#i think they were less serious in this verse

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 2

Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words

WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.

From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.

Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.

One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.

For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.

Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.

His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.

Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.

The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.

Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.

Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.

He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.

But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.

Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”

“Is she impressed?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.

“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”

Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”

It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.

His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ding.

*

Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.

He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”

“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.

“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.

“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.

He shook his head. “Stings a little.”

“Will you be sore tomorrow?”

“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.

“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”

“Can never have too much luck.”

She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.

But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.

Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”

She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”

He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”

“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”

“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.

“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.

He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”

“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”

His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.

Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.

“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”

“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.

But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.

*

She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.

Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.

Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.

But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.

However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.

“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.

Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.

It was two months ago.

But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.

That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.

“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.

Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.

But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).

“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.

She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.

She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.

Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.

She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.

Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”

“Any fun plans for tonight?”

She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.

“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.

She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”

“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.

Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.

*

The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).

The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.

The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.

“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.

“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.

“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.

“Have fun!” She called back.

“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”

“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.

She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”

*

She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.

I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.

:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(

She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.

No.

The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.

She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.

He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.

She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.

She never wanted to date again.

*

She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.

There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.

Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.

Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.

Thinking of me at midnight, hmm?  😉

She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...

Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁

Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.

Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.

She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.

Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.

Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇

Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.

Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?

You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.

Sneaky... 👀

Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...

The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.

I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.

I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍

She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.

About you 😍

Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.

Oh?

I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.

Oh, no.

No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤

Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.

But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.

Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.

Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍

*

The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).

While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.

It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.

She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.

God, she missed her dad.

Fuck, she missed Harry.

She never wanted to feel that helpless again.

With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.

*

The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.

It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.

When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”

She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”

“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.

“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.

She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.

While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.

The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.

“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.

“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.

He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.

“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.

She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.

Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.

“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[etheries1015]

Hellooo 1st I just wanna say that I love how you write! The fics you post almost always puts a smile on my face when I’m stressed and I just wanna thank you for that <3

Anyways I’ve been accidentally rizzing my friends up lately on accident with sweet words and I ended up thinking what would the biggest tsundere (literally) in twst do with an s/o who’s very generous with compliments and poetic with words and is shameless with how cheesy they can sound sometimes

I’m so sorry if my request is too vague huhu, have a good day! <3

THHAANNKK YOU *SMOOCHES* *GNAWS ON UR LEG* I LOVE U and may happier and less stressful times come ahead for you!

although you didn't specify which character...I picked who I believe to be the top three tsudneres of the game. Heuheuehu.

The prefects muse~

In which you find yourself utterly bemused by him, throwing out compliments and lines of infatuation that leave him a flustered wreck. How does he react to someone as valiantly passionate as you regarding your sweet words of honey?

Featuring: Idia, Riddle, Azul

Idia

Idia convinced himself you were just another introverted loser who had no care in your mind for other people, keeping to yourself, enjoying video games, and always open for degernate hours of playing video games.

what he did NOT know he was signing himself up for, was some sort of weird poet club bullshit. Yet there he was, sitting on the couch of the ramshackle dorm playing away at the new console he had gifted you he could feel your gaze burning the back of his head. Turning around slowly and almost with dread, your shit-eating grin blinded him with words of sweet-sweet cringe.

"Watching you play video games you can truly see how serious you are, it's adorable," Idia groaned with cheeks burning a bright shade of pink, burrying himself into the couch, "Ah~ I wish you would look at me like that, with such passion..."

"ugh..whhyy..." Idia murmured embarrassingly avoiding your gaze and remaining strong in holding himself together at your routine daily compliments.

"I can't help it!" You cried out theatrically, "Idiiaa...I can be like a video game. Play me, too!" That comment broke something inside of him that was supposed to be stayed hidden, his blue hair changing a bright shade of pink to signify the extent of his flustered state. You only giggled at this, as Idia attempted to hold in all self control by taking his hoodie, hoping the couch would just take him then and there.

Over time he became used to the fact that you would openly flirt with him, although that never stopped the second hand embarrassment that came along with it. What he wont tell you, though, that behind the rosey cheeks and tsundere display of dislike for your antics, was a heart that beat quickly and mind that secretly enjoyed your poetic and "old cringy" way of loving him.

Which just means your flirting is working, keep it up! <3 But maybe try to hold back in front of other people, he isn't sure how much more he can keep deflecting their raised eyebrows and teasing remarks...

riddle

Being someone who is well versed in the world of poetry and literature, he could often pin point where some of your lines may come from. His way of deflection is either correcting your sentences, or retorting with the next line. What he DOESN'T know how to deflect, is the string of compliments you give him on a day to day basis. At first he simply thought you were being kind in complimenting the way his hair shone in the sunlight- until Cater pointed out that your remarks were anything but the norm. That's when Riddle took more notice to it, realizing that your lines of poetry was not an exercise of the brain, yet an actual technique to flirt with him.

and it was working.

"Riddle~" You sang in the halls of heartslabyul, skipping much to his annoyance.

"Do not jump around in the halls," He chastised you, "What is it?" You gave him a mischievous smile with a toothy grin to match, clearing your throat and standing straight.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite."

Silence reigned for a few moments as Riddle blinked a few times, squinting his eyes to give you his typical "poker face."

"Is this another one of your attempts to 'flirt' with me?" He asked, you leaning against the wall and running your fingers through your hair in a flirty and playful manner. You nodded eagerly, to which Riddle gave a sigh and walked past you to continue whatever he was doing prior to your poetic interruption. Your jaw slacked open and you skipped (again, to his annoyance) to catch up to him.

"I swear I saw a smile! Turn around and show it to me, Riddle! Was that one good? Did I capture your heart finally?" You giggled, seeing how Riddle was obviously ignoring your feeble cries of searching attention.

Yet you were correct, he couldn't help but find his cheeks as red as a rose and lips curling up in a bashful smile. He would not allow you to see how you affect him, however.

Riddle tends to just ignore your flirting, now that he has come accustomed to it. Even in front of people when you would openly compliment him, Riddle continued sipping his tea seemingly unbothered. Whenever he would get strange looks to find an explanation to your questionable behavior, he simply shrugged.

"Do not mind them, they are always like this."

But at night by his lonesome, he was repeating your words in his head a million times over, that same rose colored tint upon his cheeks and smile with a blanket hard on his grip. Perhaps giggling a time or two to himself...for he never met someone as brazen as you. Not that he was actually complaining, though.

Azul

Flirting with Azul was always a treat. His reactions were the most flamboyant out of the other tsundere boys, he never failed to get some sort of remark and complaint out of his mouth whenever you sang praises his way. He attempted to be calm and collected, but the blush that painted his cheeks betrayed his cool demeanor.

"Is that a new coat, Azul? Ohohoh you do look dashing, If I do say so myself. Did you style your hair? The way it frames your face really brings out your features-"

"Stop, stop stop! Why must you feel the need to shower me in complimets?!" He cried out, burying his face into his arms upon the deak. The pink on his ears was also unforgiving for the poor merman. You chuckled and sat next to him, patting his shouders.

"I can't help it! If I see something I like, I must voice it out. Is it too plain? I can try and be more poetic. Let's see..." You used your hand to pull his chin, forcing his gaze to meet with yours. You inwardly teased him at the vibrant hue of his cheeks and flustered face, keeping it in as you leaned forward to gaze deeply into his eyes.

"Your eyes," you started, "Shine far brighter than any I have seen, even the most silver and sparkly of diamonds pale in comparison to your-"

"e-e-enough! W-what is this?!" Azul pulled away, tucking his head back into his arms and groaning, "Just...go back to what you were doing before! None of this...diamond...and..." He trailed off, words failing him. Azul was not used to such praises from others, he spent his entire life believing the worst every moment he caught glance in a mirror with a life time of self esteem issues. So hearing you so openly compliment him always left the man flustered and blushing, cringing at every moment you tried to stroke his ego.

