#it would tire me out too. having only 1 class makes it not worth going to class. lmao

[holylulusworld]

Breathless

Summary: Dream a little dream…or shit…

Summary: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Secret crush

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being an awful boss (mentioned), enemies to lovers, tension, daydreams, secret crush, fear of flying (implied)

Words: 1440+  

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C5: Remote control 

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo: Square 10: Sexual frustration

Square filled for @allcapsbingo: G 4: “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Square filled for @marvelfluffbingo (expired): Square 19: office au

Part 1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Miss Y/N to my office,” Bucky barks. “I think we should talk about a few things…” 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” You are still a little shaken from the naughty dream you woke from moments ago and struggle to look him in the eyes. You only pray you didn’t talk in your sleep.

“I need you to come with me,” he casually says. “Tomorrow. On a business trip.”

“Tomorrow?” You splutter. “But…I didn’t pack, and I don’t know where we are going. Why do you tell me about this so late?”

“It’s a case of emergency. Stark wants to do business with one of my business associates. I need you there to distract him so I can make the deal with Barton.”

“You want me to distract Tony Stark? How? Do you want me to give him a lap dance or more?” while you cross your arms over your chest, and glare at your boss, the man himself still looks proud of his idea.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re not too bad to look at and you are good at making conversation. I want you to go home, pack a few things, and meet me at the airport at 7 o'clock sharp,” he demands. “Don’t run late.”

“I never ran late in all the years I’m working for you. But… tomorrow is my day off! I had had plans, and you just tell me I must go on a business trip.”

“You can take a day off after any other day, Ms. Y/L/N. I need you and I won’t ask again.”

You huff. He didn’t ask but demanded your obedience. Mr. Barnes doesn’t understand your irritation or that you’re angry at him. In his opinion, he gives you the perfect opportunity to prove your worth as his assistant.

“7 o'clock sharp, no discussion,” he snaps at you. “You are my assistant and will do as told. I need you at the airport tomorrow morning.”

It’s situations like this leaving you helpless and struggling. You should tell him, no, and to fuck off. But this would mean losing your job. Mr. Barnes is not being reasonable, and he knows it.

You’re fuming but can’t do shit about it. So, once again, you give in to someone else’s demands and swallow the words you’ve got on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine.” You turn around to storm out of Mr. Barnes’ office. If you stay for longer, you’ll slap the smug grin off his handsome face.

Morning came much too soon. You’re in the worst mood ever, and tired as fuck. On top of all, you dreamed of the smug fucker named James Buchanan Barnes again.

This time, he fucked you on top of the printer and plastered the copies of your ass all over the office. He was into degrading you in your dreams and it made you horny as hell. Sadly, you didn't have the time to take care of the problem. Now you are tired, cranky, and frustrated because you didn't get off.

“You made it in time, a progress,” Mr. Barnes dares to say. In the four years you’re working for him, you only once didn’t make it in time. 

“I’m always on time.” Your boss ignores you sassed back. “So, where are we going? I still need to get my ticket.”

“What are you wearing?” Mr. Barnes shoves his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down. He almost looks offended by your styling. “Are you wearing sweatpants and a Hello Kitty t-shirt? Where are your shoes?”

“It’s casual Friday, Mr. Barnes,” you feign ignorance. “I didn’t know we’ve got a dress code for a flight. I don’t think people in economy class will judge my choice of clothing. I want to be at least comfortable if I’m stuck in an airplane with two people for hours. And I got shoes on. Flip-lops.”

“Economy class?” He takes his sunglasses off. “I hate to disappoint you, by you are going to enjoy only my presence. I already got your ticket.” Mr. Barnes smirks. “I wonder if people in the first class will like your outfit.”

“Stop fidgeting,” Mr. Barnes mutters. You’re always nervous before take-off and can't sit still. You are gripping your remote control tightly with your right hand and press it to your chest. “Why in the world did you bring a remote control?”

He watches you stare down at your feet. “It calms me. When I got scared at night, I grabbed something to hold tight onto. If it happens now, I use the remote control from the TV in my bedroom.”

“Hmm…interesting,” oddly, his features soften, and he grabs your left hand. “If you are scared, squeeze my hand. It’s better than the remote control.”

“I didn’t know you can be nice too.” You glance at your boss. “Thank you.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replies sharply as if you offended him with your words. “In my world, you must be hard and strict. I can’t attend a business trip in flip-flops and a Hello Kitty shirt.”

You feel insecure out of a sudden. At the airport, you felt self-confident, but now, you feel like a fool. “I wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t know I’d end up in the first class.”

Mr. Barnes doesn’t reply. He waits for the take-off and thinks of the deal he wants to seal with Barton. “You should try to get some sleep after the take-off and redress at the hotel. We don’t have much time until the first meeting.”

“Okay,” you focus on breathing, and the warm hand holding yours. Your boss can be an ass, but right now he grounds you and helps you not to be scared anymore.

“Mr. Barton,” you politely shake Clint Barton’s hand. He smiles in return and asks you about your flight. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he holds your hand a little too long for Mr. Barnes’ liking. Your boss sneers, and he squares his jaw when you giggle at something Clint said.  

“Clint, we should get going. I have a few more meetings this afternoon. Can we talk about the deal now, or not?” You quirk a brow at your boss. 

“Shall we, Ms. Y/L/N,” Clint smirks at your boss. “We don’t want Bucky to get impatient, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “We should talk about the deal and the upcoming contract. I checked on the numbers, and you’ll see that Barnes Inc. is the perfect partner.”

Mr. Barnes dips his head to look at you. He looks impressed and nods his head in approval. 

“Well said, Ms. Y/L/N.”

The meeting dragged on. Your boss and Clint talked about every single detail while you tried to keep up with them and take notes. Or at least look interested when they started talking about cars, and investments.

While they sealed the deal of the century, their words not yours, you wondered why Tony Stark didn’t show.

Now that you think about it, neither your boss nor Mr. Barton mentioned Tony Stark.  

“Perfect,” your boss exclaims. He and Mr. Barton shake hands, as you are still thinking about the things Mr. Barnes told you. “Ms. Y/L/N, are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.”

“We earned dinner, didn’t we?” Mr. Barnes asks, taking you by surprise. He furrows his brows as you don’t answer immediately. “Italian, Indian, or Asian. What do you want to eat?”

“Okay,” your heart flutters when he holds out his hand to take the iPad and folder out of your hands. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

He grins. “Remember, you asked for this…”

“A hot dog,” you giggle. “I thought you wanted to dine tonight, boss.” You don’t mind your boss’s choice. You love a good hotdog.

“Y/N, that’s the best hotdog in the world. And for tonight, call me Bucky. We are officially off duty and got the deal done,” he grins before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. He smears mustard all over his face, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got something…wait,” you use the napkin to clean his face, making things worse as you smear the mustard all over his cheek. “Sorry…let me get a tissue.”

“Not bad, but there are better ways to clean my lips…” Your heart beats out of your chest when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. “You didn’t think I brought you here to flirt with Stark, right?”

“What? I-“You pinch your arm to check if you are dreaming again. “What?”

“Doll, I think we should talk about a few things after we finished the hot dog…”

Tags in reblog.

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

How to Build Resilience in Long Fanfic Writing

Sometimes, when a fanfic goes past 20 chapters, people who had been commenting, began to lose interest. Maybe you'll start doubting your skill or whether you "have what it takes" to be a writer, even if you're doing it for fun.

But maybe you see all those beautifully written but unfinished long fics and mourn that they'll never be finished (for the writer's valid reason or another). And you don't want that to happen to yours.

There is also an advantage to completing long fics: you develop the discipline to write original novels which can take far longer.

So if you're in for the long haul and you want to stay steady and true despite whatever popularity your fic may have, here's how to have the resilience to finish it to the end.

(Disclaimer: this is not a reason to stop commenting on fics)

#1 Whatever You Think You're Owed, Let It Go.

Accidentally quoting Elsa aside, I'm talking about comments. Comments validate and can make you learn new things about your fics through other people's eyes.

But when you see a high-to-low ratio between kudos and comments, you may feel like you are owed.

When you push yourself to complete three long chapters and publish them all in the same day and only get one response, it can feel like people are being mean.

The truth is, we'll never know why the people who loved our fics will not talk to you about them.

Maybe they forget there's a person behind the fic.

Maybe they're having a bad day and just want to shut down after reading something enjoyable.

But whatever the case is, it's beyond your control.

This post said it best (shoutout to @radioactive-earthshine) :

"Remember - hits/likes/kudos/comments are not reflective of the quality of your fic or your ability to write. Most people just don’t comment - even if they say they do, they don’t... Even if your fic brought tears to their eyes and it haunted them for weeks and they printed it out and sent it to their friends they just don’t comment. You just have to accept it.

I'm not saying you force yourself to let it go now. But someday, you will need to let it go, and control what you can which is you.

#2 Put Your Life First Before Your Readers

I have to say this because sometimes writers would have thoughts like "I haven't written for a long time; people must be wondering about it." Nope. Stop. Not worth it.

Creating is fun, but it is also exhausting. Add into the fact that most of us have 8-hour jobs or classes.

The reason you haven't written for a long time is that other aspects of your life deserve your time and energy, too. And after all that, you would be understandably tired.

So put your life first before your readers.

#3 Make Preparations to Replenish Your Soul

Long fanfic writing is energy and time-consuming. But you cannot depend on external validation to make up for it.

External validation in the form of comments can be good because we don't want to imagine it's all in our heads. But seeking it too much leads to what I've read in the book, "Ego is the Enemy":

"If outside validation is your only source of nourishment, you will hunger for the rest of your life."

So before posting a chapter, list down what you can do to replenish your soul after. Treating myself to a cafe one time helped. So is taking walks when the air is cool.

To stop anticipating responses too much, what works for me is to post on Wednesday. Wednesday is when people are less busy. At the same time, when the weekend comes, I don't obsess over it so much and can focus on other aspects of my life or replenish my energy for the next week.

In the commitment to complete a long fic, it's important to be honest with yourself. This is to be transparent with your needs and watch out for any signs of burnout, like feeling sad and tired. If you need to walk away from your fic for a while, then do it.

#3 This is Between You and Your Creation

Yes, fandom should be two-way street. Yes, fandom shouldn't treat fanfics and fan arts like commodity. And yes, there should be interaction and engagement. But before all that, there is this thing between you and your creation first and foremost.

Just as a story has to have a "why", remember why you thought you should write your long fic. Your reason may change over time, but when you remember your "why", you remember your true goal to keep going.

#4 Write like No One is Reading

This is a perk I adapted when I only get two responses if I'm lucky after updating a fic that has more than a hundred subscribers. If people barely react, then you're free to write whatever you please in your story as if you're dancing like no one is watching. Just have fun improving your skills.

