#fans stop overstepping boundaries challenge

[hwaightme]

Your fan, Yunho (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

🎮 pairing: yunho x game developer!reader 🎮 genre: fluff, slice of life, opposites attract, serendipity, humour 🎮 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if yunho was stanning you 🎮 wordcount: 3.8k 🎮 warnings/tags: language, reader is a developer, coding and gaming is life, yunho is a gaming enthusiast, discussions of social anxiety, implied depressive episode, yunho teasing season open, mingi covering a corpse song, business friend saves the day, slight angst, rumination, ibb and obb, yeosang is a legend (best homie), mingi is a wingman, let me know if anything else 🎮 a/n: Hello! And thank you so much for the love and support!! Here is part two for Your fan, Yunho, where things go WILD. Previous part can be found here. Any likes, asks and reblogs appreciated and.... stay tuned for more things to come~

Totally the type of duo to make username matched smurf accounts.

He was not sure what you would approve of, so he pushed his fantasies aside and pretended like he was also thinking of the duo name for the first time

You caught yourself overthinking, biting your lip in frustration, totally unaware of how hyperfocused Yunho was on your image on his screen.

Giving yourself a mental shove, you blurted out a suggestion, making Yunho glow at how unbelievably cute you were when even the tiniest bit shy.

And that was how you became "Ibbity & Obbity", homage to the two-player puzzle-platform coop game.

You two formed a rare dynamic. Having moved from chatting on Steam to Discord, you were happily alerting one another of when your ults were charged, or when you had a good opportunity to snipe someone, or when either of you needed support.

Initially, that was all you spoke about, with you not daring to deviate out of your comfort zone, and Yunho not wanting to hurt you or stop talking.

He could pay to hear you babble away about why one character was better than another or deep diving into why some obscure game's server crashed the other day.

These gaming sessions were almost instantly discovered by the other members, and the teasing was unstoppable.

Interestingly, Wooyoung, who had been there in the moment you two 'spoke' for the first time, kept it pretty tame, settling for suggestive winks and occasionally joining in if it was a game he liked (or if he was struggling with a part of Aenigmata - not that you would reveal any cheats)

Oh no, the most brutal was his best friend, Mingi, who had somehow convinced Hongjoong to record him covering the song "E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE" and playing it at full volume while they were at dance practice and wanted to try a bit of freestyling to warm up.

Needless to say, that evening Yunho had been more bashful than you had ever seen him before, attempting to mask it with laughter that came to haunt you in the best way possible, and when he noticed Mingi slipping (read as barging) into his room, phone in hand, nearly drop kicked the poor guy.

And that was the moment you knew you never wanted your time with Yunho to end. Talking to him was effortless, and he had an undeniably positive influence on you while never overstepping boundaries or challenging you.

The sessions were becoming less about the game, and more about each other, as you began to inquire after how his day was, how we was feeling, if he ate.

If someone had hooked up the heart rate monitor to him the first time you had, after a long pause (to the point where Yunho started checking his wifi), veered off your usual topics and directly addressed him, asked about him and him alone... they would probably wonder how he was still alive.

Words spilled out of him like a waterfall as he shared with you all the stories he had saved but never would have guessedyou wanted to hear.

And oh boy, how you did. How you wanted to see what he saw, do what he did, go where he went. There was a pang of jealousy for just how connected he appeared to the outside world, and just how much love he got to experience day to day.

But for the time-being, you brushed that off, deeming it to be something insignificant. What mattered was that, Yunho was ecstatic, and you too, for the most part.

As time went on, he was getting busy with more schedules, practices and had to divert his attention back to, well, his job. With your gaming/deep talk calls starting later and later, getting shorter and shorter, it was obvious that your routine was quickly becoming unsustainable.

He was an idol after all, and his entire lifestyle did not constitute physically staying in one place.

And who were you? A person who was perfectly content with staying in the comfort of Cogent Studio or your apartment, living a digital daydream. Your world was far-removed from the sold out stadiums. Far removed from the huge teams of stylists, managers, designers, coaches, and, basically everyone who Yunho would normally interact with.

You were just pixels on his screen, an illusion. Extended fan service. He probably lied about liking Aenigmata just to appease you and fool you into spending every day thinking about him.

Why did he have to charm his way into your heart, most probably with the full knowledge that it was not going to go anywhere?

So you did what you did best. Shut down.

Yunho was in a panic? Did he do something wrong? Did something happen? Were you okay?

A day, two more passed, and you had not logged into neither Discord nor Steam, or were purposefully hiding from him. Yunho scouted all of your streamer friends, Twitter accounts, YouTube, quite literally all accounts that he could think to be associated with you, but found nothing except standard announcements and activity not related to you.

He was out of it. Though he was not slacking off, and as a matter of fact even added to his workload to try forgetting about you even if for just a second, both his members and eagle-eyed fans noticed a change in his demeanour.

The energy maker, the happy virus. Those titles now sounded more like a curse to him.

It was like you were malware in his brain that he could not trace nor erase. And while performing, while being there in front of thousands, all he could ponder was if there was a possibility you would be bothered to see clips from the concert.

His members, who initially were merciless with their jokes, assuming that this was nothing to worry about and you just got busy, saw that Yunho's disposition was getting progressively worse.

He would toss and turn as a bout of insomnia got the better of him, mich to the dismay of his roommates.

Normally respectful of the cleanliness in their apartment, Yunho became more absent-minded and, risking his own life, left paper cups on the kitchen counters a couple of times.

Mingi could not stand his friend suffering anymore, so being the creative genius he was he made a suggestion that may just be a ray of hope.

Go live, and play Ibb & Obb.

Whilst Yunho had been struggling to keep a straight face and not fall apart on stage, you were crumbling in total isolation.

You were communicating with your colleagues almost exclusively through Github, newly pushed code being the best way to see that you were still out there... somewhere

Your co-founder, being the sweetheart that he was, had taken over any social media interactions that required senior involvement

And the rest of your team instantly adapted to your hermit mode, seamlessly continuing to communicate with you but via less personal means.

Normally, this extreme reboot would have worked in a day, however things were not looking bright.

You were feeling heartbreak, and so acutely, that you was very much an illness.

And paired with the overwhelming sense of guilt, three days in after 'the ghosting' you completely ceased to function.

It was your friend, the one who had given you your light and darkness, your reality in the form of Jeong Yunho, that dragged you out of your bed sheet  cocoon.

You had been watching some of Yunho's fancams and funny moment compilations, simultaneously wanting to beat yourself up until you blacked out for letting such a wonderful, kind and understanding human go.

When you suddenly heard your front door SLAM OPEN, leaving you wondering if it entirely flew off its hinges or not, and saw your friend's figure in the door frame to your bedroom, in a battle pose.

"WAKE THE FUCK UP SAMURAI, WE'VE GOT A CITY TO BURN"

No amount of pleading could save your from the wrath of a friend who wanted to get you out of the wreck you created for yourself.

Once she had you cleaned up and forced you to change into a cute outfit "for the vibes", she sat you down and made you walk through, step by step, what happened.

Last time you had gone into such a state was because of your participation in a particularly large convention, where you had the opportunity to share the stage at an event with some legends of the game development scene.

And it would have been fun, had you not had a persistent fear gnawing at you, for hours on end as the event progressed. From the busy booths and  overcrowded fan events to the handshakes and talking and faces upon faces upon faces who all but blended into one large, disfigured and unidentifiable monster.

By some miracle you managed to stay standing, all the way until you walked into your hotel room, and had what had to be the closest thing to a personal apocalypse.

Since then, even a lateral association with crowds without a screen to separate you, or an in person interaction over which you had minimal control sent you spiralling down into an abyss.

Basically the very opposite of what Yunho thrived off.

The more you explained, about your perception of his social life, about his work day and even about his friendships and personality, the clearer it became to your carefully listening friend that you were head over heels, but equally terrified.

Because you fell in love with what was pretty much an alternative universe to you.

An yet, as your friend then explained, she could see that, more than ever before, you were willing to fight yourself and your demons to try your best and be a part of that universe.

For goodness' sake, you were a designer of whole worlds. Out of your brilliant mind came to fruition many best-selling games, with one having a storyline that was being considered for a movie adaptation.

You had a vision like no other, one where the most complex systems were much-admired intricate works of art. With you designing every piece and putting it all together.

You had the skills, and now it was time to apply them 'irl'.

The rest of the day was spent by listening to your friend giving you pep talk after pep talk; little did you know, the same thing was happening to Yunho, except instead of one life coach, he had a total of seven, shouting over one another, almost hopping from place to place on their large living room sofa.

The next day you were proud of yourself to have slept and woken up at a reasonable time, and better yet, you did pretty well in emulating a morning routine.

While you were booting up your computer, a notification popped up on your phone. ATEEZ YouTube channel? You were perplexed. Reading the title, your soul almost left your body. It was a Yunho and Mingi live. Without a second's pause, you tapped on your screen, to unveil the pair, sitting side by side, attempting to set up screen sharing.

You couldn't quite place a finger on it, but to you Yunho appeared more... sad? Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but something felt off.

As you continued watching, you noticed just how gentle Mingi was with him. Making playful jokes, reading compliments from chat out loud and acting every bit like an older brother would, which from your understanding was not usually the case.

Finally, they set everything up, what you saw made your head spin. The puzzle platform coop. The game that you and Yunho had played a couple of times, but most importantly had based matching usernames off.

Before they started, Yunho went into an explanation of the game, its history and why it was special, and you noticed very familiar language. Language you had used when explaining the game to him. And once they launched into the game, of course he chose the character that his username was based off - obb.

You realised. This was his final call. You had to act, and act fast.

So you did the unthinkable and contacted the one other person who you felt you could comfortably speak to out of your newest acquaintances - Yeosang. You had also connected with him on Discord, though barely spoke outside of shared sessions with Yunho.

<e-y/n> hello

The reply came almost instantly

<sk8rboi> hi

You were nervous, but pushed it away as far as you could. This was not a match you could lose.

<e-y/n> this is going to sound really odd, but is there any way i can contact yunho?

<sk8rboi> come over

<e-y/n> ... nani?????

<sk8rboi> this mutual simping is wild

<sk8rboi> come get ur man pls I want peace

...

<sk8rboi> hey u there? if u ghost me i will ddos ur ass

<e-y/n> yeah yeah sorry just... did you say mutual?

<sk8rboi> yh bruh istg how did u even come up w aenigmata

<e-y/n> bruh what you mean

<sk8rboi> nvm just heres the address and u can come over like nowish

<sk8rboi> [address sent]

<sk8rboi> and while u wait for long boi to call it a day on ibbobb u can spill dev secrets >:)

<e-y/n> thank you *tips fedora*

<sk8rboi> ew yunho has one helluva taste

What in the world did you agree to just now?

Where was your rationality?

Were you really about to haul a ball of anxiety that was yourself across the city, and into the dorms of 8 grown men and celebrities?

You were wild. But you were wildly in love, so upon masking the majority of your still lingering episode under a bit of refreshing makeup and your confidence-boosting fit, you were off.

And back again because you needed your car keys - you were not about to conquer that barrier yet, the metro could stay as a no-go zone for a while longer.

Call yourself fast and furious, because you swore you used nitro boost to zoom through the streets of Seoul, dodging traffic like you did this on the daily. Adrenaline was your only fuel, and you were very much out of breath once you arrived at the large complex where ATEEZ lived.

Remembering some broken version of breathing exercises you had been taught some time ago, you steadied yourself and gave yourself some time. You cruised around the neighbourhood a couple times until you found an inconspicuous parking spot, because even though probably no one would care, you couldn't help it.

Face obscured by a mask, you shuffled over to the door of the building checking a couple of times to make sure you weren't making a mistake. Before buzzing them, you messaged Yeosang once again, and he promptly let you in.

Once on the right floor, he was already already waiting for you, dressed in a hoodie, knee-length shorts and slides.

"Woah, you actually made it. Big respect. Come on in, Y/N."

It was very easy to be casual with him, as he was practically your long lost brother.

You beamed at him after sliding off your mask, and carefully taking off your shoes at the door to replace them with a pair of slippers he set down on the ground before you. While doing so, you heard him suddenly start counting down...

"And a 3, and a 2, and a-"

"YO YEOSANG WHO IS AT THE DOOR?" that voice sounded very familiar, and soon enough, the one and only Wooyoung appeared around the corner.

And froze. Jaw dropped. Then shrieked.

You were a deer caught in the headlights, again finding yourself punching the daylights out of your false sense of bravery. You wanted to turn right back around when-

"Y/N? IT IS Y/N! THE Y/N! Oh you have no idea how happy I am to meet you in person finally, come through. Statue man, why are you not letting her in?"

"Bro you intercepted like no tomorrow, this was a covert ops mission and you are like a nuke."

"Man, you literally brought THE Y/N over to OUR PLACE and are telling me to chill?"

"Yeah, tone it down. Like a thousand notches. For everybody's mental health."

You gave Yeosang an appreciative nod as he cut Wooyoung's excitement short. To be fair, you were excited too, but at the moment your instincts were telling you to escape at the first possible moment.

Wooyoung rapidly switched though, much to your joy, and in a much softer tone, greeted you again and told you to follow him.

Once in the living room, you were met with one more inquisitive pair of eyes. When he noticed that you were not sure how to address him, be it because you did not know him too well or were just shying away, he, gallant as ever stood up and introduced himself. That was how you met San.

Aside from Mingi and Yunho, apparently the rest of the members had some work to be done so were out of the house and promised to not be back until late. So you took the time to try power through small talk with Wooyoung, Yeosang and San.

With Yeosang definitely mediating because he could somehow read your vibes scarily easily.

Soon enough the Woosan duo decided to push some buttons and turned on the Yungi live, enjoying seeing you falter as you were talking. And you thought you were going to be safe from teasing entirely? Rookie mistake.

Although they knew the details from Yunho's side, they wanted to hear at least a bit from you, but you were a tough nut to crack. They did not know just how much game industry insider information you were used to carrying all the time.

Personal info was nothing. But you kind of, sort of... did want to gush about Yunho. But not now, not when everything was hanging by a thread.

Fast forward to an hour later, and as a way to thank the guys for taking care of you and standing your presence for so long, you ordered them food. Then and there they labelled you as a certified homie.

Just when you and the guys had arranged everything on the kitchen counter, you heard the door unlock, and lo and behold, in came Mingi, followed by an unreadable Yunho.

While driving back, San had discreetly texted Mingi, so he knew what was coming, and gave you a megawatt grin and a thumbs up.

If only you could replay the moment Yunho had raised his eyes and saw you at least once every hour of the day (who were you kidding, your brain was going to take care of that)

It was the kind of glee that you had only encountered in particularly sappy movies or shoujo manga. You almost wondered where the flower petals were.

What happened next swept you off your feet, literally. Not giving a damn that the other members will finish him off or maybe even expose him as a hopeless romantic on some future variety show, he strode over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your frame, lifting you up slightly so you had to balance on your tiptoes. Your face was quickly turning red, but you couldn't and wouldn't pull away.

This action was all you needed to know that your ruminations were self-sabotage, and that you overcoming your fear even if just for today was more than right.

You buried your face in his shirt, careful not to smudge anything but nevertheless relishing in his presence the fact that this was all in real life. He was here. You were here.

Both of you ignored the hollering of the gathered members, some of whom took the chance to sneak the food out on display.

Yunho asked you out then and there, whispering the words into your ear, making a shiver go down your spine. You nodded again and again, and gave him another tight hug.

How desperately he wanted to plant a kiss on your soft lips. The ones that had formed a light cheeky pout as you two finally pulled away when Yeosang shouted "get a room". He wanted to show you in every way that he was yours. And that you could rest assured nothing was going to change that.

After all, you were like ibb and obb. Worked best together.

Bonus:

Now for him, it was not easy keeping your relationship a secret. Not when he was smiling at his phone, and unabashedly calling you while literally backstage, just to show you how things were around there.

You were not ready to attend any of the big events yet, nor were you fond of the idea of hanging around the equally busy backstage, but you knew everything that was going on thanks to the stream of pictures, videos and calls you received. Down to documentary-style explanations where Yunho scouted for some funny close ups of his members.

Very early on you had discussed social boundaries, and you had explained to him the details of what battles you were yet to find, and fell in love with him all over again when he was the most respectful and understanding person on the planet.

You were slowly building up courage, and were already improving leaps and bounds - your business friend was overjoyed when you independently hosted your own livestream, and organised a q&a session for fans. Magazines and merch stores took a greater interest in your work, and you were happily liaising with them, of course with support of your team, and of your boyfriend, Yunho.

Both you and Yunho learned together what a balancing act life can be, but, with some adjustments and open communication, were making it happen. Step by step, closer and closer.

Staff were quick to ship you two, seeing how Yunho had somehow become even more attractive on stage, sending fans into a frenzy. Really it was so that he could later observe the effect he had on you.

At the same time, he quickly gained a soft spot in some gaming fans' hearts as he ventured into the area a little bit more, for the time being either alone or with another member.

If Yunho thought the e-girl jokes were going to die down, they only got stronger. And when some fans started forming theories about Yunho's patterns, wondering if there was either some collaboration on the horizon or something much deeper, started telling him to come clean to ATINY about his Twitch subscriptions.

Maybe someday, only when you told him you were okay with it, he would shout to the world that Yunho and Y/N were an item, but for now, he was more than in love with you and the two-player world you two built, and you were more than in love with him and his way to bring you to a beautiful reality.