He never truly get's used to it, only finds ways to ignore you. When you're around others and began to make a sly comment about how his hands look nice or how his skin looks that particular day, he closes his eyes and avoids anyone's gazes with a face full of color that even the coral of the sea could not compare. He often gets teased by his fellow classmates for this, but never actually speaks up in distaste to you. He could never admit just how much your persistent compliments thoroughly means to him, and how with every word he finds himself looking in the mirror with a little more enthusiasm than he once had.

~~~

yes I like to use the headcannon that Idias hair changes color when he has really strong emotions aosdjflkasdjf

[shayyprasad]

would you love me if i were a worm? | peter parker

summary: you ask peter a very, very serious question.

warnings: nothing! (reader goes by rose sometimes... like a pet-name?)

pairing: frat!peter x bimbo reader

word count: 0.7k+ words

a/n: i honestly had so much fun writing intellectual, i wanted to add more to this little bimbo!verse! this trend feels like such a cute, bimbo-y thing, so i put it on here! (in no way is use of "bimbo" meant to be a patriarchal stereotype. please do not take it offensively, this is a work of fiction.)

M.LIST | RULES/REQUESTING | ABOUT ME

you're scrolling through your instagram reels, trying to pass your time. you're snuggled against peter - he's nice and warm - and lazily draped against him.

his arm has lost feeling at this point, but he couldn't care less, he's totally happy with it. being close to and loved by you is the best thing he could ever ask for. peter's lost a lot in his life, but you'll never be one of them.

he has his head laying on top of yours, tapping away at his laptop. peter's been busy with spider-man, to the point where the essay that is due tomorrow completely slipped his mind. he's trying to multitask since he hasn't spent that much time with you lately.

he's struggling, typing with one hand, but it's worth it.

you swipe to the next video using your freshly painted nails (they're a nice shade of pink, topped with a glitter coat). what's playing is a girl talking to her boyfriend; you can't hear the audio, but there a subtitles. the girl poises a very important question:

what would he do if she were a worm? would he love her still?

which leads you to think, what would peter do if you were a worm?

would he still love you?

or would he give you away? throw you into the dirt? would he step on you?

you gasp at the thought, and peter turns to look at you. "you good?" he doesn't look nor sound especially concerned, but the look in his eyes gives it away.

"petey?" you ask, eyes wide and wet.

"yeah, rose?"

"would you still love me if i were a worm?"

he's about to burst into laughter, he really is, but with one more look at you, he realizes that's not a great idea. the way you're looking up at him, expectant and weary, almost like you're afraid of his answer has him rubbing your shoulder, a chuckle slipping out.

if it's even possible, your eyes widen more. "you wouldn't?" eyes glossed over, lips pouted, he wishes he could take that stupid little chuckle back. he doesn't like the way you're tearing up, even if it's for a reason like this.

peter doesn't get fazed by much, he's spider-man, but watching you cry is number one on his list.

peter thinks it a silly question; he'd love you if you were a damn rock.

you're so gorgeous like this (not the crying), he can't help but think. with your hair in soft curls, satin hugging your figure. the curve of your lashes, how you blink up at him.

god, he's so happy he's with you.

"of course i would," peter says quickly, realizing he's been quiet a moment too long.

"really?"

"yeah," by the look on your face, it's not enough. "uh, i'd love you still."

"you'd carry me around with you?"

"sure. i'd figure out how to give you a cute pink bow, we could tie it around your waist- er... around you. and buy you a little dollhouse, you could use the rooms."

peter's committed now, and your eyes aren't welling with tears anymore.

"can it be a, like, pink dollhouse?" you ask, softly, voice moist from tears.

"with glitter," he adds, "and if we can't find a nice enough one for you, that's absolutely perfect... i'll make you one myself."

"oh my god, really?"

"anything for my favorite lady. in fact, i'd get you the finest food too. top notch- top notch whatever-it-is-that-worms-eat food."

peter's so glad none of his frat brothers are seeing this, he would've died of mortification. but here, in this room, where it's just the two of you - peter doesn't have a care in the world.

"and, y'know what? i think i'd even find you a pink little louis-v bag. that's right, my rose." he's spewing facts right now, he'd do all this. well, maybe not the bag. the two dollars in his bank account might not work out great with that.

but you don't have to know that part, it's fine.

"i'd read your, uh- fashion magazines and stuff to you. show you the pictures and everything," he loves the smile you have on right now.

"you'd be the most beautiful worm there is," he finishes.

"awww. i'd love you if i was a worm too," you say, nuzzling your nose against his.

"i've got no doubt, rose."

it's not all a lie though, hypothetical or not. he's made a promise to never leave your side, worm or not.

taglist: @whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r @idli-dosa @susvale @kdbsr-h @littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod

[namichanth]

Can we cupping please?

Coffeeverse 👈 if you want to know about this verse, you can find it here.

Tim is a Cup who really needs a lot of caffeine. He feels sleepy and tired all the time, even though he drinks his coffee. (by mixing it with Redbull and Monster) Which his family has banned it from him.

So Tim determines to find a Coffee who can cupping with him without telling his family(Most of them are Cup like him). He still has a lot of cases to find information about, and he doesn't want to fall asleep on the Batcomputer.

That's why he was now walking on the sidewalk, sniffing through the air for the Coffee.

Until he smelled the most fragrant coffee in his life. He followed the scent until he saw a man who looked like he hadn't slept in many days.

He hurriedly walks up to the man before grabbing his shoulder and say in serious voice.

"Can I cupping with you?!"

——————————

Danny didn't know what to say.

He was walking and saw some man smelling the people(which he found it's a little creepy), before he made eye contact with Danny and walked up to him.

He thought this man was gonna pick fight with him, until he asked Danny if he wanted to cupping with him.

This man was wearing a hat, glasses, and a mask. His clothes were completely covered. How can he not think that this man is some thief?

Still, he has to answer his question first.

"Can we find somewhere to talk about it?"

They found a cafe to sit, and Danny knows this man's name now. His name is Tim.

"So why do you want to cupping with me?"

"I want to find someone who can cupping with me. Cause I feel sleepy all the time."

As Tim talked, his eyes were about to close every moment, which Danny wasn't surprised.

Danny wishes he could feel a bit as sleepy as Tim. He hadn't gotten to sleep yet, because of the too much caffeine in his body.

Speak of, he can cupping with Tim right now. Tim wants caffeine, and he wants less caffeine in his body.

"You can cupping with me."

"Really?!!" Danny nodded. Tim thanks him before asking to hold his hand.

Then they had an indescribable feeling when their hands touched. Danny started to feel sleepy, which put him in a good mood. Danny had never cupping with anyone and felt this comfortable before.

For Tim, he didn't know how to describe this, but it is the best coffee he has ever tasted. Even though he had held other Coffee's hands, it didn't taste like Danny's.

They held hands for a moment before letting go. The flavor still lingered on Tim's fingertips. It made him want to hold Danny's hand longer.

And something came to their mind after cupping together. They had never felt this way with anyone before. Which mean...

"Are we..."

"I think we are blends"

"..../...."

They hadn't said anything until Tim broke the silence.

"So...do you want to go to my place? Like hang out after this?"

"Yeah, but i want some sleep first. Can I go sleep at your place?"

"Sure. While you're sleeping, I can do my work."

"Deal." "Deal."

"Lead the way, Tim."

P.S. Can Tim feel like he is more active than before? If the caffeine from Danny has some of ectoplasm?

[just-jordie-things]

[part ten] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 4.2k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part ten] : “Cursed Tool”

It was fair to say that (y/n) had severely abandoned her training.  She still practiced here and there, but it was few and far between, and it certainly wasn’t on her list of priorities.  She hadn’t really noticed this.

Her friends, the over-involved spies they were, were completely aware.

Satoru bothered her endlessly about practicing with her cursed technique more, once she seemed to be in a better headspace, anyways.  He’d trail after her once classes were done, pester her to go out for a training session, he even playfully suggested a game of teleport tag.  (y/n) had been blowing him off for weeks.

Shoko brought it up a few times, casually, unlike the white haired man who’d never known the meaning of the word.  (y/n) brushed her off too, but she’d never seemed too bothered to be asked about it.  Shoko was easier to distract with a cigarette and a coffee.

Even Suguru, who (y/n) noticed seemed to be around less and less, still found the time to scold her for not keeping up with her training.  Just like the others, she let the comments slide.

(y/n) figured for some time now that she’d find the time to practice once things with Megumi settled down.  She had too much work to do to properly focus on his cursed energy, and help him grow into it, that the prospect of developing her own was out of the question.  Once Megumi understood his growing power and was able to protect himself with it, then she could help herself.

Foolishly, she hadn’t thought about the consequences of this choice, and (y/n) didn’t realize just how quickly her time was running out.  That was until Yaga asked her to stay behind in class one Thursday afternoon.

Shoko gave her a wave with the promise of meeting up to study later.  ‘Study’ of course meaning a smoke break where they could catch up and talk about anything but classes.  

Satoru followed her out without a word, but his eyes hung on (y/n) for a moment too long.  She furrowed her brows at him, as though to ask him ‘what?’.

He turns away and follows Shoko into the hall.

(y/n) approaches her teacher’s desk, a kind smile as she asks him what he needed her for.

“Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?” Yaga folds his hand over his desk, and (y/n) nods curtly.  “Fact is, it’s been a while since you’ve taken an assignment, and I’ve been trying to select the right one to hand of to you, and now I’ve found one that I think would be perfect for your re-entry into the field”

For a second, (y/n’s) frozen, and she swears that her heart has stopped beating in her chest.  Her face is expressionless, and her hands are still, curled around the edge of Yaga’s desk.  Once his words really settle into her mind, her grip tightens on the stained wood.

“Sensei, with all due respect I don’t think I’m-”

“You’re perfectly ready,” Yaga tells her before she could finish.  “These last few weeks have been hard on you.  You’ve gone through more than anyone your age should.  But it’s time,” He pauses, carefully choosing his next words, “I know you’ve been working on maintaining your routine, and it’s time to allow your work as a sorcerer to settle back to your roots”

(y/n’s) relaxed, expressionless face was starting to feel itchy.  And hot.  Her eye twitched as she stared down at her teacher, who seemed to be dead serious, even though her first instinct was to laugh in his face.

“I really don’t think it’s the right time,” She spoke slowly, so as to keep her voice as even as she could.  “I still need time to process Yu- and- and I just have so much going on that I-”

“(y/n),” Yaga cut her off again.  “While I appreciate you being honest with me, this is already final,”

(y/n) watches closely as he leans back, opening a drawer, and producing a folder.  He tossed it onto the desk in front of her, nodding his head for her to take it.

(y/n) stared back at him, unmoving.

“It would be a quick assignment.  Just the weekend.  And you’d get to see Brazil” He adds that last part with a flashy smile, like she was supposed to be excited about travel.  

“I don’t need to see Brazil,” Her tone drops.  “I don’t want to see Brazil”

“Flight takes off Saturday morning,” Yaga states bluntly.  “You’ll get picked up at six”

(y/n’s) eyes narrow to a glare.

“I’m not going”

“You’re going.  It’s a Grade Two.  You should be able to tidy that up in, what, a couple hours?” He raised his palm, pretending to think it through.  “I let the elders know you’d need longer, since it’s your first time back on the field.  The rest of the time I’ve allotted is for you to relax once it’s done”

“Am I supposed to thank you?”

“(y/n)-”

“No, really, is that what you’re looking for? Now that I’m supposedly done grieving over the death of my friend, I should just get back to normal life? Huh? I should be grateful that I get to have a little vacation time in Brazil?”

Her voice was rising with every word until she barely even realized she was leaning over the desk and yelling right in her teacher’s face.  However Yaga barely looked fazed.  He simply pushed the folder closer to (y/n), staring at her with a hard expression in his eyes.

“I don’t need you to be grateful.  But if you still want to pursue a life in this field, then you need to be wise,” He tells her, his eyes never once moving from hers.  “You haven’t taken a proper assignment in months, (y/n).  I understand there are devastating circumstances, I understand what you’re going through.  But I can’t stick my neck out for you forever, (y/n)”

Hesitantly, (y/n) stepped back, her knuckles sore from how tightly she’d been gripping the desk.  Her hands relaxed at her sides.  Carefully, her eyes moved from the unopened folder, to her teacher.

It dawns on her now that she hadn’t taken a proper assignment in almost eight months now.  Maybe even longer if she took a second to think about it.

Had Yaga been covering for her this whole time? Her heart sinks at the thought.  All this time she’d blown it off, assuming that Satoru and Suguru were being handed any and every assignment that came up.

Now she realizes she’s been in the wrong this whole time.  She’d been avoiding her training, and she hadn’t thought much at all about taking on missions, not when Megumi and Tsumiki still needed her like they do.

But now, looking at it with a fresh set of eyes, she wasn’t sure she could get out of this one.

(y/n) sighs, reaching for the folder with reluctance.

“Saturday at six?” She mutters.

Yaga grins.

“That’s the spirit” He tells her.

Without another word, he stands from his desk and leaves the classroom.  (y/n) glares down at the paper folder in her hands, before following him out.  

She’s stopped before she can take off towards her dorm.

“An assignment, huh?”

“Satoru, you creep up on me so much, I’m almost used to it”

The white haired sorcerer beams, crossing his arms as he slid in front of her path before she could walk away.  Despite her annoyance, (y/n) stays put in front of him.

