trying to smell him. Which I don’t blame you there, he does smell good. You’re always way more interested in what he’s doing instead of focusing on writing a song. And, when he talks, you do this lip biting thing. You cant fool me. I’m very observant.”

“Too observant,” she said. “Sorry, for using you like that.”

“It’s fine. I like being used by pretty girls every once in awhile. Also, if you didn’t want me to know, you shouldn’t have lent me your notebook that you littered with doodles of him and little songs about him and little hearts with his name in them.” He picked up the aforementioned item and tossed it to her. She blushed furiously. “Since we’re in here, let’s talk song lyrics.”

“Uh, what made you start writing songs?” So ventured. Practice had just ended and he was completely flustered. Eun and Baek Ah had just left them to clean up and now the two of them were all alone. He wanted to know if she was still angry at him. She seemed closer to Baek Ah after he basically called her a groupie and he wasn’t sure if the two of them had slept together or if they were dating. He noted every casual touch she seemed to give him on the shoulder, on the arms, and once on his knee, which seemed too intimate for his liking. He had asked Baek Ah on several occasions if they were a couple but he would just laugh and say, “A gentlemen never betrays a woman’s secrets.” And So had no idea what that was even supposed to mean. He couldn’t help but feel jealous and angry and hopeless. Soo with her silky black hair and plump, pink lips. Soo with the voice of an angel and button nose. Soo with such delicate soft skin and a laugh that bore fairies into being. He was going insane with wanting to get to know her better but also trying not to seem too obvious or too eager.

“Because I have a song in my heart that’s always bursting to be free,” she said simply, like it was most obvious answer in the world. “Why do you like playing the drums?”

“It’s good anger management,” he shrugged. “I can play other instruments, though.”

“Really? What else can you play?”

“The piano, guitar, the violin, and, now I know you’ll be impressed with this one, the xylophone.”

She laughed and he laughed with her. “Those all seem like such … delicate instruments compared to you.”

“Are you saying I’m not delicate?” He leaned in a bit and he saw her eyes flicker to his lips.

“Uh, I’m sure in… some areas… you could be.” Unconsciously, Soo licked her lips and, before he could stop himself, he found himself kissing them. Her lips were just as soft as he imagined them to be and he could taste the vanilla in her lip balm. Her breath was warm and sweet. He heard her whisper his name and it just spurred him to deepen the kiss, pulling her closer to him and plunging his fingers into her silky strands. Her hands grazed up his chest and settled on his neck. He shivered when her fingers curled in his hair. He wished they had been doing this sooner. Kissing her felt like he was coming home.

She pulled away from him. Her lips were puffed and red and he tried to catch her lips again but she stepped away and avoided his gaze. “Oh, uh, I have to go,” she said. She quickly gathered her things and left, leaving So confused and hurt.

“He kissed you?” Seon Deok shrieked. “And you just left? What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been dreaming about kissing him for weeks now.”

Soo pounded her head on the table before taking another shot of soju. “I know. I’m an idiot. I panicked. I didn’t think he was actually going to kiss me. I didn’t even know he liked me enough to kiss me!”

“So, what was it like?” Seon Deok poked her friend, eager for details.

“Well, it was… perfect. Slow and warm and … delicate,” she sighed and Seon Deok sighed with her. “And then he tugged me to him and his chest really is as solid as it looks but in a good way and the kiss was firm and thrilling and… god, it was so hot. Seon Deok, what is wrong with me?” She poured herself another glass of soju before knocking it back. “How am I supposed to fix this?”

“Go back and ravage him? He’ll probably forget all about it. Nothing like hot make-up sex,” she giggled and Soo smacked her lightly on the arm.

“I’m serious. I’m looking for serious solutions only.”

“I was serious, but, um, why don’t you write him a song or something? It’s kind of your thing.”

“Hmm… yea, I guess that makes sense.”  

Soo was avoiding him. She hadn’t been to any of their practices since he kissed her and she ran off. Why had she ran off? She seemed just as into the kiss as he did. He pressed his face into the pillow and screamed into it. It didn’t make any sense to him. Why had she run off?! He punched the pillow, punched the bed, punched the headboard. Was she really dating Baek Ah? Would she kiss him back if she was dating Baek Ah? Did he just betray his best friend? Everything would’ve been fine and solved and wonderful if she had just. Not. Run. Away! He flipped on his bed and started kicking the air. This was driving him up the wall.

There was a small knock on his door and Baek Ah poked his head through. “Hey, is there something going on with you? Because you’ve been terrible at practice. You’re off beat, or you’re too loud or you’re too soft or, sometimes, not even paying attention. It’s not like you.”

So pouted at his friend. “I think I did something really bad. And you’re going to hate me.”

