#because the glass doesn’t match from one retelling to another

[imthecleric]

Ooc: now people think will is Brenner??? I simply cannot with this fandom and their “media literacy”

[dourpeep]

i have even more ideas now...

what about like the moment you open up about your relationship with kazuxiao the fans who were already seeing that happen were celebrating and on both of y'alls insta or something is where you announce and it's like a picture of all 3 of you chilling together or something

and then when they finally appear on a variety show they're just questioned throughly and they talk about how you guys meet and what they like about you

ok but the moments where you just feel sort of insecure since being an idol is hard and you're technically dating your seniors and you're just hit by the antis who are against yourself relationship so you lock yourself in your room in your dorm by yourself to cope. your roommate (can be whoever) contacts them both and they immediately come over and come in and offer soft kisses and soft murmurs of reassurance that they'll never leave you and that everything's gonna be ok.

side note i can see xiao just being a whole meme without realizing?? for like variety shows he's just known for his dead pan expression and then i can see him being so competitive on shows like running man..mans ripping tags left and right, while kazuhas just hiding in a weird spot or something

kazuha on the other hand i can see him being a troll, he likes to mess around with the hosts of the show and manages to mess up some of their plans, he also likes messing with his group members, where xiao likes to say that kazuha looks innocent but is a part of the devil line with venti

onto albedo i can see him like answering questions in his vlive and fans realize that a lot of his songs are more romantic and sort of pining?? and they're asking where the motivation is from. he answers that it's just something that he saw recently so he felt motivated (it wasn't the fact that he had realized that he was 100% in love with you)

but like all of this mans inspiration comes from you, he's had multiple songs dedicated to you before your relationship was even open to the public, and when your relationship finally does, it just clicks for fans and it suddenly makes sense, your ship name trends worldwide for the day

but how you and albedo met, i can see both of you guys being in the industry already and you guys are sort of know each other but it was for a one time off collab with other artists involved so you didn't really talk with each other. like i said before albedos a solo artist while i can see you being a part of a popular group already. but then both of your companies decided to do another collab and especially picked you two since you guys already worked on a collab before.

at first it was like awkward since albedos really socially awkward but then things click when you guys start writing the song together. everything just matches so well?? and you guys just compliment each other?? and that's when you learn of albedo just staying at the studio so late so you often bring food. this leads to you guys getting closer and albedo even stops his work just to talk to you more. when your song comes out and everyone is waiting for the stage, there's just so much tension?? but the good kinda and everyone is awed by the song and the vocals coming from you and albedo.

i can also see the both of you guys appearing on variety shows together too, like appearing on a show where you two travel to another place and experience the culture there, with albedo being your tour guide and showing you all the famous places (one of the many times where fans were awed by his research and knowledge) and then if you guys were to appear together again after you guys reveal your relationship, a lot of the times they show idols as they wake up, they'll see you and albedo being clingy af to each other.

on another side note, albedos totally a troll on variety shows, he likes messing around with the hosts and other contestants since a lot of the time he's not really interested in the show itself, it's more for publicity. however, when he first appeared on a show with you fans noticed that he actually seemed interested for once and that's where your ship name started.

albedos totally a golden child tho, he's like basically perfect in everything so a lot of the times variety shows don't catch him slipping, however the one time that he did was when you were mentioned, the clip of with his ears bright red was trending for a couple of days :)

GIVING ME SO MUCH GOOD FOOD THANK YOU ANON

I think that this covers everything hehehe so I won't add to-

wait wait I put it all under the cut b/c it's a lot again-

Okay okay but like for the 'announcement' picture, what if it's like those photo booth pics (but like each picture you need to scroll through like on Insta) where it's cute and wholesome! The three of you are having fun wearing some silly glasses or hats, doing peace signs or finger hearts....and the very last photo is the three of you sharing a kiss- or, at least trying to.

It's sweet, a little silly, and most of your fans take it really well! After all, they can see the chemistry that you share and can't deny that the three of you would have a good relationship.

As for the insecurities of dating your seniors, Kazuha and Xiao are quick to knock back any of those worries. They love you so, so much and hate the fact that something like that makes you doubt for a single second. If anyone ever tries to bring it up, you know that they're going to immediately quip back.

Naturally, you're roomed with Venven :D He's technically an up-and-coming after he stopped doing idol stuff for a few years, so not only does he know the ropes, but he's also one of your biggest fans and biggest supports (outside of Kazuha and Xiao).

Though he's silly and light-hearted, he's quick to recognize when things are serious and need handling.

So as soon as he sees that you're not doing so great or if he notices the comments on your posts are going in a bad direction, he speed dials Xiao and the two of your boyfriends are right at the door in under 15.

Not only are they fast about it, but they have all your favorite snacks, a movie or two, some popcorn, and a ton of love and affection because they'll be damned if their love is going to be affected by some asshole's comments about their love life! What do they know anyway??

Actually this all could work too if Kazuha and Xiao are part of 4NEMO-

Hmmm

That'd cause so much more ruckus- not only is half of one of the most popular idol groups are taken, but by the same person??? And each other??? Man, that's wack.

BUT THE GAMESHOWS

Xiao would most certainly be super intense with those. He just can't help it--competition drives his blood and makes something snap in him. He's dead serious about doing well, regardless of the game. I actually have never watched said game shows, but--

Like...he's out for blood. No one is safe. Not even you or Kazuha if you're on opposing teams, though he'll be a bit more gentle. Maybe even with the hint of a smile while you have an expression of utter shock at the fact that he's just so fast-

Or if it's not a game show and instead you're doing some sort of idol group activity with a few others to get to know each other?

Someone suggests ping pong and, knowing how competitive Xiao gets, he's pitted up against Tartaglia and man. That's scary. There's no doubt that someone would clip the video and make it into an overly-dramatic retelling complete with music.

Hilarious.

As for Kazuha! He'd be a bit of a mish mosh! He enjoys poking fun at others, and he's so sly! Those poor hosts don't realize that he's goading them on, but sure enough--he is. Who knew that his charming smile and mild-mannered attitude could be so devastating?

But even then, he's mostly wholesome! There's a lot of little clips, mostly of your doing, of him in a 'kiss the chef' apron getting caught off guard while cooking something up. The videos aren't great because you're giggling while recording and he ends up placing the ladle down calmly before wrapping you up in his arms. Half the video ends up being the two of you laughing and joking while it's pointed at a weird angle towards the counter.

Sometimes it'll point just right and you'll get a half-blurred view of Xiao sitting at the kitchen island with his reading glasses perched on his nose and book forgotten. He tends to get up and join in for a few smooches before reminding Kazuha of the food that's still cooking.

--

Albedo!! He absolutely is the golden child. He's fantastic handling things under pressure in a cool, calm manner. Handsome, charismatic, incredibly smart--man's hit all the stops and just keeps going.

It's not until it comes out that the two of you are together that his cool façade (hardly one, though) falters and at the mere mention of you, he'll go soft. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a small smile on his lips, and his blush? Absolutely adorable. How can anyone object when he's obviously so in love with you?

And the idea you mentioned with the two of you traveling and experiencing stuff together sounds so cute (':

He particularly enjoys exploring new cuisine, so expect him to feed you some food from his plate-

There's also a few times where you two have gotten lost in the new places, more because you're both so busy taking in the sights to realize you've taken five wrong turns- But then you make it into a whole adventure, foregoing the map and deciding to wander around. What better way to discover and learn about somewhere than getting lost and wandering?

You find quite a few hidden gems this way since otherwise you'd be hitting more popular areas!

Wait- do they really show idols waking up???

Ahh regardless, Albedo's definitely a cuddler. He loves it, can't get enough of it. It's not often that he gets a good night's rest, but with you it seems like he's fully recharged and ready for the day! It's cute too because it doesn't matter--big spoon or little spoon, you on his chest or him resting on yours. Even a few times with you facing each other with your hands intertwined.

I also agree that Albedo would mess with the game show's hosts and contestants. Not only would he, but he'd be entirely smug about it (after all, we need to have that #smugbedo going on).

No doubt, there's been times where the cameras even focus/zoom in on him where he's sitting because he's got that smirk on his face.

[wizkiddx]

hiii could you do one of tom asking your dad to marry you?? thankuuuuu

okay so I don't believe in boys having to ask the dads, because we are strong independent QUEENS and no man owns me ever, but I hope this is still okay <33

not proof read and written super quick so sorry!

summary: Tom's terrified to ask your dad a very particular question question

///////////////////////////////////////////////

“Mr Y/l/n” Tom called your dads attention from the dishwasher he was loading up. The holidays spent at your parents meant a lot of good things- but mainly food. So much so the dishwasher was almost continually on, just so you didn’t run out of crockery.

“Its Y/d/n Tom, we’ve been through this.” He was joking but with your Dad - Tom could never really tell. At heart your dad was an absolute softie, except no one really saw that except your mum and you. Always a daddies girl, Tom knew how much your dad had meant to you. He had guessed before he’d met you parents , that he would be protective.

And that he was, never frontally rude or cruel. It was more subtle - though to Tom it was very damn clear, he had his doubts. As a people pleaser, Tom didn’t like the fact he didn’t like him. Time and time again, he’d tried to prove just how much you meant to him and yet it seemed to fall on deaf ears. So three years down the line, it was safe to say he was bloody terrified. Heart-in-mouth sort of event. Tom did a lot of ‘terrifying things’: talking to massive studio heads; going on stage with thousands of people screaming; jumping out a plane even.

But no, a single conversation with your dad had his adrenaline going like nobodies business. Asking to marry you.

“You going to just stand their gawking? I hope the moviestar doesn’t make my Y/n do all the housework?”

“No sir I-of course I don’t” Stammering his way through with wide eyes, Tom practically leapt across the kitchen to the opposite side of the dishwasher to your dad. Secretly your Dad was chuckling away to himself, taking absolute delight in how terrified the ‘movie star’ was of him, but managed to keep a steely outershell. In silence, the two uunloaded the dishwasher, Tom desperately racking his brains for conversation starters.

This is what he did for a living, learnt the speech he’d spent hours preparing, then retell it. Why then, was Tom having such an issue with the script he’d arguable practiced the most? Deciding he needed a buffer, Tom went to the safe space of small talk.

“So how was the pub? Y/n said you were meeting some old friends?”

“Watched the match, bloody awful game and Wilks was crap, I don’t know why he even started.” Now this football talk was something Tom felt safe in. He had learnt as much as he could about your dads team - just so there was some mutual conversation.

“Yeh tell me about it, I caught the last half. Though the ref made so bad decisions too, that penalty never really was VAR or not.”

“Thats the most respectable thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

The next couple of minutes were spent with both men raving fanatically, letting all their anger out on the pretty subpar game this afternoon. In fact, Tom swore your dad actually laughed along with him at one point. Admittedly he’d caught himself almost immediately- but for two seconds, he had cracked it.

With the last mug placed in the cabinet, Tom was quite frankly shocked at what your dad said next. He had presumed that since it was late and everyone else was in bed, Y/d/n wouldn’t want quality time with his daughters boyfriend.

“You fancy a nightcap son?”

He’d never called Tom that either. Frankly, you dad preferred the nickname ‘moviestar’ because he knew it infuriated Tom. Made the tips of his ears flush bright red, that was Toms tell - one that your dad had noticed too early on.

Jerkily Tom nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he followed the elder man to the sitting room - where he kept the scotch glasses and bottle. No sooner had the drinks been poured, that Tom practically exploded with his thoughts.

“Mr Y/l/n-sorry I mean Y/d/n I-I um I needed to ask you something.” All he got was a long sigh and a nod, encouraging him to continue. “I-uhm….”Tom scoffed, clearing his throat because all of a sudden it felt like he hadnt had a drink in 10 hours, mouth completely dry.

“Well first off-and all respect. I know I don’t have to ask you. Y/n is the most independent and strong woman and we aren’t living in the 1950s. But, well but she loves you alot.” Tom stressed that last point especially, looking up to your dads poker face. It put him off for moment.

It was just how grumpy he looked, it was bloody terrifying. Taking a big gulp of the malty liquid, Tom steeled himself once again. “ And she respects you, your opinion always matters and I’d never come between that. And Y/n, she likes her traditions right? Like the stupid hat game you all play at Christmas dinner which makes no sense to me? Or the puzzle that you don’t start till everyone’s pretty drunk and tired at 3 o’clock in the morning on christmas? So that is… uhm thats why I’m asking you.”

Again all Tom was met with was a stern gaze, once again taking another generous sip of the scotch.

“Look I know you have your doubts about me- “ That got a response, a snort of agreement from your dad as if saying ‘you think’.

“But-but I really love your daughter. She’s my whole world and I can’t imagine being without her. And I know my lifestyle probably doesn’t fit with how you imagined your daughter to have. I mean-I’m not always at home and I’m away for months but- but…. look.” Tom sighed, shifting awkwardly on the sofa to directly face your dads armchair. “When I’m homesick and tired and grouchy from filming and I get back to the hotel I facetime Y/n. Everyday. And just seeing her smile, you-you know, the really soft small one that makes her dimples pop out? One look at that smile and everythings fine. Because all I’m thinking about is seeing that smile for the rest of my life. When she finds out she’s pregnant with our kid, when we’re taking them to college. I mean even when we’re 80 and probably sick of each other- she’ll still have that little smile that puts me into this sort of stupor. I just- I love her. And I’d do anything for her, I always will, I promise you that. So-so” With a shaky breath, Tom delivered his hitline.

“This is me just letting you know that I’m going to ask her to marry me and- I really hope she says yes.”

Tom was almost out of breath, and the breath he did have was shaky, looking up desperately at the older man across from him. He watched with wide eyes as your Dad placed his glass back on the drinks table with a clink, before leaning forward and standing up from the chair. He groaned slitghtly at the movement (his knees werent what they used to be) and took the two steps forward to be stood right infront of Tom’s seat. In that moment, Tom honestly thought he was getting a punch to the jaw at the very least. Afterall, he had just pretty much demanded that he were to propose to you.

As he braced for impact, tensing all his muscles, instead what he felt was a light pat to his right shoulder. Tom trailed his eyes up your dads figure to see what he thought was a gentle smile on his face too. Though he hadn’t ever seen your Dad smile at him before, so couldn’t say for certainty.

“You’re a good kid Tom, and you make Y/n very happy. Just pull yourself together when you ask her alright son? Didn’t think moviestars got stage fright.” And with that, your dad turned his back, heading toward the doorway that lead to the stairs to the bedrooms. Stunned, it took a moment or two before Tom processed - long enough that he had to leap up and call your dads name to get him to halt in the hallway.

“So is that a yes? You’re giving me permssion?”

“Oh Tom….” Your dad sighed in the lowlight of the hallway, in a more muted voice - now they were closer to the bedrooms where both you and your mum were sleeping peacefully. “ You already said, Y/n is strong and fiercely independent. I don’t control her, heck I don’t think she’s ever listened to me and never will. But…. for the record, I hope she says yes too and… I know she will.”

Scoffing in excitement, Tom combed a hand through his scalp, feeling such a wave of relief it was almost indescribable as your dad turned and trudged up the stairs. Once he heard the door of your parents bedroom close, he couldn’t help himself. He ran back into the kitchen, where he preceded to do an excited jumpy dance thing.

Because it meant a lot. To have your dads approval, to have your dads support. That meant the world. Not only for the sake of proposing but also, everything Tom said was true. He wanted to build a family with you - which meant that man was going to be the grandparents to your kids one day. That man had helped to craft you into the person you were today - his ‘person’. His perfect angelic, sweet woman.

Whenever he felt this excited, this happy, this elated - theres only one person he wants to be with. So, after turning all the lights off and checking the doors were locked (with a very obvious spring in his step) he then hopped up the stairs. Tiptoeing around, he got ready for bed in no time, before getting to the highlight of each evening.

Delicately he crawled into bed, sliding under the covers, so as to not disturb you. Naturally though, feeling the bed dip made you turnover- hooking your legs round his and resting your head on his chest. Tom chuckled quietly at your cuteness, stroking your cheek lightly with his thumb. It was enough to rouse you awake, enough to make you acutely aware of the thundering sound from his chest. With tired eyes, you propped your chin on his breastbone looking up at him with concern.

“You alright T? Hearts really racing.” He only replied with this loopy lovesick grin, his right hand coming to cup your cheek.

“Go back to sleep darling, I’m okay.” He did look okay, but he was almost too smiley and even with a foggy sleepy brain, you were still suspicious.

“Whats going on, you’re being weird?”

“Nothing…. your dad and me just had a chat… He called me son.” That shocked you too - clearly the conversation you’d had with him about being nicer to Tom had rubbed off.

“He did?”

“He did…. you are beautiful you know?” Now he was definitely being weird. You furrowed your eyebrows, as if trying to read his mind because something odd was going on in there.

“Now you’re just being creepy. What’s up?”

Tom just leant forward to kiss your forehead, then pulled you down onto his chest.

“I just love your family and I love you, you know that?”

“Are you trying to get into my pants? Because my parents are literally in the next room.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.”

[hawks-supremacy]

Fairytale Soulmates

summary: you gave up on the idea of soulmate's being real when your parents split up, but the cherry blossom on your wrist says otherwise.

pairings: ushijima x reader

warnings: fighting, yelling, hints at abuse, a little angst, mostly fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: i'm thinking about doing a soulmate series, i just love the idea of soulmates. i also like reading soulmate au's.

You never enjoyed the idea of soulmates, to you it was a fairytale you heard the other kids tell during lunch break. Hearing them retell the stories their parents told about how everyone has a person that was made for them. How people were originally created with four arms and legs and two heads and faces, but fearing their power Zeus split them in half. Now people spend their whole lives looking for their other half. The person that finishes the other half of your soulmate mark. You didn’t believe the stories. Even as your half of a cherry blossom stares up at you from your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe in soulmates, and why should you?

Why should you believe in soulmates when your parents were miserable together. Constantly fighting and yelling, often ending the night in tears. If soulmates were real then why were you the result of two people who didn't love each other unconditionally like soulmates were supposed to. Why were your parents so unhappy just because they weren’t soulmates? If you couldn’t find your soulmate were you destined to be unhappy? All of your questions went unanswered as your parents avoided the topic.

You weren’t always like this, and neither were your parents. You used to be happy, a complete family who never fought and loved each other despite the flaws. Sure you noticed how your father had half a sun and your mother had half of a water lily, but they didn’t seem to care and you didn’t ask. They always laughed at each other's terrible jokes and cared for one another. You used to enjoy the stories of soulmates, listening as kids tell the stories of how their parents met. The stories of soulmates searching the other side of the world to find their other half.

Then one day your parents started fighting and the illusion of happiness ended. You weren’t sure what happened, but one day you came home from school and they were yelling. Maybe they’ve always yelled and screamed until their faces turned blue and they faked being happy for your sake. All it took was one day for all you believed in to fall apart.

You came home early from school on a half day, you were excited to go home and spend all day with your parents. You didn’t stay excited for long, walking through the doors you heard screaming coming from the kitchen along with glass shattering. Hesitantly you made your way to the entrance and poked your head around the corner to see what was happening. Seeing you home your mom wiped the tears from her eyes and greeted you as your dad walked past you and to their shared bedroom.

After that it seemed like the veil fell, the thin sheet protecting you from the real relationship your parents held disappeared. They stopped pretending to be happy, no longer laughing at dumb jokes instead rolling their eyes. You stopped eating dinner as a family, your dad eating before he comes home and walking straight to his home office. They tried not to fight in front of you, waiting until you go to bed to start their dispute, but they were never quiet. They kept you up at night with the shouting that reached your bedroom door, knocking like a reminder your family is no longer really together.

You sat at the top of the stairs listening as your dad left your mom because he found his soulmate. Listening to the rolling of his suitcase across the wooden floor as he walked out the door. Listening as your mom broke down sobbing as the door slammed shut. Listening to his car driving off as silent tears rolled down your face choking back sobs that you couldn’t let out. You never brought it up to your mom, a silent agreement the next day as you both had puffy faces from crying the previous night.

Now you were starting your first year at Shiratorizawa and your best friend Tendō refused to let you be pessimistic. He dragged you to the gym to sign up for the volleyball team manager. His logic being you can’t be pessimistic if he doesn’t let you, and if you’re constantly around Tendō it's the less time you can be a “debbie downer” in his words.

Tendō and you became friends in middle school when you ran into each other turning the corner. He quickly befriended you after learning about your pessimistic view on life claiming he was gonna turn it around so you’d be happy again. You rolled your eyes at his explanation for wanting to be your friend but let him anyway. Since then you’ve been inseparable, always with one another. Tendō was the best thing that could’ve happened to you.

