#and next week is going to be so much. in terms of the ridiculous workload i gave myself

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

sometimes i think about that one post about how you should have people who are absolutely delighted by your existence and like that's nice and all but what happens when they get bored of u

[writertitan]

Midnight Snacks

pairing: eren x reader 

words: 2058

themes: college au, lots of fluff, eren being a little embarrassing with his gas station order 

requested by anon

Finals week had both you and Eren on high alert and in high panic. Truth be told, you didn’t need to really worry that much; you had prepared yourself for this all semester and had really kept up with your workload. Mostly, you were just stressed about the finals themselves and how, well, final they were. And so close together. A gift and a curse. You’d be done before finals week was even over. 

What really had you in a panic was Eren. The boy, bless his heart, was not apt for cramming. He’d kept up with his work like you had, but you knew him like the back of your hand; he was prone to leaving the harder things until the last minute. 

You glanced at your phone to check the time as Eren flipped back and forth between a page in his biology textbook, grumbling to himself under his breath. It was almost 12:30 in the morning and both of you had been at it all night, cramming and rememorizing things just to be prepared, and Eren especially was deep in concentration. You smiled to yourself as you watched his brows furrow even more than they already were, a feat you thought impossible. Just as you set your phone down to continue your own last-minute preparations, Eren sat up straight with a growl and pushed his textbook off your bed with his knee. 

“I feel like my head’s about to explode,” he complained, flopping over onto your lap. His eyes found yours immediately and he pouted as he reached up to stroke your cheek, then turned his head to glare at your textbook, as if personally offended by it, and pushed it off your bed to join his own. 

“Eren,” you whined, about to push his head off your lap, but he stopped you by reaching both hands up to cup your face. 

“C’mon, let’s just take a small break. We’re probably gonna be at this for a few more hours,” he said, fingers lightly caressing your jaw to entice you into going with his plan. You pondered it, then thought about arguing back with him about needing to study, but then realized he was probably right. All of this endless cramming with no break was just going to end up in you not retaining any of it. 

“Just a small break,” you relented, giving him a warning stare. He sat up, much brighter now, and pulled you off your bed immediately. He stretched his legs out and then reached his arms up to the ceiling for a full body stretch, already in a better mood. 

“Let’s go buy some snacks,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in. “That’ll help with the brain juice.” 

You hated Eren’s term, brain juice, but you knew he had a point. You had to keep up your energy. 

“Okay, let’s go to the vending machines and pick something out,” you said, moving to put some shoes on. 

“There’s a convenience store just down the street, babe. Please can we go? Your dorm’s vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said, the pout back again. You rolled your eyes playfully but again relented, happy to just get out of your dorm room for a second. 

“Okay, fine. But you’re not supposed to be here, remember? It’s way past visiting hours. We have to be so sneaky,” you said, voice already lowering to a whisper. If you’re RA found out you’d been holing Eren up in your dorm well past 10pm, she was going to lose her mind. 

Eren made a show of zipping his lips and acting stealthy, which made you snort. You grabbed his hand after putting on shoes and jackets, and carefully slipped out to start your trek to the convenience store. 

You had to admit, it was a nice idea. And Eren was right, your vending machines didn’t hold a candle to all the other savory treats you really wanted. 

The night was a little breezy, but the impending summer weather kept the spring chill at bay. Eren had your hand engulfed in his, fingers laced as he swung your hands lightly, other hand messing with his loose bun. The night wrapped around him beautifully, streetlights casting glows that defined the most handsome parts of his face. 

He caught you staring after a minute of him being deep in thought, and you flashed him a mischievous grin which he returned.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, the lame phrase making you giggle. 

“Okay,” you said cheerily, which took him off guard. You pulled your hand from his and giggled again at his confusion, before moving to stand behind him, hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders and give a small tug to make him stop walking. He knew immediately what you were getting at and crouched down enough to let you hop on, catching you easily and gripping your thighs as you wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Your other hand reached into your pocket to pull out your phone and you wasted no time in pulling up the camera app, jutting your arm out so you could capture Eren’s face right next to yours, the two of you flashing cheesy and ridiculous smiles as you snapped the picture. The automatic flash activated due to the low lighting and Eren whined and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut as the flash went off. 

When you looked at the end result, you showed Eren with a pleased laugh. You looked fine, all smiles and bright eyes. Eren, on the other hand, had blinked a little too soon. His eyes were shut, eyebrows raised, a dopey grin on his face that matched yours. 

“Delete that,” he complained, letting go of one thigh to try to reach for your phone. You were too fast, however, and eased it back into your jacket pocket. “Babe, delete it!”

“Nope! That’s my new favorite picture of us.” 

“I’m not buying you any snacks once we get there.” 

A lie, completely. If anything, Eren would play the little devil on your shoulder and egg you on in just a few minutes, into making not-so-smart choices. Why choose between the chocolate and the gummies when you can have both? 

You moved to hop off once you were in front of the store, but Eren’s grip tightened on your thighs. You angled your head to give him a confused glance, which he ignored, but he turned his head to peck your lips. 

“We’ll be quick. You’ll be my hands,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his words, but hid your big smile into his shoulder. You knew he could feel the way your lips turned up over the thin fabric of his jacket and even thinner shirt. 

“Alright, what do you want?” you asked him, letting him lead you where you knew he’d go first: the Lunchables. 

“Ham and cheese and crackers, please,” he requested, but you already knew that and were grabbing at it with one hand. He kissed your wrist as a thank you and then asked, “Okay, what are we getting you? The usual?” 

“Yes, please,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck as he made his way over to your preferred snack of choice. And, after grabbing two drinks, your hands absolutely full, you made your way to the counter to pay. The clerk gave you a bored look, not at all interested in the sight in front of him, and rang up your items slowly and announced your total. 

A contest as always, you and Eren both reached for your wallets. He somehow managed to be quicker, mostly because you were trying your best not to lose your balance as you held onto him with one arm and fished around for money with the other, and you grumbled as he paid for both of you. 

You held onto the bag as you exited the convenience store, again trying to hop off, and again being secured in place by Eren’s tight grip. 

“Aren’t you getting tired?” you asked him, genuinely curious, but Eren nearly guffawed at the question. 

“Are you joking? I wouldn’t even consider this a warm-up, babe. Carrying Jean’s blacked-out ass home after a party, though... that’ll make me break a sweat. I don’t know how he’s so fucking heavy.” 

You giggled, vividly remembering one of those times, and you rested your head on Eren’s shoulder after letting a yawn slip out. 

“I wish we didn’t have to go back to studying after this,” you pouted, pressing a pouty kiss into Eren’s shoulder. “I hate finals.” 

“Let’s eat our snacks before we get back to it,” Eren compromised. “My brain still feels heavy with knowledge. I gotta let it soak it all up.” 

“Always saying the weirdest things,” you teased him, squealing at the pinch on your thigh. 

Sneaking up to your dorm room was as easy as sneaking out, and you pulled Eren for a quick kiss as soon as the door locked behind you. You tossed the bag onto your bed and then began fishing your snacks out once your shoes and jacket were off and you were both able to situate more comfortably on your bed. Eren held you in his lap as he leaned back against your wall and browsed through his phone, the two of you watching dumb compliations on YouTube while you snacked. It was nice to turn your brain off just for a while, to rest up and come back to studying rejuvenated. 

His hand would occasionally sneak up your neck and grab at your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as he pressed tender kisses to your temple. You shared your snacks and really took your time with finishing, letting yourselves soak in your study break. 

“Thanks for making me take a break,” you told him, leaning your head back against his chest. “I forget sometimes.” 

“I know you do,” Eren chuckled, squeezing you into a hug and pressing you into his chest even more. He noticed yet another suppressed yawn from you and hummed in acknowledgement, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. 

“I can’t go to sleep, I have to keep studying,” you said, beating him to it. 

“You’re studying for your final tomorrow and it’s not even until noon. You know a really important habit before taking a big test is to get enough sleep before it.” 

Damn it. You hated when he used logic against you. 

“Fine, but just a nap,” you grumbled, sitting up to grab at your trash and discard it in your bin. You set an alarm and gave Eren a tired smile. “I’m gonna drag you down with me, though. You need to sleep too.” 

Eren scoffed, his voice a little panicked when he spoke again. “No way. Unlike you, I have to cram. I’m nowhere near ready for my final tomorrow.” 

“Yours isn’t until the afternoon,” you pointed out, hitting him back with the logic he’d used on you. “Like you said, a good habit is to get plenty of sleep before a test.” 

Eren sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t going to argue with you. He looked just as tired as you and the two of you arranged yourselves in your cramped bed to doze off, if only for a little bit. 

His hands found your hair and he played with it softly as you both curled up into one another. 

“Love you,” he murmured, drowsy already, and you smiled to yourself, head on his chest with your hand tracing loving circles at his torso. 

“Love you too,” you answered, warming at the soft touch of his hand on your chin. He tilted your head up to steal a quick kiss to your lips, then to your nose. You closed your eyes and let yourself relax, about to really drift off when you felt Eren shift under you. 

Your ears picked up the quiet sounds of Eren taking your phone from your nightstand. You peeked an eye open, careful to stay quiet lest you arouse suspicion, and resisted the urge to let a huge grin overcome you as you watched him go to your camera roll, tap on the ridiculous picture you’d taken earlier, and send it to himself. 

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #28

Warning: I'm absolutely not sure I need one, but better safe than sorry. Mention of a slightly NSFW joke, blink and you'll miss it.

A/N: Julian Bennett belongs to the wonderful @slytherindisaster

Word Count: ~ 4.600

_______________________________________________

Chapter 28: No Heartache, No Distraction

“I forgot again, how do you harvest Dittany leaves?”

Skye scowled at her textbook as she flicked through the pages in search for an answer. Her frown deepened when she reached the end of the chapter without finding a satisfying conclusion and repeated the process for probably the fourth time by now. Her hair was tousled from the many times she had run her hands through it in frustration, little strands of the blue section sticking out from the braid pinned across her forehead.

She was looking as exhausted as Lizzie was feeling. It was almost the end of May and the term had slowly but surely entered its final stretch. With the O.W.L.s breathing down their necks, Lizzie and Skye had found themselves in the library more often than ever before.

Lizzie didn’t mind concentrating on studying for what felt like the first time this year; besides from it being more than necessary by now, it was an effective way to take her mind off the final match against Gryffindor that was scheduled for the next week.

Her insides were already churning with anxiety at the thought of what was at stake, but she wasn’t the only one on edge; the whole student body seemed tense, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in particular. Neither House had won the Cup in a few years and both were eager to end their streak of bad luck. Even Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, who were known to be great friends, were feeling the building tension, only exchanging a minimum of polite words during mealtime.

Over the years, Lizzie had found several ways of dealing with her pre-match anxiety, her favourite one being keeping her mind busy by spending time around her friends. This year, however, she didn’t have that many people left to hang out with.

Although a good few weeks had passed since the match against Slytherin and its eventful aftermaths, the atmosphere between Lizzie and her friends was still as tense as before.

Contrary to what she had thought, Charlie hadn’t wanted to speak with her when she had tried to apologise on the same evening of their fight. She had tried to catch him a second time the next day, only to be informed by Julian that Charlie had made it very clear that he had no desire whatsoever to talk to her anytime soon.

“I believe his exact words were ‘She can bugger off’ but you know how he is,” he had told her sympathetically, “give him some space and he will get over it eventually.”

But as of today, she was still waiting for any sign of readiness for peace from his part. Lizzie regretted her rash words and wanted nothing more than to apologise for them; but if Charlie was still too hurt to listen to her, she had to accept it, albeit begrudgingly.

Where Lizzie knew what she would tell Charlie if he only agreed to speak to her, it was exactly the other way round with Rowan.

When Lizzie had told her about the outcome of her decision, it had been clear to see that it was not what Rowan had expected. Although she had immediately tried to hide it, there was no denying the surprise flickering across her face.

Both of them had tried to make peace with one another and continue with their friendship as if nothing had happened. They had always been able to talk to each other openly, but now, neither girl knew how to approach the other.

Lizzie told herself time and time again that they only needed some time to heal before they could go back to normal, but there was this nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept getting louder and louder every time Lizzie felt more relieved than anything else when Rowan left her to herself. Maybe all the things that had gone wrong between them were too many; maybe, there was no going back for them.

Lizzie could tell she wasn’t the only one unhappy with the situation. Penny was always troubled when there was fighting within her immediate group of friends; she couldn’t stand the uncomfortable silence when they all met up in their dorm at night. Usually, they would all recount their days, laugh and joke and gossip about what had happened, with Penny being the happy centre of it all.

Nowadays, no one was speaking and if so only in hushed voices. Lizzie and Skye kept mostly to themselves, Tonks was out more often than not and Rowan was so concentrated on her textbooks she now carried with her all of the time, that Penny often sat alone on her bed, brushing out her braids with a sad expression on her pretty face.

The whole situation was draining Lizzie of all her energy. She was sleeping uneasily and was having trouble concentrating in class, much to the dismay of her teachers.

Not even Quidditch practise brought her much joy anymore. She tried her best to pull herself together and play well, but she knew her performance had taken a dive. Neither she nor Orion knew how to act around the other; when they were playing, it somehow worked after a fashion, but beside that, Lizzie couldn’t even look at him without feeling guilty and ashamed all over again.

The only one of her friends she found easy to be around these days was Skye. Although Skye’s fears had been confirmed when their team dynamics had gone south yet again, she had stuck with Lizzie without even questioning it; Lizzie had never been so grateful for Skye’s total disregard of anyone else’s opinions before.

Skye wasn’t Lizzie’s favourite study partner by a long shot, but she would have preferred her to Rowan any time these days; her constant complaining about the massive workload the teachers were piling upon them, didn’t help Lizzie’s lacking concentration, however.

Thankfully, the library was currently deserted, with them and Madam Pince being the only exception. The afternoon classes were still taking place and the fifth-years had gathered on the training grounds with Madam Hooch for flying lessons. Not considered mandatory for the members of the House teams, Lizzie and Skye had excused themselves from class to catch up on their increasing pile of homework.

They had been brooding on an essay for Professor Sprout about the different healing properties of Dittany for the past hour; Lizzie hated to admit it but her progress was bordering on pathetic. Her scroll was still more empty than not and try as she might, her concentration was constantly slipping.

She couldn’t help the thought that Orion would certainly know exactly how to answer all of the required questions; with a sigh, she dipped her quill into the inkwell she and Skye were sharing and started writing again.

Skye didn’t even look up from her textbook when she broke Lizzie out of her thoughts again only moments later.

“You’re doing it again, Jameson.” Her tone was mildly impatient while she flicked through the pages of her book.

“What?”

Raising her eyes for a second, Skye only nodded towards her parchment for an answer.

After a few words, Lizzie’s thoughts had started wandering again and so had the tip of her quill, drawing tiny swirls and circles on the edge of the scroll. Looking at the bits she had written so far, similar drawings could be found on the edge of her essay in regular intervals.

“Oh,” was the only thing she said before she stopped it. Even if she managed to complete her assignment, she would have to copy the whole thing before handing it in.

With a resounding smack, Skye closed her book and looked at her friend reproachfully. “We agreed on something. No heartache, no distraction; just focus.”

She gestured vaguely at Lizzie’s sorry excuse of an essay, “And that doesn’t look like focusing to me.”

“Come on, give me some credit for trying,” Lizzie pouted. “It’s just that I’m so distracted these days; especially doing Herbology,” she sighed wistfully, thinking about the countless hours of tutoring she had spent with Orion in the greenhouses. Lizzie knew she was acting like a ridiculous, lovesick girl but she couldn’t help it; she missed him like crazy.

Skye was slouching back in her chair as she shook her head at Lizzie’s whining, “I really hate that depressive state of yours. Where’s your fire gone, mate?”

“I can’t help it,” Lizzie flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder with an irritated motion. She felt a little annoyed at Skye calling her out, but more about the fact that she was right than anything else. “Everything is so awkward now, you’ve seen it yourself at practise. I can’t even look Orion in the face and half the time I don’t know if Everett wants to knock him off his broom or if his aim has gotten even worse than before.”

At the mention of their disliked teammate Skye rolled her eyes. “That bloody idiot.”

“Exactly,” Lizzie agreed. “And that’s not the only thing. Given that I called it quits on everything that could have been with Orion for her, you’d think Rowan would act a bit more warmly but no, not at all; you can literally see how glad she is every time we’re leaving her and Penny alone. And don’t even get me started on Charlie.” Her face darkened and she angrily threw her quill away out of frustration. “Did I forget anything?”

Skye had let her rant without interrupting; now, she tilted her head to the side and watched her for a moment. “You know, there is one other thing I’ve noticed.”

“What?”

Skye drew a deep breath, as if collecting herself. “I have come to a conclusion, but I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

“Out with it, Parkin,” Lizzie urged her on. Her brow had furrowed at Skye’s hemming and hawing; somehow, she didn’t like the sound of this.

When Skye reached out and covered Lizzie’s hand with a solemn expression, Lizzie felt the colour drain from her face. “After all these years of being friends, I can’t deny it any longer,” she squeezed Lizzie’s hand and dropped her eyes to the table, “I can’t believe I’m saying this…”

Lizzie’s eyes widened in shock; afraid of Skye’s next words, she held her breath in fearful anticipation when Skye suddenly raised her eyes again to meet hers, sparkling with suppressed laughter as a wide grin spread on her face.

“… but even if you’re all fuzzy in the head right now, your notes are way superior to mine; let me copy that, will you?”

Now fully laughing at Lizzie’s baffled face, she reached for the half-finished essay. Relief washed over Lizzie when she realised she’d fallen for Skye’s joke; her cheeks blushing bright red, she playfully swatted Skye’s hand away from her work.

“Do you think you’re funny or what, Parkin?”

Skye simply shrugged, her grin still plastered onto her face. “Actually, I do; you should’ve seen your face.” She pulled an exaggerated face mimicking Lizzie’s flabbergasted look from before, coaxing a laugh from her friend. “Sorry to disappoint you, Jameson, but you’re not my type; I prefer blondes.”

Lizzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but the smile was lingering on her face. She had been so miserable the past few weeks, smiling at Skye’s horrendous jokes felt almost foreign to her.

“On a more serious note,” Skye picked the conversation up again, “constantly butting heads with as many people as I do does have its perks, you know.”

“I wonder what those would be?” Lizzie remarked wryly.

But Skye wasn’t deterred from her point. “I know how to properly apologise; want to hear my advice?”

Lizzie considered Skye for a moment, trying to determine whether she was still joking or not; but Skye looked deadly serious at her offer. Rubbing her temples with her fingers, Lizzie nodded finally. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but go on.”

“Let’s make one thing clear first,” Skye declared and held up her index finger, “I’m not a fan of Weasley and I disapprove of fraternising with the enemy. However,” she added quickly as she saw Lizzie’s face darken, “I know he’s important to you, so I’ll let it pass.”

“Well, thanks a lot,” Lizzie mumbled, followed by another eyeroll.

“Want my help or not?” Skye grumbled and Lizzie shut her mouth again. “He’s mad and won’t talk to you, so you have to find a way to make him see you’re sorry. I’d say go and show him some sign of good will. Remember when we were fighting back in the days, when you were getting a bit too friendly with Rath?”

As if Lizzie could have forgotten that; it had been their first real fight and the worst one as well. “Of course I do; you organised tickets for a Catapults match afterwards, it was amazing.”

“Exactly; I knew you liked the Catapults – for whatever reason – and it worked like a charm.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows sceptically. “But you also apologised for being a brat and saw reason,” she conceded dryly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s not the important part right now. What I wanted to say is, do something nice for Weasley and I’m sure he’ll be much more willing to talk things out with you.”

Thinking about Skye’s words for a moment, Lizzie couldn’t deny that Skye’s method had worked on her in the past; maybe it was worth a shot. She had nothing to lose anyway.

“Okay, you genius, maybe you’re right. Any idea how I get Rowan to be normal again as well?”

“Of course I am right, Jameson. Told you, I’m good at apologising.” Now it was Skye’s turn to roll her eyes. “As for Rowan; if you ask me, she’s acting super childish, but whatever. You did everything she wanted, now it’s her turn to make an effort. I’d say, just act as normal as the two of you get; worked for Penny and me as well.”

Lizzie only hummed in response. It was true, Penny’s and Skye’s friendship had normalised again; but the starting situation between them had been a very different one. On the other hand, Skye had a point; Lizzie had met Rowan’s terms for reconciliation; it would take both of them to fix their friendship, not only her.

“You got any advice on Orion as well?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Skye raised her hands defensively and shook her head. “Blimey, I’m absolutely no expert in that field. I’d suggest you go to Penny for that; or Murphy for all I care. I bet he’d have some statistics to share with you.”

Laughing at the thought, Skye got up and stretched her arms. “Anyway, look at me getting all wise and reasonable, I’m almost getting scared by myself; let’s get out of here.”

Lizzie pointed at their half-finished assignments. “We’re not done yet.”

“No, but Flying lessons are bound to be over soon and I want to get a run in before places are getting crowded again; wouldn’t hurt you too, you know. Running helps getting your mind off things.”

She looked around at the old, dusty bookshelves towering around them. “You can only get depressed in a gloomy place like this.”

*

Skye had been right; after she and Lizzie had gotten changed into something more suitable for running and stepped outside into the blinding summer sun, Lizzie felt her mood lift almost instantly.

They were going at a good and demanding pace, each spurning the other on when they began to slow. The combination of sunlight, fresh air and the pounding rhythm of their steps was clearing Lizzie’s head and she felt a good bit of her energy returning to her.

Under normal circumstances, the Hufflepuff team would have exercised together to get into proper shape for the upcoming Quidditch final. The circumstances were anything but normal, however, and Orion hadn’t been in the spirits for extensive group training exceeding their official practise times.

So Skye and Lizzie had taken up running as a compensation for the many hours they were spending hunched over their notes and textbooks. Both being more on the competitive side, their workouts never failed to wear Lizzie’s mind and body out in the best way possible; it was one of the only things that helped her fall asleep these days.

They were racing along the path leading towards the Black Lake, which was glittering brightly in the sunlight. When they had reached the shore, Skye slowed her pace to a moderate jog, allowing both of them to catch their breaths.

Running while the rest of the school was still stuck in their classrooms had been a good decision; before long, the shoreline would be swarmed by students enjoying the warm weather. But now, the scenery was remarkably empty, allowing them to run next to each other without having to dodge picnic blankets, school bags or the odd Fanged Frisbee.

“Now, look who it is.”

Skye had slowed even further, now coming to a halt in the shadow of a tree. Lizzie joined her and dipped her head back, eagerly gulping down deep breaths into her burning lungs. After her heartbeat started normalising, she followed Skye’s gaze.

A good bit ahead of them Orion and Murphy were sitting in the shade of a willow tree overhanging the shore. At least, Murphy was sitting; he was bent deeply over one of his playbooks, scribbling something into it before crossing it out and starting over again.

Orion, on the other hand, was taking his own spin on preparing for their match. One of his favourite ways of exercising besides broom balancing had always been doing yoga; he had even tried to implement it into their practise routine a few years ago, until Skye had threatened him with open mutiny.

At present, he was balancing in some sort of handstand, his weight resting on his underarms. His hair was falling into his face, but Lizzie knew his eyes were closed in concentration to keep his pose and balance. Every time he wavered, she could see the exposed muscles of his arms tensing ever so slightly to keep himself upright. Being upside down, his white shirt had slipped downwards, revealing the bronzed skin of his toned stomach.

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Lizzie turned away, only to face Skye watching her with a smug expression. The blush on Lizzie’s face didn’t only stem from running in the heat of the afternoon sun anymore.

“Yeah, I heard Flitwick was ill today, they probably got some time off.” She leaned on Lizzie’s shoulder grinning like a Cheshire cat at the flustered state of her friend. “Want to go over?”