“It would take quite a lot for me to hate you.” So pulled the pillow over his face and mumbled his troubles into it. Baek Ah walked over and pulled the pillow off his friend’s face. “So, just tell me. Can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s broken.”

“I kissed your girlfriend. I didn’t mean to, but she’s just so beautiful and always smells so nice and she licked her lips and I just couldn’t help myself and I kissed her.”

“Okay, let’s backtrack. I don’t have a girlfriend. Unless you count that poster of Seohyun from Girls’ Generation. Have you been kissing my poster?”

So sat up and squished Baek Ah’s face between his hands. “You’re not dating Hae Soo?”

“Hae Soo?” he asked, pushing So’s hands off his face. “Why would I date her? She likes you.” He gasped loudly. “YOU KISSED HAE SOO?! Oh, tell me everything? Did she kiss you? Man, I was wondering how long she was going to hold it in. She never shuts up about you.”

“She likes me? She said that? You heard the words ‘I like Wang So’ come out of her mouth?”

Baek Ah furrowed his eyebrows together. “Wait a second, start from the beginning.”

So fell sideways on his bed, his head dangling over the edge. “It was last week. It was after you and Eun left us to clean up. We were talking about instruments and I just… I kissed her and it was amazing and then she just left. And I haven’t heard anything from her since then. I thought she was avoiding me because you two were dating.”

“Okay, we will talk about how easily you would kiss a girl you think is my girlfriend at another point in time, my friend, but we’ve never been a thing. She’s cute, but she’s like a sister. I did suspect you had a thing for her, though, when I saw you kicking the couch after she dragged me into my room saying she was going to sleep with me. She likes you, though, so I’m surprised she would just leave and she didn’t even mention it to me.”

“You’ve been talking to her?” So asked eagerly, pulling himself up. “She hasn’t been coming to practice though.”

“Oh, that’s because she has exams and she’s been studying. She’s still been working on the music, though. She gave me the finished sheet music this morning. She said as long as we nail the melody, she’ll come through with the lyrics and she’ll meet up with us at the competition.”

“Right. The competition, which is another couple weeks. Do you think you could ask her why she left? Or like give her my number? Or should I write a letter? Do you think she would like flowers? Should I write a letter and send flowers?”

Baek Ah slapped his hand over So’s face. “Just stop talking. I’ll talk to her.” So just nodded.

Eun was off in the distance, on the phone with Seon Deok asking about Soo’s whereabouts. She was late and they were supposed to be up any minute now. Eun got off the phone and rushed over. “Seon Deok said traffic is really bad, but Hae Soo is definitely on her way.”

So rubbed at his eyes. Baek Ah smacked his face. “Okay, Eun you know the lyrics right?” Baek Ah asked. “If, for some reason, she doesn’t show and we go on, you’re going to have to sing.”

“Uh, I don’t know. Keyboard, I’m good at. Singing I’m good at. Playing the keyboard and singing at the same time in front of all those people, maybe not so much.”

“Face it,” sighed So, idly twirling his drumstick to hide his rising panic. “We’re screwed.”

“Well, aren’t you just a beacon of optimism,” said a voice behind him. All three men turned to see Soo and they gaped at her. So stood quickly, tripping over his feet and stumbling before her beauty. She looked stunning in a simple red dress that lightly hugged her small frame before flaring out the knees. Her usual straight hair fell down her back in waves and So wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through the length of it. The most beautiful part of her, though, was the way her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Eun pulled her into a hug before So could get to her. “It just matters that you are here,” Eun said close to her ear. “Come on, we’re next.” He took her hand and dragged her towards the stage. She gave So a fleeting but encouraging smile. She had hated how she had left things, tried texting him and calling him a thousand times, but nothing seemed right. She would make it right tonight, though. She had to.

A stagehand came up to them. “Ready in five,” he said and then hurried off to prepare the next act. They took their places behind the curtain. So tried to get Soo’s attention, but she was too busy talking to Baek Ah, going over last minutes notes. I guess I’ll just have to wait until after the show, he thought to himself. He cursed Eun for taking away his small window of opportunity.

“Alright, all you music lovers,” they heard the emcee call over the speakers. “Give it up for The Wolf-Dogs.” The crowd roared as the curtains rolled up.

“Wow,” Hae Soo said into the mic. “What a great crowd, tonight. Thank you all for letting us play our song for you. I know you’re pumped and ready to dance, but we’re going to slow it down for you a little bit. This song was written as an apology of sorts for someone I like quite a bit, maybe more than a bit. This song is called ‘Through the Night’. We hope you like it.”