So here you were meeting the volleyball team as Tendō all but skipped to the gym for the first practice. “This is gonna be so fun Y/n, we’ll get to hang out all the time. Now you’ll have no opportunity to go back to your dorm room and think about how much life sucks. Which it doesn’t by the way.” He said as you went to say something about him finally agreeing about your life sucking. “I know you’ve had some hard times but believe me, it’s not always gonna be that way. You’ll meet your soulmate and learn that happiness does exist for you.”

You shook your head at his blind optimism, you knew he wasn’t always like this. That he had his dark moments too and you were right there to pull him out of his dark space like he was you. “‘Tori, we both know I’m better now. I’m not 100% all the time but that’s fine. I appreciate you doing this though.”

He nodded, slowing his pace down so you could catch up to him. “I know you are, but you’re still on the fence about soulmates and I’m determined to help you find yours so you know they’re out there.” You sighed as you walked into the gym having been through this conversation hundreds of times with Tendō before. He’d keep having this conversation with you until you realize it yourself. Just because your parents didn’t work out doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t worth it.

Tendō soon realized after that maybe you were right. Maybe your soulmate wasn’t worth it, maybe you would be better off just living with Tendō forever like you discussed in middle school. Maybe you were right because Tendō soon found out that your soulmate was Ushijima Wakatoshi. Tendō wasn’t sure if you noticed that Ushijima held the other half to your soulmate mark or not. If you had, you didn’t say anything.

Tendō spent the better half of middle school trying to convince you that your soulmate would be the best thing that happened to you. Then he spent the better half of first and second year listening to Ushijima say he didn’t believe in soulmates either, that his home situation was much like yours. His parents weren’t soulmates and ended up getting a divorce leaving him with his mom. He realized the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of you. Making you both believe that the other doesn’t exist and if you do it’s some kind of fluke.

It was the start of your third year and you were moving back into the dorms after having a break for the summer. “‘Tori, why are you insisting I hang out with Ushijima so badly? He’s been your roommate for two years now and suddenly you want me to hang out with him? It doesn’t make sense.” Tendō had been trying to convince you to hang out with Ushijima because he couldn’t take not telling you anymore. It was eating him alive that your soulmate was right there and nothing was happening. It was your last year before you possibly never saw Ushijima again and Tendō would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell you. “I wanted to tell you, believe me I did.”

“Satori, what did you do?” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ushiwaka is your soulmate. I was going to tell you but it turns out you have the same outlook on soulmates. So I thought maybe it was best if you guys never met, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” Tendō said, speaking fast and pacing back and forth.

You sat on your bed rubbing your temples. “Are you mad at me?” Tendō asked quietly. You sighed and looked up, resting your elbows on your knees, “No ‘Tori, I Could never be mad at you. I wish you told me sooner, but I’m not mad at you. I’ll hang out with Ushijima but there’s no guarantee that it’ll work out, especially not if you say he has the same outlook as me.” You talked for a few more minutes before Tendō led you to his shared dorm with Ushijima.

Tendō walked in, “Ushiwaka! I have a gift for you!” He said before gesturing widely towards the door as you walked in. “My surprise is Y/n?” Ushijima said, confused. “Yes! Y/n here is your soulmate! Your other half! Now talk!” Tendō said excitedly before walking out and shutting the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

You glanced down at Ushijima’s wrist and saw the matching half to your cherry blossom match. You showed him yours as you sat down on the chair by his and Tendō’s shared desk, “‘Tori tells me that you have the same views as me when it comes to the whole soulmate situation. Don’t particularly believe in them, but ‘Tori’s been trying to convince me otherwise for about four years. I guess I don’t really know where you stand with all of this.” By the time you were done speaking you noticed that his eyes never once stopped looking at you.

“My parents divorced, yes, but they weren’t soulmates. Perhaps it’ll be different with us since we’re actually soulmates.” He said moving closer towards you. “You want to try the soulmate thing? You’re sure?” You asked sheepishly. You spent nearly your whole life swearing up and down that you didn’t believe in soulmates and now that you’ve found yours, you don’t know if you still believe that. “Yes I want to try, but I do get busy with volleyball so I might not have much time for us.” He said and you nodded. You knew that, you’ve been friends with Tendō long enough to know volleyball takes up a lot of time. You’ve also been the volleyball’s team manager long enough to know how passionate Ushijima is about volleyball. You knew you couldn’t ask him to put you first.

“And that’s how I single handedly got Ushiwaka and Y/n together. So you can thank me for this lovely wedding we’re all attending.” Tendō said after telling the story of how you and Toshi met. You rolled your eyes and you jokingly mouthed ‘thank you’ to Tendō. You turned to your now husband who had his hand on your knee while he was laughing at Tendō’s story and smiled. He turned his head and smiled back before giving you a peck on the lips, “I’m glad I met you Y/n.” He said lovingly. “Me too Toshi, me too.”

[goose-books]

& while i am posting things today. some more maxwriting, specifically two mini-fanfictions for yves. @yvesdot​ ’s WIP the one and only universe of kay rainier (would recommend! arguments to lovers! he/him wlw! interdimensional (?) shenanigans!) one of which also features an OC i've mentioned a few times on this blog but done historically very little with.

it’s occurred to me in my moment of posting that neither of these pieces have titles. oh well.

THE FIRST ONE

you ought to send yves. some bingo prompts. anyway, i sent them kay + daemons, and then immediately realized i had ideas and thoughts about that, too. so i wrote my own version. unlike theirs, this is vaguely set in the HDM universe, which is funny because i haven’t read HDM and learned everything i know from waya vivji, a single war and peace fanfiction, and also wikipedia just before i wrote it. the notable context here is that daemons are usually the “opposite sex” of their humans, and if i got that wrong do not tell me because i am embarrassed.

Kay is a precocious child; she is twelve years old when her daemon settles. Chesire is a sleek dark mahogany, a ferruginous hawk with a wickedly curved beak and eyes that glitter like beads. He is also male. This, for the Rainiers, is not done; even the absent Ariel, despite his eccentricities, had a properly gendered daemon. It unsettles Kay in a way she will not place for many years; still, as soon as she registers her disappointment (for it must be disappointment, surely; nothing more), she’s awash in guilt.

“How lovely,” she tells him, stroking his glossy new feathers, keeping her voice low less to keep out her father and more because it is only polite. Cheshire bobs his head and flutters his wings and seems, very slightly, to preen. He must be able to sense her uncertainty, the subdued flatness to her voice, but he is a Rainier as well; the polite thing is to ignore it, and he does.

“How curious,” Father says, stroking Fauntleroy’s velvet ears.

“Not unheard of,” the dormouse says from her seat in his breast pocket. Constantine inclines his head slightly; he does not deign to offer more.

/

When the Neighborly enters the house the jackal stalks at his heel, ears pricked at attention, wet black nose gleaming, mouth crooked open in a canine grin. With it comes a distinct smell — not unpleasant so much as it is unbalancing, an earthy scent, filling the foyer as its claws click on the floor. Like his clothes, it is black, head to toe. They aren’t usually. Kay wonders if it’s coincidence, if perhaps he dyes its fur so it will match.

She thinks of it as such — it — because to be frank she is not sure what to make of Atlas, and what to assume about his daemon. During the customary introductions, Cheshire perches atop Kay’s shoulder, and Fauntleroy emerges from her pocket to whisk up to Father’s collar and cling to the fabric to study the Neighborly. He can’t stay quite still. His hands twitch at his sides. He shifts his weight. The jackal paces maddening circles around the room, eyeing the dark walls and the fine wooden furniture, too dignified to lower its head and sniff but not too good to cast judgment without speaking. Every time it passes Kay in its slow inexorable orbit, Cheshire’s claws tighten on her coat.

“It’s a pleasure, Atlas,” Constantine says stiffly, extending a hand to shake with an expression that suggests he’d rather have it removed.

Atlas shakes, grinning easily, a looseness to his motions, and then he tilts his head and says, “Anubis.” In a moment the jackal’s at his side, curling around the backs of his legs to turn its wet smile on Kay’s father. It’s too large; that’s what she decides. How does he take it anywhere? Why hasn’t it learned to behave? Unless this is his goal: to part rooms, to announce his presence as soon as he steps through the threshold.

“Anubis,” she says, the first time she and Atlas are alone. “Like the god?” Atlas and Anubis; it is the sort of half-joke she can appreciate.

Anubis looks up at its name. Atlas looks at it. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was my sister’s idea.” He looks to Cheshire, who has settled near Kay’s inkwell to reorganize her pens. “And this is…”

“Cheshire.”

“Cheshire,” Atlas repeats, piercing glinting as his eyebrow quirks.

“When I was younger, I thought he would be a cat.”

“I thought she’d be a crow. Probably better this way. Crows are poser birds.” Anubis snorts at that, a sound both doggish and human.

“She is… she, then,” Kay says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Apparently that’s weird.” Atlas leans back in Kay’s chair until the front legs leave the ground.

“Is it,” Kay says.

Atlas’s eyes flit around her face, like he knows what she’s asking; his smirk doesn’t lessen. “Well, women have male daemons, right? Ask Cheshire.”

Kay and Cheshire look at each other. Cheshire fluffs his feathers and says, “This is dull.”

Kay is less certain. She does not smile at Atlas, but some of the edge has smoothed from her voice. “I should like to watch you explain it to my father.”

“If he could take it,” Atlas says. “What’s the mouse’s fucking name again?”

Cheshire steps back and forth, feathers ruffling, until Kay sets a hand out to still him, gentle, comforting. “Fauntleroy.”

“Christ,” Atlas says. “Bless you.” When he catches Kay stiffening, he relents a little, letting the chair clatter back to the floor. “Fits the vibe, I guess.”

“As yours fits you,” says Kay, making it as uncomplimentary as she can.

“Guess my soul’s black,” Atlas says cheerily. He balls up a piece of paper and tosses it to Anubis, who, flopped across the floor, doesn’t move. “Not the weirdest thing about us.”

“Well,” Kay says, “I think it would be rather unfair for me to talk about oddities,” and she takes a small victory in the look they share: not friendship, not fondness, but something like an understanding, reached in the quiet moment before Cheshire hands her another pen and she resumes her work.

THE SECOND ONE

this one’s a bit older but i never posted it until now, at yves.’s urging! i think i was doing... camp nano last year? or something. and couldn’t think of what to write. or maybe i couldn’t focus on my project because i was thinking about my other project, the butch4butch hamlet retelling i still haven’t written. to which yves. said, “write kay x your lesbian hamlet character,” to which i said, “you don’t think i will, but i will,” and i did. so really this is yvesmax crossover fic.

It is annoying, Holden’s habit of dropping by whenever she likes. This can probably be attributed to the fact that Holden, herself, is annoying. Kay can only adjust the items on her desk (pens, mainly) so many times; she is caught up in an aggravating state of waiting but also not waiting, and she does not care for that.

Just as she thinks so, there’s a knock at the front door.

Holden doesn’t ring the doorbell anymore. She did that the first time and Kay came down the stairs a few seconds too late to find Father staring at the creature in his front hall, looking like he didn’t know whether he should be put out or concerned. “I think the earrings got him,” Holden said later, on Kay’s bed, tapping the crosses hanging inverted from her ears. Kay’s opinion was that it was all of her, from the messy post-buzz hair to the propensity for suits to the Doc Martens to the way Holden leans on any available surface.

She opens the door and Holden is leaning against the doorframe. Which looks a little more awkward coupled with whatever she’s carrying under her arm.

“Hi,” she says.

Kay blinks slowly.

“It is late,” she says, spinning on her heel and heading for the stairs. Behind her, she hears the quiet click of Holden closing the door. The grandfather clock in the front hall is ticking toward eleven.

“I never get over how weird this place is.” When she glances back, Holden is peering into the nearest glass cabinet. “Like a little dollhouse.”

“Thank you,” Kay says stiffly. She cannot decide whether she is irritable.

“And this is coming from someone whose parents were devoted to taxidermy.” Holden follows her up the stairs, hands shoved into the pockets of her suit jacket, looking entirely too comfortable here, and Kay decides that she is irritable after all.

“I do not know what you suppose your business is here,” she says. “Especially as it is almost an hour past ten.”

Holden shrugs.

“Do not shrug at me.”

Holden opens her mouth as if to speak, then casts a glance behind her. There’s no one in the darkened hallway; Father is in his office. Still, Holden waits for Kay to shut her bedroom door.

“I know I’m late,” she says, slouching back against it. “Sorry. I lost track of time in the bookstore.”

Kay blinks. “You are late to see me because you went to the bookstore,” she intones.

She says nothing as Holden withdraws the books from under her arm and extends them. “I really wanted to find Carmilla for you,” she says. “Like, the oldest print version I could find.”

It certainly looks old. Kay purses her lips. “I own Carmilla.”

“I know. But, like… it’s vintage.” Holden attempts one-handed jazz hands. “I have a sentence in my notes app from six months ago that just says carmilla but like the old edition.” She shuffles the stack of books. “And then I sat down for — look, I swear I was trying to be timely about it. Trying to be punctual.” She pops the P. “But time isn’t real and I read two chapters of Pride and Prejudice and I don’t know if you own that but it feels like the kind of thing you’d find sexy.” Her smile glitters. “And then — I know The Catcher in the Rye isn’t your thing. But I wrote in this one, so.”

Kay reaches out, very carefully, to take the books. She does own Pride and Prejudice, actually, but she still feels a pang. She flips through The Catcher in the Rye and is met with scrawls of black-ink handwriting, filling up the margins and underlining passages.

“Thank you,” she says, very softly, and moves to set the books on her desk. “You didn’t have to… get me anything.”

“I like knowing that my parents’ money is fueling homosexual agendas,” Holden says pleasantly. When Kay turns around, Holden catches her hand and steps in closer, showing her teeth in a smile. “But I’ll try to be on time from now on.”

“As you should,” Kay says, pulling Holden a few inches closer.

Holden raises a hand to caress Kay’s cheek. “That said,” she says in a low voice, “now that I’ve — what did you say. Now that I’ve fulfilled my business here, I can think of a few things we could do. Unless it’s too late.”

Against her will, Kay smiles.

“I suppose we can extend your stay a little longer,” she says, and their lips meet.

[theewildflowers]

dramione fanfic recs

I’ve fallen into the Dramione fanfiction hole lately due to a friend’s recent obsession with Dramione and Draco Malfoy tik tok, so I wanted share some favorite stories I’ve read, especially with those who are also new to the pairing. Many of the fics below are pretty popular within the fandom, but maybe there will be something new as well for those who come across this post.

I’ve included the rating and word count in parenthesis, and the fics are set in the magical universe unless otherwise noted. Please mind the tags when you click through—many fics may have triggers. Happy reading!

wait and hope by mightbewriting (M, 95k) “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?” Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events. “He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Part of the Wait and Hope story universe. Draco’s POV, Beginning and End, is a WIP. (I’ve read and reread Wait and Hope multiple times in a few weeks span, so it’s safe to say that it’s my favorite Dramione story universe.)

the politician’s wife by Pir8fancier (M, 66k) This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy. (This was the first Dramione fic I’ve ever read and is still one of my favorites)

the right thing to do by LovesBitca8 (E, 176k) Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. Part of the Rights and Wrongs story universe (highly recommend Draco’s POV, All the Wrong Things, as well).

remain nameless by HeyJude19 (E, WIP) The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence.

seeker fit by selinyu and etlithien (T, 2.6k) “Will the Head Girl grace the pitch with her presence for today’s match?” The timbre of Malfoy’s cool lilting drawl slid down Hermione’s spine. I recommend all the fics in the SenLithien Dramione Collaboration collection.

breath mints / battle scars by Onyx_and_Elm (E, 148k) For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes.

apple pies and other amends by ToEatAPeach (M, 76k) It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing:  she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

clean and marked by olivieblake (M, 118k and 178k) Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." Basically a sixth year retelling.

the best of me by MrsRen (E, 148k) Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

fortuitous by MrsRen (M, 93k) Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need.

bring him to his knees by Musyc (E, WIP) Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.

looking glass by kyonomiko (M, 99k) No one knows what happened to Draco Malfoy in the final battle, but, when his portrait shows up at Harry Potter's house, it's readily assumed he didn't make it. Hermione's perspective on the wizard starts to change as she learns more about who he really was. The more she knows, the more tragic his apparent demise seems to be.

isolation by bex-chan (E, 264k) He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!"

thirty-five by raven_maiden (M, 2.3k) It's Draco Malfoy's birthday, and you'd think he'd have some say in the matters concerning his birthday. Then again, the will of four other Malfoys is hard to overcome. Part of Meet the Malfoys collection.

apples & cream by LovesBitca8 (E, 1.4k) She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed.

universal truths by scullymurphy (E, 145k, pride & prejudice inspired AU) Hermione Granger is a woman of intelligence and spirit. Draco Malfoy is a man of wealth and privilege. When they meet again, a decade after the second great wizarding war—they are not impressed. But when circumstances throw them together, dislike turns to attraction, attraction turns to passion and passion may turn into something more... If they can stay out of their own way and let love take its course.

my brown-eyed girl by PacificRimbaud (M, 2k) "Give it up, Granger. We've had our N.E.W.T. results for a week. What can possibly have earned your continued academic devotion in the last four days of term?" Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch.

bite marks by provactive_envy (E, 19.4k, muggle AU) Draco’s mouth falls open. He clutches his cookie and ignores the shower of crumbs littering his grey cashmere fingerless gloves. He can’t decide if he wants to fuck this girl or fight with her. Maybe both? Maybe at the same time?

thirteenth night by Nelpher (M, 78k) When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever.

familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 (E, 7k) “You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

bone mortar by mightbewriting (M, 10k, muggle AU) Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find— someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters in a row he at least felt like he’d earned common law ownership of some sort.

of mongolian fireflies and russian sharpclaws by barnettdidit (T, 37k) As colleagues for the F.A.U.C.E.T. (Fetching And Uncovering Creatures Experiencing Terror) department, Draco and Hermione have had their fair share of arguments. When they face their hardest case yet, mixed with an odd swarm of fireflies that glow in the colour according to how they feel about each other, Hermione is struggling to keep a straight mind.

a muggle-born magic by Musyc (M, 50k, regency era AU) Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.

aurelian by BittyBlueEyes (T, 255k) Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

malfoy shrugged by uselessenglishmajor (E, 11k) February 14th is just another day at the office for Hermione Granger. Shame no one else got the memo.

distance by In_Dreams (T, 138k) She’s a novice Unspeakable trying to earn her stripes. He’s a shafted Auror desperate to prove himself. When they end up forced together on a shared assignment, neither is willing to back down. But when the mission pulls them into an ancient world of mystery and adventure, they find themselves depending on each other in a race against time.

nonscents by In_Dreams (M, 10k) Granger's Amortentia smells like him and Draco can't understand why. More importantly, he can't let her figure it out.

correspondence by olivieblake (T, 5k) Every year, Draco insists that Hermione take a picture for their Christmas card. Why? Hell if she knows, but if it will make him happy, so be it.

sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton (E, 9k) A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.

[boogiewrites]

Never Break the Chain Pt 5

Part 5 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary:  Reunited after their deadly close encounter. They finally have time to ask the right questions and give honest answers.

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Lover’s reunited. Confessions of Love. 

Getting shot was never part of the plan, but it was always an option she had to consider. She was already marked and scarred, not the first time she'd been shot, but the first time in the shoulder. Needless to say, it fucking hurt.

Staggering, bloody through the streets was awkward enough, being shirtless turned it into a circus attraction. She had to shove with her good arm through concerned passersby and made her way as quickly as she could to her bike. It was a good trek, but far away from the action. She had a jacket in the side bag, and that had one problem fixed. The other, a much larger one was leaking out of her sleeve and throbbing through her entire body every time she moved, which was as little as she could manage. Being the sinful girl scout she was, she was always prepared, which meant knowing where she could go if she was shot. It was always a smart move to have blackmail on a veterinarian. She wobbly directed her bike with only one truly useful arm and braced herself for a very painful experience.

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

As soon as his eyes opened in the hospital room, he was being asked questions. The last thing you want to do after losing so much blood and being shot with surgery on top of that was be interrogated. But here he was. After giving his signature attitude that no supervisor had ever enjoyed dealing with, he was left alone. He finally knew some peace after a week or so, laying with eyes closed, healing up well he was told, now waiting out infection just to be safe. He’d never passed out from blood loss before, and he would be lying if he didn’t feel every second his age while he had been in the hospital. The bare walls and sterile fixtures didn’t help make him feel any warmer or comfortable. The pain medicine in his IV did though.