The warmth that had spread in Lizzie’s stomach despite her best efforts died down as quickly as it had appeared. Her eyes dropping to the ground, Lizzie quietly shook her head.

She staggered a bit to the side as Skye’s weight suddenly left her shoulder. Her friend was looking at her sympathetically. “Oh man, no, that’s not what I wanted; don’t go looking all sad again. Remember what we said, no –“

“No heartache, no distraction,” Lizzie finished what had somehow become her own personal mantra. “I know.”

But she couldn’t help the wistful sigh that escaped her as she surreptitiously glanced over at Orion one more time. Luckily, neither of the boys seemed to have noticed them so far.

She was brought back to her senses by Skye snapping her fingers in front of her face. “Stop the pining, Jameson, that won’t help you get over this.” Her voice turned softer when she added, “For what it’s worth, I think you guys would’ve made a smashing couple after all.”

Lizzie took a moment to answer, as she thought about what might have been for a second. “Maybe, but it’s not going to happen now,” she muttered defeatedly. “Besides, I thought that went against team philosophy.”

“It does,” Skye confirmed, “but still, would’ve been better than how it is now. Quidditch used to be a lot more fun when you and him were talking to each other.”

Her eyes suddenly flashed with determination and she started moving away from Lizzie. “You know what? Screw Rowan, I’m going to do something about this.”

It was only thanks to her reflexes that Lizzie managed to catch her elbow before Skye was out of her reach. “No, you are absolutely not,” she hissed. “Stay out of this, Parkin!”

She waited until Skye had abandoned her attempt to march over to their friends before she added, “And besides, what Orion’s doing is actually pretty difficult, I don’t want you to ruin his concentration.”

Skye watched him sceptically. “You sure? He’s looking pretty relaxed to me.”

“He always does but believe me, it is hard. He showed me how to do it once and let me tell you, I didn’t know my body could hurt that much; he positively wrecked me.”

Skye guffawed at her words. “He wrecked you, huh?” she snickered. “Is there more to the story than what you told me?”

Realising what she had said, Lizzie felt herself blushing furiously. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Skye Parkin!” she cried, but not without a laugh ringing in her voice. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

But Skye was working herself into a laughing fit and Lizzie felt a grin spread on her own face as well. She shoved Skye playfully, who was doubling over from laughter by now. It resulted in Syke falling to the ground, which made Lizzie burst into laughter herself.

Before long, both girls were crying tears of laughter, not even laughing at Skye’s joke anymore but simply for the sake of it. Lizzie was so distracted by her hurting cheeks and stinging sides, that she didn’t notice Skye stealthily moving closer to the water; she dipped her hand into the icy cold water of the lake, splashing a good load of it into Lizzie’s face.

Lizzie screeched when the water hit her face, making Skye cackle even harder, but Lizzie was having none of it.

“That means war, Parkin!” she exclaimed, trying to tackle her friend down into the grass.

But Skye was already up and running again, with Lizzie hot on her heels. “Only if you catch me, Jameson!”

*

Contrary to what Lizzie believed, Orion and Murphy had, in fact, noticed Lizzie and Skye. Their voices drifted over to them, too far away to make out what exactly they were saying, but the familiar sound was tugging at Orion’s concentration.

He felt both his physical and mental balance slip and breathed deeply, trying to block out his thoughts by concentrating on staying balanced on his underarms. His fingers dug into the cool grass and his brow furrowed from the prolonged effort of supporting his body with the strength of his shoulders alone.

Focusing on the stinging in his muscles, he embraced the pain before letting it go with a slow breath; his wavering body became still again as he returned to his peaceful headspace.

Murphy had seen the girls as well. Orion could hear him closing his playbook, followed by the rustling of his clothes as he leaned his back against the trunk of the tree.

“Skye and Lizzie seem to take your directive of preparing for the finals seriously,” he glanced at Orion, who was still frozen in the same position he had been in for quite some time now. “Counting you doing whatever the hell you’re doing there, at least 42.86 % of your team is increasing their physical fitness on a regular basis.”

Orion only hummed noncommittally in response; he wasn’t in the mood for talking.

But he wasn’t surprised to find Murphy happily ignoring his silence. “Gryffindor is the fastest team out of the four by a whopping 24.7 % on average. The only thing to raise your stakes is improving your technical features and come up with a flawless strategy, which I am working upon; theoretically, that is,” he added quickly, “I am, after all, impartial.”

Murphy’s chatter had it for his concentration. With a sigh Orion let his feet slowly fall back to the ground and sat upright with his legs crossed beneath him. He waited a moment to let his head adjust to his shift in position before he opened his eyes.

Lizzie and Skye were standing in the shadow of a tree, probably taking a moment to cool down from the summer heat. Orion noticed the blond streaks running through Lizzie’s usually honey brown hair, where the sun had lightened it over the last few weeks. It had grown longer again, her beloved ponytail reaching down between her shoulder blades. The lighter hair contrasted beautifully with her tanned skin, bronzed from the countless hours he knew Lizzie was spending outside. All the running and practising had toned her body even more than it had been anyway and her face was flushed from the fast pace she and Skye had been going at.

With a sigh, Orion closed his eyes again, letting the butterflies rising up in his stomach subside. Thinking about her in that way was no use; it held nothing but distraction for him.

Lizzie had barely been talking to anyone but Skye for weeks now. Although she still sat with her friends during their meals, Orion could see that she wasn’t happy.

Her energy had the power to light up a whole room, drawing everyone into her orbit, whether they wanted or not. Nowadays, her fire seemed dimmed, her shoulders constantly slumped and her beautiful smile had become a rare sight.

Orion was a firm believer that everything in life was balanced; for every good, there was a bad, a low for every high, a pattern continuously repeating itself in an eternal cycle.

But lately, he had been wondering how long this particular low after the short high he and Lizzie had experienced together would last. He was worried about her, and not only because of their final match being almost on their doorstep.

For the first time since he’d known her, she didn’t seem to have her heart with her on the pitch. It was apparent that she was trying hard to perform well, but he could see how much she was struggling. There was nothing Orion wanted more than to help her regain the fire he admired so much, but he didn’t know how to go about it..

The sound of laughter drifted over to them and before Orion could do anything about it, all the emotions he had tried to let go of earlier were there again, bubbling under his skin even stronger than before. Hearing Lizzie laugh was a rare sound these days and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t help his lips curving into a smile of his own.

“It’s good to hear her laughing again,” Murphy noted quietly. Apparently, Orion wasn’t the only one worried about Lizzie’s state of mind.

“It is,” Orion agreed, his eyes still closed while he tried to find his breathing pattern again.

“The chances of her being in the right state of mind in time for your last match stand at 48.5 % to 51.5 %.”

Orion opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows in McNully’s direction. “Don’t you think that’s rather vague?”

Murphy let out a cheerful laugh. “Well, if there’s one thing hard to predict, I’d reckon it’s girls.”

Orion chuckled along with him as he finally stretched his arms before letting himself fall back into the grass.

“For once, my friend, I can say that I wholeheartedly agree with you.”

[cece-0708]

Surprise

AO3 | Rating - G | Kamijirou | 1K

Summary: After Jirou broke into the top twenty pro heroes, life has become more stressful. Luckily for her, she has a doting boyfriend to help ease that stress.

————————

Jirou let out a loud sigh of frustration as her head loudly slammed down onto the desk. She’d downed at least five cups of coffee throughout the day but still felt incredibly tense despite her shift being almost over.

Lately, hero work had been much harder than usual. After it was announced that Earphone Jack was now ranked in the top twenty, Jirou was being sought out for more work. Some aspects of this bigger workload were much more draining than before, too — both mentally and physically.

(Jirou obviously wasn’t ungrateful or anything, but she sure pitied her friends in the top ten.)

These additional missions also had the added side effect of more paperwork, something she vehemently hated with every fibre of her being. It was incredibly monotonous.

Her phone buzzed.

Barely lifting her head off the desk, Jirou reached across to grab the phone and check whatever notification had popped up. She smiled softly as the image of her and Kaminari on their last day at U.A. flashed on the screen as she unlocked it with her fingerprint. She opened her messages to see that said long-term boyfriend had been the one to contact her.

‘Can you come home early? I’ve got a surprise for you!’

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed. Jirou loved her job, really, but she could do with a good bubble bath right about now or maybe a massage.

Hopefully, Kaminari’s surprise wasn’t something ridiculously idiotic like that one time he thought it would be a good idea to prank her by mixing ketchup with baking soda and then shaking it for a whole minute. Jirou cringed at the memory of having to scrub the red sauce out of every nook and cranny of their kitchen. It had been a long and tedious process. She’d banned Kaminari from the kitchen for an entire week after the incident.

“I’m going home early!” Jirou announced to her sidekicks as she shrugged on her leather jacket and grabbed her motorbike helmet and keys. “I’ll make up the time tomorrow!”

—————

“Good evening, miss top-twenty-on-the-billboard-chart.” Kaminari greeted with a wink as he flamboyantly swung open the door. He kissed Jirou on the forehead before shuffling aside to let her into their shared apartment.

“Shut up,” Jirou grumbled with a laugh, a blush rising to her cheeks. She playfully nudged his arm with her jacks and was met with a grin in return. “You’re in the top twenty, too, or did you forget?”

She rolled her eyes as she toed off her boots, about to head into the living area when an arm hooked around her waist. Kaminari pulled Jirou close so their faces were only inches apart and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Jirou shot him a deadpan look which read ‘do I have to?’

“Please?” Kaminari begged. He softened his expression—something he knew for certain Jirou was never able to say no to. (It hadn’t been enough to get him out of trouble for the ketchup incident, though.)

“Okay.”

As Jirou’s eyes fluttered shut, Kaminari pressed a hand to the small of her back. He guided her through the apartment and made sure she didn’t bump into any of the furniture.

“And now… open!”

All of their pillows and blankets — which they actually owned plenty of given Kaminari’s affinity for soft things — were gathered next to the sofa, expertly put together to construct a blanket fort big enough for them to sit inside. Fairy lights were strewn across the ‘entrance’, the soft hues changing every few seconds. It was beautiful.

“Ta-da!” Kaminari exclaimed, waving his hands.

Jirou walked closer, pushing one of the hanging blankets aside to reveal a pile of cushions and a few more lights inside. She felt sad that this would have to be taken down at some point as Kaminari had clearly put a lot of thought into it.

“Did you do this all by yourself?” Jirou asked, looking back at him to meet his loving gaze. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Kaminari running around the apartment with bundles of blankets in his arms.

He nodded. “And that’s not even the whole thing.”

“It’s not?”

Kaminari shook his head and crossed his arms, grinning smugly. “This is only part one,” he held up a single finger, “of your surprise. Get comfortable, and I’ll bring you part two.”

Jirou clambered inside as her doting boyfriend ran off to their bedroom. She winced at the sound of a loud bang that came from the direction Kaminari had run off to.

“I’m okay!” Came a distant, muffled shout.

With a fond smile, Jirou rolled her eyes. That idiot must have been wearing slippery socks again. He never learned from that particular mistake, always sliding across the wooden floor and crashing into furniture. Thankfully, it only led to a few odd bruises. It was endearing, though, and Jirou’s life wouldn’t be the same without that simple joy. That was the best thing about being with Kaminari — he never failed to make her laugh.

“You ready?” Kaminari asked as he popped his head in the fort. “Be careful. It’s heavy.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you to be careful?” Jirou teased as he sat down next to her, settling a huge box on his lap.

Kaminari feigned shock and pressed a hand over his heart. “I can’t imagine why.”

Jirou rolled her eyes once again and held out her arms. Kaminari passed over the box, wringing his hands together once they were empty. He looked at her expectantly.

‘I wonder what’s inside,’ she thought. It would probably be a bad idea to shake something this heavy, so that was off the table.

Carefully, Jirou pulled the lid off. A sharp gasp escaped her lips when her eyes landed upon the objects nestled inside.

A gramophone. Kaminari had bought a gramophone for her. And vinyls!

“I was gonna wait until your birthday to give you this,” he explained, “but you’ve been so stressed out because of work lately, so I thought maybe—“

Kaminari squeaked as Jirou silenced his ramble with a kiss. She pressed their foreheads together after pulling away.

“I love it,” she breathed, taking a moment to just stare into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s a hero’s job to help those in need,” he quipped in return.

Jirou snorted. “In that case, I have a lot of tension between my shoulders. Give me a massage?”

Kaminari quickly moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Your wish is my command!”

————————

Thanks for reading! This has been sitting unedited for a while now because I had no idea what to title it (and still don’t. Coming up with titles is my biggest weakness).

[aal-archaeology]

Summary of my first term of my Ph.D. at Stanford during a global pandemic and an extremely controversial election year (Anthropology, yr. 1, she/they, 25y/o) with some toggl data analysis

Well this year was a doozy if I don’t say so myself. But we survived it, and its okay if that’s all you were able to do this year because that’s enough.  As an offical 18th grader, I feel like I can speak pretty well to the toxicity of the academic environment. There is always a pressure to be working all of the time, people compete with each other with how few hours of sleep they got, every conversation with fellow students is just listing off all of the different assignemnts you have to do by the end of the week. On top of all of this, this is 2020. So, I decided that this year I’m going to give myself some mental slack. 

I decided that this is the year that I’m not going to try to impress anyone. I’m just going to survive and do what I have to do to move onto the next term. I think I did a pretty good job at that for the first term, so I’ll share a bit about what I observed in myself and those in my cohort. Coming into term one having to choose classes, many of my peers were packing their schedules full of 5 Unit seminars. For those who don’t know, theoretically, a 5 Unit course is supposed to take about 5-6 hours of work outside of class hours. For Stanford Anthropology, most PhD students take as close as they can to 18 credits, and anything over that you have to pay extra for the courses. Taking more courses doesn’t really put you any further ahead in terms of completing your degree, and you’re expected to complete about 45 Units each year for the first two years of the program. 

I decided to take 2 seminars (typical), a language course, and a couple filler credits that we are given the option to use if we need 1-3 units to hit 18 total. I,  fortunately, tracked every hour spent outside of the classroom working on each course using toggl (i highly reccomend): 

In a typical week, I spent about 5-6 hours/week outside of class on my Anthro seminars, and about 6-7 hours on Japanese. Japanese was a “for-fun” class so I would usually study more of that when I didn’t feel like reading dense archaeological theory. 

Toggl was a really cool way to see where I was spending too much, or not enough, time on my classwork. If it was taking me more than 1.5 hours to get through a single article, I knew I was probably spending too much time on it and should move on to the next thing. My goal for the term was to stay true to the 5 Unit idea of 5-6 hours, and not over-work myself. 

Toggl was also useful in tracking my mental health throughout the term, as it is very obvious to see when I just was not physically capable of ingesting 400 pages of reading. For example, election week:

Election week was really hard for me, and everyone else in the world honestly. I had various family things I was dealing with, typical existential dread, plus it was week 8-ish of the term when everything was already on fire in terms of workload. For one of my seminars (purple), we had to read a book for the following week which I was able to do the sundar after election day. However, for the days leading up to and surrounding the 4th, the only thing I could mentally handle was mindless Japanese vocab studying. One of my seminars really sufferend this week, and I straight up just didnt show up to the smaller Anth 310G class because I had only read the title of the pdf. Fortunately, I emailed my professor of my Theory class and was like “yo dude I cannot” and he replied that he understood and wouldnt call on me during that day of class. 

I didn’t do a whole lot of journalling at all this term, but for this week I just wrote “pain” on most days and then YAY BIDEN at the end of it. 

Weekly Schedule

Above is what a typical week looked like, some were a lot lot lot more dense, others not so much, but this was pretty average. Not all things on the calendar are work related, some are extra lectures from visiting professors that sounded interesting, or “Free Boba & Snacks Pick Up” put on by my residence. Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday were my big work days last term, where I didn’t have a whole lot of classes so I would do most of my reading then. On Tues and Thurs I had one 3-hour seminar, and M-F I had a 50 min Japanese class. 

I woke up every day around 7am-ish, made a green tea, and sat at the computer to work, filter through emails, etc. On particularily open days I would go grocery shopping, go for bike rides/walks around campus, go buy food/boba. 

On class-heavy days, I wouldn’t leave my computer for 8-12 hours, which is extremely ridiculous but that’s the new norm in school in 2020. This kind of stunk because all of the socializing was also on the computer, so even if I wasn’t working I was doing screen related things. 

EVERY day I stopped working at 6pm. Rarely did I do readings past 6pm unless I was really slacking somewhere. From 6pm onwards I would do things like play Among Us or League of Legends with my discord friends, eat, watch movies with my partner, etc. And then most nights I would try to be in bed by 12am at the latest. 

Social Life

Despite the online nature of things this term, I was suprisingly able to meet a lot of great people on campus. We were all being tested at least once a week, which made in person gatherings with 1-4 people a little less scary, especially when half of the people lived together in one household. 

In the first week of school, some of the grad programs put on a “speed friending” zoom event, where I was able to connect with two people really well. We ended up doing a “slow-friending” zoom event afterwards and then created a FB group chat and added all of the people we had met into it. The group ended up being about 15 people, and we would message the group for park hangouts, going to get food, or going on walks on campus. We also had a huge get together in a park for Mid-Autumn Festival, where we sat in a socially distanced circle, chatted, and ate mooncakes. 

Most of my socializing came from my online friends, and amongus was a huge savior to my mental health this term wher emy group would play literally every night. I also made a really good friend off of Bumble BFF this term, who I’ve hung out with a good amount for plant shopping and board games. 

I’m very fortunate to be in a situation where I can get tested for COVID on a days notice, and very grateful that I could use that to stay a little sane.  My Biggest Accomplishment this term, was not school related. but instead I hit my 365 DAY STREAK on duolingo. This was celebrated with cake. This streak has lived through literal hell and for that I am very proud. 

Overall reflection:

This term was super rough, there were a lot of days where I just napped through it and a lot of days where I couldn’t bring myself to do any work. However, I think the courseload that I took was very manageable and I’m going to continue to go light on myself in that regard. 

I really liked the boundaries that I set for myself this term, not working after 6pm and making time to do some fun things in the midst of chaos. I never felt like I was too far behind on work, or that I wasn’t doing enough, because I had a literal reminder in front of me that I had already put x amount of hours into something with toggl. 

Sometimes in class I would feel like I didn’t know how to productively contribute to conversation, but I think thats a skill that will get better over time and not being so great at it should especially be expected in the first term of a program.

Socially I met a lot of wonderful people who also made me feel more comfortable will myself. I started using She/They pronouns which feel really comforting to me. I made a lot of little origami cranes every time I was feeling sad. I drank a lot of boba. Watched a lot of She Ra. Played a lot of games. It all ended up being okay despite the weight of everything around me. 

I’m proud of all of you for making it through this year, I know it was really difficult for a lot of people in more ways than it was for me, but we’re still here! Sometimes all you can do it make it to the next day and thats such a big accomplishment on its own.  Please feel free to reach out with any questions about time-management, toggl, phd stuff in general, archaeology, etc! Always happy to help out. :’) Thanks for reading! Lyss

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 24

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account whenihaveyou.romione

A/N: The wiggentree is believed to protect from dark magical creatures, which I thought fit perfectly in an office that — despite Hermione’s efforts — are not yet accustomed to treating creatures as equals. I thought it was ironic and fitting for this chapter. 

---------

Chapter 24

“Are you sure you don’t want to take this mission?” Harry asked, waving the sign up sheet in front of Ron. “It’ll be the easiest one, because there’ll be no one about to cause too much trouble.”

“Not likely,” Ron said, pushing the sheet away. “I’ll wait for the one that comes after Christmas. I’d much rather spend Christmas at the Burrow, and with Hermione, than in some run down inn in the middle of who knows where. Ginny won’t be happy when she finds out you’ve signed up to be away for Christmas, by the way.”

“Ginny will be away for Christmas,” Harry said. “Which is why I thought I’d do it.”

“Where will Ginny be?” Ron asked, surprised, as that was the first he’d heard of it.

“Training,” Harry said, shrugging. “Apparently all the new Harpies recruits are being put to the test over the Christmas break. She couldn’t even get the day off to Apparate home.”

“Huh,” Ron said, “life of a professional Quidditch player.”

“So it seems,” Harry said. “Though, thankfully, not quite professional yet.”

Ron, who had felt mildly put out when Ginny had told him she’d been offered a spot in the squad of the Holyhead Harpies, had taken some time to get used to the idea of his sister potentially becoming a professional Quidditch player in the next few months. He was proud of her, of course, but also, he wouldn’t have minded such a job — though, in reality, if he couldn’t perform well in front of the Hogwarts students, he doubted a larger crowd of fans would be any better. 

But being in the team had come at a price of being forced to stay in Holyhead more than she could be at home. Sometimes, she’d be away for a week at a time, a fate which Ron sympathised with Harry over from when Hermione had gone to Australia.

“She’s home tonight, though?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, for the next few days,” Harry said. “Then she’s gone again.”

“Honestly, I thought that if Ginny wasn’t going to be home, you might want to spend some time with Teddy — and Andromeda. Mum would still love to have you, too, you know.”

Harry grimaced. 

“Yeah… I’ll be seeing Teddy a little before Christmas. Spending a day with him… on my own this time. Completely on my own.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ron said. “He loves you.”

Harry laughed. “I wouldn’t say that, but it’s getting easier each time.”

“Except for the time he completely destroyed your living room, right?”

On one of the times Teddy had visited Harry — the now walking and running small child had gotten into everything that was in the Grimmauld place sitting room. He’d tore out books from bookshelves and ripped up some pages, knocked off empty vases and pulled down the few photos Harry had put up. Ron, who’d witnessed the event, had called Teddy a terror. Hermione had said it was normal for that age.

Harry shook his head at the memory. He’d had all visits with Teddy under the supervision of Andromeda since then. 

Ron nodded. “Well, speaking of homes, I better go and drag Hermione from the office to make sure she actually leaves it today. Did you know she didn’t get home until one this morning? Apparently she was working so intently on one of these laws she’s been tasked to write that she lost track of time. She’s not eating properly either, forgoing meals to continue working.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “Well, that’s Hermione, isn’t it? Prioritising work above all else. Do you not remember exam time?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, “but she’s going to wear herself out if she keeps going. We haven’t had a proper conversation in about a week, because she gets home, goes straight to bed, then gets up at a ridiculous hour to head back in. Then, she skips her lunch breaks. She’s mad.”

Harry smiled. “Ah well, good luck tonight then. See you on Monday. Hopefully Hermione has a good rest over the weekend.”

“Ha!” Ron said. “Try telling her that.”

He gave Harry another wave, who’d just finished packing up his own stuff, and headed down the corridor from the Auror office. 

The first missions for the trainees were coming up — experiencing time away, on a job. It wasn’t a planned job, and they didn’t yet know where they’d be going, as the Aurors were hoping something would eventuate in that time frame. 

There would be one over Christmas (good character building, they said, for when they actually become Aurors and get unexpectedly called away from their loved ones) or one just after New Years. 

Ron had chosen the one after New Years, with Neville, while Harry had elected for the Christmas one. He was mad, Ron reasoned. Who would willingly go away for Christmas?

He reached the lift, and instead of going to the atrium and to the fireplaces, he went to the level that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was on. Most people headed in the opposite direction to him, with it being slightly after five and keen to get home. But Ron knew that he’d find Hermione hunched over at her desk still, scribbling away at the SPEW law she was working on. 

Honestly, he didn’t know why she needed to do so much work for it. She had done much of the research back in her fourth year, but apparently much more than her fifteen year old had managed now needed to be done. Apparently, the long term goal was to banish house-elf enslavement altogether, but for the time being, the law was to have better control over the families house-elves were assigned to. And in the case of generational ownership, she sought to abolish that immediately. 

Since August, when she’d started her job, Ron had spent countless evenings listening to her talk about it over dinner, and weekends sitting with her as she pored over books to gather her information. He’d been keen to begin with, but the novelty of it had soon worn off — especially when his own workload increased as he reached the halfway point of his second year of training. 