The light dimmed over them as the first notes chimed over the crowd, a soft note escaping her lips, lulling the crowd into a hush. As she serenaded the audience, So felt the rising tide of euphoria sweep through him and felt the ebb of his anxiety and confusion over her radio silence flee with every romantic lilt and intonation that rippled from her. He watched as the crowd one by one by one brought out their phones, waving the bright lights in the air, creating a sea of fireflies. He clung to her words, the ones that told him she loved him, that told him she missed him, and said he was a blessing. He wanted it all with her, every touch, every smile, every conversation and she was telling him, telling everyone, that she wanted it too. He didn’t care anymore if they won this competition because somehow, inconceivably, he had won her love and that was the greatest prize of all. As the last silvery notes resonated through the night, the crowd’s howling and thunderous applause returned to the venue. The four of them took a bow as the curtains lowered. Stagehands rushed them off the stage so they could set up for the next competitor.

“Oh, man, Hae Soo, you were great!” Eun applauded. “I’ve never heard anyone sing like that before.”

Once again, Eun brought her in for a hug, completely cutting off his older brother from her. This time, without any time constraints, So pulled his brother off of Soo. “I need to talk to you,” So said to her and she let him take her hand and followed him to a quieter place they could talk.

“Before you say anything,” Soo said when they stopped. “I just want to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left like that. I could give you a thousand different excuses, but I’m just going to say that I like you. I like you a lot. I liked kissing you and I love that you can be wild and free playing the drums but that you’re precise and nimble enough to play the violin and I love how you smell like flowers but you taste like cinnamon and I like that you don’t care about what other people say about you. I just like every bit of you and I’m all in. That is, if you still like me.”

So felt his laughter bubble in his chest and burst from his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” she said, pouting.

“No, I’m laughing because this is all so unreal. You just sang a song for me. You wrote a song about me, about us, and sang it in front of all those people and now you’re standing in front of me listing reasons why you like me and I just can’t contain myself. Because I like you, too. I like you so much. I loved kissing you and I love that you smell like apples and taste like vanilla. I like how you put your whole heart and soul into every word and note you write. I like that you go after what you want no matter the consequences that lay before you. And I’m all in, too, every bit of me.”

It was Soo that initiated the kiss this time and So found he liked that a whole lot better, the way she jumped up into his height and crashed her lips into his. She dropped down, a playful smile on her lips and her eyes shining with glee. It wasn’t enough for him, he wanted more of her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer, and his other hand reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Don’t run away from me this time,” he said and as a giggle spilled from her lips, he drank it in. He stole another kiss and his own heart created a song just for her, bursting to be sung.  

[tmae3114]

10 Days of Hero Shipping

Day 8 7

Whoops, I’m a tad late with this one! Believe it or not, I actually had this entirely written and just... forgot to post it.

So here it is now! Some fluff stuff for Day 7 - Feelgood

(today’s isn’t fully written so beach episode will be tomorrow :p)

Ro & Tomix

“Have you been aboveground at any point since you started working on this?”

Tomix glances up from his notes, blinking a few times at the warrior leaning in the doorway of the house he has temporarily claimed while he’s in Ravenloss. He can really only see half of her, one arm holding onto the doorframe and one leg out to make sure she doesn’t fall. Whatever the other half of her body is doing, he’s not sure, but with how she’s standing on her toes and wobbling slightly, he’s guessing the other leg isn’t on the ground.

“...no,” he answers, when he processes the question.

Her eyebrows slant and the visible part of her nose wrinkles in a way that he’s learned by this point indicates disapproval.

“That’s not healthy,” she says.

She pivots on her toes, twisting her entire body and swinging her other leg around – proving that it definitely wasn’t on the ground before – so that she ends up fully in the room. She doesn’t stop her movement there, instead hooking her ankles against each other and dropping into a crosslegged sitting position, the momentum from her spin having carried her forwards enough that she’s more-or-less right in front of him now.

Which really makes the movement sound much more elegant and graceful than it was, as she almost fell over three times while doing it. (It’s rather clear that it’s not a manoeuvre she’s particularly practiced in doing out of armour, given two of those occasions looked almost like overbalancing or over anticipating her own size)

He turns the page in his notebook and continues writing, paying no attention to her comment.

“It’s really not healthy,” she says, elbows pressed into the crooks of her knees and hands resting in her lap as she leans forwards. “Going without sunlight for a long time is bad for you. It makes you get sick. Sometimes you need to let yourself take a break, Tomix,”

He lays his pen down, letting it roll across the page to rest in the dip in the middle of the book, and looks up to meet her eyes. They’re wide and open and sincere.

In silent reply, he lifts both hands towards his face. He doesn’t break eye contact for even a moment as he traces deep crescents underneath both his eyes with his index fingers.

Ro splutters and draws back. The higher angle combined with the flickering candlelight makes the dark bags under her eyes stand out even more starkly against the pale of her skin.

“My poor life choices dinnae negate yours,” she says, sounding more mock offended than he thought it was possible to be.