[smallyellowbutterfly]

I've said it once and I'll say it again

STOP👏🏽 HARASSING 👏🏽 ACTORS 👏🏽AND👏🏽 MUSICIANS 👏🏽 IT'S👏🏽CREEPY👏🏽AND👏🏽NOT👏🏽COOL

[i-like-eyes]

Daroach for the ask 🐀

Anon I bring you cheese

First impression: When I saw the KSA Dream Friend trailers back when they came out I remember thinking "wow that's a Kirby character if I ever saw one". Man imagine if I actually played the Dream Friends when they released I could of found god sooner.

Impression now: Whoops new favorite. He's got a fantastic design and sassy dialogue making for one of the strongest characters. Nothing mind blowing, he's a fairly standard gentleman thief type, but still very well executed and confident.

Favorite moment: Stretching it here, but I really like how he plays in KSA. He has a wide variety of moves that need charging so every fight you have to think about what works best for the situation. I feel like he could of had more personality in KSA, especially in the animation department, but playing him feels like you're the crazy prepared leader of a team having to plan a heist on the spot.

Idea for a story: Oh god I have too many. One idea is a heist at Haltmann works where he runs into Susie and they get into a fight. He brings Doc along with him because Doc's more familiar with the tech-y stuff.

Unpopular opinion: How can there be unpopular opinions if a character isn't that popular to begin with

Favorite relationship: This is outside of the games but Meta Knight. I'm not a huge fan of the novels, but holy shit those two are chummy to a near comical degree. A problem I have with the novels is that they are really mean spirited, but they can't help but compliment each other whenever they're near. They'll also just stop and ask how they are doing and have each other's best interests in mind and wow that's really refreshing. Thinking outside the novels they have enough similarities for getting along but also some differences in personality to challenge each other with. I'd like to think Daroach would hesitate to trust people, what with being an infamous thief he probably has made a lot of enemies. He'd take an interest in MK because Cool and Mysterious dude but hesitate to reach out. MK's excuse is he's shit at communication so he just does Daroach a lot of favors which throws Daroach off. Daroach eventually realizes that MK is just being massive dork and they become fast friends then. More obvious is just Daroach is much open and flamboyant than MK is; Daroach would push him to have fun but wouldn't overstep any boundaries. I see hc's that they'd chat about their adventures over tea or go on heists together, but I'd like to see Daroach asking for help with hand-to-hand combat with some sparring.

Favorite headcanon: Less headcanon and more maybe canon/theory is this beef he and DDD have. DDD is (rightfully) pissed that Daroach has stolen from him and Daroach just thinks he's ugly lol

In the DDD Directory tweets he's said: And "Dark Daroach" is a form he took on when he got taken over by some strange black smoke at the end of the story. That HAD to be his punishment for daring to steal my treasure!

And Daroach spits hard facts in Mass Attack: I used to steal the hearts of young ladies by the seaside here. But that was long ago, before King Dedede came to spoil its shores.

Dedede Resort has a castle that King Dedede had built. It’s supposed to be beyond tacky. This is the most petty and pointless conflict in the series and I love it. Throwing out some more, I like stuff in the Dreamy Gear novel like how Vul hates his guts or how he's apparently a really good chef/baker and I just apply that to the normal canon.

[moonlightlullaby]

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!) 

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist. 

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is. 

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair. 

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me. 

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. 

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is. 

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words. 

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp. 

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath. 

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds. 

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task. 

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie. 

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul. 

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n” 

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully. 

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?” 

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?” 

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered. 

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise. 

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions. 

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-” 

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.  

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen. 

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

[liemonyellow]

i’m not calling you a liar - chapter 5

read on ao3

prologue | one | two | three | four | five | epilogue

Summary: Five times Janus apologized to the other sides and one time he didn’t.

Warnings: Touch-averse and touch-starved Janus, Death mention, Remus has intrusive thoughts (Please let me know if there is something I should add as warning)

[remus] ghost

Remus was practically vibrating as he did his best to sit patiently. Tonight was finally his turn to have Janus all to himself.

Okay, sure, the others actually had some serious beef with Janus that he had to apologize for, but Remus? He and Janus were always cool, and, unlike some sides he could name - and would! Patton, Logan, Roman, and Virgil, the traitor (affectionate… mostly) - he understood why Janus did what he did. Then again, Remus had always been a huge fan of fucking with the others, whatever the consequences.

And boy, were there consequences.

But enough about that, back to Janus. See, Janus had been acting kinda weird lately, but given that he’d had to be sincere for the last month, it made sense that he was showing up outside his room less and less. He was always a bit distant before, so Remus didn’t begrudge him his solitude. And when they’d finally met up a couple of hours ago for their date, Janus was back to his usual sarcastic self, so Remus didn’t worry about it.

What did worry him was how uncomfortable Janus seemed when Remus tackle-hugged him when he finally arrived. Remus’ respect and love for Janus would always trump his usual instinct to push and overstep boundaries, so he had let go sooner than he wanted and kept to what Janus considered a respectable distance.

Janus’ touch-aversion had never been quite so strong in the past, but Remus could sense that it was battling quite fiercely against his touch-starvation. The bad news was that it was winning. That never boded well for Janus’ mental state, no matter what his favorite danger noodle said to the contrary.

Besides, their date was a haunted house tour! Neither of them scared easily, nor were they the type to cling to each other in terror or surprise. And Janus had designed the place with Roman’s help - Which, of course, Remus knew. He knew a lot of things the others didn’t think he did. - so he already knew what was coming.

Apparently, Roman had been confused when Janus told him the point wasn’t to scare Remus, but to create the scariest monsters possible so that Remus could terrorize them. His silly, silly brother. At least now he knew that Remus took defending his title of “Scariest Motherfucker in the Mindscape” very seriously.

And that one ghost dragon-chimera which took Janus hostage earlier learned that lesson quite thoroughly. No one fucked with Remus’ Janus and lived. (Or unlived. States of being were hard when it came to necromancy.) Figuring out how to overcome the ghost bit was the challenge there, but Remus figured it out in the end.

Remus had to admit, Roman had done a decent job. Of course, he had Janus’ help to guide him in the right direction. Remus ignored the unhelpful voices telling him Janus would leave him for his brother. That wouldn’t happen. Janus wouldn’t do that.

They were nearing the exit door when Janus announced a special surprise for him. Remus could hardly wait, and burst through the door before Janus could stop him. Janus knew him well enough to expect that, right?

Within the room, Remus was faced with every monster he’d bested earlier that day, roaming among piles of scattered objects and detritus. Busted up tech, rusted cars, ridiculously ornate china and porcelain, pretentiously framed portraits of pretentious old white men. Y’know, the kind of shit that was fun to destroy.

“Janny, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

Janus came up to stand next to him, except now he was wearing his protective gear. Well, “protective” for Janus, which generally meant he looked like he’d walked out of a Victorian-gothic video game where the main goal was to kill monsters as stylishly as possible: black leather duster, tinted glasses, fancy hat, elegant gloves, etc. It wasn’t personally his style, but Remus loved how it looked on Janus.

“No, Remus, you’re not seeing weeks of hard work and decision-making that will only end up in a million itty-bitty pieces on the ground, covered with blood and viscera and whatever else you feel like conjuring up, all conveniently placed in one room just for your enjoyment of destroying them.”

Remus could have hugged Janus right then. But he didn’t, because Janus wasn’t feeling too great about touch and Remus cared about Janus more than anything. “You’re the fucking best.”

“I try.”

The haunted house had been fun. But this? This was exhilarating. This was visceral. This was cathartic. Remus had already taken down two of the monsters, and his next victim, the ghost dragon-chimera, was already cowering before him, remembering the resounding ass-whooping he’d given it earlier. If any of the rest of them thought Janus would be an easy target, Remus was about to nip that fucker in the butt.

But, more than anything, Janus also seemed to be enjoying himself. He was currently setting fire to a pile of money sitting over a painting of some unnamed old dude that he’d torn to splinters with an axe and doused in gasoline.

It was good to see him smiling again.

When Remus had had his fill of cowing the monsters and wrecking the room, he turned back to Janus. “You’re the fucking bestest,” he said once more.

“Thank you, Remus. I was hoping you would like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” he shrieked. “Just like I love you, boop noodle.” He booped the tip Janus’ nose without actually touching him.

Janus’ face broke out into the biggest smile. Remus liked when he got Janus to do that.

“This wasn’t just an apology, you know,” he said. “It’s a celebration. For your acceptance. Just the two of us, because I know how the others ‘celebrate’ is a bit boring for your tastes.”

Something about that way he said that tickled Remus’ bullshit meter. Enough of the truth to cover it up, but there was some kind of lie underneath it all.

“What do you even need to apologize to me for, anyway? I was already on your side from the beginning.”

The smile on Janus’ face disappeared. “For everything I’ve put you through. I know it’s your job, but dealing with Thomas’ intrusive thoughts isn’t easy, and the things I did in order to be heard worsened them for an extended time. It’s not something I expect you to care much about, but I felt it was important to say, nonetheless.”

Truth. Mostly. Maybe? It was getting hard to tell. There was still something else. Something underneath all of the apologies Janus had been making thus far. Something Remus only put a name to in that very moment.

“Janus, why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

Janus didn’t answer immediately. Remus ignored the voices telling him Janus hated him. Janus didn’t hate him. He didn’t.

“I’m… not?”

It sounded like a lie. It sounded like the truth. Which was it? Remus could no longer tell. The voices were getting louder.

“You’re not?”

“Remus, why do you think it feels like I’m saying goodbye?”

“Because you’re doing that thing you do when you think I don’t notice!”

Janus’ look of concern intensified. It felt real. It felt fake. Why couldn’t Remus tell anymore?

“Remus, how are your intrusive thoughts?”

Remus couldn’t answer. All he could think of was Janus, gone. Janus, dead. Janus, drained and lifeless in his arms and staring at him with empty, glassy eyes.

“Remus.”

Janus was standing in front of him now. When did he get so close? When did he get so blurry?

“Remus, are you alright?” Janus asked, his voice barely a whisper and yet somehow the loudest thing in Remus’ head.

There was warm hand on his elbow. Remus lunged, clutching Janus close with all his might, forever. Then, too late, he remembered Janus’ condition, his lack of consent, and tried to pull away. He was tugged forcefully back, and five more limbs wrapped around him, keeping him in place. Remus buried his face into the warmth.

They stayed like that for a while. Not long enough.

“Don’t- don’t die, Janus,” Remus mumbled into the snotty mess he’d made of Janus’ jacket. “You- you can’t. I won’t let you.”

Janus squeezed him tight with all six of his arms. He was warm, almost hot. “I won’t, Remus. I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie.

[samwrights]

Clueless

Raise your hand if you’re personally victimized by this ask 🙋🏻‍♀️ ngl this prompt gave me trouble probably because its my life story?? I have no idea when people are flirting with me?! Like my (now) husband just went up and kissed me and I was like wait you like me? 💀 also, kiss your friends. Just now rn. Cause ya know. COVID.

Iwaizumi;

To me, Iwaizumi doesn’t flirt like a normal person.

He strikes me as the person that “flirts” with blunt statements and very obvious, possessive touching and then wonders why you don’t recognize that he’s flirting.

So of course, it doesn’t make sense to you that he’s flirting.

But for you, it was a total norm to give him and the other third years good luck kisses before a game.

Apparently, the way his hands grip your waist when you do it isn’t obvious enough.

You may or may not have yelled “that’s my baby” once or twice when one of them goes up to serve. On the regular.

Outside of volleyball, Iwa totally let’s you sit in his lap during free period and lunch because he wants that contact

And yet, you’re too busy complimenting the other third years to even notice Iwa is getting pissed.

“Oiks, my beautiful sunshine” was his least favorite.

“Makki, are you gonna challenge Iwa to another arm wrestling match? You know I love seeing you flex” was another one he really hated.

It’s actually the reason Makki’s never won. Iwa goes extra hard to make sure you notice his arms which honestly how tf can you not.

“Dude, next time we’re doing this when [name]’s not here.” Hanamaki groans as he’s awarded with his 167th loss.

“Hey, why’s it matter if I’m here? I wanna watch!”

“Cause he wants to impress you, [name]~ Iwa’s so in love with you—“ that earned Oikawa a head butt to the face 💀

But wait what? Since when?

“Y’know, I’m not even sure why I like you at this point.” The now embarrassed Iwaizumi points out, covering the flush of his cheeks in his hands as he buries his face.

Akaashi;

Oh this poor, sweet boy.

He thought he was so obvious with the way he’d walk you to and from classes

Akaashi always gave you a tight hug that he felt lingered just a tad too long when the two of you parted ways.

Not that you ever minded—dude is a great hugger.

But so are you, and everyone loves your hugs.

Especially Bokuto.

Mostly because your “hugs” are actually you jumping up and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

Bokuto calls you his little koala, and it pisses Akaashi off.

So the setter tries to become a little more bold—longer hugs, hand holding, walking you home.

He’ll throw in a decent number of compliments, like how pretty you look today because he notices when you’ve done your hair differently or if you decided to part it to the other side.

Akaashi gets bold bold, cause he’s real fckn tired of Bokuto snagging all your attention bc you’re his goddamn koala.

He’s currently walking you home, hand in hand while you talk about your school day, and before parting, Akaashi gives you brief little peck on the cheek.

But when he doesn’t get a reaction out of you, he’s starts panicking.

“Uh, I’m sorry, did I overstep my boundaries?”

“No, no! I just didn’t think you liked me like that!”

Please say sike rn

Kuroo;

Oh boy.

Literally everyone already thought you were dating with how blunt Kuroo was.

He’s not one to shy away from PDA in the slightest, so you can imagine him going for all the kisses and tickles.

And, you being you, never stop to think that he’s being serious. You platonically kiss him and Kenma all the time!

Though Kenma isn’t a big fan of it.

Ya know who is? Yaku, Yamamoto, and Lev.

So fuck it, platonic, playful kisses for everyone.

And while we’re at it, sit in their laps too cause that’s just how you roll.

Oddly enough, Kuroo doesn’t get jealous because they all know that you are his.

That and this was so typically you that if you stopped doing any of the acts above, something was wrong and the world was ending.

Though, none of them would ever attempt to flirt back because Kuroo would probably kill him.

He may not be jealous, but he is very territorial.

So you come to watch them at nationals because ofc, you love these boys with your whole ass heart.

Before you head off to the spectators section with Lev’s sister and the cheer team, Kuroo stops you and pulls you in for a quick kiss before shrugging off his warmup jacket.

“Here baby, it’s cold in here. You can wear my jacket.”

“Kuroo, it’s not even chilly, why—“

“Maybe I just want my girlfriend to wear my jacket, duh. “

“Wait what”

Haikyuu!! Tag List

@hihiq​

[vivinightingale]

Hanahaki disease and Star tears head canons Part 2 of 3

Hanahaki Disease: An illness born from one sided love, where the victim's throat will fill up with flowers. They will then begin to throw up, or cough up the petals. In serious cases the flowers themselves. There are only two ways to get rid of the said disease. If the person the victim loves loves them back (strong friendship isn't adequate enough) or through surgery. If neither work the victim will suffocate on the flowers resulting in death.

Star Tears: The Sparkly star-like tears, accompanied with twlinking sounds. It's a disease that is caused by unrequited love. The only cure for these glimmering tears is for the love to be returned;  however, if they are not then the light from the shining stars will blind the victim. 

Flowers mentioned: 

Tulip: Love and, Confidence 

Sunflower: Adoration, Loyalty 

Hydrangea: Emotion, Understanding 

Rose: love

Lychnis

~Tristan Taylor Star Tears:

If Tristain had the disease:

When Tristan first met Serenity the boy thought he was a goner. Well that was until he met her best friend (y/n). 

He loved the way you shined brighter than the sun, when your eyes sparkled with excitement of your favorite subject. (And when you tell off Duke when you felt he was overstepping his boundaries).

The major problem was your eyes were already on someone. Anyone with eyes (Expect the poor boy in question) could see how infatuated you were with him. You were always around him, spoke about him often, and you were always there when Yami Bakura got out of hand.

It hurt Tristain to the point when he got home he cried at how hopeless he was, but that was when his troubles truly occurred. When he cried the sparkly bright tears fell down his face. He was shocked to say the least he didn't understand why such bright tears fell down his face. So he didn't waste time going to the doctors.

When he got there the nurse took notice and ushered him to the back slightly shaken up by his state. When she seated him in a room she rushed to the doctor, and explained the circumstances.

When the doctor came in and he saw the young man trying to wipe away the tears in vain he knew exactly what was going on.

“It's a rare but painful disease Mr. Taylor.” The doctor explained to him the disease and the effects it would have on his health. 

Tristan didn't want to ruin your friendship but he also didn't want to go blind, so he decided then to take a risk. He texted you and asked you to meet him at the park closest to his house.

When you got there the sun was nearly set, and the stars glowinging from Tristan's face were glowing brighter than ever. When you asked him what happened he didn't bother to look at you as he explained the disease to you.

“I know this is sudden (y/n) but i like you….as in more than a friend.” you gasped at the sudden confession, but that surprise suddenly turned to sorrow “Im sorry tristan….” The tears fell harder from his eyes but he shook his head and left without another word.

When the brunette lost his eyesight everyone worried for his well being but he played it off as if it didn't bother him, but in reality it pained him that he wasn't able to see your pretty face any longer.

If you had the disease:

You had been serenity’s best friend since you met her in elementary, you did everything with her so when she got her eye surgery you were there with her. That was the day you met her infamous big brother Joey, and his friends. More specifically Tristan.