Murphy comes in, an eyebrow raised and a grunt in response to the appearance of his partner was given in acknowledgment.

“I know. I look like shit.” Javi smarts, adjusting himself to sit more upright, a pull in his side still noticeable but no longer grating.

“If you’re aware of that I guess that marks off one of my theories.”

“You? Have a theory?” Javi snarks, leaning back, propped up and hands across his stomach.

“I thought you might’ve had brain damage.” Murphy grins. “Claiming you didn’t know who that woman was we saw.”

“You didn’t say anything did you?”

“Don’t insult me, man.”

“Good.”

“They’re pretty fuckin’ annoyed with you right now.” the observation draws a chuckle from Murphy.

“Good. They’re only going to get more mad.”

“I can see why you’d wanna protect her though.”

A raised eyebrow was all that was needed to ask a question.

“They not tell you about anything that happened after you passed out?”

There's a pause as a wave of subdued anger rises on Javi’s face.

“I got to ya first. I peek over the edge of the roof and there she was…” he holds his arms out, a dramatic retelling for no other reason than to take his sweet time and annoy his partner. “You sure can pick ‘em Javi. She was standing there like some Colombian centerfold with no shirt on, hair all wild. I would’ve thought I’d just interrupted you two having a good time if I didn’t know better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Shirtless?”

“Still had her bra on. Unfortunately.” Steve huffs out a laugh at him and the annoying twitch in Javi’s crow’s feet. “She made her shirt into a tourniquet for you, man. It was ripped and holding your guts in. You’ve got to thank that pretty little lady for saving your ass.”

He sits silently for a moment. “No wonder they thought I was working with the narcos.” he says quietly.

“They told you that?”

“Not outright.” he shakes his head.

“I guess you don’t know about what Trujillo did then huh?”

A sharp turn to face Murphy and a glare told him to spit it out fast.

“I saw her and she had her hands up, let me know you were shot. The sweet thing said, Murphy...Please don’t let him die.”

A twitch of his nose and an uncomfortable grunt show the emotion Javi was willing to show about the heartfelt statement.

“So I put my gun down, cause I figured I knew it was your girl. Who else would be willing to save you and put herself out like that? Unfortunately...Trujillo wasn’t aware of that.” he pauses for a moment, a wince to tell Javi the rest. “And he shot at her.”

“Shot AT her or shot HER.” Javi immediately demands clarification.

“Both.” he shrugs.

“Why the fuck am I just finding this out? Is she alive?” he begins getting out of bed, his torso pulling forward before Steve holds an arm out to keep him down.

“Woah, she should be, man, don’t get your panties in a bunch. She jumped off the roof and I was honestly a bit worried he’d hit her, but when I looked down there was a mess of a dumpster and a blood trail out to the street. You were right about her being good.”

“I know I was.” his brow furrows, immediately preoccupied with her again. “You should check the-”

“Hospitals, I know. I already did. Nothing. I would’ve been in to see you way sooner if she was dead.”

Javi looks away and that’s the closest to a thank you Murphy will get, but it was enough.

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

The first night back in his apartment Javi sat and smoked by an open window, half expecting Esme to show up, a pop of black hair over the edge of the roof but she never came. He could swear she said she wanted to stay with him, or there was something building when the moment was ripped away. He wanted to be angry and tell himself he was being stupid, but he couldn’t help but think he was recalling correctly.

-----

He had finally gone back to work. He hadn’t foreseen a warm welcome but being reprimanded and lectured hadn’t been what he expected either. He was too distracted, not trustworthy, a rebel, a loose cannon. All things he’d heard before. This time they focused on his history with women. Both professionally and personally, the experience was vast. He had pulled more visas out of thin air than anyone in the DEA. His methods worked, yes it was sleeping with his informants and gaining their trust but it was a perk to a transaction that always worked. Because of Esme’s unknown identity, they had nothing concrete about him having connections with the groups they were after. He wouldn’t budge in telling them and they couldn’t accept that. So now he was too lenient on women, they said. His judgment couldn't be trusted because he could be compromised. To say he was pissed was an understatement. Had this suspension and possible reassignment after a board review been something he thought could happen? Of course. That didn’t mean he had to take it well or be happy about it.

He went to a bar, Murphy giving apologetic glances and slaps to the back between snarky remarks to break the tension. Javi knew he meant well, but his mind was elsewhere. He sauntered home, a warm belly of the contents of a few highball glasses and a glare on his face. He didn’t contain his annoyance as he let his boots hit heavy up the stairs and his shoulder jam against his door before opening it and twisting the lock hard. A more vulnerable groan, his hands running down his face after throwing the contents of his pockets onto the counter diffuse through a quiet and dark apartment. The warm light from the street lamps outside seep in through the thin curtains, a light breeze causes them to sway against their thicker partners that provided a shield from the sun during the day. He moves towards a window, feet dragging slightly, lighting a cigarette that illuminates him in orange and red for just a moment before the billowing smoke frames his face, half-lit in Rembrandt lighting by the mix of the moon and artificial light.

“Bad day Javi?”

He hears from the direction of the chair in his living room. Any other voice he would’ve turned and leaped for his gun and aimed, but he shut his eyes and took another patient inhale and exhale.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“You should have better security for your place.” she smiles but he doesn’t see it, she admires him for a moment before standing.

“Not many have the balls to break into a cop's apartment.”

“It’s not a matter of excess balls, but lack of brains.”

He turns to see her in a dress, ruffles on the edges and red as blood fitting her loose and tucked in at the waist. A matching flower sat in her hair, woven espadrilles on her feet made her look like any other beautiful woman he’d look twice at on the street. He could see her green eyes gazing at him doe-like and calm in the low light. They gave away that she was special, not by their color but in how they looked at him. No other woman had looked at him like that. He would’ve sworn all the answers he needed were right there in her eyes as she approached him, he could’ve almost gone on without the need to say his questions out loud. But he was never one to act without proof.

He looked her up and down, a cigarette resting between his lips before he pulled out a chair next to the small kitchen table against the windowed wall. “I’d ask what took you so long but by comparison, you didn’t make me wait long at all this time.” He begins taking off his boots, giving her time to respond and appear calmer about her appearance than he was.

“I had things to take care of.” She pauses, hip against the kitchen counter observing him and appreciating seeing how his jeans pulled tight across his thighs and hips as he moved.

He looks her over again, her relaxed stance, weight on her arm resting as he took a long drag. He stands and walks over, his significantly taller frame, even minus the boots, takes his time taking her in. He selfishly makes her wait, drinks her in, pushing her hair off her shoulders and almost touching the bare skin of her decolletage. “Is it true that you got shot?”

She nods and motions with her head, “In the shoulder.”

He takes his liberties and pulls the sleeve of her dress down to expose a fresh pink scar. “Still hurt?”

“Does yours?” a light touch to his side for a moment, barely outstretching her arm for how close they stood. Personal space wasn’t something either of them was interested in when they were together.

“Sometimes.” he admits.

She nods in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes.” is her quiet answer. He leans down for a moment and kisses the blemish on her shoulder.

“You could’ve let me know you were okay.” she was prepared for anger, which she deserved, admittedly, but she wasn’t met with it. His eyes were dark and deep, looking over her wound where his thumb was currently tracing.

“I didn’t want to risk being seen.” he keeps his eyes on her scar, his brow low and to anyone else, he would read as angry, but she knew he was just thinking, wheels turning and recalling the day she received the mark. “What did work say?”

“Why?”

“Call me curious.”

“I’d much rather hear what you have to say.” he meets her eyes again but he’s faced with the look of insistence a woman gives a man she loves. “Alright,” he sighs. “I'm under review. They wanted me to give you up, tell them who you were but... “ he shrugs, needless to say, he didn’t give them so much as her alias. “They don’t trust me. Too many favors pulled to cover other people’s asses finally caught up to me.”

She nods, looking away in thought for a moment. “You were too good in other words.” she finally answers, reaching out to take the hand that had been anchored to his jutted-out hip.

“Me?” he lets out a chuckle, another inhale, blown away from her face. “I’m not the one who lost their shirt saving my ass from getting shot.” he grins and nods down at her. “I’ve been told I should thank you for saving my life.” he takes one last drag before snuffing out the cherry in the ashtray on the counter.

“It was nothing.” she lied and matched his grin.

“If you’re so bad at lying, how have you not been caught yet?” a teasing squeeze of her hand as the pair rest in the small space between them. “Wasn’t nothing.” his other, now free, hand rests on her scarred arm. “Getting shot for me is something. Men get medals for that shit.”

“But I’m not a man. Just a topless woman who’s stupid enough to risk her life for one.”

A soft huff of amusement is shared between them. “So that part was true?” his smile reaches up to his eyes before he pulls her in to kiss her head and her laugh gives him his answer. “I really wish I hadn’t been a chicken shit and passed out. Would’ve liked to have seen that. ”

“Play your cards right and you still might,” she smirks. “But I believe we have a conversation to finish first.”

“So I didn’t dream all that?”

“No, you didn’t.” a soft and gentle answer, her eyes tender as they looked up to his face. He sees the lump in her throat bob before she speaks. “Where did we leave off?” She sounded a touch uncertain.

“You gonna act like you haven’t been playing it over and over in your head this whole time?” His head ducks down to eyeball her and she gives him an unexpected smile that grows up to her eyes.

Touching his face she lets out a wistful sigh, thumb dragging on his clean-shaven cheek. “I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until I saw you again.”

The sentiment was a punch in the gut that softened him, clearing his throat he looks away almost bashfully for a moment.

“Once I saw you that night in the jewelry store you haven’t been far from my mind. And since that kiss…” her eyes move to his lips and he nervously wets them. Only she could make him nervous. He lost the power balance when he was with her and it felt new, almost scary again. It made his old bones feel like a kid again when she said sweet things to him. “I would’ve come to see you sooner if I could have. I’m sorry. I worried the whole time if that’s any consolation.”

“I worried about you too. Always have.” He speaks quietly and almost mumbles the latter, turning to kiss her palm that had started stroking into his hair absent-mindedly. “I thought if I ever saw you again I would give you a piece of my mind. I'd tell you everything I’d built up in my head all these years.” His eyes move to her marked shoulder and he places his hand over hers. “But you’re making it hard on a man, sweetheart… looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She quietly laughs and moves her chest to his, her other hand moving to hold his face and he encapsulates her other hand

“Like you used to. Like you love me.” There’s a pause and the cards are on the table. Neither was the type to fold and bluffing wasn’t an option in this company.

“That’s because I do.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to leave you, Javi.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I had to find out for myself, didn't I? I’m as hard-headed as you are, no one could tell me nothin’ at that age. I had big dreams, ones I couldn’t reach if I was with you.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Could you reach them if you were with me now?”

She smiles almost condescendingly at him. “That’s why I’m here.” She whispers and gives him a small kiss to his lips before pulling away and moving farther into the room. “I just finished a job.”

His hands fall to his sides, holding to hers until they’re forced to let go. “And?”

“It was my goal. For a long time. I wanted to work with a billionaire and I have. So now I’m faced with what to do next.”

“Well, what do you want?” He takes slow steps towards her.

“You.” She looks his way with her big green eyes shining.

“How may I be of service?” He holds his arms out in offering.

She takes almost a full minute to speak and a worry grows in his gut as he musters all his patience to wait. “I’m tired, Javi.” Is the response she finally sighs out and meets his eyes.

With a furrowed brow he begins to move her towards the couch. “Well you were shot hun-“

“No. Not like that.” She stops him and her fingers pick at each other. “I want... this to be over.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that, sweetheart.”

“I was wrong. I can admit that now... now that I’ve found you again. I’m tired of this life. This... running. I’m tired of not being able to trust anyone and being alone and getting hurt and taking this disrespect from these men and-“

He shushes her as she speaks faster and grows more upset. “Take a breath baby, you’re fine. You’re with me. Nothin bad's gonna happen as long as I’m with you alright?” He says it and means it, an honesty she meets in his eyes that makes hers well up.

“I know. That’s why I don’t want it anymore. I want you. I want to be with you. I want to have that quiet life where nothing happens. I want to wake up and know we’re safe. Together.” She wraps her arms around him and he holds her tightly. She doesn’t cry but the sting is red on her face.

He stands and considers this confession, one he’s only had in his wildest dreams. While stroking her hair a million scenarios run through his mind. He eventually settles on one. “I’m tired too.”

It’s a simple sentence but it spoke volumes between them. “I have enough money, Javi. Enough for us to be happy somewhere.”

“You want to run?”

She feels the burn of reality in her chest. “I don’t know any other way.”

He looks away into the empty and dark room, hands on her face and stroking her temples. “Fuck…” he exhales. “I don’t either.” He shakes his head before looking back at her burning cheeks. “But fuck me am I tired of this shit too. They’re no better than the men you worked for. They’re all in bed together. There are no “good guys” and “bad guys”. There’s no fucking justice there’s just…”

This time she distracts him by kissing his palm. “I know Javi. I wanted to tell you when we were younger but you believed in it so much. I didn’t have the heart to-“

“I wouldn’t have listened.” He shrugs and watches her eyes pour our decades of apologies.

A long but not heavy moment of silence passes. Decades of memories whirling around, potential possibilities for the future playing out as his hands held her heart-shaped face and studied her. Both older, crinkles in the corner of their eyes and sun spots mixed with the freckles, their faces showed their age but their eyes were 18 again.

“I’m sorry.” She breaks the silence. “For everything.”

“So am I.” Is the best response he can muster.

“Instead of you asking me to stay… I’m asking you to go now. Ironic.” She smiles.

“Timing was never our strong suit.”

“No.” She shakes her head and softly laughs. “We didn’t talk much. Not with our words anyway.” The smiles shifted into a smirk.

“Never had to back then did we?”

“You only had to smile with that baby face and as soon as I’d see that dimple it was over.” She shakes her head in agreement. A rush of new emotions comes over. The happy memories. It was so easy to let the negative eat away at them and replace them. “You’re so much more handsome than I ever thought you could be.” She admits with a fully formed laugh. “Better looking than that scrawny young man I left.” She loves her hands to feel his shoulders and watch the grin spread on his face.

“You’re sweet-talking me now.”

“Well, I have to get you to run away with me. Thought I’d try flattery.”

“All you had to do this whole time baby was show up.” The grin he wore wasn't an exact match to the sentiment but she felt it like a knife. The mood shifts, they both feel it. A weight, but it was comforting. “There’s never been another woman that could even begin to replace what you meant… mean to me. This whole time it’s been you missing. The way only you’ve been able to make me feel and that... that damned beautiful face that makes me want to do anything it asks. It’s not fair on an old man sweetheart.”

“Run away with me. Fuck that job. We’ve taken a lifetime to figure out what we needed. Come with me, Javi. We’ll have that quiet little boring life. Like it should’ve been.”

“How can I say no?”

“I’m hoping you can’t.” She gives him the sweetest smile she can.

“You mean it don't you?”

“You seem surprised.”

“After all this time?” His eyes squint showing his disbelief.

“You are as handsome as you are clueless.” She laughs and reaches up to kiss him again. “I never wanted to leave. I never stopped trying to fill my guilt and regret with money and danger and drugs. Just feeling your hands on me like this right now feels better than anything else ever has. I can’t beat how you make me feel.”

He takes his cue, hands moving to pull her closer. “I can make it feel better, sweetheart.” A lower voice, one that was deep, sends a tremble down her spine. He didn’t sound like that when he was younger.

“You always did like to talk a big talk.”

“And I can walk it now. I’m not a kid anymore Esme. I’m a man.” A stern brow appears and she feels her insides melt. “If you think it was good then... well it was…” he gives that grin that wins women over time after time. “You’re gonna love what I can do now.” With broad shoulders and a strong jaw, he loomed over her, making her feel small in a way she didn’t want to fight against..

“Then stop talkin’ and show me, Javi.” She whispers, a seductive smile on her face. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“I can do that… but you’ll never wanna leave again.” He smirks before closing in.

“Make sure I don’t.” She softens for a moment, her hand carding through the almost curls at the nape of his neck. She lets the tension grow, the flirtatious closeness, an intimate sharing of smiles and breath isn’t taken for granted. Something hotter grows in the heat between their bodies, and as she had in the past, she gives him a direct signal to move forward. “We’ve waited long enough, Javi, stop sweet talkin’ and make love to me already.”

Her laugh is broken off by a commanding press against her mouth and his two strong hands moving into her hairline. She feels his smirk fade against her lips, each pass growing more and more urgent. With confident hands, he reaches down to grab her ass, one staying to her jaw. These weren’t the clumsy but enthusiastic hands she recalled. There weren’t short sweet kisses, unsure glances shared as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not the cum so soon from inexperience. He handled her like a man, and she felt more like a woman than she had in years in his strong grip.

He didn't let up as he moved them to his bedroom his mouth stayed to hers, taking each breath and devouring it, savoring it with a tease of tongue before deepening again. She bit his bottom lip after a light slap to her ass to get her moving in the right direction. He spreads his fingers, handling as much of her body as he could, a hard controlled wobble of her ass cheek, another slap of ownership, not enough to hurt her, but enough to show her how he thought of her as his. Once he had her at the foot of his bed, as much as he wanted to take his time, he also wanted to ravage her and intimately know every inch of her he’d been away from. She kicks off her shoes, lost to the darkness of the room before he hitches her leg up, hand traveling back and forth on her thigh, exposed from the wrapped slit in her dress. His mouth follows where his mind wanders, to her neck to hear her sighs and hums. His hand snakes up the nape of her neck into the thick black hair, a tight fist to gently control her head, holding it back so he could explore the sensitive bend.

A moan from her elicits a response, “You like it like this?” spoken quietly in her ear as he gives her head the slightest yank back.

“Aye.” she sighs, her eyes fluttering back. “I love it.” she whispers, a smile on her face and her long lashes shadowing over her cheeks from her blissed expression.

He makes quick work of making her shudder from the pressure of his lips and tongue on her racing pulse. She let herself enjoy it, not another thought in her head except how it felt with him touching her. It was an abandonment she hadn’t been afforded in decades and the act of letting go had never felt so good before.

His kisses trail her neck, shoulder, making tender work of her scar as he slips her arms out of the sleeves. His hand was fast to her back and one to her naked chest makes him press his forehead to the wound he directly caused. “Fuck me, you’re even more beautiful now aren’t you?” his hand kneads her breast and his mouth moves lower over her exposed top half, the cinch at her waist the only thing keeping them apart now. “I wondered what you’d look… feel like now.” his words a quiet but the low rumble in it, pouring that masculine energy he gave off in waves made her melt in his hands. His hands move to cup her chest, an eager mouth, and open kisses before latching onto her hard nipples and triggering a moan he mirrors enthusiastically. “Now I get this… grown fuckin’ woman, don’t I? Fuck, look at you baby.” She wasn’t the skinny little thing he’d held before. She’d filled out, the years kind to her body from the athleticism they’d demanded. She was strong but soft in all the places he wanted her to be. Perky little tits and a tight ass were now something substantial. Something he could sink his teeth into and he wanted to touch every inch of it.

“Let me see you,” she asks quietly, pulling out of his embrace, dropping her dress to leave her bare. Her hands unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it out of those jeans that fit him just right. “I almost want to keep the jeans on you look so good in them.” she grins and reaches back to grab his ass and he jumps before they entwine again. A soft laugh and an old lover's embrace float them down to the bed together. Mouths and hands explored as she straddled him and felt the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscle in his arms from work.

He laid back, hands moving over her naked body, taking her in with an open mouth in awe. Her arms knocked her tits together as he played and pinched, making her grind and giggle. With a slow drag of her hands down his chest, the soft fuzz covered his pecks, grew smaller, and flowered out again as her fingers followed the trail, her hands moving to unfasten his belt. “As handsome as you are… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t most excited about this.” she leans forward and coos as her hand reached into his undone jeans, finding no underwear and considering teasing him for it. Then she remembered she had come to him not wearing any either. She supposes they were both whores and deserved each other. With a breathy indulgent laugh, she leaned forward, hearing him swear as she began kissing him again.

“I thought you loved me for my mind, sweetheart.” They both share a laugh and she bites his bottom lip.

“I love you for a lot of reasons, Javi. This cock has always been one of them.” The thick hair around his base was as soft as she recalled, maybe softer. But he certainly wasn’t. She kisses him through a groan, freeing him and feeling him fully harden in her hand. “Don’t know how you keep this thing in those tight little jeans.” she kisses down to his neck and he smirks, hand in her hair and the other still teasing her nipple.