“Is that so?” he replies, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smile despite himself. “Because I was under the impression you were talking about health, and, last I was aware, sleep is rather important for that,”

“You dinnae get to criticise my sleep schedule when you dinnae even have one,” she says, without a trace of heat in her voice.

“I was under the impression that you don’t either,”

That seems to be the point that she concedes defeat to, shutting her eyes and dipping her head slightly as she shakes it, shoulders shaking slightly with quiet laughter.

“Okay,” she says, the outer corners of her eyes crinkling upwards in indication of a smile. “Okay, that’s fair,”

For a couple of moments, they drift into companionable silence. There’s the soft sound of fabric shifting as Ro plucks at the end of her sleeve with a finger, soon joined by the gentle scratch of pen on paper as Tomix briefly returns to his work.

“I actually came down here to do something,” Ro says, breaking the silence. Tomix almost wants to ask if said something was nagging him about his health, but there’s something in the softness of his tone that makes teasing feel a bit out of place.

He sets his pen down again, a gentle tap against the paper. He looks up, ready to continue talking.

And then he stops.

For a moment, what he’s seeing doesn’t register.

And then his brain catches up with his eyes and he realises that there’s a pool of dark purple fabric around her neck where there usually isn’t and-

-and for the first time, he can see the entirety of his friend’s face.

She smiles, a small, thin, wavering thing that nonetheless shows her teeth.

“Surprise,” she says, voice taut and strained and only barely audible, in a way that makes his heart clench because he knows it has everything to do with fear.

She’s told him the stories before, of course. The reason she started to wear the mask, the reasons she still wears it. She’s told him what’s behind it as well, though seeing it - the clearest sign he’s ever had that his friend isn’t human, a fact all too easy to forget - is something else entirely, because he knows what seeing it means. Knows what she’s doing, knows what she’s trusting him with.

There are many potential ways to respond to this but only one that sits at the forefront of his mind and heart and feels like it is right.

He knows there’s no other response to give.

He smiles back in kind, similarly small but only out of nature, and leans forwards to clasp her hand.

“Thank you,” he says.

He doesn’t get the chance to finish fully, to elaborate on what that thank you is for (thank you for trusting me, mostly, but not entirely) because that’s the point that she all but surges forward to turn the hand holding into a hug.

It’s also the point that she starts crying, though the tears turn into laughter halfway through.

“Thank you,” she says, voice muffled by the fact that her face is buried in his shoulder. A part of him wants to tell her there’s nothing to thank him for. He doesn’t though. Instead, he simply stays quiet, and tightens the hug the slightest amount.

Eventually, he feels her start to shift away, and they both let the hug end.

She smiles again, this time bright and wide, showing even more of her teeth but this time unafraid to do so. Her eyes are bright too, with the left over glimmers of tears and the happiness that comes in the absence of fear both. Though there remains the slightest shadow hiding in the back, her fear is dissipated.

And nothing proves this quite so much as the fact that she leans over to lightly shove him in the shoulder and, through the grin now on her face and the almost dry tear tracks and the quiet of an emotional moment passing, says

“You really do need to take a break, though,”

It startles a small laugh out of him in kind and he mirrors her gesture, lightly shoving her shoulder.

“I will take a break,” he says “when you take a nap,”

“Deal,” she says, quick and fast, smile quirking up into a little bit of a smirk. “I’m holding you to that now. C’mon, the sun is still up up there,”

And she stands, pulling him to his feet via the hand that neither of them have stopped holding yet.

(It’s the long way out of Ravenloss, of course, given that the portal doesn’t work in the day. It doesn’t feel particularly long, though, not filled with talking and laughter and camaraderie. Before any time at all feels like it has passed, she’s pulling him up out of the dark caverns into fresh air and sunlight.

There’s a quiet part of Falconreach, just enough out of the way to feel calm and peaceful, near the gentle sounds of running water and in the path of the sun. That’s where she pulls him to, talking all the while.

She leans her head against his shoulder when they sit down and doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Is there a reason you’re halfway to sleeping on me?” he asks, after she shifts position a couple more times.

She blinks up at him, looking almost half asleep already. Her mask is back up but he can tell that she’s smiling.

“Dinnae trust you not to count the walk here as a break and go back to working while I’m sleeping,” she says, without preamble.

He laughs and admits defeat because that’s fair enough.)

[ladystylestores]

20 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Started a Blog • The Blonde Abroad

I’ve been in the blogging world for quite some time now—I started TBA in 2012—and since then I’ve learned A TON. From SEO to graphic design to creating pillars of content, a lot goes in to starting a successful blog.

I often get questions about how I got started with blogging, and the truth is it wasn’t a simple upward trajectory. It’s been a non-stop learning process and I’ve garnered a number of skills along the way.