Now, he just wanted her to come home and eat something with him — or, as things currently were, eat anything at all. 

He pushed open the Magical Being office, unsurprised to see most desks empty. But over in the corner, by a wiggentree (the irony, Ron thought with a smile), sat Hermione. She didn’t even look up as Ron approached, but continued to scribble on a lengthy roll of parchment, her hand darting backwards and forwards quickly. 

“Hey,” Ron said, drawing up a chair to sit opposite her. “It’s past five. You’ve got to come home.”

“I’ve just got to finish this,” Hermione said, not looking up from her work. “You can go. I may be a while.”

“Yeah, you said that last night,” Ron said, “and remind me again when you got home.”

“I lost track of time,” Hermione told him absently. She paused, her brows knitting together for a moment, and then started writing again, just as quick as before. 

“Did you eat today?” Ron asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“So, no.” 

“I’m far too busy. The workload is increasing each day. But I promise that once I get home, I’ll eat enough to make up for the meals I skipped today.” She paused, still not looking at him. “You can go,” she said again.

“Nope,” Ron said, “I won’t leave until you’re done, which is now.” He removed the quill from her grasp, but she’d not been expecting it, and the ink dragged across her page, leaving a smear across her freshly written notes. 

“Ron!” Hermione cried, taking out her wand to remove the smudge. “Can you not do that?” She snatched the quill back, finally looking up at him. 

“I want you to come home,” Ron said, a little defensive now. “You can’t stay here all night again. It isn’t healthy.”

“I’ve got so much to do, and it won’t get done —”

“You’re always going to have work to do,” Ron told her as she returned her gaze to the parchment. “And you’re the most organised person I know, so if I can balance my workload each day, then you can, too.”

“Yes, but I have far more than you do, Ron. You’re just a trainee, so you have the qualified —”

“Just a trainee?” Ron asked, a pang of something unpleasant creeping up on him now. “Is that how you see what I do, is it?”

Sighing, Hermione placed her quill down and looked up. She looked so tired, a little stressed — Ron had a feeling that not all of it was caused by her work. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, though she didn’t sound all that apologetic. “I just meant… well, an Auror — qualified or in training — is a lot more physical. You do more hands-on things, you’re out and about, so you’re not going to have as much desk work to do. It’s the nature of the job.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, not quite sure he was hearing what she was saying. It wasn’t even what she was saying, but how. She spoke as if what she was doing was far more important — something that had never happened before. She’d always encouraged him, supported him in his journey to become an Auror. 

“An Auror is one of the most skilled positions in the magical world —”

“Ron, I know that —”

“Some didn’t even make it to the second year of training —”

“Ron, I didn’t mean… listen, I’m just really tired, and I really need to get this done. Can you just… leave me alone so I can finish it? I’ll be home as soon as I do, but the longer you’re here, the less I get finished.”

“Last week you were asking for my help,” Ron told her, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. 

Hermione said nothing. For a moment, they looked at each other, then another moment later, Hermione looked back down at her work. 

Ron waited a little longer, watching from the other side of her desk, but it became clear very quickly that she had no intention in having a change of heart. 

Annoyed, upset, and a little angry, Ron jumped to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He watched her for a moment longer before saying, “I’ll see you at home, then. Whenever that will be.”

He marched to the door, but just as he went to swing it open, the magically coloured work timetable that appeared in every office, caught his eye. As they drew to the end of October, offices were beginning to plan for the holiday period. 

He paused, reading through the timetable. “I see you’re working Christmas,” he said, not at all kindly.

Hermione gave a start, apparently having not realised he was still there.

“Oh, yes… they needed someone for a few hours in the evening. I said I could do it.”

Ron glared at the timetable for another moment, and then without a word to Hermione, he left. He didn’t go to the atrium, though, but returned to the Auror office, which was now empty. 

Locating the sign-up sheets for the missions pinned on the noticeboard, Ron erased his name from the New Years one with his wand and scribbled his name on the Christmas one instead. 

If Hermione didn’t think it important enough to take the Christmas break off, then neither did he. If she thought working during a time they were supposed to spend together was a better option, then he’d do the same. He didn’t care. It was only Christmas. 

But even as he left, this time definitely returning to the atrium, a feeling of regret began to creep over him. They’d fought last Christmas because of something very similar, and he’d vowed to make sure it never happened again. But they were two months away from their second Christmas together, and already he was consumed with bitterness.

And now he’d just signed the holidays away to boot. 

[morningfears]

Television Romance [Chapter Two]

Rating: PG-13 (a little suggestive, a little swearing)

Summary: Luke and Natalia go on their first date and they’re surprised at how well they get along. Natalia is also surprised at how well she’s able to ruin a moment.

Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter One

The conference room was empty as Natalia settled into one of the oversized office chairs situated around the long wooden table. She still had twenty minutes until colloquium, a meeting that took place every other Friday and served as a way for students to get to know their professors’ and colleagues’ research interests, began but she had just gotten out of a meeting with her advisor and didn’t feel like walking the extra few steps to the grad office. She knew that it would be full of students, each of them expressing how pointless they found colloquium or how annoyed they were to be on campus on a Friday, and though she usually felt compelled to agree (colloquium was, for the most part, pointless and her Fridays suffered greatly for it), she was in too good a mood to complain.

Although her workload had felt overwhelming, she’d managed to finish it all in far less time than she anticipated. She’d worked harder than she had in months and her sleep schedule suffered dearly for it but her advisor had the first draft of her thesis proposal, her conference paper had been submitted with nearly twelve hours to spare, and her co-author had the revisions necessary to resubmit their journal article. Her students had their first grades of the semester and every unread email in her inbox was answered.

She was exhausted, mentally and physically, but she’d managed to free her schedule completely so that she would have nothing to worry about when she went to dinner with Luke.

As if he could sense her thinking about him, Natalia’s phone vibrated in her hand and a message from Luke appeared on the screen. “Is it too cheesy to tell you that I’ve been looking forward to this all week?”

Natalia grinned at the message, a goofy smile that made her cheeks hurt, and bit back an uncharacteristic giggle as she replied, “Only if it’s cheesy to tell you that I’ve been looking forward to it, too.”

Though she had been somewhat excited when she met him - he was gorgeous - her excitement only grew the more they interacted. Throughout the week, she and Luke had exchanged dozens of messages. Most of them were superficial, wishes for good days and texts meant to plan their evening, but a few had been more fun and inquisitive. They’d wanted to save the traditional questions for the date itself - what do you do, where are you from, what brings you to LA? - so they’d had to get creative in getting to know one another.

Luke had taken to sending her cheesy jokes, stupid puns and ridiculous questions - her favorite of which was whether she would fight one horse sized duck or a dozen duck sized horses - in an effort to get to know her and it made her giddy with anticipation. She thought he was cute and he seemed charming. He was fun, silly, and sweet and she found herself starting to like him more than she thought she would. She wasn’t attached, not yet, but she could feel herself growing more comfortable with the idea of him becoming a part of her life and she only hoped that that would extend to their in-person meeting.

As she grinned at Luke’s latest joke, a cheese pun that made her groan in delight, she failed to notice the door of the conference room open or the bag drop onto the table beside her. She was too engrossed in typing out her reply, a string of emojis and a half-hearted plea for him to find a new hobby, to notice Nicole take a seat. Only when she spoke did Natalia look away from her phone.

“Okay, so, I was thinking about ordering pizza for tonight. We have some money in the grad association account and free food is the only thing I can think of that will convince people to spend their Friday night locked in the grad office. We can’t buy their alcohol but I promised everyone we would go out for drinks once the last person hit submit.”

Natalia blinked, confused as to what Nicole was talking about, before her eyes widened and her heart dropped in realization. “The writing party, fuck,” she groaned, her head falling back as she huffed a sigh of annoyance at her mistake. She wasn’t normally one to forget things - she was the first person anyone turned to when they needed to know a deadline - but it had completely slipped her mind. She’d been so caught up in wanting to see Luke that anything nonessential had completely fallen off her radar. “I’m so sorry, Ni. I totally forgot all about it.”

“It’s no big deal,” Nicole assured her as she watched Natalia spin in her chair to face her. “It really didn’t need any planning. I just sent out an email. I was hoping you could bring some of those method books of yours, though. I don’t have anything to submit so I wanted to work on my proposal. I’m having trouble wording the coding section.”

Natalia grimaced and shook her head. “No, Ni, I forgot and, uh, sort of made other plans?” 

She tried her hardest not to look guilty - it was an informal writing group that likely wouldn’t get much writing done, anyway - but Natalia felt bad. She knew that Nicole was struggling to get her proposal done and there weren’t many other people she could turn to for help. Their program was small, one of the smallest on campus, and of the current cohort, only she, Nicole, and one doctoral student had chosen the same methodology. They hadn’t had a formal class on the method yet - they’d been thrown to the wolves, not unlike the rest of their graduate career - and relied on one another to make the best of their situation.

This would have been an opportunity for them to sit down, uninterrupted by life, and work out the roadblocks she’d been hitting. However, Natalia had forgotten and committed to dinner with Luke.

“I can reschedule,” she offered, before Nicole could speak, “I feel like he wouldn’t mind.”

At the mention of a ‘he’, Nicole raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “No, seriously, it’s not a big deal. We can meet during office hours next week or something. But, that’s beside the point.” She dropped her cellphone onto the table and turned her full attention to Natalia as she asked, “He? Who is he?”

Natalia knew that Nicole was expecting her to say that the aforementioned he was her father, who she had dinner with once a week, or the new TA that followed her around like a lost puppy. But she wasn’t expecting her to say, “The guy from the coffee shop, Luke.”

“The one that destroyed your dress?” Nicole did look surprised, her eyebrows remained raised and her mouth dropped open, but she looked almost amused at the sheepish grin that graced Natalia’s face. “Let me guess, he asked you out as a way to make up for it?”

“…yes. He’s so cute, Ni, I couldn’t say no,” Natalia gushed with a grin as she shifted in her chair and reached for her phone. Nicole rolled her eyes good-naturedly and rolled her chair a little closer to lean over and take a look at the text thread Natalia pulled up. “Look, he’s been sending me stupid jokes all week and he’s excited about the date and so am I.”

“Wait, date? Holy shit, Nat, get laid!”

Natalia and Nicole glanced up from her phone and watched as Ali, the third member of their cohort - the only other master’s student that started the program at the same time as them - stepped into the conference room and took a seat across from them. “D’you finally agree to meet a Tinder match in person?” she asked as she grabbed a notebook and pen from her backpack.

“No, they met the old fashioned way; he destroyed her dress by spilling coffee on her,” Nicole answered for her as she grabbed her own notebook out of her backpack.

“Oh, retro vibes, cute. Is he hot?” Natalia rolled her eyes fondly as Ali leaned forward, her eyebrows raised as she waited for a response.

Although the three of them had grown as close as sisters and looked quite similar to one another, they couldn’t be more different. Nicole was the oldest - she’d taken two years off between undergrad and grad school - and acted like it. She was the voice of reason, the calming presence that kept Natalia from overreacting and Ali from under-reacting. She was the heart of the group, the one who provided a shoulder to cry on and a kind word of advice when things got tough, and neither Natalia nor Ali could imagine getting through grad school without her. Nicole was also married and had been for three years. She and her husband had been together since their freshman year of college - they met in a class - and she was very happy to be in a committed, long term relationship.

Ali was the wildcard of their group. She was a free spirit, only acting according to her own desires, and was unapologetic in how she lived her life. She was the group’s sense of courage, pushing Natalia out of her comfort zone by taking her out to bars and helping her fill her closet with clothes she never would’ve imagined herself wearing as well as helping Nicole get through the semester without bowing to the pressures of the administration. Like Natalia, Ali was technically single. Unlike Natalia, however, Ali dated around and kept her options open. She had a string of ‘boyfriends’ and decided that she would wait until after she received her doctorate to settle down.

Their biggest similarities were their looks. Each of them had long dark hair, though Ali’s was a shade lighter than Nicole and Natalia’s, and stood at a little over five feet. Nicole and Natalia stayed out of the sun, both of them burned quite easily and went red instead of tanning, while Ali remained a beautiful olive all year round. Nicole and Ali were both curvier, each with natural assets that Natalia longed for, while Natalia fell somewhere in an annoying gap between petite and average. 

Natalia loved the differences in her friends, she appreciated seeing the way they all complemented one another, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the almost predictable reactions she’d gotten from both of them upon learning that she had a date.

“He’s gorgeous,” she finally answered, grinning at Ali when she nodded in appreciation and gave her a thumbs up.

“That’s my girl! Have you got condoms? You can stop by my place and grab some after colloquium if you want. Oh, do you need help getting ready? I can do your makeup!” Ali looked to be almost more excited than Natalia was about the date. She was giddy, grinning at the possibilities, and Natalia hated to rain on her parade but she didn’t plan on sleeping with Luke on their first date.

“I appreciate the offer, Al, but I don’t think I’ll need the condoms just yet. I would love for you to do my makeup, though. We’re going to Oak and I know it’s kind of dark in there but it’s also a little nicer than the dives we go to so I should make an effort,” she reasoned as she watched the door swing open and a few of their classmates enter the room. She waved at them, as did Nicole and Ali, before she added, “We can talk about it after colloquium.”

Throughout the hour long meeting, Natalia’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Luke texted her, a photo of himself and his dog that made her heart melt, and joked that he had the best help in getting ready for their night. Nicole and Ali filled their group chat - appropriately titled ‘why are we here?’ - with suggestions for conversation topics (although Natalia sincerely hoped ‘do you have any hot, single friends?’ was a joke) as well as gentle teasing about how their baby was growing up.

Natalia took it all in stride, shaking her head at Nicole and Ali’s teasing and gushing over Luke’s dog, but she felt just as excited as they all seemed to. It was nice, having plans and feeling something she hadn’t felt in a long while, and she only grew more excited as colloquium ended and they all began to file out of the conference room.

“Send me a text when you guys choose where you’re going for drinks,” she told Nicole as the three of them stepped out of the building, her and Ali heading toward her car while Nicole was off to her own, “I might stop by and get a drink after my date.”

“If you do, let me know. I want all the details. If not, we can all get breakfast or something and you can tell us everything.” Ali wasn’t the type to turn down a drink or gossip so it came as no surprise that she wanted to be included in the conversation.

“Have fun, Nat,” Nicole bid, a genuinely happy smile on her face as she began walking down the sidewalk. “See you later!”

Natalia and Ali waved off Nicole before they began the trek to Natalia’s car. She and Luke planned to meet at eight and it was already four. She knew that she had time - she would likely only show up a few minutes early - but she was anxious to get ready. She had no idea what she wanted to wear, how she wanted her makeup done, or how to wear her hair. She hadn’t been on a date in years - she’d been too busy worrying about school to worry about much else - so this was new territory for her.

Natalia was glad that Ali was there to help her get ready. She was glad that she had a friend who was willing to pick through her closet and help her find something that was cute enough to make a good impression but comfortable enough to wear for a few hours. She was nervous, a good kind of anxious that filled her stomach with butterflies and had her pacing her bedroom as Ali pulled the final piece of clothing from her closet.

“It’s going to be fine,” Ali laughed as she watched Natalia glance in the mirror at her makeup once more. She’d gone simple, opted for a natural look that only enhanced Natalia’s looks, and reached out to slap her shoulder to keep her from touching her eyebrow. “You’re going to wipe off my hard work. Here, get dressed. Would you mind dropping me off at my place on your way?”

“No, of course not,” Natalia assured her as she grabbed the garments from Ali’s hand and stepped into her bathroom to change. “It’s on my way. That’ll keep me from being too early, too.”

“I was at least a little strategic in getting you ready,” Ali pointed out as she waited for Natalia to exit the bathroom. “Have you warned him that you’re a chronic overachiever who can’t be late and has, like, forty calendars to make sure you don’t miss any deadlines yet?”

“I only have three,” Natalia defended as she emerged from the bathroom, smoothing the top she wore. “I keep them in different places so I always know what I need to be doing. How does this look?”

Ali brought her hand to her chest and faked a sniffle as she caught sight of Natalia. She had gone for simple here, too, and pulled a high-waisted black, button down mini-skirt, a white short sleeve top, and a distressed denim jacket. She handed her a necklace, one of the few pieces of jewelry Natalia owned, as well as a bracelet before she glanced at the two options for shoes she’d pulled out of the closet.

“How tall is he?” Ali asked as she looked between the pair of ankle boots and flats on the floor in front of her.

“Uh, very.” Natalia tried not to sound too excited at that - she’d always been fond of taller men - and Ali nodded in appreciation.

“Boots it is, then. Okay, I think you’re ready. Do you have any pictures of this guy? I’m curious as fuck now,” Ali hummed as she watched Natalia slip her feet into the boots.

“Mm, yeah, he sent me a picture of him and his dog earlier.” She reached for her cellphone, unplugging it from the charger, and opened her text thread with Luke to show Ali the photo he’d sent her. He had the same unique smile he’d shown her the day they met and his clear blue eyes were on display as he’d pulled his hair away from his face. He was cute, far cuter than anyone she’d ever dated, and she felt a small amount of pride at the impressed look on Ali’s face.

“He looks familiar,” she mumbled, after agreeing that he was gorgeous, “I don’t know where I’d know him from, though.”

“Maybe you saw him on Tinder or something,” Natalia offered with a shrug as she locked her phone and dropped it into her bag. “Or maybe he’s friends with one of your boyfriends.”

“Maybe,” Ali shrugged as she grabbed her bag and led the way out of Natalia’s apartment. “I don’t even keep track anymore. Did I tell you about Jason? I would drop out and become a trophy wife for that man any day.”

Natalia listened to Ali share a story about her latest boyfriend - one she agreed was gorgeous and seemed sweeter and a little more put together than the guys Ali usually went for - as she drove her back to her apartment. She realized, as they waited at a red light, that she would get to join the conversation about dates the next time they interacted and felt a small thrill at the idea. She usually had very little to contribute when Ali and Nicole spoke about their partners - other than the occasional, “I’m glad I’m single,” when they discussed the follies of man - and couldn’t wait to tell them all about her date.

As Natalia pulled into the parking lot of Ali’s apartment complex, Ali reached into her bag and pulled a few foil squares from one of the pockets. She took Natalia’s hand off the steering wheel as soon as she’d put the car in park and placed the condoms in her hand before she patted it and grinned. “You never know what you’ll need, so, just in case.”

With that and a grin that made Natalia roll her eyes, Ali climbed out of the car and sent a wave in her direction before bounding up the stairs. Natalia remained in the parking spot for a second, pausing to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath, before she shoved the condoms into her bag, pulled out of the parking lot and made her way to Oak.

When Luke asked if she had any preferences for their date, her first thought was of Oak. It was a bar that couldn’t be considered a dive but was also a far cry from the swanky clubs in other parts of the city. It was nice but not too nice. Like Molly’s, the bar was Instagrammable - a key factor in its popularity with college students as the drinks were a little pricier than two dollar beer but not unreasonable for an every now and again sort of thing - and encouraged patrons to dress a little nicer than the go-to athleisure look. Everything about it read 1920s speakeasy, except the patio. Natalia loved the patio, hidden off to the side with little wooden benches and cool metal tables surrounded by walls covered in ivy, and she was glad the weather was nice enough that she could request they sit out there.

The interior was always a little dark but Natalia thought it was kind of romantic as the lighting was supplemented by tea candles on the tables. However, the music - an array of jazz - was usually a little too loud for conversation. Because of that, she hoped that Luke wouldn’t mind if they ordered their drinks and took them outside so they could talk.

When Natalia arrived (only five minutes early, a rare feat for her as she usually arrived with twenty minutes to spare), she was pleasantly surprised to see Luke waiting for her near the front steps. Although she’d found him attractive upon first meeting him, dressed in basketball shorts and looking like he’d just woken up, he looked even better dressed up.

He had also opted for simple and wore plain black jeans and a wine red button down. He left the first few buttons undone and Natalia imagined that if she were a cartoon character, her eyes would be hearts by now. She wanted to stare at him for a moment longer but she didn’t want to keep him waiting. She took another moment, another deep breath, before she climbed out of the car and crossed the parking lot to join him.

“Hi.”

Luke lifted his head, turning his attention away from his cellphone, and grinned at the sight of Natalia. He quickly locked the device and shoved it into his pocket as he returned her greeting. “Hi.” He paused, his eyes raking over her body and taking in the sight of her, before he added, “You look beautiful.”

Without thinking, with only a giddy nervousness filling her mind, Natalia grinned and returned, “So do you.”

She and Luke stood there, taking one another in with pink cheeks and silly smiles, for far too long. It wasn’t awkward, the silence was appreciative and punctuated by shy grins and quiet giggles, and Natalia would have been content to spend the evening sharing heart-eyed looks with Luke had another couple not walked by, breaking the spell.

“Do you want to head in?” Luke asked, glancing at the door a few feet to his left before returning his gaze to Natalia. “I’ve never been here before.”

Natalia glanced up at him - the height difference was still noticeable, even with her heeled boots - and smiled as they entered the main room. “It’s nice. I’ve been here a few times but, I’ll be honest, I usually go to this place called The Door.”

“The Door? Why here, then, and not there?” Luke asked as they approached the bar and and each reached for a drink menu.

“I didn’t want to run into every professor in my department.” When Luke raised an eyebrow at that, Natalia shook her head and quickly added, “Everyone in the department goes there for drinks and I didn’t think it would fun to have my advisor a few tables over as we tried to talk. I chose this place because I don’t really venture too far from campus. LA is… overwhelming.”

“That’s fair,” Luke acknowledged as they waited for the bartender to make his way to them. He turned to look at Natalia, an easy smile on his lips and blue eyes alight with intrigue, as he asked, “You’re not from here?”

“Is anyone?” Luke laughed at Natalia’s quip and she offered him a smile in return. “No, I grew up in Oakland. It was a different vibe. What about you? You’re not from LA.”

“I’m not,” he confirmed with a shake of his head as he moved to stand a little closer to her to let another couple access the bar, “I’m from Australia. I’ve been here for a really long time, though.”

Natalia could smell Luke’s cologne and bit back a sigh as he met her eyes once again. It was hard to keep her train of thought with him looking directly at her, the longer she stared at him, the more beautiful she found him, but she managed to ask, “Yeah? What brought you to LA?”

As Luke opened his mouth to answer, the bartender approached the pair of them to take their drink orders. Luke gestured for her to order first and she chose the only thing on the menu with vodka - the only liquor she didn’t really hate - while Luke opted for the drink with rum. They started a tab - on Luke’s card, despite Natalia’s resistance - before she gestured for him to follow her to the patio with their drinks.

“Okay, so, what brought you to LA?” Natalia repeated as they each took a seat at one of the small metal tables The lighting was better outside, a little brighter than the candlelit interior, and she had to remind herself not to stare as she waited for Luke’s answer.

“I’m in a band. We came out here to follow our dreams.” Natalia wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that Luke was a musician. He looked the part, with shaggy blonde curls and chipped nail polish on a few fingers as well as a sort of confidence about him that she’d only seen in the wannabe rockstars she knew from home, so she nodded.

“Would I know your music?”

Luke smiled at her, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, and shrugged. The look on his face suggested there was a joke that Natalia wasn’t in on and she scrunched her eyebrows in mild confusion as he asked, “I don’t know. What kind of music do you listen to?”

“A little punk - I’m from Oakland, we have a killer punk scene,” she defended when Luke blinked in surprise. He held his hands up in surrender,  a laugh falling from his lips, and gestured for her to continue. “Um, a lot of stuff that was released before I was born? My dad was in a punk band in high school and a grunge band in college and my mom was a riot grrrl. I grew up listening to whatever they were listening to and whatever their bands played and it’s still pretty prominent in my playlists. So, punk and grunge and a lot of classic rock.”