“Same way I’m gonna fit it in your tight little pussy, baby doll.”

He hadn’t lost that smoothness, a perfected skill that made her bite his throat for making her throb and feel herself get wet and warm between her legs. “Suave.” she coos into his ear before licking the rim of it. “Now show me.” she demands sitting up and rubbing herself against his pulsing cock.

He moves quickly, his body trained and hers willing to submit to him. He sits up to grab her and push her to her back, hair splaying out, her breasts bouncing before heaving from the sudden excitement. There’s a girlish giggle he’d heard before as she watches him, her fingers disappearing between her pussy lips as he made quick work of his jeans and made his way back between her legs. “You’re still impatient.” he grins against her inner thigh, his hand tracing her slit, a bite to her inner knee that turns into a lippy kiss.

“For you.” she lets her arms fall back, biting her lip and watching him with interest.

His fingers find her swollen clit, both his cock and her sensitive bud jump at the touch. “And you still get so wet for me, Esme.” a trail of kissing to her inner thighs, moving lower towards her center makes her shiver. She didn’t have a response with the circling of her clit, the way he spread her knees apart before dipping down to suck the pulsing spot into his mouth.

“Fuck.” she exhales quickly. A compliment if he’d ever heard one. He did know what he was doing. His broad fingers teased her opening, waiting for that tension, that suction that meant not just her mind but her body was ready.

He hadn’t anticipated being the one not ready for the loud moan that left her thrown back head when he filled her with his fingers. One to test, another soon after added, and the trio to finish it was the curl of them inside her as he made her spasming clit even more sensitive with the suction of his mouth and the attention from his tongue.

“Fuck, Javi, don’t make me cum yet.” It was a plea and a chuckle at the same time.

“You think you’re only cumming once tonight?”

“I want the first time you make me cum to be on your cock.”

He hums deeply, “I can’t deny that, now can I?” a kiss to right above her lips before he eases the pace of his fingers and removes them. “C’mere baby.” he leans into her, hard against her slick folds, dragging his hips back and forth, a strong hand on her hip and his mouth firmly attached to hers again.

Her impatience shows, a brief indulgence of the feel of him, velvety against her before she reaches between them and angles him in. Her legs stay back, he's holding himself up on one hand before taking her hand, kissing her fingertips, and taking over himself. He teases her and it’s met to a whine, a pressure against her hole that was aching for him. “Javi, please.” her hips circle as a pout appears on her lips.

“That sounds too good for me to wanna stop, sweetheart.” he grins, knowing he was in control and being indulgent as fuck about it.

“You gonna make me beg?”

That cocky brow raises, rubbing his tip against her clit.

She raises her hips to meet him. “Fuck me, Javi. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited too damn long already. Fill me up, I wanna cum so hard on that cock.”

He pushes into her to cut her words off, he loved dirty talk but he couldn’t take it tonight. He’d topple over far too fast, so best give her what she wanted. She was right after all, they’d waited too damn long for this. You couldn’t tell who was making what sound at first. Their limbs entwined, her legs around his hips, keeping him in and her nails into his back. He had his face buried into the side of hers, not willing to miss a sound, one hand on her lower back that was arched up off the bed and the other in her hair. He waited, feeling her tighten and then give to him. “That’s a good girl.” he exhales softly in her ear, feeling her whine as her legs fell farther apart for him.

It happens fast for her, something she wasn’t accustomed to. But no man had been him, and she didn’t recall the last time she felt like this, with every muscle aching and reaching for pleasure from someone. She’d never been able to give over, to trust enough to let some in like she did him. The fact that she was sober and feeling like this was something she didn’t even think was possible. She wasn’t usually so submissive, but while he was looking into her eyes, kissing her lips, temples, nose, and forehead while he moved inside her she didn’t want to be anything else but taken care of by him. His body pushed against her just right, her legs wide let him rub against her clit and the spots most effective inside her. “Javi.” it comes out so desperate and he moans into her mouth as she tries to kiss through her rapidly quickening breaths. “It’s so good.” it was rushed out and ended with a squeak of a sound as she first tightened around him, he knew what that meant. “Just like...like that.” water wells in her eyes, feeling it build from the depth of her stomach, a wave builds up into her chest.

He pushed her hair out of her face, looked her over watching the painful pleasure fall over her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen from his kisses, sweat dampening her hairline and he concluded she’d never looked more beautiful than she did like this. “Fuck you feel even better,” he says against her temple, leaving a comforting kiss while she slowly let herself go. “I feel it Esme, let go for me, lemme feel you baby.”

Her fingers turn to claws in his hair and sink into the thick of it and the skin of his back as she gasps his name like a warning. He puts his nose to hers, nuzzling and reassuring and watching her burst into full bloom. There was no high-pitched showiness like ages ago. She knew what she wanted, asked for it, and got it. She knew her body and what felt good and how to make it work.

He got to watch her body move in waves, a subdued but not quiet cycle of moans and swears, her thighs trembling around him, feeling her squeeze and drip and make the deep muscles in his stomach jerk at the white burst inducing pleasure behind his eyelids. Javi loved sex, for so many reasons. But to have sex with someone he loved? It was quickly making the other experiences fade into the background to be forgotten and replaced by every second he spent inside Esme. The sound of her moaning his name like she desperately needed him fogged his mind, her sounds, the whimpers from deep breaths stayed steady and after a shared moment of the most intimate thing someone could share with their bodies, she forced his mouth back to hers, even hungrier than before.

Riding high, feeling her insides soaked and sensitive and each stroke still forcing a moan from her, she holds him close, a bit less submissive now with a clearer head. The kissing grows more heated, nails raking and teeth sinking into skin deeper. “I wanna ride you.” is all she states, and he obeys, pulling her up and situating her, a deep moan as she sinks back down on him, a string of expletives as she finds her footing. “Fuck you’re so deep like this.” her face is more playful, biting her lip and smiling down at him. She lets her hands explore his chest, moving to his neck before he takes her wrist to kiss her palm, his palm on her bouncing chest. He groans, her thumb slipping into his mouth as he gives her a bite and lick, “You’re too god damn handsome.” she grins and shudders from a growing wave. A slap, barely enough to call it that makes him grin as it hits his cheek. He pushes the thumb of his hand he had held hers with into her mouth. She greedily sucks at it, feeling his hips jerk beneath her. He moves it between her legs, targeting her clit and her hips stutter. He’d make her cum again soon and she was almost embarrassed at how easy it was for him to make her. Only she could roll them out like this, but he certainly was right about knowing how to handle a woman.

“You're already close again.” his upper lip almost snarled back as he said it, his prowess he prided himself in but knowing he was making her in particular feel good was cutting off his usual time quickly.

“Fuck you, Javi.” he laughs and slaps her hips, grabbing them and making her move faster.

“Go ahead and run that mouth. See how long you can keep it up while I’m making you cum.”

She gave in with a flutter of eyelids and a whimper as he braced his feet and pounded up into her. “Oh shit.” she cried, a hand on his chest to balance herself, the other absentmindedly on her breast, twisting at her nipple. The higher-pitched moans made their appearance, her mouth open, panting and paced with the slaps of his balls against her ass.

He holds her hip, making her move and she watches him pop his thumb into his mouth before zeroing right back in on her clit again. He feels her tighten back up again, her thighs starting to shake as she tries to push back in time onto him, taking him deeper, feeling him slide into the deepest spaces of her, filling her up, and feeling him up into her belly.

“It feels so fuckin’ good, don’t stop. Cum for me.”

He switches modes, she sees his brow lower, his nostrils flare, a sharp slap to her ass before gritting out “Then fuckin’ ride me, baby girl.”

Planting her hands on his chest, he braces her wrist, other thumb still pushing her over the edge with the way he was pounding into her. She bounces on him, watching his eyes shut from time to time, holding back as she drenched his cock and balls, the wet slap of skin loud in the otherwise quiet room. She moves her hips up and down, in circles, grinding down when he hits her just right, the sheen of sweat is now obvious on both their skin. They were both breathing hard, exertion and excitement weighing heavily on them as they tried to sync up.

“Fuck that’s it,” he grunts, head raising slightly to watch himself disappear in and out of her. “C’mon and give me that pussy. I feel it Esme, fuck, don’t make me wait for it.”

He had never been able to dirty talk when he was younger, perhaps that was why it had such a strong effect on her. Because she did exactly what he asked, and came hard on him again. It was borderline violent, a combination of inner and outer taking over her whole body as their angry expressions matched up, groaning out his name through her clenched jaw, keeping eye contact and making him watch, seeing the mess drip from her as she rose and fell on his cock.

“That its…” is all he gets out, no masculine power tripped words as he came shortly after she did. His hips thrust hard to each pulse of cum that he filled her with. A deep grunt followed each thrust, his brow low as he quickly moved up, sweeping her to him, splayed together still inside her as he kissed her. They came down together, breathing soon normal, mouths still intertwined and hands still exploring curiously. As he moves to kiss her neck, both hands warm on her back she sighs loudly.

“I missed you, Javi.” she whispers, soft from the exertion and orgasms and the way he warmed every part of her he touched. “So much.”

“I’m here now,” he answers with a flick of his nose to hers, scooping her up and rolling them to their sides. He gives her a soft kiss before pulling away, standing, and yanking the covers down. He gives a pat to her bare ass, a signal to move as he then covers her up. As predictable as he could be, he makes his way to the pack of cigarettes in the other room and she gets to warm up and watch his cute ass walk away. “You want one?” he asks, looking down the lit cherry at her, now getting under the comforter with her.

Instead, she reaches over him, grabs one from the pack, and lights it off his, still in his mouth.

“First time you did that I almost came in my jeans.” he grins, taking a drag. “Always thought it was one of the sexiest things you’d ever done.”

“I wanted to show off. Good to know it worked.” she smiles.

There’s silence for a moment as they bask in the quiet of the room, she angled against him and his arm over her shoulders. “Are you gonna stay?” his eyes swing her way, pushing back a wild curl in her face.

“Here tonight or… in general.”

“Both.” he shrugs casually.

“You want me to stay tonight?” an eyebrow raised at him, squinting as she smoked.

“First time for everything.” she’d never watched a girl stay after he called her up. She’d wondered how this would go down but she was continually pleasantly surprised. "No, I don't want you to leave." he states it as obviously as he felt it was.

“What happens when someone sees me leave tomorrow?”

“Who says I’m not leaving with you?” he gives a nod her way. “You said you wanted to leave, right?”

“Yeah.” she answers softly.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweetheart.” his voice demanded respect she already had for him, but after the sex, she was happy to know he hadn’t changed his mind.

“I’ve got enough money. I just have to go back and get it. I’ve got visas and passports for both of us.”

“You work fast.”

“I had to.” she smiles, scooting in closer. “Couldn’t risk wasting time.” her voice is softer, she put her head on his chest. “Do you want to quit your job? Or do you just want to...dissppear?”

“No.” he takes a drag. “I’ll quit first. I don't want them trying to find me. Or you.” his arm swings in and rubs hers to comfort her. “I want to tell them to go fuck themselves anyway.” he grins, amused by the thought. “I can empty my account, well what little’s in it. Packing isn’t exactly a worry for me. Long as I’ve got you with me.”

“You’re a real Cassanova.” she kisses his chest and smiles into the warm fuzz.

“I mean it.”

“I know.” she nods and wraps her arm around him, letting the cigarette land in the ashtray by the bed. “It doesn’t feel real yet, is all.”

He nods, letting his cigarette join yours in the ceramic dust-filled pile. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up and I’ve been dreaming. Or in a coma from being shot.”

“No, it’s real.” she sighs and runs her hand over his healing side. “I’ve fantasized about running, and being with you has been such a pipe dream I can hardly believe you…”

“What?”

“Love me still.”

“Never stopped. I couldn’t. You said you loved me, why’s it so hard to believe I love you too?”

“Because no one has since you.” the answer hurt his chest, he kisses her hair and pulls her into a firm embrace. “I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“Shhh.” he strokes her hair back and keeps his lips to her bare skin. “We're gonna get out, Esme. We’re going to leave this shit behind. Because we have to. We aren’t made for this like we thought. We aren’t like them.”

So that’s how he’d slept at night. Truthfully she’d entertained the denial on occasion too. He was a good man who did bad things. She thought of herself as a bad woman, but if the one person whose opinion she valued didn’t think so, she’d have to change her thinking on the matter. Maybe he was right. They just weren’t cut out for this, and instead of shame for failure, she felt relief for the first time in a long time. “Where do you want to go?” her voice sounded weaker, sleepier now.

“Far away.”

“How are you with cold?”

“What does that mean?” he huffs out a soft laugh.

“I thought someone cold might be nice. Somewhere in Europe. It’s beautiful there. A nice secluded cabin...maybe some dogs.”

“That the European version of a house and picket fence and two kids?” he chuckles. “It’s not what I originally wanted but…” he sighs, “It doesn’t sound bad.”

“What did you want?” she sounded different, he tilts her face up so he can see her eyes.

“What I said I did, sweetheart. You, a home in San Antonio, figured we’d have a couple of hell raisers. Get old and fat together. Spoil the grandkids.”

Her eyes flutter for a millisecond. “You really wanted that?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I didn’t know that’s really how you felt. Thought you were just falling in line with what was expected of you back then.”

“I was always sure about wanting you forever.”

“Kids?”

The way she said it answered his question, that’s where the surprise was. “Yeah. You’d keep a kid walking a straight line.” he grins. “Put the fear of God in them.” a laugh builds and he kisses her softly. “Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. A man gets to a certain age and he starts thinking about these things.”

“I don’t know if I can… have kids at my age.”

“You act like you’re 50 hun.” he dismisses her worry without his tone being condescending. “I’m not asking you for kids, Esme. I’m answering your question. I wanted all of you. The good and bad. Even then.” he touches her chin sweetly. “As long I’ve got you I’ll be a happy man. We have so much time to make up for. Don’t worry that beautiful head about it. We haven’t even gotten out the door yet.” he gives her a lingering, comforting kiss.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.”

“I know you are, baby.” he whispers back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” her eyes were honest, a sincerity he’d not seen from anyone in years.

“Then that’s our plan. Plain and simple.” he seals his promise with a kiss.

“We’ll figure out the rest in the morning?” her eyes looked hopeful again, face nuzzling into his hand that stroked her cheek.

“We’ll figure out the rest together in the morning.”

In the morning they figured it out. It went just as they planned. Plain and simple. Together.

@jaegeeeeer​ @likedovesinthewnd​ @inkededucatednnerdy​  @biharryjames @ladamari68​ @past-romantic​ @weliketomoveit @shikin83​ 

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 11

here’s the next update, everyone! sometimes i wish i could update this more frequently than i do, but the writing has been slow going because of a) other pieces i'm working on and b) work kicking back into high gear 😣 but i really appreciate your patience all the same.

it's looking like this first part of the story will be about 24 or 25 chapters, plus a sequel somewhere in the pipeline. i'm actually really excited for it, but i have some questions about it for you that’d help me guide how i want to get it out! if you could leave a comment with your thoughts, i'd be super appreciative.

would you prefer the sequel to be from Marinette's point of view? or a mix of Marinette and Luka?

if you'd like a mix, would you like a retelling of Chronicles from Marinette's point of view, too, to balance it all out? 

do you like the narrative format? or should i try my hand at making it look more like a social media AU? or a mix of both?

thank you so so much! your feedback will really help me figure out what i want to do going forward 💙🎶💖

damn, uh. i wasn’t expecting you all to like that so much. i guess i just needed to give it a little more time to sink in.

it’s only a work in progress, but hey. here’s hoping you’ll like it when it’s all done. thanks for giving it a chance @itsdjbubbles

Marinette was looking at a billboard of Adrien Agreste back then. He’s not so stupid that he didn’t notice. And it wasn’t that typical Celebrity Crush Stare, either. He knew what those looked like. He’d worn them, sometimes even daydreamed about someone looking at him like that from an audience pit. This was different. This was… wistful. The kind that said something could have been, but never was.

Did Marinette… know Adrien Agreste? Like, personally? She had mentioned getting a letter of recommendation from his father, after all. Had she done some kind of special work? Or entered some contest? Maybe she’d only gotten a handful of passing glances when she had the distinguished honor of weaving through the halls of the illustrious Agreste mansion. (Luka didn���t actually know if it could be called “illustrious;” it simply looked that way from the outside, and it wasn’t as though any of the Agrestes had deigned to order food from his job, so it wasn’t as though he could just waltz in and find out.)

Something was there. And Luka didn’t need to find out what that something was. But he wanted to. Curiosity hadn’t killed him yet—

“Ow!”

Across the ping pong table, Juleka fans herself with her paddle, eyeing the ball that smacked him in the face as it rolls away. “Game, set, and match,” she says with a deadpan expression. “Should’ve known thinking about Bakery Girl wouldn’t help you win.”

“I wasn’t thinking about her,” Luka insists to no avail.

“Liar.”

He relents, rolls his eyes, picks up the ping pong ball. “One more.”

“Nah.” Juleka sets her paddle down and starts to cut through the greenhouse area on the Liberty. “It’s no fun winning when you’re all distracted. Even you letting me win is more fun than that.”

Defeated, Luka picks up the ping pong ball—the only victory, considering how many of them they’ve lost to the Seine—and goes after her. She was right to fan herself; it’s way too hot to function on deck, so he ties his hoodie around his waist and wrestles his hair into a short ponytail. Sure, it’s due for a cut and a dye, and sure, Juleka would pounce on the opportunity if he asked, but there are more important things to worry about than his hair. And it surprises him to even think that. “Honestly, I… didn’t think you wanted to bring her up again.”

To an untrained eye, Juleka wouldn’t have frozen or flinched, but he knows his sister better than that. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my God-given right as your younger sibling to rib you about any and every crush you have.”

“Do you even believe in God?”

“Only when you make me ride on the back of your bike.”

Touché. Luka stifles a faint laugh and sinks to the couch. Twenty-one years on this boat, and he’s never thought to question why there’s an entire vintage furniture set in a greenhouse. But then, he’s never been one to question his own mother—even if she’s made it a point time after time after time to question authority at every corner. At least it’s cooler with the glass to protect them, and Juleka looks so unfazed in all that black that she has to be stronger than that pathetic thing America calls an army.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He doesn’t bank on her saying yes, but these days, everything feels like it’s worth a shot. Even if he ends up kicking himself after. If he can survive winking at Marinette Dupain-Cheng and then having a full-blown conversation with her after, he can probably do literally anything else.

It doesn’t surprise him that Juleka shakes her head, but at least he doesn’t feel like kicking himself after all.

“Is it…” He pauses to gather his words; he’s pretty sure Juleka’s one of the only people he could do that for. “Is it one of those things that you want to forget ever happened? You know?” He knows. There are plenty of things he wants to forget, too.

“Nah,” Juleka finally says. “It’s more like… I don’t think it’s my thing to tell.”

Luka isn’t exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean; the only thing it tells him is not to ask her any more questions—that he should go to Marinette with them instead. And he’s not even sure that that’s the best idea. It might take a few more napoleons. A few more deliveries.

He decides to change the subject. “So I started talking to this guy.”

Juleka cocks her head and folds herself up on the armchair. “Huh. That was fast.”

“No, I mean…” He rolls his eyes. “He could get us a gig.”

This time, her expression shifts from sardonic to wary. He has to wonder if anyone else can see these little differences, besides him and Rose. “How do you know he’s legit?”

“I think a couple thousand followers and some DJ sets are pretty legit.”

“How do you know he doesn’t want something from you?”

“Well…” Luka holds his breath in his lungs. She has a point. A couple of points, actually. Sure, they’ve been private messaging back and forth for a few days now, but he still, admittedly, doesn’t know a whole lot about this Bubbles guy. Most of the content they post goes right to Soundcloud, as if the account is automatically linked to post every time a new song or clip goes up. And admittedly, the music is pretty good. Hell, he’s only seen that one silhouette, and that’s the closest he’s gotten to a photo. For all they both know, Bubbles could up and swindle them out of their own guitars. And it’s not like he’s actively trying to compare himself to Adrien Agreste, but he at least wants to keep one of the reasons that might make Marinette want to keep talking to him. It’s not as though all he has to do is exist and have his face plastered all over half of Paris.

It’s just…

It’s just that Luka’s wound his way around the internet enough times to know when kindness is just too kind. He’s been around the block with people who try to get to know him after one song or one close-to-tasteful selfie, only for him to find out exactly what they want from him. He’s gotten on with enough people who ended up blocking him or posting vague, passive aggressive things that he thought he knew—and then definitely knew—were about him. And if Bubbles really was on the Champ de Mars that afternoon, then there was nothing in that park that told him to be scared. Not a single suspicious note.