You weren't sure what it was but something about him drew you to him, But you saw the way he looked serenity, and when Duke came into the picture you were certain that Tristan was in love with her.

So you decided to distance yourself from the man in hopes to drive these feelings away. However fate had something in store for you.

 As you were talking with the group of friends at Mr. Muto’s gameshop you noticed how Tristan was obviously flirting with the girl as she giggled away at her pick up lines. It hurt your heart to see such a display that you could feel the tears prick at your eyes. You excused yourself from the group and ran to the bathroom. As you cried you noticed the blinding stars in your tears.

You stayed in the bathroom for what feels like forever till Mai knocked on the door. “(y/n)? Dear, are you okay?” you didn't have time to respond till she came in and saw the mess you were on the ground.

She was at your side instantly wiping away the tears and stars. “Star tears huh?” you look at her questioningly. She sighs and tells you everything she knows of the said disease. “It's not a pretty disease as it seems.”

Hearing her made you cry harder as she held you tightly. She escorted you home without the others seeing you, and told you to keep in mind her words.

In the end you were against telling tristan your feelings so instead you stayed by ai side as you slowly lose your sight. When you fully lost it Mai was there for you every step of the way, and made sure you avoided Tristan and everyone’s questions. 

~Tea Gardner/Anzu Mazaki Hanahaki Disease:

    If she had the disease:

You were introduced to the group by Duke Devlin (well it was more you were there when he faced Yugi and you were silently on the sidelines watching) Maybe it was the quiet cool stance, or the way your sharp eyes studied the duel between the two. Whatever it was she was extremely interested in you. So when you walked over to the group and introduced yourself to them she was smitten.

You began to hang with the group more and everything you did just made her heart flutter, the dazzling smile, the way you were always there for them, and so much more. Her heart just couldn't take, and neither could her lungs.

Slowly the flowers began to take over her lungs Roses, Tulips, Sunflowers, and Lychins fell from her lips as she coughed.

Due to this her work wouldn't allow her to go back until she got it fixed, so she had no choice but to go to the doctors. Unable to go on her own Mai took her to the doctors and sat with her until the end of the exam.

“Well It seems you have a very rare and deadly disease called hanahaki.”  Mai probed the doctor for answers as Tea stared into nothing. Deadly one sided love? Surgery?  This was all so much for her to handle.

At the end of the appointment Mai took her home “Look tea…. I know it isn't easy but if there's a chance that you don't have to go through surgery you should take it.” Tea nodded still lost in thought as she walked to her house.

It took her some time to gain her thoughts, but when she did she took Mai’s words to heart. So she texts you text to meet her by the pond garden at the park.

When you met her at the park and saw her coughing up the flowers you rushed to her side and comforted her the best you could.

“I'm sorry....” she coughed as you shook your head and patted her back. “But there is something I have to tell you (y/n).... I like you a lot.” The silence was too long for her to handle. She tried to stand up to leave out of embarrassment. Ut before she could leave you pull her in for a hug.

“I like you too.”

If you got disease: 

You were there when Duke challenged Yugi to dungeon dice monsters, you knew it was cruel  to challenge him to a game he has never played, but you were there anyways to watch. A girl around your age was on Yugi’s side cheering him on. She reminded you of one of your fairy cards. She is beautiful, yet dangerously determined. 

After the match between the two you introduced yourself to the gang (While apologizing on duke’s behalf). When she started talking to you you knew you were a goner. She was an angel in disguise, and you wanted her for your own.

It took you days, maybe even weeks to come up with a plan, and right when you were about to ask her you began coughing. The coughing was so excessive that the teacher had to send you to the nurse. On your way there was when the flowers started to tumble down which made you rush a little quicker to the nurse.

When you got there the teacher saw your condition and ushered you to lay down. She put a bucket to the side of your bed as she examined the rest of you.

“You have what the professionals call hanahaki.” she told you the disease and all the effects of it. “I cant send you back to class now so wait till the end of the day so you can head home immediately.” you nodded and rested the best you could.

As you were getting ready to leave at the end of the day Tea came through the door “I came to check on you since you haven't been in class. Is everything okay?”  

Knowing you had no other choice you told her how you felt and that if she didn't feel the same you understood.

Hearing you sudden confession tea let out a soft giggle as she hugged you “I feel the same way (y/n)

~Duke Devlin/Ryuji Otogi Star tears Disease

If he had the disease:    

Duke liked to think of himself as a smooth talker, his silver tongue got many people in his fan club. However there was one thing his smooth talking couldn't get him, you.

From the moment he met you he tried everything in his book to get your attention. Compliments, sweet talking, v.i.p access to his gameshop, EVERYTHING. Yet still your eyes always linger on Kiba.

He didn't understand what you saw in a jerk like him,but you saw something and he simply couldn't compare, and it hurt him deeply. It hurt him so much that anytime he saw you and Seto interacting he could stop the tear that would spring to his eyes.

The tears got worse over time to the point where the stars started to appear and it was hard for him to keep his eyes open. 

As much as he tried to wipe them away they just came one after the other. It was one of his employees who had told him about the disease, and what caused it.

There wasnt anything he could do, you didnt want him you wanted that stupid Seto! And there wasn't any cure for the tears. He didn't want to go blind, but what other choice did he have?

Instead of staying away from the others he spent the rest of his days seeing with you. If he was going blind he wanted the last thing to be beautiful. 

When Dukes about his last moments before he became blind he talks about the angel who stole his heart.

If you had the disease:

Curse this man with his beautiful looks, and silver tongue! He had utterly infatuated since the moment you laid eyes on him. 

The more you hung out with him the more of him you wanted to see. So that's exactly what you did or at least tried to do.

You would purposely visit his shop just to be around him. He even welcomed you with open arms talking with you every time you walked through the door.

This of course did not help your yearning heart or the star that fell down your face.

  You knew Duke had a fanbase so he didn't have time with relationships, so you were content with watching from the sidelines. However you couldn't do so if you went blind.

You knew of this disease from the start, you witnessed your aunt going through the same thing when you were young so this alone terrified you, but you didn't want to be a burden to the said boy.

So you continued to stay by his side even when you became blind listening as he rose to success, and eventually left you behind.

~Seto Kaiba hanahaki disease:

If he had the disease:

Seto never had time for relationships. With his little brother, running a company, trying to beat Yugi, and not really caring he had no time at all. Or so he originally thought.

You have known the brothers since they were first adopted, your father being an investor in Kaiba corp gained you access to play with the said boys. Most of your days were spent with Mokuba, but there were the rare times you got to play with Seto and those were the days you both cherished deeply.

However, somewhere along the way Seto felt more than friendship towards you, and it was more the family because the way he felt about mokuba was different then what he thought of you.

He never realized what the feeling was until flowers began to appear. It was a small cough at first, but eventually they began to escalate. Worried Mokuba called in the best doctors Kaiba Corp had.

He learned that the feeling he had for you was love, and he also felt like you didn't share the same feelings for him. 

So instead of beating around the bush he went straight to you. He surprised you when he just walked into your house a determined glare resting on his features. “(y/n)..i want to take you out somewhere. No mokuba, just me and you.” It didn't take you long to realize what he wanted so you smiled at him and agreed to the said date.

Seto Kaiba maybe a man with little time, but he is willing to make time for you.

~If you got the disease:

You have grown up around the Kaiba brothers, and cherished every moment with them, but you had particular fondness for the eldest.

Though the man can be seen as cold and cruel around you and Mokuba he showed a softer side that not many got to witness. This kindness is what you fall for him.

You knew the young CEO didn't have time for petty things like relationships so instead you were content with seeing all his dreams come to life from the sidelines. 

Fate however, had different plans for you. The flowers began to grow in your lungs. Roses, Tulips, and Hydrangeas. The pain that jolted through your body with each cough was almost enough to distract you from heartache...almost.

Feeling yourself grow weaker with everyday you finally went to the doctors hoping there was a way for it to end. 

Because of your stubborn ways your body was too weak to do surgery on to remove the flowers. your only hope for survival was to tell Seto how you felt, and he returned your feelings.

You were admitted to the hospital due to the doctors request, and once Seto heard of the news he rushed to the hospital you were staying at 

“What is the meaning of this (y/n)?!” 

When walked in you gave him a weak smile as you explained the disease, without thinking about it you even told him the cause of it. When it came out of your mouth you knew you messed up.

You tried to back track, but Seto had other plans as he pulled you closer to him, one his hand on you head the other on the small of your back successfully trapping you.

“Then don't worry about those flowers anymore, with me at your side nothing will harm you again.”

~Requests are open~

[selfships-in-spanish]

That spy post gave me WAY too many ideas: I can picture either a scenario in which Connor is a government agent who's chasing superspy/master thief Ona around the world a lá Carmen Sandiego, where she's constantly evading his grasp, or that Connor and Ona are rival spies for different governments who keep meeting and flirting with each other on-mission before being separated yet again - Simon-Data Anon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH 

SIMON-DATA NON I MISSED YOU MY DARLING ❤❤❤ So glad to have you back in my inbox!!! Fgjdldfgkd I love your ideas so much omg. 

The first scenario is just so *chef kiss*

Just imagine Connor chasing after her, this woman who is one of the most famous thieves alive, who always escapes his grasp and even toys with him, but in a way he sees what she is doing, stealing from Cyberlife (and Connor was not stupid himself, he knew Cyberlife had powerful items and did shady things) but not for own gain or profit, but to return items to their rightful owners. She’s some kind of modern Robin Hood.

They found themselves trapped in one of Cyberlife facilities one time, having to work together in order to make it out alive and unscratched. Connor had various cases going on at the same time, and the Cyberlife one had a new lead he got to follow. Needless to say it got dangerous, but working with her came surprisingly easy, even enjoyed it and had fun despite of almost dying. He felt alive.

“It was fun playing with you today, agent Stern. We should stop meeting each other like this, don’t you agree?”

Connor sometimes finds himself daydreaming about fluffy white hair and a playful smile disappearing into the night as beautiful olive-green eyes wink at him.

BUT DUDE THE IDEA OF BOTH BEING SPIES??? YES????? 

All the rivalry between them, who’s the better spy, the better agent... (please something along The Man From Uncle with Napoleon and Illya, just roasting the other but not being able to leave the other to their fortune when they get in a situation).

Please we need a scene of Connor and Ona having to work together towards a same goal, infiltrating a high end party or something and Ona has to seduce a target in order to get intel, all while Connor slips into private aisles of the mansion where the party is held to gather evidence and intel of his own... but he didn’t count on Ona looking absolutely amazing in that beautiful and jaw-dropping dress. He needs a moment. Several, in fact, as well as a double bourbon shot because his throat is suddenly too dry and parched at the sight of her entering the room, her honey skin and freckles showing in what the slit of the dress allows Connor to see and–

“You may want to close your mouth before you ruin your beautiful suit with drool, cariño.”

Connor instantly closed his mouth, clearing his throat as if he hadn’t been absolutely bewitched by the sight. He ventured a quick look down as Ona sat next to him on the barstool, her movements oozing elegance and finesse as if she had been born with a silver spoon. That peek of her leg made Connor seriously consider to loosen his tie and pop open the first button of his shirt.

Ona ordered a Gin and Tonic, delighted to see they put her favourite pink tonic. Connor didn’t want to admit he shoot daggers to the barman winking at her as he delivered her drink. Connor decided he should keep his eyes up and not let himself venture down at all costs. He looked down again. Damn it. Her giggle made him look directly into her eyes, finding them full of mirth and mischief.

“It never gets old.” Ona took a sip of her drink, humming delighted at it. “So, any visual on the target?” She looked around discreetly while leaning in a little bit as she took another sip of her drink, Connor mimicking her.

“Behind us, the table on the left. It seems you may have some competition, honey.” Their target was occupied by already two beautiful women fanning over her. Ona arched her brow, licking her lips in anticipation. She enjoyed a challenge. Connor followed the movements of her tongue.

“That won’t be a problem. In fact, you’re gonna be part of the plan, so play along, darling.”

“Play along–?”

Ona grabbed Connor’s hand, putting it on her thigh. Connor’s hand instinctively twitched, the realisation of what her plan was dawning on him.

“Oh.”

Connor had to admit she was an impressive actress. Their target looked over the commotion, over Ona’s loud gasp and slap across his face. The sting made him think it was payback for that time in Rome when–

Oh, she was good. She stormed off with a “you men are disgusting”, grabbing her drink and purse and walking away from him to another seat, making sure the target was aware of the show and followed Ona with her eyes. Connor rubbed his cheek, the sting clearing his head. The barman from before came over him, handing another bourbon.

“She looks feisty huh. Better luck next time, man.”

Connor frowned, not liking the thought of this man being one of those who overstepped boundaries, but thanked him for the drink, agreeing as he had to maintain his role of “male with wounded pride”. He turned around just in time to see the target walking over where Ona was another cocktail in hand, crossing her long legs clad in an expensive looking suit and perfectly polished shoes.

Ona’s comm came alive in Connor’s ear.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice what happened before. Here, on the house.” 

“Oh! How thoughtful of you. But yes, I am thank you. Men, right?” Ona played perfectly her role. She made sure their target had her attention solely on Ona, letting the mob boss get cosy with her.

“Oh darling, I know. Men are the worst.” The mob boss put an arm behind the couch they were in, getting closer to Ona. She played coy, letting herself be seduced, not knowing in the slightest she was the one being seduced.

Connor stood up when a certain piece of information was brought up, smirking as Ona pulled it out of the woman’s lips without effort. He knew where he had to go, and new Ona would entertain the target long enough for him to slip through security, find their prize and get out without anyone noticing anything.

He froze mid step when he heard the mob boss suggest her and Ona going somewhere more privately, specifically her rooms Where Connor was. He was going to murder her after they got out of that place.

(Needless to say the image of Ona’s lipstick smeared would be in his dreams for quite a little bit of time)

[winterisakiller]

Get Better - Chapter Eleven

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 11/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do. This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list: @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @blacksuitofdoom @nonsensicalobsessions @messy-insomniac-bookgirl  @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna  @just-the-hiddles @hiddlescastle @alexakeyloveloki  @echantedbytwh 

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 Cath blinked slowly, her attention flicking from Emma to Tom and then back again. Emma smiled expectantly back at her, clearly waiting for her to crumble under the pressure. Tom’s expression was decidedly less joyful. The glare he leveled at his sister would have frozen the blood of weaker men (or women, in this case). She turned, letting her gaze fall on Zawe and Lorna. They appeared far too amused by the events taken place before them. The smiles they shared, both with each other and then, surprisingly, with Emma, left Cath more than a little apprehensive.

 Having Zawe and Lorna pestering her about whatever it was, or was not, happening between her and Tom was difficult enough. Not that there was anything save a cautious friendship at best. And even that felt as though it was on shaky ground more often than not. The idea of Emma somehow factoring into all that mess put Cath’s teeth on edge.

 There was only one way this could end. Badly.

 “Emma,” She started, finally finding her voice. She quite liked the woman, despite their short acquaintance (and the growing sense of unease regarding possible meddling), and certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. But the obvious unease and annoyance radiating from Tom at the mention of her crashing what was clearly meant to be an intimate family gathering, made her hesitate. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your brother…”

 “Nonsense.” Emma quipped, waving her hand as if she could simply brush away Cath’s concern. “It’s just drinks and catching up. Besides, with how you’ve been all Allie’s gone on about since this afternoon, I feel like it’s my duty to get to know you better.” Her eyes flicked to Zawe and Lorna and she smiled warmly at them. “And I know you’ve all got stories that are too good to pass up.”

 “Emma, they probably have plans,” Tom stepped in, looking at this sister with a hand held out before him. He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair.

 “Actually, I’m good,” Lorna chimed in.

 Zawe smiled, nodding. “Me as well.”

 Both women turned their attention towards Cath and she felt her unease grow steadily under their knowing looks. At this point she trusted the two them about as far as she could throw them. As much as she liked Zawe and Lorna, their prodding and less than subtle hinting were trying to say the least. Frankly, she expected better from Zawe given her profession.

 Going along with this hair-brained idea would undoubtingly end in more trouble than it was worth. Especially given Tom’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. And even if that wasn’t the case, Cath knew without a shadow of a doubt that Tom plus alcohol plus unease plus those three (something told her Emma, Zawe, Lorna together would be nothing but unfathomable trouble) equaled a very, very bad idea.

 The last thing she wanted was for the fragile…friendship (thinking it as anything other than that was stupid and dangerous) growing between them to shatter. She liked Tom, in more ways than she wanted to look into, and had very much enjoyed working with him on this project. She enjoyed getting to know the man behind the mask of professionalism.

 He was a charming, warm, intelligent man and he made her smile. Talking with him, sharing stories and ideas about nearly any and everything, had become something infinitely precious to her. Messing that up by overstepping the invisible boundaries they’d erected, by putting herself into a situation this man clearly was not interested in being in at this point in time, it wasn’t what she wanted in the slightest.    

 “Emma,” she started again, infusing her voice with as much reason as she could manage. She hoped it would be enough to sway Emma. “Tom obviously wants to spend time with just you and your husband. I can’t in all good consciousness intrude on that.” She steadfast avoided looking at Tom but could feel his eyes on her. This was rapidly going from bad to worse and Cath wanted nothing more in that moment then to be at home, curled up with a glass of wine, far away from meddling friends and coworkers.

 “Cath, that’s not what I meant,” Tom started, taking a step towards her, his brow knitted. “You know I enjoy spending time with…”

 “See,” Emma chimed in, cutting Tom off mid-sentence. “He’s fine with it. Just say you’ll come, please. I would honestly like to get to know you, Zawe, and Lorna better.”