“I’ll have to find something else to keep you interested in me, huh?” He chuckles.

(y/n) only blinks in response.

“So, Brazil,” Satoru changes the subject.  “Sounds like a fun time”

“Do you always eavesdrop on conversations that don’t involve you?” (y/n) muses.

“Well how else will I get involved?” He replies easily.  “You didn’t sound all too excited.  What was that about?” He tilted his head to the side, but somehow, he was still peeking out over the top of his sunglasses.

“I don’t love picking up and leaving suddenly.  Sue me,” (y/n) rolls her eyes.  

It wasn’t a total lie, she did like more than a day’s notice for long-distance missions like this one.  But the other factors in her distaste were a bit more pressing.  

“Did you really listen in on the most boring conversation because of that?” She asks him, trying to brush past the subject.  “What, are you jealous that they gave it to me and not you?”

Maybe deflecting could work, she decides.

(y/n) shoves the folder into his chest, and he doesn’t stumble at the harsh action, but she finds it curious that his infinity was down, and she was actually able to smack it against him.

“Well here,” She spits out, “You go if you want it so-”

“I don’t care about some lame-ass Second Grade Curse,” Satoru scoffs, throwing the folder back into her hands instantly.  “So which is it? Do you want to retire? Walk out like Nanamin?  Like you haven’t spent the last ten years of your life working towards assignments like this?”

(y/n) visibly bristles at the mention of their former underclassman.  Satoru notices, and it fuels his own annoyance enough that he asks the question that was really on his mind.

“Or are you just so wrapped up in something else that you’re trying to get out of it?”

(y/n’s) brows are drawn low as she glares up at him now.  The playful, meaningless attitude she’d given him before long gone, now replaced with the real thing.

“Kento didn’t just walk out,” She told him, her hands gripping the folder a little tighter than she needed to.  “His partner, his friend, died, and he did what he had to in order to keep his head”

“(y/n), I didn’t mean it like-”

“And I’m not walking out,” She cut him off.  “Just cause I don’t want to take on some stupid mission-!”

“Then what is it!?”

Satoru is yelling before he can calm himself down long enough not to, but (y/n) was raising her voice too and he knew if he couldn’t get her to listen he’d have to keep her attention somehow.

“What is it that you’re letting hold you back, huh?” He lowers his volume, but the bitterness in his voice is still present.  “What could be so much more fucking important than some in-n-out mission that the old you could get done before day’s end, huh? What the hell is it, (y/n)?”

The frown on her lips is twitching, begging to turn into a scowl.  What little patience is left inside of (y/n) is fighting for it’s life not to be cruel to the man in front of her.  

But she could only keep her composure for so long.

“It’s none of your business, Gojo” She mutters.

The use of his surname was the final straw.  Satoru was done with this game of tiptoeing and joking around.  He was over the secrets and blatant lies.  And most of all, he was over (y/n) pretending like she didn’t matter to him, like he shouldn’t even care about it at all.

“None of my business, huh?” He repeats with a scoff.

For a second, he looked away, shaking his head as he worked to ignore the way his throat felt hot.  Just as quickly as he had, he was recollecting himself and hardening his expression to hide any sort of vulnerability.

“Sometimes it feels like you make it my business, (y/l/n),” He spits her last name out with the same poison he’d been hit with from her.  “When you can’t take control of your own fucking cursed technique without my help,” He reminds her viciously.  “Or you can’t even sleep at night unless I’m there, what about that, huh?”

Her hands are curled around her folder so tight, her knuckles are white, and she’s crinkling the papers of her assignment.  She doesn’t care that her reports will look unprofessional now, because it’s the only thing keeping her from smacking Gojo Satoru across his smug, asshole face.  If she were a cartoon character, smoke would be coming out of her ears.

“Then don’t,” Her voice was low, but it betrayed her with a slight crack of emotion.  “I don’t need the Gojo Satoru protecting me like everyone else, I’m fine on my own.  And I’ll handle my shit, on my own”

Gojo’s snarling expression falters, and he blinks as he leans back from her a bit, trying to backtrack in his mind to the moment when he’d pushed her too hard.

From the first second, probably, he thinks to himself.  I fucked up instantly.

He sighs, and relaxes his tense muscles before he tries for an apology.

“Look, (y/n)-”

“No, just-”

(y/n) cuts him off, but quickly shakes her head, not knowing the right thing to say to keep him from pressing once and for all.  She swallows thickly to clear her burning throat, trying to come to terms with what she was about to say.  When her eyes land on his sunglasses again, she hopes they don’t betray her with their wetness.

“Just leave me alone, Satoru,” She tells him, and now his forename sounds evil coming from her, too.  “Just fuck off wherever you go when you’re not bothering me.  Anyone else will bend over backwards on a whim for whatever the fuck you need, so go bother them.  Anyone else.  Because I don’t need you,”

It’s harsh.  It’s beyond harsh, it’s cruel.  Probably one of the cruelest things she’s ever said to anyone, but she knows this is exactly what he needs to hear if she’s going to push him away and keep him away.

He’s still standing there, not a single muscle on his body moving.  She can’t see his eyes from behind his shades, but she assumes they must be blank as he stares at her.  She wishes he would just teleport away.

Her chest feels hollow.  And her throat feels tight.

“I don’t need you to help me with my technique, I don’t need you to help me sleep, and I don’t need you to nitpick every little thing I do every second of the day,”

She’s losing breath, but she knows if she allows herself to collect the oxygen she needs, her chest will heave to steal it, and she’ll lose her false composure.  Realizing this, she delivers her final blow.  

“I.  Don’t.  Need.  You”

(y/n) blinks strategically to make sure not a single drop of the wetness in her eyes could fall.

Her fingers begin to tremble.

Satoru’s silence lasts for a few seconds longer, as does his eerie stillness, but finally, his expression cracks, and he scoffs quietly.

“Fine,” His voice is quiet, but there’s a finality to it that lets her know she was successful in her heartbreaking scheme.  “If that’s what you want, then fine,” He continues, before leaning over to meet her at eye level.

He doesn’t need his Six Eyes to know that she’s on the verge of tears, that whether she meant what she said or not, it was hurting her just as much as she was trying to hurt him.  Nonetheless, this was her choice, and if that’s what she wanted, he’d give it to her.  

Satoru had known for some time that he would do anything she asked of him.  If she couldn’t sleep at night without him, then he’d lay in her bed with her, wide awake from dusk till dawn.  If she needed a training partner, a friend to talk to, a book, lunch, money, his soul- Satoru would find a way.  Of course, he knew what this implied- this desire of his to provide any little thing she wished- he knew that it meant his heart was no longer his to claim.

Knowing this, knowing he’d do anything she asked and now she was asking him to go away, hurt more than any nasty words she could throw at him.  Seeing the gloss of tears in her eyes as he told her he’d follow this command made him feel like his body had been split in two.  Every instinct told him to tell her no, tell her I’m staying, whether you need my help or not.

Or what’s worse to admit, I’m staying, because I’m the one who needs you.

There’s a child, deep inside of his subconscious, who’s crying.  He’s wailing loud enough for Satoru to hear.  He’s deeply lonely, and desperate to be loved, and he’s begging for him not to let his next words come out of his mouth.

Satoru doesn’t listen.

“But I’m done with this stupid game of yours, (y/n),” He tells her, and the low voice he speaks in sounds angrier than any holler, yell, or scream ever could.  “So don’t come fucking crying to me about it later”

When she blinks, he can see a tear catch on her eyelash.  His heart wilts like a sunflower under the clouds.

“Trust me.  I won’t” She tells him with certainty.

A brief moment later and Satoru’s standing straight, and walking away from her.  He has nowhere to be, and he’s not walking in any specific direction to go somewhere besides that wherever he’s headed, it’s away from her.

(y/n) stays put in the corridor for a few minutes longer, frozen, clutching her wrinkled folder of an assignment to her chest and staring at an insignificant spot on the floor for a period of time she couldn’t really keep track of.

She’s not sure how long it was since Gojo had left, but when she’s finally sure he’s far enough away, she breaks. ___

“I have something for you,”

Megumi’s eyes light up with a gleam that only a child receiving a gift could display.

“It’s not that exciting,” (y/n) tells him sheepishly, before reaching into the pocket of her jacket.  “But it is important, and I need you to promise me that you’re going to hold onto it”

His brows are furrowed with uncertainty, but Megumi nods adamantly.

“Okay.  Promise”

(y/n) produces the small token, a thin rope with a small stone on it.  Megumi’s confusion only deepens at the odd gift.

“A necklace with a rock?” He asks as she carefully drops it in his hands.  He studies it closely, as if there was some secret to why this was a special present that he now promised he would keep.

When he doesn’t find anything unique, he gives her a blank stare.  (y/n) chuckles quietly.  

“It is” She agrees with his blunt observation, and picks it back up from his hands, and holds it open so that she could slide it over his head.  The little stone sits on his chest, and Megumi picks it up again to inspect once more.

“Why is this important?” He asks, narrowing his eyes in case there was a tiny detail he was missing.

“Because I laced it with cursed energy,” (y/n) explains.  “My cursed energy,”

The young boy stares up at her, still lost.

“You know how I told you that students studying to become Jujutsu Sorcerers have to go on missions to take care of curses?” She reminds him.  He nods.  “Well… I’ve been asked to go on one of those missions”

“Oh,” Megumi mumbles, his gaze falling to the floor.  “Do they take a long time?”

“Not a long time, no,” (y/n) shakes her head.  “But I won’t be here this weekend.  I leave on Saturday”

“Oh” Megumi says again, quieter.

“But,” (y/n) continues, craning her neck so that she could meet his gaze, “I will be here as soon as I’m finished, alright?”

He nods in a short, small motion.

“I’ve left your sister with a little extra spending money, so you guys can order pizza, or go to the bookstore, or rent a movie- whatever you want to do,” She tells him.  “I hope you can understand”

“I understand,” Megumi says.  “Curses are bad, you have to kill them”

“Exorcize,” (y/n) corrects with a small laugh at his choice of words.  “But you’re right, I do have to.  It’s my duty,” She says.  “And someday it can be yours too, if you want”

Megumi nods, his stare falling to his hands, studying them.  His bedroom is quiet for a bit as he thinks to himself, and (y/n) gives him the space to process everything she’d just told him.  It’s not long before he speaks again.

“So what’s so important about this necklace?”

“You remember my cursed technique?” (y/n) asks.

“... Hexing Eye?” Megumi answers, a bit unsure, but she beams back at him.

“That’s right,” She praises.  “Well, the downside of it is that it’s effects only last a day.  So if I were to hex you,” She raises her fingers to her forehead as if to use her technique.  “It would wear off by this time tomorrow”

“But you hexed the necklace?” Megumi asked, trying to fill in the blanks.

(y/n’s) smiling again, proud that he was able to catch onto jujutsu semantics so quickly, especially with only her minimal efforts as a teacher.

“Sure did,” She says.  “Think of it more as… preserved… in the necklace, if that’s easier,” Megumi nods in understanding.  “So when the stone is broken, the hex is released,” (y/n) makes a flashy gesture with her hands, mimicking an explosion.  “And that will pretty much summon me.  I’ll know to come to you, right away”

“Why can’t we just call you?” Megumi asks, that know-it-all tone in his voice that a parent would find annoying, but (y/n) found endearing.

“Of course you can call me,” She chuckles.  “But this,” She pointed to the stone that sat against his chest.  “This is for emergencies… dangerous emergencies, okay?”

She didn’t want to scare him, but she needed him to know just how important this cursed tool was, and exactly the situation he needed to use it in.

“Okay” Megumi repeats back to her, his azure eyes focused, and sure of what she meant.

“So… so if you find yourself… in a scary situation, or if either one of you are hurt…” (y/n) trails off, her eyes flickering between his to make sure she wasn’t being too grave.  “All you have to do is break that little rock,” She pushes the stone against his body again.  “And I’ll be there.  Do you understand?” He nods back at her.  “I’ll be there in a second.  So if you promise to use it if you ever find yourself in an emergency, I promise to be there right away.  Deal?”

Megumi gives her a small smile as he nods again, holding the stone protectively in his hand.

“Deal,” He agrees.  “I won’t take it off”

(y/n) smiles back at him, feeling much more at ease about her weekend trip to Brazil now that she had a Plan B for the Fushiguro kids.  

They won’t even need it, she tells herself.  But now I know they’ll be safe no matter what.

“Alright kid, it’s very late, and little kids need a good night’s rest” She says, lifting the covers for him to climb under.

“I’m not a little kid” Megumi grumbles, already back to his usual pouty demeanor.

(y/n) chuckles as he slides under the blankets and lets her tuck him in anyways.  Yeah, right, she thinks, but doesn’t say anything besides her usual goodnights and goodbyes.

Her walk home was bittersweet.  She’d accomplished everything she’d needed to today, all at a great cost.  Imbuing that necklace with her cursed energy had taken a toll on her strength, tiring her out for the rest of her day, enough that she was dragging her feet along the sidewalk.

Pushing away Satoru once and for all had taken a similar toll, as well.  But it presented itself differently.  It weighed on her shoulders, and clawed itself into her chest and settled there in a hollow, energy-draining feeling.  

She recognized it as guilt, but there was something else there that had been nagging at her mind since their fight earlier that day.  Something that made her feel like crying- even though she had already vented out all her tears before visiting the Fushiguro house.

She pondered on the sour, painful feeling on her late walk, even though giving it any attention made her chest hurt, and her eyes brim with tears.

Oh, it dawned on her once she’d finally reached her empty dorm.  She collapsed into bed without having changed into more appropriate clothes to sleep in.

The sheets reeked of warm sugar and pine.

Tonight was the first night since Haibara Yu had died that (y/n) would spend alone in her bed.