This is similar to an inspiring section of the same post that I've found:

"10.) Write for yourself, not for others. Write the fic you know no one is going to read. Write the fic that sounds ridiculous. You will be so happy you put it out in the world and there will be people who will be glad it exists."

#5 Cherish the Rare Friends You Find Along the Way

Sometimes, we get lucky and get something better than a hundred people interacting with our fic -we find a friend we would make in the way of writing the long fic that we dared to write. And they're the ones who would cheer you on and cry and laugh with you about the shared stories. Cherish them.

(dedicated to @lightreader1)

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 1

This will fill the "It's mine, and you can't have it." square on my @jacklesversebingo card. The quote will be bolded.

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. This part is mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of making out at the end. They are both 17 when they're making out, so technically underage, but barely - and they are the same age.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 4,398

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. This part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19)

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean and Y/N basically spent their childhood bickering. They met when they were six, when their fathers teamed up for a hunt. The two of them, and Sammy had been left together with a friendly old lady who was mostly deaf, so she very happily didn’t have to hear their constant fighting. 

They fought over toys, they fought over snacks, they fought over who would get the first turn on the tire swing in the old lady’s backyard. Dean’s longer legs always got him there first and he’d gloat down at Y/N, his smile wide and wicked.

“Too slow, Y/N!” He’d taunt. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!” 

Since their fathers often teamed up, they ended up with the same babysitters, or in the same schools all the time. Dean was always popular; the teachers always adored him and his sweet smile and big green eyes. But Y/N was shy and slightly awkward, so the other kids didn’t usually play with her and teachers tended to ignore her. 

Dean would never let that stand though. When they'd play tag in the schoolyard he’d purposely go up and tag Y/N even though she hadn’t been invited to play the game.

When he’d tap her arm, she’d scowl at him. “I’m not playing, you idiot.” 

But Dean would ignore her and any of the other kids saying she couldn’t play. “You’re it!” He’d yell and then run away, sticking his tongue out at her and taunting her because he knew she’d never stand for it, and be forced to play. Once she was playing, the other kids usually didn’t care and the game would go on.

No one teased and tormented her like Dean did though. He was constantly yanking on her ponytail, or shooting spitballs at her from across the classroom. They competed over everything; test scores, who got to be the Christmas tree in the Christmas concert, who could skip with a jumping rope more times in a row without stopping, who built the best sand castle, who made a better volcano in science class - anything and everything.

In spite of that, however, Dean was also her biggest champion. When they were in third grade, Chester Hugo, a wiry little blonde boy, called Y/N fat and ugly and laughed at her. He showed her a picture of a whale in the encyclopedia in their classroom and laughed as he pointed to it.

“That’s you.” He whispered, and all his friends giggled with him silently. 

Y/N tried to ignore him, but at recess she was standing up against the brick wall of the school as usual, and Chester began waddling around in front of her and puffing out his cheeks. “Look everybody, I’m Y/N.” He called out before doubling over with laughter.

He only laughed for a second though, because without warning he was tackled to the ground by Dean, and began shrieking and covering his face as Dean pummeled him.

Dean got detention for three days because of it, and got grounded at home too. Y/N felt terrible, but Dean said it was worth it because now every time he walked past Chester, the bully shrank away or ran inside. 

When they were in the sixth grade, they went to Truman Middle School in Fort Madison, Iowa for a few months and ended up with a teacher who was absolutely terrible - Mrs. Abernathy. 

She was ancient and obviously didn’t really like kids anymore - if she ever had. Her classroom rules were arbitrary and confusing. She was constantly yelling at her students for doing things that had been permissible the day before. She barked orders at them and expected silence from them at all times. 

One afternoon the class was set to dissect a frog and Dean and Y/N were paired up to share one of the hapless amphibians. Mrs. Abernathy gave them their frog, closed inside a glass jar, along with a jar of cotton balls soaked in ether to toss in with the frog to kill him.

As soon as the grouchy old lady had moved on, Dean picked up the container holding the frog and pushed it into Y/N’s face.

“Hey Y/N look! It’s lunch time!” He said quietly, thrusting the frog towards her over and over.

“Stop it!” She said in an angry whisper, turning her head. After a while Dean grinned proudly at his ability to gross her out and set the frog back down.

Y/N looked down at it, and then got closer to the jar as the frog lifted its two front legs to press against the glass, looking for a way to hop out. It hopped around the confined space, rather pathetically trying to get free. Suddenly Y/N felt sick to her stomach and tears came to her eyes. 

She looked at Dean. “I wanna let him go.” She said quietly so only he could hear. 

Dean frowned at her. “What are you talking about? In like two minutes we’re gonna kill it and then look at its guts.” He said, trying to tease Y/N out of her concern for the frog.

But it didn’t work. Y/N shook her head, her tears falling fast now. “No, Dean, don’t kill it. I don’t wanna kill it. Look at him.” She said pointing to the little green creature desperately hopping around as though it could sense its impending doom.

Dean shook his head, trying to reason with her. “Y/N it’s just a frog. It isn’t gonna feel anything, the cotton ball will just make him fall asleep and then he'll die.” 

But Y/N was shaking her head, her eyes slightly frantic as Mrs. Abernathy reached the front of the classroom, having given everyone their frogs. Suddenly Y/N grabbed the jar and yanked it open, allowing the desperate frog to immediately hop away. 

She realized her mistake quickly as the frog simply jumped up onto another table and made the boys there scream and jump back, knocking their own frog to the floor so it smashed open, giving a second frog its freedom. The class erupted into chaos as the two frogs hopped around the classroom. Three more frogs had their jars smashed open as some kids scattered and stood on chairs, and some kids chased after the frogs.

Eventually, when all the frogs were finally rounded up and put back into new jars, (much to Y/N’s dismay) Mrs. Abernathy began looking for a culprit. She stood in front of Y/N’s desk and her always stern face was particularly harsh as she pointed a bony finger at her.

“That frog came from your desk, Miss Y/L/N, do you care to explain yourself?”

Before Y/N could answer, Dean stood up. “It was me. I opened the jar.”

Y/N looked at him, frowning and shaking her head. But Dean waved his hand at her. “Y/N told me not to, but I thought it would be funny if he got out.” He shrugged and gave a wholly unrepentant grin. “And it really was.”

Y/N tried to say something, but Mrs. Abernathy was too busy grabbing ahold of Dean’s arm and manhandling him out of the room. “Principal Yates is going to hear about this, young man.”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet as Dean was yanked out of the classroom. She sat quietly at her desk, guilty and sick feeling, as the other kids took full advantage of the teacherless classroom to discuss the frog escapade - loudly and with many sound effects. 

When Mrs. Abernathy returned, Dean wasn’t with her. Y/N tried to talk to her and explain the truth, but the teacher wouldn’t listen.

“Enough!” She shouted angrily. “There has been more than enough disruption in this classroom for today. Sit down and take out your math textbook.” Y/N opened her mouth and the old lady sliced her hand through the air. “Now!” She barked loudly, making all the other students pull their textbooks out as well.

Y/N didn’t see Dean again until the end of school. He was walking down the side road that led to the motel they were all staying in.

“Dean, wait up!” She called to him and he slowed his long stride. When she reached him she shook her head. “What were you thinking? Why did you say you did it?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. I just like to see Abernathy go berserk.” He said with a lazy smile.

Y/N frowned. “You got in trouble. Did you get detention again, or -” She stopped still and gasped. “Were you suspended?”

Dean just shook his head and kept walking. “No, it’s fine.”

Y/N ran after him. “What do you mean? What did Mr. Yates do?” When Dean just sped up and kept walking Y/N reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to force him to stop.

Dean winced and inhaled sharply, his face contorting in pain. He tried to pull his hand away, but Y/N had already seen the huge red welts that were spread over his palm and fingers. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she stepped closer and cradled his hand in hers.

“He gave you the strap?” She whispered, horrified at the image of Dean’s hands being struck over and over with the thick leather strap the principal kept hanging just outside his office.

Dean shrugged as Y/N lifted his other hand and looked at the damage there too. “Yep, five licks for each hand. Said it was supposed to make me remember to not let the devil use my idle hands for mischief.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait till we're out of this bible-thumping, piece of shit town.”

Despite the life they led, Y/N was still sheltered enough that hearing Dean swear felt rebellious and she blushed a little. Then she sniffled and looked at Dean with remorse suffusing her face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have done it. And I really wish you hadn’t said it was you. I should have been the one getting strapped.”

Dean frowned darkly. “No, that would have been so much worse.” He said quickly. 

Y/N’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dean’s face flushed and he just shrugged and pulled his hands away from her. “No, I mean - I just mean, you know I’m a hunter, I’m used to it. I mean the last hunt I went out on, I took down a werewolf.” He bragged. “You and Sammy, you’re still soft.”

Y/N scoffed at that, running to keep up with him as he walked on. “Whatever, oh great Winchester. ‘Took down a werewolf’? I feel like you probably had some help from your dad and mine.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter! I still fought him.” He argued, and the fight was back on. 

***

Within a few years though, Sam and Y/N did begin to join the hunts. They started slowly, hunting ghouls and wraiths, and other easier-to-hunt monsters.

However, in Y/N and Dean's Junior year, the end of middle school for Sam, their Dads began asking more of them, claiming that they needed to concentrate on learning to hunt. They told the two of them that they were needed for more important things than algebra. That was when Dean dropped out of high school, going to work with them and hunting full time. 

He told Y/N that he was just sick of school, and he’d never need it anyway. But Y/N knew he’d done it to give their Dads the help they wanted while giving her and Sam more time to be students.

By the time they were sixteen Y/N had figured Dean out. He still teased her mercilessly, constantly trying to annoy her with his hard rock, making fun of the boy bands she listened to. When she scored a ninety-five on her chemistry test, he’d called her poindexter for two weeks straight. 

But he was also fiercely protective, and he would bloody the nose of anyone who tried to hurt either her or Sam.

And she knew she was right about why he dropped out of school. Sometimes, when she and Sam were sitting around the motel room doing homework together, discussing the novel one of them was reading, or trying to make sense of trigonometry, she’d look up and catch Dean watching them with a look of longing on his face as he was cleaning weapons.

It was always gone in an instant when he noticed her watching, and he’d usually crack some kind of joke about what nerds they were, but Y/N knew what she saw. She would usually suggest that they stop their homework and watch a movie. Or she’d beg Dean to take them for a ride in the Impala that he’d inherited when he turned sixteen and his dad bought a truck. He’d always act like it was a huge pain, but she knew he loved it when they all piled into the car, rolled the windows down, and pretended to be carefree teens for a while.

She knew him and he couldn't get anything past her.

What did sneak up on Y/N, however, was how much she actually liked Dean. Like…like-liked him.

It became clear to her one day when she was seventeen, and in her senior year. Dean swung by one afternoon to pick up her and Sam after school. He was standing outside, leaning against his beloved car, waiting for them to show. She rounded the corner with a few girls she was doing a group project with; they were trying to iron out details of when they were going to meet to collaborate. 