 It was obvious to Cath, and clearly the rest of their small group (if their expressions were anything to go by), that this was a battle that could not be won. Not without more bloodshed than she’d ever be comfortable with. Taking a deep breath, Cath turned to face Emma once again. “Just one drink. One.”

 Emma’s face broke into a triumphant grin. “I can live with that.” Cath smiled quietly back, sincerely hoping she wouldn’t regret this. She couldn’t, however, shake the sinking feeling she definitely would.

 “Fantastic,” Zawe answered with a grin, clapping her hands together. She turned towards Tom. “Can I get the address so I can book a cab?”

 Appearing flummoxed by the rapid turn of events, Tom blinked uncomprehendingly at Zawe for several moments before rattling off the pub he’d chosen. One far enough away from the theatre to hopefully avoid running into any curious fans, Cath noted with a wry sense of amusement. It made sense, this was technically his ‘off’ time and, from everything she had observed, it was something Tom guarded fiercely. And that made their intrusion, and Tom’s reluctant agreement to it, all the more puzzling to her.

 Cath shook the thought away, not wanting to head too far down that road at this particular moment in time. She was vaguely aware of Zawe thanking him before pulling out her mobile and ducking from the room. And then of Emma ducking out quickly after.

 “That can’t be good,” she murmured to herself. Tom’s amused chuckle startled her and Cath quickly shot her eyes up towards him. Apparently she’d been louder than she thought.

 He just smiled wryly and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve learned sometimes it’s best just not to ask.”  

 She quirked an eyebrow. “And how well has that worked for you?”

 Tom grinned sheepishly, shrugging. “It’s a varied process, studies are inconclusive.”

 “Alright,” Zawe announced. Cath’s eyes shot up towards the door, watching as Zawe walked back into the room, Emma following closely behind. “Taxi should be here in ten.”

 “Fantastic, I’ll grab our bags and coats shall I?” Lorna called, already half out the door. Her steps echoed up the metal staircase and Cath shook her head. Someone’s over-eager.

 She turned her attention back to the room at large, catching Tom shoot his sister a level look. Emma simply smiled innocently in return before heading towards the tall sandy haired man Cath took as her husband. He had been hanging back from the main group, watching the groups’ interaction with what appeared to be wry amusement. He was clearly used to Emma and her meddling. Emma kissed him briefly before grabbing her handbag from him and walking back towards Zawe.

 “So I will be riding with the girls,” Emma called out to her brother, “so you and Jack can head off whenever you’d like and we’ll meet you there.”

 Tom stared at her unease painting across his features. It was abundantly clear Tom was not thrilled by this announcement, though whether it was not wanting to be alone with his brother-in-law (doubtful) or not wanting his sister alone with them (most likely but leading to far more questions than Cath wanted to entertain). “Em, seriously, we’re all going to the same place. Why don’t you just ride with Jack and me?”

 “Don’t Em me, Tom. We are all going to the same place. So what difference does that make to anything? Besides, if our lovely Cath has to duck out early, then I want the chance to talk with her for a bit. The ride over gives us a chance to do so, all of us girls mind, without you jumping in. Makes it easier for me to get all those embarrassing stories out.” She grinned cheekily at Tom.

 Tom opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Jack came up behind him and placed a hand on his arm. Cath watched the interplay between them with a curious fascination. It was obvious both men adored Emma and both were very aware of who she was and all which that entailed. “Not worth it, mate,” Jack sighed, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know.”

 “Oi,” Emma laughed. “Mind who you’re speaking about. I am right here.”

 “Not so fun now is it?” Tom smirked. Emma playfully narrowed her eyes at her elder brother.

 “Alright, enough with the sass brigade,” Cath called out, holding up her hands. If they were going to do this (and she was not one known for backing out of challenge no matter how she might have wanted to…And challenge this would most certainly be), the sooner the better. Lest she lose her nerve. “Now are we leaving or not?”

 Beside her, Zawe and Lorna (who must have darted back into the room while she wasn’t looking) snorted. She shot them a quick ‘behave’ glare before turning her attention back to the Hiddleston clan who all nodded silently, varying degrees of amusement and embarrassment on their faces.

 Cath laughed and shook her head, grabbing her coat and bag from her friend’s arms. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

                                                            —

 They piled into the back of the black cab, Cath sliding beside the far window, letting her eyes wander over the street. Most of the crowd had dissipated, though there were a good handful still waiting by stage door. Probably in hopes of a glance of Tom as he left. The tell-tale yells a few moments later told her he must have appeared from the stage door.

 Emma settled beside her, chuckling. “I will never get used to that.”

 Cath raised an eyebrow, though she was fairly sure she knew Emma’s meaning.

 “The screaming. It’s just so…weird. He is my giant, dork of a brother. The whole ‘famous actor’ thing is just so…Not him.”

 “He seriously is one of the most down to earth ‘celebrities’, and I use that word loosely because he just doesn’t fit that mold, that I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Cath answered. And he truly was. For as much pressure as she was sure he placed himself under (he was that type, she could see it clearly. Someone who expected a great deal of themselves no matter what anyone else had to say in the matter), she had never heard him utter a word in anger to anyone on the crew or cast. And while she knew he got frustrated (he was human after all), he did his best to keep his annoyance in check. That didn’t mean he hadn’t had a sharp word with those who tested him, but it never seemed to be out of a place of anger or to harm.  

 By this time Zawe and Lorna had settled across from them. “He really is a gem,” Lorna piped up. “You all are,” she added, nodding at Zawe.

 “Aw, bless,” Zawe chuckled, “flattery will get you everywhere.”

 “That answers so many questions,” Lorna joked. The back of the cab exploded in laughter.

 “I’m an actress darling, I live for flattery.” Zawe struggled to keep a straight face as she continued. “Mack, my partner, always jokes that one day he’ll have to widen the doorway just to fit my head in.” They all laughed. “Man is lucky I love him.”

 “Here, here,” Emma echoed. “Lord knows Jack can be the same way. Sometimes I swear men talk without bothering to engage their brains. And god knows, we still love them anyway.”

 “My Laurie’s the same.” Lorna added, laughing. “But he can be so damned charming when he wants to.”

 Emma turned her attention towards Cath. “So, I’m sure you have the same issue with your partner…” It was a leading question and if she hadn’t recognized it as such, the curiosity in Emma’s eyes would have put to rest any doubt. The only thing was Cath wasn’t completely sure where she was going with this. Part of her wondered if this might be on behalf of Tom…But that was ridiculous. If Tom had been interested at all, he would have asked himself, not sent his baby sister on a ferreting mission. And he hadn’t.

 They talked about music, movies, theatre, productions they’d been on (the good, the bad, and the frankly bizarre), family, friends…Just about everything. But never once had the topic of relationships, past or present, come up. It was understandable. Though she did not follow celebrity gossip as a general rule of thumb, it was impossible to avoid what had happened that summer almost two years prior. From what she had seen, the press had been brutal and she couldn’t blame him for playing those cards close to his chest.

 “Gavin certainly has his moments,” Lorna chimed in, smiling knowingly at Cath.

 Lorna never had much liked her most recent ex, and if Cath was being completely honest she couldn’t blame her. Gavin wasn’t a bad person, per se, he was just…a fair bit opinionated. He was a bright man, worked hard as a barrister, and though he appreciated the arts (they’d met at a charity function for one of the theatres she’d worked at three years back) he had the unfortunate habit of being a bit of a…snob. And it had rankled her friends, most of her family (though her mother had always had a soft spot for him) as well. But Cath had cared for him and had done her best to accept his faults. Though after nearly a year together, those faults far outweighed the good she tried to find in him. So she had ended it…Or well, they both had. They’d parted on remarkably decent terms.  

 “He did,” Cath agreed. “We broke it off about six months back.”

 “Good for you, he always was a bit of a prat.” Cath shot her friend a knowing glare. “What? He was. You’re better off being shot of him.”

 “He had his moments,” Cath conceded. “But it really just came down to different personalities. We were an ill match and couldn’t quite keep up the effort of trying to fit two pieces together that clearly weren’t meant to be.”

 “Sounds fair enough,” Emma agreed. “It isn’t fun when it happens, but I’ve seen far too many relationships drag on with both parties hurting because neither is willing to admit defeat.”

 The conversation quickly shifted towards the night’s production and then theatre in general. They laughed over pranks they’d either seen or experienced, different actors less than stellar attitudes, mishaps on and offstage, and just the ridiculousness of the field they’d found themselves in. Emma had several hysterical stories about Tom she readily shared and by the time the taxi pulled to a stop outside of the pub, all four women were wheezing with laughter.

 Still fizzing with amusement and mirth, they paid for the ride (Zawe as she’d done the expedient thing and handed the driver a twenty while the other three wasted time arguing how to splint the fare) and quickly made their way inside the pub, finding Tom and Jack waiting at a back table. Both had drinks placed before them; Tom’s, Cath noted with surprise, was half empty. How long ago had the arrived? It couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

 “Do I dare ask what’s so amusing?” Jack queried, leaning over to kiss Emma’s cheek as she settled beside him. She grinned as he passed her a glass of red wine.

 “My hero.” She paused to take a sip from her glass before answering. “Just old stories…”

 Cath couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or if she really did see Tom’s eyes narrow at his sister. Regardless, she brushed it off. Siblings squabbled all the time; lord knows she got into tiffs with her siblings all the time (though time and distance made the world of difference). Tom and Emma were no different.

 “You are a menace, Emma Grace. I swear,” Tom stated.

 “It’s my job as younger sister. Who else is going to take you down a peg or two…And who says it was stories about you, anyway?”

 “I was born at night, sister dear, but not last night.” Tom countered and with a snort Emma rolled her eyes.

 “Are they always like this?” Cath asked, settling into her own seat, next to Tom’s she noted with a sigh. This was the second time such a thing had happened, and given the present company somehow she didn’t think it was a coincidence. Once maybe. Twice…No way.

 Jack let out a rueful chuckle, “Quite a bit. Stubborn the lot of them.”

 “I’m beginning to see the pattern emerging,” Cath agreed.  

 “Like you don’t know a thing or two about annoying younger siblings…” Tom shot at her, smiling boldly.

 Cath grinned. “Oh I have years of experience. It’s just amusing to see you like this is all, Mr. I’ve-Got-Everything-Together.”

 Emma cackled. “Oh Tom, I like her.”

 Tom shot a quick look at Emma before turning towards Cath, with a crestfallen expression (that man just couldn’t seem to turn it off could he?). “And here I thought you would be on my side.”

 “I am on my own side,” Cath countered, smiling. “And that side is definitely in need of a drink. Back in a mo.”

 She pushed herself to her feet and made her way towards the bar.

 The pub wasn’t terribly crowded; she’d been able to grab her glass of Riesling and make it back to the table in less than ten minutes. She shot a smile at Zawe, who had apparently had the same idea, as the taller woman carried two drinks of her own (one Cath assumed was for Lorna judging by the content of the glass) back to the table.

 Cath settled back into her chair, glass in hand. “Now where were we?”

                                                          —

 “…So there I am, soaked to the skin, in the middle of Trafalgar Square wondering who the fuck I’d pissed off in a previous life,” Cath expounded, shaking her head at her own shit luck. “It had to be someone massive because, my hand to god, I have never ever been on such a horrid date.”

 “Jesus…” Tom started, “What a fucking cunt.”

 Cath took another swallow of her wine. “God, he really was. No idea what the fuck I thought I saw in him.”

 “To be fair,” Lorna cut in, with a quirk of her eyebrow, “He was quite fit. And he seemed like a decent bloke.”

 “We were both drunk as hell when we meant him, Lorn. Somehow, I think judgement was a bit skewed.”

 Lorna shrugged, taking a sip of her cider. “Fair point.”

 “At least you never ruined your date’s outfit about ten minutes into the evening,” Tom found himself adding, taking quick sip of his whiskey. The words came out quite without his consent; hell even thinking about that evening still made him shudder.

 He watched in horror as Zawe, Lorna, and Cath’s eyes all widened. Emma smirked into her own wine, having heard the story more than once (and telling it far more than he’d have liked) “This is great,” she laughed, nodding at her brother. “Do go on, Tom.”

 Tom felt his face flush. But it was far too late to back out now. Well, he thought, in for a penny…

 “I was…God, just about seventeen and about as gangly as you can imagine,” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I’d just gotten out of a growth spurt and was just about as awkward as I’d ever been…”

 “He was a mess, could barely walk without bumping into things…Imagine if you will a newborn giraffe and you’ve got a clear idea of just how bad it was.” Emma cut in, laughing hysterically.

 “Yes, thanks Em,” Tom hissed. “As I was saying…I’d gotten Alyssa Michaelson to agree to have dinner with me, I still don’t know how, and I wanted everything to be perfect. She was the prettiest girl in our neighborhood and fuck I was smitten. So I’d practically begged Mum to help me book a table at this really lovely restaurant in the town center. I’d picked her up at half eight and things were going well. Then we got to the table…and it was as if fate decided it hadn’t been paying me enough attention.” He paused and took another restorative gulp of whiskey, feeling the all too familiar humiliation creep over him. “I tripped heading towards the table and nearly took the hostess down with me. Which was bad enough and would have been sufficient to wound me for life had the next few minutes not happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, watching the mixture of amusement and horror on Cath, Lorna, and Zawe’s faces. “I thought I’d be a gentleman and pull her chair out for her and ended up elbowing her in the stomach. She stumbled back and fell right into the next table…who had just gotten their order of spaghetti.”

 “Oh Tom, you didn’t?” Cath exclaimed.

 Tom covered his face with his hand and nodded. “I did. She went right into the platter, red sauce all over her lovely white dress…”

 “And I’m guessing that’s where the date ended?” Zawe chimed in, not bothering to hide her laughter at his expense.

 “Yes, it was. She refused to let me help her up and all but bolted once she righted herself. It was one of the worst dates I have ever been on.” He could feel the heat that must have been radiated from his face. “Just about put me off dating for good…Or least for a long while.”

 A chorus of laughter erupted around him and he thanked god he’d drunk as much whiskey as he had. Going through that evening again remotely sober would have been absolute hell. Then again, had he not been slightly less than steady on his feet he might not have regaled them with the tale at all. Bringing the tumbler to his lips, he drained his remaining whiskey in one go, wincing slightly at the burn.

 He felt Jack shift on his left hand side and turned to face his brother in law. “Another?”

 Tom nodded. “Please”

 Jack grinned, standing and making his way towards the bar. Tom sighed. He’d had more to drink than he’d planned, more than was probably wise. Not that he was fall out drunk by any stretch, but he was far looser than he tended to allow himself to be in a public space. And far looser than he knew Luke or Michael would approve of him being.

 “You alright?”

 He shuddered as Cath’s warm breath tickled his ear. She’d had to lean over to ask her question and the feel of her so close was both heaven and hell. He slowly turned to face her, taking in the way her blue eyes sparkled with the combination of drink and concern. It touched him in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long; the way she seemed to care for him. He fought against the idea, knowing he was reading far too much into it. Cath was a warm and caring person. He’d seen her with the crew and with Charlie and Zawe, knew it was deeply ingrained in who she was. But for that moment, and if he were being honest for much, much longer, he wished it went beyond a simple kindness.

 “I’m fine,” he managed to get out, offering her a small smile. “I can’t believe I told that story.” He covered his embarrassment by burying his face in his hands. “God.”

 Tom felt her arm wrap around him, tightening briefly before pulling back. “So you aren’t always the knight in shining armor, Hiddleston. It’s okay to be human. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

 He dropped his hands and sighed. “I am far from a gallant knight, Cath. So far from it.”

 “What…” she started, brows wrinkling in confusion.

 “Nothing….I’m not perfect is all I’m saying.”

 Cath rolled her eyes. “Tom, I know that. And I, for one, don’t expect you to be perfect. If you were I’d have to hate you. And, frankly, that takes far too much effort.”

 “Whatca two birdies whispering about?” Lorna’s voice cut through the quiet intimacy which had fallen between them.

 “The price of tea in China,” Cath answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I adore you, Lorn, but fuck you’re nosey.”

 Lorna chuckled. “Aren’t we the feisty one?”

 Cath grinned and flipped her friend off. “Piss right on off.”

 Dropping her head back, Lorna broke into a boisterous laugh. “Aw, babe. Love you too.”

 “Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard that one before.” Cath sighed and shook her head. “You are a terrible influence on me.”

 Lorna batted her eyes. “Who? Me? Why I never…” And both women dissolved into a fit of helpless giggles.

 Jack returned, setting Tom’s whiskey before him on the table. Tom lifted it up and tipped the glass in Jack’s direction.

 “Cheers mate.” He brought the tumbler to his lips and took a slow, deep sip. He savored the way it burned sliding down his throat and knowing he’d most likely regret it come morning.

 Tom could sense movement beside him and turned to find Cath sliding her arms back into her coat. He couldn’t help that frown that spread across his face at the slow realization that she was leaving.

 A chorus of protests erupted from the table as she stood, fastening the green wool closed and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Oh hush you lot. It’s getting late and I’m knackered.” She turned towards Emma. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Emma. And you, Jack,” she added nodding in his direction.

 “We’ll need to do this again sometime. Feel free to pester my brother for my number.”

 Cath laughed and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 Tom pushed himself to his feet without thought. “Let me walk you out.”

 Cath blinked at him for several moments before answering. “I…Okay.”