It was heartbreak. ___

a/n: i just love writing things that make me cry and i hope it makes u cry too >:’)

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru @kamikokii​ @nerdiel-has-no-braincells​ @googlesheetshoe​ @vzleria​

xoxo ~ jordie </3

[suashii]

୨♡୧ UMBRELLA — suna x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by sage ( deactivated :'( ) for my rin round up event!

the one day you forget to stuff your umbrella into the side of your backpack, it rains.

not a light drizzle that would be mildly annoying at most, but the kind of rainfall that you can hear pelting against the windows—the kind that you definitely don’t want to walk home in.

you let out a huff at seeing the time. it’s later than you should be leaving and you can’t help but think that maybe you would have missed the rain if you had left an hour earlier like you normally do on any other weekday. there’s no telling how long it’ll be before it lets up, so, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck in this building until the weather clears up enough for you to make a run for it.

instead of making every minute feel painstakingly longer by watching puddles form on the sidewalk beyond the door, you turn on your heel with the intention of killing time by watching something on your phone. though, before you can make it to one of the many tables, your path is blocked by a broad body. when you look up, you’re met with unmistakable grayish-yellow eyes. 

“so the rumors are true,” suna starts, eyeing you up and down before meeting your gaze once more with a playful smirk. “you’re bound to this school and can’t ever leave.”

in all the time you’ve known suna, you don’t think you’ve heard one serious thing come out of his mouth. you can’t be sure if it’s just you or if he’s always so flippant. you roll your eyes, shaking your head at his dumb statement. “it’s raining and i don’t want to get wet.”

suna raises his eyebrows. “no umbrella? i thought you were always prepared.”

there he goes again, taunting you like it’s a game. it’s been this way since high school and back then you’d respond to his jokes with jabs of your own. it’s never bothered you a great deal but right now, all you want is to go home and suna reminding you that you can’t serves as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“don’t you have anything better to do than stand here and make fun of my oversight?” you look past him, eyes scanning the lobby for a suitable spot to spend who knows how long.

something about your tone makes suna’s grin fade. it’s not jesting like usual and he’s afraid that the hint of exhaustion he hears in your words has to do with him. joking around with you is much less fun when you aren’t in on it—especially if his teasing has truly struck a nerve.

suna would never consider himself to be well-versed in kind gestures, but he thinks that he might have some way to make up for overstepping.

“i guess i could walk you home,” he offers. there’s a glint of doubt in your eyes as you stare at him. he isn’t sure if it’s because the suggestion is strange coming from him or if you think he’s no better suited to brave the weather than you are. suna can’t do much about that first one, but to prove that he can in fact get you home dry, he pulls out the umbrella from the mesh holding of his backpack and holds it up beside him. “i have an umbrella.”

part of you feels like a fifteen minute walk with suna—someone you would barely consider a friend—is bound to be at least a little bit awkward but a larger part of you is willing to put up with that if it means you can finally get off this campus. “fine. but only because i really want to get home.”

“of course.” suna nods. he steps past you to push open the heavy door, pressing the button to extend the umbrella. the waterproof canopy shields his dark hair from the rain and he jerks his head to the side in a silent gesture for you to follow him.

you do, careful to step close enough so that you’re also under the umbrella but not so close that you’re bumping shoulders with him. “it’s this way,” you point in the direction of your apartment building.

suna nods again and sets off, pacing his steps so that they’re in line with yours. other than the rain hitting the canopy and the sound of your footsteps, it’s silent. you cross your arms and shy away from the edge of the umbrella where water is dripping. it brings you a little closer to suna but the warmth emanating from him is preferable to the sleeve of your sweater getting soaked.

“so,” suna’s smooth voice cuts through the silence, “what were you doing at the sports center?”

you can’t stop your head from turning to look at him, though, his gaze is still focused ahead. seems like that point you made earlier suna never having anything serious to say no longer stands. you’re sure he’s trying to ward off the awkward air surrounding the two of you. you’re sure he’s just trying to be nice, that he doesn’t really care what you were up to, but you answer him anyway. “oh, i was interviewing for a job at the front desk.”

suna’s lips part as he readies to respond with one of his usual quips—something like being able to bother you more often if you get the position—but he quickly presses them closed. he’ll end up running you away if he keeps at it so frequently and that’s the last thing he wants. even though it may not seem like it, suna likes having you around. he likes it a lot.

so he settles for, “that’s cool.”

“the description actually sounds pretty boring.” sitting behind a desk, answering calls, and constantly being around student athletes isn’t exactly your idea of fun but working on campus is convenient and you need the money so you’re hoping for a call back with good news.

“i don’t know,” suna starts, finally turning his gaze to you. there’s a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes. “watching atsumu flirt and fumble is pretty entertaining. it’s like a neverending show.”

the mental image of atsumu flaunting his position as the volleyball team’s setter in an attempt to impress a crowd and maybe walk away with someone’s number makes you chuckle. “okay, that does sound kinda funny.”

your laugh catches suna a bit off guard but aside from his initial surprise, he finds it pretty. sure, he’s heard it plenty of times in passing before, though, never this close. and he’s never been the reason behind your laugh. it’s probably a little silly, but he thinks it sounds even sweeter when he’s the one who caused it.

the rest of your walk is highlighted by natural conversation; questions from you about volleyball and questions from suna about your extracurriculars. it’s uneventful and utterly normal and the exact opposite of what you would expect from suna. although, you don’t dislike it. in fact, you think you could get used to it.

time passes a lot faster in suna’s company and before you know it, you’re standing outside your building. it’s quiet again as suna holds the umbrella over you while you enter your pin to unlock the main door. an automated click sounds through the air and you pull on the handle so it doesn’t lock again. awkwardly, you turn to face suna. “thanks… for walking with me. and sharing your umbrella.”

he dramatically gasps, pressing his free hand to his chest in yet another show of theatrics. “was that a thank you i heard?”

suna is almost sure he’s taken it too far again before you smile.

“don’t get used to it,” you tell him as you step into the dry lobby of your building. before the door closes, you raise your hand in a wave. “bye, suna.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[peachesofteal]

Hi! I reread On a Slow Night, and at the beginning, darling and Johnny had an argument, I was wondering if the guys and darling had any other fights? If they did, what were they about and how serious were they? How often do arguments happen between them? How fast (or long) does it take for arguments to get resolved and how do they usually make up? Do they think that those arguments and the resolutions of those fights make their relationship stronger? Or do they feel the opposite? How do they individually feel or think about any fights they have?

Sorry if that's too many questions, I just love reading your thoughts about those three 😅

Hi! I'm always happy to talk about these three, and I expanded on some of your questions below, sort of. I don't want to elaborate on it too much or too specifically because in the upcoming arc of the story... a lot of the flashbacks are more tenuous times of the relationship (take that for what you will) and I don't want to spoil anything. 🖤

They fight. It would be impossible not to. There are too many variables regarding their relationship for it to not happen.

Johnny and Darling fight more quickly, easily, than any other combination. Sometimes they misunderstand one another, or someone takes something to heart, or someone is out of patience and snaps. They rub against each really explosively sometimes, and things can just... catch fire like that, you know? Johnny and Simon fight the least, because they're so just in sync, in tune, and spend so much of their time together. They also spend so much time in very stressful situations, so it puts a lot of things in perspective. Petty bullshit matters less, because even if Simon gets irritated with Johnny over something he did or said, or vice verse, is it life or death? Is it worth speaking to your partner in anger, knowing it may the last words he ever hears? No. Simon and Darling's fights are probably the worst. They have more of a dom/sub relationship, more so than Simon and Johnny or Johnny and Darling, that the arguments cut deep. Those fights seriously wound Darling, and they hurt everyone in the house, not just those two, because Johnny always feel caught in the middle. Darling may be a bit of a mess, but she's not past pushing and prodding and being stubborn (as we know) when she wants to be.

They all stand staunchly on the side of 'what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger' and they believe that of their arguments too. They try to never, ever go to bed angry with one another, always working to resolve whatever is going on the best they can. They're all able to move on, together. Even when communication isn't at it's best, they really do try to make sure they get it all out, if that makes sense.

Obviously, we know everything isn't perfect. If it was, Chapter 1 would have never happened and we wouldn't have a story. But the outright fights are not what has gotten us here in the first place, I think that's important to note.

They all have a fight, that sticks out in their mind. That haunts them. Simon's is coming up in Chapter 11ish? In a flashback. And then Johnny and Darling's are both after that.

Also I will add that the marriage debacle when Darling left the flat and Simon screamed FUCK in the flat, that was pretty bad. Rare occasion where he fought with Johnny.

Thank you so much for this question! I love any opportunity to talk about my characters like this, and I hope even those this was pretty vague, it helps answer some of your Qs!

[ghostlythunderbird]

Can we get some more Omega-Verse HC with König and his mate?

maybe how they first met? Idk, I just really crave some more omega verse stuff with him.

love your work! <3

Omegaverse ~ König and how he met his mate

OMG wow my first ever ask! Ngl this has inspired me to write one for each of the boys, but Anon this one is for you! Hope you and everyone enjoy and once again a special thanks to @l-lend and @kelpiesummer for throwing ideas at me XD.

Now both your and Konig’s first meeting is the farthest thing from perfect, and remember when I said you literally barged into his life? I was being serious.

Now I’m just gonna say that you're secretly an Omega, but in order to get higher paying and government related jobs (cause that’s where the money is at) you cannot be anything less than a Beta. To safeguard your identity you have both high end scent patches and pill suppressants.

And after making sure no one could tell what your true second gender was, you applied to become a part of a Rut Retrieval Team. Your assigned member? The Austrian Apex known as König. But what you didn’t know about this supposedly dangerous second gender, was that even the least sensitive apex could still pick up on what you were even with patches and suppressants.

Now your team are the only people who can handle him after he’s coming down after a rut, primarily because many think he would be extremely dangerous. So after being dispatched somewhere in Spain, your team finally finds him while he’s still both coming off his rut and the excessive amounts of adrenaline. He was showing signs that he didn’t really want the team there but made no moves to act.

But when someone reached for him, he grabbed the much smaller beta male and practically threw him before attempting to pummel the poor guy. And in order to protect your teammate, you barrel into the apex and attempt to wrap your arms around his neck to make him stop. One main way to calm down an apex would be with a heavily scented pad that had an omegas heat scent doused into it. But before you could apply it, he grabbed your wrist and pressed his nose to your covered scent gland instead before quickly letting go.

The scent that washed over him was much stronger than could have ever been on the cloth, but once he realized there was a scent patch there he dropped your wrist like it practically burned him. You both didn’t move after that but your gazes were locked almost like a trance.

Thankfully your team didn’t catch this interaction between the two of you, as they were more focused on the beta on the ground. But once they see how he’s decently calm, they begin moving him to evac to get him back to the KorTac base. Your team didn’t desire to be anywhere near him after his earlier display so you end up being voluntold to secure him while your team is on security outside the helicopter.

König hadn’t said anything during the duration of his retrieval, he was completely silent but all he did was just keep a watchful gaze as you strapped him in. His gaze wasn’t broken until you had brought that dreaded muzzle into his view, he zeroed in on it and without a single thought he had asked “Your an Omega aren’t you?”. To König it was more of a shot in the dark, and wasn't fully expecting you to answer him.

It wasn’t until he had looked up and froze, your eyes were wide from under your mask; the fear was evident. Your grip on the muzzle tightened and the instinctive urge to get away from him was starting to take over. But before you could fully take a step back he had moved, yanking the muzzle from your grasp and had tightened it before you could blink. He had practically shrunk in on himself and made no move to look at you, even though it had no change on his height or mass for someone of his massive size. The poor guy didn’t want to scare you, and make him seem like the monster so many make him out to be.

It was odd to say the least. You had been told that Apexes were demanding and took whatever they wanted whenever. But this odd apex has only become more interesting to you in just a short amount of time. It wasn’t until he had looked in your direction and muttered a “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me, Ich verspreche es dir~.” That you had decided to try and get to know this enigma of a man much better. And you definitely never looked back after that chance encounter.

Translation : “Ich verspreche es dir” - I promise you (sorry if this is wrong, I’m using google translate because I’m an uneducated American XD)