“I don’t,” he confesses. “Not totally. But I want to believe him.”

“Do you want to believe him?” Juleka asks. “Or are you looking for a reason to impress her?”

For a flicker of a moment—long enough for only his sister to have the eye to notice—Luka can feel his expression go sour. If his guitar weren’t safely downstairs, he’d be holding it close for his own security. Instead, he gets to his feet with a sudden rush of energy, and he makes for the watering can. The plants are looking a little dry. Or maybe he’s just looking for something to do. Something to need him for a bit. “Music’s been around for me before I even knew she existed,” he says, quiet enough for the rug and the upholstery and the leaves to absorb before anyone else does. “And it’ll be there for me till I’m dead and buried. It’s my guarantee, Jules, and I should at least pay it back for everything it’s done for me.”

“That’s not a no.”  At least she lets the silence hit before she says it.

Luka sets the watering can down, shuffles his way out of the greenhouse and back into the sun. “Yeah, well. Maybe I’m not totally opposed to it being a yes.”

What is his music, he thinks, if he doesn’t share it with anyone? Just another one-way conversation? Hasn’t he had enough of those?

Behind him, Juleka catches up and takes him by the wrist. “Come on,” she says with a conceding sigh. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

She flicks his little ponytail. “You need a re-up,” she says simply. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

So he puts his time in Juleka’s hands, and he’s never quite sure how long it takes, but he doesn’t mind her taking care of him while he tries—and fails—to forget about Adrien Agreste, and while he gives his messages with Bubbles another go. He even dares to post a picture—not of himself, but of his sneakers, cluttered with designs and as loud as the personality he sometimes wishes he had. The personality that only barely pokes through when Bubbles says something about a set and a club and a real, actual date and time.

look, ma. no vans. and no dollars. and no dates.

[blarrghe]

Wip Wednesday

thanks @morganlefaye79 for taggin me! This is something I’ve had ready to shove into Twelve Nights for a while now, and it’s a little heavy-handed but I also think it’s maybe the most important point this (ultimately very fluffy) story makes, and preachy DA character therapizing is pretty on brand for me at this point. So CW for discussions of trauma and addiction, because I aint about to romanticize that shit lol if I introduce a character with a somewhat tropey substance problem we go there. Anyway this is an incredibly long snippet but if you read nothing else from this particular fic, I think you should read this.

Under a cut -- alcoholism/addiction, the ways conversion therapy fucks a person up.

tagging the btv folks: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @ellie-effie | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @moonlightheretic | @kittynomsdeplume | @inquisitoracorn | @dismalzelenka | @drag-on-age

as well as some mutuals if y’all wanna: @midnightprelude @aymayzing @fandomn00blr @protect-him @barbex I love seeing your wips :)

"Hey," Taren spoke slowly, concern crossing his brows like it did sometimes, when he looked at him, "I don't know how to ask this, but," a very loud voice in the back of Dorian's head told him to shout “so don't!”. He managed to restrain it. Taren shifted his weight and played with his lackluster hair while he figured out how to ask the thing that Dorian already knew he was worried about. "Is this okay?" 

"You mean, am I okay." Dorian corrected, as he took a sip of the whiskey. It was delicious. Everything was delicious; stupidly wonderful and probably a dream, and they needn’t talk about things that weren’t. 

Taren nodded, the concern still swimming in his gaze. "You don't have a…" 

"A problem," Dorian supplied, finishing the thought for him while Taren swallowed, "with alcohol." 

"Sera said you were in rehab." Taren was apologetic again, looking away with his hand back in his hair. Dorian laughed, because he couldn't help himself, but it just made the concern in Taren's brows deepen. He attempted to reign it in. He supposed he would just have to do this conversation Taren's way: honest. 

"I was. Several times actually, but my problem's never been with alcohol." He picked a few more things off the cart while he spoke — apricot brandy, gin, and vermouth — pouring them in careful measure into a tall, stainless steel cocktail shaker. "It's with attention." He winked. Just because the conversation had to be honest didn't mean he had to give up all his charms. "You see, I've made some very unhealthy, very loud, very irresponsible cries for it. In response to which my parents usually tried to throw me into someplace expensive with nice clean white walls and scenic views, to fix me." 

He picked out a wonderfully green lime from the selection of citrus fruits in a little glass bowl on the cart and began rolling it against the cutting board. 

"They've spent an outrageous amount of money, trying to get other people to help me be normal." Taren was frowning at him, so he went on looking at the lime.

There was a small, silicone knife that matched the cutting board tucked into a special spot on the cart. He picked it up and sliced the lime in half, lengthwise, and gave its middle a little slit.

"Sometimes there would be a measure of religious fervour to go with: control your demons through strict routine and mind numbing repetition of verses! Doesn’t work, by the way, and anyone who says it does has more illicit secrets to keep than I do. But the quacks parroting fixes with pseudoscientific backing were the worst.” he shook his head, unable to contain a dark grimace from escaping at even this most casual retelling. “The last time though, I did actually learn something rather helpful." Taren came closer, and took a seat on the arm of the long leather couch closest to him, still watching Dorian with a careful frown as he told his story and sliced his lime. "There was this therapist, beautiful man," he looked up from the lime, catching Taren's frown and doing his best to counter it with a sly smile. "Understood right away what I was really in for —" he smiled at Taren again, dragging as much syrupy charm through the words as he possibly could, "that is, being attracted to men, not drugs or alcohol." Taren blushed, and satisfied, Dorian went back to fixing his drink, "we struck up a wonderful little friendship, or as much of one as therapists can have with the mad, I suppose." 

"Did you…" There was a hesitancy to Taren's speech that was different from the last, less concerned, and barbed with something. Was it jealousy? And if so, what did it say about him that he quite enjoyed it? 

"No." He said truthfully, "that would have been most unethical. I don't even think he was interested, if you can believe it. Didn't stop me from daydreaming of course — rehab is terribly boring. But no, nothing happened except talk. Therapeutic talk; he told me about rats." 

"Rats?" 

Dorian finished slicing one half of the lime into perfect little crescents, then squeezed out the other half into the shaker. "Lab rats with addictions to opiates." He clarified, "the Cage Theory of Addiction: give a rat a terrible little cage with a nice little lever that injects a drug straight into his little rat veins, and he'll keep pressing and pressing that lever until he dies." Taren looked upset; Dorian closed the shaker and screwed its cap tightly on, and continued, "the rat has a food lever too, but he ignores it, pressing and pressing for that magical buzz. More and more; more than he can handle. An addict." He picked out a short glass and swiped the rim of it with one of his slices of lime, then overturned it into a perfectly sized little vessel of sugar that was set out on the cart. "But, someone thought: let's do an experiment, and instead of just giving the rat a lever for food and a lever for the drug, they gave him a little rat city. With fun rat playgrounds and soft rat pillows and a few other nice rats to talk to. Guess what happened next." 

Taren just looked at him, not guessing. Dorian tutted and gave the shaker a dramatic spin, shook it, and then popped the lid back off to pour the concoction into the glass. "The little opiate-addicted rat got better. So comes the theory: the rat's problem wasn't the drugs; it was his cage." Taren nodded slowly, and Dorian left the drink cart to join him on the couch. He passed Taren the fresh cocktail with another sly smile, and took a seat. “I looked it up later; read the study myself because I am an insufferable know-it-all,” he went on, “and it turns out that my beautiful therapist had some of his facts wrong.” Now, Taren just looked confused, but if Dorian was going to be honest with him, he was going to be really honest. “No one’s replicated the findings — and it turns out the rats also started having little rat orgies, so that probably helped.” He laughed, though Taren still looked mostly confused. Dorian took a breath. “But, there was a truth there that no one had bothered to tell me before: sometimes the reason why is worse than the thing itself. Sometimes a change in thinking, a change of scenery…” he paused, “someone to talk to,” another pause, longer this time — he’d lost his will to make light of it, somewhere in there. “I’m not a bad person, I know that now.” he said, more quietly than he meant to, "but I live," he placed his glass of whiskey carefully down on the coffee table, and let himself look Taren in the eye, "in a very terrible little cage. And I've done things, things I'm not proud of, just to try to… escape." He shrugged, and picked up his drink again, "but these days, I've more or less settled in. Figured out how to be a productive little rat who doesn't take more than he can handle, usually." He took a sip of his drink, directing a hooded smoulder at Taren as he did, and downing most of it — getting drunk and doing it very much on purpose, "only rattling the bars on weekends, so to speak." 

[dodekakophonie]

Soooooo this will be a bit long but I just wanted to rant about something.

I just recently got back into 2 moons 2 because I missed MingKit and after rewatching episode 9 I decided to rewatch the entire series.

I live for the friendship between Wayo and Ming even though Wayo gets a bit neglectful to Ming because of his relationship with Pha. That can happen in a friendship and they work through it.

But why the hell is Pha such an idiot??

He meets this cute guy that is just moving into his dorm and starts insulting him because the cute kid has money? Or as we learn later the cute kid reminds him of his high school crush but looks better and doesn't wear glasses so he is an asshole to him and gets offended when the cute kid is a bitch to him back.

Then he gets jealous because one of his friends gets along with the cute kid while he himself continues to be an asshole.

Then he finds out that the cute kid is indeed his high school crush after a glow up and wants to woo him but gets jealous again because his friend also starts to woo the cute kid. Then Pha goes ahead and tells Forth that he can persue the Wayo and that Pha doesn't has feelings for him.

Then we find out that Pha has evidence that the cute kid had a crush on him in high school too but he doesn't act on this evidence until he made the cute kid cry...

Why is Wayo in love with such an idiot again??

We know that Pha fell in love with Wayo because he was sweet to a kitten and he fell for his caring personality (and he is caring but we all know that he can be a bitch too. His best friend even calls him a spicy bitch to his face. True friendship goals)

The only thing we know about why Wayo was in love with Pha in high school is that Pha played basketball and looked good while doing so.

And if anyone asks why Wayo doesn't try actively to date Pha, that's because he already tried to confess his feelings in high school but overheard Pha telling his friends that he only likes girls and would reject any guy that confesses to him. (There is this idiot again)

So Wayo has a valid reason why he is jealous of Pring and other girls but doesn't try to reach out to Pha and backs up if a girl tries to get to him. (And why he feels flattered when Forth compliments him. Hello!? Handsome hot guy openly flirting with you and beeing helpful and considerate while maintaining a tough and manly appearance!? And not afraid to do so in front of his friends!? If it were up to me Wayo should have chosen Forth but sadly he is in love with an idiot with the personality of a potato)

After Phana and Wayo get together their relationship displayes signs that I'm not happy with. Pha is possessive and overbearing and dismisses Wayos worry about Ming and even Wayos agency. When Forth called Wayos phone Pha put him on speaker and starts kissing Wayo to 'show you who you belong to'. He doesn't allow Wayo to get drunk and keeps him out of conversations. Tells him how to dress and fights with Forth when he is just friendly.

The only thing I like is that Pha tells every girl that flirts with him that he is taken.

MingKit is a much better love story. (And here comes the long ass rant)

Kit recognized Wayo at their first meeting at university but does as Wayo asks him to do an doesn't tell Pha that Wayo is the high school crush because Pha was an Asshole to Wayo. (and in this one scene we learn more about Kits personality then we do about Phanas the entire series. He is intelligent, caring, loyal and has a bit of a mean streak and rough exterior but also a heart of gold.)

When he meets Ming he checks him out but is blasé about it. Just a hot guy. (That he probably also already knew from high school because Wayo and Ming were always around each other and if he knew who Wayo was he should also know Ming) Beam says Kit should talk to Ming to find out if he and Wayo are a couple.

Then we learn that Ming remembers Kit from high school too (but didn't know Beams name, so that's telling) and flirts a bit with Kit and Kit gets flustered and starts cursing Ming out.

Then there is this cute friendship thing between Wayo and Ming again when Ming tells his best friend that he wants to try to date Kit but only if Wayo is okay with that and Wayo says yeah date whoever that's none of my business so Ming decided to up his game and we get that beach scene and conversation about the moon and the earth that will have a powerful impact later but he also fucks up tricking Kit into giving him his number and! He! Listens! When Kit said that Ming shouldn't follow him.

Later he and Kit are (grudgingly on Kits side) talking again and meet coincidentally at the gym (matching hobbies) and Ming asks him outs. Kit declines but when he has car troubles accepts Ming's invitation and we can see that he isn't against eating with him because there is this hot guy that flirts with him but he has no idea how to respond to that. But Ming gets him to promise that Kit will go out with him again if Ming wins the campus moon competition. (Also important for later)

Ming ends up winning the competition and as the campus moon asks Kit out again. While they are on this date Ming asks Kit for permission (!) to court him and Kit doesn't say no.

And we see Kit getting jealous because this hot guy that flirts with him and wants to court him still talks way to familiar with his ex girlfriend and frankly has way to many exes for him to feel comfortable to allow himself to fall in love with this playboy. Ming promises him to stop talking to his ex girlfriend to proof that he is serious.

Up to this point we see Kit act annoyed and dismissive but he never clearly rejects Ming which is the reason why Ming continues to flirt with Kit because he has hope that his feelings are not one-sided.

Beam tells Kit that he should date a girl again and then teases him about how Ming is flirting with him and Kit doesn't deny that that's the reason why he doesn't want to date a girl. Then Beam tries to get Kit to tell him if there is something troubling him but Kit says everything is fine.

Ming turnes up and the both of them get coffee (because Kit is prideful and not as dismissive as he acts. Just annoyed by himself and Beams teasing)

Kit tries to tell Ming that he's afraid of dating him because he doesn't want to get his heart broken (feelings!) and the two of them could have talked it out right then but unfortunately Beam chimes in to protect Kit and everything is complicated again. He drags Kit away from the café and Ming to have a heart to heart about his best friends true feelings but Pha has terrible timing and showes up with Ming in tow so Beam impulsively says that he and Kit are dating now.

I'm not really sure if Beam just wanted to help his friend out and thought that telling Ming that he and Kit are dating would help Kit to reject Ming because Beam had the impression that Kit doesn't want to have his heart broken or if he really had feelings for his best friend. (There is a reason why I call Forth and Beam the rebound couple) and Kit is shocked but playes along and Ming is heartbroken and Pha is confused.

After Ming leaves Kit tells Beam of and is angry at him so Beam leaves too and Phana thinks that Beam really has feelings for Kit even though he too is a player and a flirt (so Beams reason why Kit shouldn't date Ming is hypocrisy if he really wants to date Kit himself)

Meanwhile heartbroken Ming talks to Wayo about what happened and you can see the confusion and sadness pouring out of him. Wayo is a good friend and comforts him but Ming decides to get smashed.

The next day Ming wants to talk with Kit again to get a clear answer but his ex-girlfriend comes for a surprise visit (and is a bitch to Wayo - another reason why Ming probably broke up with her) and messes up his chance to clear the air with Kit and the two of them fight and Kit angrily tells Ming that he and Beam are dating to hurt Ming.

Kit goes drinking with his friends to drown his feelings and confusion in Alcohol. Meanwhile Ming tells his ex to let him be because their relationship has been over for some time now and they are not going to get together again and ends up at the same bar as Pha, Beam and Kit where he proceeds to get drunk quickly and passes out.

Kit brings a seemingly drunk Ming back to his own dorm room because Pha ditches him but Ming faked his level of drunkenness and kisses Kit and! Kit! Kisses! Back! And then kicks Ming out of bed. Because that's how Kit is.

(At this point I'm just retelling the story but it's a good story with character development. Unlike Pha the potato who went from annoying asshole to lovesick and possessive asshole)

Ming is on cloud nine after the kiss and flirts with Kit again and Kit accepts his flirting but also acts annoyed. That's why Ming is afraid that he crossed a line and backs up a bit but Kit doesn't likes him backing up and says he shouldn't keep his distance so Ming takes him on a date the next day.

And then there's Episode 9. Glorious Episode 9.

Kit needs to visits his parents for his father's birthday (that he forgot about) and Ming offers to drive him, well he insists actually and we learn that Ming knows where Kit lives. This is important backstory. He noticed him in high school to the point of following Kit home once to see where he lives! Just in case so he could bring Kit home one day. (And we know that he broke up with his last ex girlfriend because he had feelings for someone else. Ergo Ming had a crush on Kit since high school) Ming also noticed that Kits parents always took him home and now he wants to make a good first impression on them. Because he is serious about dating Kit. After Ming tells him that Kit responds that a traditional chinese family couldn't understand their love (he implies the he loves Ming! And doesn't deny it when Ming asks about that)

and after an illuminating conversation that Kit has with his own ex girlfriend at the mall where he wants to buy a gift for his father, we know that there are definitely feelings involved because he also doesn't deny that Ming is his boyfriend when she asks about his handsome companion. She even encourages him to be open about his relationship. Kit is relieved and happy that she accepts him.

At Kits house Ming wants to kiss Kit goodbye and the two of them are caught by Kits older brother. Kit is panicked and Ming tries to be calm and tells Kieng that he is Kits boyfriend.

After Kits brother yells at the both of them Ming is invited to eat with the family and Kits parents and grandmother like Ming. ('Kits friends are like our own sons')

Ming stays the night and wants to convince Kit to let him sleep in the same bed as him but Kit throws out that he isn't his boyfriend (yet) and of course Kieng heard him. Kit says that he was just kidding to placate his brother who is ready to throw hands. Kieng wants Kit to stop seeing Ming but Kit begs him to let Ming prove himself and that he doesn't want to stop dating Ming. Kieng relents and gives Ming the shovel talk.

Later the two of them are in bed and finally talk about what they are for each other. Ming talks about the first time he saw Kit in high school during a sports event and they were on the same team but Kit gave Pha who was on the opposing team a bottle of water. (He noticed Kits loyalty)

Ming says that he wants to be the perfect in-law for Kits parents and Kits responds that that would be to far into the future and Ming should focus on the near future first. Ming then asks Kit if he remembered Their conversation on the beach about the moon and the earth.

'The earth must be very important for the moon because the moon revolves around the earth and if there were no earth there would be no moon' and then Ming says the most powerful and romantic thing: 'Kit - you are my earth.'

And this is such a powerful thing to say because Ming became the campus moon for Kit. So he could date him. If it wasn't for Kit Ming wouldn't have tried so hard to win the competition. And that he took Kits words on the beach to heart hits so deep.

But Kit isn't fully convinced yet. He asks Ming if he is really sure about him even though Kit isn't nice, is foul-mouthed, can't show emotions easily etc. (Kit is really insecure about himself and it hurts) and Ming says yes. If he couldn't take Kit as he is, he wouldn't have tried so hard to date him. Kit is his nearest future.

Kit says yes.

He finally said yes because he was getting tired of acting cold to Ming. Because he wants Ming. Because he loves Ming.

And I absolutely love how they behave around each other afterwards. They go on dates together, they go to the gym together. They are comfortable around each other with touches and smiles and small kisses and I live for it.

[the-resurrection-3d]

so what was ever good about acotar anyway?

For some reason, I’ve been very tempted to reread ACOTAR lately, and so I’m going to just make a quick list of what I remember specifically endearing the book to me back when I first read it in 2016 so we can compare notes later. This will, however, also include some retroactive criticisms now that we’re four years on from ACOWAR ruining everything forever. 

Twigger warnings for discussions of abuse, csa and neglect, as well as me using my complimentary R Slur Pass.

For some context: 

>Be 18yr me in 2016. 

>Be in your first semester at college. 

>Be so fed up with YA romance that you avoid books just for hinting at them in the summary. 

>Be also brainstorming a series with your roommate called The Cuckmaster Saga. 

This is probably going to sound embarrassing, but I’m being completely sincere when I say that part of why this book excited me was simply the novelty of finding a YA romance book that I liked. 

I’d fallen out hard with YA in general by this point in my life, partially because of a string of fairy tale “retellings” that clearly gave zero fucks about the source material beyond using the iconography in its marketing. Folklore had been my special interest for a while, and my excitement for the series and all its little extra niche references coincided with finally getting to study folklore in a true academic setting.

Which leads me to point one:

I love the idea of combining BatB and the Tam Lin ballad. I know some people have complained about this, but honestly, I enjoyed finding a retelling that mimicked the mix-and-match structuring of a lot of folktales. ACOTAR isn’t even the messiest or least coherent mash-up by a huge margin. Unfortunately, this aspect of the series severely lessened as it went along — remember when we all thought ACOWAR was going to be a Snow White retelling and then there was just one scene with poisoned apples? Lmao.