When she saw Dean waiting there, she raised her hand to let him know she saw him and she was coming. Sam bolted past her and ran to the car. “Tell him I’m coming!” Y/N yelled after him.

She turned back to the discussion wanting to hurry up so she didn’t miss her chance at a ride. But all of the girls were just staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What?” She asked, self consciously covering her face slightly, worried she had something in her teeth.

The short girl to her right, Tracy she thought her name was, sputtered slightly and then looked pointedly at Dean. “Are you kidding me? What? Who?” She asked, flipping her hand quickly in Dean’s direction. “Who the hell is that?”

“Oh,” Y/N responded slightly confused, “that’s just Dean.”

“Dean?” The red-headed girl across from her asked. “Is he your brother?”

“What? Ew! No.” Y/N denied vehemently, and it took her a moment to figure out why that idea grossed her out so much. When the girl with braces (Sheila?) spoke though, the reason hit Y/N like a Mac truck.

“He’s so ridiculously hot!” Sheila exclaimed and all the other girls agreed quickly, giving giggly little moans and being incredibly obvious about staring at Dean.

At first Y/N’s mind wanted to mock that idea, remnants of their childhood rivalries and bickering jumping forward. But then she looked back at him where he still stood, talking to Sam. 

Holy crap, she realized with a bolt of lightning kind of realization, he really is ridiculously hot.

He wore black jeans and his black Metallica t-shirt which stretched tightly across his newly broadened shoulders. His hair was thick and perpetually looked like he’d carelessly run his fingers through it. His smile was bright and blinding even across the schoolyard, and though none of them could see it, she knew his eyes would be twinkling in that mischievous way they did when he was bent on getting into trouble.

She could see that he was noticing all the attention he was getting, and he patted Sam on the shoulder and started to walk towards them. Sam gave a full-body eye roll and got into the back seat.

The girls all turned shrill as he approached, laughing like dying hyenas. Y/N felt anger start to burn in her stomach and it confused her. But when Dean stopped in front of them and smiled charmingly at each of them, Y/N recognized that it was jealousy turning her heart green and she was shocked. 

“Hello, ladies.” Dean said in a would-be suave kind of way. It made Y/N roll her eyes, but her classmates practically swooned. 

A chorus of dreamy hellos followed and Y/N grabbed on to Dean to pull him away. But Dean resisted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I’ve, uh, got my car over there.” He said, thumbing towards the Impala, his face full of teenage boy pride. “Anyone need a lift?”

All of them began nodding and squealing, but Y/N shouted over them. “No, it’s fine, Dean, let’s just go. They’re good.” She succeeded in dragging him off but when they were a few yards away from them, Y/N ran back quickly to warn her temporary classmates, using a paraphrased version of she and Dean’s childhood refrain.

“Stay away from him. He’s mine and you can’t have him.”

***

Once Y/N realized her feelings for Dean, things became very awkward for her. All the things that used to be simple, sitting beside him to watch a movie, training with him for hunts, simply sitting across the room from him and looking at him - they all became unbearable situations that she didn’t know how to deal with.

When she sat beside him now she could feel the way he radiated warmth, she could feel her heart skip a beat when he’d shift his leg so his thigh pressed against hers. When they were training, simple holds that she had only ever cared about breaking out of before, now left her breathing heavy. When his big hand would wrap around her wrist or whenever he'd reach his strong arms around her waist from behind, it was everything she could do not to just sink into his arms like putty. 

About a week and a half after her epiphany hit, she and Dean were alone in the motel room, sparring, and he pushed her up against a wall, pinning her there and expecting she'd try to get out. But he was breathing softly across her cheek, his face inches from hers and her whole body started tingling, making her lose her grip on the knife she held. It fell from her grasp and ended up slicing his calf on the way down.

“Aah! Jesus!” Dean shouted as he let her go and hobbled away from her. “What the hell, Y/N? What’s wrong with you?”

He sat down on the bed and Y/N ran over to pull up his slashed jeans, gasping at the long wound that bled down the side of his calf.

“Oh my god, Dean!” She said, jumping up and quickly grabbing the first aid kit. She got back on her knees beside the bed and pressed pads of gauze against his leg to stop the bleeding. She looked up into his face and saw his eyes closed in pain. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

Tears hit the backs of her eyes and she shook her head, looking back at his leg. “God, I’m so sorry.” She repeated in a teary voice.

“Hey.” Dean said as he lifted her chin so she was looking at him again. His thumb brushed away a tear that fell down her cheek. “Sweetheart, it's fine. No need for tears. I’ve survived worse.”

Y/N’s breath stilled in her chest and she whispered quietly. “You’ve never called me that before…sweetheart.”

Dean immediately tried to act casual, but he wasn’t a very good actor. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t, like, freak out about it.”

Y/N nodded and went back to caring for his wound. Once she got the bleeding stopped, she could see it wasn’t very deep. As she cleaned it, she could feel the tension between them rising, like something thick and palpable. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Did you, uh…I mean do you want me to call you that? Or, I mean…did you like it?”

Y/N felt her cheeks turn a burning red and she shrugged as she taped a big piece of gauze over the long cut. “I dunno.” Was her only response.

She was finished taking care of him, so she stood up and started to walk away. But Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the back of her t-shirt. He let go as she turned back to face him. 

“Why have you been so weird lately?”

Y/N laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Dean stood up and pressed closer to her, slipping his hand around her so that it laid against the small of her back. Her blood pumped hard in her veins and she licked her lips. Dean’s jaw clenched and his eyes fell to her mouth.

“I mean that you’ve been weird with me all week. Ever since I picked you up at school and you got all jealous.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped open before she slammed it shut and spluttered. “Whatever! You wish! Like I care about the dozens of girls you riffle through in every town we stay in.”

Dean moved closer to her and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek and trail his fingers along her jawbone. “I mean…it does actually seem like you care a little bit.” 

He walked her backwards a few more steps so that she was pressed up against the wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes roamed over her face and then he looked deeply into her eyes, and his green-eyed gaze made her feel exposed, like he could see into her soul so there was no point in lying to him. He’d always known how she felt. He knew when she was scared, knew when she was annoyed, and when she was furious; he knew her sadness and the loneliness that seized her sometimes. 

He always knew, and he always knew just how to make things better for her. She’d already realized that she was actually incredibly attracted to him, but now she realized that he was also her best friend. She felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that sooner. She’d always thought of him as this annoying gnat that wouldn’t leave her alone. But really he was the person who knew her the best, the one she was never afraid to go to for anything, the one she knew would always have her back.

Dean’s breath was soft against her lips as he hovered there. “So, do you care, Y/N? Even a little?”

She could do nothing but nod, and then close the distance between them, pressing her lips against his briefly before pulling back, terrified to see his reaction. 

But a wide, slightly goofy smile spread across his face and it made her smile in return. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He said before he planted his mouth over hers and kissed her for real. 

She’d never been kissed before, but she’d imagined it many times. This was nothing like she’d imagined. It was much wetter, much hotter, and much more all-consuming than she’d imagined it would be. Her head was swimming, and she felt like she might pass out. He swept his tongue into her mouth and she moaned. 

The thought of “french kissing” had always weirded her out a little. Who wanted someone else’s tongue in their mouth? But Dean’s tongue was silky and skillful as he trailed it along the roof of her mouth. It felt possessive and that feeling made her stomach clench in a pleasant and shaky kind of way. 

When she reciprocated, slowly allowing her tongue to trail along his, Dean groaned and slipped both his hands down over her hips to press her closer to him. She gasped as she felt his hard on through his jeans, pressing against her lower belly. 

Dean pulled his mouth away from her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, before turning his head and pressing soft kisses along her neck.

“Sorry.” He said gruffly. “It’s just…I mean, fuck you’re crazy hot. Sorry.” He said again, but Y/N giggled, more thrilled than she could say at his reaction to her and to their kisses.

“But,” Dean continued, “there’s no rush or anything, no rush to, you know, do anything.”  He raised his head to look her in the eye. “I’m just so glad that you're, uh…that you like me, you know…like that. I’ve liked you for so long.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Been wanting to kiss you since we were about eleven years old.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I just realized last week that I wanted to kiss you. How have you known this long, and not tried to kiss me even once?”

Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Never thought you’d want me to, and I wasn't about to try something and weird you out…or make you stay away from me. But then, you seemed so jealous the other day, and the daggers you were shooting at those other chicks gave me some reason to hope. Then you’ve been so weird ever since.”

Y/N snorted. “Whatever, I wasn’t shooting any daggers. I’ve been very cool and collected this whole time.” She lied.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, the gaping wound on my leg says otherwise.”

“Hey, don’t blame me because you lost focus and got yourself hurt.” Y/N said haughtily. 

“Lost focus? I did not lose focus. You got all swoony and dropped the damn knife.”

“That’s totally not true. You know you always - “

Suddenly Dean cut her off with another kiss, one that was deep and probing and left Y/N completely senseless.

Dean’s breathing was harsh and shallow too as he rested his forehead on hers and spoke against her lips.

“God, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Kiss me?” Y/N asked, her eyes still closed.

“No. Shut you up.”

It took Y/N a moment to register his words and then her eyes popped open and she saw his wide, mischievous grin and punched his upper arm lightly. “You’re an asshole.”

Dean nodded and yanked her tight against him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

Y/N laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “But let’s just remember who kissed who first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

[purplephantomwolf]

Love in Motion

Chapter One

Synopsis: Lydia gets a wrong number text from Lando Norris.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Next chapter: Chapter Two

Masterlist

April 4, 2022

12:30pm

     I sigh, turning my attention away from my organic chemistry professor to my laptop screen. I watch as the 20 best drivers in the world complete the last lap of the first race of the 2021 Formula 1 season. I just recently got into Formula 1, so I’m watching the 2021 season to get a feel for the sport. One of my best friends says the 2021 season is a great season to watch because of the fights between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton. I silently cheer as my favourite driver, Lando Norris, finishes P4. I look up at the clock and see that it’s only 12:30. Still 35 minutes left of class, I think. I let out a little audible sigh, turning back to my laptop. I move on to watching qualifying for the first Italy grand prix of the 2021 season. I have just clicked play when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I grab it and see a text message from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: Did you make it home from the club okay?

Me: *One image attached* Considering I’m currently in a chemistry lecture, I think you may have been given the wrong number. I’m sorry.

     I send a picture of my view of my professor, laptop, and notes to the unknown number. 

Unknown number: Oh, thank you! I’m sorry for bothering you!

Unknown number: Hang on, are you watching Formula 1 while in lecture?

Me: It’s okay! Also, yes I am watching Formula 1 while in lecture. I’d rather be learning about Formula 1 than boring organic chemistry. Also, why are you texting someone about getting home from the club okay? It’s 12:30 pm?