 “Brilliant.” He shrugged into his own coat, ignoring the look of utter glee on his sister’s face. He was simply being a decent person. It was late and she’d been drinking. And you don’t want the evening to end just yet now do you?

 He shook the errant thought away, following Cath as she twisted her way through the room towards the main door. He winced as the cold wind slapped against his face as they stepped out into the fairly empty street. A few cars sped past as they approached the main road.

 “You really didn’t have to…” Cath started, wrapping her arms around her torso.

 “I know, but I wanted to all the same.” He spotted a black cab heading their way and stepped out, arm raised. The cab slowed and finally came to a stop before them. Tom reached out and opened the door. “Your carriage, m’lady.”

 Cath smiled at him, “Thank you, good sir.”

 He didn’t know how it happened; he’d leaned into give her a quick hug and peck on the cheek and she’d leaned in as well. Suddenly his lips were on hers, his arm wrapped around her small frame, pulling her tightly against him. The kiss was madness; warmth and light and magic. And just as abruptly it was over. She was climbing into the cab, the door slamming shut behind her. He watched in dawning confusion and disbelief as the taxi turned the corner and sped out of sight.

 “Fuck.”

Next Chapter

[mando-forgive-me]

Hi Emma! 🥺

Long time fan here! :) I really love your writing, and I really love your spicy blog, and I think you seem very very cool!!

I've been wanting to send you a message for a while, but I'm not sure if it is ok to interact with personal posts or talk about my own stuff in your inbox. If it's not ok I'm so sorry!!! stop reading here!

..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It's just that that thing about sex with strangers REALLY got me today. I relate to that SO much. It's EXACTLY how I feel. I love reading fanfic, and I love to daydream about fictional characters, but as soon as it comes to real life and real people... Even though I'm horny ALL THE TIME, I cannot fathom even just kissing someone I don't know, much less doing anything else with them... And it is so fascinating to me that people can actually want to hook up strangers??? It's almost inconceivable.

I think I'm demisexual, or somewhere in that vicinity, but I've never talked to anyone about it. And as cliché as this may be, my whole point in sending this is -- it is so comforting to know that someone else feels the same way. And it's that much more powerful when that validation comes from a favorite fic writer on tumblr rather than a subreddit in the depths of google search.

Your blog is such a huge comfort to me 🥺

I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries with this ask, and I am so sorry if I have.

-too shy to come off anon but sending all the good vibes 💙

Oh my gosh this is so sweet! 🥹

I’m so beyond honored and touched that you find comfort in my blog. You are absolutely not alone, love. Demisexuality is real and valid, as are you, even and especially when it can make sexual intimacy a bit challenging.

It was very considerate of you to put all the dashes and give me a heads up, but I’m happy to talk about personal stuff. If you ever want to talk more about this, my inbox and DMs are open. 💖

[americaswritings]

Cinderella |Part 5

Prompt: Fairy tale AU

Summary: When your father marries another woman, she brings not only two evil stepsisters into the house, but turns you into a maid. Working hard day for day your only hope is the princes ball, where he will pick is future wife. But will you be able to flee from the claws of your family?

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: sexual harassment (short), me sucking at writing first meetings

Pairing: Steve x reader

A/N: This is for @ruckystarnes‘ writing challenge. 

Sorry, this took so long. My life is a little stressful atm, but I will upload as soon as possible.

Also Bucky is in this one!! 

Tags are open! Only through asks! Please consider leaving me feedback :)

You made your way over to the dance floor and stopped when you reached it. It looked like so much fun to dance, but nobody had asked you yet and you couldn’t dance on your own. So you spend the time admiring the dancers from your spot.

Only a few minutes later, a young man had appeared on your side. He held out his arm without any word and you took it without any hesitation. 

-

You felt as if you were flying The music and the group of other dancers made you feel comfortable while your dance partner twirled you around. 

He had light brown shoulder long hair, which was tugged behind his ears and irritating blue eyes, which made his appearance even more unique. You realized that you didn’t know his name and it was impossible to ask now, since you were breathless and occupied not to trip. 

The song ended and the partners were traded. A dark haired man stood before you, his hair messy and his green eyes puffy. You could smell the alcohol from his breath and immediately got uncomfortable. 

The dance started and he grabbed your hip, only he squeezed it a little too tight. “Nice party huh?”, he asked and the wave of alcohol hit your face. You turned your face away in disgust and only nodded as a response.

“You are a really pretty thing actually”, he observed and studied you closer. You tried to put distance between his body and yours, but it didn’t work. His grip was too firm. 

You gazed up to see that he was still examining your body, staring at places you weren’t comfortable with. Your breath quickened and you pushed against his chest, but he only laughed at your attempt to turn him down. “Pretty feisty as well, huh?”

Before you could react to it, the hands were removed from your hips and you found yourself in the arms of another man. You heared the dark haired man protest, but a sharp look from your new dance partner made him still and he left. 

“I am sorry about that”, the man apologized with a sad smile and put some space between your bodies. He had baby blue eyes and blonde hair, which shimmered golden in the dimmed light. He wore a white suit, which was decorated with buttons and insignias. 

It took you a moment to recognize him, but then you gasped in surprise. You had only seen the prince once, when he had still been a child himself. Your mother had taken you to the market that day and you had seen the king and his son. He had taught the young prince about different kind of prices, who hadn’t looked interested at all.

“Oh, I am sorry, my prince”, you responded and bowed your head for a second. “There is no need to be formal”, he told you with a smile and you blushed. You were beyond grateful that he had saved you from the other man, but didn’t know how to express your appreciation.

After that it was silent. You danced for the rest of the song and the song after that and the one after that one. None of you made a move to change partners and so you danced with the prince for a long time. Although none of you said a word you told each other so many things, as if you communicated through your moves. 

Your bodies were in perfect synth and you even forgot about your shoes and the heavy dress. You felt light and if the prince hadn’t held you in his arms you felt like you would have flown off.

When the song ended the prince pulled you a little closer. “You are an amazing dance partner”, he confessed and you felt your cheeks getting red. “Thank you. You aren’t that bad either”, you noted and he laughed. 

“That is because I had to take dancing lessons my whole life”, he admitted and you blushed again. “Oh.” He smiled at you.

“Excuse me”, a high pitched voice pulled you out of your gaze. You felt like you had woken up from a dream, a beautiful dream and had to go back to the dull reality.

“There are other people who want to dance with the prince as well”, the woman with raven hair and narrowed eyes acknowleged in an accusing voice. She was wearing a red dress, that showed more skin than it covered.

“Oh my god, I am sorry”, you blushed and stepped back. Maybe you had overstepped your boundary without realizing it.

The prince seemed to be uncomfortable himself. He gazed to the ground, not knowing what to say. 

You rushed off without a word and made your way out of the crowd. You needed to get some air. 

You spotted a backdoor and sneaked outside.

The night was cold, but provided fresh air, which filled your lungs promptly. You walked away from the castle, embarassed at what had just happened. How did you mess up everything good that happened to you?

You realized that you were in the gardens. You didn’t know if you were allowed to be here, but a stubborn part of you thought that it wouldn’t matter if they arrested you. Maybe going to prison was even better when going back to your stepmother and stepsisters.

You found a bench and sat down. From the castle you heared the clock hitting 11 beats. You had an hour left until you had to return home, still you felt like the evening had just started. 

All of this- the dress, the shoes, the make-up- the betrayal of your family- for what exactly? A moment of dancing? Was it even worth it?

You sat there in silence and tried to get a clear head. You didn’t know how much time had passed by, but suddenly you heared a branch cracking.

“Can I sit here?”, a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. The prince was standing in front of you, fiddling with his sleeves. You nodded and made space for him.

“I am sorry for what happened”, he apologized after he had sat down. “Oh, there is no reason to apologize”, you assured him, realizing it was the second time he had apologized to you this evening.

“I think there is”, he confessed, peeking at your face. “I put you in an uncomfortable situation and I am sorry for that.” 

You still saw no reason for him to feel guilty, but let it go with a smile. “How did you find me here?”, you wondered and turned to get a better look on his face.

“I saw you slip out of the hall”, he explained with a chuckle. “Aren’t you cold?”, he questioned and you shook your head. 

“Maybe a little”, you admitted shyly. 

The next thing happened so quickly that you had no time to protest. The prince took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Thank you.”You felt your cheeks getting red and tried to cover it up with a little cough.

“No need to thank me”, he grinned. “I am Steve by the way.” He held out his hand, but you hesitated to shake it. “I am not sure if it is appropriate if I called you that”, you pointed out.

“Nobody would know. Besides- I don’t care”, he responded with a grin and you nodded. “I am (y/n)”

-

You spend the rest of the night with Steve in the gardens. You wondered if nobody would question his absence, but he told you that the most people were probably to drunk to realize he was missing. 

He told you a lot about his life and himself and you felt like it made him feel better. There seemed to be a weight on his shoulders that he carried around his whole life and talking to somebody else made it better.

You wished that you could do the same, tell him everything about your life, but that wasn’t possible. You couldn’t betray your family like that nor could you trust the prince enough to reveal this secret.

You liked him, you really did; he seemed to be selfless and kind and caring, but once you would admit your secret you wouldn’t be able to take it back. There was a reason they treated you like this, and you figured once the prince would know, he wouldn’t look at you the same again.

How could he, when he would learn that you were a maid with no friends and no loved ones. If nobody loves you, something is really wrong if you. Maybe you don’t deserve love. Maybe you are worthless. 

Your stepmother had taught you that a long time ago and you couldn’t bare the prince looking at you in pity or disgust.

So every time Steve asked you something about yourself, you blocked. Instead you told him something else, mostly stories from your childhood when your mother had still been alive. When everything had been perfect.

“She seemes like a great woman”, he gently smiled at you. “I hope I will be able to meet her some day.” Your heart squeezed in pain at his words and you blinked away the tears. “I am sure she would love you”, you responded with a fake smile, but Steve had furrowed his brows. 

But before he could say anything the clock began to hit 12. Panicking you looked around. “Is everything alright?”, Steve asked worried. You nodded, but shook your head at the same time. “I have to go”, you stuttered and got up from the bench.

“Thank you for the jacket.” You pressed it to his chest and turned around. “And thank your for the nice evening”, you yelled over your shoulder while running away as fast as possible. 

“Wait, (y/n)”, you heared his baffled voice in the distance, but you couldn’t turn around. Fortunaley he wasn’t following you, so you only concentrated on making it home as quickly as possible.

You saw the first carriages taking people home and sped even more. 

If your family would be home before you were, they would kill you.

Tags: Permanent Tags: @capkilljoy @not-reptilian  @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @justanotherfangirl272 @theshortegg Marvel Tags: @iamwarrenspeace Steve Tags: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory Cinderella Tags: @farfromjustordinary @wildestdreamsrps @sydthekid1518 @100kindsofblake @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics @its-forevermore @lobathenerd

Tags are open! Only through asks! Please leave feeback :)

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Eleven

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 11/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Previous

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cath blinked slowly, her attention flicking from Emma to Tom and then back again. Emma smiled expectantly back at her, clearly waiting for her to crumble under the pressure. Tom’s expression was decidedly less joyful. The glare he leveled at his sister would have frozen the blood of weaker men (or women, in this case). She turned, letting her gaze fall on Zawe and Lorna. They appeared far too amused by the events taken place before them. The smiles they shared, both with each other and then, surprisingly, with Emma, left Cath more than a little apprehensive.

Having Zawe and Lorna pestering her about whatever it was, or was not, happening between her and Tom was difficult enough. Not that there was anything save a cautious friendship at best. And even that felt as though it was on shaky ground more often than not. The idea of Emma somehow factoring into all that mess put Cath’s teeth on edge.

There was only one way this could end. Badly.

“Emma,” She started, finally finding her voice. She quite liked the woman, despite their short acquaintance (and the growing sense of unease regarding possible meddling), and certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. But the obvious unease and annoyance radiating from Tom at the mention of her crashing what was clearly meant to be an intimate family gathering, made her hesitate. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your brother…”

“Nonsense.” Emma quipped, waving her hand as if she could simply brush away Cath’s concern. “It’s just drinks and catching up. Besides, with how you’ve been all Allie’s gone on about since this afternoon, I feel like it’s my duty to get to know you better.” Her eyes flicked to Zawe and Lorna and she smiled warmly at them. “And I know you’ve all got stories that are too good to pass up.”

“Emma, they probably have plans,” Tom stepped in, looking at this sister with a hand held out before him. He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair.

“Actually, I’m good,” Lorna chimed in.

Zawe smiled, nodding. “Me as well.”

Both women turned their attention towards Cath and she felt her unease grow steadily under their knowing looks. At this point she trusted the two them about as far as she could throw them. As much as she liked Zawe and Lorna, their prodding and less than subtle hinting were trying to say the least. Frankly, she expected better from Zawe given her profession.

Going along with this hair-brained idea would undoubtingly end in more trouble than it was worth. Especially given Tom’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. And even if that wasn’t the case, Cath knew without a shadow of a doubt that Tom plus alcohol plus unease plus those three (something told her Emma, Zawe, Lorna together would be nothing but unfathomable trouble) equaled a very, very bad idea.

The last thing she wanted was for the fragile…friendship (thinking it as anything other than that was stupid and dangerous) growing between them to shatter. She liked Tom, in more ways than she wanted to look into, and had very much enjoyed working with him on this project. She enjoyed getting to know the man behind the mask of professionalism.

He was a charming, warm, intelligent man and he made her smile. Talking with him, sharing stories and ideas about nearly any and everything, had become something infinitely precious to her. Messing that up by overstepping the invisible boundaries they’d erected, by putting herself into a situation this man clearly was not interested in being in at this point in time, it wasn’t what she wanted in the slightest.    

“Emma,” she started again, infusing her voice with as much reason as she could manage. She hoped it would be enough to sway Emma. “Tom obviously wants to spend time with just you and your husband. I can’t in all good consciousness intrude on that.” She steadfast avoided looking at Tom but could feel his eyes on her. This was rapidly going from bad to worse and Cath wanted nothing more in that moment then to be at home, curled up with a glass of wine, far away from meddling friends and coworkers.

“Cath, that’s not what I meant,” Tom started, taking a step towards her, his brow knitted. “You know I enjoy spending time with…”

“See,” Emma chimed in, cutting Tom off mid-sentence. “He’s fine with it. Just say you’ll come, please. I would honestly like to get to know you, Zawe, and Lorna better.”

It was obvious to Cath, and clearly the rest of their small group (if their expressions were anything to go by), that this was a battle that could not be won. Not without more bloodshed than she’d ever be comfortable with. Taking a deep breath, Cath turned to face Emma once again. “Just one drink. One.”

Emma’s face broke into a triumphant grin. “I can live with that.” Cath smiled quietly back, sincerely hoping she wouldn’t regret this. She couldn’t, however, shake the sinking feeling she definitely would.

“Fantastic,” Zawe answered with a grin, clapping her hands together. She turned towards Tom. “Can I get the address so I can book a cab?”

Appearing flummoxed by the rapid turn of events, Tom blinked uncomprehendingly at Zawe for several moments before rattling off the pub he’d chosen. One far enough away from the theatre to hopefully avoid running into any curious fans, Cath noted with a wry sense of amusement. It made sense, this was technically his ‘off’ time and, from everything she had observed, it was something Tom guarded fiercely. And that made their intrusion, and Tom’s reluctant agreement to it, all the more puzzling to her.

Cath shook the thought away, not wanting to head too far down that road at this particular moment in time. She was vaguely aware of Zawe thanking him before pulling out her mobile and ducking from the room. And then of Emma ducking out quickly after.

“That can’t be good,” she murmured to herself. Tom’s amused chuckle startled her and Cath quickly shot her eyes up towards him. Apparently she’d been louder than she thought.

He just smiled wryly and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve learned sometimes it’s best just not to ask.”  

She quirked an eyebrow. “And how well has that worked for you?”

Tom grinned sheepishly, shrugging. “It’s a varied process, studies are inconclusive.”

“Alright,” Zawe announced. Cath’s eyes shot up towards the door, watching as Zawe walked back into the room, Emma following closely behind. “Taxi should be here in ten.”

“Fantastic, I’ll grab our bags and coats shall I?” Lorna called, already half out the door. Her steps echoed up the metal staircase and Cath shook her head. Someone’s over-eager.

She turned her attention back to the room at large, catching Tom shoot his sister a level look. Emma simply smiled innocently in return before heading towards the tall sandy haired man Cath took as her husband. He had been hanging back from the main group, watching the groups’ interaction with what appeared to be wry amusement. He was clearly used to Emma and her meddling. Emma kissed him briefly before grabbing her handbag from him and walking back towards Zawe.

“So I will be riding with the girls,” Emma called out to her brother, “so you and Jack can head off whenever you’d like and we’ll meet you there.”

Tom stared at her unease painting across his features. It was abundantly clear Tom was not thrilled by this announcement, though whether it was not wanting to be alone with his brother-in-law (doubtful) or not wanting his sister alone with them (most likely but leading to far more questions than Cath wanted to entertain). “Em, seriously, we’re all going to the same place. Why don’t you just ride with Jack and me?”

“Don’t Em me, Tom. We are all going to the same place. So what difference does that make to anything? Besides, if our lovely Cath has to duck out early, then I want the chance to talk with her for a bit. The ride over gives us a chance to do so, all of us girls mind, without you jumping in. Makes it easier for me to get all those embarrassing stories out.” She grinned cheekily at Tom.

Tom opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Jack came up behind him and placed a hand on his arm. Cath watched the interplay between them with a curious fascination. It was obvious both men adored Emma and both were very aware of who she was and all which that entailed. “Not worth it, mate,” Jack sighed, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know.”