[If anyone wants an author who does YA mash-ups that are actually YA, I’d recommend Rosamund Hodge, whose books are always interesting in their sheer weirdness even when the story itself slightly falters. I mean, I wrote a whole 20-page thesis on her Red Riding Hood/Maiden Without Hands retelling and still didn’t cover everything I had thoughts on. (Tragically, however, I must inform you all that she is a Catholic Reylo. Rest in pepperoni.)]

It is fucking hilarious in retrospect that SJM clearly knows a bunch of different folktales and folkloric creatures but thinks it’s believable for shadowsinger powers to have no theorized origin “even [in] the rich lore of the warrior-people” (ACOFAS 65). Bro fuck outta here. 

But this leads into point two — Feyre and her family. It’s very obvious that SJM based Nesta and Elain’s dynamic with Feyre off the common folktale trope of having the youngest sibling be the only competent person in the room (and Katniss Everdeen). I thought it was honestly a lot of fun to see this trope done with some interiority; you can practically hear Feyre seethe about what useless hoes her sisters are between every line. I genuinely giggled through these parts on my initial readthrough. 

I’ve seen some people complain that Nesta and Elain’s behaviors aren’t realistic in this situation, but au contraire! Nesta and Elain’s actions in book one are (...almost) perfectly realistic. Without revealing too much, my grandmother grew up in poverty with a few older sisters, and yet my great-grandmother would make her do all the work and constantly force her to give up her possessions (like her car) to the older sisters whenever they wanted them. Even to this day, when they’re all in their 70s and 80s, one of these sisters still relies on my grandma to do basic shit like balancing her checkbooks. I’ve also observed similar dynamics play out plenty of times between an adult child and an overindulgent parent, with people literally ruining their lives and bodies all for the sake of sitting at home all day buying furry porn off the internet. 

Nesta and Elain are basically the psychology of this type of person split in two — Elain the soft, delicate, perpetually victimized front they put on for the world, and Nesta the ice-cold, bitter, and aggressive bitch they truly are. 

Honestly, the only thing I would change about this set-up is either keep Ma Archeron alive or give Papa Archeron more personality than a plank of damp wood. What’s truly missing here is a parental figure enforcing this fucked up dynamic — I don’t remember it being clear that Feyre’s always had this role, just that she took it on after her mom’s death. Making it clear that Feyre’s always been forced to be this way — alongside giving the mom more characterization — would have gone a long way towards making this dynamic feel more realized and less like the narrative using trauma and pity as a shortcut towards reader engagement. 

Then again, that would require SJM to have a female villain in this series who isn’t a rapist, and quotes I’ve seen floating around from ACOSF make it pretty clear SJM doesn’t know same-gender sexual abuse even exists. 

Anyway. 

Point Three (or rather 2B): Feyre realizing she doesn’t have to hang around her family just because she feels obligated to love them was a fucking banger. I loved it so much; having a story, especially a YA story, that showed you aren’t obligated to love a family that treats you like shit was so special to me. Especially since I was also leaving my family for the first time, and going home to visit them every other weekend felt like being hit point-blank with a Psyduck blast. 

Thankfully, my relationship with my family has gotten a lot better, but I’m still really disappointed that Nesta and Elain were forced back into the story, rather than them reaching out to Feyre and making amends because they wanted to do better.  The closest we got to this was the revelation that Nesta almost made it to the Border by herself after Feyre was taken, which was definitely badass, but also unfortunately the only Nesta scene I’ve liked in this entire fucking series. If SJM was going to force Feyre to regress into being Nesta and Elain’s tardwrangler again, then she should have followed up on Amren’s line in ACOWAR that Feyre treats Nesta and Elain the way Tamlin treated her. 

“I asked them to help once—and look what happened. I won’t risk them again.”

Amren snorted. “You sound exactly like Tamlin.”

[. . .] and I said, “She’s right.”  (169-170). 

But I’m sure everyone who’s read ACOSF knows how well that’s going. 

Point Four: the femindhjdfhfdh I can’t even write that with a straight face. I mean let’s be real, I too enjoy seeing female characters I like become queens and all that other stuff, but it was clear to me even on my initial reading of ACOMAF that it was all shallow and designed to help delineate good guys from bad guys without much in the way of nuance. It certainly took me out of the experience a little, but at least it ties into the books’ themes of recovering from abuse and shacking up with a Certified Women Respecter. 

My actual point four: Truthfully I only bought this series for the meme of having the first shitty love interest getting cucked in the second book. ACOWAR gave me some complicated feelings on Tamlin, and I honestly think he should have just stopped appearing in the series after that — BUT, having him be dragged back in once per book just to call him a cuck and cockslap him around a little bit is fucking hilarious. Pointless! But hilarious.

I also think that this kind of arc is a great critique of the standard “happily ever after,” acknowledging that in real life, you’re much more likely to just pass from one abusive household to another because you don’t know what healthy love, communication, and boundaries are. (Arguably many folktales are the fantasies of women who are well aware of this reality but want to imagine a world that’s otherwise). I definitely have a lot of problems with SJM’s claims of “sex positivity,” but acknowledging that Feylin used sex as a means of avoiding communication was another great touch.

I wish that this whole King of Hybern shit was completely cut just to focus on these themes more; it’s very clear SJM only included it because fantasy series = BIG EPIC WORLD-ENDING STAKES!! I've read maybe ten pages of Throne of Glass, so I can't speak for how she handles epic fantasy there, but I know for me and a lot of other stans, the Hybern plot had licherally nothing to do with what we liked and connected to in these books. 

But I must soften here, because I totally empathize with feeling like big stakes are “necessary” for a fantasy story and that no one would want to read your books without them. YA fantasy is the reason why TV Tropes coined the term “romantic plot tumor,” after all. (Source: I’m making shit up.) 

What else… what else… uhhhhh. I think that might be it, at least for substantial things I don’t have to qualify too much. I of course have plenty of little things I used to like but have now been tainted because ACOWAR ruined everything forever and ACOFAS danced on the graves (such as how I liked Lucien but everyone in the books shits on him now to the point it’s stopped being funny). But this post is too long anyway.

[pedropascallovebot]

the way it’s calling me

The Mandalorian x Tangled AU

summary: a certain mandalorian isn’t sure if this it’s a capture, or a rescue mission when he meets the bounty he’s been sent after.  

aka, din isn’t sure how he keeps getting tangled up in these situations. 

a disclaimer: i wanted to retell one of my favorite stories, but i did take some liberties! i very much hope you guys enjoy. :’-)

—

Din didn’t care for under the table jobs for a multitude of reasons.

For starters, there was no telling how far the bounty could of gotten on foot. There was no telling if she was even alive, or what she was really on the run for.

He was offered a hefty amount of credits as a down payment for finding a runaway daughter, and an unwavering amount of riches and reputation when said asset was retrieved. (He wasn’t counting on the latter, but business in the guild was slow and a bit of extra money for ship parts wouldn’t hurt, he supposed.) The woman who sought him out as he was walking to his ship from the Covert was in shambles, tears streaming and practically shoving money in his face. How could he say no?

He did say no, actually. Din said no three times before she said her daughter would die if he didn’t find her, and what was the Mandalorian, a soldier, a protector, supposed to say to that? He hesitantly took his money, and when told there was no tracking fob, he almost threw it back. Another reason to despise these off the record commissions. If he wasn’t assured the girl was most certainly on this planet, he’d be halfway back to Nevarro by now.

But he didn’t throw it back in her face. Now he was right smack dab in the middle of an unfamiliar green planet with absolutely no direction, no name of a bounty, only a vague description of her appearance, and a place to bring her back to when captured.

Din doesn’t like the idea of going on an entire manhunt for basically pocket money, when it just sounds like an attempt to escape a helicopter parent. But he’s already taken payment, and it’s probably too late to regret it now.

—

Maker, he regrets it.

Bri’n is huge, and it’s all trees and dirt. It’s nearly impossible to find footprints or anything that can trace someone without a fob. He’s already deep in the forest when he finds the first manmade structure- a shack, with loud music, and clearly lots of alcohol.

He knows this, because said shack reeks of liquor and general man smell, and he’s about to give up. There’s absolutely no way that the bounty could be here, but he’s come way too far to not at least check, and he nearly fucking faints when he looks inside.

Of course, he thinks. Just when he’s about to start toying with the idea of violating too many codes of honor, he sees a girl from the window who looks suspiciously enough like the description the woman who hired him gave.

With the nonsensical thought of “pulling a fast one” and bolting with the money, (which Din knows he couldn’t do- on his list of attributes, thievery was not one of them) the plan goes to shambles when he sees how many men are absolutely in awe of the first girl they’ve probably seen in a long, long time. Din was not looking for a fight with one bounty, let alone an entire gang of drunkards.

Walking in, every single lowlife who’s ever done anything slightly illegal is now twiddling their thumbs, which gives him free reign to do whatever he wants- which right now, is get this girl back to her crazy mother and call it a night. He walks directly towards the table, where the bounty is being offered drinks galore, and he stops right in front of her when she’s pushing away a full glass. If he wasn’t pissed off he took a dead end job, he might feel bad for this girl for having to repeatedly deny these chaavlas.

“Can I help you with something?”

He stares at her, and the collection of men stare back at him.

“What’s your name?”

He remembers quickly he never got a name from her mother, and this might be a problem. Could he really capture a bounty based on a guess that it was her?

“It’s-“

The skinniest, and by far tiniest of them all stands up, and gives his best attempt to match Din’s level.

“What business have you got here, tin-can?”

The entire bar is now very clearly enjoying the show, and it takes everything in him not to pull out his blaster and make this situation a helluva lot easier.

He turns back to the girl.

“Clearly, you have a lot of loyal friends here, but we need to get you back home to your mom,” he demands, attempting to scare off any defiance she’s going to give. “She’s waiting for you back home, and she’s worried. Let’s not make this anymore difficult.”

Her mother hadn’t really provided much intel about what level of threat she was. For all he knew, she could be wielding her own weapons, and he didn’t care too much to find out. All he knew was her mother had told him she’d employed many others to go after her daughter, and some had done it for free. She had expressed obvious displeasure about payment through her pleas for help.

“I’m not going home, so you might as well-“

Din isn’t waiting anymore; he goes to grab her by the arm when he feels someone grab his own.

“She said she ain’t goin’ home, didn’t she?”

A voice from behind him makes Din slowly turn around, which proves to be a mistake when a raging drunk goes to throw a punch at his beskar. Grabbing the culprits fist, he twists it backwards before grabbing the blaster at his side, pointing it at the contestant who was going in for the kill.

Din is certainly not getting paid enough for this.

He goes to push down the body of the fist he’s gripping, when he hears yet another voice from behind him- for the first time in his life, he’s relieved to hear it’s just his bounty.

“Listen to me!”

Din is in shock when everyone goes quiet. Even the man who’s got a weapon pointed on him has his focus on the girl who is now standing on the table. When the hell did she have time to get up there?

“I’m not sure where I am, and I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go, but I left my mother to find more than the fate that was waiting for me if I stayed with her. I’m looking for an adventure! Haven’t any of you ever wanted that too? Even you!”

Din realizes she’s singled him out, and from behind his helmet, his face goes unexpectedly red.

The man to his right speaks up.

“When I was nine, I once dreamed of adventure too!”

Looking to his side, Din sees the drunk man completely in awe of his bounty’s improv monologue. What kind of bar has he stepped into?

Then he starts speaking.

“When I was younger, I told my parents I was going out to pick up a compressor at the market. By the time they realized I was gone, I was halfway off the planet with a ship me and my buddies hot-wired.”

Din is now the one staring. The entire bar is silent, and not the type of scared silence he’s used to. All of these patrons seem genuinely interested in whatever the hell is going on, and even his bounty is looking expectantly at the man talking.

“Needless to say, we didn’t get very far. We flew and flew until we ran out of resources and landed here, and the four of us lived off the land until we found settlement” he continues, and takes a sip of one of the drinks that was still unoccupied on the table from earlier. “That was years ago. My buddies are all gone, but every day I’m still happy I took that leap, because look where I am now!”

He widens his arms and looks around at the dirty establishment they were currently in.

Din can’t stay here any longer, so he pipes up.

“That’s very nice, but I came here to get her, and get out-“

“I lost all of my money because of gambling!”

You’ve got to be kidding.

The same voice goes on when murmurs of encouragement are scattered around the bar.

“My parents were rebel fighters, and I was next in line to be, too! That wasn’t my type of gig, though, so I skipped town and got really good at Sabacc. Not too good, though, because one game later I’m out on my feet, completely drained of everything! When I tried getting ahold of my parents, they were nowhere to be found. Down on my luck, I ventured out, and hey, what do ya know! I found some work on Bri’n.”

For the first time in his entire life, Din realizes he’s accidentally let go of his fist of his attacker. He realizes this not by being punched, but because the attacker starts talking about his dreams, too.

“I once wanted to run an outpost for-“

Nope, nope. Din has officially had enough.

“I don’t care,” he points to his asset. “You? Come with me. Let’s get you home.”

“So everyone can share their dreams, but as soon as it’s my turn, everyone’s gotta go?”

And because not a single moment in this situation can go normally, the attacker pulls a knife out and points it directly at Din.

“Do you really wanna test your odds when I have a blaster? Because I like my own.”

“What are you gonna do, Mando? Shoot me?”

Din wasn’t planning on shooting him, but he didn’t like being provoked, so he points the gun at his leg and pulls the trigger. This sends the drunkard into a fit of pain on the floor, and makes everyone turn away. The show was over. He turns to his bounty, and slides the gun back into the holster at his side.

“You ready to hit the road?”

He’s greeted with an empty chair.

Fuck.

[sweetiepie08]

Time not Wasted (Part 2)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fanfiction.

Rian, Mira, and Gurjin get a night off of guard duty and decide to spend it at a nearby tavern. As they drink and celebrate their night of freedom, they laugh, make mischief, and create memories that will warm their hearts for years to come. Time is never wasted when it is spent  with the ones you love.

Part 1. Part 2. 

[-]

Rian looked around the table. Friends from all seven clans filled the seats. All were in Ha’rar for a summit to report on the rebuilding efforts after the skeksis were dislodged and defeated. But it wasn't all business. Rarely were they all together like this. It was time for some fun. “Alright,” Gurjin, the self-appointed master of ceremonies, spoke up, “Everybody ready to drink their way around Thra?”

“Everyone took out their flagons and bottles. Rian brought one of his favorite Stonewood brews and he was excited to share it with the rest of them. He looked around the table and wondered which drink would be the best to try. The plan was to taste the drink from each of the seven clans. They had Stonewood ale, Sifa rum, Vapran liquor, Drenchen moonshine, Spriton wine, Podling lager, Dousan wellspring water (the only nonalcoholic drink of the bunch) and, most dread of all, Grotton glow spirit.

“So here's how it's going to go,” Gurjin began once everyone had their drinks on the table. “I've got the symbols of each seven clans…”

“And podling,” Hup chimed in.

“Yes and podling,” Gurjin went on, “in this bowl.” He presented a wooden bowl with several folded slips of paper in it. “I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. Whatever I pull out, that's what we'll try. Shall we begin?”

A cheer rose from the table and Gurjin picked the first paper out of the bowl. He unfolded it, looked at it, then fold it up and put it back.

“Hey, hold on, hold on,” Naia protested. “Who was that?”

“I was Dousan, but we can't start with the wellspring water, alright?” Gurjin explained. “Deet’s got glow spirit. We’ll die. Okay, picking again.”

Gurjin reached back into the bowl and plucked out a slip of paper. “Stonewood,” he announced. “Okay, we're easing into it. What have you got Rian?”

“Alright, everyone pass your cups,” Rian said, producing a small wooden keg. He opened the spout on the bottom, filled his friends’ cups, and passed them back. “Stonewoods have brewing recipes by the thousands. Everyone's got different tastes and you can easily start a pub brawl by insisting one brew is the definitive best. Harvest Gold is generally agreed to be among the top tier of brews.”

“This Rian’s favorite?” Hup asked, accepting his pint.

“I like it alright but…”

“Oh here it comes,” Gurjin cut in.

“What?” Rian snapped, turning to his friend.

Gurjin rolled his eyes. “Here comes the lecture about what makes a good beer and why everyone else’s opinion is wrong.”

“Are you drunk already?” Rian retorted with a smirk. “When have I ever said everyone else’s opinions are wrong?”

“How many times have we argued over beer?”

“That doesn't mean I think everyone else’s opinions are wrong,” Rian shot back. “I might think your opinions are wrong.”

“Sours,” Gurjin said as if that settled things.

“Oh now you're bringing up sours?”

“I got you to renounce your opinion about sours, remember?”

“No, I renounced my opinion on people who drink sours.”

“What's wrong with sours?” Kylan asked.

“Aye, I like sours,” Onica added.

“They're just…” Rian sighed, “so bad…” He let out a long, disgruntled breath. “But you're allowed to like them.” He laughed wearily. “So anyway, I prefer a stout. That’s what I was about to say. I like the dark brews. As far as pale wheat beer goes, this one is one of the best.”

“Alright, enough talk,” Gurjin interrupted. “Let's drink. Vliya!”

“Vliya!” they answered back and they tipped back their tankards.

“Very refreshing,” Kylan said, taking another taste of his.

“Thank you.”

“Alright,” Gurjin drained his and slammed it back down on the table. “Tastes like beer. Moving on.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute!” Rian protested.

“What? The stone Woods export their beer to almost every clan. We've all tried it before.”

“I thought it was good,” Deet put in with her sweet voice.

“Of course your mate's going to say that,” Gurjin answered. “Deet may as well be drinking water.”

“What does he mean by that?” Rek’yr asked.

Deet shyly played with a lock of her hair. “Grottons tend to be less sensitive to strong drinks than most gelfling.”

“Famous Grotton alcohol tolerance,” Grujin added. “You'll see it at work later tonight. Speaking of which, let's move on with the show. Who’s next?”

They moved on to trying Sifa spiced rum, Vapran mountain mist, and podling ale. Naturally, Gurjin felt the need to tease Rian about his beer snobbery.  “Well, I hope you’ve got liquid gold in that keg,” Gurjn had said. “Otherwise, you're not likely to impress him.”

Rian managed to surprise them by complementing the podling beer which he had to admit was very smooth. And Hup’s face lit up like a firework when he did.

As the night wore on, everyone grew tipsy and their different reactions started to show. Rian was starting to feel light and loose. Brea and Seladon became surprisingly giggly. Onica and Naia somehow decided they were best friends, despite having only met a handful of times before. Kylan stumbled through a bizarre retelling of an old gelfling legend while Hup drowsily mumbled back in podling. Rek’yr, unused to drinking in excess, possibly had the worst reaction. He leaned on the table, propping his head up with the hand, and closed his eyes. He also seemed to deeply regret his decision to sit next to Deet, who only became more talkative and she, apparently, decided it was time for jokes.

“So anyway,” she said, taking a long sip from her glass of Spriton BlackBerry wine, “so he knocks on the lady’s door and says, ‘I'm sorry. I've accidentally let out all your rock sprites and they flown away. I'd like to replace them.’ And the lady says, ‘I don't know if that would work. How are you at fertilizing glow moss?’”

“I'm sorry, I'm confused,” Rek’yr said, slowly cracking his eyes open. “Did this happen to friends of yours?”

“This didn't happen to anyone. It was a joke.”

Rek’yr nodded and closed his eyes again, though it was questionable whether or not he comprehended what she just said.

“Delicious as usual,” Gurjin said, finishing his glass of wine. “Everyone ready to move on?”

“I am,” Deet said cheerfully, passing back her empty glass.

Rek’yr just gave a slow, resigned nod.

Gurjin reached into the bowl and announced, “Dousan wellspring water.”

“Oh blessed Thra,” Rek’yr muttered.

Gurjin poured a glass for everyone pass them. “Rek’yr, if your still able to speak in complete sentences, please tell us about Wellspring water.”

“The water comes from the Wellspring Oasis in the crystal desert,” he explained. “It's a sort of home base for my clan. The water is said to have restorative properties.”

“Oh, perfect because the two hardest drinks are saved for last,” Gurjin said.

This seemed to dampen Rek’yr’s mood some, but they all took their glasses of Wellspring water. It was shockingly cool and refreshing. The best comparison Rian could come up with was catching fresh snowflakes on his tongue in the winter as a childling. Amazing that water from the desert oasis could bring snow to mind. And the restorative properties seemed to be at work as well. He could always feel his head becoming clearer.

It was a good thing too. Gurjin was right that they would need that break, because the next slip pulled from the bowl was Drenchen. That meant moonshine.