Taglist: @l-lend, @kelpiesummer, @fatedeniedhope, @grizzersmamma

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

you mentioned a horse with arranged!verse reader, is that something she pursues again with her new freedom?

It was a private tour of a stable- one that the owner of the track was more than happy to give. Angling for Bruce to buy one of the horses, probably.

"You used to ride, didn't you Mrs. Wayne?" the stable owner asked.

"Yes," you answer smiling, "It used to give my mother fits. She was afraid I'd break my neck." That was almost true. She said after you came in second place she wished you'd broken your neck.

"I remember that," Bruce hummed. "You had an Arabian didn't you?"

"Her name was Moonlight," you tell him, face heating. It was a silly name. But- in your defense you were 8.

"Adorable," the stable owner said, "I bet you were a good little horsewoman."

"I was alright," you say modestly. "Too many other hobbies and lessons I think."

Bruce put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed, "That sounds about right," he teased, tilting your chin up to steal a kiss. "Always busy."

"If I'm busy I'm out of trouble," you pout.

"But my credit card isn't," he said mock scolding. He didn't care what you spent. You could indulge whatever hobby with as many expensive paints as your little heart desired.

"You told me I could," you pout.

"Biggest mistake of my life," he told the stable owner, winking. "She's got good taste. And good taste is expensive."

"Well," the stable owner said grinning, "I don't have Arabians but I do have some beautiful horses- I'm sure Mrs. Wayne could find one-"

"Oh no I couldn't," you interject, "It's been so long I-"

"Come on sweetie," Bruce cajoled. "You used to love riding."

"I don't know." You bite your lip and try not to look at any of the horses too closely. It had broken your heart when they took Moonlight away. They hadn't even let you say good bye. You can feel tears and Bruce squeezing you a little closer. Prompting you to get less serious. And you smile, "I think we'll have to discuss it."

"Sensible," the stable owner said, clearly a little disappointed. "But tell you what. You call me when you figure it out. I'll help you find the perfect horse for the little lady. And when she gets addicted and has to have a stable full I'll come run it."

He laughed, Bruce laughed, and you swatted at your husband modestly. Trying not to let on that you felt like an idiot still being upset about something that happened when you were so little.

[thesiltverses]

If The Silt Verses was adapted into visual media, what medium or style do you think would best fit the atmosphere and the story? I ask because, while trying to fall asleep, I was struck by the deep desire to know how the team behind Scavengers Reign would animate TSV (and the subsequent grief of knowing that I will never find out!)

Méabh de Brún actually just sent us a Scavengers Reign rec so we started watching last night and god, it's gorgeous. Just an absolute work of confounding, horrifying, humane art.

As for our show, I don't know, really! Animation is expensive so I imagine live-action is a faintly more realistic prospect to consider. Here in the UK, we tend to be incredibly cautious and grounded about what gets commissioned for TV in any case - my impression is that weird or cross-genre stuff often only really gets a look-in if it's coming from a Reece Shearsmith-alike 'safe pair of hands' - so I doubt it'd ever get a serious look-in even if we Knew People (we do not Know People).

An indie comic-book could be gorgeous but then if we were working with a really talented artist, wouldn't it be more fun to come up with something new instead?

When I do think about adaptations of The Silt Verses, it's probably less about the medium and style and more about what we could do with a visual component - how much extra worldbuilding could be implied rather than stated outright.

I have the image in my head of Carpenter and Faulkner driving out across the countryside - and in the fields behind them is some bizarre, uncanny dancing ritual taking place around a vast inhuman figure, a wicker-man or a statue. At the end, the dancers turn and flee into the woods, and the statue gets up and follows them. C&F never stop talking.

Just finding space for these little eerie vignettes that you'd have to spell out in audio but can be more playful with in a visual medium.

[cod-dump]

hi! I feel a little bit bad for asking since you JUST posted "Time" (the monster handler AU), but would you mind giving any HCs/details about the verse? Like (if you need ideas):

assuming the insectoid is Roach, what're his abilities?

what is demon!Ghost's personality?

what eras are Soap & Gaz originally from?

what event led to Price summoning Ghost?

also: the moment I read that Nik was some kind of lycan, the term "bear" came to mind 😅 anyway, I always love your drabbles/ficlets! It's like getting a new episode of my favorite show! Have a great weekend...oh & what kind of monster would YOU want to be?

I don’t mind at all! I have been wanting to talk about it :)

———

Roach is indeed an insectoid! His face is mostly human but he still covers up to hide it from everyone. He doesn’t think he’s ugly or anything (some have described his face “moth-like” with ant antenna) he just had too many run-ins with people who are deathly afraid of bugs.

• He has regenerative abilities (if he loses an arm it will grow back the next time he molts). But if more serious damage is done to something like his head or chest, he won’t be able to recover from that.

• Roach has venom (it paralyzes whoever he bites but if he injects too much it can cause lasting damage to their nerves). Roach has accidentally made someone permanently lose all feeling and function in everything below their waist. Now he’s very careful when using his venom.

• He can stay underwater up to twenty-four hours before he needs to get air (this is helpful since he isn’t a very good swimmer)

• Roach is pretty strong. Not fifty times his own body weight strong but more like twenty (he has picked up a couple teammates and ran because they were in danger and the assholes weren’t listening to him).

• Roach loves sweets. He’ll eat anything without complaint (he’s eaten rotten carcasses before) but sweets are his absolute favorite.

• And, last of all, Roach can communicate and control some insects or creepy crawlies! He’s like the ultimate bug queen (don’t call him that). Flies, ants, roaches— They all listen to him. Bugs also tend to stick around him (he attracts them).

-

Ghost more or less the same. Though everyone questions if he genuinely cares about his team and the people he works with or if it’s just a ploy. He mostly sticks around Price (for obvious reasons) but he does venture out on his own (no one knows what he does). He’s good at hiding that he’s a demon and people tend to only find out when someone tells them. Ghost never likes revealing what he is to people unless the absolutely have to know (it causes distrust and that isn’t good for missions).

-

Soap is much older than Gaz and follows the old vampire laws. Cannot enter a privately owned building without verbal permission, contact with sunlight is almost always lethal, can’t tolerate garlic, can’t eat human food without projectile vomiting— all the things people know vampires for. His much older bloodline is the cause for him having to follow these strict laws (and he’s miserable because of it). Soap was turned against his will centuries ago in Scotland around 1300 (where he was born) by a woman that was supposed to be his bride. He’s long cut contact with her, not agreeing with her idea of changing him so they could be together forever.

Gaz is much, much younger than Soap. He was born shortly after WWII ended in England and was turned around 1963. He says he was turned unwillingly by vampire who he would later kill. This act should have cured him of his vampirism but he remained a vampire (it is uncertain why). Because of Gaz’s bloodline, he doesn’t have to follow the old vampire laws (sometimes he does so in a mocking/teasing way).

-

Price summoned Ghost years ago after his captain was brutally tortured and murdered by an organization that would later be revealed to be lead by Vladimir Makarov, a descendant of what people believe to be Dracula himself (though Dracula is more or less a over hyped vampire that many agree wasn’t the strongest or even a well liked vampire).

Price knew that he, as a simple human, wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against Makarov so he made a spur of the moment decision to find a way to fight him. One dug up corpse and ritual later (which resulted in the Zaragoza Drug Cartel in being massacred), Price would summon a demon that he would later name Ghost. This all happened before he met Laswell or Nik, of course.

If he had something in his life worth keeping, someone to care for or look out for him, he wouldn’t have sold his soul. But he was young, upset over his captain’s death, and he wanted to do something about it. Dwelling on it won’t change anything, so Price has just accepted that Ghost will someday eat his soul.

Until then, they have work to do.

-

Yes, Nik is a bear-like lycan. He has blond fur with dark roots which led to Price nicknaming him ‘Blondie’. Considering Nik’s human form has black hair, no one gets why Price calls him that (until they see Nik turn, that is).

-

Dragon. Dragon anything, really. Fucking love dragons omg-

[bp-zb1fics]

hi! i read your yujin post and i LOVED IT and it kinda inspired this idea/request

male reader and ricky have been close friends for a long time. reader was always the sociable one who dotes on ricky all the time while ricky was always quiet and more intimidating one. one time reader gets sick and expects to take care of himself but to his surprise ricky comes over to take care of him (maybe because ricky was always in love with male reader?🫢)

you can adjust or even skip this one if you want😅

Tall & Handsome & will take care of you~

pairing: ricky x reader

genre: highschool au (same verse as shy, shy, shy fic), fluff, romantic tropes

tw/tags: long time friends meet again, banter, yunseo cameo, slightly jealous lovelicky, swearing, kisses, dog mafia as protect yujin’s eyes squad, sickness (not serious), hand massages, squishmallow gift, ricky is taller than you for plot purposes

wc: 1905

summary: you’ve known ricky for a long time but he still manages to surprise you.

a/n hi anon! thanks for requesting this, i really had fun with the ricky/reader dynamic and since you loved the yujin request so much, it only made sense for me to set it in the same universe. For those who read shy, shy, shy~ I left a little easter egg that will definitely tie up to the part two of that fic that was requested by another lovely anon so keep an eye out for it!

Check my pinned for more fics~

part 2

As the class vice president, you were tasked to assist Park Gunwook, your class president, in greeting and orienting the new students. When the teacher ushered them in, the first one you saw was a tall, unfairly attractive brunette boy. You and Gunwook exchanged glances. How the fuck could someone be that good-looking? 

The first new student who introduced himself as Kim Gyuvin also looked vaguely terrified of Gunwook who decided to spend the summer bulking up. Discreetly, you rolled your eyes. Sooner or later, he’ll find out that the intimidating impression was a front and Gunwook was nothing but a big baby that whined at you to get out of class president duties he disliked. 

Your attention is directed to the other new student who walks in, blond hair expertly parted, silver necklace and earrings gleaming. He’s also tall, unfairly attractive and worst of all, you knew that face.

“Ricky?” You sputtered out.

You’ve known each other since he was a scrawny kid with a mouth full of braces. While you kept in contact when he had moved overseas, he never mentioned anything about moving back and more importantly, transferring to your school.

The teacher, Gunwook and Gyuvin all freeze as you throw your arms around your long-time friend. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, you little shit?” You hissed into his ear while you tried to squeeze the life out of him with your hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“He’s an old friend.” You tell the teacher enthusiastically after you’ve released him and let him introduce himself to your dumbfounded companions. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

Only now, he’s tall, blond and stupidly handsome, you think. You really need to get yourself together. 

After getting over the shock of that is Ricky, you’re your usual bright, chipper class vice president self, showing him and Gyuvin where they’ll be sitting, what the class schedule is like and including little tips about each class. They draw quite a few stares, most likely for both being over 180 cm and looking like models. 

Still, you get through the day with Gyuvin being less afraid of Gunwook despite the latter’s uncomfortable staring which you’ll need to talk to him about later. Because no Gunwook, even if the new student looks like a damn prince, we don’t stare at him for that long. The class resident joker, Kum Junhyeon, seems to have taken a shine to Gyuvin which is good because he’s making friends but also bad for the chaos you see in your future.

Meanwhile, Ricky seems to be unbothered, settling in almost immediately. He looked so comfortable that you’d almost think he’s been in this class the whole time. You’re still most definitely ambushing him at lunch break. There’s going to be a lot of catching up to do.

__________________________________________

Three absolutely chaotic years later…

“Ricky!” You scold the blond while shoving another snack into Yujin’s hands. “Stop it, you’re scaring him.”

While his glaring dials down, it’s still obviously there and Yujin gulps before thanking you and hurrying back over to where his own class president is being doted on by Junhyeon, Gunwook and Gyuvin. You’ve taken to calling those three the dog mafia, their joint antics always go big but also a little clumsy.

Frowning, you walk over to Ricky who’s finally stopped glaring and swat him weakly.

“You scared away the baby. You know how excited I get whenever those three bring them over.”

Ricky has the audacity to look unfazed, reaching to take one of the snacks you’re holding.

“They were taking my snacks.” He stated simply.

“Excuse me mister, your snacks?”

“Yep.”

You give him a look and he stares back, shameless. Then a ridiculous thought pops into your head and you smack him playfully.

“Awwww, is little Lovelicky jealous?” You coo almost imitating the aegyo voice that Junhyeon likes to do.

“....Nope.” He answers without missing a beat. You pout, smacking him again.

“God, you’re no fun.”

You turn to the dog mafia and pause when you see that they’ve got their hands over Yujin and his friend’s eyes.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Gyuvin fires back.

“We’re protecting our children from the horrific sight of our cool ice president and class vice prince flirting.” Junhyeon chimes in, scrambling words as per usual.

You sigh and look at Gunwook for help. He shrugs.

The chaos you see in your future indeed.

__________________________________________

“Ah, excuse me.”

You look up from packing your things. Gunwook’s already stepped out, the latest student officer meeting having wrapped up. 

“Ah, Yunseo-ssi, what can I do for you?” You say, smiling at the other boy. 