“Oi,” Emma laughed. “Mind who you’re speaking about. I am right here.”

“Not so fun now is it?” Tom smirked. Emma playfully narrowed her eyes at her elder brother.

“Alright, enough with the sass brigade,” Cath called out, holding up her hands. If they were going to do this (and she was not one known for backing out of challenge no matter how she might have wanted to…And challenge this would most certainly be), the sooner the better. Lest she lose her nerve. “Now are we leaving or not?”

Beside her, Zawe and Lorna (who must have darted back into the room while she wasn’t looking) snorted. She shot them a quick ‘behave’ glare before turning her attention back to the Hiddleston clan who all nodded silently, varying degrees of amusement and embarrassment on their faces.

Cath laughed and shook her head, grabbing her coat and bag from her friend’s arms. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

                                                          —

They piled into the back of the black cab, Cath sliding beside the far window, letting her eyes wander over the street. Most of the crowd had dissipated, though there were a good handful still waiting by stage door. Probably in hopes of a glance of Tom as he left. The tell-tale yells a few moments later told her he must have appeared from the stage door.

Emma settled beside her, chuckling. “I will never get used to that.”

Cath raised an eyebrow, though she was fairly sure she knew Emma’s meaning.

“The screaming. It’s just so…weird. He is my giant, dork of a brother. The whole ‘famous actor’ thing is just so…Not him.”

“He seriously is one of the most down to earth ‘celebrities’, and I use that word loosely because he just doesn’t fit that mold, that I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Cath answered. And he truly was. For as much pressure as she was sure he placed himself under (he was that type, she could see it clearly. Someone who expected a great deal of themselves no matter what anyone else had to say in the matter), she had never heard him utter a word in anger to anyone on the crew or cast. And while she knew he got frustrated (he was human after all), he did his best to keep his annoyance in check. That didn’t mean he hadn’t had a sharp word with those who tested him, but it never seemed to be out of a place of anger or to harm.  

By this time Zawe and Lorna had settled across from them. “He really is a gem,” Lorna piped up. “You all are,” she added, nodding at Zawe.

“Aw, bless,” Zawe chuckled, “flattery will get you everywhere.”

“That answers so many questions,” Lorna joked. The back of the cab exploded in laughter.

“I’m an actress darling, I live for flattery.” Zawe struggled to keep a straight face as she continued. “Mack, my partner, always jokes that one day he’ll have to widen the doorway just to fit my head in.” They all laughed. “Man is lucky I love him.”

“Here, here,” Emma echoed. “Lord knows Jack can be the same way. Sometimes I swear men talk without bothering to engage their brains. And god knows, we still love them anyway.”

“My Laurie’s the same.” Lorna added, laughing. “But he can be so damned charming when he wants to.”

Emma turned her attention towards Cath. “So, I’m sure you have the same issue with your partner…” It was a leading question and if she hadn’t recognized it as such, the curiosity in Emma’s eyes would have put to rest any doubt. The only thing was Cath wasn’t completely sure where she was going with this. Part of her wondered if this might be on behalf of Tom…But that was ridiculous. If Tom had been interested at all, he would have asked himself, not sent his baby sister on a ferreting mission. And he hadn’t.

They talked about music, movies, theatre, productions they’d been on (the good, the bad, and the frankly bizarre), family, friends…Just about everything. But never once had the topic of relationships, past or present, come up. It was understandable. Though she did not follow celebrity gossip as a general rule of thumb, it was impossible to avoid what had happened that summer almost two years prior. From what she had seen, the press had been brutal and she couldn’t blame him for playing those cards close to his chest.

“Gavin certainly has his moments,” Lorna chimed in, smiling knowingly at Cath.

Lorna never had much liked her most recent ex, and if Cath was being completely honest she couldn’t blame her. Gavin wasn’t a bad person, per se, he was just…a fair bit opinionated. He was a bright man, worked hard as a barrister, and though he appreciated the arts (they’d met at a charity function for one of the theatres she’d worked at three years back) he had the unfortunate habit of being a bit of a…snob. And it had rankled her friends, most of her family (though her mother had always had a soft spot for him) as well. But Cath had cared for him and had done her best to accept his faults. Though after nearly a year together, those faults far outweighed the good she tried to find in him. So she had ended it…Or well, they both had. They’d parted on remarkably decent terms.  

“He did,” Cath agreed. “We broke it off about six months back.”

“Good for you, he always was a bit of a prat.” Cath shot her friend a knowing glare. “What? He was. You’re better off being shot of him.”

“He had his moments,” Cath conceded. “But it really just came down to different personalities. We were an ill match and couldn’t quite keep up the effort of trying to fit two pieces together that clearly weren’t meant to be.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Emma agreed. “It isn’t fun when it happens, but I’ve seen far too many relationships drag on with both parties hurting because neither is willing to admit defeat.”

The conversation quickly shifted towards the night’s production and then theatre in general. They laughed over pranks they’d either seen or experienced, different actors less than stellar attitudes, mishaps on and offstage, and just the ridiculousness of the field they’d found themselves in. Emma had several hysterical stories about Tom she readily shared and by the time the taxi pulled to a stop outside of the pub, all four women were wheezing with laughter.

Still fizzing with amusement and mirth, they paid for the ride (Zawe as she’d done the expedient thing and handed the driver a twenty while the other three wasted time arguing how to splint the fare) and quickly made their way inside the pub, finding Tom and Jack waiting at a back table. Both had drinks placed before them; Tom’s, Cath noted with surprise, was half empty. How long ago had the arrived? It couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

“Do I dare ask what’s so amusing?” Jack queried, leaning over to kiss Emma’s cheek as she settled beside him. She grinned as he passed her a glass of red wine.

“My hero.” She paused to take a sip from her glass before answering. “Just old stories…”

Cath couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or if she really did see Tom’s eyes narrow at his sister. Regardless, she brushed it off. Siblings squabbled all the time; lord knows she got into tiffs with her siblings all the time (though time and distance made the world of difference). Tom and Emma were no different.

“You are a menace, Emma Grace. I swear,” Tom stated.

“It’s my job as younger sister. Who else is going to take you down a peg or two…And who says it was stories about you, anyway?”

“I was born at night, sister dear, but not last night.” Tom countered and with a snort Emma rolled her eyes.

“Are they always like this?” Cath asked, settling into her own seat, next to Tom’s she noted with a sigh. This was the second time such a thing had happened, and given the present company somehow she didn’t think it was a coincidence. Once maybe. Twice…No way.

Jack let out a rueful chuckle, “Quite a bit. Stubborn the lot of them.”

“I’m beginning to see the pattern emerging,” Cath agreed.  

“Like you don’t know a thing or two about annoying younger siblings…” Tom shot at her, smiling boldly.

Cath grinned. “Oh I have years of experience. It’s just amusing to see you like this is all, Mr. I’ve-Got-Everything-Together.”

Emma cackled. “Oh Tom, I like her.”

Tom shot a quick look at Emma before turning towards Cath, with a crestfallen expression (that man just couldn’t seem to turn it off could he?). “And here I thought you would be on my side.”

“I am on my own side,” Cath countered, smiling. “And that side is definitely in need of a drink. Back in a mo.”

She pushed herself to her feet and made her way towards the bar.

The pub wasn’t terribly crowded; she’d been able to grab her glass of Riesling and make it back to the table in less than ten minutes. She shot a smile at Zawe, who had apparently had the same idea, as the taller woman carried two drinks of her own (one Cath assumed was for Lorna judging by the content of the glass) back to the table.

Cath settled back into her chair, glass in hand. “Now where were we?”

                                                        —

“…So there I am, soaked to the skin, in the middle of Trafalgar Square wondering who the fuck I’d pissed off in a previous life,” Cath expounded, shaking her head at her own shit luck. “It had to be someone massive because, my hand to god, I have never ever been on such a horrid date.”

“Jesus…” Tom started, “What a fucking cunt.”

Cath took another swallow of her wine. “God, he really was. No idea what the fuck I thought I saw in him.”

“To be fair,” Lorna cut in, with a quirk of her eyebrow, “He was quite fit. And he seemed like a decent bloke.”

“We were both drunk as hell when we meant him, Lorn. Somehow, I think judgement was a bit skewed.”

Lorna shrugged, taking a sip of her cider. “Fair point.”

“At least you never ruined your date’s outfit about ten minutes into the evening,” Tom found himself adding, taking quick sip of his whiskey. The words came out quite without his consent; hell even thinking about that evening still made him shudder.

He watched in horror as Zawe, Lorna, and Cath’s eyes all widened. Emma smirked into her own wine, having heard the story more than once (and telling it far more than he’d have liked) “This is great,” she laughed, nodding at her brother. “Do go on, Tom.”

Tom felt his face flush. But it was far too late to back out now. Well, he thought, in for a penny…

“I was…God, just about seventeen and about as gangly as you can imagine,” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I’d just gotten out of a growth spurt and was just about as awkward as I’d ever been…”

“He was a mess, could barely walk without bumping into things…Imagine if you will a newborn giraffe and you’ve got a clear idea of just how bad it was.” Emma cut in, laughing hysterically.

“Yes, thanks Em,” Tom hissed. “As I was saying…I’d gotten Alyssa Michaelson to agree to have dinner with me, I still don’t know how, and I wanted everything to be perfect. She was the prettiest girl in our neighborhood and fuck I was smitten. So I’d practically begged Mum to help me book a table at this really lovely restaurant in the town center. I’d picked her up at half eight and things were going well. Then we got to the table…and it was as if fate decided it hadn’t been paying me enough attention.” He paused and took another restorative gulp of whiskey, feeling the all too familiar humiliation creep over him. “I tripped heading towards the table and nearly took the hostess down with me. Which was bad enough and would have been sufficient to wound me for life had the next few minutes not happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, watching the mixture of amusement and horror on Cath, Lorna, and Zawe’s faces. “I thought I’d be a gentleman and pull her chair out for her and ended up elbowing her in the stomach. She stumbled back and fell right into the next table…who had just gotten their order of spaghetti.”

“Oh Tom, you didn’t?” Cath exclaimed.

Tom covered his face with his hand and nodded. “I did. She went right into the platter, red sauce all over her lovely white dress…”

“And I’m guessing that’s where the date ended?” Zawe chimed in, not bothering to hide her laughter at his expense.

“Yes, it was. She refused to let me help her up and all but bolted once she righted herself. It was one of the worst dates I have ever been on.” He could feel the heat that must have been radiated from his face. “Just about put me off dating for good…Or least for a long while.”

A chorus of laughter erupted around him and he thanked god he’d drunk as much whiskey as he had. Going through that evening again remotely sober would have been absolute hell. Then again, had he not been slightly less than steady on his feet he might not have regaled them with the tale at all. Bringing the tumbler to his lips, he drained his remaining whiskey in one go, wincing slightly at the burn.

He felt Jack shift on his left hand side and turned to face his brother in law. “Another?”

Tom nodded. “Please”

Jack grinned, standing and making his way towards the bar. Tom sighed. He’d had more to drink than he’d planned, more than was probably wise. Not that he was fall out drunk by any stretch, but he was far looser than he tended to allow himself to be in a public space. And far looser than he knew Luke or Michael would approve of him being.

“You alright?”

He shuddered as Cath’s warm breath tickled his ear. She’d had to lean over to ask her question and the feel of her so close was both heaven and hell. He slowly turned to face her, taking in the way her blue eyes sparkled with the combination of drink and concern. It touched him in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long; the way she seemed to care for him. He fought against the idea, knowing he was reading far too much into it. Cath was a warm and caring person. He’d seen her with the crew and with Charlie and Zawe, knew it was deeply ingrained in who she was. But for that moment, and if he were being honest for much, much longer, he wished it went beyond a simple kindness.

“I’m fine,” he managed to get out, offering her a small smile. “I can’t believe I told that story.” He covered his embarrassment by burying his face in his hands. “God.”

Tom felt her arm wrap around him, tightening briefly before pulling back. “So you aren’t always the knight in shining armor, Hiddleston. It’s okay to be human. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

He dropped his hands and sighed. “I am far from a gallant knight, Cath. So far from it.”

“What…” she started, brows wrinkling in confusion.

“Nothing….I’m not perfect is all I’m saying.”

Cath rolled her eyes. “Tom, I know that. And I, for one, don’t expect you to be perfect. If you were I’d have to hate you. And, frankly, that takes far too much effort.”

“Whatca two birdies whispering about?” Lorna’s voice cut through the quiet intimacy which had fallen between them.

“The price of tea in China,” Cath answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I adore you, Lorn, but fuck you’re nosey.”

Lorna chuckled. “Aren’t we the feisty one?”

Cath grinned and flipped her friend off. “Piss right on off.”

Dropping her head back, Lorna broke into a boisterous laugh. “Aw, babe. Love you too.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard that one before.” Cath sighed and shook her head. “You are a terrible influence on me.”

Lorna batted her eyes. “Who? Me? Why I never…” And both women dissolved into a fit of helpless giggles.

Jack returned, setting Tom’s whiskey before him on the table. Tom lifted it up and tipped the glass in Jack’s direction.

“Cheers mate.” He brought the tumbler to his lips and took a slow, deep sip. He savored the way it burned sliding down his throat and knowing he’d most likely regret it come morning.

Tom could sense movement beside him and turned to find Cath sliding her arms back into her coat. He couldn’t help that frown that spread across his face at the slow realization that she was leaving.

A chorus of protests erupted from the table as she stood, fastening the green wool closed and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Oh hush you lot. It’s getting late and I’m knackered.” She turned towards Emma. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Emma. And you, Jack,” she added nodding in his direction.

“We’ll need to do this again sometime. Feel free to pester my brother for my number.”

Cath laughed and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tom pushed himself to his feet without thought. “Let me walk you out.”

Cath blinked at him for several moments before answering. “I…Okay.”

“Brilliant.” He shrugged into his own coat, ignoring the look of utter glee on his sister’s face. He was simply being a decent person. It was late and she’d been drinking. And you don’t want the evening to end just yet now do you?

He shook the errant thought away, following Cath as she twisted her way through the room towards the main door. He winced as the cold wind slapped against his face as they stepped out into the fairly empty street. A few cars sped past as they approached the main road.

“You really didn’t have to…” Cath started, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“I know, but I wanted to all the same.” He spotted a black cab heading their way and stepped out, arm raised. The cab slowed and finally came to a stop before them. Tom reached out and opened the door. “Your carriage, m’lady.”

Cath smiled at him, “Thank you, good sir.”

He didn’t know how it happened; he’d leaned into give her a quick hug and peck on the cheek and she’d leaned in as well. Suddenly his lips were on hers, his arm wrapped around her small frame, pulling her tightly against him. The kiss was madness; warmth and light and magic. And just as abruptly it was over. She was climbing into the cab, the door slamming shut behind her. He watched in dawning confusion and disbelief as the taxi turned the corner and sped out of sight.

“Fuck.”

Next

[sammy-moo]

Super Awkward

Characters: Jared x Reader, Jensen

Words: 1,019

Warnings: Comical fluff

A/N: This is for @impalaimagining‘s Cheesy Pickup Line Challenge. My prompt will be in italics. Gif is not mine, it was brought to you by google. 

Also this is my first RPF. Criticism and pointers to writing Jared are welcome!

Jared hummed as him and Jensen drank their beers. It had been a very long but eventful day. It was full of panels and even photo ops. However, it was nice for the two to finally wind down.

“We can’t get too drunk now Jare. We have a panel first thing in the morning.”

Jared nodded, “Right… I know.”

Jensen sighed knowing that look. Jared had often got it. He was a single man in his thirties.

While Jared always loved Jensen’s family like his own, he would often times long for his own. He wanted a wife to come home to and their children running towards him to climb him like a jungle gym.

But often times, finding someone was very hard for him. He lived a busy life and Jared needed someone who understood that- someone who would sacrifice so much and still love him.

Danneel always tried setting him up, but something was missing. It always was.

Until you.

Jared caught sight of you at the bar.

Jensen looked to his friend and blinked, having realized what was going on. “Go talk to her.”

“What? No… I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. Just go tell her a joke or something. If you don’t do it, you’ll never know.”

Jared chewed on his bottom lip as he looked to his best friend. He was beginning to realize he was right.

You looked over having noticed the two. Part of you wanted to squeal and run over to get a picture, but another part wanted to stay put. Besides, the alcohol buzzing through your system made you want to be brave. But deep inside your gut was telling you to leave them be and let them relax. You glanced away from the two gorgeous men and back to your drink, taking another sip.

Jared sighed and got up, leaving their table behind to come speak with you. He went over everything he could even say, but decided on a cheesy pick-up line.

You glanced to see him in all of his six foot four glory, leaning awkwardly against the bar to talk to you. He had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his beautiful, ever changing hazel eyes bore into your’s.

“Are you French? ‘Cause ma-DAMN,” he slurred out a bit, with extra emphasis on the word damn.

All the blood that seemed to be flowing through your body made it’s way to your face. Your head began spinning. The one and only Jared Padalecki was standing here flirting with you.

His drunken, goofy smile soon faded when all you were doing was blushing and staring at him. Were you going to fall over and faint? Were you going to throw your drink in his face? Tell him how lame he was?

“Oh god… You’re married aren’t you? I’m so sorry I’m not trying to overstep any boundaries. I just saw you from my table and thought you were beautiful, and Jensen was encouraging me to come talk to you and now that I even said this stupid pick-up line I’m beginning to wish I had considered you might be taken and I just… Man I’m stupid. I’ll just leave you be,” Jared nervously rambled far too quickly for you to understand. He straightened up and was about to walk away until you started laughing. His heart stopped. His brows furrowed into confusion as he tried to read your expression.