Grujin and Naia wore matching grins as they took out the clear glass jug filled with possibly even clearer with liquid.

“I don't like that I can see straight through it,” Seledon remarked, regarding the jug with some suspicion.

“Gurjin…” Rian said in a warning tone, “don't do to them what you did to me.”

Gurjin slapped a hand on his chest in feigned offense. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Rian threw him as stern a look as he could muster. “Tell them.”

“Fine…” Gurjin sighed. “Okay everyone, the secret to moonshine is tiny sips.” He passed out glasses which barely had anything in them. Having tasted this particular moonshine before, Rian thought that was for the best.

When they all took a drink, Rian was rather proud to be one of the few who wasn't coughing. In fact, it made him nostalgic for his training days when he and Gurjin would sneak a drink late at night.

He heard Deet chatting and looked over to find her talking Rek’yr’s ear off with her full drink still in her hand.

“I learned the names of all seventy-two types of glow moss when I was a childling. Moss husbandry is actually a hobby of Papa Mitjan’s. Anyway…”

“Deet,” Gurjin interrupted, “try your drink.”

“Oh right.” She tipped the glass back, emptying it into her mouth, and went back to her story. “What was I saying? Oh yes, when I was in school, I did a project on the different levels of luminescence in each type and I found…”

“Deet!” Gurjin interrupted again.

“Yes?” she asked, turning innocently to the table who stared back at her in shock.

“You're supposed to sip that.”

“Was I?” she said as she looked down at her empty glass. “I'm sorry. It was lovely anyway. Here, pour me another one so I can get a better taste.” She passed her glass back to Gurjin and continued. “Where was I? Oh, anyway there's a type called Moonlight Moss which makes your wings glow bright white and that's what the name moonshine reminds me of.” She finished her story with a pleasant smile.

Rek’yr looked at her like she was a witch. “I'm sorry do you really not feel anything.”

“Now that you mention it, that did tingle my nose a bit.”

“A little tingle?” Seladon said, aghast. “That's it? Has science looked into you?”

“They have actually,” Brea interjected, “and it's theorized the veins of crystal energy in the cave have given Grottons certain advanced abilities, such as sensitive eyes and ears, increased durability and pain tolerance, and, as demonstrated tonight, a certain degree of immunity to poisons.”

“Look at her,” Onica grumbled, “Still bright as a guiding star. She’s putting us all to shame.”

“Guys,” Rian laughed, “I guarantee you, later tonight, she's going to be up in bed reading or something, sober as a stone, and I'm going to be hunched over a bucket, crying.”

“Well then,” Gurjin said, taking up the bowl again. “Let's waste no more time.” He took out the last slip and revealed the Grotton sigil. “Time for glow spirit.”

There was a collective groan around the table, save for Deet, who smiled at the mention of her favorite drink, and Gurjin, who grinned gleefully.

“I've never seen anyone so excited to face their own death,” Rian quipped.

“If I go out having fun with my friends, how can I ask for a better death?”

“How about one in your own bed?” Rian suggested. “After living to old age?”

Gurjin shrugged. “Overrated. So Deet,” he clapped his hands together. “Show us the good stuff.”

“I hope I brought enough.” She took out two clear bottles filled with a glowing blue liquid. “This is glow spirit.”

“What gives it that glow?” Kylan asked, staring at the bottles like they were filled with magic potions.

Rek’yr looked at them like they were filled with actual poison.

“It's made from herbs and flowers in the same family as glow moss, which gives it this color. To Grottons, it has a subtly sweet taste with a bit of a bite to it. To others, I hear it's… quite strong.”

“I thought it tasted like arathim poison.” Rain added, staring down the bottles.

“No, if it were arathim poison, Deet would say ‘finally, a strong drink,’” Gruijn laughed. “Wait, you tried it without me?”

“Papa Mitjan’s birthday day,” Deet explained. “It didn't go down easy.”

“I'm insulted,” Gurjin huffed. “We were supposed to try glow spirit together.”

“It was their birthday tradition,” Rian argued. “I didn't want to be rude.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had a pact,” Deet said. “I can invite you to Papa Lath’N’s birthday, if you like.”

Grujin shrugged it off. “Hardly matters now. We're about to try it anyway. But don't think I won't take you up on that offer.”

“Any tips for surviving this?” Brea asked.

“I'm not sure.” Deet tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “We don't really think about it too much. I suppose just try to ease into it.”

“Just don't let it linger in your mouth,” Rian added.

“Alright, final drink,” Gurjin announced. “Everybody ready?”

He was met with an uncertain cheer.

“Eh, sure you are,” he dismissed. “Three, two, one, vlyia!”

“Vlyia!”

They tipped the glasses back and almost instantly began to gag. Hup spit his directly back into his glass. Onica managed to swallow it, but her face scratched up like a raison. Naia swore loudly and wiped her mouth. Brea got caught up in a coughing fit while Seladon dove straight for her water. Kylan just quietly put his head on the table. Gurjin made a valiant effort to act like he was in much less pain than he actually was. Rek’yr battled with his impulse to be polite before muttering “poison” and burying his head in his hands. Rian, having learned from last time, had his water glass in his other hand, ready to chase the burning away.

Amongst the chaos, Deet contently sipped from her glass. “This is actually quite a good batch,” she mused, taking another sip.

“Oh, is it?” Gurjin squeaked. finally reaching for his water.

“Yes, the herbs are complementing each other nicely. It has a smooth finish…”

“Smooth?” Naia coughed. “Did she just say smooth?”

“I did say it tastes different for Grottons,” Deet said, taking another pleasant sip.

“And what a difference it must be,” Kylan said in awe. “I've never tasted anything like that.”

“You know what?” Gurjin said with a cocky grin. “My favorite of the night.”

“Would you shut up?” Naia groaned.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll push you off the chair.”

“Bet you can't.”

After a short scuffle, Gurjin ended up flat on the floor. “Ha! Told you I'd do it!” Naia boasted.

This elicited raucous laughter from the table. Gurjin popped up, no worse for wear. He reached across the table and grabbed a pair of spoons. “Rian, I hope you're not too drunk to play.”

“Oh, this is later than I expected,” he answered, taking the spoons.

“My inner Bard has waited long enough.” Gurjin winked and launched into an old gelfling folk song. Then Kylan joined in, then Hup, then the rest.

As Rian played, he looked around at their smiling faces, grateful to just have them all there, safe and happy. After going through so much hardship together, it still felt miraculous just to have a fun night with his friends.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 26: What the Hell is Glued to Valon’s Ass?

Well guys.

I should preface--since it’s effecting the voice I have in these recaps quit a bit--I’m still in quarantine and losing my entire mind. So, I took a break from making a whole lot of content because I actually can’t judge if anything I make is good or funny right now. I think it’s a weird consequence of making just so many decisions navigating things I won’t go into. tl;dr, It’s been ridiculous.

And so I’ve only really been on twitter, and it just so happens, that there’s been a bunch of really insane and juicy art fights going on that have kind of ramped up in insanity the farther LA goes into the red, (since most of art twitter lives in LA since art twitter is elitist as hell, which was it’s own very spicy art fight), but one of the most recent ones was...I kid you not...about if it was possible to make cannibalism ethical...and I threw my Wacom tablet out of the freakin window was like...y’all. I’m done.

I’m done!

I DON’T KNOW HOW ART TWITTER WORKS. At all. I don’t know what the people want!

And I was like, I need to look at something that came out before this epidemic. I just need this and so we’re back to Yugioh. I have no idea if this post is any good, because again I can’t judge my own abilities anymore, and I probably sound very very salty, and whatever, but at least I’m not talking about freakin cannibalism in the middle of art twitter. At least I got out of that mess, amiright?

I can’t get worse than cannibalism. I can’t get worse than certain people at the top rungs of art twitter that are absolutely going to eat somebody at some point in their life and I don’t really want to be a part of that club nooooo thank you.

Like Yugioh is pretty effed up, and I will eat these words (just the words) but I’m pretty sure we’re not going to venture into cannibalism.

So anyways, I had to read my own recaps to catch up with what is even happening, and so for those that forgot, like me--Everyone is sort of standing in the middle of the road in San Fransisco and there’s a bunch of orcs everywhere.

Seto is still in denial. Maybe he just assumed Roland threw out a bunch of hologram projectors all over San Fransisco and so there’s just...monsters everywhere? I mean how prevalent is his hologram trash?

We barely even have parking, why would we have hologram projectors everywhere, Seto? San Fransisco barely has HOUSING. Even when Google Glass was a thing, we only whipped those bastards out at parties for the gram. They weren’t actually USED.

Somewhere in like...the grossest park in SF, (like there’s a light pole that’s tipped over? There’s weeds everywhere? No playground equipment? What is this?) Valon and Joey are...throwing cards at eachother. Not much to say about this interaction other than Valon is going to be in a robot suit the entire time, and no you did not miss anything, I just don’t go over the cards here, and...that’s his card schtick--he gets in a robot suit and punches you in the balls. That’s it.

(read more under the cut)

Speaking of getting punched directly in the balls, Mai is still on the hunt to murder Joey Wheeler, because that’s how she’s decided to work through her trauma. Just kill a completely unrelated person to the one who actually gave her the trauma in the first place. Sounds like American politics in 2020.

I will say, it is nice that we have a consequence to the Marik season and a little more depth into Mai, I just wish we had more of an explanation of how she jumped this far other than “I dunno, man, Orichalcos.”

Anyway, she sees the Bat signal and was like “Valon, you had one job”

Bro brings up that Mai seems hella jacked now and like...yeah...It has to be a real workout to do a bunch of wheelies all day on a heavy motorcycle. Go for it, girl.

Valon’s robot suit has robot vision, by the way, and it’s extremely 00��s UI.

mmmm just like Samus Aran.

Can’t have a Yugioh show without beating up your protagonists for a good while. At this point in the series, just comparing trauma of one character to another, you’d think Joey would be the one with trauma that makes him murderous as hell. Instead, he’s remarkably one of the most stable people here. Especially compared to Valon, who is this strange hypocritical broken record of “you gotta let Mai make up her own mind” while doing his very best to manipulate Mai.

If they had both left eachother alone, then Mai would have been way more likely to come back to her senses, just throwing that out there. Valon was a guy who latched on too much, and Joey was the guy who didn’t latch on at all--she needed a good in-between guy. A good in-between guy over the age of 21. It’s a shame that this type of guy does not exist on this show for her to hang out with. 

So Valon flashes back to the moments directly after he introduced Mai to his dad (Dartz) and Mai got possessed with Oricalchos powers.

After Mai refuses to join the team, she joins the team and directly kills Pegasus. To which, she was like “Oh yeah, I don’t actually have any personal agenda against this bastard. He’s just some guy who kills other people, this is just normal vigilante work.”

And so Joey decides he should share flashbacks, since that’s what we’re doing now, and we get a slight retelling of this scene in S1.

In this retelling it’s different because the hanky was actually holding the money card. This was not how it originally went, the card was given separately--but they had to do SOMETHING to make that hanky make some sort of sense, so it...has a card now.

That’s kind of the Yugioh solution to every problem, actually--just put a card on it.

(EDITORS NOTE: OK so apparently, actually-turns out the hanky DID contain a card originally in S1 but I just hella forgot--and normally I’d change this to reflect that but like my mind is full of quarantine spaghetti, so I’ll just leave it as is for posterity because I don’t feel like rewriting anything.)

What IS it though?

Don’t think about it too much, but what IS that?

On the other end of town, Seto remembered that if he spends too much time with these people, they might accidentally mistake it for friendship.

So...Seto Kaiba joined them so he could take back Kaiba Corp with the team, and then just...forgot I, guess. Maybe he got the munchies. A shame to be Kaiba, San Fransisco has NOTHING open past 11 PM except for bars. It’s not really like New York, SF sleeps really freakin good.

So now that Kaiba’s gone, Rebecca has to guess his password.

She’s supposed to be some top tier hacker but she doesn’t have a program to test these permutations for her? Whatever, girl.

And then, out of no, where Tristan had a panic attack.

Mom friends have to do that some times, they have to carry the guilt of their stupid children. But TBH, I kind of forgot that Tristan exists so it caught me off-guard.

Hey I kid you not, I went back to art twitter for a hot second, and there’s this person I follow who is very popular because they’ve drawn this one ship for I want to say 20 years--and they generally make very pretty art. And they recently drew their shipping pair on a set of matching toilets--facing eachother without any bathroom stalls--and they’re just...poopin while looking at eachother. I just...

What Is Going On With Art Twitter!?!?

I need to retire!!!

I don’t understand anything at all going on outside my bedroom, y’all.

I mean I guess I fell for it, I did click the image to see it in full--just in case it WASN’T a picture of them pooping but...no....that’s just what it is.

I need to delete my twitter account.

Anyway, stay safe out there, it’s a mess.

here’s the link to read these in chrono order if you’re bored and you just don’t want to go outside today, I get, I’ve been there, been doing that.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Mysterious Broom” || YEAR 3 – Ch.22 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 9/22/2020

Word count: 3,395

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather skipped through the corridor, smiling at the mysterious lights shining from inside every suit of armor, her heavy bag bumping against her thigh with every leap. The air smelled of toasted pumpkin pies and syrupy-thick sugary drinks with nutmeg, the halls sparkled brightly from the outside light reflecting off the streamers hung from ceiling corner to ceiling corner.

The halls echoed her shoes and the thumping of presents as she made her way to Gryffindor tower, presenting herself to the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

“Here to duel me, are you? Well head my warning! I never lose!” He raised his sword up and jumped into fighting stance, his horse yawned in the background.

Heather rolled her eyes and knocked on the portrait.

“Fight me!”

The portrait opened and Hermione jumped and hugged her close. “Merry Christmas!”

Heather groaned under her tightening hug. “Hermione! Too tight!”

Hermione pulled away and stepped aside to let her in. Heather took a seat by the fire and ate some toasted round nuts from a bronze saucer while Hermione got her presents down from her room. They snacked and talked about how nice it was to have windows and be so high up and be able to look down at the white castle grounds in the winter.

As much as Heather loved how green and dark and mysterious the lake looked through the Slytherin common room’s massive window, she did wish she could look out onto the grounds during autumn and winter sometimes. The lake always looked the same no matter the season.

The clock over the mantel had struck ten and Hermione decided to go wake Ron and Harry. Within minutes the three of them were running down the stairs and diving into seats next to Heather, ready to exchange and open presents.

Harry fixed his crooked glasses. “Alright. Weasley presents first.”

They took the lumpiest parcels and shredded it open. They had each gotten brand new knitted sweaters in their respective house colors along with knitted socks, a dozen mince pies – home-baked of course – with a box of nut brittle to top everything off.

“I love her sweaters!” Heather looked at her brand new green sweater with a silver snake knitted at the front instead of a giant letter ‘H’. She looked at Harry’s sweater and smiled. “Your old sweater is getting a little short on you right?”

Harry nodded and crunched on some nut brittle. When Harry had gotten an emerald green sweater with the letter ‘H’ stitched inside she had been more excited that eventually she’d get that one too than the fact they were twins and could finally match like twins always did.

They opened cards next, not signed but it did mention studying hard and they figured it was one of the ‘lame’ teachers – as Ron put it – wishing them a Merry Christmas.

“Hagrid’s next?” Ron picked up a parcel that behaved a little too much like a giant rock wrapped in brown paper.

They agreed and together heaved their rock-like packages forward and began opening it. They stared at the contents for a while.

Ron blinked several times. “A rock? It’s a rock.”

They had each received a large jagged lump of muted brown with specks of black and swirls of dark grey. Heather tipped her rock over and saw a carved wooden grater. She picked it up and scraped it down the side, watching as little brown shaving came off the rock with ease.

“Ohh!” Hermione waved the little card around that had come stuck to the brown paper. “They’re ‘Brazilian Cocoa Danburites from Erosional Caverns’ according to Hagrid.”

Heather stuck her finger in the shavings and sucked them off her thumb. “Mmm!” Her heart soared with delight at the thought of being able to scrape cocoa into warm butterbeer all year long. Sometimes Hagrid really knew the perfect gifts to give. She wrapped it back up and put it aside. “Next?”

“Mine,” Hermione pushed several presents out from behind her and handed them out.

Heather opened hers quickly, excited to see what Hermione had found after she had told her she wanted a nice pot. She rolled out the object and gasped at the beautifully painted silver pot. It was small enough to hold in one hand but large enough to grow a good sized large-leafed plant. “It’s amazing!”

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled. “I painted it myself – but don’t worry. I made sure the paint wouldn’t mess with the charms.”

She looked at the pot again with new eyes. “Charms?” She hadn’t even considered that wizard pots would have charms and spells put on them.

“Yeah. The witch said this one is good for beginners because it creates the perfect environment for the plant so it’s harder to kill it.”

Heather raised a brow. “Thanks for your confidence in my herbology abilities. You know I got a better score than you on my giant hogweed plant last week.”

“What are you trying to say with this, Hermione?” Harry lifted a long orange comb. He pressed a button and the teeth started moving like on a chainsaw.

Ron laughed. “Alright, I agree with her on that gift for you.”

Heather laughed and poked a very unamused Harry with currently long and untidy, shaggy hair. Ron had received a bag of candy and a bottle of grammar ink and it was now his turn to give them each a can of butterbeer. They opened them up and drank while they unwrapped Heather’s presents that were actually rocks but painted to look like their faces. They laughed at that and opened Harry’s next, which were some left over vanilla cakes from Honeydukes.

Ron who was already stuffing his face with a vanilla cake pointed at a long thin package forgotten under the coffee table. “Harry, you forgot that one.”

“Oh.” Harry bent down and placed it on the table, moving all his presents aside. “It doesn’t have a note.”

“Who’d send just you a present?” Heather crossed her arms, feeling a ‘famous Harry Potter’ moment coming on.

Harry smiled and wriggled his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Maybe if you’d open it,” Ron handed him one end of the twine holding the brown paper together.

Harry pulled the twine free and slid out the present, gasping as a brand new slim and shiny broomstick hit the table. “I don’t… I can’t believe…”

Heather’s jaw dropped and Ron almost jumped out of his seat. Hermione took the paper and immediately started looking for a note.

“A new broom? Why? How? Who – ?” Heather ran her finger down the handle and gasped, feeling electricity run through her body, immediately reminding her of the feeling of wind through her long tangle-y hair.

Harry only shrugged and picked it up, the handle glittered as it moved, perfectly polished. The firebolt was identical to the one Harry had been looking at during their stay at Diagon Alley. He stood up and Heather with him, followed by Ron, all eager to see it in action. Harry let go suddenly and the broom stayed hovering in the air, ready to be mounted and used to surely win any Quidditch game against anyone.

“It’s amazing,” said Harry hoarsely.

“But, but who sent it?” Hermione was now retracing Harry’s steps, yelling from the bottom steps a few feet away. She ran upstairs looking all over the ground. “It’s not your aunt and uncle, right?”

“No way,” Heather and Harry unisoned.

Ron took a step closer and started walking around it, taking in every detail. “Must have been Dumbledore then! Like with your invisibility cloak!”

Heather shook her head, getting pushed by Harry. The three of them were now walking around the broom. “No, he only did that because it was our father’s.”

“Or,” Ron continued, “It is from him, but he can’t say it’s from him because then gits like Malfoy would say it’s favoritism!”

Heather stopped and Harry and Ron bumped into one another. “That WOULD be favoritism.”

Ron wasn’t listening. He pulled Harry’s sweater sleeve, “Wait ‘till Malfoy sees this! He’ll get as red as a tomato seeing you fly on this thing! It cost more than all the Slytherin brooms combined! And FASTER.”

“If it’s even allowed,” Heather was starting to panic now. This broom was the fastest out there. Any team who played against Harry would surely lose in under a minute. “This broom might not – ”

Ron crossed his arms and faced her, “It’s an internationally standard broom, this is. Malfoy. Will. FREAK.”

Harry’s smile widened, lighting up his eyes. “This… This is great!”

Ron started jumping up and down and hooting with glee. Heather crossed her arms and sank into one of the chairs, throwing a pillow down angrily. She’d never hear the end of this now. What little popularity she’d started to cultivate in her house would surely all whisk away the moment any of them saw Harry’s new broom. They’d all look at her like it was her own fault he got the better broom. And she could hear it now from Pansy and Draco, ‘Why’d we get the worse twin in our house,’ and ‘Can’t you try not to be a failure for once, Heather?”