Luke looked mildly impressed by Natalia’s taste and nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, you probably wouldn’t know any of our stuff.” Luke laughed, again looking like he knew something she didn’t, before he took a sip of his drink. She shrugged, a playful smile of her own on her lips, and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t have expected that but that’s way cooler than me. I listen to a lot of pop punk, a little more alternative. And classic rock.”

“Nothing wrong with pop punk. I love blink. And I was super into All Time Low in high school.”

The conversation hit a short lull, both Luke and Natalia glancing at one another over the tops of their drinks, but it wasn’t truly awkward. They had yet to figure out how to interact with one another, which was to be expected, so Natalia offered a suggestion to break the ice. “Want to play twenty questions?”

Luke perked up, the full toothed grin returning, and nodded as he leaned on his elbows and met her gaze across the table. “That sounds like the perfect idea. You want to start?”

Natalia nodded and scrutinized Luke as she thought up her first question.  She knew that he was from Australia and that he was in a band she probably hadn’t heard of. She knew that he had a dog and that he liked pop punk. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Two brothers, Ben and Jack. You’re in school, what are you studying?” Luke had an adorable habit of tilting his head to show his engagement in the conversation and Natalia bit back a dreamy sigh as she watched him tap his glass to the beat of the song - the patio had a stream of top 40 hits playing and she didn’t recognize any of them but, judging by the way his eyes lit up when this one came on, he did.

“Health communication. Basically, my line of research is that everyone defines health differently and you can’t expect all people to react the same way to the same messages. There is no universal definition of health.” Again, Luke looked surprised and impressed. He nodded, thankful that she’d given a bit of clarification on what she meant by health communication, and waited for her to ask her question. “What’s the best thing about being in a band?”

Luke lit up at her question, his smile growing into the tongue-pressed-to-teeth grin she was growing to adore. “Is it a cop out if I say everything?” When she nodded, Luke made a show of groaning and pouted for a moment before laughing and shaking his head. “This is going to sound really cheesy but being able to spend my time with my best friends. I love the guys, they’re my brothers at this point, and getting to work with them is all I ever could’ve asked for.”

Natalia felt her heart melt at Luke’s answer. She cooed and when Luke’s cheeks went pink, she reassured him, “That’s the sweetest answer you could’ve given. That’s really awesome. I barely know you but I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Luke laughed, cheeks still flushed and eyes crinkling as he watched Natalia take another sip of her drink. “What are your friends like?” He was curious, as they were on the subject, and he wanted to know if the people Natalia surrounded herself with were as interesting as she was.

“Strange. I have my cohort, the two girls I started my master’s program with, and then I have a few friends from home but it’s a pretty small group of very different people and I don’t know where I would be without them.” It was Luke’s turn to coo, his smile soft and his cheeks still pink from a combination of the heat, the alcohol, and his affection, and Natalia dipped her head to get away from his gaze. “In your band, what’s your job? Guitarist, vocalist…?”

“Both of those, actually. I play guitar and sing. Ash, the guy that was with me in the coffee shop, is our drummer.”

“You know, I could’ve guessed that. You’ve got the lead singer look,” Natalia teased. She grinned at Luke’s raised eyebrows and shrugged. “I think it’s the hair, rockstar. But it looks good on you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, a playful gesture accompanied by laughter, and stuck his chin out indignantly. “Looks can be deceiving,” he reminded her, a playful glare on his face as he added, “You keep surprising me at every turn.” When she titled her head, curious as to what he meant, Luke smiled and gestured to Natalia’s empty glass. “That’s a good thing, I promise. And this isn’t my question,” he clarified, a playfully pointed look accompanying his statement, "but would you like another drink?”

“I’d love one. Using that time to think up another question?” Her accusation was playful, her grin gave her away, but Luke played along but giving her a pout.

“How can you think so little of me? I’m not,” Luke denied, his grin bright as he stood to grab another round of drinks. “But I’ll give you that time to think about your answer. Thoughts on social media? I’ll be back.”

Natalia watched Luke disappear through the side door, a bright grin on her lips. Luke was cute, sweet, and fun. The conversation was flowing better than she imagined it would.  She was glad that the hope she’d gleaned from her text conversations with him wasn’t misplaced and found herself itching to continue the conversation as she listened to a song she vaguely recognized as one of Dua Lipa’s filter through the patio area.

True to his word, Luke returned in a matter of minutes with fresh drinks in hand and an expectant look on his face. “So, thoughts?”

“I think it’s a useful tool in some cases and utterly useless and damaging in others. It’s helpful in emergencies, getting the word out quickly, but it’s creating a weird culture and I don’t like it. I don’t have any social media profiles aside from Facebook - my mom likes to video chat and doesn’t have an iPhone so, no FaceTime, I just use it for Messenger - and LinkedIn.” Natalia was used to the looks she got from others when she divulged her lack of social media and Luke was no different. He looked shocked but almost impressed.

“That’s really awesome. I don’t use mine much but I think it’d feel weird if I didn’t have them.”

“I mean, you’re a musician. It probably helps get the word out there, build a fanbase, all the marketing stuff. I’m an academic. The only thing I could post on Instagram is a bad selfie taken under florescent library lighting,” Natalia joked as she reached for her drink.

“No faking your life for the ‘Gram?” Luke asked, genuinely curious and interested in hearing her take on social media. It wasn’t often that he ran into people like her, not in his life, so he felt compelled to hear more.

“No, it doesn’t seem worth it. It seems like too much work and, honestly, I don’t want the attention. You have these kids that are, like, twelve blowing up online and that just seems so stressful. I don’t want the world watching my every move. I’m fine in the shadows.”

An odd look crossed Luke’s face at Natalia’s reluctance to be seen and she almost asked him about it. She didn’t understand what the issue was with her not wanting notoriety or her face to be plastered all over Instagram but the look was gone so quickly that she felt like she must have imagined it. So, instead of dwelling, she turned to her next question. “If you were stuck on an island, what three things would you bring with you?”

The conversation continued well past twenty questions. Luke was genuinely interested in her research, asking questions about her reasons for choosing such an emotionally taxing topic and what she planned to do with her research when she finished, and it was nice to just explain rather than defend her choices. She was interested in his music, curious about the songwriting process and the way he dealt with writer’s block from a creative standpoint, and it was nice to talk to someone who had no idea what his life was really like.

They found themselves talking until one of the staff members stuck their head out the door and informed them that it was last call. They’d each only had two drinks, the last was sipped over a matter of hours as they’d been talking too much to really pay attention to anything other than one another, and Natalia was slightly disappointed that it was time to say goodnight as they headed in to close out the tab.

Luke, like Natalia, dragged his feet as they left the bar and lingered near the front steps. He looked just as crestfallen as she did, not ready for their night to be over but not wanting to give her the wrong impression by asking her to come home with him. They liked one another, really and truly, and neither wanted to rush into things. It felt nice, just getting to know one another without the pressure of their lives closing in on them, and they wanted to keep it that way for as long as they could.

“I know this might be too soon,” Luke began, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he met Natalia’s gaze with a shy smile, “but would you want to go out again tomorrow? Maybe for dinner? I have rehearsal tomorrow afternoon but we could do something after that.”

Natalia grinned, a giddy smile that was contagious as Luke matched her grin with one of his own, and nodded. “Definitely. I need to spend the day writing but I’m totally free tomorrow night,” she agreed readily, not caring if she looked eager as Luke looked just as giddy as she did.

“Good, awesome. I, uh, I’ll let you know what time we’re supposed to finish tomorrow.” Luke paused, his grin softening as he realized that Natalia looked gorgeous even in the harsh glow of unflattering streetlights, before he added, “I had a really good time tonight. I’m still sorry for spilling coffee on you but I don’t regret it. Not if it gets me a date like this.”

“I really liked that dress,” Natalia teased, her cheeks flaring pink beneath the foundation she wore as she tried not to coo at Luke’s compliment, “but I’m kind of glad you spilled coffee on me. I think this date more than made up for it.”

Luke and Natalia stared at one another, grinning like lovesick fools and happy that the date had gone better than either of them hoped, before Luke stepped a little closer and asked, “Do you mind if I… can I…?”

Natalia didn’t have a rule against kissing on the first date, she didn’t have any first date rules as she decided she would just see where life took her, but if she did, she would’ve broken it for Luke. As his hand brushed her cheek, she melted into his embrace and breathed a quiet sigh as she nodded just enough for him to feel.

Luke placed a barely there peck to her lips, a soft kiss that felt more like something being taken from her than given, and she wanted to reach out and pull him back into her as he straightened up and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Natalia.”

“See you tomorrow.”

They both lingered for a second, staring at one another, before Natalia gave him a final shy smile and turned to head to her car. Her head was so far in the clouds that she didn’t notice the small dip in the ground and felt her knees hit pavement before she realized what had happened.

She wasn’t sure if she was glad that Luke was there or embarrassed he’d seen her fall as he rushed over and kneeled beside her. The contents of her bag had spilled across the parking lot and she dropped her head in embarrassment as she groaned. “Fun fact about me, I’m great at destroying the mood.”

“I tripped and dumped coffee on you during our first meeting, a little clumsiness isn’t going to destroy anything. Here, let me help you,” he assured her as he began reaching for the little things that had fallen out of her bag. Chapstick, hand sanitizer, gum, a pencil bag; all things she didn’t mind Luke seeing. However, when he grabbed the few condoms Ali left her with, Natalia groaned again.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t intend for anything to happen. My friend Ali just… threw them at me,” she explained as she shoved the items back into her bag and took Luke’s hand for him to help her back onto her feet. “Not that there’s anything wrong with sex on a first date, do whatever you want, I just… Don’t want?”

Luke bit back a laugh at Natalia’s defeated expression and shook his head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. Better to be safe than sorry. And, I get it. Tonight was nice. I enjoyed it as it was. And I’m still really looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow night.”

“I’m glad. And I am looking forward to seeing you again, too. Hopefully neither of us will trip and we’ll be leaving injury and coffee stain free,” she joked as she brushed some stray gravel from her knees. “I’ll see you then. Have fun at rehearsal.”

“I would say have fun writing but, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know if that’s appropriate to wish you?”

“Probably not, no one enjoys writing for academia, but I appreciate the thought. Bye, Luke.”

Luke waved Natalia off and waited until she’d gotten safely into her car before heading for his own. She still felt a little embarrassed - she knew that her cheeks were neon red beneath her foundation - but his handling of the situation made her feel that much better about him. He was a good guy, solid and sweet, and Natalia couldn’t wait to see him again.

___________________________________________________________

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @old-zeppelin-shirt , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​

[nine-mp3]

Your Neighbor Sungho | Ch. 1

Photo Credits:

- left hand corner, @116page

- center, @newat_rie

Rie (sungho) x (female) reader, fluff, slice of life, semi-angsty (?)

appearances of other OnlyOneOf and Dreamcatcher members will occur

hey so I rolled a wheel on who to write a fanfic first and got rie plus picked out a prompt to write from

warnings: alcohol, getting drunk; in this fic is PG-13, some light cursing occasionally, super tiny mention of smut in description beginning and that’s all;

btw i’m pretty sarcastic, there’s sarcasm thrown here and there, hope you enjoy :D

This is my first time sharing my writing on a public platform. As a writer, I always appreciate constructive criticism. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments if you have anything to say. Thank you in advance for reading as well

Also, please DO NOT repost my work anywhere without my permission or plagiarize.

Description: your neighbor, sungho, from the day you've moved in has kept you up countless nights with their significant other. dancing, muffled long conversations, and amongst other noises you wished you could wipe from memory. one day it suddenly stops. those days become months.

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Your neighbor, Sungho, from the day you've moved in has kept you up countless nights with their significant other. Dancing, muffled long conversations, and amongst other noises you wished you could wipe from memory. One day it suddenly stops. These days become months. Now, you couldn't help but to be concerned.

Sungho isn't a bad neighbor. You recall complaining to him at some point, amidst trying to focus on a report you had to write up for work, and he apologized for the noise. Many times. He seemed embarrassed, never realizing how thin the walls were in the apartment building, and promised to keep the noise levels down. These promises would last only about a week. Their significant other was quite the complete opposite of Sungho, a loud individual. From what you were aware, the two didn't live together. His significant other would come over daily to stay or visit.

As much as they were loud, they didn't seem to like you either. Looks of disdain thrown whenever you happen to cross them in the hallway, being in the same elevator cart, or when Sungho was trying to be a good neighbor by greeting you. They would pull him away immediately, putting his attention back on them. Sometimes you thought that they were being loud on purpose, knowing that you were next door, and very well aware of the complaints. The reason why? You had no idea. The best guess you could come up with was that they saw you as a threat to their relationship. Which was ridiculous. You hardly knew the male nor could the both of you call each other friends.

Sometimes Sungho left fruits or drinks at your door with little notes of apologies for their rowdiness. And for their significant other's behavior. For the most part, you bared through it or simply did all your work within the hours at your office now and prayed that tiredness would consume you once you hit your bed, blocking out any disturbances.

So, life goes on.

One weekend, you just happened to get home from going out with your friends. It was late, past midnight. You heard arguing through the walls between Sungho and their significant other.

"You're always like this, Sungho!"

Immediately, you felt very uncomfortable entering your apartment. It wasn't something you wanted to hear or should be hearing. Not that you could help it either since you lived next door. You backed yourself outside, considering going to the balcony on the floor for a bit. Stepping back outside of your door, their argument becomes muffled.

Why couldn't the landlord just keep the damn wall consistency the same?

Suddenly, Sungho's door flies open followed by their significant other storming out. You jump up out of surprise, the noise scaring you. They're heading down the hallway, to the elevators, without looking back. Sungho appears at his door not too long after, holding it open.

"Wait-" he calls out to them, his voice faltering.

The male notices you then, staring with wide eyes at him. At that moment, you were able to get a full picture of his current position. The hurt in his eyes.

"Oh...y/n. Are you here to complain about the noise again? I'm really sorry-"

"Uh, no! No, not at all. See, I just was returning home now. Don't worry about it," you said, awkwardly blinking a few times, reaching to grab for your keys from your bag once again.

"Um, I'm heading inside now! Okay, bye!"

You immediately opened your door again, rushing, running into your living room. The door shuts behind automatically and you let out a sigh of relief. You felt bad for suddenly running away, but you weren't about to ask or give relationship advice if Sungho wasn't asking for it. Besides, what if it was only a lover's quarrel?

They'll probably make up soon. Talk about a rough night…

Then the realization set in. The apartment would be definitely quiet for at least another day. A smile rises to your face.

What a horrible thing to be happy over...after seeing your neighbor fight with their significant other. Then again, they weren't all that nice to me.

You shrugged, waving the events aside, calling it a night, enjoying the peaceful silence...only with the slight remaining, lingering tension in the air. After you showered, brushed your teeth, and changed into pajamas, you immediately laid down on your bed. Pulling the covers over, you found yourself thinking. Staring up to the ceiling of your room in the dark.

That argument sounded bad though...ugh. None of your business, y/n. Go to sleep. They'll probably be fine tomorrow…

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Define the term "fine".

The next day, as you predicted, was quiet. That you could hear a pin drop from down the hallway. You enjoyed it, a Sunday afternoon peace. It allowed you to catch up on work, eat, watch T.V, write poetry...overall without any disturbances. Sungho, your neighbor, was long forgotten from your mind.

The thing is, it goes on for the next week. You weren't worried about it at all because you were swamped with work. The next reports and presentations came with close deadlines. The silence was appreciated, allowing you to focus; you got lost in piles of work and many cups of coffee.

Worry about your neighbor only returned on the brief encounters when the both of you were heading to work in the mornings. Sungho still greeted you, but only with a brief nod and face expressionless. They would walk ahead first, not bothering to see even if you returned the greeting or not. Sometimes you heard him leaving earlier than you and now you couldn't help but to wonder what his occupation was.

The week turns into two and three. He stops greeting you at some point, or maybe he wasn't very aware of his surroundings; his whole aura was different. Sungho usually would at least do his hair before going out and dress somewhat decently. Now it was always a mess, his bangs left down to cover his eyes, matching with black attire. You saw him up close in his current condition when you were returning to the apartment building one afternoon. The male had collided into you, by accident. Turning around immediately on the impact, once you had regained your balance, you're faced with eyes that were written with sleepless nights, dark circles prominent. At least, this time, he mumbles an apology before moving on.

By the time it reaches the end of the month, your workload becomes lighter for the year, you find more time thinking about the current situation of your neighbor. You called up one of your best friends at your workplace one night. It wasn't the first time you discussed your neighbor with them.

"Yoojung, it's the end of the month. I haven't seen his significant other in awhile. As much as I enjoy the silence, I hate seeing Sungho this dead," you said, a hand gripping onto the balcony railing out of nervousness.

“Note check. You don’t even know the guy. Why exactly are you so worried?” Yoojung on the other end replies.

Your friend had a point. Why were you worried?

“Well…I don’t have an answer, actually. I don’t know why I’m worried. Can’t I just be a good neighbor?” you replied.

“It’s none of your business, y/n. Looking at reality. But if you’re so worried, go knock on his door and talk to him. Even if it’s just a hello. Didn’t he leave you fruits before? You can do that in return if you’re so curious,” Yoojung suggested, not sounding all that interested.

“Anyways, you’re coming to the group outing for dinner next week right? On Saturday? Please tell me you didn’t forget or you plan on cancelling. We hardly ever get a chance for everyone to come together again.”

“Alright, thanks so much for the advice...I guess...and keep your pants on, Yoojung. Of course I’m coming. Good night,” you scowled at him.

You hung up the phone then, not giving a chance for the other to say his goodbye. As much as he was your best friend, he could be a pain in the ass. Turning around, you exited out the balcony to return back to your apartment for the day.

So much for calling it a night.

Once you make it back, you’re greeted with Sungho at your door, hunched over, using an arm to keep his weight up against the wall. First thought that came to mind: he’s unwell and he came to ask you for help? You immediately approach the male, only to be hit by a smell of alcohol and you jolt back. The second thought you had, only confirmed: he’s drunk.

“Sungho?! Are you okay?” you asked nervously, tapping his shoulder lightly.

The male looks up to you, quite confused.

“y/n? Oh. Yeah...I’m fine. Just trying to get into my apartment...but the key.... doesn’t seem to fit…” Sungho said, words spoken slowly as he tries to stand upright.

“Did...the landlord change the locks?”

“No, no. The landlord didn’t. You’re at the wrong apartment, this one is mine. Uh, do you need help?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah...well, that makes...sense now,” Sungho said, a drunk written smile appearing on his face.

“No, it’s okay...I’m always disturbing you... I’m really sorry...Have...a good night, y/n.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in such a long time. Of course, it only happens to be when he’s not sober. Also, you’re very aware that drunk people do need help but always deny it. You watch as he turns around, folding your arms and counting down in your head.

3... 2...1

The male collapses on the ground, completely knocked out from the alcohol in his system. You blew up at your hair, huffing then, staring down at his figure on the ground.

This night just got a whole lot longer.

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[eldri-sv]

26 - Aizawa

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people’s minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa’s TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country…

Deep down we both knew it was trouble by design

(Cage The Elephant - Too Late To Say Goodbye)

Shouta Aizawa gave Tsukauchi a long hard look. He really couldn't believe this man sometimes. Sure, he was doing his job well and all, but he just kept having terrible ideas, like waking him up in the middle of the night with a phone call, just so he could head out to a crime scene and have a look at it, when he could just gather the same information from a well-made report. (Sometimes Aizawa suspected he didn't trust people with writing good reports, but that was a story for another day.) Or that thing he just suggested about Kaori Shinsou.

"Are you being serious right now?" Aizawa asked him, pretty sure that he was trying to play some sort of prank on him.

"Of course! I've seen her work on two different cases now and she has been brilliant. Would be a shame to let her waste away at the Hosu City department. Or have her go back to Tartarus next term." Tsukauchi replied. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Look, I get it. She's really good at this and by all means, she should get to work in a higher ranking job. But Tsukauchi, have you looked at her? That girl has been doing night shift after night shift in Hosu, then she goes to university and then straight back to work. I've seen her asleep in the damn library, Tsukauchi! She needs a fucking break." he explained. Tsukauchi nodded quickly.

"Of course, of course, I'm not saying she should come here and intern with us right away. I'll have to look at a ton of paperwork for that anyway, and obviously she'd have to agree to it. We'd give her some time off, especially during exams. But she'd be able to work on high profile cases, instead of some teenagers burning stuff in trash cans. Think about it." Tsukauchi said.

Of course he was right. He had a very valid point. It would be a shame to waste Shinsou's talent when it came to criminal psychology with her staying in the Hosu City department. She would have much more room to grow if she was interning with and working for the National Police Department.

But Shinsou already had no idea what a healthy work-life balance meant. Aizawa knew she didn't, because he was the same. And while he loved his job as a teacher and part-time criminal psychologist for the National Police Department, he also knew that it sucked getting that little sleep and being under the kind of high pressure that these kinds of cases brought with them.

"I mean, in the end it will be her decision. But I don't think it's a good idea. She's overworking herself as it is. There were several times during the last few weeks when she just collapsed from exhaustion. This already isn't healthy for her. Now imagine Shinsou getting to work for a much bigger organization - she'd work herself to death because she felt she had to." Aizawa replied.

"Sounds like someone I know." Tsukauchi told him with a smile.

"Exactly. And that's why I know she'd get much more stressed than she already is. I know I am stressing myself more than is good for me."

"Well, have you considered that the two of you would be working together? Which means you would both technically have a smaller workload and that benefits both you and her. Plus, that way you can still have an eye on her and make sure she gets some time off, if that's so important to you." Tsukauchi said.

Aizawa had to admit he hadn't thought about that. It could possibly even convince him. But there was no way he'd admit that to Tsukauchi. Thinking about it, he quite liked the idea of being able to work with Shinsou. After all, he had been itching to show her some of the confidential files on the Stain case, just to be able to get her perspective. Aizawa didn't like working closely with people, but he could imagine working with Kaori Shinsou. He sighed. Tsukauchi had already won.

"Well, go and suggest it to her. I still don't think it's the best idea, but in the end it is her decision. And I agree, it would be nice to get her somewhere higher up than the Hosu Department." Aizawa finally said. Tsukauchi gave him a knowing smile and got up from his chair in the school cafeteria.

"Sounds good to me, then. I'll get the paperwork in order and then I can hopefully see her about it sometime next week. I'd like to get her on for interviewing Stain by any means." Tsukauchi replied.

"That would be a good idea, she's been following that case since forever. She's obsessed with it. Anyway, get your paperwork done and then see if she wants to do it or not." Aizawa mumbled.

He still didn't quite feel alright with that decision, but there was nothing he could do either way. Tsukauchi had come to him to test the waters and see what he had to say about her academic abilities. And those were as good as they could possibly be. He had nothing bad to say about Shinsou.

"Oh yeah, before I leave. The two of you might want to be a little more discreet with... whatever it is that's going on between you." Tsukauchi said and winked at him. Aizawa gave him a confused look.

"What?" he asked, not expecting to hear anything like that. Of course he had heard of the stupid rumours, but he had never paid them much mind. To him they were just that - stupid rumours.

"I don't know if there is anything going on between you and Shinsou, but there are rumours. And it is quite obvious that you are... fond of her." Tsukauchi replied. Aizawa was completely dumbfounded by this. He had never expected anyone to bring this up to his actual face. Yes, he was fond of Shinsou. He liked her, there was no point denying it. And there was also no point denying that she was an attractive young woman. But there was absolutely nothing going on.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but there is really nothing going on..." Aizawa started, but Tsukauchi interrupted him.

"Look, I really don't care. I'm just saying this as a friend. People get certain impressions, that's all I'm saying."

And with that Tsukauchi left. Aizawa had no idea how to react to any of that. He had always thought that all those rumours were somewhat ridiculous. There was absolutely no substance to this. But now Tsukauchi had him second-guessing himself. What if there was anything inappropriate between them?