Unknown number: It’s currently 2:30 am for me. I was attempting to text a girl I was talking to at the club, but it looks like she gave me the wrong number. 

Me: Oh, that makes sense. Wait, where are you that’s 14 hours ahead of me? Also, I’m sorry about the whole wrong number thing. That really sucks. Unless she gave you the wrong number cause you’re a creep. Then you deserve it. 

Unknown number: I’m currently in Melbourne, Australia. And I wasn’t being a creep! At least, I don’t think so. I hope not at least. I try my best to not be a creep. 

Me: Alright, that’s good. I doubt you were being a creep. And Australia? Jeez, that’s so far from me. I’m in Minnesota, United States.

Unknown number: That's only a little far from Australia. 

Me: Yeah, it’s going to be not fun to watch the F1 race this weekend, but staying up is so worth it to see the race live.

Unknown number: Big fan of the sport? 

Me: Yeah, I am. I just recently got into it, so I’m watching the 2021 season to learn everything I can. I’m also attempting to watch all the qualifying and races live.

Unknown number: Oh cool. That’s got to be tiring Considering most of the races are in Europe. Waking up early every day of the weekend must suck. 

Me: I mean, yeah. It kinda sucks, but it’s not too bad. I’m not waking up super early unless it’s races in places like Japan and Australia. The earliest I have to wake up is like 6 for other races. That’s not too bad though. 

Unknown number: Oh, that’s not too bad then! Which team do you support?

Me: Well, there’s not a specific team I really support. If I have to choose one, it would be Ferrari, probably followed by Red Bull. I support drivers more than I support teams really. 

Unknown number: Okay, then who are your top three drivers?

Me: That is a hard decision to make for 2 and 3. Lando Norris is for sure my number one driver, but I have like 5 drivers tied for second and then 5 tied for third. I made a tier list one time lol

Unknown number: Okay, so what’s the tier list then? I’m curious

Me: The people within each tier are in no particular order. So it goes 1. Norris 2. Verstappen, Leclerc, Gasly, Ricciardo, Sainz 3. Schumacher, Albon, Stroll, Vettel, Tsunoda 4. Bottas, Guanyu, Ocon, Russell, Hamilton 5. Latifi, Magnussen, Perez, Alonso

Unknown number: Hmm, interesting. So do you dislike tier 5 then?

Me: No, I don’t dislike any drivers. Unless you count past drivers *cough* Mazespin *cough* Tier 1 is my all time favourite. Tier 2 are ones I also support a bunch, but are not my all time favourite. Tier 3 are ones I support, but not much as tier 2. Tier 4 are ones I support some. Tier 5 are ones I don’t support at all. 

Unknown number: That’s a funny nickname for Mazepin. But why don’t you like him?

Me: I’m not sure. I just get a weird vibe from him. 

Unknown number: Interesting. But I get what you’re saying. Can I ask why Lando is your favourite? My favourite is Carlos. 

Me: Sure! Lando is my favourite because of his personality, humor, and how he speaks out about mental health. I really struggle with depression and anxiety, so having such a public figure speak out about it is amazing. Also helps that he’s got the boy next door charm. That’s definitely my type lol.

Unknown number: Ahh, okay! Those are good reasons to like him! Now, I feel weird talking to a nameless person. Can I ask you what your name is?

Me: My name is Lydia. Can I ask what your name is?

Unknown number: Lydia, that’s a pretty name. My name is Luke. 

Me: Nice to meet you, Luke. 

     I look up when I hear a commotion around me. I see that my classmates are packing their things and leaving. Wow, time really flew by talking to this stranger. I put my phone down and quickly pack my things. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head out. I feel my phone vibrate with a text again. I see that it’s Luke again. 

Luke: Nice to meet you too, Lydia. 

[humanoidalien27]

I'm back with a new story and one that has game spoilers, please be warned, and it kicks the crap out of my feelings. Good luck my fellow readers and I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Content warning: arguing, game spoilers, some possible triggers

.....

Wizard Hunt

Chapter 1

Hubris

After everything the two of you had been through, you couldn't believe it got to this.

He didn't even stop as your face twisted in pain.

"I guess you don't care enough about curing this as I do."

"Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't be here helping you-"

"Helping? You're working with a goblin!"

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you gave a heavy sigh, which Sebastian usually noticed was the time to stop. This wasn't one of those times.

"How could you work with a goblin after they cursed Anne?!"

"The same way I'm helping you after you used crucio on me!" You snapped, glaring right back into his eyes. "Besides one goblin cursed Anne, not ALL of them. And on top of all of that, I have more on my plate than five years worth of school work, extra assignments to catch up, helping you find a cure or every other thing people ask me to do, okay? So, if I have to do things you don't agree on, I'm sorry, but I'm not doing them to spite you. I'm trying to stop a goblin from enslaving the whole wizard world, while dodging Rookwood and Harlow. I understand your desire to cure Anne, I do, but getting angry at me for trying to save EVERYBODY the only way that's presented is a little self centered."

"Is it? Because as far as I can tell, you're unwillingness to help us self-centered too."

You refrained from trying to strangle him as you threw your hands in the air. "Fine Sebastian, believe what you want. It's not my job to change it. Walk your own path."

You turned on your heel to leave, but he caught your arm.

"Wait. I'm sorry-"

"No you're not," you hissed shoving it away. "You just don't want me to leave. But, I'm tired of being used and manipulated. I can't do it anymore."

You left the undercroft, nearly walking into Ominis while you climbed out of the clock.

"Oh, sorry."

His head cocked in your direction. "What happened?"

Letting out a sigh, you started down the corridor to go to the next class as he moved into the clock.

You sat with Natsai and Poppy for Potions class, getting the attention of all your friends, you heard them whispering, but were grateful they didn't ask you directly.

You continued to work on your potions homework before someone tapped your shoulder, drawing your eyes to Poppy.

"Here," she said holding out a folded parchment.

Sighing you took it from her and opened it seeing Sebastian's hasty handwriting.

-I would like to talk later. Meet me tonight in the undercroft.-

You looked over your shoulder, seeing him already watching you, with Ominis giving him a scolding.

You looked back at your cauldron as you stuffed the note into your pocket.

"You're mad at him?" Poppy asked, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I'm always mad at him lately," you admitted, stirring your potion.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Their eyes watched as you ran a hand through your hair, your tell tale sign that it's too stressful. "No, I really don't. I don't even want to talk to him about it."

"Then don't go," Imelda replied, overhearing as she grabbed an ingredient from the shelf nearby. "If he's stressing you out this badly, it's best if you distance yourself until you feel up to it. Otherwise you're catering to him and letting him know you'll forgive him no matter how he makes you feel. Then, he'd never stop, because you'd already established he can get away with it."

Groaning, you let your head drop to the table loudly.

"What is going on over here?" Professor Sharp asked walking over.

"Nothing professor," Poppy said quickly.

A hand rested on your shoulders, so you lifted up to look, seeing Professor Sharp.

He took one look at you and sighed. "Go to nurse Blainey, you don't look so well."

Confused, you didn't argue as he moved away.

"Just go," Poppy said politely, stopping you from putting up your stuff.

"We'll bring it to you later," Natsai agreed.

Nodding, you moved to leave, ignoring Sebastian who was watching you.

Walking felt like it was draining your energy, so you used floo flames to get to the hospital wing.

Where nurse Blainey immediately had you lay down on a bed to take a nap, saying something along the lines of looking like the dead.

As soon as you laid down, exhaustion won.

Hearing pages turn, you dreaded opening your eyes, thinking Sebastian was reading beside you, but a low gravely hum told you it was Professor Fig instead.

Slowly, you looked his way, getting his attention almost instantly.

"Ah, you've awoken. It seems you're over doing it with the nightly escapades."

His tone was teasing, but there was a note of worry to it.

"I'm fine professor, just haven't been sleeping lately," you admitted, only half-lying.

Using some truth as a foundation for your lie, he bought the excuse.

"Are we over doing things? Do you need a little bit to recover? I can explain things-"

"No sir, it's alright. I feel better now that I've rested."

Another half-truth. Your body was fine, but your mind was still heavy.

"You know you don't have to take everything on your own. You're just one person."

Nodding, you sat up. "I should get to the common room."

He stood up and grabbed his book. "I'll walk you. The last thing you need is a prefect giving you detention for walking around after hours."

Giving a soft laugh, you moved to fall into step beside him.

"Are you sure you're doing alright?" He frowned when you looked up at him. "It's just, I know a lot has been placed on your shoulders. I worry it may be too much."

"Not at all sir," you replied softly. "Like I said, I'm just not sleeping well."

He nodded, though still seemed unsure.

Natty met you in the common room the next morning, her eyes moved around your face.

"You still look terrible."

Chuckling you took the books she held out for you. "Thanks and good morning to you too."

"How about we go to Hogsmeade today?"

Blinking you met her gaze. "What about classes?"

The concern broke into full blown panic. "It's the weekend."

"Oh," you whispered before chuckling to make it look innocent. "Let me put this away, then sure."

"We can invite Poppy too." She mentioned following you. "Garreth too, he was talking about needing something from Hogsmeade."

It might be nice to have a day away from ancient magic, the keepers, Sebastian and his need for dark magic.

You chuckle as you put the books onto your bed. "Are you trying to make up for lost time?"

She snickered. "Might as well, right? None of us have anything to do, right? Let's go have fun."

Nodding, you looped your arm through hers and began down the stairs together, though you had to go through the tunnel one by one.

"There you are."

It was like being brought back into the pit you'd just dig yourself out of as you met Sebastian's gaze, while he pushed himself off the wall. "We really need to talk-"

Natty moved over, grabbing your arm again. "She has plans today, excuse us."

Blinking you've never heard her speak so strongly before, unless it was directed at Rookwood and Harlow.

Sebastian was right to appear startled, but when he turned the glare onto you, it stopped any guilt from manifesting.

.....

Next Chapter

[devious-bliss]

Coping Mechanism

Author's Note: This is partially based on a true story of mine and I never really got over it, but writing about it seemed right and it fills me with confidence that everything will be just fine, despite how much you think it's all over. Gotta add some tickling stuff to it cause, obviously. Hope you enjoy it! ^^ P.S.: I'm gonna be posting more stories cause I will have more free time and motivation to do so, so... YAY!!! --------------- “Hey… so you remember when you told me that you loved me a year ago?”

“Y-Yeah!? What about it!?”

“Well… I’ve had enough time to think about it… and… I think it would be best if we stayed friends”

I knew what the answer was, but it doesn’t mean I was ready for the answer… I couldn’t even respond with any of my feelings, they weren’t even there. Just emptiness, emptiness that I couldn’t fill with anything.

“Are you gonna be okay?” To be honest, I’m not sure if I will

“I’m fine... for now, I’m just… gonna need time to digest it”

“We’ll still be friends though!”