No matter what niche you’re focusing on, be it travel, fashion, food, or something else, many of the blogging fundamentals and principles are the same. So, I’m sharing my insight of almost ten years of blogging.

Here are 20 things I wish I knew before I started a blog!

Walk Before you Run

First things first: There’s no quick way to become a successful blogger.

Even if you have 1,000,000 Instagram followers, that doesn’t automatically mean you’ll make a ton of money off of a blog because people engage with different platforms differently. If you focus on entertaining people on YouTube, it might be really difficult to shift your audience to readable content.

If you’re just starting from scratch, you can kind of mold your audience.

Because I started as a blogger, I sort of conditioned my audience to expect for me to have a lot to say. So it’s normal for me to share Instagram posts with long captions and my audience reacts to those. I convert really high on click-throughs for people to read more because I have a massive online resource as a website.

If you’re doing this as a business venture, you’ll definitely need another job/side hustle. Period.

Expect to put in 1-3 years of unpaid work when you’re beginning to blog. Blogging won’t pay you anything for the foreseeable future. Get into it because you have a passion for the topic and truly love it.

This is definitely not a get rich quick kind of thing.

For me, the community I’ve created is one of the number one motivators to keep doing what I do. When readers share how I’ve been able to help them travel or inspire them to pursue their dreams, it propels me forward even when the industry shifts of things get tough.

There is sincere love and passion for what I do and if that wasn’t there, my blog likely would have fizzled out a long time ago.

If the goal is to become Instafamous, blogging might not be the thing for you. It doesn’t happen overnight. However, blogging belongs to you and as platforms change and shift—you own your own content and it will always be there. And when you start ranking on Google, it’s the most solid platform in terms of consistency.

Are your titles engaging and optimized with SEO keywords?

Learn SEO Keywords + Best Practices from the Start

A majority of my traffic and clicks to my blog come from strategically placing SEO keywords and links within posts. I wish I had known this from the start—it would’ve helped organic growth faster and I wouldn’t have to revamp so many posts.

They would be easier for folks to find via search engines from the start!

No idea where to begin? I talk extensively about SEO keywords in this post: How to Keep Your Blog Afloat During COVID-19.

Image Quality

This is a huge one! When I first started out, the majority of my photos were from my cell phone or digital camera. Over the years, I taught myself how to use my camera in manual mode and actually take the photos I want…instead of hoping I get lucky with lighting and focus.

Having quality images on your site will set you apart and show professionalism, too.

Optimize Images

On top of taking top-notch photos, you’ll want to optimize your images so that your site can load faster. When I started blogging, I never resized my images. I pretty much uploaded them straight from my camera. This is a huge FAIL.

Huge images slow down your site. This impacts the reader’s experience, and honestly—if a site is loading too slowly, a lot of the time I’ll lose interest in the page and move on. It’s SO important to upload correctly sized images.

To find an optimized image size for your blog post: Open a blog post, right-click, and press Inspect—the ‘display’ size of that image is what’s shown (ex. 300x500px). For retina display screens, you’ll want to upload an image 2x that (ex. 600px wide) and under 300kb.

Here’s a screengrab of my photo Export settings in Lightroom for reference:

Image Aesthetic + Editing

Whether you’re just starting out with photography or have been shooting for years, presets make a HUGE difference both in overall aesthetic and style, and cut down on editing time.

Let me reiterate, when I first started out, I pretty much uploaded my photos straight from my camera. Maybe I would bump the exposure or contrast a little bit, but I didn’t truly know how to edit my photos with a consistent look or style.

TBA Lightroom Presets

These easy-to-use presets will instantly add a beautiful aesthetic to all of your images!

Shop Now

Branding

Who are you? What is your brand? Who is your audience?

I’ve talked a bit about branding in tips for shooting stunning flat lays and tips for brand-new bloggers wanting to step up their game. While you don’t have to have a professionally designed site, keeping consistent branding is key.

Use the same logo, photo, and username across platforms for brand awareness.

Affiliate Links

You can earn money from your site, but be strategic about it. I like to include things I personally use and love, rather than plugging every single thing that I can link to.

While some affiliate programs require a certain level of viewership, you can earn some income through things like RewardStyle, ShopStyle, and other affiliate programs.

Brand Deals and Partnerships

This ties into affiliate links—know yourself, know your worth, and know your audience. While it’s exciting to be approached by brands and to want to jump at opportunities for bringing in a bit of income, make sure it’s something that you actually believe in and you’re not just chasing dollars.

This boils down to trust and credibility. Sometimes brand partnerships are simply not worth it. Make sure the partnership is right for you and your audience and don’t be afraid to negotiate the terms of the deal.

Approach Everything with Professionalism

Whether you’re working with a big brand, small brand, or replying to comments—your audience matters. I approach everything I do with this in mind.