It wasn't like anything they'd do would be illegal, but it would surely be against school policy if they were having an affair of any sort. Especially as long as Shinsou was in his course. An image got conjured up in his mind of Kaori Shinsou in one of her short skirts and her knee socks on, sitting on the heavy oak desk in his office, leaning back, legs spread wide, looking at him with those lascivious eyes and...

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Aizawa was trying to tell himself that it was only because of what Tsukauchi had insinuated that he had just been thinking about that, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he definitely had a thing for Shinsou - he had just been suppressing it, because... well, because he was her professor and she was his student.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. How the hell did he not notice how far he let all this get? Those little mind games where he intentionally wouldn't call on her for ages during class, just to see her essentially fighting for his attention, the way she'd almost grow in her seat every time he gave her any sort of praise - hell, him taking her on as a teacher's assistant.

None of that was helping in any way. Maybe he just had to find a way to at least publicly distance himself from her. Try not asking her to stay after class so many goddamn times. That would be a start. Aizawa sighed and took a sip from his half-empty cup of coffee. It had gotten cold. Of course.

"Morning, prof!" he heard a cheerful voice say behind him. Speaking of the devil. He turned in his chair and saw Kaori Shinsou standing there, a lunch tray in her hands, obviously on the way over to her friends.

"What do you want, Shinsou?" he asked, feeling a headache coming on. He was in no mood to deal with this right now.

"Just happened to pass by on my way. I saw Tsukauchi talk to you and you looked kind of shaken. Is everything okay?" she replied innocently. Good God, this was getting worse and worse. Aizawa gave her a glare.

"It's none of your concern." he said coldly, trying to implement the rules he had just set for himself. Shinsou looked like she was taken aback a little and then she just shrugged and gave him a smile.

"Okay." she replied and continued in her way. That smile literally broke Aizawa's heart. It wasn't easily noticeable, but it was absolutely a fake smile. He kept telling himself that all of this was for the best. He really wanted to keep his job and he didn't want to force Shinsou to transfer courses either.

He had no idea how he was supposed to work with her, if she decided to transfer from the Hosu department to the nationwide department. He tried to remember how he was treating the rest of his students, but somehow it didn't seem to translate in any way to Shinsou. She was smart, dedicated and... really fucking hot.

There. He said it. He thought his student was hot. And really, there was nothing wrong about it. She was 22, there were really only 8 years between them. The only thing that was a problem was U.A.'s policy on that. And that's why he had to cut the bullshit and stop being obvious about it.

Aizawa took a deep breath and took another sip from his coffee. With the shock of his new realization he had completely forgotten that it had become cold and disgusting. He grimaced, as he remembered. Only thirty minutes left until his Criminal Psychology class. With Kaori Shinsou in it. Fuck.

He was so used to talking to her about her assignments after class or to have a small chat in the classroom just before the course started. He was used to watching her write down immaculate notes, her sticking her pencil into her hair and forgetting about it for ages, her sitting up more and more when he wasn't calling on her on purpose. This whole thing would be harder than he thought.

With a sigh he got up to get rid of his coffee and hole himself up in the staff room. He didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, not after he had had this weird epiphany. His mind flashed the image of Shinsou's sad eyes at him reacting so coldly before him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck, this really would be hard.

[robogreaser]

This is a Long Time Coming...

It’s been a relatively hard task to sit down and make sense of, well, a lot of things as of late. I could chalk it up to the state of the world, but it’s been troublesome for significantly longer than that.

Long Story Short Version: I’ve been in a hell of a place, mentally, physically, and otherwise.

The proper story is a hell of a lot more involved than that and I know damned right well it’s going to take me a fair bit to explain myself and my various professional and social failings over the past... while. I’m gonna try to contain this under a read more, of course, but I apologize to mobile users if tumblr fucks that up.

Okay. That took a fair more bit of effort to figure out than I remember. Which, I suppose, is a fair enough bit of a segue into one thing that’s happened to me.

Tumblr has been deteriorating.

Whether I like to admit it or not, tumblr has been my go to social media platform since... 2011. Yeah. I’ve spent the vast majority of the decade here. I’ve seen a lot. Sure, I’ve lurked elsewhere, but I really cannot stand the interface and nature of a lot of other social media, especially the likes of twitter. Unfortunately for me, this place has been in constant decline for years now at this point. It extends well beyond the porn ban, but that’s a whole separate discussion.

I’ve lost touch with a lot of people I care about, some vanishing into the ether, some ghosting me, some just drifting into other communities or onto other sites. I’ve come to terms with the majority of this. It’s been happening for a while. It’s the very nature of digital relationships. It hurt, and I do think it’s contributed to a fair bit of stress and depression that has resulted in my... withdrawal from online spaces. It’s not a major factor, but its here, it’s present, it’s a factor in all of this.

I’ll be honest in that, well, I’ve tried to make this post several times over the past several weeks and months. It’s hard. Talking about my issues, using ‘I’ and ‘me’ so much in a post... it’s a bit jarring. But I’ll try to suck it up.

It’s been ten years (god I fucking hate time) since I’ve graduated high school. Yeah. It’s a fair thing to say that, on reflection, that’s incredibly jarring. The vast majority of that time has been... relatively unstable. I spent a fair few years working on my book and my publishing journey, now all but scrubbed clean from this blog (more on that later) and... well... Trying to be an adult. I’ve applied to, gotten accepted, and had to withdrawn from my dream school twice in this time. I’ve had a fair few jobs, nothing worthy of my resume, and lost all of them in one form or another, whether being fired for retaliating to my shitty work conditions, or, well, quitting for the sake of my own health during this pandemic. There has been a lot of family troubles. I’ve been through a lot of... ‘varied’ living situations, some horrendous, some just stressful, some, like now, actually really good compared to the others. And for the past few years in particular, it’s been constantly one thing after another, nonstop.

In short, progress is slow, but it’s happening. I don’t care to delve into a lot of these sorts of personal details lest this get to a ridiculous length, but that’s the short of the stuff I’d rather gloss over.

I’ve been on a health... Let’s call it a journey. I’ve been on a health journey. Over the past few years I’ve gone through the long processes of being diagnosed with ADHD, discussing my options regarding my depression and anxiety, and finally getting myself on a medication regimen that works. And then, because the health care system is a joke, I was without insurance. I had been off my medication, an absolute lifesaver and release of burden on my garbage tier brain, for eighteen months. Until last week. I think it’s fair to say, between my revolving door of living situations, employment, and then being un-medicated in a continually more stressful environment... That this is the main reason I’ve been absent. I’ve had no focus. There were weeks where I had no drive to do anything outside of routine that others depended on. I had not only gone back to how I was before situating my mental health, but in some ways, found a worse state.

Finances have been slowly eating away at me. I had been working a part time retail job until November, which made decent enough money, but not nearly for the amount of work and responsibility I was handling. I got fired. I found work with one of the big, corporate postal services. The pay was phenomenal, but it began to actively destroy my health, mainly physically, but also mentally, especially considering I was working a graveyard shift. Eventually when I began having prolonged health issues there, and then a whole lot of the symptoms of covid-19, on top of them turning me down for an entry-level position outside of the package handling, I had to quit. This was shortly after the lockdowns, in early April, and I refuse to look back despite people like my parents insisting on me trying to get work there again. Sure, the pay was phenomenal compared to anything else I had until then, but I cant continue to sacrifice my health. As of now, I’m unemployed, and... well...

I’m working on my commission queue. It’s art. It’s stuff I’ve owed friends (luckily those who are incredibly understanding and good to me) for an embarrassing amount of time, even before moving to and from Oklahoma at the end of 2016. I’m terrified of being the person who is known for taking commissioners’ money and running.

I know, I’m not good at giving updates. I’m not good at a consistent work schedule. I’ve had numerous tech failings over the past few years that constantly slow my roll on any progress I have made. Hell, I’ve had files corrupt despite being two thirds of the way complete when transferring from one computer to another. I’ve lost my cable for my external hard drive. I’ve had my tablet go to hell and back multiple times. But I am working. I am trying. I am sitting down as often as I can between looking for work and managing family nonsense to try and get my workload tidied up.

Which... brings me to my next point. And one I’m rather... ashamed about.

I have used trello, infrequently, since taking on a large load of commissions, and despite not being faithfully updating it and checking back on it, and using it to it’s fullest potential, I had kept, at the minimum, a list of all the work I did owe people using it. Well. Dumbass me attempted to use a mobile app. In short, in an effort to try and make myself tech literate and allow me easier access to my queue, I ended up deleting it. Somehow.

I’ve gone through and slowly flagged all my paypal notices and various emails concerning my commissions. I’m putting it together again. I’m trying. Granted, I am damned sure I am going to be missing someone, somewhere, somehow. I know it. I’ve got a shit brain, and despite my need for organization and minimalism, I don’t put it past me to have missed something along the way.

If you have commissioned me, please, do not hesitate to reach out and contact me regarding your commission. I owe every last one of you a massive apology for my continued failure to produce what you have paid for.

More likely than not, I have a wip already started somewhere, and if not, I have a slew of reference and thumbnails already compiled together somewhere on my computers. I am not ignoring this work. It’s been painfully, embarrassingly slow. It’s been one obstacle after another. But I have every intention of doing this work, and, likely, upgrading the quality of the finished piece past what my commissioners have paid for simply because I do feel bad about the wait time.

I have been inexcusably unprofessional. I know this and I am working as best I can with the time and resources I have to correct it.

In a similar vein, as I mentioned before, I have slowly been cleaning up my rather unimpressive publishing attempts. I’ve gone through and cleaned this blog recently, deleting reference to my work by name and the process of trying to get myself published. I may have missed a few posts here and there, but for the most part I would like a clean slate in regards to building a social media platform surrounding my written work. And this is the part where... I am probably going to be the most upfront and honest with you reading this than I have been publicly before.

I am not ashamed of who I’ve been online these past ten years or so, but it reflects only a sliver of my personality, a sliver of who I am as a whole. I catered to a very specific subset of who I am in pursuit of finding acceptance in communities much larger than myself. I’ve learned a hell of a lot about myself in that time. I figured out what’s important to me, my health, my sexuality, my relationships and my long term goals. I’ve found a very important group of friends. I’ve found people who understand and empathize with a lot of the things I have been through, experience, and am at my core.

But the fact of the matter is, this hypersexual, sci-fi aesthetic-oriented, very open person is only a singular facet. And it is not nearly enough of a reflection of who I am, or who I want to be as a professional, public adult. Will I always be gay for robots? Yes. Will I, when time permits and creative energies are present, continue to make nsfw art? Absolutely. Will I always have a toe dipped in erotic literature and the like? Most likely.

But a lot of me, a lot of my emotion and strife and feelings regarding most things in the world, are completely separate from this. It’s separate from me liking porn on twitter or having a homestuck roleplay blog. It’s separate from who I am in real life, with my boyfriend or with my family or with my work. And I have been dwelling on this, sincerely, for a while. I need to allocate more energy into my life. The separate life offline and online too, where I am pursuing an actual professional career, because, at the end of the day, I want to be an author. I want to have a career telling stories. And, in my time online, I’ve found a lot of skeletons in authors’ closets, the kind that really put mine to shame, and the kind that will always be a footnote to their work. You know the ones.

I want my creative work to speak for itself. I want people to be able to enjoy what I do without a specter, without my time and energy having to explain to a future audience why it is I had explicit thoughts about x,y, and z. I want to be able to write a book, write many books, and have people enjoy them without a footnote about me, a person with a sexual life and a history exploring it through years of depression and isolation, clouding it. It’s not fair to my work. It’s not fair to a future reader. It’s not fair to me.

I’ve got several social media accounts made and slowly coming to life that I need to spend more time with as I try and pursue this new, second leg of a very long journey into publishing. I’m not going to link those here, now or in the future. It’s likely a few people I know and trust have access to them. But I am, effectively starting over from scratch trying to build a platform as a writer. And it’s hard. Juggling that, alongside all of the things in the world today, alongside family and my relationships, alongside my commission queue? It bears down on me and if I didn’t have experience handling more than one thing at a time, I might trip up more frequently. Hell, I forget to post and use those new accounts regularly.

But I’m trying.

I’m not moving away from my current social circles or hobbies or anything like that. I’m not abandoning any fandom or friends or communities. But I am going to be trying to balance myself more thoughtfully moving forward, past just commissions, past just writing.

I’m here. I’m moving forward, slowly but surely, and I am making an effort to improve.

[habibialkaysani]

okay so. a lot has been going on lately and I haven't had much time to be on here or time in general. now that the week is over tho things are starting to die down hopefully. and like I do with work emails I'm gonna just write a list, of all the things that have been going on, because I feel like my brain is about to explode otherwise.

lots of rambling, potentially triggering stuff under the cut:

1) pain. so much pain. I thought I'd moved past this endo thing, or at least that the pain was contained because of the meds the gyno gave me plus the progesterone that was definitely easing the pain for a bit during the month. but the ones my gyno gave me, they can only be taken during my period and mine isn't starting. so I've been in agony, like in so much pain, and the only relief has been a hot water bottle and codeine. and I don't want to take more days off when I've already taken sick days this year - which is not like me, at all. but potentially that might not be an issue for a while if I end up having to work from home. and in terms of addressing the root cause of the problem, that's unlikely, because the mri I had of my pelvis came back normal. no indications of endometriosis which I expected because this shit doesn't show on ultrasounds or mris. I do think there might be a chance it shows on a transvaginal ultrasound but they outright refuse to do that which really fucking pisses me off bc it's on the basis of me never being laid before which as I've mentioned is ridiculous.

2) speaking of. this motherfucking coronavirus is doing my head in. seriously i had to order hand sanitiser for the office and it still hasn't arrived. I did manage to get a few masks but god those were expensive. and just generally it's all anyone will talk about at work which is driving me nuts. and what makes it worse is that I'm going out of my mind thinking about speedy and if she gets it, because she's got a heart condition and her immune system isn't very strong even for regular flu. this shit will hit her hard and I'm terrified of that esp after hearing boris fucking johnson saying in his speech that people are going to lose loved ones. I don't know what I'll do if I lose her. actually I have an idea and it would not be good. I spoke to my brother who is a healthcare professional and he said that it's best to get in touch with the cardiology team that look after speedy to see if we can do anything preventative or get her tested.

3) in better news, my brother just announced to our family that he's getting married. already its causing arguments and his fiancee comes from a more well off family (the bar is low tho admittedly) so we're all gonna be scrambling to get our tiny house somewhat in shape for when my bro's future in laws visit in a couple weeks. but it's still good news I think because my bro is smitten and that's just nice to see. his fiancee makes him happy and that's something I'm really glad he found. they want a small wedding too so hopefully we'll have like 200 guests max, which would be sacrilege in any desi household lol.

4) I've been looking for a new job for a while now. things at work have been tough, ever since my old manager gave in her notice. I don't mind my current manager all that much, but she's in hr, and she's clearly never managed anyone before because she is nowhere near as good a support system as my old manager. I could go to my old manager and complain about something and she'd listen, and she actively made an effort to monitor my workload. this new one, she just doesn't put the same effort in and she also just doesn't understand the role I'm in either. she seems to think the job I do is easy and straightforward when it is neither, on the basis that she thinks admin is something anyone could do, and she does nothing to try and ease things when my workload gets heavy. plus my managers manager who is also in hr is just really not nice. she enjoys a power trip way too much. that and the fat cats that are our clients - well suffice it to say I think my time here is up. so I've been looking and I found a nonprofit that was hiring. I did my first interview with them and it went surprisingly well. and now I've got my second one next friday. I really hope that goes well too and that I get the job, just so I can see the look on my managers managers face when I give in my notice 😂 and this new job if I get it would be five fewer hours and I think that could do wonders for my wellbeing. and my sanity.

5) writing. I've done none of it. it's a problem. I don't know what to do to make my mojo come back because I write the best when I'm alone, and I'm never on my own nowadays unless I'm in bed in pain, in which case writing is the last thing I feel like doing. but I also really want to write. so badly. I feel like I'm emotionally more stable when I'm writing. I'm happier. and I just do not have that right now which is not fun.

6) reading - now this is something I have done. my dear friend reen recommended a series of books called reluctant royals, by alyssa cole, and omg. they are so good. I powered through three big novels and two novellas. like I devoured them. and I'm being reminded of how much I love books. good ones. they made me laugh a lot and I'm really glad my friend recommended them.

7) speaking of devouring. a few weeks ago I found on several occasions that people were offering their seats to me on public transport, presumably because they thought I was pregnant. it was this combined with my doctor admitting my bmi wasn't normal (tho only when I asked if this might be causing the pain) that made me realise that I needed to lose weight drastically, and to eat better and walk more. so I've been eating more veggies and salad. trying to put more greens on my plate. not have fast food as often. in all honesty I'm not sure how much of a difference its actually made, but I do know that I feel a little better having done so over the last few weeks. my brother also said I looked like I had lost weight. I've also noticed it a little in my tummy going in a bit too. but I also know that this is a rabbit hole I don't want to go down too far. I worry I might have already with the weighing which I've been doing far too often now that there's scales at work (for weighing big packages). I don't want this to spiral out of control. but I think I've done okay so far, minus the weighing thing - I've always eaten when I've felt hungry so it's not like I'm starving myself. and so far I've only lost about 3kg. which I feel is significant but also nowhere near enough when it comes to the nhs bmi calculator.

8) my little brother has been acting up for months now, and tbh it's starting to give me anxiety. my mother found weed in his room and he's just been rebelling in what I see as normal teenage ways like smoking and staying out late, but it's also affecting his school and I'm worried he won't leave with decent a levels bc he already failed once. and his school keeps emailing my dad about him supposedly being absent, and my dad's response to this for about two months now has been to post a screenshot of each email into the family group chat and demand where my bro has been. it doesn't help. and I don't need to be notified every time he skips school or whatever like that is not my fucking problem to have to see when I'm at work and have enough stresses as it is. my dad is an idiot and honestly some days I would dearly love to punch the man in the face.

9) I start my group therapy in a couple weeks. it’s for generalised anxiety and I am really, really hoping it will help me because the other group therapy I’ve done previously, like a couple months back, has proven to be really helpful. here’s hoping.

10) if anyone is still reading this far - I realise this sounds a lot like I'm feeling sorry for myself. maybe I am to some degree. but my life is just a lot right now and I'm genuinely a bit shocked I'm still in one piece and that I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet. everything is a lot and I feel like I'm going through a lot of change. that's hard. but I'm trying my best to get through this and I hope somehow I can. I actually left tumblr for a bit because for various reasons I didn’t feel as safe talking about my problems on here, through no fault but my own really. I’m hoping I’ve moved past that now.

[actuallyadhd]

Hi! So I'm 15 and in school. What I really struggle with is that I'll sit down to do work (essays are where I have this problem a lot) and I'll be there for 4 hours and only get a tiny bit done. I turn my phone off and don't open any other tabs...I even set timers but I never reach my goals. It's incredibly frustrating because idk where my time goes and everything just drifts and I don't know what I'm doing to lose so much time. Is this a result of my ADHD? How can I stop this? thanks! :)

Sent October 18, 2018

It could be due to your ADHD.

I’m wondering if your goals are too large or something, so you’re basically shutting down when you sit down to work.

This might sound ridiculous, but stick with me and give it a try; it might help.

Okay, I’m going to make up a fictional homework roster and take you through the process I’m thinking of. Then I’ll summarize it into the steps to follow.

Cut for length.

In this imaginary semester, I’m taking Band, French, Math, English, Social Studies, and Art. Here is my list of assignments:

Band: practice all pieces

French: write a report on another country, all in French; practice vocabulaire

Math: Unit 3 review problems

English: read next short story; work on research paper.

Social Studies: read Chapter 4

Art: who are we kidding, I never had homework for art class

So four subjects and seven assignments. Let’s break it down further.

Band: we’re playing five pieces and I have solos in two

French: the report is due at the end of November; vocabulaire is a weekly thing and we’ll be tested on Friday

Math: there are 100 review problems at the end of the unit and our unit test is on Friday

English: we’ll be discussing the story in class tomorrow; the research paper is due right before Christmas and has to be 10 pages long

Social Studies: the chapter is 30 pages long (5 sections) and there are 5 sets of comprehension questions and 15 review questions to do, plus a bunch of glossary words to copy out, and we’ll be discussing one section of the chapter each day in class for the next week

Break down the larger tasks even more:

French report

choose country

research country, focusing on culture

organize research notes into categories (e.g., clothing, food, music, entertainment)

write clothing section

write food section

write music section

write entertainment section

write introduction; include demographics and economic information

write conclusion

check over grammar etc.

make sure bibliography is done properly

English research paper

choose topic

research topic

organize research notes

make outline

write body of report, following outline

write introduction

write conclusion

check grammar etc.

make sure citations and bibliography are done properly

Now assign due dates to each mini-task and divide up the other assignments over the coming week (pretending today is Monday), so the list is going to look more like this:

Band: practice all pieces, spend extra time on solos – daily

French report: choose country – todayresearch country, focusing on culture – daily until November 11organize research notes into categories (e.g., clothing, food, music, entertainment) – November 12write clothing section – November 13 & 14write food section – November 15 & 16write music section – November 17 & 18write entertainment section – November 19 & 20write introduction; include demographics and economic information – November 21 & 22write conclusion – November 23 & 24check over grammar etc. – November 25–27make sure bibliography is done properly – November 28

French vocabulaire: make flash cards – todaypractice – daily

Math: complete 25 questions per day

English reading: read short story – todaywrite out thoughts and impressions – today

English research paper: choose topic – todayresearch topic – daily until November 15organize research notes – November 16make outline – November 17 & 18write body of report, following outline – November 19–December 12 (break down into sections when outline complete)write introduction – December 13 & 14write conclusion – December 15 & 16check grammar etc. – December 17–19make sure citations and bibliography are done properly – December 20

Social Studies: read one section per daycopy out glossary words and definitions while readinganswer comprehension questions for each section on that dayanswer review questions after the entire chapter is finished in class

It looks like a lot, but let’s distill it to just what needs to be done today and estimate how long each task will take:

Band: practice all pieces, spend extra time on solos (30-60 minutes)

French report: choose country (15 minutes)

French vocabulaire: make flash cards (30 minutes)practice (30 minutes)

Math: complete 20 questions (30 minutes)

English reading: read short story (10 minutes)write out thoughts and impressions (20 minutes)

English research paper: choose topic (15 minutes)

Social Studies: read section & copy glossary words and definitions (20 minutes)answer comprehension questions (20 minutes)

Wow, that’s still a pretty heavy workload: just over 3 hours plus practice time! Of course, some tasks won’t take as long as I’ve put, and others will take more time. The total is probably close to right, though it doesn’t include breaks.

Because yeah, we’re going to take breaks.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really do great with focusing on one subject for a really long time unless I’m really into it. So I’m actually going to reorganize this list to make it work better for how my brain works.

French report: choose country (15 minutes)

English research paper: choose topic (15 minutes)

Math: complete 10 questions (15 minutes)

French vocabulaire: make flash cards (30 minutes)

Social Studies: read section & copy glossary words and definitions (20 minutes)

Band: practice all pieces, spend extra time on solos (30-60 minutes)

Math: complete 10 questions (15 minutes)

English reading: read short story (10 minutes)write out thoughts and impressions (20 minutes)

French vocabulaire: practice (30 minutes)

Social Studies: answer comprehension questions (20 minutes)

Now things are broken up a bit more so it isn’t so daunting, everything has due dates to instill a sense of urgency, and my subjects are mixed up to maintain interest. And the key to actually getting through all of it is to take a 5-minute break after each task, as well as whenever my interest starts to wane during the longer tasks.

About the 5-minute breaks: I recommend active breaks, during which you get out of your seat and wander a bit, get a snack from the kitchen, etc. Whatever helps you recharge and won’t get you sucked in so that you forget to return to your work. For some people that is actually reading a book, which would be disastrous for me!