You held your hand to your chest as you laughed, reaching up to wipe a tear away.

“It’s okay Jared, really.” You held up your left hand to help emphasis your point, “Not married. And I’m not taken. Usually cheesy pick-up lines don’t work on me, but tonight they are.”

Jared blinked, trying to understand the situation, “Wait… You- oh god…. This is embarrassing…”

Your eyes widened a bit and you quickly reached forward to place a hand on his arm. Once your small hand fell upon his sweaty, tanned skin you quickly pulled away. You felt like you had just invaded his personal space by not even asking, but you wanted to comfort him somehow. Without touching him, you had to hope your words would be enough.

“Hey, Jared it’s fine. Yes I’m a fan of the show but I know more than enough to respect your privacy and everything else. If knowing I’m a fan means you aren’t interested anymore than that’s okay. You at least had the balls to even attempt. Far more brave than I could ever be over it….”

Jared gulped and looked back to Jensen who gave him a thumbs up. He then turned back to look at you, “Honestly… Fan or not, I’m not changing my mind. I’m uh, I’m gonna be in town for the rest of the weekend. Do you think we could catch a dinner sometime, eat movie?” Jared chuckled and shook his head at his words, “Catch a movie and eat dinner.”

You blushed even more if it was possible, biting your lip you shyly nodded your head, “That would be nice. Uhm… Mind if I give you my number?”

“Oh!” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone. He fumbled a bit with the small gadget until he pulled up the contacts page, handing it to you easily.

You smiled a bit and put your number in, “Just do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he breathed out with a smile.

“Let me know who it is when you contact me?”

Jared smiled, “R- right. Of course.”

You smiled to him, “One more thing….” You handed him a napkin to help collect his sweat.

Jared smiled gratefully to you, “Thank you. Um, I never got your name by the way?”

“Well, you can call me Y/N or ma-DAMN.”

Jared laughed and wiped some of the sweat away, “Y/N…. I like it, it’s a beautiful name. I uh… I’ll call you. Will I see you at the con during the rest of the weekend? Or will I have to wait till dinner?”

You blushed more, “Don’t be late for the panel in the morning?”

Tagging:  @sleepywinchester, @hay-yo-its-jo, @timeforsmut, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @because-imma-lady-assface, @growningupgeek, @abbessolute, @keelzy2, @wideawakeandwriting, @super-not-naturall, @babypieandwhiskey, @wi-deangirl77, @ilsawasanacrobat, @impala-dreamer, @becs-bunker, @inlovewithbja, @mistressofallthingsgeeky

[katbishop-blog1]

A Fire in Winter (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

title: a fire in winter

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: language, mentions of injuries, slow burn

a/n: i haven’t written anything in goddamn forever but my inspiration finally hit so hopefully y’all like it omg

Bucky Barnes has never been good at relationships.

Really. Not even back in the day. Sure, he could show a girl a good time. Come in, sweep her off her feet in a whirlwind of sweet talk and stereotypical romance…for a month or two, until they both got bored, until they both realized they were nothing more to the other than a pretty face, until their affair quietly faded into a barely remembered footnote in their lives’ stories. Hell, it wasn’t even just with his girlfriends. Outside of his family, the only person he’d ever kept around very long was Steve (and the Howling Commandos, he supposed, but the intensity of the brotherhood forged in the fires of war never made giving up on them on option).

Bucky Barnes used to be good at romance, yeah, but he’s never been good at relationships. And that was before they threw his brain in a blender.

If his skill with relationships before was nothing more than a match, quickly lit and quickly burned out, now, he’s gotta be…fuck, he doesn’t know. Something invisible. No, not invisible. He wishes he was invisible. People notice him, alright. He’s cold and unapproachable, intimidating and mean looking. The kind of guy you’d cross the street so you wouldn’t have to walk past him. If he was a match before, he’s a pile of ashes now: dark and grey and cold and ugly and all in all, pretty goddamn useless.

It bothers him less than it should. He’s not James Buchanan Barnes anymore, the handsome and witty Sergeant. He has nothing to offer the ladies — or anyone — anymore except bloodstained hands. If he’s unapproachable, good. If no one wants to get involved with him, then no one will get hurt because of him.

He knows he wasn’t responsible for those killed by the Winter Soldier. Just like he knows that it’s still his responsibility that he was powerless to stop it. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t break free. He sat there, hidden inside his own body, as he killed, and he was powerless to stop it. And he knows if he ever cares about anyone again, and if they get hurt…it’ll be his fault for not being strong enough to stop it. No amount of Steve’s assurances will change that. That it’s his fault.

He’s accepted it all — accepted being a shadow of a ghost of a man long since dead, hidden deep in the shell of a monster. Isn’t much he can do about it but accept it. He keeps fighting, for Steve, for the man Steve seems to think he still is, to try and save more lives than he’s ruined, but he knows atonement is a lost cause. He’s a broken tool of evil. Nothing more. He’s accepted it.

Or he had.

Then you had to show up and ruin it all.

Other than Steve, the Avengers leave him to his own devices. They know he’s not a fan of human interaction, and none of them seem to be that big fans of him, either, and so they pretty much avoid him.

But…but then you show up, and he has a thought he hasn’t had in a long, long time: she’s pretty. You show up, recruited by Maria Hill, a former SHIELD agent, an Inhuman who can control and create fire, and you’re all smiles and laughs and soft curves and messy hair and bright eyes, and Bucky swears his heart stops the moment he sees you. And then you walk over to him, quietly standing in the doorway of the room observing everyone, and introduce yourself. You make small talk. You’re utterly unbothered by his gruffness, his one word responses, his clear nervousness, his coldness, all of it. And he’s utterly confused.

He looks up your file that night, and it blows him away, because you’ve been through so goddamn much. So goddamn much. And yet you’re smiling and laughing and so, so kind. How in the world can so much pain make someone so kind? And you were kind to him. Him. He doesn’t deserve it, he knows he doesn’t.

That night, he has his first nightmare in over a year. It’s about killing you.

He makes up his mind the second he wakes up; he can’t have feelings for you. Feelings are for people, and he’s not really sure what he is anymore, but he doesn’t quite feel like a person. He’s…he’s a hand grenade, with the pin loose enough to be dangerous, ready to explode if anyone pokes or prods it in the least. He can’t expose you to that. He can’t. He makes up his mind to avoid you at all costs. It’s easier that way.

Except it’s not easy at all.

If he’s eating breakfast, you’ll pull up a chair next to him, grabbing your cereal and sleepily telling him good morning, asking how he slept, what his plans for the day are. If he’s in the gym, the second he takes a break, you’re asking him to spot for you or help you stretch out (and by god, does that second one not help his crush). You challenge him to friendly competitions at the shooting range. He can’t avoid you. It’s not even like you’re deliberately seeking him out; you’re just treating him like any of the other team members, and somehow, that makes him feel worse. You’re not being friendly out of pity, or trying to help fix him, or any of that. You’re treating him like he’s a normal person. And that makes him feel fucking awful, because you almost do actually make him feel normal, like he’s not a goddamn hand grenade or pile of ash or what-fucking-ever. Like he’s not a monster.

The night that wrecks him is about three months into your stint as an Avenger. The rest of the team are out on missions or personal business or Avengers business or whatever. He doesn’t know; he doesn’t ask. It’s you, him, and Vision. Vision is almost more awkward than if it were just you and him. Bucky still doesn’t know how to react to a goddamned robot, and Vision isn’t exactly an expert at human interaction, either.

He’s alone in his room, writing — he’s always alone in his room — when you knock on the door. “I’m gonna teach Vis how to play poker, wanna play?” He kinda stares at you for a second, unsure of how to respond, so you continue. “Please? It’ll be way more fun with three of us.”

“I…I don’t know…” This isn’t exactly falling in line with the avoiding you plan.

But then you give him a comically childish pout with your best puppy dog eyes and a “Please, Bucky?” and he crumbles. He laughs and rolls his eyes, telling you alright, fine. You eagerly grab his hand, hauling him up from his seat, pulling him behind you as you lead him to the common room. He hopes you haven’t noticed how sweaty his hands are, and he’s glad you’re leading him, not looking back at his blush.

It’s fun. It’s actually fun, hanging out with the girl of his dreams and an android. He enjoys himself in spite of himself, in spite of his nerves and uncomfortableness and awkwardness. He feels his heart swell when he makes some snarky comment and you laugh. Hell, he feels his heart swell whenever you laugh, whatever the cause. When you finally lose (and that takes all night, because somehow, this cute little girl is damn good at poker), you get mad and incinerate your hand of cards and he’s gone. Head over heels for you.

A week later, he’s alone in his room, and once again, you knock on the door. You trudge in with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, a worn paperback in your hands, and a scowl on your face. “Can I read in here? Everywhere else in the fuckin’ compound is so goddamn loud.”

He laughs ’cause you’re just so goddamn cute and tells you sure, that’s fine. He’s expecting you to sit in the armchair, or anywhere not near where he’s laying back on his bed, reading old SHIELD files on a tablet. But you just walk right up to him and plop down on the bed, curling up into a tight ball cocooned in your blanket, pressed against his side. Without missing a beat, you reach up and grab his hand, pulling it down to your head as you open back up your book. “Play with my hair.”

He complies, but he mutters a “someone’s bossy” that makes you anxious that you’ve overstepped your boundaries. You look up, worried what you’ll find in Bucky’s eyes, only to see him smiling down at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

You fall asleep like that, and even though Bucky’s not the most comfortable — still wearing jeans, on top of his blankets, unable to move for fear of disturbing you — sleep catches up to him, too, and it’s the most rest he’s gotten in years.

When he wakes up, you’re gone, and while he’s a little relieved that means avoiding any awkward conversation, he’s kind of sad. As he gets up, though, he hears snippets of conversation floating through the door from the hall. It’s a ways away, but, you know. Super soldier hearing and all that.

“Look, it’s just really great that he’s opening up around you. He looks happier than…happier than I’ve seen him in seventy years. So I just wanted to make sure…just…just be careful, alright? He’s made so much progress since you’ve been here, I…”

“Steve, I get it. I’ve read the files, I know. I’m not going to tiptoe around him, though. But you know…you know what I’ve done. I know what it’s like to be treated like I’m fragile, and I won’t do that to him. I think he seems like a great guy, and that’s what I’m going to treat him like. He deserves to be treated like a person, not a ticking time bomb. I’m not going to go out of my way to hurt him, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not an asshole.”

Him. You and Steve were talking about him. He’s got a weird feeling in his gut, but there’s also a sense of relief flooding over him because you get it. You understand what he craves, what drew him to you in the first place. Normalcy.

“Okay. I’ll…I’ll trust you know what you’re talking about. It’s just…he really, really likes you, okay? So…”

He can almost hear the smirk in your voice. “I know.”

“And how do you feel about him?”

Your response is nonverbal, and the anxiety of wondering what that answer is kills him. Steve must be satisfied with whatever you replied as he moves on to talking about training schedules. Bucky stops listening. He falls back on his bed, trying to think of what to do with what he just heard. It’s not really much information. Steve’s worried, but when is he not? You made some vague comment about something you’d done, but he figures he doesn’t actually know you and your past that well, so it’s probably not a big deal. You know he likes you, but he figured that much because you’ve caught him making heart eyes on more than one occasion. He still doesn’t know if you feels the same.

But…you think he’s a great guy. You said that. And you treat him like any other person. You look at him like a normal person. It takes a moment for that to sink in. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s a goddamn monster and he deserves to be treated as such. But you…you treat him like a person. You’ve been through so goddamn much and you’re so, so kindhearted, so loving and caring and just…just amazing. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

Bucky cries for the first time in years that day.

There aren’t any more noteworthy incidents in the next month, but you’re still…well, you. Kind and funny and smart and beautiful and treating him like a person, and it’s killing him. It’s killing him because he almost feels normal until you’re gone and the guilt starts eating him away again. It’s killing him because fuck, he doesn’t know what love is, he’s never been in love with someone before, but…whatever he feels for you, it’s gotta be pretty goddamn close. It kills him because he knows the longer he lets this go on, the more likely it is that you’ll get hurt because of him, and he can’t live with himself if that happens.

It’s been a month since you fell asleep together and the team’s all together out on a mission. It’s a relatively big operation, breaking into and taking out a whole HYDRA base that’s managed to get a hold of some Chitari weaponry and try to mass produce it. He’s nervous, because it’s HYDRA, and while the trigger words have been removed, it’s still in the back of his head that there might be a failsafe stuck in his brain somewhere, they still might be able to get to him. But he’s more nervous about what could happen to you. He knows he shouldn’t be — you’re an Avenger for a reason — but the thought of anything happening to you churns his stomach.

Turns out neither of those things were worth worrying about because he just gets beat up, takes a bullet to the gut, passes out, and wakes up in goddamn agony back in the Quinjet’s cramped infirmary with you stitching up a cut on his right bicep.

“Wh—what happened?” he grunts out.

You glance up at him with a look he isn’t sure how to interpret. “Mission was a success. All hostiles eliminated and or turned over to the proper authorities, alien ray guns retrieved, no casualties except for you, and you’ll be fine as soon we can get you back to base and in Dr. Cho’s cradle.”

He starts to try and sit up, but you immediately push him back down. With your hands on his pecs, he finally realizes he’s shirtless, and suddenly he feels self-conscious. “Slow down there, soldier,” you tell him. “I said you’ll be fine. Not that you are fine. No moving.”

You go back to tending to his cut arm and he bites his lip, trying to hide the smile he’s wearing because you sound so worried about his wellbeing and if that doesn’t make his heart do a flip, nothing will. “Yes, ma’am.”

You haven’t smiled once since he woke up, and he’s about to ask what’s wrong when you speak. “Goddammit, Bucky,” you say quietly, looking away, “I thought…I just…I just saw you lying there in a pool of blood, completely unresponsive, and I…I thought…” You’re on the brink of tears. He’s never seen you cry before, he’s never seen you this upset. You never finish the thought.

He reaches his left hand over and takes one of your hands. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I’ve survived a hundred years of this shit. It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

You finally manage a smile as the tears threaten to spill. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, old man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.”

You’re there when he goes into the Cradle, there when he gets out. The second Dr. Cho walks out of the room, you pounce on him with the biggest hug he’s ever received. Your hands are desperately fisting the back of his shirt as you wrap your arms around him, your face buried in his chest.

“I thought you were gone,” you murmur.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m here. You got nothing to worry about, babygirl.” The pet name slips out before he can stop it and he instantly tenses up. You peel away from him and his thoughts race. Oh god, he just overstepped his boundaries, he just screwed it up, he made it all awkward, he—

Then you grab the front of his shirt in both hands, messy fists of cloth clenched tightly in your grip, and pull him down to you, and before he can even think about what’s happening you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, like there’s no damn tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure his heart rate is somewhere around 200. You kiss him until someone from out in the hall calls out for you, probably because you haven’t debriefed yet, and you slip out of the room with a breathless grin in his direction.

It’s supposed to be the fairy tale ending right now, right? But it’s Bucky. He doesn’t get fairy tale endings. He doesn’t get the girl. He doesn’t deserve it. The second you’re out of his sight, the reality of the situation comes crashing down on him. He doesn’t deserve you, and if he lets this continue, it’ll end in nothing but pain for you. He can’t let that happen. He has to — no, he can’t just avoid you. You deserve more than that. He’ll talk to you, tell you his lame spiel with his lame excuses. You probably won’t understand, but you don’t need to. It’ll hurt, for both of you, but it’ll hurt a lot less than what he’s capable of doing to you.

He doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but around midnight, he sends you a text, hoping you’re still up.

Can we talk?

Your reply is almost instant. Of course. Want me to come to your room, or?

He pauses, chewing his lip as he debates. No. If he has to reject you, if he has to hurt you like this, he knows it’ll haunt him. His room will reek of the ghost of what could’ve been, and considering his room’s his only safe space, he’d rather not. Can you meet me on the roof?

Sure. Be there in ten.

He almost doesn’t hear you approach, you’re so quiet. He’s sitting on the edge of the roof, legs swinging over the edge, when you sit next to him. You’re barefoot, clad in nothing but sweatpants and a tank top tight enough that he immediately notices you’re not wearing a bra. Well, this is distracting. “What’s up?” you ask.

“Aren’t you cold?”

You snap your fingers, and a small flame appears hovering above the tip of your pointer finger. You juggle the flame across your fingertips for a moment before closing your hand, extinguishing it. “I’m never cold,” you say with a shrug. It still unnerves him that superpowers are a real thing that exist, and he hasn’t even tried to wrap his head around what Inhumans are.

He doesn’t know where to start, so he just launches into it. “Look, we both know…I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry, but I can’t…I can’t be with you. I’m a goddamn monster. You know it. Maybe I didn’t kill all those people, whatever, but I didn’t stop it. I was fucking powerless to stop the people I care about getting hurt. And I can’t…I can’t let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with myself. You deserve so much better. I’m sorry.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “You’ve read my files, right?”

“Yeah.” He glances over at you, confused, but you’re just staring down, playing with a small flame.