Backlinking

Contributing articles for other sites with a better DA (Domain Authority) than yours can be great to improve your site’s ranking and get your blog out there! Reach out to other bloggers and sites to see if you can contribute a post or two for backlinking and credit to your site.

Create a Blog Calendar + Pillars of Content

While I usually focus mainly on travel, I also talk about lifestyle, environmentally-conscious topics, blogging as a business, photography, and food.

Figure out what those main things you want to focus on and from there create a blog calendar.

I’d recommend using Google Sheets or checking out some of the handy WordPress planning plug-ins—I personally like CoSchedule.

Be careful not to overload yourself. It’s vital to be completely realistic, especially if you are working full-time. Give yourself time to write quality pieces. If you have time to write more than you expect, that’s great. But if you overbook your time, you will feel constantly behind and stressed out.

Finding an online project manager that works for you is a great tool to keep things organized and on track!

Social Media Strategy

I like using CoSchedule and Tailwind to take out some of the time involved in scheduling socials. Create a schedule that works for you and be consistent. When it comes to planning out Instagram content, Iconosquare and Planoly are wonderful platforms.

Stretch Your Content

For any particular shoot or destination, I can get a number of posts out of them—for both the blog and Instagram. Utilize your content as best as you can and be strategic about what and when you share, and splice things in here and there.

While I do usually travel quite a bit, I am not on the road every single day of the year. It may seem like it as I take tons of photos wherever I go and use them for multiple articles on different subjects or tips about a certain place.

Don’t Put All Your Eggs in One Basket

As in don’t focus solely on one platform. Sure, it’s great to grow your platforms but one day Instagram or TikTok could just disappear (RIP Vine). Understand that things evolve and for me, having a newsletter is one of the key ways to ensure that I can still be in contact with my readers should a platform go down or dissolve.

If you haven’t ventured into the newsletter world before—now might be a good time to start focusing on your email list and sending some love to your own community.

Want to see what my newsletter looks like? Sign up for it here!

Time Block

Sometimes you’re feeling really inspired and can crank out several articles, other times it’s difficult to put words on the page.

Dedicating time to accomplishing certain tasks works well for me, and don’t be afraid to get ahead of your blogging calendar, especially for days when you need to give yourself a little grace.

I swear by time blocking. I like to break up an 8-hour workday into blocks of time (30, 60, 90—whatever is necessary for a given task). Once I assign a project to a block, I stick to it.

This helps so much so I get it done in an efficient manner and I don’t get distracted by things like scrolling through my phone…and whoops—there goes thirty minutes.

Don’t Compare Too Much

This is actually one of the most crucial lessons to learn. I know it’s hard but don’t compare yourself or your blog to others.

Find your niche and focus on that. While it’s good to stay in the know and have a pulse on what others are doing—don’t beat yourself up for not being “enough.” Be confident and what you do and the content you create!

Everyone is at a different stage in their journey.

It Can Be Difficult  to  Turn Off

Even after years of blogging, it can be difficult to “turn off” my blogging cap and clock out for the day. I think this is a thing that happens for many entrepreneurs when you work for yourself and you’re trying to build something and grow it.

You can send an email quickly or check your phone for updates, but it’s important to allow yourself time to decompress and mentally check out of work. Try to establish when that time is and stick to it.

This is really important to me for balancing home life and making sure I am present with my family and my partner.

Don’t Be Afraid to Reach Out

Whether this is for possible collaborations with brands or to other bloggers. My advice here though is have it be mutually beneficial — consider a partnership from their side and what would they get from it?

If you’re just wanting to pick someone’s brain and garner what they’ve spent years learning, offer something in exchange, perhaps buy them a coffee or write several articles for them.

Haters Gonna Hate

Honestly, this is just part of the Internet world and something you will have to rise above. As long as you’re shining and doing what you love, there will likely be folks out there that want to tear you down…just because.

Don’t let it get the best of you!

Learn How to Use Google Analytics

Use this to your advantage to see what’s doing well, what’s attracting readers, and how you can grow your content!

I delve into Google Analytics in my Blogging Master Class—so if you want to learn more, make sure to sign up for it!

Delegate and Hire a Team

When you first start out, you can mostly run your blog for free. For the first three years, I did everything myself but if you want to grow, one of the best things you can do is put money back into your business to scale it.

At some point in order to grow your business and blog—you’ll have to invest back into it.

What does this mean? Hiring professionals to take on tasks (things like an SEO audit, graphic design, video editing, or a blog manager).

I can learn a lot of different things thanks to the University of YouTube and platforms like Skillshare, but sometimes it’s better to hire professionals for the job so I don’t end up “wasting” my time. While I don’t believe learning new skills is a waste, my time and creativity can be more valuable for other aspects of my site and business.