So, the steps I followed:

List all assignments.

Break down long-term assignments into smaller tasks.

Assign due dates to each of these smaller tasks.

Break down other assignments into smaller tasks.

Assign due dates to all of the tasks.

List all tasks that are due today.

Estimate how long each of today’s tasks will take.

Break up larger tasks even smaller (e.g., a group of 20 questions can be split into two groups of 10).

Arrange the tasks in a way that will maintain your interest.

Complete the first task in the list, taking 5-minute breaks as needed.

Take a 5-minute break when the task is finished.

Repeat steps 10 and 11 for each task in the list until done.

I hope this is helpful, and if it doesn’t tackle the actual problem you’re having, please write in again with more details so I can try again!

-J

[hoe-imaginess]

Part 4

She moves her general directly into a compromising spot. An amateur mistake. With a simple move, he adds it to his captured pieces.

“You’re not thinking this through,” Madara murmurs.

She doesn’t reply.

She should be drawing back rather than advancing. If it were gall and confidence making her moves so impulsive, he might have been able to admire it a little, maybe enjoy it. But he doesn’t admire her mindlessness.

They would usually play on days their workload was at a low. Now, the mundane comfort that shogi is meant to offer is replaced by prolonged silence. They both know normality is a far reach at that point.

Not that she can boast at a winning streak, or any winning of any kind when it came to playing Madara, but she usually presents compensation in the form of a decent challenge. But it’s hardly satisfying for him now.

When he had asked her outside the academy if she planned to come to the library, it had been completely antagonistic in nature, just meant to remind her that he was aware of her little ruse to evade him, and that he didn’t find it at all entertaining.

Fine. I’ll be there.

Words spoken with such bitterness, but the conviction to validate those words did not reach her face. He could see the unease swimming in her eyes. The same unease he assumes keeps her in the constant, annoying state of equivocation, where all she does is avoid him.

She puts one of her generals back into play, but it’s by no means a calculated move. He doesn’t comment that time, only moves a piece to counter it. At that point he’s certain he could wear a blindfold and she would still pose no better a challenge.

“What is it, _____?”

“Nothing.” She looks at the board without seeing it. No amount of strategizing will do anything for her. She just needs to bide her time away from his scrutiny. 

"Look at me.”

She stiffens. Then after a moment’s hesitation, obeys.

His eyes are dark, unforgiving. “You were very clear when you told me that your absence was a result of work. Nothing else. That what happened between us did not trigger this behavior. ”

So, he’s not going to beat around the bush. “Maybe it’s just taken me time to understand.” She looks away from him then, unable to hold the thick gaze.

His eyes narrow. “Understand what?”

“What you’re doing.”

She moves one of her pieces again, to a much more perceptive place. Sharpness surged by swelling frustration, he assumes. How interesting.

“Then tell me what I’m doing.” He puts his next piece down with punctuated force, and she looks at him. 

“I think you’re just antagonizing me.”

He scoffs arrogantly. “If you’re still referring to that day after the academy meeting, then forgive me if I didn’t convey my intentions correctly. My plan was not to antagonize you.”

She scowls, but shivers when a ghost of his touch slides across her thighs, like his hands never left. There’s even a blush on her cheeks as she thinks carefully about his words. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t stand that I’m on good terms with the Senju now, can you?”

He wins the game, again. With no lament of defeat, she stands from her seat and moves over to a bookshelf. Anything to get away from his deep glare.

“Interesting theory,” he says. “Then would it be fair of me to assume you’re more frequently collaborating with them on purpose?”

“Why would I be doing it on purpose?”

“To antagonize me, perhaps. Or to prove me wrong about everything I’ve told you. Why else choose to mend a broken bond with Tobirama, of all people?”

“I’m just discussing policies with him,” she says as she idly searches book titles, “and assisting when necessary.”

“Assisting,” he scoffs. “Don’t you think you’re being a little too generous? Given that he did next to nothing for you and your clan when you needed it most.”

“That’s not true,” she insists. And the defensive tone surprises her. 

She realizes then that Madara isn’t aware of the negotiating Tobirama facilitated between the Shimura and Sarutobi, all for the sake of accommodating her clan. She hadn’t disclosed that fact, not previously. And something tells her she shouldn’t at all. He would probably refute it, and convince her that Tobirama had ulterior motives, that it wasn’t genuine. She’s half-afraid she would believe him. 

But he’s impressed, nonetheless. "Oh no? Then tell me how magnanimous and understanding he was.”

She doesn’t like the way it’s spoken with such condescension. “Forget it, Madara.”

“Do you know what he plans to do with your clan?”

She looks at him now, eyes narrowed. “What?”

Glad he’s caught her attention, he doesn’t beat around the bush. “Your clan is not contributing to the academy. Not as much as Tobirama would like, at least. He will not stand for that. You get what you put in, that’s how he sees it. Because you will not sacrifice your resources, your clan loses out on opportunities in the academy.”

“What are you talking about?” she counters automatically, as if it were ridiculous. But it reels her in, nonetheless. She carefully returns to the table, drawn in by his words.

“Think about it.”

And she does. What he’s implying certainly is by no means unfathomable, but would Tobirama do that to her? After they had finally managed to appease tension? After she started trusting him? 

She looks at him. “Are you doing it again?” she asks.

Annoyance sharpens his features. “Am I doing what?”

“Trying to instigate me.”

“Of course I am,” he says with no hesitance whatsoever. “So you clear your mind and start thinking straight. But what I’m saying is no lie. He gives privilege to clans that conform to his needs. Your clan does not. Therefore, your rights to in village are limited. Ask him yourself.”

“Is that what you want? A confrontation? To create more tension between the Senju and my clan?”

“No,” he grunts sharply. “That’s not what I want.”

He stands from the table and walks to her. After so many chilling and unnerving encounters, she wants to step away. But she’s swept up in confusion and concern. She doesn’t even flinch when he comes close to her. 

“I want you to know what exactly you’re getting yourself into by trusting him.”

“I know what I’m getting myself into, Madara. Don’t act like I’m naive.”

“You are if you trust him.”

She scowls. “By what he’s told me, I shouldn’t be trusting you either.”

“So that’s what he’s been doing? Filling your head with—”

“No. That’s not what he’s doing.” She sounds exasperated. “If anything, you are the one trying to manipulate me and fill my head with lies.” 

He remains silent when she says that. For what reason, she doesn’t know. But the air is subdued then, still lingering with distinct tension, but the aggression weathers away. 

“I don’t want to argue with you,” she continues. “Don’t do this again. You’re only stirring tension where it doesn’t need to be stirred.” It isn’t what she wants. It was never what she wanted. To be so combative every time she was with him, when she truly considered him to be one of, if not her closest companions... It didn’t feel right. “Where is this coming from, Madara? Is it just because I’ve been spending time with Tobirama? Is that really it?”

“Yes,” he snaps. It’s the truth. He doesn’t care to deny it. “In the beginning you  bore the brunt of Tobirama’s negligence. For weeks on end, all you did was complain. And now? To put faith in him? To open yourself and your clan to disaster so easily?” Something changes in him, something dark and morbid. She can see it in his face, in his eyes. “Every clan, yours included, cannot be expected to relinquish all resentment from decades of war. It’s just not possible. You see the tension that surrounds us. Are we supposed to just forget? How can you be so trusting?”

“How can you be so doubtful? I was always cautious, Madara. You don’t think I felt the same way about the Uchiha when we first joined the village?” Her eyes plead with him, though she wonders if it will do any good now that they’re both so passionate about their conflicting beliefs. “Don’t think I didn’t. Because I did. Then I met you. Here. In this very library. And when we spoke for the first time, you were kind to me, and nothing like I expected. I learned to trust you. Just as I have learned to trust Tobirama.”

He scowls and scoffs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Even after what I’ve told you? That he plans to punish your clan for not yielding to his demands?”

“How do I know that’s the truth, Madara?”

“You really think I would lie to you?”

“To aggravate me? Yes. You even admitted it yourself. That’s all you’re doing, trying to antagonize me.”

“I would not steer you in the wrong direction,” he snaps. “But he will. And when your clan is facing the consequences of your naivety—”

“You’re not concerned with my clan,” she says sharply. “Or me.” The bands that held her anger together break under his ignorance. “This is just part of your own agenda, using me for your animosity. You’re not doing this for my benefit.”

“Then for whose?” he counters angrily. “Mine?”

“Who else?” She sounds afflicted. And in the tangle of emotions suddenly attacking her, she reaches for whatever counter she can, and regrets it immediately.

“Is this because of your brother?” she says. “Is this for Izuna? Has it been for him all this time? Some twisted desire to avenge him—”

A hand twists into her collar and pushes her back roughly against the shelves, hard enough to knock scrolls loose from their place and tumble to the floor.

“Do not bring Izuna into this.” 

His voice is threatening and cold, cold as the pits of his dark, intense eyes.

The sting of impact floods her back, but it’s not the pain that’s disconcerting, not the fact that he physically acted out on the aggression. It’s the pure malice in his words. It’s the first time he’s raised his voice to her like that. 

She would twist away from his grip, but her veins are ice cold, her body unresponsive. She imagines that it’s exactly what it must have felt like to fall to Madara Uchiha in battle. It must be the same sense of urgency, the same dread. He might as well have a kunai pressed to her throat.

Seeing her like this, anxious, frightened, looking at him as though he’s the enemy, the way everyone looks at him... it disgusts him. His grip subsides, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand flattens and gently rests against her collar bone, like the tender contact will atone for what he’s done.

She peers up at him, expectant but frightened. Imperceptible tremors run through her body, which he feels under his palm. He closes his eyes and gathers his thoughts. He doesn’t want to apologize. Not for his intentions. He might apologize for his emotions, since for the first time, he realizes what she’s done to him.

In the beginning, he admittedly toyed with her emotions, though not for malevolent reasons. It had only been out of a need to gauge her temperament and her judgement, toward the Senju, mostly. Toward Tobirama. It was all so much easier when he thought she shared the same ill will toward the man. Now, Madara is painfully aware that she doesn’t. Not anymore. He’s losing her to the Senju. Just like he lost his brother.

But it appears that nothing he said would change her mind. The cycle of frustration and pain and desire would only continue. Nothing could be done about it.

“Do whatever you please,” he says finally. And he walks away. 

There’s no ultimatum. No threat. No admonition. All things she had come to expect. Now whatever tie they had stands irrefutably cut. She can feel it, can feel the depravity as he grabs his belongings and departs.

“Madara,” she tries to plead. But there’s no reply, not even a parting glance.

The comfort leaves with him, and she feels alone.

                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you need anything from me, ______-san?”

“No. You’re free to leave. Thank you for sorting these scrolls for me.” She waves the assistant off, wishing he would just go away, but the young man looks unconvinced. It’s only after she gives him an earnest, regrettably forceful look that he bows and leaves. Then she turns back to her work.

The suspicions Madara implanted in her mind had been supplemented in a matter of days. She’s dubious. Dubious, worried, anxious—and almost convinced of Tobirama’s plot. 

It started directly after her altercation with the Uchiha, when she wandered over to the Senju office. She couldn’t think straight. She just needed to be somewhere else, and found the promise of being with Tobirama, or even Hashirama, for that matter, compelling her toward their side of the village.

When she arrived, it was a relief to see the younger Senju sitting at Hashirama’s desk. Comfort found her, in a desperate, cynical sort of way.

“I’m conducting a meeting soon with two clan heads. We’re discussing the academy,” he had said when he saw her.

They had discussed the academy with advisors before, but never with the private audience of a clan head, not since the initial meeting. She had been excited at the idea, hopeful that they could offer more to their cause now that higher-ups were involved.

“Alone,” he had clarified as soon as he saw the eager smile on her face.

Even now, she remembers the awful sting in her body as a flood of uncertainty hit her, shattering the denial she had built since hearing Madara spew his libel. 

Usually, she would have argued and inquired as to why she could not attend the meeting. Did he not know that she would be interested in what the clan heads had to say? Especially when she had been collaborating with him all this time? They were both advisors. He had no higher authority than her that dictated whether she should be involved or not. It was insulting. She had every reason to question him.

Yet she did nothing of the sort. She just apologized, an uncharacteristic gesture he didn’t seem to catch, and left. 

Then the next day, an envoy had come to her home with an offhand message from Tobirama, simply stating that he would be busy, occupied with more meetings that he needed to settle on his part. And that it would be best if she left him to his work.

A clear statement. She needed to keep away. She was not invited, or wanted.

Is this how he would do it? she thought. How he planned to move her out of the picture? Tobirama had yet to call on her clan heads to hold any sort of discussion pertaining to the academy. Not just that, but through the hours spent planning and brainstorming, he had not mentioned her clan’s involvement once. Madara’s words seemed truer with every cumulative thought.

Of course, she could write it off as an unnecessary discussion. The fact she collaborated with him at all surely meant he was keeping her clan in mind. Yet what prompted him to exclude her from his meetings? Why had he not requested an audience with her clan heads like the others? Did that really mean that he planned to penalize her clan...? No. It couldn’t be. It was just Madara’s words twisting her rationality.

But the idea of not knowing the complete truth hinders her concentration, and the Uchiha’s voice at the back of her mind persists as a reminder of the unknown.

One of her assistants is suddenly calling to her and kneeling outside the room, waiting for entry. She accepts, and the young girl who looks crossly disheveled doesn’t look her in the eyes. 

“Madara Uchiha wishes to speak with you,” she whispers. “He asked to be escorted here.”

Her mind draws blank. She would prepare herself for whatever it was he sought out, but she doesn’t see the point in guessing. If there’s anything she’s learned from Madara, it’s that he’s unpredictable.

She tells the girl to let him in, and waits in fretful anticipation. With a slide of the door, the Uchiha is there standing in front of her.

It’s silent.

She watches him closely for any signs of acrimony, but there are none. He spares only an expectant, but impatient glance to the young assistant that shadows him.

The woman understands immediately, and dismisses the girl. “Thank you. Go home now. It’s getting dark.”

This assistant is much more obedient than the last, likely unsettled by Madara’s strong presence. She forces herself to bow, then scurries away, leaving them alone at last.

His calm is remarkable, but inside, a swirl of emotions he hasn’t quite tethered. He hadn’t considered what he would say to her, only that he needed to say something. Hours of enduring the waves of regret and anxiety crashing over his train of thought, and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I leave today,” he begins, almost methodically, “to meet with the daimyo. With Hashirama.”

She nods slowly. “I know.”

“I need to explain something,” he begins, hesitantly. But earnestly, nevertheless. "What I said that day. I was irrational. Paranoid, as of late. It was wrong of me.” That morning, he had taken some of those same fears and unleashed them onto Hashirama. 

This visit to the daimyo would finalize the village as a permanent settlement in the Land of Fire. It should have been a good thing to be progressing like they were. Finally, their childhood dream would come to fruition.

But he couldn’t see it that way. Not when he could still feel the friction between clans. Not when Tobirama was already moving to cause strife. It pushed him to the edge of doubt, and triggered a long suppressed outrage.

Hashirama had been unprepared for his friend’s anger. Fortunately, an argument that took the better part of the day finally put Madara at ease. Hashirama may not have been a diplomat at heart, but all he had to do was remind Madara of what the village stood for, of the violence and mayhem that could be avoided by uniting the shinobi world, and the Uchiha yielded.

The reluctance Madara felt is no longer potent. It still remains, however, somewhere in the depths of his heart. He expects it won’t be the last debate he and Hashirama have about the matter.

But for now, he knows how agonizing those doubts can be. The possibility—more like fact—that he left her agonized in the same way, and for so long, is what brings him to her. To alleviate the dilemma, because he knows it’s his fault.

"I want this village to work.”

He hadn’t anticipated her voice to be so soft, so vulnerable, so hesitant. It makes the searing guilt even worse.

"So do I.” Despite the complications. Despite the doubt. He really does. “I want it to work.”

“But it can’t if you keep acting this way,” she adds, and immediately, his civil composure threatens to fall. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, trying to persevere as she goes on. “You need stop trying to fill my head with lies that will get me into trouble, Madara.”

He steps closer to her, through the door until he’s fully inside of her home, all in one swift motion.

She doesn’t realize how close he is until her feet hit the wall and he’s in front of her, solemn, tense, determination swimming in his charcoal eyes. “I am not lying. The only thing I’m trying to do is help you, _______.“

He’s so close that her scent floods him. That tint of warm sugar and fresh flowers that has always seemed so calming and pleasant to his senses. He reaches out to touch her face, and she stills. She never realized how large and slender his hands were, fingers stretching along her cheeks to caress her lightly in an effort of apology.

She stares fretfully over his shoulder, outside the open door where the sun is peeking out above the trees surrounding the village, descending for the night. If anyone were to come across the compromising situation, it would be difficult to conjure an explanation. 

“I know,” is all she says. 

There’s nothing else she can think of to subdue the rising pressure. She understands what he means. But she can’t accept it. Maybe it’s because she can’t abandon the progress she’s made, or what she thought she had made so far, with the village, and with Tobirama. 

There are no changes in his expression. He examines her. Her eyes, her lips, her hair. Everything. Like he’s focused on nothing else but drinking up the sight of her, accepting the pain he had brought her, owning the regret.

“Did you ask him?”

Her eyes return to him, confused, but she thinks she knows. “What?”

“Tobirama,” he clarifies, voice so soft and quiet she doesn’t recognize it as his. “Did you ask him about his plans?”

Then she’s looking away again, reminded of the suspicion that has persecuted her all this time. She doesn’t want it to be true. 

“No.”

“Ask him,” he says, retracting and staring down at her, almost expressionless. “You deserve to know.”

She only stares, and he doesn’t waver from her gaze, letting her swallow down the severity of his words. It’s by no means deceit. He’s honest. He’s doing it for her. She thinks she realizes that now.

And when he pulls away and leaves, the dismay returns, like his presence kept her grounded. 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~

There are footsteps approaching from outside the door, but Tobirama is hardly in the mood to be disturbed.

“Who is it?” he calls before they can even announce themselves.

It better not be Hashirama. His elder brother was already late to the congregation at the head of the village where he was meant to depart on his trip, yet he had come to wish his younger brother farewell just a few minutes prior.

“Me,” the firm voice comes from the other side of the door.

Definitely something Hashirama would say, Tobirama thinks, but it’s not his brother.

She doesn’t wait for permission. She walks in, and he only offers her a glance of acknowledgement before returning his attention to the scroll in his hands, surprisingly unruffled by her lack of courtesy.

“The amount of people who come into this office and I’m expected to know who ‘me’ is?”

“Yet you still let me enter.” She moves to the edge of the desk and draws her eyes over the heap of scrolls. “Besides, you’re a sensor.”

"I’m not charging chakra every second of the day. I shouldn’t have to.”

“That makes it even easier to sneak up on you, then.”

He tries to glare at her, but it comes across as a harmless, fatigued frown. He’s thoroughly weary from all the work on his plate, but that’s suddenly no longer his primary concern. He can’t concentrate on his own demeanor when hers is pressing his curiosity.

He hadn’t seen her once since he practically dismissed her from his presence before his academy meetings, something he regrets deeply. The calm when she left Hashirama’s office that day had been palpable. Suspiciously palpable. Which is what led Tobirama to sit and brood far longer than he cared to admit, trying to understand what could have possibly extinguished her normally fiery attitude. It made little sense that she would settle so easily with being barred from his academy discussions, no matter how gently he had tried to let her down.

Over the past weeks, there came a sinking realization that their intimate interactions would boil skepticism from others at some point. Tobirama is convinced that the key to harmonizing the village is equal discretion; favoring one clan over the other would not encourage that. It was for that exact reason he had chosen to subtly exclude her from his discussion with the clan heads, and even sent an envoy to suggest that they forgo on their seeing each other again the following day.

It had all been for the sake of discretion. Nothing else. He assumed that she wanted attention drawn to them no more than he did, and that precaution was necessary. Had she questioned him, he would have gladly explained that. But when he received no reply to his message, he knew she was likely offended. Which is why it’s so curious that he can’t find a single trace of solicited hostility in her expression now. Not even in her voice. 

She’s too calm. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

"Are these for the academy?” she asks, running her hands along the strewn scrolls.

He says nothing, but passes one over to her.

“Hashirama will have to build this, no doubt,” she notes as she examines the paper. Blueprints for expanding academy grounds, she thinks. "After he’s worn himself from the village’s infrastructure, you don’t think this is too much for him?”

“He will work with whatever I give him. He’s intrigued by the prospect of the academy, anyway. If I have to do all the administrative work, he can suffer a little manual labor.”

"And the Uchiha?” she asks, biting her tongue as soon as she says it. A stupid impulse that spills from her mouth only as impatience takes over. 

Tobirama’s ability to hide his emotions is excellent when he wants it to be, but she notices the slight tug of his lips into a frown. "What about them?”

“I don’t think I ever asked. What are they planning to contribute? Will they have something to do with the academy? ”

He stops reading and exhales heavily, like he’s annoyed. “Of course they will.”

“Are you sure?”

Now he looks at her, furrowing his brows in suspicion. “Madara agreed to assist, and thereby, his clan will have input… Why are you asking? Did he send you here to pry?”

“He didn’t send me to do anything. He and I were just discussing the academy recently, and I realized you and I hadn’t spoken about his plans. That’s all.”

It’s that complacency in her demeanor that he does not like. Not at all. Something is off. “You were with him just now?”

That seems like an obvious question. It had only been a few hours since he had come to her home. Come to clarify, come to… well, whatever else he had hoped to accomplish. 

“Why do you care?” she returns swiftly.

He scowls, and considers lying to snake away from the truth. “I don’t. I only ask that next time, you let me know when you’re consulting with the Uchiha about academy business.”

“The Uchiha,” she echoes quietly, wondering how it can sound so hateful spilling off his tongue like that.

The exasperated tone catches him. “What?”

“Nothing…” And she almost leaves it at that. Because the more she considers it, she doesn’t want to dig any further. Doesn’t want to find out the truth, because she fears what it will evoke. "You just make it seem as though he has no right to involve himself in academy affairs.”

Not this again, Tobirama thinks. “Of course he has a ‘right’,” he argues. “Even if I know he has more than enough grievances with my agenda. Like I said, he agreed to contribute. He will have a say in academy affairs.” For what seems like the hundredth time, he tries to focus on the last paragraph of the scroll in his hand.

She’s silent after that. Which is odd, he thinks. Usually their mild sparring persists much longer, or at least until it breaks into something more intense. But no, the silence is stretched almost uncomfortably.

She wonders whether she should say it. Madara’s words have been hammering away in her head in an agonizing way. Now it’s all the worse when she’s standing right in front of the accused.

Distress persists, and forces the words out of her. 

“Interesting. Because I need to know why you’re excluding my clan from affairs, even though we’re doing everything we can to contribute to the academy. Or does your courtesy only extend as far as your mood at the time?”

He visibly stiffens, and slowly raises his gaze to her. “What are you talking about?”

"I thought we were over this, Tobirama.” There’s the bite in her voice that was previously absent. “But I come to find out that you’re displeased with what we can offer you? And because of that, you’re plotting against us?”

“Plotting?” The calm leaves his voice. “You’re the one who said you didn’t have enough resources to contribute.”

“And that means you take away my clan’s opportunity? The children’s opportunities?”

“That is not even remotely close to what I am doing.”

“Then what is it?”

“The academy will be limited in the beginning, yes, that is true.” He’s trying to be understanding, but he’s never responded well to confrontation. Her belligerence blindsides him, makes him instinctively defensive. “I’m not punishing you for what you can’t offer. There is no penalty for that.”

“Then what would you call it?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He actually doesn’t know. If he’s being completely honest with himself, a penalty is exactly what he had considered it to be. That had only been on account of the troublesome complaints he had received from many clans. But when it comes to hers, labeling it as something so crooked seems wrong.

“Necessary governance,” he mutters finally, unable to look at her.