“Whole family killed in a freak accident right after I got exposed to the Mists and got my powers. What luck, right? Except…it wasn’t a freak accident. Well,” you say with a sad chuckle, “I mean, it was a freak, and it was an accident, but…” You look him in the eye, and he sees an ocean of sadness deep enough to drown in. “I killed them, Buck. I killed them. I got in a fight with my dad. I hadn’t told any of them about the powers yet. I just…” You look back down, letting the flame consume your entire hand. “I wanted to scare him. I just wanted to scare him. But I couldn’t control it. I exploded. I literally fucking exploded. And bam, there’s the whole house wiped off the map. And my family…gone. Nothing but brittle bones and ash and the metal plate my dad had in his shoulder left.” You extinguish the flame and look back up at him. “You think it’s your fault people got killed, Buck? Think it’s your fault that HYDRA, the world’s most powerful organization, with the most brilliant twisted minds and all the resources they could want at their disposal, could overpower you? It’s not. Even Steve, goodness and strength personified, couldn’t have resisted that. But me…I killed them with my own goddamn hands because I couldn’t even stop myself. You think…you think you break everything you touch, but Bucky…you have no idea.”

He’s speechless. How does he respond to that revelation? The two of you sit there in silence for a long moment before he looks at you and realizes you’re holding back tears, your chin quivering as you blink rapidly. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even hesitate as he pulls you up into his lap, and that’s when your dam breaks. Your whole body is wracked with sobs as you cry into his chest, sitting sideways on his lap, clutching his shirt as tight as possible. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist while the other strokes your hair gently. Neither of you say anything. No words are needed.

You sit like that for a long time, crying into his shirt as he plays with your hair and eventually starts to whisper reassurances. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, babygirl.

He doesn’t know how long it is before you stop crying, but finally, you pull back. “I think…I know deep down, that it’s not my fault I didn’t know how to control my powers. And I think you know deep down you’re not responsible for anything that was done to you. And I think…I think maybe we can help each other finally believe that.”

Bucky’s never been good at relationships, but maybe that’s because he never really knew what a relationship was. He thinks he gets it now. It’s not all the fancy romance. It’s just two people helping each other be the best person they can be. And maybe, just maybe, he can be good at that.

[hartleykeiner]

Hiiii could you one where Betty and jughead are friends with benefits (not sex, but at least they kiss and act like a couple but aren't) and neither wants to confess their feelings so they play games with each other (teasing, flirting, jealousy, etc.)? Thank you :)

notes: this idea is pretty different from the usual stuff i write (i usually love angsting everything up haha) so yay for new things and nay for i’ve never written anything like this so pardon any, y’know, potential cringe (also yikes this was longer than i expected, which is why i added the ‘keep reading’ after the first extract). also since these two aren’t together i assume this is vaguely au.

.

.

Here’s the thing:

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you’ve always harbored something—be it fondness, the feeling that you’ve encountered a kindred spirit, genuine appreciation, or perhaps simply a juvenile schoolboy crush, whatever so, just something—for her. However you have long made your peace with the fact that a relationship with the merry cheerleader that oversteps the boundaries of platonic waters may never come into fruition.

Here’s the other thing:

You never considered the possibility that long nights spent in the confines of the Blue and Gold offices would eventually lead to moments otherwise few and far in between—endless cups of coffee, the conversation switching from the contents of Wednesday’s chicken pot pie to your familial woes (to which she offers a sympathetic smile and tales of her own Cooper-based troubles)—could open doorways to a very different change in your dynamic with the blonde girl.

Till, well.

Perhaps you could blame it on caffeine-induced vision leading to impaired judgment, or the fact that all common sense tends to fly out the window once the clock strikes past midnight, but it’s dark and the only source of light is the luminescence from your laptop and she’s halfway through scribbling feverishly on her notebook when she looks up and meets your gaze. Her ponytail is loose, there are flinging sunshine tendrils framing her face.

“Hey,” she says, prodding your sleeve as she leans closer. A curtain of blonde hair falls against her cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… great.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, you don’t look great.”

“You always do.”

The words leave your mouth before you realize and, when you do, you inhale a sharp take of breath and she clucks her tongue before her face blossoms to a darker shade of crimson as she retreats from your gaze. And your heartbeat soars.

So you kiss her.

And she hooks her arms around your neck.

Which leads you to develop a new-found appreciation for the school staff’s blatant lack of after-school supervision.

.

.

It’s a simple concept, really—no strings attached.

That’s what you two agree on.

Never mind that if you learned anything from the plethora of ‘chick flicks’ (as Archie likes to call it) that the Cooper girl herself made you watch with her throughout the years, it was that assuming mainly platonic relations with several non-platonic benefits isn’t the ideal way to sustain a promising friendship.

In fact, it seems to be the quickest way to end it.

Not that either of you are particularly bent on listening to reason at this point.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve always been the voice of reason, and so has she, so swimming in shark-filled territories does spark something you wish to salvage, above all.

“Really,” she tells you, gathering her self-made pie-charts as she displays the evidence on the acorn-colored table. “This way, we can have—”

“Some ounce of normalcy in the midst of all the chaos.”

“Yeah,” she responds. Pauses. “Also, we don’t need to worry our friends with this.. arrangement.”

“Although Archie could certainly use some songwriting inspiration,” you state, which incurs a half-smile from the blonde.

So that’s what the two of you settle for—stolen kisses in the shadows after football games, quiet nights over takeaways while editing the Blue and Gold (which soon becomes your favorite pastime), brief brushing of hands when you’re around company (stealth is the key, you quickly learn), and high-pitched “we’re just friends!” whenever anyone dares to suggest otherwise.

A good system, if you do say so yourself.

That is, until—

“My cousin Vince is in town for the weekend,” the Lodge girl declares. “He’s visiting from New York and he wants to hang out on Friday, but Reggie and I already have plans. Which I have no intention of cancelling. So long story short, Betty are you free Friday night? After the game, that is.”

So she pauses, clearly stumbled. “You mean like a blind date?”

“A double date,” clarifies Veronica. “And blind on your part, yes.”

Therein lies the silent killer.

“Come on, Betts,” insists the raven-haired girl. “The only thing you ever seem to do nowadays is spend your very valuable time cooped up editing the school newspaper after hours, might I add.” When her remark is met with silence, Veronica sighs deeply and turns to you. “Holden Caulfield, some help?”

You focus on your bag of chips, “The Blue and Gold needs all the help it can get.”

She raises not one, but two groomed eyebrows. “Well,” she eventually says, crossing her arms slowly. “Suit yourselves.”

.

.

“Does it worry you that our arrangement includes, and often requires, us lying to our friends?”

“Very much, so.”

“Are we not seeing other people?”

“Maybe not for the time being.”

“But we’re not together.”

“No, no we’re not.”

“But we’re still sneaking around?”

“Well we are hiding from our friends in the janitor’s closet so yes, yes we are.”

“So,” you gesture to the little space between the two of you, tapping rhythmically on her arm. “That’s that.”

She nods, leaning in. “That’s that.”

. 

.

You wonder if this is what hell feels like.

Kevin brings peaches to lunch and distributes it at the table, clearly unaware that you’re notoriously allergic to the brightly-colored fruit. Which you don’t initially mind; it was simply an honest mistake made by the Keller boy. You spend your time enjoying your bag of chips, instead.

That is, until, the Cooper girl arrives and quickly indulges in the supply, starkly reminding you of one grave fact.

Betty loved peaches.

It always seemed like she was mocking you whenever she would eat them in your presence, but today the fact rang clear as bluebells. She sat across you at the table and placed the bowl right between the two of you.

And she chose to sport red lipstick that day.

Go figure.

So while the others spend their fleeting minutes of freedom animatedly discussing the contents of a certain television show that aired the day before (and you’re thankful for the shift in attention), she raises an eyebrow at you and smirks as she continues nibbling.

You sigh deeply.

She’s taunting you, really—for many reasons, you figure, the top being because you can’t really do anything about it. The newly peach-ified aura reeks of saccharinity. Then she takes another bite.

“You okay, Jug?” she asks, voice coated with merriment (and she’s not even trying to hide her amusement, at this point). 

“Just peachy,” you blankly state, to which she replies with a bright grin.

So when the bell rings and everyone promptly retreats to class, you snake your hand into hers and lead her to the supply closet because, damn it, you need to kiss her and if rash breakouts were the price to pay then so be it.

And so it was, when you excuse yourself from Biology class to visit the nurse (which you were twenty minutes late for, anyway).

.

.

You don’t quite know how you ended up here, trying your best not to seethe on the bleachers during halftime.

You can speculate, however.

Perhaps it has everything to do with the golden-haired girl donned in navy cheer, and your lack of emotional restraint, who is all bright-eyed and buoyant as she stops to glance in your direction and raise a neat eyebrow. Which is Betty Cooper speak for this is a challenge, (and after half a decade of being in her life, you are now fully aware of the hidden mischievous nature that juxtaposes her otherwise candy-coated exterior). So you narrow your eyes which is your speak for I’m above and beyond this—this, you’re betting, she already knows. Which is probably why she responds by turning and redirecting her attention to the raven-haired Lodge boy once more. You momentarily wonder whether football games or pretty cheerleaders were Vince’s forte and when he links his fingers with Betty’s in one swift, fluid motion you swallow the lump in your throat and redirect your attention to the luminous screen when you feel two dainty fingers tap your shoulder.

“Working hard?” presumes Ethel, gesturing to your laptop. “Of course you’d be reading during halftime.” Her smile broadens. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” is your response and she promptly sits down, glancing over your shoulder.

“The Beautiful and the Damned?” she remarks. “I always did peg you as an F. Scott Fitzgerald fan.”

You continue observing the situation and watching it unfold; Betty’s doing that thing where she half-smiles while she tilts her head to the left and lets her damp ponytail swing in the air and it always works damn it (on you, anyways) and apparently Vince too because he grins once he takes her cue and leans in further. “If anything, I’m the Damned,” you deadpan, which incurs a laugh from Ethel.

“I think you may be luckier than you realize.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I have a hunch.”

You feel a pair of eyes on you, so when you turn to the football field, you meet the Cooper girl’s marine gaze. Which leads you to turn back to Ethel, who only half-smirks, and this spurs something akin to a power shift in the atmosphere and you, dare you say it, relish it.

“Wanna add fuel to the fire?” she adds, a playful glint glimmering in her eye.

“What do you mean?”

Without warning, Ethel leans in and captures your lips in a quick kiss. It stuns you, defers you and leaves you frozen for a good split second, but you manage to gather your thoughts and break apart from her when you do. She’s undeterred, however, and simply responds with a small smile.

“I think that did the trick,” she remarks, as Betty retreats from the football field in what appears to be a quick hurry. You pack your things and go after her.

.

.

“I should have known you’d find me here,” she deadpans, when you open the door to the Blue and Gold office. “First place you’d look.”

“You were always the worst at Hide and Seek parties during middle school,” you state lamely, closing the door as you walk in. “Sometimes I wonder if you simply wanted to be found.” She doesn’t respond to this, which tells you that you’ve struck a chord. With a deep breath, you begin. “Betty—”

"I saw you with Ethel."

"Well, I saw you with Vince."

And so a silence ensues between the two of you. Regardless, one thing overwhelming fact is clear—the both of you are on even playing fields, the waters are equally turbulant, yet neither of you feel like you've won anything in particular. So you sigh and gulp before you turn around and cross your arms.

"Clearly," you say. "This isn't working."

“So does this mean you want to end whatever this,” she gestures between the two of you, “is.”

“No.” Then, you step towards her. “I don’t want this to end. What happened out there, I, well, frankly I don’t quite understand it myself.”

She nods slowly. “I don’t really understand what’s been happening, either.” She looks up to meet your gaze. “Guess the only thing I really know is that I don’t want to stop spending time with you, I don’t want to date Veronica’s cousin,” you pause to laugh and so does she. “I don’t want to keep this a secret, either. Whatever it is.”

And so you follow her lead, walking towards her. “I don’t know what it is that we have, but maybe we can figure it out. Together.”

This makes her smile. It reaches the tip of her marine eyes and she bites her lower lip to restrain it, slowly linking her fingers with yours. “I like the sound of that.”

And so you brush a golden strand from the corner of her face, and she embeds her lips onto yours. 

It feels like coming home.

.

.

“We’re together.” 

These are the words Betty utters, her hand intertwined with yours, on the couch within the confines of the student lounge. You nod concurrently. Every so often, she turns to meet your gaze, so you tighten your grip on her hand as you turn to face your group of friends.

This proclamation is met with stone-cold glances from Archie, Veronica and Kevin.

“We know,” they state in unison. 

“How,” you begin, frazzled. “How did you—”

“Choosing to spend your Friday night with Broody over here instead of a fun night out with a fellow Lodge?” deadpans Veronica, her bright almond gaze locked with Betty’s marine ones. “I put the pieces together pretty quickly.”

“Then your peach show added to our already-heavy suspicions,” adds Kevin, half-chuckling. “Also I figured it out by Jug’s allergic reaction and the both of your uncharacteristic tardiness that followed soon after.”

“And next time, you might wanna lower the blinds in the Blue and Gold office and janitor closets,” finishes Archie, voice blank. “They’re there for a reason, y’know.”

“We did inquire the help of Ethel to knock some sense into you two,” states the Lodge girl, smilingly. “I think she did a pretty good job.”

“Excuse—”

“She always had a thing for you, so getting her on board was relatively easy.”

“Well,” is all you say, which is all you can say really, as you take in the newly-distributed information. The Cooper girl follows suit, clearly stunned as she leans over to take a slow swing of her coffee. You draw out a long breath and turn to face your friends once again. You quietly wonder if your friends were involved in other intense, intricate conspiracies.

“We’re not mad,” clarifies Veronica, voice gentle. “We just want to know if you’re happy. Are you?”

And so, you turn to face the blonde beside you, who is already looking back at you with a tentative smile. And so you return it, slowly but surely.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re happy.”

“With all the strings attached,” she adds.

And it is enough.

.

.

[scrambledthoughtz]

all i wanted to do was study, but all i got was a confirmation that i should not be studying with other people. i thought i needed other people around me to help me study, but if i really do need other people around me to help me study, then i’m not studying correctly. and yeah, turns out i should really be studying alone but i never fucking learn my lesson. every single damn time.

so my friend texted me yesterday morning because he was neck-deep in a depressive episode and she had had a panic attack the night before because of her upcoming midterms. (hence my earlier post, i should never be bothering other people with my issues especially when the shit’s hitting the fan for them). but here’s the thing, i offered her support and i listened and i gave her encouragement and of course i didn’t expect anything back. she’s one of my best friends and i would literally drop everything to help her.

but ok, then flash forward to yesterday evening. i wasn’t even planning on meeting up with her to study initially bc i knew that she would be really stressed and probably not in the right mind and i just didn’t want to absorb that bc i had things of my own that i needed to get done and i didn’t want any distractions. that sounds really selfish and it makes me sound self-absorbed, right? well, whenever i worry about that, i just tell myself that it’s not wrong to put myself first. and that’s true. but the thing is, i went anyways (not only bc i was getting distracted at home), but also bc i knew that she wasn’t doing too well and i thought she might appreciate some company and if she at any point needed to talk about anything, i would be there for her. just in case. 

ok but here comes the part that made me really angry. we were okay in maybe the first hour-ish, we were just doing our own thing and studying. but then she brings up the therapy. now i know i know i need to get a therapist and literally nothing that she tells me isn’t something that i already know. but especially yesterday, i felt like i was fucking attacked (not to over-exaggerate). but the thing is, every single thing that she said was right and i know that she’s doing it out of her best interests and bc she’s concerned for me and i know that she’s just trying to challenge my irrational thoughts. anyways i was just so freaking pissed and she knew that i was pissed at her but it was the kind of thing that’s like, “you can be as pissed and annoyed as you want at me, but you know i’m right.” and yeah fucking bingo she’s right about everything. she’s the one who talked to me so many times about putting up boundaries and not letting other people’s issues get in the way of your life, yet she seems to be really fucking invested in my life for someone who’s working on putting up those boundaries. to some extent, i feel like she’s using the fact that i don’t have a therapist as an avoidance tactic to not think about what she’s going through, and that’s really not fair. she was just projecting onto me what she needs to work on and i think that’s what hurt me the most.

anyways, after that, i let her eat dinner at my house bc aren’t i just the fucking giving tree at this point. and here’s another thing: whenever she’s studying, she studies aloud. like she voices her thoughts aloud. i know i shouldn’t even be annoyed at this bc it’s probably just the way she studies best and honestly, this is just something that can be easily fixed by not studying as much with her anymore. now that i know that that’s how she studies, i don’t have to tell her to stop because i can just take control and make the decision not to study with her when i know i have things that i need to focus on. bc honestly it’s just really distracting but whatever. 

anyways she’s eating dinner at my house and i just offhandly remark, “i wonder why little kids are so opposed to eating broccoli.” and she’s like, “i read in o-chem that they’re drawn to things that are sweeter in taste” and she starts talking about the fucking structures of sugars. like we’re fucking eating, you don’t need to bring up your studies in every single scenario. we get it, you have a wide breadth of knowledge about science. 

so after that, long story short, i called up my friend and ranted to her for about an hour and our phone call was a total of two hours and a half and honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened. i swear to god, bless my friend’s soul for listening to me, it really meant a lot and i felt so much better after that. 

after i get off the phone with my friend, i find that my other friend has apologized to me, and honestly, i don’t know how i feel about that. i’m appreciative that she realizes that she overstepped her boundaries, but also, i feel kind of bad ??? like she obviously picked up on the fact that i was pretty angry at her, but she’s going through things of her own and she honestly shouldn’t be concerning herself with the fact that i’m annoyed at her. jesus christ lmao. 

shit’s fucking complicated.