“Y-Yeah…” Yeah… that’s what I thought… if only it was true….

——————————————————

July 4 10:27 am:

🎇 Happy 4th of July! 🎆

July 28 1:57 pm:

🌅 How’s your summer going so far? 

August 14 4:39 pm:

School starting soon? 🏫

September 9 7:42 pm:

How have your first days of classes gone?

October 31 9:18 pm:

Happy Halloween 🎃 Did you dress up as anything?

November 23 9:45 pm: 

Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃 

December 25 10:12 pm:

Merry Christmas! 🎁 Get anything exciting? 

January 3 11:11 pm:

Hey… how’s your winter break been going?

March 17 12:07 am:

Hey…

Sigh… It really hurts, you know? A year later… and still nothing…

“Still thinking about them, huh?”

“Yeah… I can’t help it. The first one always stings the most.”

“If you don’t try again then they’ll be the only one.”

She’s right, and always has been… and I love her for that. 

I leaned in for a hug as she opened her arms to me, comforting me a little before my suppressed emotions pushed out some of the bad thoughts out of my mouth.

“I’m a fool…”

“You’re no fool… just… inexperienced” Ouch… that did NOT make it better…

“Hey…cheer up. If you keep moping around, then I’ll forget what your smile looks like.” She chuckles, putting a slight smirk on my face before it fades away again. 

“Come on, lighten up!...please…” I can try…but that’s not gonna last long…

“Let’s listen to some music! That usually cheers you up!” “It’s worth a shot I guess…” I already know, it’ll work for a little while before it hurts me too…

“I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul, I want you to notice…” And there it is…

“Alright now, you’re doing it on purpose!” Her words meant nothing, it may be true but I accepted that long ago.

“We can play some games, that’ll take your mind off of things”

“Sure, we can play Sorry cause I’m sorry for my failures, or we can play Guess Who where I can guess who’s more successful than me, or we can play The Game of Life where I can feel the fake life that’ll be better than mine-”

“You know what!!!” She interjects as she grabs me by the shoulders. That sarcasm definitely struck a nerve with her.

“H-Hey, what are you doing!?” I pull, kick, and struggle as much as I can without trying to hurt her. It’s not her fault… it’s mine… I can’t fight her for that… but she’s not real… 

I slowly stop resisting and she loosens her grip as I sit there, stuck in thought. 

“She isn’t real, she’s a figment of my imagination so why….” I snap back into reality, scrambling away from her again.

“Who are you? What are you!?” Her face grows tired of this game of resistance as frustration is all over her face. I wasn’t able to get that far before she climbed up the bed and planted her arms on top of mine. Her strength is now unimaginable, completely unable to stop her.

“Just let go and let me take control!” Her voice firmed up as she guided me to lie back down.

“B-But I-”

“Shhh….it’s okay. Trust me~” Her playfulness brushes away bits and pieces of my hesitation until all that is left is intimacy.

“I’m here for you… I always will be~” She lightly drags her hand down my cheek and around my chin, sending tingles that I couldn’t ignore.

“H-Hehehehey nohohow! That sehehehems a bihihit of a-a-a stretch now, don’cha think?”

“A stretch? Why is that? I’m a part of you after all~” I want to resist but… I can’t. She holds some sort of power over me, leaving me a giggling mess… at least for a few seconds which felt like an eternity. Not even five minutes and I’m gasping for breath as my brain seems to mush.

“What’s the matter, babe? Can’t handle a few tickles~”

B-B-Babe!? I-I-I don’t know about that! I-I-I-I mean…why not? A-A-And she wants to *tickle* me!?

“U-Uh…no?…”

“Oh? Is that so? Oh well, too bad!”

Before I could protest, she skittered her fingers over stomach

“Nohohohohohohohoho!!! Dohohohohoohohoon’t!!!”

“Oh? Why not? Can’t handle my teasing~?”

“I-I cahahahahan’t!”

“You can break free anytime you want~ You just have to want it.” I hear her words but there’s no resistance. I could feel each and every finger pressing into my skin, stimulating the nerves, causing me to squirm every which way to hopelessly try to get away

“…or perhaps…you enjoy having me all over you~?” Why am I doing this to myself!?!?!

My frantic thoughts were stabilized once the tickling faded out almost completely, leaving me dazed and a bit confused.

“You know what? You look really cute when you’re laughing uncontrollably, hot even~”

“You…*pant…pant*...think so?”

“Of course~ It makes me wanna-mmmm!!!”

Before she could finish, she was getting involved in some affectionate kissing. Her lips burned with passion which traveled through her and into me, and soon enough, I couldn’t stop myself either. The urge was too strong and neither of us wanted to back out…until…

“Looks like someone liked what he was given, huh~?” I could only nod in response, like a deer in headlights.

“Well…good cause we’re going into round 2 with a little something special~” And with that, she was back at it again with her passionate kisses. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t focus on her hands moving straight for my ribs. As she scribbled her nails, her lips held mine hostage as I instinctively sprang up. I could feel her lips curl into a big, mischievous smile with each muffled squeal that entered her mouth.

It only took me practically running out of breath before I was released, left gasping for dear life. I take a look at the one that nearly kills me, nothing but a sweet and innocent smile which makes my face burn like nobody’s business. I look away again to regain my composure (and breath) which gives me the strength to sit up.

I smile brightly looking back at her, ready to ask all of the questions that plagued my mind with a goofy grin plastered over my face and she reciprocated with a loving gaze, ready for anything that I would say to her. What do I ask? Which one first? Does she know the answers I have questions to?! But there was only one thing that I REALLY needed to know… “When can I be with you?” Her confidence faded in an instant, unsure of what the answer actually is or will be. My face sags back down too. M—Maybe I said the wrong thing. Did I mess up? Don’t go away!!!

“I… don’t know… I’m just a construct of your imagination…” The sad truth of her words pierces me, and the depressing reality sets back in as I sink my head down. “BUT!!” I look up again, awaiting the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Don’t let that stop you from finding someone who IS real, and who knows, maybe you’ll even find someone just like me~ But just remember, they won’t be as cute as me~” My face burns up again as she starts to fade from reality, with a newly burning passion resonating within my heart. “See you…soon…”

[kygerbearr]

getting into high-end ff14 content made me realize 2 things.

1). many people who have particular responsibilities have NO business with them

2). apparently i'm a fucking genius when it comes to shit because i can watch a short guide and understand what to do while everyone else apparently needs several days worth of catch up to do one of the most basic be-here-then-go-here shit on the planet. i have never been more frustrated with humanity. i am so tired. everyone i meet is either someone who takes thing too seriously and has zero skills to back it up or there's people with a wife and kids and a 9 to 5 job and a mortgage who come home from work and are somehow fine with doing MORE work dealing with people who dont know their fucking job and everyone is managed by someone who's an absolute pushover and still expects to be the "leader"

like i don't consider myself very smart. everything in this game appears to be very easy, i don't struggle with any of it, i don't understand how all of these seemingly normal people can struggle so hard with mechanics that have been reused over and over with a new coat of paint, and I feel guilty even suggesting its easy because of how hard everyone makes it out to be

do not believe anyone when they say ff14 is hard. it isn't. it's one of the easiest games i've ever played, i have never felt personally challenged by something in it and the only difficulty i'm having is being around dipshits who somehow don't understand how something works. i feel like i'm in a classroom full of people who showed up to the exam without studying anything and it's like they expect a clear just for showing up. buddy, this fight has so much personal responsibility that if you don't figure your shit out, the WHOLE CLASS fails, and you can't move on until you pass.

and i KNOW its easy because I made my OWN group out of frustration and we cleared THE FIRST DAY WE STARTED RAIDING. the VERY FIRST DAY. I have been with this other group for MONTHS.

this group cannot handle clockwise and counterclockwise somehow. there are markers on the floor arranged in a clock. it got to the point where I had to suggest that people look for a particular number and rotate towards it, and somehow, everyone STILL messed it up.

not only that, but in this group, any time I try to express something that goes against their ideology either the leader gets on my case or one of the members gets on my ass. just the other day I had this fucking asshole who was running shield healer who WASNT APPLYING SHIELDS?? during PROG??? and when I said "hey can we get shields" he was like "no we're good" we were dying. bodies on the floor right in front of him.

so I asked why. his argument? we cant have shields. it would mess up his gcds. I have CLEARED THIS FIGHT ALREADY, AND WITH SHIELD HEALER. so I know we can have shield for Every raidwide. and when I tried to explain how, he got angry and was like "no the fuck we cant and i will NOT have someone micromanaging my gcds" buddy my friend is dead on the floor right there and it's your fault

we proceeded to not hear from him the following week. essentially no-call-no-show but for a videogame and not a real job. whatever, not my problem. just meant I could be shield healer. and that day went super well! we had prog. i was healing. we didn't die outside of people failing their personal responsibilities.

i mean it when I say I genuinely don't enjoy the game anymore. I'm so exhausted from dealing with people who don't give a shit and aren't trying hard enough, are too stubborn to do anything different and hate it whenever I do anything whatsoever that goes against their agenda. it's not a team at all, it's a fake ass leader who can't lead with followers who are so fucking mindless braindead that they think they can mindlessly follow this failure of a leader into a clear for a fight they've been stuck on for THREE MONTHS STRAIGHT.

it takes up so much time out of my week (3 hours on both monday and tuesday so back to back, very exhausting, reminder i dont like these people because they treat me like shit and simultaneously I'm the only person who cares about what we're doing) and there were times where I legitimately would've preferred working (which i cant do while playing this game) and man I hope they get rid of me because my martyr complex keeps me from leaving them until we clear the fight

don't play final fantasy 14 it's not fun it's not worth it and if you do then dont talk to anyone. i legit only have fun when its with my friends and I have yet to meet a person on 14 I could make any sort of meaningful connection with. they're all so normal feeling, they're always like 5 years older than me and it freaks me out, I don't fit in, I don't belong there, and I don't want to stick around in a place I don't feel I belong in. the ONLY good thing about the game is that I can play as a big kitty cat

[ratralsis]

Strings: Mini-Prequel and Mini-Sequel

In the time between my first attempt at writing the story I'm currently calling "Strings" and the version that I just posted, I took a couple of short-story-writing classes from the same school that I then took two longer novel-writing classes from.

Because I lack creativity, or possibly because I thought it would be fun, I decided to use characters from Kevin and Marigold's little story in a couple of the prompts.

One prompt was to write a 250-word story based on the phrase "Love Hurts." This is what I wrote.

Henry tilted his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly. He yawned, alone in his car with his briefcase and a fast food bag, still slightly warm from holding the dinner he'd eaten while driving. He grabbed the briefcase and walked to the door of his house.

He knocked. After a moment, the door was opened by an older woman who looked almost as tired as he felt. "You can't keep doing this," she said.

"It won't be forever, ma," he sighed, raising his arms for a quick hug. The briefcase made the motion clumsy.