Overall

So there you have it, folks! Those are the major things I wish I knew before I got into blogging. That said, I do think learning some of these things along the way really did help. It taught me what worked, what didn’t and highlighted my perseverance.

Blogging is not an overnight thing and many of these lessons translate to other fields, too! What things have you learned or are you learning from blogging? Let me know in the comments below!

Want More?

Keep learning, growing, and building your brand

Are you looking for more info on how to build an email list? Want to learn how to create a media kit? Learn about brand collaborations, Search Engine Optimization, Google Analytics, and more!

If you are really taking your blog to the next level, you are going to love my Blogging Master Class!

Sign up for the waiting list now to guarantee your spot!

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[recentanimenews]

Catarina Is Changing up the Relationship Chart in My Next Life as a Villainess Episode 2 Recap

  Welcome back to another recap post of the wonderful My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! series. Let's refresh on what happened before the new episode airs tomorrow! In the last episode, Catarina discovered who she really was and the world she now has to survive in the place of the villainess of her favorite otome game, "Fortune Lover."

Doom flags are everywhere and Catarina has to do her best to avoid all of them so she can live a longer life this time around! Unfortunately for her, she's already engaged to Geordo and Keith arrived right on schedule, which follows the game's story. But it's no biggie. All she has to do is make sure things don't go sour with either relationship to avoid getting killed or exiled. Easy peasy, right? ... Right? Hmm ...

**SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 2 AHEAD**

    It's been several months since Catarina's memories from her past life came back to her, and ... she's still doing that garden thing to increase her Earth magic, huh? I'm 99 percent sure that method won't pan out for you, girl! Tragically, some of the veggies aren't growing. Geordo and Keith offer some assistance ...

  Oh my, it seems like they're both quite attached to Catarina! What does Catarina think of all this and how could their rivalry affect her as it intensifies?

    That's not it at all, Catarina! Open your EYES! How oblivious can you be?

    Being oblivious isn't the only glaring problem Catarina has. Her table manners are a total mess! She's been invited to a tea party ... how do you expect that she'll behave? I think she's just gonna gobble up all the food, after all, free food is best food, right?! Not to worry, dear reader, for Keith will be sent alongside Catarina so she doesn't misbehave. It's not a problem anymore! But wait, isn't she the older sister? What example are you setting here, Catarina?

    First impressions are important, right? Catarina managed to properly introduce herself to the folks responsible for the party. And without Keith's help, at that! We're so proud of you, Catarina! So far, so good. We also get a first glimpse of someone closer to Catarina's age.

    Mary is pretty shy compared to her sisters, who are way more outgoing. If you ask me, Mary's the cutest of them all!

    Catarina is the belle of the ball at the party. People just won't leave her alone! Between wanting to introduce themselves, trying to befriend her, and talking endlessly ... Catarina is quickly reaching her limit.

    I get it. Totally relatable!

    What's this? Everyone's too busy chatting it up and no one's eating that wonderful spread of sweets on the table. A true CRIME! I don't blame Catarina at all. I too would be hitting up all those delicious cakes on display! Hm, but wait, is this how a dignified daughter of the Claes family should act?

    Before Catarina is able to stow away the sweets to take home and gobble up later, Keith appears right on cue to remind her of her standing. She is the older sister, right? I'm beginning to wonder.

    The galaxy brain solution to this predicament? EAT ALL THE SWEETS NOW. If only Catarina's mother was here to see all of this unfold right before her very eyes!

  Of course, this comes back to bite Catarina (get it? bite?), because her stomach ain't having none of that! She makes a strategic retreat to "powder her nose." Brilliant!

    Phew, Catarina managed to save her dignity. (In more ways than one!) On her way back from ... uh ... freshening up, she encounters a gorgeous garden she hadn't seen before. Look at those beautiful flowers! The amazing fountain, too! And at the center of that garden is ...

    ... The shy and cute Mary! Why isn't she also gabbing it up like her sisters with all the other guests? Turns out events like parties with a big crowd aren't exactly her kind of thing. I'm sure many of us totally get where Mary is coming from here. 

  Of course, our Catarina thinks it's because of her villainous and evil face that Mary won't show up to the party. (That's not it at all!) She turns the conversation to the elegant garden and how skilled the gardener is to grow such beautiful flowers, only to discover it's Mary herself who tends to the garden. Amazing! 

    Catarina?! Down, girl! But she has to get the gardening deets from Mary, so she can level up her own gardening skills. She must do anything and everything to avoid those doom flags! Unfortunately for her, Mary doesn't have experience with growing veggies—but that's not enough to stop Catarina! If Mary could see the fields herself, maybe she can impart some of her gardening wisdom and tackle this problem together. Teamwork! (What's in it for Mary, though?!)