Ji Yunseo is the vice president of one of the other classes in your year. He’s also unfailingly nice and never a pain to work with which you can’t say is true for some other officers. Along with Gunwook, he’s always been supportive of the ideas you propose.

“Wahh we’ve been working together for three years, don’t you think it’s about time we speak casually?” He says, playfully thumping your arm.

You stifle a giggle as you finish placing everything in your bag and return his banter. 

“Ah it’s because we’re colleagues, Yunseo-ssi, got to stay professional.”

Yunseo smiles at you, watching as you heave the bag over your shoulder.

“Let me carry that for you,” he offers.

You’re about to decline politely when the bag is lifted off your shoulders.

“I’ve got it.”

You turn just to see Ricky slinging the bag over his own shoulder like it weighs nothing. His expression is the usual impassive, almost holier-than-thou that he does particularly when Junhyeon and Gyuvin get up to their shenanigans.

“Ricky-ah, it’s okay, I can hold it.” You reach for the bag only for him to hold it out of your grasp. Huffing at him, you turn to Yunseo who’s smile seems a little less bright, eyes flicking between you and Ricky.

“What were you saying?” You ask him, still bright and chipper so not to dampen the mood like your best friend has.

“Ah nothing. I’ll see you at the next meeting.” The other boy says almost too politely before walking off.

You frown after him. “Weird.” You comment before turning back to the blond.

“I swear I can carry that by myself.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, give it here. Ya, stop holding it over my head like I can’t reach it.”

“...”

“Ugh, fine. God, you’re impossible.”

__________________________________________

In your defence, you didn’t think that a few late nights (a whole lot, more likely) would end up with you getting sick. Except you do. Get sick.

You wake up with your head pounding something fierce, your nose stuffy and an itchy throat. Picking up your phone, you send a quick text to Gunwook explaining your unfortunate situation. Making a mental note to check the cabinet for cold and flu medicine later, you pull the blanket over your head and pass the fuck out.

When you wake up again, someone’s running their fingers through your hair. Before you can make a guess, you smell his cologne, expensive yet comforting even with your stuffed up nose. With much effort, you slowly open your eyes to see a familiar blond head staring down on you with an oddly soft expression.

“...time is it?” You slur, almost missing the hand in your hair as he lifts it up to check his watch. Apparently you’ve slept almost the whole day away. You attempt to get up only for your body to drop back onto the mattress like a deadweight.

Ricky sighs. Suddenly there are hands propping you up gently. A glass of water and fever reducer tablet is given to you and he watches intently as you take it, snatching the tablet packet and glass out of your hands before you can attempt to reach and place it on the bedside table. 

“I brought your notes.” He said, gesturing to the stack on your desk. “Gunwook made copies of his, I’ll come back tomorrow and until you get better.”

“Wahh, you don’t need to spoil me, Ricky-ah.” You scold half-heartedly. He doesn’t try to dignify you with a response.

“You should get more sleep.” He says instead. And he stays till you fall asleep.

Over the next few days, you find out that Ricky is, in fact, not joking when he said until you get better. He’s at your home after class everyday without fail, bringing copies of Gunwook’s notes and maybe a few extra things that he insists are for the good of your health. While you didn’t know how a giant pink squishmallow would help you get better, you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Damn, even if I know they’ll probably make my headache worse, I kinda miss Gunwookie, Gyuvinie, even Junhyeonie.” You say offhandedly as Ricky massages your hand, claiming some sort of health reason that you didn’t even care to question.

“That’s exactly why I told them not to visit until you’re better.” Ricky comments as he presses his thumb up and down your palm in a motion that was quite soothing actually.

“Don’t lie to me Ricky-ah, you just want to keep me for yourself, no?” You joke.

The silence that follows is suddenly heavy as Ricky continues to keep his eyes on your hand. And then-

“And what if I do?”

Your mind goes blank for a second, watching his face, his expression not changing. He must be joking with you, right?

“Aigooo, does Lovelicky have a crush?” You shoot back weakly. 

His fingers stop massaging your hand. He looks up. To anyone else, his expression would be the same but for you, there were certain tells, the slightest pink at the tips of his ears, the subtle way he swallows, the earnest hopefulness in his eyes when he says-

“Yes….”

“....I’ve always liked you.”

__________________________________________

Yujin is confused.

“So they weren’t dating before?” He asks Gyuvin, the older patting his cheek indulgently as they watch you hand feed Ricky snacks, stealing kisses in between bites.

“Nope. Our lovely vice president was oblivious as always and ice prince over there was too busy scaring away the competition to realise that he hadn't even popped the question.”

“But they’re dating now?” Yujin says right before Ricky catches you in a longer kiss, Gyuvin squawking and covering Yujin’s eyes.

“You really don’t need to keep doing that, hyung.” Yujin retorts once Gyuvin deems you two wholesome again. Nevermind that you’re halfway sitting on Ricky’s lap which the blond looks almost too happy about.

“But you’re A BABY.” Junhyeon chimes in dramatically after losing interest in the conversation between Gunwook and the president of Yujin’s class.

“Might be a good idea to ask your class president out before you end up like them, Yujin-ah.” Gyuvin sagely advises after following the younger’s gaze to said conversation.

Yujin’s nose wrinkles. “Ew hyung, we’re just friends.”

“Well friends can hang out too?” Gyuvin points out. “And- OHMY! GUYS!”

“THE CHILDREN!” Junhyeon screams helpfully.

Ricky looks up from where he’s been blowing a raspberry on your neck in retribution for you poking at his sides and shoots them a withering look. You giggle as he plants one last kiss before getting up to mess with Gyuvin.

It’s been an interesting year so far and you can’t wait to see where the rest of it takes you with Ricky on your side.

[nesiacha]

Propaganda mediatic around Tallien and french revolution

I fully understand that certain figures of the French Revolution are preferred over others who are less liked. It's a matter of preference. I myself have a very cultured friend who is a fan of certain royalists from this period like Olympe de Gouges, although I also admire the character in a certain way and deplore the sexism of that era which excluded her (such as the fact that she totally defends Louis XVI), but I've always enjoyed debating with this person, who is so respectful of others' opinions, very knowledgeable, and well-versed in the subject. Of course, the difficulty lies in not trying to defend the golden legend or the black legend.

It's another thing entirely to invent completely grotesque or even false facts to glorify one figure of the French Revolution and destroy another. In the grotesque episode of "Les Femmes de la Révolution Française" from "Secret d'Histoire," which was actually sexist (I" love" the fact that in this show, which claims to want to glorify women, they talked about the term "demi-mondaine" for women, when will there be an equivalent term for men, or the way paternalistic that someone call Olympe de Gouges the "little" Gouges ), there were also very serious errors or lies, take your pick.

To insinuate that Marat was a dictator when he was simply a deputy who was elected by universal suffrage, a journalist whose recommendations were not heeded, and who was arrested and brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal though acquitted according to the rules, what a funny dictator, I've never seen anything like that from a dictator before.

Furthermore, under what conditions would he have pulled off his coup d'état? The story continues in the next episode, I suppose, even though so far no historian has found any trace of Marat's coup d'état. I imagine the show will clarify that (or not). Under these conditions, I will address Tallien. They try to present him as heroic in the face of Thermidor when in reality everything was prepared for the theater of Thermidor, which was actually more anti-democratic than they let on and not out of the courage of this individual. They say it was Theresia's letter that motivated him to enact Thermidor when in reality it's because Fouché and his gang, of which he was a part, committed the worst atrocities during the French Revolution, and he wanted to escape the punishment that would rightly fall upon him and his friends and try to regain political "purity" by pinning everything on those who were to be executed (he later demanded the head of Billaud Varennes to further absolve himself). There are other motives regarding Thermidor that have nothing to do with the Convention wanting to get rid of a tyrant (Robespierre has faults but not those of a dictator or tyrant) or that they were fed up with the guillotine (the guillotine continued to function after Thermidor and the Convention had voted overwhelmingly for the creation of the Revolutionary Tribunal, arrests, the Law of Suspects). One day I'll write a more detailed piece on what I think because it's very complex, but you can watch "Robespierre: la Terreur et la Vertu" with English subtitles, it gives a better understanding of these events.

Tallien engaged in lucrative business, arresting the richest in Bordeaux so they would hand over all their money to him for personal use. Clearly not an upright man, but very serious. His lucrative business leads me to see two possibilities. Either he plundered honest people in difficult times under the pretext that they were rich and risked ending up with nothing for his personal profit, all while abusing his position, which is generalized extortion. Or he knowingly let suspicious individuals escape in exchange for money (should we recall that some suspicious Frenchmen betrayed France by handing it over to Toulon or Dumouriez), and imposed dechristianization not out of anger like Momoro, for example, but for his political career and to flatter himself, which is worse (sorry for comparing a man like Momoro to an individual like Tallien, they are truly incomparable). Later, he joined the muscadins, among other merry groups.

In any case, it's very serious, and whatever one might say about Robespierre, he had every right to be angry. Tallien is a political turncoat and bloody as Barras (I hate Ridley Scott's Napoleon for destroying the French Revolution and glorifying Barras, among others). The difference between Tallien, Barras, and Fouché is that Tallien completely failed, and an unpopular opinion perhaps, but I'm glad to see he suffered so much; it's well-deserved karma for all the wrong he did.

P.S: I love that the show "Secret d'Histoire" shows Thermidor as a great day for prisoners, as if they don't care about arbitrary arrests after this event (including the arrests of Albertine Marat, Simone Evard, Thuillier found mysteriously hanged, the fact that some political prisoners had to wait a few months after Thermidor to be released).

[chelseeebe]

falling. | part 3. to maneater.

summary: steve harrington was the first boy you’d opened up to. so why can’t you stop fucking it up?

c/w: billy is in this and there’s mentions of sexual assault and non-consensual touching so read with caution!

it’s finally done!!!!! i don’t even think i like this but it’s here!!! tumblr deleted a whole chunk of writing so had to redo some parts n ik they aren’t as good as the original <\3 also falling - harry styles especially the first verse rlly got me going for this one.

read part one here. | read part two here.

there had been absolutely no contact with steve. he couldn’t even look at you.

now being shunned from sitting on the table your two groups had taken over, jessica very kindly tells you, ‘it’s probably better if you don’t come, y’know.. just until steve cools down.’

‘right.. guess i’ll see you later then,’ you slink out of the cafeteria, choosing to retreat to your car instead, away from everyone.

to be honest, you weren’t keen on sitting opposite steve anyway. the way his eyes looked at you, all sad and disappointed.

on the friday, you’re sat in your car, willing the next two hours of school to hurry up when your passenger door swings open and a large body collapses into the seat.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’

‘you looked lonely, thought i’d give you some company,’ billy states, throwing his legs on the dashboard.

you shoo his feet off, ‘i was fine on my own, actually.’

‘darling, i’ve seen you sat here every day this week, your boyfriend still mad at you?’ he smirks over at you.

‘he’s not my boyfriend, never has been, but yeah, no thanks to you,’ you hiss, though you can’t solely blame him.

‘you really were wasted, huh? don’t remember what happened after?’ he lights a cigarette, rolling down the window.

‘well no, but i’ve been told.. steve couldn’t wait to throw it in my face, trust me,’ you state, looking over at the curly haired boy.

‘why do you give a shit what he thinks? never had you down as someone that cared what little pretty boys like harrington think of you,’ he takes a drag.

billy was attractive, not in a steve harrington kinda way, more rugged and much less clean-cut.

you reach over and grab the cigarette from him, taking a long drag before handing it back.

‘i don’t,’ you lie, ‘could not care less.’

‘that’s why you’re hiding in your car is it, sweetheart?’ he chuckles, eyes narrowing at you.

‘just fuck off, billy,’ you roll your eyes, unprepared for his home-truths.

he laughs, ‘n leave you all alone? you sure you want that?'

even though it was billy, you had appreciated not being alone at lunch. your friend's hadn't exactly shunned you, but had decided that during lunch they'd rather preserve the peace with their new-found friendship with steve and his group.

'you can stay, as long as you shut up and don't mention steve again,' you fold your arms over your chest, twisting your body to look at him.

'i'm not making any promises,' he flicks the butt of the cigarrette out of the window, turning back to face you.

'there's a party tomorrow, i'll pick you up at eight,' he winks.

in all honesty a party was a welcome distraction to everything at the moment, though billy would not be your usual choice of friend but at this point you weren't left with much choice.

then there's a twinge of guilt in your stomach, thinking of steve and how a party and billy had actually been the sole reason steve now wasn’t speaking to you.

he was the first guy you’d let get that close since moving to hawkins a few years back. an inexplicable feeling bubbles in your stomach as you think back to your date. how you had felt so comfortable with him, telling him things not even your friends had gotten out of you.

and suddenly that awful impulsive urge rises from your stomach. the one that only showed itself when things were becoming too serious with someone.

so fuck it.

you spent the whole of the lunch break with billy, in your car. you hadn't ever pictured your friday to go this way, but you were just happy that someone was actually speaking to you.