"Until when, then?" She asked. "Until the girls are old enough that you just leave 'em by themselves all day?"

His shoulders dropped. He looked past his mother at the curtains. Pale blue. Emily's idea, bought just over a year ago. Before the twins, when it was the two of them living here. Now it was the three of them. It had never been the four of them.

He swallowed that thought along with a piece of hamburger bun that had been stuck in his teeth. "What do you want me to do? I gotta work. I'm all they've got."

"No, for half the day, I'm all they've got," she said.

"And I appreciate it," he said. "But we're both too tired for this right now. Can we talk about it this weekend? Please?"

"Fine," she said. "They're asleep, God only knows how much longer."

"Alright, ma," Henry sighed. "Good night. Love you."

This is much of a prequel as I ever plan on writing for Marigold. 250 words, all of them very carefully chosen as I pared down a much longer piece until it fit that requirement, about Henry as a young man, and Marigold and Lily as tiny babies who don't even really appear.

Henry's struggling to get by. He's working overtime at the law firm, trying to establish himself as a lawyer or possibly still trying to pass the bar, I'm not really sure myself, at age 26 or so, while the girls are still too young to be left alone. In another year, he'll have remarried, and in a few more, he'll have divorced, and then a decade or so of peaceful days before one of his daughters dies in a car accident.

It's not worth writing more about him. I love Henry as a character, but his story, to be blunt, doesn't interest me much. As a character, he's fascinating, though. He's worked hard and found himself thrown about by fate and chance in a million different directions, and through it all, he's perservered, and worked hard, and done his best to keep his chin up. When we meet him in the main story, he's 47 or 48 years old, still working, making somewhere around $100,000-200,000/year in his day job (but not, like, millions), living in a big house with a big yard, but he's living by himself, and finds himself facing life as an empty nester while also knowing he's going to have to keep working for probably another decade or two before retiring. He's not sure he made the right decisions, but he did what he thought was right, and now things are the way they are and nothing can change the past.

But what's the conflict in his story? If I actually wrote it out, it would just be "Decent, hard-working guy keeps having bad things happen to him and his family," and that's not an interesting story.

So no prequel for Henry, but I absolutely love the 250 words I did write. "It had never been the four of them" is one of the best sentences I've ever written.

A while later, as a POV exercise, I wrote this three-part story. It's a sequel to the main story, and I really enjoy it, too.

Part 1. Marigold arrived home later than she had planned. There was no way to sneak into her apartment after the guests had already arrived. She tried to look on the bright side: this way, she could avoid the suspense of having to wait for them to show up.

She had helped Kevin set up the Christmas decorations earlier in the week, so those were no surprise. The bright paper streamers along the walls were his idea, as was the tree in the corner that took up a bit more of the room than she would have preferred. It did look nice, though, she had to admit. Extra chairs had been placed at the table, but nobody was sitting at it.

She hadn't known what food he was going to be preparing, and the spicy smell of it hit her like a wall as she walked in, guitar on her back. Her heart in her throat, she scanned the front room, hoping to see Kevin first. She saw him, but he was standing near the kitchen, chatting happily with the guests of honor: his parents.

Part 2. "Oh, there you are," Kevin said, turning to face her when he heard the sound of the door. "I was just finishing up the grand tour, such as it is."

"Oh, great," she said, giving them her best stage smile. "Let me put my guitar away, and I'll be right back for introductions, okay?"

Kevin smiled back and nodded. His parents said nothing, staring almost blankly at her. She darted into her music room and placed the guitar case against the wall. She could fuss with it later. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and came back out. Kevin and his mother had disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving his father standing by himself. She walked over, stuck out her hand, and looked up at him. He was as tall as his son--nearly a foot taller than she was.

"So, I'm Marigold, and you must be Mister Stiles."

He took the offered hand and shook it. "Please, just Kevin," he said. "I think we can be on a first-name basis."

"Sure, but, that's also what I call, you know, Kevin Junior?" She kept smiling, though it felt a bit strained at this point.

Part 3. "I'm sure I can figure out which of us you mean from context clues," he said. "So, my son told me you're a musician. Tonight's performance ran late?"

"Um, well, sometimes that happens when I'm playing a reception," she said. "I'm paid by the hour, so when the family is willing to keep paying me to stick around, I… let them. Plus, they're more likely to leave me a good review if I'm a good sport, you know?"

He furrowed his brow slightly and looked closely at the petite woman in the pink dress in front of him. "Certainly. And that's what you wore to a wedding reception?" He asked.

She bobbed her head to one side and continued smiling. He wondered if this was her best dress. "Yep," she said, after a moment. "Sure did. I'll be right back, I'm just going to get a drink."

She was back in only a moment, full glass in hand.

"I like the decorations," he told her, gesturing.

"Thank you," she said. "They were Kevin's idea, actually."

"I know," he said. "I still thought you should know that I liked them."

"Okay," she said, and downed most of her glass.

I can't remember what all of the rules were, but I believe Part 1 was required to have no dialogue, part 2 to be from one character's point of view, and part 3 to be from another's. Part 3 is meant to be from the point of view of Kevin Stiles Sr., though it's not as obvious as I wish it were given how short the story is.

I loved writing this, because I loved showing Kevin's dad as this very uptight and stiff conservative sort of guy who looks down on Marigold's line of work and lack of education (she's a high-school dropout with a GED, remember), sees her as irresponsible (for showing up late to an event like this Christmas party), and wonders if the outfit she has on is really the best she has (maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but it's what she wore to a wedding reception where she played acoustic guitar for just as many hours as her client was willing to pay her to). He's not a bad guy, but he's not willing to meet Marigold at her level or engage with her as an equal. He doesn't accept that she's going to have trouble calling both him and his son "Kevin," because, even if this guy says he'll know who she means, when they're at the dinner table and she says "Say, Kevin," both Kevins are going to look at her and she's going to have to point at one of them.

Marigold also has a rough relationship with alcohol in the original story. After her car accident, she quit drinking. It's the real reason why she refused a drink from Kevin on the night they first met. Her "I don't drink while I'm working" excuse was a lie. She doesn't drink alcohol because the last time she did, she thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel of a car and her twin sister died. It's based on a guy I knew whose drunk driving accident scared him sober, but I don't know how common it really is.

Yet, in this sequel story, she downs most of a glass of something that presumably has alcohol in it simply because Kevin Sr. is being kind of weird to her and she's having a hard time coping with it. So either

A) She's gotten over her fears of alcohol and now drinks on occasion, B) There's actually no alcohol in her drink and she just finds the act of drinking ANYTHING to be calming, or C) I thought it was funny and knew nobody else in my writing class could possibly have read her story and known she didn't drink.

Take your pick.

While I truly love the character of Kevin Sr. as seen here, as the guy from whom Kevin Jr. gets his serious and boring sides from, a stereotypical no-nonsense German dude (Kevin is 1/2 German, 1/4 English, and 1/4 Mexican, though only the 1/4 Mexican part is specifically mentioned in the story; Marigold's ethnicity was spelled out in an earlier draft as being equal parts South Korean, Syrian, Northern Indian, and Puerto Rican, but I decided for this draft that it was more fun to just leave her as "light brown" and never let the reader actually know), but going on from there, it's not the most interesting story. It would just be Marigold having a very awkward night, and while I did truly love writing from her POV after so long writing from Kevin's, and showing her fears and insecurities for once instead of Kevin's, as well as showing how Kevin appears to her from the outside for once, where does it go from here? Eventually, Kevin Sr. and Mary will leave, and Marigold will sigh heavily and say "Wow, that was rough" and Kevin will say "Haha what" and then they'll… live happily ever after, probably?

Again, there's not much conflict there. I don't want to bring back anything from Marigold's past to threaten the happiness that she and Kevin have together. No childhood friend is going to appear and threaten to get her canceled online. Her probation officer isn't going to show up and threaten to lock her up because she crossed state lines. Her career isn't going to fizzle out and force her to get a real job. Kevin's not going to lose interest in her and find solace in the arms of another woman. They're just going to be a boring couple like every other boring couple from here on out. They'll have ups and downs. Maybe Marigold will eventually be able to have kids, and maybe she won't. Maybe they'll adopt, and maybe they won't. Maybe they'll drift apart in ten years and get divorced, and maybe they won't.

I'm really and truly happier not knowing. I'm happier leaving them just as they are, a young couple starting their adult lives together, unsure of themselves but sure of each other, doing their best to face things one day at a time, just like everyone else.*

*I love this kind of ambiguity in storytelling sometimes. It's why the second chapter ends with Kevin saying that he isn't sure if five minutes will be enough time to make up for two months of not having kissed Marigold. What happens next? Does he give her a little peck on the lips? Does he shove his tongue into her mouth? Do they fuck right there on the loveseat?** It's whatever you want it to be. I'll never tell.

**They probably didn't fuck on the loveseat. They really did only have five minutes, after all. But given that Kevin reflects on how he's seen Marigold's spiderweb tattoo before when she shows it him a few months later, it's reasonable*** to assume that, at the very least, he's seen her in her underwear.

***My headcanon is that Kevin's social awkwardness and Marigold's fear of letting someone get too close to her mean that neither of them has as much experience with sex as they want the other to think they do (it's entirely possible that they began the story as a couple of virgins), but it's not on the page, so it really is just headcanon, and mine is no more valid than anyone else's if it's about things that didn't make it into the story.

So there won't be a prequel or a sequel, because I've already written them, and they were a lot of fun, and there's nothing else to say about Kevin Stiles and Marigold Spade that I want to say.

For now, at least. If I live long enough, I may change my mind.

This is already more of an afterword than I had planned. There won't be more.

[pbandjesse]

For some reason I have a cough. But only at home. I didn't cough at all at camp. I don't understand it. But it made my sleep last night kind of suck.

After I did my post I did some stuff around the apartment. Cleaned some critters from the frog tank. I poked around for a while. I had a yogurt. I texted James about how much I missed them. And I went to sleep.

But I had a lot of dreams. About dinosaurs? And a theme park? And I woke myself up coughing and was so tired. I woke up at 6 and was in and out for a while. But eventually my alarm went off and I got up.

I wasn't thrilled. I didn't feel great. But I would shake it off and honestly felt really cute and felt more like myself.

I left here and went to the Y. Jeniya was running late and literally ran towards my car when she got there. Again Dame didn't answer if he was coming. So after 5 minutes we left. He would text me later that he was sorry and he didn't feel good. I hope he's alright.

We got to camp on time. And I was thrilled when there was still scrambled eggs. Which made me feel a lot better. The protein was needed.

And I really enjoyed this morning workshop. We learned about diversity, equity, and inclusion and the speaker was awesome. Such a soothing voice and the presentation was excellent. I also got 4 squares done. Which brings me to 61 squares! I will have to pick up more yarn soon.