“Does Hashirama know about this?” she contends; anger is simmering at the surface.

He frowns. “What does that matter?”

“I can’t imagine your brother would let something like this happen. He’s too kind. Too considerate. Too concerned for the well-being of this village.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“You’re just focused on molding the village’s authority to your liking. You’re forcing us into contributing and punishing those who don’t adhere to what you want, Tobirama. This is supposed to be a unified village. You can’t treat people like this… Madara was right.” The exasperation subsides an entire level when she thinks about the Uchiha, about the way his fingers caressed her face. She had been wrong to doubt him.

“What do you mean?” he inquires, anger replaced by frustrating curiosity.

“He told me about this. He told me what you were planning." 

His face twists into something worse than a scowl. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter what exactly he told me. He couldn’t have possibly made it any worse than it is. I thought I could trust you. But all you’re doing is scheming for your own benefit. For yourself.”

“For myself?” He stands from his chair.

“Of course you are!“ Her voice transcends a volume she’s not used to, and her heart pounds at the audacity. "And if not for yourself, then for your clan. Not for the village. You preach about village prosperity, but that only applies if it’s under your conditions. This is exactly like it was in the beginning. You’re narrow-minded, and inconsiderate. I trusted you, Tobirama.” She sounds hurt, and he hears it. Then her tone welcomes malice once again. “But you don’t deserve my trust.”

The way ire thickens around her is probably enough to silence anyone. That sharp pain of disappointment in her voice, completed by an edge of regret. Her fiery glare, so close to him now that she’s leaned closer, puts him on edge.

But Tobirama is silent. He can’t fully comprehend what he’s just heard. No one has ever spoken to him like that. 

His expression softens to a bleak, listless frown. Even his voice is unexpectedly calm. “Is that really what you think?”

Her tone is agitated, still marred by the intensity of her outburst. She’s almost disappointed that she received such a lenient reaction. “Yes.”

A closer examination reveals his true sentiment. It’s like pure indignation burning in his scarlet eyes, hot emotion twisting into his features. Some part of her is intimidated, but it’s a part she can’t welcome right then.

He should hate her for coming to such audacious conclusions. Mostly because they’ve been devised by Madara. He had suspect as much all along. If anyone else had done this to him, if anyone else had spoken to him with such lawless impudence… well, he would hold nothing back. 

But now, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.

The fervor in her expression hasn’t disappeared. The furrow of her brows betrays anger and poses what he notices for the first time now as uncertainty. Uncertainty and confusion and pain.

It’s then that he becomes aware of just how close they are, only a few inches more and they would touch. Hands, body, or lips. 

His heart quickens its pace at the notion. He doesn’t know why the idea intrudes his thought process, especially when he’s searing with enough anger to choke her. He can’t handle it any longer.

"Get out,” he mutters, voice filled with a threat that he can’t form into words.

"No.” It doesn’t deter her, even if she is unsettled by the tone. It gets under his skin, she can see it in the way his face tightens into a hard scowl. "I’m tired of this, Tobirama. I’m tired of constantly wondering whether you’re going to go behind my back and—”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he says angrily. “Get out.”

“I’m not leaving.”

They’re still so close, so close she can hear the frustration in his shallow breaths. And now, he doesn’t bother hiding it. He’s staring at her lips. She can see it. He knows she can. Somehow, she finds her eyes drawn to his own lips, lips set in a thin, angry line. 

Through all the rage, she feels a drowning hope. Hope that the happiness and companionship she found in him would still be alive. That his schemes, lawful in foundation or not, wouldn’t ruin what they had. But she knows better. Feelings of sad warmth take over her, and she realizes how weak she becomes in the face of their turmoil. 

Eyes still on his lips, her breath catches when he dips his head down. She prepares herself, feels her heart stop, but he doesn’t do it.

He just lowers his head, and shuts his eyes in an attempt to gather his wits. A passion he doesn’t understand courses through him in defeat.

“Leave.”

It’s difficult to readjust her concentration, especially when her body is still filled with some odd, fluttering warmth. 

“No,” she manages.

He withdraws quickly, grabs a stack of scrolls and makes to leave, but she moves to block his path. He has half a mind to move her, but he doesn’t want to touch her.

“Don’t run away from this, Tobirama.“ She knows what she’s doing is completely reckless, and that the repercussions will be dire. But she can’t hold back. She didn’t come so far to receive no closure. The confusion and misplaced trust eats at her without fail. Who is she supposed to believe? "I can’t handle this anymore. This uncertainty and this distrust. I need to know why. Why are you doing this?”

His face falls in anger. “Why trust the word of that Uchiha?!” He’s yelling now, right in her face. He’ll regret his volatile temper later, but it’s his defense against the bubbling anxiety in his chest.

“Stop saying that,” she protests. “He’s been more help than you have, Tobirama. He’s been honest, and genuine—”

“Don’t call him honest,” Tobirama seethes. “If you weren’t so obsessed with him, then you would see he’s anything but honest.”

“I trust him. If not for him, I wouldn’t have even known about this little plot of yours. I would have made a fool of myself, hoping that you would take my wishes into consideration. I had to find out from him… Why is that?”

“You would see Madara for what he really is if you would just clear your head, if you weren’t so absorbed in this misconstrued idea of him.” Tobirama feels like he’s speaking to his brother. An endless argument that neither of them can ever win. But with her, it’s much more frustrating. 

“Is this still about Madara?… Why, Tobirama?” She steps toward him, too close for comfort, but he doesn’t draw back. “You never gave me a clear answer when I asked you. Why do you hate him so much? Why are you punishing me now for finding a friend in him?”

He scoffs in disgust. “You’re gullible.” The intent of his words is earnest, but the spite isn’t. He would say her logic is twisted, but it makes sense. He hates to admit it. But it does. 

He tries to side step and move to the door, the only destination that seems safe at the moment. She presses a hand against his chest and pushes him back. That’s when his self-restraint teeters.

“Why?” she pleads, desperately now. He can see it in her eyes, can feel it in the way her fingers tighten just slightly into the fabric of his shirt. “Tell me why.”

He doesn’t answer, only glares at her. 

Attempting to step by her again proves to be a fatal mistake. A disgruntled, frustrated protest, and her hands shove at his chest, hard. Instinctively, he snatches her wrists before she can set upon him again, and all at once an endless tangle of emotion and tension and exasperation snaps like a coil.

“Because!” he yells down at her. “I don’t trust him not to hurt you. I—”

Common sense returns to him just in time. He reads the flash of astonishment and confusion on her flushed face, and briefly shuts his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell he’s just done.

And then there’s silence. He wishes the earth would swallow him up, make him disappear.

What does she say to that? Does she follow the scorn that lingers, and reprimand him? His outburst makes that impossible. She can’t even bother to wrench her hands out of his grip.

She swallows, but finds her throat dry. “That’s—”

“Enough. It doesn’t matter.” 

He lets go of her, doesn’t even look at her as he moves to the door. “You and your clan will have anything you need for the academy. There will be no more complications.”

Then he leaves, slamming the door behind him. 

An odd, unshakable pain of separation grips her. One that has her losing sleep every night for weeks on end.

[narekashi]

A request and a flower shop [Sirius's route spoilers]

I haven't even reached this part of his route but I just really wanted to write it down--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Sirius, do you think that when the Black army and Red army conflict is over, we can meet each other besides in school and in Central Quarter?" Lancelot asked while lying down on the school rooftop gazing at the clouds above him.

Sirius who was sitting turned towards his friend with a dubious look. "I don't know Lancelot, though it might be possible once you become king but it'll definitely be difficult," he admitted. He paused for a moment before continuing, "but I know no one else is more situable to be king than you and maybe, just maybe you'll be able to stop this useless conflict."

"You're not even old but you already sound like an old man," the blonde man chuckled in reply. "Do you have any doubt that I wouldn't be able to do it?"

"Of course not." He replied back, sternly looking at his friend's eyes before softening a moment later. "If it's you, I believe you can do it."

Lancelot dropped his grin and looked away from his friend's eyes, clear pain was shown in them, pain that Sirius didn't know where it came from at the time. The two kept silent once again before the blonde boy broke the silence again.

"Sirius, your family owns a flower shop right?" Lancelot asked with a monotone voice.

Sirius nodded and said, "Yeah, why do you ask?"

The blonde boy pushed himself up with his arms and stared at the sky again while supporting his body with his arms, a smile rose onto his face as he spoke, "Then one day after I end the conflict between the Black and Red army, I'll ride majestically into your flower shop and buy some flowers to show them off in the Red Army! I bet everyone would love them and many people will flock to your flower shop!"

"Lancelot, you can't ride a horse or anything into my family's flower shop, plus I doubt we would have enough flowers to adore an entire land like the Red territory!" Sirius replied and let out a laugh after hearing his friend's words. Of all the things he had heard from his friend, this was one of the most ridiculous yet most endearing one that he had to crave into his mind to remember.

"Then you should prepare a bunch of flowers in advance! I'll pick them up one day, so just you wait!" Lancelot huffed and turned away as if he was upset but the other boy caught a hint of a smile on his friend before he turned away.

"Yeah yeah, your highness." Sirius teased and poked Lancelot's head from behind. "So what flowers do you want? I'll have to grow lots of them before you come as you wish but you'll have to sent an advance notice before you come to pick them up majestically!"

"Huff!" Lancelot pouted but nodded in response, agreeing with those terms and that small gesture made Sirius laugh louder. "Stop laughing, I'm serious!"

"Sure sure," the brown hair male covered his mouth in an attempt to stop laughing but he just couldn't. Lancelot turned around to glare at his friend but no sooner did he start to laugh too. As the small talk continued, the school bell rang at one point but they paid no need to it and continued to talk until the teachers found them. They had to explain themselves but the smile on their faces never got erased as they stayed together for the rest of the day.

Ringggggggggggggg

The sound of bell ringing woke up the brown hair male in bed. He gently opened his eyes to let himself adjust seeing the light pour in. Slowly, he got up and groaned with a rather sleepy deep voice in his frustration.

"Just a dream," he muttered to himself softly. He didn't hear how frustrated his tone was when he muttered those words out since he couldn't express how much and how long he bottled up these things in his heart. He knew his friend just made that promise out of spite and probably doesn't remember it by now but to him, that memory had been deeply engraved in his mind no matter how many times he wanted to forget it.

Sirius tried to remember his schedule for today. It was a Sunday, meaning he had more paper work to do than during weekdays. Plus with the war that had ended a month ago, there was definitely to be an increase in workload in addition. Before he got up to do his daily routine, he suddenly remembered his mum asking him to visit the flower shop every once in a while. He pondered for a moment before deciding what to do.

With his decision in mind, Sirius stood up and prepared for what he was going to do after he changed while trying to once again forget that painful memory.

<°><°><°><°>

Inside of a flower shop, a young girl was arranging her flowers while with a silent smile on her face. As she moved the last lily to it's former spot, the door to the shop opened.

"Hi! What can I get for you?" She turned around and greeted with her smile before a surprise look over shadowed her face. "Sirius?! What are you doing here!?"

"Hey sis, it's been a long time huh?" Sirius chuckled as he walked into the door. He observed the place for a little before giving a close eye nod. "You kept this place as beautiful and clean as last time, I'm impressed."

"Sirius, is that you?" A feeble voice spoke behind the lady. She turned around and shouted in astounishment, "Grandma!"

Sirius however didn't react as big as his sister did and showed a smile to his grandmother. "Yup it's me, your beloved grandson. I'll be here all morning so you can throw me any work you want like last time."

"Oh my, I can't do that! I'm sure you're busy seeing as the war had just ended." The old woman protested, "I can't bear to watch my grandson over work himself! Look at how your handsome face has gone bad by eye bags!"

"I'm not old grandma, I'm perfectly capable of handling this amount of work I'm sure." The man laughed seeing his grandma worry over him again.

"Nonsense! You should stop lying in front of everyone, especially in front of your family! You need rest and I will get that darn black army king to give you some myself if you don't do it yourself!" The old woman said angrily. She stepped closer towards Sirius and gave a cross look towards him, "I want you to promise that the next time you come is when you have gotten proper rest, understood?"

"Yes grandma, I understand." Sirius nodded and tried to stifle his laughter. However, the man was certain he didn't look tired at all before he went out his room. Was the dream he had infecting him or was his family just really good at finding out how he really felt?

Before he could find the answer, the door to the shop opened again. Footsteps walked up to where his sister was and when he wanted to turn around, he froze when a familiar voice asked her, "Excuse me, can I get all the flowers as I requested?"

It can't be

Sirius was froze in his place hearing that voice again. He hadn't heard that voice since the war but he remembered it well, the voice of a friend he cherished long ago and still does now but in comparison to last time, he felt his heart ache hearing that man speak with that cold tone that he never had when they were back in school. He didn't want to move from his spot and turn around only to be met with that cold stare of his former friend.

"Sirius, can you help out taking all the flowers into the king's carriage?" His sister called out.

"What?" Sirius turned around instantly and as he guessed, saw Lancelot standing not too far away but with a surprised face instead of a cold stare. Lancelot was wearing casual clothes, showing that he wasn't here for work but that only raised more questions. Why was he here? Why was he shocked to? Why does his sister look so unfazed with the enemy's king coming to visit them?

"Yoohoo, Sirius. Can you stop only staring at the Red King's face and help just as you said you would?" His sister snapped him out of his thoughts and pouted. She was already holding a bouquet of roses in her arms with a bunch more standing behind her.

"R-Right, sure." Sirius answered with a robotic tone before grabbing more bouquets in his arms to transport into the carriage outside.

He heard his sister sigh and the male turned around to hear what she said before he left. "I'm sorry but we don't have as many roses as you wanted like you asked for in your letter. There should be more by next week unless you need it now urgently in which case, I can appoint you to another florist in Central Quarter if you do."

"That's fine, I didn't expect you to have as many roses as I stated in such a short notice." Lancelot shook his head as an apology. An internal conflict seem to rage in his mind before he spoke again with a sad smile on his face. "Besides, I promised to get all the flowers here to show them off. I heard your flowers were very beautiful from a friend of mine and it really is as beautiful as he said."

The girl didn't seem to notice the sad tone under those words and replied back without a clue. "Oh, we're all flattered thank you very much! We can load all the other flowers another day since we only have one or two dozen here now so I hope that isn't a problem. Your friend is such a nice person."

"Well I'm old now so I can't tend to these flowers as much as back then but I'm glad the king from the other side appreciates flowers too. I'm glad what people said about you isn't true at all," the grandmother gave a sweet smile before turning away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave all this work to the youngsters. Join us for some tea next time perhaps, King of Hearts."

"Sure," he gave a curt reply before observing the flower shop.

The old woman chuckled before leaving behind the flower shop. The young lady had already gone out with a bunch of bouquets in her arms, leaving the two men inside the shop alone.

The silence was deafening and the air was growing more tense the longer the two stood at their respective places. Once again, Lancelot broke the silence between them.

"I send a letter as promised, so where are all my flowers you promised to give me in a day?" He asked with dry humour. The tone he spoke in was equal to that of a king requesting an audience with a demanding manner but Sirius knew his friend long enough to know that his friend probably didn't even notice it.

"I thought you had forgotten. It was so long ago," Sirius retaliated and tried to regulate his heartbeat to a normal speed again. Trying to make the atmosphere less awkward, he replied, "You also said you would arrive here majestically but all you did was take a carriage so I'm allowed to break one of the rules too."

"I suppose I did so I can forgive that mistake but I expected more roses by the end of the month of even better, next week. All your other flowers have to be by the end of the year." Lancelot turned to meet Sirius's eyes and for a moment, his lips twitched before a grin was presented. "But the conflict has ended so I can arrive majestically on my horse the next time I come, is that what you want?"

This time, it was Sirius's turn to smile. "If you do, I'll make sure you have so many flowers that your horse won't be able to carry all of it at once and make it back to the Red Army. I hope your horse is strong enough to hold all the flowers I'll be giving you."

"Are you underestimating my horse? I trained it well and I can guanrantee that it'll definitely not disappoint so bring it on; or do you perhaps doubt me?" Lancelot teased and his smile grew wider with those words that came out.

"Of course not," Sirius recalled the words he spoke in his dream and smirked at the king. "If it's you, I believe you can do it."

Lancelot seem to recognise those words too since his eyes softened and showed not the demeanour of a king that he usually showed, but the demeanour of a friend talking to another friend.

"I hope you don't disappoint me then, old friend." The king smirked as well to the man in front of him and for the first time since forever, the two shared a laugh that let out their bottled up feelings and let them be themselves think of each other as friends again.

[landofmisfitfics]

Irresistible - Gavin X Reader

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Gavin Reed X Reader

Summary: Gavin’s caught some feelings for the reader. Requested by @xxperfectionisdeadlyxx (thank’s for sending in the first request! The ball is officially rolling!)

Word Count: 2,672 (I got a little carried away...)

Notes: This is the first thing I’ve written and finished in quite some time, so it’s a lot shaky. Well, that plus I’ve had one hell of a week between classes, homework, and practice, and whole lot of not sleeping (I absolutely did some self-projection, whoops). I plan on improving, though, so there’s that. Gavin is also probably ooc in some places simply because I’m still getting the hang of getting back into writing. It’s also worth mentioning that I a hc that he blushes pretty obviously whenever he gets flustered. Okay, it’s half past midnight, I’m a little loopy, and I plan on reading this over to fix my mistakes in the morning. Er- later morning.

Warnings: swearing; I believe the reader is gender neutral, which isn’t a warning, but correct me if I’m wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Is it casual Friday or somethin’?”

The sudden voice had startled you, that much was obvious as you gasped out a squeak, spine going ramrod straight, and one fist coming into position to strike a mean punch. It took a few moments of blinking blearily for you to realize that you weren’t in danger. No, it was just your asshole partner staring down at you with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed rather cockily across his chest.

“God, you scared me,” you murmured, running your hands down your face.

“No shit.”

Peeking from between your fingers, you managed to shoot a tired glare at your partner. Why was he at the precinct so early, anyway? The sun hadn’t yet risen and it would be a few hours until anyone showed up for work. Well, anyone but you. And Gavin, apparently.

“Why the hell are you even here?” you grumbled, glancing at the clock on your terminal. 5:47 am.

“I get here early every Wednesday. I go for a run, then come here to shower and do my reports.” Gavin rolled his eyes as if this was supposed to be some well-known fact. Sure, the fact that he saved all his reports for one day of the week wasn’t exactly surprising with the amount he didn’t do during normal work hours, but expecting you to know his exercise routine was ridiculous.

“The better question,” he continued, “is why the hell are you here? And what are you wearing?”

You grabbed the cuffs of your over-sized hoodie in each hand, irrationally offended that his scathing tone of voice was directed at your favorite sweatpants and your comfiest sweatshirt. “Bold word from a man wearing tight shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top,” you snarked. “And I’m here because I never left,” you managed through a yawn. “I wasn’t gonna wear my work clothes longer than I had to, hence the loungewear.”

Gavin moved so he was sitting on the corner of your desk, his arms remaining crossed. “You’re telling me you’ve been here all night?”

“Yep,” you replied as you made a disgruntled attempt to move some papers out from under your partner’s leg to no avail.

“Why the fuck would you want to stay here?”

“Move your fucking leg and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me and maybe I’ll move my fucking leg.”

With an annoyed sigh and an utterance of “whatever, asshole,” under your breath, you abandoned your papers and leaned back in your chair. “It’s not like I was gonna sleep if I went home, so I just stayed. I figured it would be more productive if I just didn’t go home!” you huffed, face contorting into a childish pout.

There was a moment where Gavin just quirked his brow quizzically, but a look of realization crossed his face soon after. “I’m assuming that our last case is the reason you’re not sleeping and it’s not just some sadistic habit?”

At his words you suddenly found yourself flinching away from your own memories of tracking down your suspect, only to arrive three-and-a-half minutes too late to save the three people she had dismembered. Your avoidance of his gaze would tell him that he was exactly right, but you were too tired to care.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Reed reached a foot out to nudge at your leg in an uncharacteristic moment of compassion, his voice soft and sincere.

“Debatable,” you murmured. Had you not been so disturbed by the images flashing through your head, you might have picked up on the fact that your partner, the infamous heartless dick, might have had something of a soft side to him. Instead, you preoccupied yourself with clasping your hands together and digging the nail of your thumb into your opposite hand in hopes that the dull pain would distract you from your own thoughts.

“Alright, well,” Gavin moved suddenly, pushing himself to his feet and handing you the file that was previously trapped under his thigh in one swift movement, “if you’re gonna just sit here and wallow, I’m gonna go take that shower.” He paused for a moment, giving you one last glance over before he walked away. “You better be done with this whole sadness shit by the time I come back.”

There was the prick you knew! Always equipped with a scornful comment, he was. You couldn’t help the subtle upturn in the corners of your mouth at his utter predictability.

You managed to get in a solid fifty minutes of work done before Gavin returned from the locker room, clad in his usual jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. His hair was still wet, as evidenced by the fact that it had begun to drip on you when he stood next to you.

Looking up to see what he wanted, you were more than surprised to find him holding out a cup of coffee for you. It was so unlike him to do something for someone else without an ulterior motive that you couldn’t help but blink dumbly, first at the mug in front of you, then at the man himself. “You-- you brought me coffee?”

“Look, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want it,” he snapped. “I just figured you could use it. Just ‘cause we’re partners doesn’t mean I’ll pick of your workload if you fall asleep on me,” he snapped

Although he sounded annoyed with you, the slight blush gracing his cheeks told you otherwise. He probably thought you thought he was weird or something.

“No! I want the coffee!” you backtracked. Your cold fingers wrapped around the hot mug as you carefully took it from his grip and took swig of the liquid energy. “I’m just a dumbass when I’m tired, alright? Don’t read too much into it.”

Gavin moved from your side in favor of sitting at his own desk. “You’re always a dumbass,” he smirked, an unfamiliar teasing lilt in his voice.

“Oh, fuck you, Reed,” you laughed over the rim of your mug.

“You wish, Y/N!”

“You wish I wished!”

The two of you shared a moment of quiet amusement before making an unspoken agreement to get started on your reports (or get back to writing your reports, in your case).

You worked in amiable silence for a few hours before you got up to retrieve a change of clothes that were more suitable for work from your locker and Gavin got up to go make more coffee. Then there was some friendly banter back at your desks just as the first few of your coworkers began to arrive. From there, it wasn’t long before the place was full of the usual morning hustle and bustle and it was back to work as normal.

It wasn’t until the mid-afternoon that the morning’s events fully settled into your mind. Gavin Reed not being a complete and utter dick? Either he was one hell of a morning person or he wasn’t quite the devil spawn you had previously thought him to be. Huh. Okay. You certainly weren’t opposed to this change in behavior.

You were just beginning to come to terms with Gavin not being a complete ass when Connor stopped by your desk.

“Detective,” the android greeted politely.

“Hey, Connor! What can I do for you?” you smiled, turning your chair to face him.

“You can go home, for starters.”

“Pardon?” Through your confused gaze you caught your partner looking up from his work, his gaze instead flitting between you and Connor,  in your periphery.

“Judging by your caffeine intake, persistent yawning, and inability to concentrate, you are suffering from sleep deprivation. I checked the overnight security footage of the precinct and found my suspicions to be correct: you have not slept in over twenty-four hours.”

Connor stared at you expectantly, as if he wanted you to explain yourself, or perhaps try to deny his claim. Instead, you returned his stare, elements of shock and embarrassment shining in your eyes as your mouth opened and closed like a fish’s as you tried to figure out what to say. After all, he was incredibly intelligent and had proof, so you couldn’t exactly refute his words.

After a few long moments of silence on your part, your partner decided to cut in. “Mind your business, you plastic prick.” His voice was cold and his gaze even icier as he stared at the RK800. 

You found yourself even more lost for words. Maybe you had been too quick to jump to conclusions when you said Gavin wasn’t a dick. But... was that him trying to stand up for you? God, what was happening?