How was she supposed to compete when every wizard, baby and old, knew and loved Harry Potter, the boy who lived, defeater of You-Know-Who. For all they knew it could have been a random fan who heard Harry broke his broom from a dementor attack. She sighed and crossed her arms, kicking at the pillow she’d thrown down.

Ron was still laughing when an even worse thought popped into her head. She was the one who convinced her team not to play last match! With Harry’s new broom, everyone will be wishing they’d played him before he broke it! Now that really was her fault. She squeezed her cheeks, zoning out on the broom, and pulled them down in agony. She was doomed.

“What,” Ron tried ceasing his laughing fit. “What about Lupin!”

Harry pulled his arm back from the broom and laughed. “Lupin? If he had this much gold, he’d buy himself new robes.”

Ron shook his head. “But he likes you! Besides he went somewhere, so he could have gone to Diagon Alley. Maybe he heard what happened and decided to buy it for you while he was out.”

Heather tuned back in. “Went somewhere? Went where? He was sick the whole time.”

Ron shrugged. “Well he wasn’t in the hospital wing. I had to clean the bedpans for Snape’s detention before I could go to the match. And after your match, he still wasn’t there.”

“He must have been sick in bed.” Heather rolled her eyes. It was so easy for Ron and Harry to jump to conclusions. It certainly wasn’t Lupin who sent the broom.

Hermione came back down with a look of worry. “I searched under your beds and the note didn’t fall in there.” She’d been searching for a dropped card the whole time they were examining the broom.

“Alright.” Ron narrowed his eyes at her.

She bit her lip. “Not alright… I mean… It’s weird. Like you’ve been saying, it’s an expensive broom… It’s odd that Harry would just receive one.”

Ron stepped forward. “Loads of people love Harry! Any one of them could’ve gifted the broom.”

“But who would want to keep it anonymous that they sent it?”

Ron must have guessed where she was going because he quickly turned to Harry. “Can I ride it? Let’s go test it out outside! Play with Fang again.”

“No!” Hermione put her hands up. “N-not yet! None of us should ride it yet.”

“Well what else should we do with it, Hermione? Sweep the floors?” Ron scoffed.

Before Hermione could get mad at Ron, they heard banging and tumbling coming from the boy’s dormitories. They all turned towards the sound.

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you!” Ron ran for the stairs. “Scabbers!”

Hermione looked apologetic and ran after Ron. “Crookshanks is just playing!”

Heather remained seated, looking at the broom. Harry went back to inspecting the golden engraving.

From upstairs they could hear Ron yelling. “GET. THAT. MONSTER. OUT. OF. HERE!”

“NO CROOKSHANKS, DON’T GET IN THERE!”

There was a high pitched warbling noise suddenly. Heather and Harry ran up to see what had happened. Heather clapped her hands to her ears and stared inside Harry’s trunk. Crookshanks was hiding and Scabbers was trying to dig further into Ron’s pocket, trying to get away from the noise.

“Ah,” Harry picked up a round object – the pocket sneakoscope – and stuffed it into a sock. It was still going so he shoved it under as many clothes as possible until it was barely audible.

Hermione took the chance to pick Crookshanks up as he recovered from hissing at the noise. “There, I’ve got him.”

Ron pointed at the door. “Great. Then get him out!”

“You don’t have to yell!”

“Just keep that bloody vicious monster away from my rat! He’s trying to eat him, Hermione! Not play! They aren’t pals!”

Hermione huffed and ran out of the room.

Ron slammed the door shut and took Scabbers out, putting him on his bed. “It’s alright, that evil creature’s out now.”

Heather eyed Scabbers and shared a look with Harry. As much as Ron was trying to keep him alive, it looked like Scabbers would soon pass naturally anyways. Once so round, he was now thin as toothpicks. His hair was in patches and his ears drooped. He normally would have scampered away and now lay on the bed, unable to gather the energy to bolt – although that may have been because minutes ago he was running for his life. But still. He didn’t look good.

“Have you been giving him that rat tonic?” She didn’t think it’d help much if he was. She doubted the tonic could put off death.

“Yeah, but it’s not helping.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to him. “Maybe it’s just stress,” he put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

Ron nodded and tucked Scabbers into bed. “You rest. That stupid furball with teeth is gone.”

They left the boy’s dormitiories and Ron shut the door tight. They walked downstairs to Hermione, who was sitting with her arms crossed.

“Crookshanks is in my room. I’ve closed the door.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Ron was being unnecessarily harsh but no one said anything. Hermione really should be more careful with that cat. Heather sat down on the couch and looked at the fire, staring at Harry’s broom as darkly as Hermione was.

She was trying to come up with plans to get him to not use it. But none seemed fair or plausible. His Head of House would obviously be more than happy to let him use it… and Professor McGonagall would surely fight anyone who suggested it was unfair. Not like Professor Snape would help her with the problem, even if it did concern his own team. He’d probably help Harry just to spite her…

She shook her head. No, he hated Harry more, he’d choose her over him any day. And Lupin wouldn’t do anything, he liked them both equally. She couldn’t owl Draco either, since he wasn’t supposed to know. She creased her eyebrows, getting really worried now. What if she got kicked off the team for ruining their chances?

For the second year in a row they’d lose the House Cup because of her. Well, she sunk deeper in her brooding state, last year wasn’t her fault either. She didn’t know she was picking the wrong tunnel, just like she didn’t know he’d receive a brand new broom – best in the world broom. Marcus would understand… wouldn’t he?

No. She could see it now. Cassius standing up on the crystal coffee table, right before the team left for practice. ‘Are you sure you want a traitor like Potter on your team Flint? She planned this. She KNEW Harry Potter would get a better broom. She’s one of them! She wishes she was a Gryffindor. She’s betrayed us.’ Marcus would turn to her and only shake his head, indicating her permanent termination from the team.

All the small friendships she had started to grow would be put out in an instant, too. No one would want to be friends with the Slytherin House’s personal enemy. Even the girl who sleeps next to her, the nice one she’d found out, whose name is Cindy and let her borrow a few berries to give to her toad, would ignore her. If even Cindy would ignore her, she could only imagine how bad Pansy would get.

Pansy would start bullying her again, but worse. Before she’d just be annoying and no one would care. Now her mean spirited jokes would make her more popular. Heather shuddered to think.

Harry wiped a soft cloth over the broom’s handle where Ron touched it. Heather frowned at them. But she wasn’t going to sabotage Harry’s chance at playing on a broom. She couldn’t. Could she? Maybe she could just tell him how bad this would be for her. Have him use her broom and hide that one away until next year or something. She closed her eyes in frustration, realizing why it wouldn’t work. But they had to play each other eventually! Thanks to her stupid dumb plan from earlier!

She should have kept her mouth shut. Then Marcus would have a losing team and Heather would not be associated with it at all. Next year he would’ve stayed clear of Cassius for sure, thinking he was some sort of bad luck.

She had a sudden realization. She wondered… could she hint at Draco to get a broom like that before he came back to Hogwarts? Harry and Ron were still wordlessly drooling and Hermione was still brooding in her corner, glaring at the poor broom.

Heather got up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to put my things away before lunch.” No one said anything as she picked up her bag full of presents and left the room. She closed the portrait and ran down the steps.

She bolted down the main floor corridor and took the dungeon steps two at a time, knocking into something so hard they both fell down.

“Potter!”

She stood up quickly and jumped back against the wall, quivering at the familiar deep voice that had just yelled.

Professor Snape shook his long hair slightly and dusted off angrily. He stood towering like he normally did when a student mouthed off to him. “Next time I hear or see you running down those stairs you will receive a day’s detention for every step.”

Her brain was numb with adrenaline and for some reason the only thing she could think to say was, “There’re thirty-six steps.”

He frowned and looked at the stairs. “Then that’s thirty-six days of detention you’ll be facing… So don’t do it again. You’re lucky I wasn’t carrying any potions or I’d have you clean the whole dungeon floor before dinner.”

Heather nodded and fixed her stance. She realized her arms were spread on the wall like she was being cornered by a ferocious wild cat of the mountains. She pulled her bag closer. “Sorry, Sir.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why all the rush, Potter.”

“Just… need to send Draco a letter. As soon as possible.”

He arched his brow but said nothing. He turned, apparently deciding the interrogation was over, and swept up the stairs.

Heather breathed out, amazed she hadn’t gotten expelled right then. Maybe it was a sign things couldn’t possibly get any worse. She smiled and ran to the common room door. She wrote a quick letter, trying to stealthily hint at Draco to buy the newest broom and ran back out – walked up the steps – and ran all the way to the owlery to pick the perfect owl to send.

She made it back just in time to climb a few stairs and bump into Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their way to lunch.

“Why’re you sweating?” Harry stopped and stared.

She shrugged, “I bumped into Professor Snape… I thought he’d expel me for it. He didn’t.”

That was enough for them so they headed down to lunch together in the same quiet silence as the morning had ended up being.

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[florianwirtz]

Tears - Anyone You’d Like

Warning: strong language

"Will we see us again? I really had a good time with you."

You blinked a few times confusedly before you answered the question with a plastered smile on your face.

"Of course, I'm texting you whenever I'm free, see you soon." You even had the decency to look back and wave until you ran to the bus stop, a sour expression on your face.

Another failed tinder date later, you found yourself at your best friend's couch with a glass of wine in your hand. Luckily, he always had an open ear for you whenever your day didn't go the way you wanted.

"He really spent the whole date talking about how fucking awesome he apparently is and managed to make everything about him. I swear I was that close to spilling the wine over the table so he could shut the fuck up for once."

Frustration was taking over you which made you finish your half-full glass in one go and your best friend only chuckled slightly while observing you silently. He never grew tired of listening to your failed date stories because the way you were able to retell stories and spilling all your emotions was just so hilarious.

“I told you these tinder dates will lead to nothing. You should give one of my teammates a chance, they're all lovely, I promise!” He suggested after you were finished with ranting and you only rolled your eyes at him.

“While I appreciate your lousy attempts of playing matchmaker, I already told you I don't want to date a footballer, I don't think I could handle being second choice to a freaking ball!” A short laugh escaped your mouth which made him laugh too, but you saw that he wasn't really listening anymore as he was busy scrolling through his socials.

To avoid awkward silence, you pretended to do the same as a sudden wave of sadness hit you. Because of course, he didn't understand why you were still accepting all these tinder dates when you were fully aware that this is definitely not the platform to find the love of your life. How could he know that you refused to go on dates with one of his teammates because you couldn't help but compare every single footballer to him.

Something deep inside you still somehow hoped that you'd end up with him. So you used these dates as a distraction, an excuse that you haven't found the right one yet.

And just as you thought about how naive and stupid your feelings were, the reason you felt silly went down the stairs.

"Hi you two! [Y/N], I didn't know you were coming!" She gave you her sweetest smile and you couldn't help but smile back. The hug she gave you felt warm and genuine and once again you just knew that she was the right one for him. How could you hate her when she never badmouthed you once for always showing up at your friend's house because you wanted to feel his presence near you.

Not even the miserable feeling in your stomach when she bent down to him and kissed his cheek softly which made both put their happiest faces on could tell you that you shouldn't be happy for them.

"Hi! Yes, but I was about to go, it's late." You answered her politely, ignoring the pang in your chest when you realised that they only had eyes for each other.

"Really? Let me drive you home then, it's late and you had a drink." She didn't even give you time to refuse and went searching for her car keys, leaving you and her boyfriend alone again.

"Thanks for having me and sorry for always barging in, she probably doesn't like it and I try not to do it so often anymore." You chuckled while holding him in your arms. Nothing made you feel more secure than being able to share physical contact with him while smelling his signature perfume.

"Stop saying that, you are always welcome. She knows how important you are to me. Have a safe ride home." He lightly brushed your cheek which made your whole body tremble and never were you happier than now that you could blame the burning shade of your face on the wine you had consumed.

You knew it was only a gesture of a trusted friend, yet it was all you could think about the whole ride home. Which is why you barely paid attention to what she talked about but she didn't seem to mind as she cluelessly continued talking. Only when she mentioned his name, you suddenly came back to reality.

"You ordered that cake for his birthday next week, right?"

"Yes, of course, the carrot cake from the bakery located in the neighbourhood he came from. It's gonna be delivered to your house on his day, it's all planned." You explained to her and saw her smiling while paying attention to the street.

"He's so lucky to have you, the amount of effort you put in his birthday is so heartwarming. I'm going to make sure he does the same for you."

She said it with such reassurance, for a moment, you weren't sure if you were able to hold this fake happy facade any longer. Because you still couldn't believe that she found all these sweet words for you when you were nothing but horrible to her by secretly wanting her boyfriend all to yourself. You were lucky that it was dark outside so she never noticed how a few tears escaped from your eyes. 

And the pain in your heart returned but this time not because of jealousy but because you realised how awful of a human being you are by not being able to let go of a dead crush.

A few days later you were invited to one of his games and it wasn't just any game but the decisive game of which team was going to the cup final.

Of course, you wore his name and number on your back but it didn't feel any special as he always had gifted you his kits whenever a new season started, it was a tradition since he went professional and for you as a football fan a great collector’s item.

She was also here and you were both twinning as she wore the same kit as you, only that hers was a man size, probably stolen from him. You even posted a pic on social media together, capturing it with “game day x” and expressions for the support of his team.

His family always managed to be present which was a rather rare occasion as they lived far away from his current residence. However, you knew from childhood days that they were always the proudest whenever they saw him play. And of course, they loved her, she was the perfect girlfriend anyone could ask for and she already told you that his family already made her feel like she was one of them. Life could be so perfect if you’d only see him as your best friend.

The game couldn't be any closer as both teams were equally strong, chances missed and converted from both sides and in the last 10 minutes, the scoreline showed was 1-1.

Both of you were nervously trembling, the tension whenever the opponent had the ball was unbearable and it seemed like it was going to extra time. But then a player of his team saw an opportunity and sprinted as his life depended on it, making the opponent's defenders look like fools. Finally, in front of the goal, he was crossing to his teammate who smashed the ball into the net with a beautiful header.

The crowd erupted, you and she in the family lounge hold each other tightly, screaming with joy and pride with the others in the room joining as well. And the few minutes of extra time after the deciding goal felt like an eternity, you and she never let go of each other's hands, too afraid that the opponent could turn this game around, but his team fought back until the liberating final whistle was heard.

You saw his team celebrating with each other, grinning like a Cheshire cat and also finding yourself in her arms again.

“I'm so proud of him, you have no idea.” She squeaked excitedly and you agreed with her, hugging her even tighter.

Finally, after all the post celebrations and interviews he came up to the family lounge, the people in this room applauding him with immense pride when they spotted their golden boy and he was greeting one after another.

Then he made his way to you and you just ran up to him and hugged him wordlessly, burying your head in his shoulder.

“You were fucking awesome there. You gonna win this trophy for sure now.”

“God, you are amazing. My supporter even when I accidentally smashed your mom’s vases back then. Thank you.”

You could feel your heartbeat so fast, you even thought you might pass out in a moment. This moment just felt too intense to end but it wasn't long until he slowly let go of you and you snapped back to reality.

And the ugly feeling of rejection came back when you saw him running up to her, kissing her passionately on the mouth and leaving a few other kisses on her face. They whispered sweet nothings to each other inaudible for everyone else and never noticing how they were lost in their own bubble. You stood on the side, no one noticing how you hold back a few tears in the back as they were busy in taking pictures of the two lovebirds.

Then his birthday came up. He still had training on this day but his coach assured him that there was no training the day after so he decided to celebrate in the evening after training.

So you found yourself in his house, helping his girlfriend to organise the party they had planned.

"Can I ask you something?" She suddenly asked you as you were in the process of decorating the table.

"Uh sure." Unsure what to expect, you both stopped arranging the glasses on the table as she sat down on the sofa, pointing to the place next to her.

"Do you think him and I are a good match?"

To say you were flabbergasted by her question would be an underestimation as you looked at her utterly aghast. What was she implying?

"What do you mean? Of course, you are?! You and he are perfect for each other and I bet you could ask anyone and they'd say the same."

She hesitated a bit before she answered, visibly uncertain about your statement.

"People on Instagram beg to differ."

She referred to the pictures he posted after the game he won. It contained a series of pictures including his family, you and her. "Finals! Always grateful for all of them supporting me."

You hadn't had a look at the comments before, but most of them were either about her or you. How you and he would be a much better fit, that you and he seemed to have more chemistry, simply based on two photos he had posted.

"Don't listen to them, sweetie. They don't see what we see every day and we know that you belong together." Comfortingly you put your hand on her shoulder while her expression still remained doubtful.

"But you still know him better than I ever will. After all, it was you who told me what he likes and how we should organise the party. It feels that after all these years, I still don't seem to know him like you do."

Unwilling to accept her self-doubt, you forcefully shook your head.

"It doesn't matter how well I know him. You are still his and his only. And while he loves me a lot, he loves me differently. He will always love you more."

How you managed to say this without bursting out into tears was beyond your understanding. Maybe if you told yourself this often enough, you'll start to accept it and maybe you were finally at the point where you should be able to move on.

However, when she gratefully took you in her arms, thanking you for trying to build her up, the relief in her voice obvious, you could feel your eyes watering. Because you knew she wouldn't even take a look at you if she knew what kind of feelings you were hiding.

The conversation was long over and forgotten when one of his mates finally brought him home, his house full of guests singing happy birthday to him as he entered the living room.

Obviously, he was left speechless at the number of people who had come to the party. He was even more surprised when he found out that it was you and her who organised all of it and immediately, he embraced you both at the same time, whispering "thank you my favourite girls".

Everyone was having a good time and even you could temporarily forget about your problems for a while. It was also an opportunity to get to know his teammates and you were positively surprised as most of them weren't too bad of a company.

It was all going well for you until he was asking for everyone's attention. No one really knew what was going on but he managed to make everyone surround him and his girlfriend, visibly wanting to announce something.

"First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for coming and making this day special. I feel extremely grateful that I know people like you who care so much about me."

Everyone in this room applauded him but stopping soon as he gave a signal that he wasn't finished talking.

As the applause died down, he took both hands of his girlfriend in his and looked her deeply in the eyes.

"I also wanna say special thanks to my girlfriend who always stuck by my side no matter what we've been through. I don't think I could ask for anyone better than you."

Suddenly he went down on his knee, everyone in this room holding their breath, knowing exactly what was coming while she held both of her hands in front of her mouth as he pulled out a box with a shiny ring out of his pocket.

"So I wanted to ask you if you would give me the honour and let me make you my wife?"

And she was now crying tears of joy, nodding with her head so much as if she had never been more sure of a decision.

Finally, the ring was on her finger and the people around the couple who were holding each other happily began to film and cheer with loud noise, celebrating and congratulating the couple in front of them.

You, on the other hand, stood like a brick wall at your place, not moving one bit as you still needed time to process what had happened a few minutes before.

Luckily for you, everyone's attention was given to the couple as no one noticed how you discreetly made your way out of the room.

You barely managed to reach the toilet and lock it up as you immediately fell down on your knees and finally, you let all the tears you had held back all the time streaming down your face.

You knew you should've expected it, you knew there never had been a chance in the first place, yet you couldn't help but feel heartbroken and alone. Because now he had made his definitive decision, he intended to spend the rest of his life with her.

And maybe this was your final call to ultimately move on from a love that was never meant to be, to finally let go of a person who was never yours in the first place.

Eventually, the tears stopped pouring and you took your time to sit on the floor for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. Your make up was ruined by crying so you tried your best to make yourself look normal as much as possible. Right now, no one was supposed to notice your pain, later when you were home by yourself, you had enough time to let your true emotions show.

Carefully, you sneaked out of the bathroom and by the looks of it, no one had noticed your disappearance or breakdown. So you approached him with your brightest smile who was still surrounded by other people congratulating him. "My best friend is growing up and I can't believe he didn't tell me! Congrats on popping the question!" You took him in your arms as he hugged you happily back.

This time you broke the hug before you could feel anything more than you should.

Of course, he immediately noticed your face which was still red from the tears you had cried, making him look at you with a concerned face.

"Did you cry? Is everything alright?"

It wasn't easy to lie directly into his face as you still felt like you could burst out in tears at any minute but for his sake, you continued smiling.

"Of course I did, because I was so happy for you, idiot!" Playfully you smacked him on the shoulder and laughed which immediately infected him too.

"God, I'm so glad to have you."

And for some reason, his words didn't seem to affect you as much as they used to, you no longer felt like your heart could explode at any minute. Maybe these tears you had cried before were the first step of letting him go. Maybe these tears were necessary to get you through the process. Maybe when you saw him with her the next time, you will already have your happiness back.

Tell me who you imagined this with!