Celia forgot to set an alarm and was very stressed when she got there but it was nice to have a friend. Callie was there too but she was sitting with Annabelle and I was feeling weirdly isolated today. It would get better when I was back in my space but I was struggling being in the whole group and feeling very much. Alone.

Lunch was kind of not fun. The workshop was over at noon and I had my class with the feildtrips group at 1. Which was fine but I wasn't sure about lunch. If it wasn't worth it, like if it wasn't a food I wanted, I would just go work up in the art building.

So I waited until 1230. They started putting things out and I was like. Let me go ask about the vegetarian option. Which is what we have been told to do. So I go in and gave an absolutely bizarre interaction. The first worker was like oh ask the man in the back. So I do and he keeps asking me what group I'm with. I do not understand so I say I work at camp? And he's like but what group?? And I was like I'm not with a group? And he gets frustrated and says vegetarians are eating the same as the kids, a stir fry. And I'm like okay, thanks. I can clearly see onions, plus his tone upset me. Like tears immediately to my eyes. So I said okay that's fine, just checking. I have a class to go teacher. And left.

I stopped and just took fries, even though they didn't get everything out yet. I was mad and upset. And I just walked in the rain and ate my fries and tried not to cry.

I went to tell Celia, who was in the nature building cleaning, what happened. And she was like. That sucks. And I was like right? Telling someone made me feel a little better. But I decided I would also tell the office. Because we are supposed to be having vegetarian options that are the same as what everyone else is having. And Heather agreed that it wasn't correct and then Alexi said it might be a delivery issue. She said the onion thing she would make a note of. I just don't want to have an upset stomach. I'm finally starting to feel better after whatever hurt me on the 1st. I don't want it to happen again. Alexi said she might just have them make me special Jesse plate with no onions. Which makes me feel like I'm asking to much, but she said that I'm not asking, that she's offering. And it still makes me a little uncomfortable but we will see what happens.

My classes this afternoon were fun. The rain picked up and it was loud. But they all did so good! And learning sewing was so good.

The only issue was that one of the girls got into the new oil paint markers. And I was like oh please don't use those! They are new! And she went to put it back but in the two minutes they were being used a cap was lost. And I was just so bummed. They all spent ike 15 minutes trying to find it but it seems to be gone. Never even got to use them before that happened. I put the market in a ziplock so hopefully it'll be useable for a while. The little girl kept apologizing and felt really bad. And I was sad but I told her I don't hold any ill will. Things happen.

One little girl kept telling me I was a vibe and how cool I was and that was nice. She was struggling with sewing because she was clearly a perfectionist. But I got her through some tough moments and it made me feel successful. And the chaperones made a point of complimenting my patience. I have pretty endless patience for kids. It's just when a group is large and loud when I can't always power through. But I was happy and the group was happy and that was nice.

One of the chaperones also worked on making a pillow because he forgot his and that was very funny. He did a good job for his first time sewing!! Even if he kept trying to get me to do it and I was just like. No.

After they left me I went to check in at the office. And then it was just parent/camper open house tours. So I went up to the arts building and took a half hour break. I had a snack. I swept. I watched videos about the missing sub. They heard knocking on sonar today. They have less then 12 hours of air left.

I texted Celia and asked if she needed help. I would head down there and help her move the chickens around so she could change their hay. It smelled terrible. But I was glad to help. I also swept the building before heading back ho to arts.

I worked on some examples. And around 6 I texted Jeniya and asked if she was ready to go.

We left and the storm was getting bad. Peiplee ere driving terribly. In the middle of two lanes, swerving, turn signals on for miles. Plus my phone wouldn't connect to the car and so it was a quiet ride. We shared my snack. Talked about our moms and how important they are to us. And then I dropped her off.

When I got home James had stuffed shells for me. I was so happy to see them. I missed them very much. They would play DND while I laid on the couch. And eventually they joined me. I told them about my day. They told me about theirs. And eventually I went and took a shower.

Now we are in bed. Tomorrow I have my CPR and first aid class. The scary in person part. And then we are all sleeping at camp. I hope it's fun. I hope it's just a good time for all of us.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves. Goodnight!!

[asachuu]

So far, what I’ve gotten from learning Japanese instead of working despite risking total collapse very, very soon:

1. I can partially read the Japanese comics that have been saved and rotting in my gallery for years now as the closest free media I can get my hands on.

2. I somewhat feel deeply cursed by point 1, purely because those comics have been saved for artworks of one single character in them, very much not the actual content itself. A silent nod to my telepathic audience is in order.

3. But god damn, do I have to admit through gritted teeth…are they entertaining sometimes.

Maybe someday, I’ll be able to read a manga to my liking…I’ve currently decided to dive headfirst into N3 vocabulary instead of all the work piled up on me that I’ll likely be explaining to hospital staff in just under a week, which— according to public opinion— is a perilous mistake, but is it worth the three seconds of pure happiness at being able to understand something, literally anything, even if it’s deeply questionable media from the depths of my storage?

Yes. Of course. I don’t care if I’m sitting here like Sisyphus trying to get the same three words I keep forgetting for two years now into my head over and over again back somewhere from N5 while knowing how to use less grammar than a watermelon. Finally, finally, it feels like everything is starting to pay off.

And yes, this does deserve a main account post. I haven’t been sitting here for so long, for years treading through endless months of absolutely no motivation, wish or energy to learn this language, let alone do literally anything else, to not post something ten times less uptight than my usual textposts when for the first time, I’ve gotten somewhere like this through my own efforts I’ve miraculously never given up on.

I suppose…if you want to do something with a goal you deem far too ambitious, it’s always worth a try as long as it drives you, and I say this as an impatient pessimist who barely ever has any hope and usually wants results immediately. Admittedly, realistically, not everything will always be possible, but nobody can tell what exactly that may be, and I thought that the point I’m at right now was unachievable. Two years ago, I was probably sitting in the same spot I’m sitting in at the moment, frustrated that I was making much too invisible progress—if any at all— and today, I can’t even explain the feeling of catharsis this provides. It hasn’t been the best day, week, month or year, and that’s the most sugarcoated understatement of the century, but despite everything, I feel almost relieved right now. Maybe it won’t last me until tomorrow, maybe it won’t get me through the week, but it was all still worth it for this moment. Even if all this time and effort meant I’d spend just one single evening feeling a tiny bit lighter…I think I’d do it again and again.

On a side note…perhaps, somewhat ironically, the reason my past self was so unmotivated and miserable is actually the reason I’ve gotten here now, in a strange way…I’ve never paid for classes, barely ever spoke to anyone from Japan, only ever kept a Duolingo streak alive to at least face the language one single time per day for less than a minute, and I pretty much studied grammar and vocabulary whenever I felt like it instead of having a set time every day for it. If that meant going weeks and months without looking at it much, so be it, I always made it something I actively chose to do at any given moment instead of doing it out of necessity. Considering I’m…well…very, very prone to burning out terribly fast, as I’ve come to find out in the most unfortunate of ways, even having a class weekly would start feeling like a stressful necessity to me I’d get tired of, but this way, albeit very slowly and frustratingly enough at times, I ultimately never truly gave up on it and never lost even the slightest ounce of interest through means out of my control, and…it still got me somewhere. Slowly, quickly, doesn’t matter— in the end, I can see I’ve gotten further than I ever believed I could, and perhaps it’s not much objectively at all, but even to someone like me, for once, it’s beyond enough.

Anyhow, do forgive the messy ramble. I private or delete most of my impulsive textposts, but perhaps I’ll keep this one for a bit longer, just for the sentiment. It’s…something to cling onto.

[passerine-writes]

Silent Sparks - Volt 23

Warnings: A little bit of trauma dumping Word count: 2200

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts Masterlist

Volt 22 | Volt 24

I got down to the arena, Iida standing in front of me.

"This is another battle between classmates, we have Tsukare Onryo! Versus, Iida Tenya!" The crowd roared while I devised a plan in my head, it's a one in a million but those seem to be my odds today.

"Tsukare, you're a good person and I apologize, but I have to win this." I smiled and sent him a thumbs up, catching him off guard.

I purposely stood closer to the back line then I would care to, but it was worth it when I saw his engines spark, knowing he would use his recipro again. Once I knew it would be too late for him to turn, I called out his name. The taller boy clutched his ears and veered off course, giving me just enough time to dive out of the way. He tried to pivot last second but his foot went over the line, something everyone saw.

"Tsukare advances!" I bowed towards Iida and Auntie Nem before taking my leave back to the class.

Multiple students congratulated me but I wasn't paying attention, I already know who I'm facing next without even watching this match. I'm going against Bakugou. The only person in the class I constantly seem to butt heads with, and I get to fight him.

You ready for this?

I'm not holding back.

That's not what I asked.

I don't want to get revenge, I want him to understand how hurtful everything he did is. How hiding behind money and praise can't save him. So yes, I'm ready.

Of course the pomeranian brings out the only ounce of aggression you have.

Never said he didn't.

Will you ever forgive him or at least stop letting him get on your nerves?

If he cleaned up his act or even at the very least made an effort then yeah, I would have a long time ago. Even if he gave a half assed apology I would be happy. He doesn't get to tell our best friend to end his life and treat him like shit for being even a little different and act like he deserves the world.

Yeah you have a point.

I have to go get ready for my next match.

Good luck.

"For our finalists we have two people from class 1-A! Everybody welcome out to the stage, Tsukare Onryo! Versus, Bakugou Katsuki!" I tuned everything out, getting in the zone because I knew I wasn't going to win.

He smiled darkly as he watched me, not wasting a moment to launch himself with an airborne attack. I ran as fast as I could, hearing the explosions behind me. My goal was to make him use up a decent amount of his energy on keeping himself in the air because at least I would have a shot. Even if it was a small one.

"You tired yet?" He laughed loudly at the level of sound I used.

"HAA? You think that level of noise is gonna hurt me, ear bleed!" I should have turned up the volume on that one now that I think about it. He is used to explosions being right next to his ears after all.

He went to send a right hook and I remembered what Midoriya told me. He always leads with one. Which also means, he's temporarily tired out from his explosions.

I caught his fist in my hand, completely catching him off guard. His eyes went wide and he coughed when I sent a kick to his side. He reacted quickly and grabbed my ankle, the both of us stuck in place for a moment before I grabbed his forearm with my other hand, the blond seething in pain. I took the chance to throw him back over my shoulder and land on his chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him. I rolled both of us over and held his wrists behind his back tightly. He groaned in pain as I dug my fingers into the small but of muscle.

A large explosion was sent off in my face and upper chest, sending me flying backwards onto the concrete and knocking me out as my head bounced off the concrete.

When I came to, I was ushered out to the arena once more to take second place. I cut off Auntie Nem as she started the speech, I didn't care that All Might flew down into the arena, the sight beside me made my blood run cold.