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the conflicting thoughts colliding in your brain, your attention was brought back to Connor as he spoke again.

“My apologies, Y/N, if I overstepped a boundary. I simply worry about your well-being,” he said, sending the briefest of glances in Gavin’s direction.

“No, it’s okay, Connor,” you reassured him, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend and you’re just trying to look out for me. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You sent a pointed look at Reed as you said those last words, hoping he would get the message that you didn’t appreciate him insulting your friend.

Connor smiled, happy that you weren’t upset with him. “I’ve spoken to Captain Fowler,” he continued. “You’ve been cleared to go home early and get some rest.”

You wanted to argue, to say that you were fine to finish the workday, but the rational part of you knew he was absolutely right. You were exhausted and you had stopped making headway on your work hours ago. It wasn’t until you involuntarily released a face-splitting yawn, though, that you finally concerned.

“Alright. No need to tell me twice,” you chuckled, gathering your jacket from the back of your chair and standing up. “Thank you, Connor,” you smiled, gently patting his arm.

“Of course,” he responded. “Take care of yourself, Detective.”

With a nod to Connor and a quick wave to Gavin, you were gone walking out of the building.

After leaving work, you had quite the relaxing day. You still weren’t quite able to sleep, but you had managed to finish a book, catch up on your favorite TV show, and cook yourself a good dinner. By the time the sun sank behind the clouds and ten o’clock rolled around, you were pretty content with life.

And then there was a knock at your door.

What the hell? Who would be at your door this late?

Upon opening the door you were surprised to find the one and only Gavin Reed.

“Uh... hi?” you managed, eyes wide in shock.

“You opened your door at ten o’clock at night without knowing who was on the other side? Have you learned nothing from this job?” Gavin scolded as he entered your house without waiting to be invited in.

To his annoyance you weren’t processing what he had just said, instead opting to ask, “How do you know where I live?”

“Found it in your file,” he shrugged.

“Okay,” you said, mind still reeling, “now why the hell did you need to know where I live?”

Gavin seemed to freeze up for a moment. “Shit, you didn’t get my text?” he asked.

“Uh... no.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, furiously swiping at the screen for a moment before his eyes widened and his cheeks began to flush. “Well, uh, it basically said that I was gonna come over to make sure you actually went to sleep tonight and told you to let me know if you had any objections to that. I took your lack of response to mean you were okay with it, but, um...” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I guess I forgot to actually send the text.” He met your gaze sheepishly, usual smirk replaced with a grimace as he held out his phone to show you the unsent message.

Maybe the lack of sleep was messing with your emotions a little bit, but you swore you could feel a tug of something within your chest. Your partner, who maybe was secretly not an asshole, had gone to the trouble to check up on you when you got out of work rather than go to his own home and do... whatever he normally did. Maybe it was a little odd, but you could acknowledge that his heart was in the right place.

“Alright,” you said slowly, shutting the front door and moving further into your house.

“Alright?” he asked. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah.”

Gavin visibly relaxed. Was he really that worried you were going to be upset with him? His recent change in behavior was somewhat alarming, but not unwelcome.

“I do have one more question, though.”

“What is it?”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of the sudden?”

Freezing once again, the blush returned to Gavin’s face with a vengeance, spreading all the way to his neck this time. “The fuck are you talking about?” he asked, cringing at the way his voice rose an octave.

You simply raised a brow in response. ���Okay, let’s see, there was the coffee this morning, then you were joking around with me instead of bitching like usual, I think you were trying to defend me or something when you yelled at Connor, and now you’re-” your voice cut out as you flailed your arms in exasperated confusion for a moment, “-you’re showing up at my house to make sure I go to sleep?”

“Jeez, if you’re that upset about it, I’ll stop!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

“Gavin, that’s not what I meant,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m just confused, is all. We’ve already established that I’m a dumbass when I’m tired, so if there’s some obvious answer here, I’m not seeing it.”

“I like you, alright?” he shouted.

Your words died in your throat and all your thoughts ground to a halt. He liked you? That is what he had just said, right? Or did you just hear him wrong?

“I like you,” he repeated, the bite in his voice now gone. “You can laugh at me now. Go ahead, do it.” He turned his head away from you, arms coming up to cross self-consciously over his chest. His posture was awkward and uncomfortable and he suddenly regretted is stupid idea to come to your place.

Your heartstrings pulled taught as you watched him. He really did like you, you hadn’t just misheard him. Well, he had proven to be unexpectedly sweet and he wasn’t bad-looking, either. It would suffice to say you were willing to give this... whatever it was... a chance.

“I- I’m not gonna laugh at you.” Your voice was soft as you bridged the gap between the two of you.

Gavin didn’t move, but his eyes flicked to meet yours. They narrowed the longer he looked, suspicion beginning to shine in is irises. “You’re not?” he finally asked.

You shook your head, smiling gently up at him. “I’m not opposed to you liking me. I might even... have some feelings of my own,” you admitted.

As soon as the words were out of your mouth it was like a switch had flipped. Suddenly Gavin was back to his normal, cocky self. “Well, I am pretty irresistible,” he grinned.

You returned his grin with an accompanying playful punch to his arm. “Oh shut up!” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“Gavin Reed, I swear to god-”

“You know it’s true,” he laughed. “Watch I’ll prove it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. See, I’m gonna ask you on a date- say, we go get lunch together tomorrow- and you’re gonna say...?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you responded with a lighthearted “I’d love to!”

“See, I’m irresistible!”

“Shut up, Reed.”

“Only if you make me.”

[flashingcursor]

Fic: Tell Me You’re Joking

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Loki Rating: Teen. Warnings: No powers AU. Word Count: 3,994 Square Filled: Blind Date. Summary: Darcy and Loki haven’t had a date in a while for various reasons. Jane and Thor think they’d be perfect together so they set them up.  A/N: @marvelfluffbingo Alright so like with my last bingo card I thought I’d kick things off with some Tasertricks. Ironically, anonymous had prompted Tasertricks - Blind date in my ask around summer 2018 when I last opened my ask to prompts. So why not? This also serves as a fill for my fluffbingo card on Dreamwidth with the prompt first date. I got a three in one hit go me.  Somehow in the writing of this oneshot and AU, Darcy became Tony Stark’s daughter. Which is a trope I kind of dig in Darcyland, I just never had a story that lent well to that particular line of thought. 

Fill for my First Date prompt on my Fluff Bingo Card. Marvel Fluff Bingo Masterlist Read on AO3

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Darcy bursts when Jane finishes.

“What do you mean?” Jane asks with a confused look for her friend's disbelieving response.

“You set me up?” The intern starts, “On a blind date with your boyfriend’s younger brother?” The disdain drips from her voice as she enunciates each word.

She loves Jane don’t get her wrong. Loves that the astrophysicist is happy with her hulking blond beefcake of a man. He helps drag Jane from the lab at decent hours, though both have terrible eating habits no matter what happens. Both her and Thor are all too content to live on processed sugar and coffee and it makes Darcy’s stomach churn at the thought.

“When you say it like that it actually sounds sort of bad. But he’s exactly your type and you’ve both been having terrible luck on the dating front.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at her friend. “Terrible luck on the dating front?” She says the words slowly, maybe they would sink in for the older woman on the other side of the lab.

“You can’t tell me Ian was a good idea in retrospect,” Jane breathes putting her work aside for the first time in the whole conversation, her work forgotten. Boss lady wasn’t going to like that she was going to need to rerun the model she set up, but it serves her right for dropping a bomb like this on Darcy.

“Not the point. Maybe I’m happy in singletown right now.”

“Are you happy in ‘singletown’?” The air quotes clear in her voice.

“Happier in singletown than I will be on that date you set up for me.”

“Just go, give it a try. If you don’t enjoy yourself, I will let you boss me into eating and sleeping without complaint.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at her, “Can I have that in writing?” 

“Brother, I have wonderful news,” Thor boasts entering the library in their family estate.

Loki places his thumb between the pages of the book he was reading and glances toward his older brother and eyebrow raised in question. Thor had a hard time keeping things to himself when he was in such an exuberant mood. If he didn’t say anything and just let him speak, his brother would explain why he was so pleased with himself.

“You aren’t going to ask me what it is?” Thor asks when the silence stretches too long.

“You asked Jane to marry you and she said yes,” Loki responds flatly.

“Not yet, but mother helped me secure reservations for dinner next month at The Skyline.” Thor’s shoulders droop a little that Loki would think he’d jump so far ahead of himself when there was still so much to plan for the proposal. Shaking his head, he smiles at the slim dark-haired young man waiting.

The younger son of Odin can feel a headache forming. His brother can be a bit dense at the best of times. He was also capable of sharing the intelligence of a rock at the worst. But in the years since childhood and the transition into adulthood, Thor had grown greatly. His selfishness tempered, his cruelty near entirely erased after Odin nearly cut him off two years ago. For almost two years Thor had to live like the average citizens of the United States and find a way to make it work. It had done wonders for his older brothers’ temperament, he’d even gained a surprising amount of wisdom.

“Shall I start guessing then?” he asks replacing his thumb with a bookmark and setting the book on the coffee table, his expression bland. He’s glad Thor is so happy in his relationship with Dr. Jane Foster. As it is he’s still amazed the woman has managed to outlast Sif’s passive-aggressive attempts to drive her away and their mother’s false sweetness in the early months of their courtship.

“No need. You have a date in a week with Jane’s best friend.” Thor explains looking pleased with this development.

Loki blinks owlishly at the hulking at his brother, a date? With Jane’s best friend?

“And I am to do what exactly?” He wishes he could summon the energy to be annoyed, all he can summon, however; is bewilderment. HIs happy self-centered to a fault brother was setting him up with his girlfriends closest friend.

“Go on a date,” Thor says it slowly as if the meaning is obvious.

“No.”

“Brother, please!”

“I said no. I have no interest in having my older brother find me dates. I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

He doesn’t wait for Thor to try to convince him, Loki sweeps by him intending to leave the library. Instead of walking past as he normally would though, Thor catches his wrist and pulls him up short. His eyebrows raised at  Loki's claim as if to say they both knew his words for the lie it is. Not that he would say as much aloud after his time away.

“Just meet the girl. If it doesn’t work out, you’re free to leave.” Thor gives him his best beseeching look and Loki’s frown deepens. Like their father, he doesn’t explain why it is so important that he go on the date. Knowing the happy couple, he was likely to be Thor’s best man at the wedding and if she is as close to Jane as Thor says, she’d be the maid of honor. Pinching the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply, he is in no mood for the lovebirds playing matchmaker.

He might be known for spinning tales and crafty stories to get what he wanted or manipulate others, but he had nothing on Thor’s earnest manipulations. The way he made you want to do what he was asking because it would do nothing more than make him happy. It worked best on their mother and Sif, and Loki had thought he’d long ago grown immune to the look. Apparently, that was not the case as he sighs.

“Fine. Where am I to meet this girl?”

Thor beams as he rattles off the address for a chain restaurant that skirted the line of middle-class fancy and casual and Loki wonders if he just agreed to some horrible punishment for some prank Thor finally realized he pulled. His green eyes narrow at his brother. He looks far too pleased with his acquiescence to the request. That never bodes well in the long term.

"If you think I’m going to like her you’re sorely mistaken.” Loki snaps.

“Of course, I would never think such a thing. I just wish to see you have a good time away from your books for one evening.” Thor agrees his mouth spread into an amused grin as he walks away, hands folded behind his back. 

 In the end, Jane does put their agreement in writing, Darcy will have free reign in determining the length of lab activities for a week if she doesn’t have a good time on her blind date. Once the agreement is carefully filed away in Darcy’s shoulder bag, she tilts her head at Jane.

“So how am I going to know his brother from every other Joe Schmoo in the place?” She asks.

She made it a rule when Thor and Jane started dating that she wasn’t allowed to google anything about Thor’s family. The general idea is that if she didn’t look them up in the media, she would be able to develop an opinion of the hulking blond that made her friend blush like a school girl on a regular basis. For the most part, that rule has worked perfectly well for Darcy. Overall, she finds Thor to be a good guy, a little goofy, somewhat ridiculous, and very larger than life in attitude and action, but a good guy.

“I forgot you haven’t seen a family photo. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a rose and a favorite book, I will probably be okay with it,” she flips through a few pages of notes only half seeing the scribbled contents, “And just how fancy is this place going to be? Like do I need to buy a new dress for the occasion or is the black number I wear to faculty cocktail parties going to be fine?”

Jane makes a vague grunt of acknowledgment which means she’s already back in work mode. Sighing Darcy settles in for long hours of transcription and data entry. Her friend would get back to her eventually. As things stand now she's leaning toward her black cocktail dress. Knowing Jane and Thor they were going somewhere nice but also low-key. Her cocktail dress was perfect.

  A week after agreeing to the insane idea of taking Jane’s best friend to dinner, Loki pauses in his research to find a slew of texts waiting for him on his cell phone. The notification light flashing a brilliant green demanding his attention. Giving up on ignoring it, he picks up his phone and checks his texts. All of them from his brother.

How would you prefer Darcy recognize you? Brother? Loki are you there? Loki this isn’t funny.

Sighing heavily Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. Did no one respect the workload of a Ph.D. student? He had work to do, there wasn’t time to be discussing how he was going to reveal himself to Darcy. The entire date wasn’t important enough to warrant so much of his attention. Frustrated that Thor was so insistent about the whole thing, Loki responds with the first thing that comes to mind.

I’ll bring her a rose and one of my books. At least if it turns out to be terrible, I can get some work done.

Perhaps something else? She explicitly said she would prefer not to have such items used to identify you.

Then maybe she should pick how I’ll identify her.

Jane says she’ll be wearing a black cocktail dress and a gold necklace with a jade pendant.

The colors catch Loki’s attention. He’s always preferred black, gold, and green. At that thought his eyes narrow at his cell phone. His long fingers typing out another message to his brother.

Did you tell Jane what colors Darcy should wear?

No.

Truth.

I did not. She picked them herself.

For a moment he stares at his phone unsure of what to say. She picked those colors herself. No coaching. It could mean she liked them herself, it wouldn’t be strange. Plenty of people liked those colors together. But it felt too pointed to be natural. Not that it stopped him from trying to visualize what she would look like in them.

Very well. Tell Jane I’ll meet Darcy out front at 7 pm sharp.

Of course.

He can almost hear Thor’s pleasure in those two words, and it makes him scowl as he returns to his work. Twenty-four hours to go and he would find out just what made his brother think this girl would be a good match for him. And probably prove how wrong he was.

  On the day of the date, Jane somehow manages to wrap up on her own. She nearly forces Darcy from the lab, with some half-baked excuse that she had dinner plans with Thor that she couldn’t miss. The harried actions and the way she wouldn’t meet Darcy’s eyes when she asked why she hadn’t told her about this date spoke volumes. Jane wanted her out of the lab and getting ready for her date. Heaving a heavy sigh, Darcy packs up more to humor her friend than over any excitement for her approaching date.

The actual process of getting ready seems to drag by. Setting up your friends on blind dates when they aren’t actively looking for someone to date takes all of the fun out of getting ready. The usual excitement missing, there are no flutters in her stomach making the whole process robotic and she finishes a full hour before she needs to leave. It’s enough to make Darcy think she shouldn’t get excited about dates at all if it makes her hair and make-up cooperate for once.

Her hair styled into careful waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes rimmed in thick black lines of eyeliner that wing at the outer corners of her eyes. She's looking fine if Darcy does say so herself.

She paces her apartment after that. Thumbnail between her teeth as she attempts to reign in the desire to chew on the nail. Her frustration with the whole situation serving to make her stomach twist. Not helping.

Going into the kitchen she gets a glass and pulls a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge.

“I could stay home, tell Jane I got sick.” She mutters to herself as she fills the glass halfway with the soda. Her eyes flicking to the amber liquid in thought. It wouldn’t be a complete lie if she texted right now. She did feel terrible and it wasn’t nerves.

Taking a sip, she leans a hip against the counter, “If I do blow him off I’ll never hear the end of it.”

God, she was losing it if she was debating herself in her kitchen. Draining the glass, she sets it down and goes to get her purse. If she has time to act like a crazy person, she has time to leave and give it a try. She has an agreement to enforce, and she's looking forward to bossing Jane around for thinking she needs help getting a date.

Pulling out her phone she pulls up the messaging app.

Call me fifteen minutes into the date to give me a convenient out. I will not forgive you if you don’t.

You sure about that kid?

Very.

How will I know you don’t need it?

I won’t answer.

Fair enough.

Satisfied that her “dad” would help for once, she shoves her phone back into her purse and leaves. It was better than the endless memes he sent about the blind date for the last week. She doesn’t know how Pepper puts up with him sometimes, but she gives the woman credit for it every day. That woman is a god damn saint in Darcy’s book.

  Loki sweeps across the sidewalk outside the restaurant for the fifth time. She’s late. He’s watched no less than fifteen couples go inside and six different women. None of them wearing a black cocktail dress with a gold necklace and jade pendant. He swears if she stands him up after he actually showed up (with minimal cajoling from his brother at that), he is going to be livid.

“If you’re Loki I deserve a refund just for showing up,” a voice states with a click of heels.

“You’re late,” he shoots back as he turns to look at the speaker.

He isn’t struck by her beauty. Nothing so mundane. She’s pretty, she put effort into her hair and make-up. She’s shorter than he imagined given his brother's stories, but the heels help close the otherwise large gap in their height. Her necklace rests peacefully on her chest the jade pendant stopping just above her ample cleavage. His gaze quickly shifts up before she can correct him. Something about the way she’s standing with hand on jutted hip screams she would in less than a heartbeat.

“What were you doing timing me?” She asks her lips twitching like they want to form into a smirk.

“It doesn’t matter, shall we?”

She gives the restaurant a once over and shrugs, “May as well.”

Her easy nonchalance comes as a surprise. Based on her greeting he would think she didn’t want to be there any more than he did. But the way she heads for the door like a woman on a mission, he comes up behind her and pulls the door open a little wider as they press into the lobby.

“You have a back-up plan don’t you," he presses a little closer than strictly necessary to whisper in her ear.

“Of course, I do. You probably do too. You scream planner.” She replies stepping to the hostess station, “Hi we uh called ahead under Odinson.”

The hostess looks relieved and her smile goes from polite disinterest to genuine. “Of course, it’ll be about ten minutes.”

“Cool thanks,” Darcy replies and turns to come nose to chest with her date. Her eyebrows rising in curiosity as she tilts her head back. She bites back the sassy comment about getting too close. The lobby was quite full so she was willing to give him a little wiggle room.

“I scream planner?”

“Don’t get offended. Every family has to have at least one. Though based on stories, the only one that doesn’t really plan in your family is Thor.”

“He does have a way of running headlong into everything.”

“That he does. Do you,” she waves her hand between them, her fingers grazing the soft dark material of his button down as she does, to illustrate he should move.

“Sorry.” He takes a step back.

“Mhm.”

Darcy walks away and takes a seat on the bench along the wall as they wait.

“What’s your back up plan?” He asks after she’s settled.

She grins leaning back into the cushion of the seat. He can’t help but return it, her attitude is almost infectious. She might be unhappy about the arrangement as he is, but she seems to enjoy toying with him. Add that she has a plan to escape the situation much as he does, doesn’t even seem to mind that he does, and Loki is suddenly much more intrigued by her. More than he was when she walked up.

“Is this one of those ‘I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours’ situations, because honestly, that tends to go over better when I’ve had a couple of drinks and have a decent buzz going. Remind me to stop feigning enjoyment for Jane and Thor when they drag me to burger joints.”

“Stop feigning enjoyment when Jane and my brother drag you for burgers,” he responds, she laughs, and it isn’t one of those ‘wow-that’s-so-lame’ kind of laughs. He amused Darcy by responding with equal amounts of sass as she gives.

Either way she doesn’t respond at first, and Loki remains quiet. He can wait out his most stubborn tutors and professors, he can wait out one young woman that his brother is fond of and routinely refers to as his sister. The prolonged silence doesn’t appear to faze her at first, but after a couple minutes of them staring at each other and then pretending not to look at each other at all, she starts to fidget. Her hands go from her lap to her hair, to sitting on the bench at her thigh, back to her lap, and finally crossing her arms under her breasts when the hostess call them.

“Odinson, party of two.” The hostess announces and Darcy is on her feet, brown hair swaying about her shoulders as she crosses the small lobby to the hostess station once more.

The hostess smiles at them and leads them to a table in the back, the lights just far enough away to create a romantic atmosphere. There’s a small tealight on the table already lit and flickering as the hostess places their menus across from each other on the table.

“Your server tonight will be Angela and she’ll be right with you,” the hostess states before leaving them to figure out what comes next on their own.

Darcy starts shrugging out of her dark coat.

“Let me help you,” Loki offers moving behind her he takes her coat from her and hangs the coat on the hook at the top of the booth before she can protest. His own follows a moment later and he slides into the far side of the booth. His back to the rest of the patrons his head cocked to the side waiting. His mouth turned up into a cocky smirk as she studies him.

“Keep that up and I may reevaluate my desire for a refund,” she quips taking the open seat across from him.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“And if it is?”

He leans forward until the table stops him and his smirk widens considerably, “Consider it accepted.”

Her eyes widen and he watches how she swallows like something he just said was particularly enticing. Too bad there was a table firmly between them. He wouldn't mind discovering how else she might react to him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance as her phone starts ringing. A low gravely almost computer sounding voice growls ‘I am Iron Man’ as guitars start in the background. His brow furrows in confusion as she pulls the device out of her purse and clicks a button on the side before laying it face down on the table, silent once more.

“Do you need to get that?” He asks leaning back.

“Back up plan.” She says simply with a shake of her head as their server comes up.

“Hi, I’m Angela and I’ll be server today. Can I start you with anything to drink?” The perky blond server asks.

Darcy has a bemused expression as she orders without ever taking her gaze from Loki’s, “Water with lime please.”

“Coffee please.”

“Alright, I’ll go put these in and give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.” The server leaves and Loki tilts his head at Darcy.

“Your back-up plan was to get a phone call fifteen minutes after we were supposed to meet?”

Darcy is starting to answer when his own phone starts ringing. His cheeks flushing as he works to get it silenced before it disturbs the dining room. Perfect timing.

“Need to get that?” Darcy asks a self-satisfied smile plastered to her face as she leans back.

“It’s just an alarm.” He hisses as the ringing goes silent.

“I’m sure. So are you going to bolt on me or are we both in agreement to see what happens next?”

“Let’s see what happens next, shall we? I’d to be accused of not giving things a legitimate chance.” He pauses as their serve returns with their drinks.

They ask for a few more minutes before ordering. Loki leaning forward in his seat and Darcy does the same her grin mirroring the one he can feel splitting his face. She is beautiful he realizes once he stops trying to dismiss her. Now that he’s paying attention instead of thinking about his thesis project. And if he was gauging her reaction correctly just as much interested in a little payback at her friends as he was.

“What do you say to telling them that it was a terrible date?”

“Sounds like an idea I can get behind.”

“Excellent.”

Dinner goes well. As they eat the pair plan all the ways they plan to convince Thor and Jane that it was a horrible experience. They start simple, keeping the beginnings as close to what happened as possible. Mixing truth with fiction was the easiest way to remember a lie, a fact he was pleased to see that she was already familiar with as they talked.

When they finish, Loki lingers. She lingers. He couldn’t remember feeling quite like this before. The last time a person caught his interest like this was a long time ago. Getting up from the table he picks up her coat and holds it out to her to help her put it on once she stands.

“Can I drive you home?” He asks putting his jacket on.

“No, I’m good, but you can call me tomorrow if you’ll give me your phone.”

“Of course.”

Handing over his phone he watches her type in her phone number and her name. Red-tipped fingers returning his phone to him.

“I’ll do that.”

“You had better mischief. Otherwise, our little prank will be very real.”

“I promise Darcy.”