    Turns out Catarina wasn't giving her vegetable garden the right amount of nutrients to grow. They replant the veggies elsewhere to see how they do with this new insight. Thanks to Mary's help, the garden is looking healthier. Take that, doom flags!

    Catarina leaves Mary with the one line that changes her life forever, making Mary completely affectionate toward Catarina. Turns out what Mary gained was a new friend! According to Keith, Mary hasn't been having a good home life, since Mary's mom was Marquess Hunt's second wife, which the family wasn't exactly too pleased with. This caused Mary's older sisters to treat her like she's a thorn in their side (heh, thorn), verbally abusing her for most of her life. Geez, no wonder she didn't feel like hanging at the party! But thanks to Catarina, Mary now feels like she's not alone anymore. Yeah, friendship!!

  Keith also mentions that her engagement to Prince Alan is set to happen soon.

  Wait. Her engagement to Alan??

    ALERT! ALERT! A NEW DOOM FLAG HAS ARRIVED!

  Is it wise to befriend the girl who's going to marry the guy who is one of the conquerable routes in the game? Isn't that like saying "yes, I would like to have this doom flag, please"?! 

  In Alan's route, he has a huge inferiority complex toward Geordo. But when the heroine of the game appears, he softens and his relationship with his brother improves. A lovely story! Catarina barely appears in this story, so it should be okay, right? The rival for this route is Mary. So, does that mean she could either get exiled or die?

    Nope, only Catarina. What kind of cruel joke is this?! Well, Mary is a nice girl, after all. And in the game, Catarina constantly bullies the heroine. There's gotta be a way to turn this around. Let's think more on the way Alan's route is supposed to go ... Hey, wait a minute!

    Isn't this EXACTLY what Catarina said to Mary? She said Alan's line first before he even had the chance to?! How will this affect the outcome? Will Mary even fall in love with Alan now? We'll have to wait and see how this pans out.

  Things seem to be going smoothly. Does it even matter if Alan was able to comment on Mary's gardening skills?

    Mary reveals that Catarina told her she's special for her green thumb. Of course, he couldn't dare say the same thing now, could he? This couldn't cause a problem for their future relationship, could it?

    Of course, it would. Alan waltzes into the manor, demands to see Catarina and tells her to stop SEDUCING his fiancee! Apparently most of the time when he invites Mary over, she declines because she's at Catarina's place. And when Mary accepts his invitations, all she talks about is Catarina! Wow, she's totally smitten by Catarina.

    Instead of calmly talking and working things out, Catarina tells Alan he's full of it. Oh, and he's boring and has zero appeal. Real mature, Catarina! Alan takes this as a challenge and dares Catarina to a duel of her choosing! But ... what's Catarina good at again?

    Oh right, climbing trees. How could I forget? Look at her go! It's like someone pressed the Turbo button on a controller. Alan can't possibly win. He's unable to regain his dignity. And so he constantly visits Catarina to challenge her endlessly in tree climbing—and always loses. He doesn't want to give up though. He'll win no matter what!

    Of course, this had to stop at some point. Alan comes by on a day when Geordo is also there and the situation gets really tense. To ease things, Catarina offers a different challenge: a piano duel! It's probably best that way since her mother is bound to find out about the tree climbing sooner or later.

    To everyone's amazement, Catarina can hold her own in piano playing, but Alan is on a whole other level. He's exceptionally gifted at it, having everyone who's listening swooning over his beautiful music. But Alan won't take the positive attention lightly. His inferiority complex comes out in full display when Geordo compliments him. He feels as if Geordo is secretly mocking him. 

    Catarina, being the great pal that she is, chases after Alan to talk things out. Everyone has something they're good at and something they're lousy in—it's part of being human! Even the seemingly perfect Geordo has a weakness of his own.

    Snakes! Now that Catarina knows Geordo can't handle snakes she has something she can use to her advantage when things get hairy. What precious knowledge!

    But that would only work as long as Geordo thought it was a real snake and not one made out of paper. Whoops! 

    This situation is too hilarious for Alan to continue to be upset. Look at that smile! I'm sure in her own way Catarina is helping Alan come to terms with his inferiority complex.

  It seems like another doom flag was avoided, but when will the next one pop up? We'll find out tomorrow when the next episode of My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! airs! See ya next time!

What's been your favorite part of the show so far? Isn't Catarina totally relatable? Let us know in the comments!

  Catch My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! every Saturday at 10:30am PST / 1:30pm EST on Crunchyroll!

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Nicole is a frequent wordsmith for Crunchyroll. Known for punching dudes in Yakuza games on her Twitch channel while professing her love for Majima. She also has a blog, Figuratively Speaking. Follow her on Twitter: @ellyberries

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