you'd neglected to notice steve, who had finished basketball practice, standing just a few metres from your car, glaring at the pair of you sat talking in your car. a frown planted firmly on his face, utter disbelief at how you could even be sat with him after that damned party.

tommy notices steve staring, searching for the cause of his scowl, landing on your car. he swings his arm over his friends shoulder in sympathy.

'bro.. c'mon, let's just go,' he tugs steve away and back into the school.

-

billy is late, obviously.

he wasn’t like steve, ready and waiting for you before you’d even finished getting ready.

you turn your wrist to look at your watch.

8:11pm

you were about to head back inside when you hear the loud car engine pull onto your street, wheels screeching to a halt.

billy grins at you from the window, you roll your eyes and get into the car.

‘you’re late, lucky i was nice enough to wait,’ you pull your skirt down, as it had ridden up past your thighs. not unnoticed by billy.

‘sorry darlin’, looking good though,’ he eyes up your thighs.

‘just drive, i need a fucking drink,’ you stare, flipping him the middle finger.

he chuckles, speeding off down the street.

-

you’d told yourself that there was absolutely no way you were getting as wasted as last time. but here you were, head spinning as you stumble up to the stairs and into the bathroom.

billy follows closely behind, pushing his way into the bathroom, ‘not tapping out, are ya doll face?’

‘no, i’m fine.. just need a minute,’ you lean your hands on the counter, looking at your blurry reflection in the mirror.

billy presses himself against your back, hands finding your waist as you watch him grin in the mirror.

you spin your body round to face him, placing a hand on his chest to push him back, ‘i’m not fucking you billy,’ shaking your head.

‘oh c’mon, i’ve been waiting all night for this darlin’,’ his fingers begin to slide up your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

‘no billy, i’m not doing that,’ you place your hand on his wrist, trying to move his hand.

his expression hardens as he leans his face closer to yours, his fingers now gripping your jaw, ‘you’re joking.. everyone knows what a little slut you are, what’s the problem? don’t tell me it’s harrington.’

his fingers tear a hole in your tights, latching onto the hem of your underwear and you freeze.

your eyes squeeze shut, ‘i just don’t want to have sex with you.. get off of me,’ your voice shakes.

he runs his thumb over your bottom lip before letting go, backing away from the counter, ‘whatever, you’re a little cock-tease,’ he walks out of the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the walls shake.

you sigh, wiping away the tears that had slipped out and rolled down your cheek.

you’d yet again made a gigantic mess of everything.

now left stranded at some random party, god knows where.

so, you do the sensible thing and walk down the stairs and out of the house, stumbling down the street as you pass the party goers.

you walk and walk, until you end up on the familiar street.

you don’t really know what you’re doing until you’re at the door, boots in hand as your knuckles wrap against the wood.

there were now holes in your tights, black mascara smudged down your cheeks and the red lipstick you’d chosen now anywhere but your lips.

you glance at the time on your watch

3:32am.

it had taken you an hour to even get here.

the door swings open and a shirtless steve stands in the doorway, hair sticking up every which way.

‘y/n? why are y- what happened?’ his tone becoming concerned as he notices your disheveled appearance and the leather boots in your hand.

you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, ‘i didn’t know where else to go..’ the lump rises as a cry escapes your mouth.

his arms are around your body, pulling you into his chest, before you can say another word.

you cry as he pulls you into the house, running his hand down your back. you can only cling onto him, only crying harder because you didn’t deserve this kindness from him.

‘hey.. what happened?’ he questions, pulling away to make you look up at him.

‘i was.. at a party and- and billy..’ you’re interrupted with a sob, unable to finish the sentence.

his eyes go from soft to filled with anger at the mention of his name.

‘what? what did he do?’ he spits, with the state of you it couldn’t have been good.

‘he just- he tried to touch me and.. and i said no and-,’ you’re interrupted by a sob, unable to even tell steve.

you can feel his body stiffen, ‘he didn’t… did he?’

shaking your head, you swallow attempting to conceal your cries, ‘no.. he just.. touched me.. it’s my fault, i shouldn’t have even gone..’

‘no, no it’s not at all.. c’mon let’s get you cleaned up,’ he pulls his body from yours, now taking your hand and walking you up his stairs.

the second time he’d come to your drunken rescue. you felt awful for relying on him so much.

but truthfully, steve would rather know that you’re safe with him than out there. no matter what had happened between you.

he gently wipes the remains of your makeup off with his moms face wipes, offering you the spare toothbrush and even turning around as you change into yet another one of his t-shirts, this time foregoing the sweatpants.

‘got my own collection going on,’ you laugh weakly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

he exhales, ‘s’pose you do.. they look better on you anyway,’ he stands in the doorway, ready to go to the guest bedroom.

‘can you.. stay in here.. only if you want to,’ you whisper, pulling back the duvet for him.

he walks over to the bed, ‘of course i want to.. whether i should is another story,’ he climbs into the bed, laying back.

‘you should,’ you lean your head back onto the pillow, staring at the cream coloured ceiling.

steve flicks the lamp off, turning on his side to go to sleep.

you’re sure he’s asleep before you let out the first silent cry, hand held over your mouth.

your shoulders shake as you sniffle, slightly louder than intended.

and then you feel steve’s arm snake around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

‘i’m sorry.. i thought you were asleep..’ you mumble.

‘no.. can’t sleep,’ he grumbles in response, still holding onto your waist.

you turn your body to face his, looking up at his shadowy face, admiring the way the moon cascaded over his features. you can just about make out his eyes staring back into yours.

‘me too..’

the eye contact is heavy, and you’re half tempted to reach up and kiss him.

steve clearly has the same thought, his lips colliding with yours with his free hand now cupping your face.

but this kiss is different, there’s no lust, no desire behind it. not like before. this kiss was soft, full of warmth and emotion.

he pulls back, searching for your eyes in the darkness, ‘c’mon you need to sleep.’

you nod slightly, resting your head on his chest and exhaling deeply.

his fingers trace patterns into your shoulder, chin resting on the top of your head.

eventually your breathing becomes heavy on his chest as you drift off to sleep.

his fingers slide through your hair with his other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, holding you close to his body.

he whispers into your hair, ‘you’re killing me here..’

eventually falling asleep, nuzzled into your hair.

-

it's noon before you wake up, steve's arm around your waist as he snores lightly.

he looked so peaceful when he was asleep, the usual furrow of his brow replaced with an undisturbed, stillness to his face.

you smile at the image, not wanting to wake him but desperately needing the bathroom.

you manoeuvre your body out of his grasp and tiptoe to the bathroom.

when you come back to the room steve is awake, sat up against his headboard.

‘i thought.. i thought you’d snuck off again,’ he exhales, running his hand through his hair.

you shake your head, ‘not this time,’ sitting at the end of the bed.

‘what happened last night?’ he asks, not wanting to press too much.

you sigh, looking down at your hands, ‘he.. he touched me.. i said no but he.. just-,’ you stop yourself.

steve reaches over, placing his hand over yours for reassurance.

‘he grabbed me.. called me a slut and a tease- i don’t wanna talk about it..’

‘you should go to the police, obviously if you want to.. but he shouldn’t get away with that,’ he squeezes you hand, his tone now full of disgust.

‘no, i’m not.. it’s fine- i’m fine,’ you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears.

‘you do-,’ he sighs, exasperated, ‘okay, it’s your choice.. but i’m just telling you now that i am going to kill him.’

you chuckle through the tears, ‘you couldn’t kill a fly.’

‘hey! i could and i have,’ he feigns offence.

you groan, using steve’s blanket to wipe away your tears.

‘are you okay?’ he questions quietly.

you nod, ‘i’m fine.. are you okay?’

‘why would i not be?’

‘because.. of me,’ you shrug, ‘what i did..’

he squeezes your hand, ‘it doesn’t matter.. you were right, you aren’t my girlfriend.. i can’t expect you to act like it,’ he sighs; slightly frowning.

his eyes are sad, gazing down at you.

‘it was still shitty.. i’m really sorry steve.. i’m trying to be a different person, better, but it’s hard..’

he exhales, ‘look.. we don’t need to speak about this now..’

you nod, appreciating his kindness. even if you were totally undeserving.

‘c’mon, i’ll take you home,’ he runs his thumb over your hand before standing from the bed.

you’re stood at his door when he picks up the skirt you’d worn last night. it had been a favourite but now you couldn’t even stand to look at it.

‘burn it,’ you say, disgusted at the sight of the skirt.

it goes unnoticed when steve grits his teeth, seething at how billy’s actions had made you feel so little. a shell of the you he knew.

-

you hesitate going into the cafeteria. there was still an air of uncertainty around you and steve despite you turning up on his doorstep sunday morning.

you notice the group of students now stood at the window, jeering and gasping at some commotion outside.

before you can decide whether to join them, jessica sprints up to you, 'you need to come, now,' pulling your arm towards the door to the forecourt.

'what? what's going on?' you query, stumbling as she drags you along.

'it's steve..,' she pants, breathless as she'd had to sprint to find you.

your eyes immediately land on the group of high-schoolers, crowded around the bustle you'd noticed from the window.

pushing through the crowd you spot steve squared up to billy, his hand shoving his backwards, billy tumbling back.

'fucking creep,' steve spits, stepping up once again.

'what's the problem? did i touch your little girlfriend? that little slut wanted it,' billy bites back, returning the shove to steve only a little harder.

you bite the inside of your cheek, guilty that you were the reason for the fight. his words sting, memories of the spiteful words he had spat at you in the bathroom flooding back.

steve lunges for the boy, landing a particularly hard punch to his cheek sending billy backwards towards the crowd.

billy clutches his cheek, a smile on his lips at the utter disbelief of steve's actions.

the denim clad boy tackles steve to the ground, pulling his arm back to sock him in the face, repeatedly, each hit harder than the last.

you gasp, elbowing the boys in front of you out of the way and stepping up towards billy, you grab onto his jacket in an attempt to stop him.

'fucking stop it!' you screech, pulling his arm back and away from steve.

billy pushes you backwards, falling to the floor as the crowd let out a collective 'ooh'.

fortunately for steve, ms. kelly gets into the middle of the circle as one of the gym teachers restrains billy.

you rush over to steve, his face now bruised and bloody. you cradle his head in your arms, trying to clean off some of the blood to assess how badly he was hurt.

he looks up at you, eyes squinting at the bright light, 'i'm sorry.. he deserved it though.'

you shake your head, though you can't hide the smile on your face, ‘we could've slashed his tyres or something, now look at you.'

eventually, you alongside one of his teammates take him inside, his arm resting on your shoulder.

you press the ice pack to his face, shuffling in the uncomfortable office chairs while you wait for the principle to finish speaking to billy.

'i think you're a fucking idiot for doing that.. but i wanted to thank you.. for defending me n' that..'

he turns to face you, 'oh that? wasn't for you.. i just really really wanted to get beat up,' he winces at his split lip as he smiles.

'it was kinda hot.. y'know the ten seconds before he beat the shit out of you,' you giggle. it was true, angry steve was hot, just not when he was angry at you.

your head jolts to the open door, as billy saunters out. steve had got a pretty good hit in, with billy's cheek now adorned with a new blue bruise.

he glares at the two of you, his lip snarling as if to say something but he restrains himself.

‘mr. harrington,’ mr. davis calls, gesturing towards his office.

you both stand at the same time, ‘you can stay here miss. (y/l/n),’ the principle nods.

‘no, i’m coming,’ you walk into the office and take a seat before steve.

mr. davis is shocked at your gumption, beginning his spiel about fighting and how it’s unacceptable in the school environment.

‘so unfortunately, i’ve got no choice but to suspend you-,’

‘no,’ you cut him off, ‘that’s not fair, it’s my fault he was even fighting, so you can either suspend both of us or neither of us,’ you cross your arms, staring at your principal.

‘well.. now we can’t do that.. school policy states that we need to punish anyone fighting,’ david states, leaning forward on his desk.

‘so suspend me too.’

steve gawps at you, mouth open at your brave actions, utterly speechless.

‘i don’t think that would be wise miss (y/l/n), it’s a one week suspension,’ he attempts to persuade you to concede.

you shrug, ‘i don’t care.’

‘okay.. well.. then you’re both suspended, i’ll be in contact with both of your parents.. i expect you back, not fighting, next monday,’ your principal sighs.

you stand up and exit the room, stone-faced as you barrel out of the school.

steve jogs to catch up with you, ‘wait.. wait, why the fuck did you do that?’ his fingers curl around your wrist.

‘because it’s my fault you were even fighting.. only fair that i take some of the blame,’ you turn to him only inches away from his swollen face.

a laugh erupts from his throat at the sheer absurdity of it all. it’s contagious as you burst out laughing with him.

‘we look crazy..’ you mutter, noticing the stares from nosy students out of the classroom windows.

‘you are crazy,’ he says, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

‘i’m not the one throwing punches at someone twice my size,’ you state, grinning at him.

he scoffs, ‘twice? i don’t think so.’

you shake your head, ‘let’s get out of this shit hole, you’ve just bagged me a week off.. i’m not wasting that.’

you walk over to your car, looking back at steve stood gawping at you.

‘i.. i drove so i’ll uh- see ya,’ he begins to walk to his car, fumbling in his pockets for his keys.

‘are you sure you’re alright to drive? your eye’s pretty fucked..’ you were just desperate to not let him walk away once again.

‘yeah.. this is not my first time being beaten up, believe it or not,’ he half jokes, wobbling over to his car.

‘well.. uh, do you wanna do something later? i think i owe you for defending my honour,’ you call after him.

he turns to look at you, ‘okay, dinner is definitely on you though.’

‘i’ll even come and pick you up.. six, so you better be ready,’ you open the car door, sliding into the seat.

you both drive home grinning at your nondate-date.

-

you’d never been so nervous, stomach doing flips at the thought of seeing him.

you pull up on his drive, giving your outfit a once over before sounding the horn. you’d opted for more casual wear, a difference to the usual short skirts and revealing tops steve normally saw you in.

he appears at the door before limping over to your car. he groans as he attempts to sit in the car, his bruises now visible on his face.

‘are you sure you’re okay to go out?’ you question, wincing at his cut hands.

‘yeah.. i’m fine.. just a bit sore,’ he mumbles.

‘mm, you look it, c‘mon.. we can just order pizza and watch a movie, it’s okay,’ you hop out and walk around the passenger side, helping him out of your car.

he wraps his arm around your waist, supporting himself with your body, ‘you could’ve said this before i dragged myself all the way over here,’ he jokes.

‘steve, i’ll fucking drop you.’

you help him into the house, placing him down on the sofa before looking around at the large house.

you’d never really seen it through sober eyes, suddenly noticing the childhood photos dotted around.

‘are your parents not home?’ you question, the quiet echoed around the house.

‘nah.. they never are,’ he shrugs, there’s a certain sadness to his voice as he settles into the cushions.

‘oh.. at least they don’t know that you’re suspended i guess..’ you try to spin it positively but you can tell just how hurt he is.

‘yeah.. i guess..’

you sit down on the couch next to him, grabbing the phone from the table and passing it to him.

‘c’mon.. it’s my treat so get whatever you want,’ you cross your legs up onto the couch, watching him on the phone. completely enamoured with his every little move.

-

there’s some action film on the tv, not your first choice obviously.

your knees are tucked into your chest as steve leans against you, head on your shoulder. you honestly weren’t even sure he was still awake.

‘i’m really sorry, steve,’ it comes out in barely a whisper.

you hear him sigh, ‘i know.. it’s okay,’ he lifts his head off of your shoulder, now looking at you.

‘no, steve.. it’s not okay.. i hurt you and that’s not okay..’ you can’t bare to look at him, into his sad, doe eyes, instead playing with the hem on your jeans.

‘it is.. im telling you that it is.. you aren’t my girlfriend and..’ he exhales, ‘it’s okay that you don’t want to be.. i shouldn’t have just expected it from you..’

you’re still picking at the loose thread on your jeans, ‘but i do.. i do want that.. i just- there’s something wrong with me and i just can’t help it, i fuck everything up.. i hurt people..’ you shake your head, quickly wiping away the tear that had slipped out.

being so vulnerable with him made you sick to your stomach. the first person in a long time to tap into this part of you, the side you had buried deep down.

he swallows before putting his hand on your knee, ‘you haven’t.. fucked anything up, i’m still here aren’t i?

you’re brave enough to slowly look up at him through sodden eyelashes, blinking at his words.

‘you know.. i’ve been begging to hear you say that for so long..’ he breathes, inching closer to your face.

‘i don’t wanna hurt you..’ you murmur, his hand cupping your cheek as he wipes your damp cheek.

he leans forward, placing his lips on your yours. the kiss is similar to the one you’d shared in his bed on sunday morning, soft with no ulterior motives. affectionate and gentle, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours as his thumb still tracing your cheek, ‘then don’t.’

you nod, placing your hand on top of his before kissing his lips again. carefully placing your other hand on his bruised cheek, sure to be gentle with him.

‘does this mean you’re my girlfriend?’ he mumbles into the kiss.

you laugh against his lips, ‘if you want me to be..’

he pulls back to look at you, ‘i want nothing more,’ the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

‘then i’m yours.’

[ddejavvu]

Professor Hotch for your multi verse monday? please please please pretty please I'd DIE for Professor Hotch. Also my grades would do a swan dive but who even cares about that?

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

The door of his office creaks open when you knock on it and your breath hitches as you realize it was never actually closed. You feel like you're intruding, but you hear your professor's strong voice tell you to 'come in', and you step through the door.

Professor Hotchner is sitting behind his desk, his arm in a sling. It's jarring, but not as terrible as you'd expected when he'd taken a week off due to a 'firearm-related mishap'. The email had said nothing more, in fact, you're certain it couldn't have said any less, but you suppose you're just thankful he hadn't blown a hole in his chest.

"I read your email," You start, tinfoil-covered platter in hand, "And I wasn't sure if you were alright. It was, um," You struggle for the words, chuckling sheepishly, "It was a scary email to receive."

He lets a soft smile grace his tired features, a sight you don't normally get to see. "It was a scary email to write," He admits, "I did it in the back of an ambulance with my one good hand."

"Oh my god-" You can't stop yourself from reacting, but he lets out a deep chuckle at your indignance, so you don't bother beating yourself up for it. "A-Anyways, I baked you these. I guess they won't really help, but- but I hope you enjoy them."

You peel back the layer of foil to reveal a platter of brownies. Something in his face softens, and it plants delicate seeds in your chest that bloom into overzealous joy. Your professor is notorious for being stony-faced, too serious for his own good. But with his arm in a sling, dark circles beneath his eyes, and shiny eyes at a plate of brownies, you suspect he's just like everyone else.

"Thank you," He finds words after a moment, glancing back up at you with his striking brown eyes, "Really, Y/N, I appreciate this. A lot, this is.." His eyebrows raise and he exhales through a smile, "This is very sweet of you."

"Of course," You smile sincerely at him, emboldened by his reaction. He gestures to the chair across from him, sleek black armrests shining with the reflection of the overhead light.

"Would you like to sit for a while? I didn't know it before but I'm in the mood for something sweet." He clears off a stack of papers from the spot on his desk you take a seat at. You set the brownies there, and he produces a napkin from somewhere inside of his bag.

He has to use his injured arm, so it's a slow, careful movement. Without thinking you reach out and take it from him, spreading it out over the wood. He thanks you softly, and pulls two brownies from the platter.

"Here," He tears the napkin in two, pushing one of the brownies towards you, "You're welcome to join me."

"Oh, thank you!" You eagerly accept the treat, trying not to seem obvious about watching him for a reaction. The deep, guttural groan that comes from his throat strikes you with a bolt of lightning that goes straight down your spine. It has you shifting in your seat slightly, and you use the brownie to stuff your own mouth.

"These are fantastic," He mumbles, speaking politely around a bite. His massive hand covers his mouth so that you can't see him chewing, and you try not to stare at it. You think it would look similarly fantastic wrapped around your-

"My son is going to be very happy with you," He muses, mouth finally free of fudge. Your eyes widen and flit to a photo frame on his desk, a little boy with a backpack on grinning up at you. You coo, swallowing your own brownie bite.

"He's adorable," And you mean it, the boy is all toothy grin and rosy cheeks.

Professor Hotchner hums in agreement, "Brownies are his favorite."

"I hope he likes them, too." You conclude, sinking your teeth back into the brownie, "You can't go wrong with brownies."

--

The next time you sit down at your desk in class, there's a paper there. It's folded and stuck shut with a green sticker, heart-shaped. You'd have left it alone, considered it an accident, but your name is written in yellow crayon on the page. You peel it open curiously, and your heart melts at what you find.

Y/N, the card reads, in a child's handwriting.

Thank you so much for the brownees brownies. My daddy lets me have one every night after dinner. They are Very good. We think you should start a bakery. I will come Every day after school!

Thank you very much,

Jack Hotchner

One glance up at Professor Hotchner at the front of the classroom reveals him staring up at you, something nervous in his eyes. At your grin, though, his own blossoms, genuine and warm. You hold eye contact for a moment, possibly too long, and then someone breaks your line of sight with him. A student comes up to ask him something, and he's looking away in a daze. You tuck the letter safely into your bag, making a mental note to tell Professor Hotchner that he's got the cutest kid in the world, and that you'll gladly start a bakery if it means you'll see them every day.

[silawastaken]

I love seeing people compare music to their favourite characters and go like 'oh yeah this verse might be this character... and then this one is the other one... and then this little bit here is them both honestly. Or something like that' because I HAVE gone through every taylor swift song on evermore and folklore and compared it to skk. Sorry to be autistic on the writing account, but this is a fanfic writing account and I'm writing my second novel length fic about them so what did you expect.

folklore/evermore are very canon skk, and verge into fanon and some songs are the reason for very specific head canons, or some of the ways I write the way they perceive each other. 1989... DON'T GET ME STARTED OMFG HAVE YOU EVER LISTENED TO BLANK SPACE? I THINK IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO NOT HAVE AND OMG IT'S SO SKK CODED LIKE WTF. I HAVE VERY FIRM OPINIONS ABOUT WHICH LYRICS ARE THEIRS. Also the vault tracks literally exist what more do you want from me. 'i think about jumping off of very tall somethings just to see you come running and say the one thing I've been wanting' okay dazai pack it up you did that already, beast exists. 'i call my mom sister she said that it was for the best remind myself the more i gave you'd want me less' yeah yeah chuuya we know he left you get over it, it wasn't personal(think that line could go for either of them but the other line 'the way you faded till i left' feels more Dazai personally). Plus suburban legends. For personal reasons I struggle to listen to song without SPIRALING FUCK YOU THAT ONE PERSON SEHDHSSJNS but very skk as well 'we were born to be national treasures' is very soulmates of them. And out of the woods screams them in fanfic when they try to get better. Red, straight away all too well. They both remember it all too well. All too well skk cover with switching vocals anyone? The last time. The one with gary lightbody. Underrated song, is my favourite on that album, and SO THEM. 'this is the last time you tell me ive got it wrong, this is the last time i wont hurt you anymore' because they're fated to be together and are constantly drawn to each other and yet keep HURTING EACH OTHER RAGH. also 'we are never getting back together' is pretty funny and nice when applied to them. also state of grace. any taylor song with a mild drop of religious imagery is them cause yeah. but 'i never saw you coming, and I'll never be the same'... okay pack it up, we don't have time for your yearning. 'you were never a saint' (dazai abt chuuya) 'and i loved in shades of wrong' (bc hes toxic and doesnt know how to healthily like people) 'we learned to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts' (bc they continue anyway and stick it out, living with the pain of being bad for each other because of how deeply they care). I almost do. Dazai after leaving. moving on to more religion, holy ground. 'for the first time i had something to lose' 'and i guess we fell apart in the usual way, and the storys got dust on every page' AAAAAA IT'S THEM. Can't really speak on debut- but I've listened to our song and picture to burn and if picture to burn isn't a vengeful chuuya idk what is. BOY OH BOY SPEAK NOW.

excuse me. one moment.

Mine- literally a skk au

Sparks fly- 'the way you move is like a rainstorm and im a house full of cards, you're the kind of reckless that should send me running' that entire verse screams dazai's fascination with corrupted chuuya, and the whole song is well yeah

back to december- dazai when they reunite just trust me on it just trust me on it. the repetition was intentional, that's how serious i am. 'i go back to december all the time' 'I got back to december to make it all right'

speak now- might just be me but it really makes me think of teen skk in fanfic harbouring urges to ruin the others relationship for 'some reason. I don't know, seeing him with her just... irks me'.

the story of us- first verse is chuuya, second verse is dazai, and the third is them both because they're LOSERS and they LOVE EACH OTHER and FUCK I'm CRYING NOW. 'id tell you i miss you but i don't know how' EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BASTARD.

enchanted- self explanatory. for more context, i really think it's from dazai's pov in this case, could probably be both, but dazai fell first and harder so it's really like god he's been in love ever since he got kicked into that wall he wants him around forever. He held Chuuya's hand in the fight with rimbaud and then had all those close moments in the manga and went home to lie on his bed kicking his feet and giggling don't lie. (god im still crying this isn't helping)

better than revenge- they're both pretty vengeful idk it makes me think of iwsynttr for some reason

haunted- chuuya pov. 'i thought i had you figured out, something's gone terribly wrong' 'stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had' they're so sad, but the general idea of chuuya thinking he has figured out dazai and knowing how he thinks and then dazai just leaves suddenly and he's like 'Wow! I thought i knew you. How do i forget this'. 'wont finish what you started' bringing chuuya into the mafia then leaving it.

last kiss- 'you told me you love me so why did you go away' chuuya pov again oh god it hurts why am i doing this to myself? 'never imagined we'd end like this, your name, forever the name on my lips' yep yep ow.

LONG LIVE.- LISTEN. TO. THE. SONG. AND TELL ME IT'S NOT DAZAI AND CHUUYA. I COULD DO A WHOLE ANALYSIS ON JUST THIS SONG. 'promise me this, that you'll stand by me forever, but if god forbid fate should step in, and force us into a goodbye...please tell them my name, tell them how the crowds went wild, tell them how i hope they shine, long live the walls we crashed through, i had the time of my life with you' FUCK IT'S DAZAI AN HE'S IN LOVE WITH CHUUYA AND DOESNT KNOW ODAS GONNA DIE YET, JUST THINKS HE DOESNT GET TO KEEP ANYTHING HE WANTS. FUUUUUCK. THEY'RE IN LOVE AND DAZAI WANTS IT REMEMBERED PLEASE I'M SO SAD.

anyway, i can't pretend I'm normal about skk anymore i haven't even covered fearless, reputation, lover or midnights please somebody encourage me to actually write full things dedicated to each album and the most fitting songs from said albums please i'll do it and plus i need to actually gather proof for my autism diagnosis appointment so this would be a good way to to that probably. anyway yeah this'll never make it out my drafts lol