"Get it off of him! Now!" Bakugou was struggling on the first place podium, bound up and muzzled. My heart was beating out of my chest and I could see Hitoshi giving me a look from the class. The crowd fell silent as I spoke. "We're supposed to be heroes and heroes in training, this," I gestured to Bakugou, "this is inhumane. This is demeaning and horrific. I'm appalled that people still think this is okay. I don't care how he may have acted or what he said after I blacked out, this isn't how you treat another person." I climbed up to his podium and he stared at me. Yet I saw a glint of fear in his eye that I knew all too well. "Just relax and let me get this off of you, you can yell at me after the festival." I whispered to him as I worked on getting the muzzle off. It fell to the floor with a loud clash against the concrete and I willed myself not to panic as it rang in my ears. "Work with me for a second, it's quirk resistant for you so you won't be able to explode it off." He huffed but didn't protest. I worked on unbuckling the straps around him on the back of the podium. Slowly, I got the metal box off of him and his arms, tossing the hunk of metal off the concrete. Bakugou rubbed his forearms and wrists before stilling, sending me a curious look as I went back to my podium. "Carry on or whatever. I know All Might has to hand out the medals."

"Uh, right!" I rolled my eyes at the number one hero, he gave his speech to Tokoyami before heading over to me. He hung the silver medal around my neck and went to touch my shoulder until I glared at him. "Young Tsukare, you showed drive, strategy and good will just now. Be proud of how far you've come, you will make an excellent hero." He went to hug me but I stepped back.

"Don't touch me." He curtly nodded and went to Bakugou, the aggressive blond snatched the medal in his hand and glared at the ground.

When everything finished up, I hopped off my platform and walked out of the arena. I didn't wait behind for anyone to talk to me and congratulate me. I didn't wait to talk to anyone in my class, I just started walking back to the classroom, already knowing we had to review today.

"Nice work. You all have the next two days off from school to recuperate. I'm sure the pros who watched the festival will wanna recruit some of you. We'll look over the draft forms when you return. Get some rest. You still have a lot of training." I nodded and started packing my bag, knowing Dad and Toshi would want to check on me before we went home. However, once everyone left, Auntie Nem and Pops came in too.

"Onryo.." I shook my head as Auntie Nem spoke and started to head towards the door but Pops put a hand on my shoulder, gently and silently asking me to wait for a second. "I'm sorry you had to see that, I know it was hard." I shook my head as I let it drop and hang, keeping my eyes trained to the floor. "Please don't be mad at us."

"I'm not mad at Dad or Pops, if they even knew something like that would have happened they would have put a stop to it. I'm disappointed that you didn't even try." I turned and looked back at her, tears welling in my eyes. "If you did, then he never would have been muzzled. And you allowed it, even after everything we went through. You know everything that me and Hitoshi and Pops went through. One of your best friends. You know how many times we had those damned things on our faces! And you did absolutely nothing to stop it." Tears flowed wildly down my face but I didn't care. I was angry. "So I'm going home." Pops gave me a kiss on my temple and dropped his hand, watching as I walked out the door. I wiped my face as I walked through the halls, finally reaching outside only to roll my eyes as I saw Bakugou propped against a pillar and staring at me. "What do you want?" I kept walking and he kept pace with me.

"You didn't have to do that back there." I hiked my bag further up my shoulder and shrugged.

"I would've done that for anyone. Nobody deserves to go through that." I could feel him send a glance towards me.

"What, did someone put a damn muzzle on you or something? That why you're sensitive to it?" I glared at him.

"Yeah, it was personal, just like what you said to Midoriya last year and the way you treat him. All of it was personal." He cocked an eyebrow in confusion but we kept walking.

"I saw your arms, I'm not an idiot. So I figured that was why you gave me a black eye last year. Didn't know Aizawa and Mic muzzled their kids though." I stopped and turned to him, catching him off guard for a second.

"They don't, other foster families do though. And don't make me say it again, don't fucking bring up my parents in public, you know it's for a safety reason." He nodded sharply with a scowl and we kept walking.

"Just know I didn't mean to open any old wounds and shit." I nodded in turn and kept walking. "You better know I'm not taking this as a win." I rolled my eyes but felt my blood run cold as I caught sight of my birth mother, she was staring at me through a shop window.

"Keep walking and stay with me until we get to the train station or Mic gets here. Got it?" I pulled out my phone and dialed Pops' number, hoping he would answer fast.

"What, you're seriously scared of walking alone?" I shook my head and felt my body relax when he answered.

"Onryo, are you okay? You never call unless it's an emergency." I could hear the panic in his voice and tried my best not show mine.

"Pops, she's here and following me. I got Bakugou with me, we're on our way to the train station." The blond sent me an incredulous look as I spoke.

"I'll be there as soon as I can little listener. Sho and Toshi are in the car, we'll meet you at the station." I let out a shaky breath as we ended our call shortly after, keeping a watchful eye on my surroundings.

"Who the fuck is-" I smacked his arm and he glared at me but quieted down.

My birth mom is following us. Skinny lady, tall, long brown hair that's pin straight, her face is sunken in. She's been following us for the last two blocks at least.

How the hell did you notice that and who the hell told you that I know sign language.

Midoriya mentioned it when I asked if anyone else in the class signed. She's stalked me before, so I'm used to keeping an eye out for her when I'm not with my parents.

Fucking Deku.

Watch it. I could've put it together anyways, with how close the explosions are to your ears you'll probably need hearing aids by the time your thirty at the latest.

Whatever. So why's she following you?

None of your business. Just stick with me until we get to the station. She won't bother you.

He sighed but nodded, sticking with me until we got to the station and I got in the car.

"Never would have thought you and Bakugou would walk somewhere together." I scoffed at my Dads comment.

"He wanted to know why I took the muzzle off of him. I made him stick with me after I noticed her." The air was tense, for many reasons.

"So you like Kaminari?"

"I'm not dwelling on it, there's no guarantee it'll go anywhere or he would like me back or if he even likes guys. So I'm just taking it as it comes." Dad hummed at my statement.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." I nodded and rested my head on the window, ready for food and sleep.

[orcelito]

oh my noon class is canceled for tomorrow

mental illness canceled. im rockin

[bukojuiice]

— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character!  ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it!  after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist 

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you. 

–  He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

–  After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you.  But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

  –  His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

–  He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the  two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

–  His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him.  He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

—  Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

  —  There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time. 

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to  have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.”  Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

It's Golden Like Daylight | James Potter

Part 1 | Part 2

▹ Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Black!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Fluff

▹ Words: ~5k

▹ Summary: It was unexpected, but not at all unwelcomed the way James Potter left you wonderstruck.

▹ Notes: So this started as a small drabble, but now here were are. Sooo enjoy! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in P.2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The expectations placed upon you were stifling.

They wrapped their clawed fingers around your neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. It’s grip on you was iron, not wavering in the slightest. Yet you were powerless against it. Struggling only made it tighten, your gold cage getting smaller and smaller each day. It was fight or flight. Kill or be killed. Your world was cruel and treacherous to those not built for the pressure. But you thought yourself made of steel. It turned out, you were only glass, millions of spider web cracks that threatened to shatter you.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, when you had fallen so far from who you used to be. It was like walking down a hill that became steeper and steeper. But it wasn’t until you were falling off the cliff that you noticed anything amiss. And by then it was too late to do anything other than freefall.

You stared at your reflection, but you didn’t see yourself. It was similar, but just different enough to be unnerving. The same wild black hair, stormy gray eyes, and pale skin. But their features were much more masculine; nose stronger and jaw sharper. Your face was much softer; gentle like a woman should be. And while his eyes glistened with mischief, yours glimmered with unshed tears. Years of silent screams that were building under the surface, waiting to escape.

In the mirror, seeing Sirius reflected back at you, you saw yourself and everything you could’ve been.

He flourished, turning into a diamond under the pressure. He set himself free and started a new life.

You crumbled under the weight, molding yourself into whatever was wanted of you. All you craved was survival, but on most days even that seemed daunting. And you found yourself questioning if it was even worth it. Because was life really worth living if you couldn’t find a shred of light in the desolate darkness?

Two sides of the same coin. But he had courage while you were a coward. He was everything you’d hoped to be. But everything your mother loathed.

Stray tears fell from your eyes, carving a line in your face. It splattered on the vanity you were standing in front of, creating water marks on the wood. You reached a shaky hand up, wiping them away as they fell. You sniffled and cleared your throat.

‘Pull yourself together. You’re a member of the most ancient and noble House Black.’ You could hear your mother’s banshee voice in your head.

In your hand, you grasped a bottle of concealer so tight you would have broken the bottle. Unscrewing the top, you brought the applicator to your face and dotted it all over. With bare hands, you began to blend it out, using layers of makeup to cover the red blotches and bloodshot eyes. You smiled, making sure the facade was impenetrable. But the expression was weak, eyes not at all lit up like they should be. They were as dull and tired as you felt. But you kept trying, unwilling to let people see just how far you’d fallen.

A burning sensation flared to life on your left forearm. A hallucination of your fears manifesting. You wanted to scratch and itch until the skin ripped off. The phantom of the Dark Mark that was waiting for you at the end of the school year taunting you. It was only a matter of time before the nails hammered into your coffin. Then you’d be stuck forever, with no way out. Because who could care for the emotional turmoil of a Death Eater?

In a trance, you left your room to go to class. The first one of the day was Potions, the class you shared with Gryffindor. As usual, you were one of the first people in the class. You took a seat in your normal spot, opening a notebook as you got lost in your thoughts. A few minutes later, people began to filter into the room, until the room was full.

The students around you chattered loudly with one another. But you were silent, intent to focus on your notebook. You weren’t there, not even on the same planet as everyone around you. As always your mind was elsewhere, detached from your body. Nothing was real and everything lacked meaning. It was the only way to survive.

Sirius was sitting on the other side of the room with his friends, boisterous as ever. In an exaggerated manner he waved his hands, shouting at his friends with a mischievous grin on his face. James Potter sat beside him, matching his energy perfectly. They were like two peas in a pod. And you couldn’t help but reminisce when that had been your spot. Before you went to Hogwarts and everything went to Hell.

Green and red created a sea that separated the two of you. And you couldn’t figure out how to cross it. But you wanted to, desperate to rekindle the tight bond you’d had at the tiny age of ten. But your pride held you in place, wrongful blame placed on him for leaving you all alone in that large house. He ran and never looked back, no hesitation. He left you to pick up the pieces, left you and Regulus both.

If you were thinking clearly you'd be understanding. If you didn't let irrational emotions control you, at least. But you hadn’t had a grasp on your sanity since you fell down this pit.

Sirius glanced in your direction, eyes meeting for a brief second. His eyes flashed with what almost looked like regret. But as soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced with cold indifference. In his mind you were the exact same as your mother. A lost cause he shouldn’t waste his time on. And even after all this time it still stung as if it were the first time.

He looked away, muttering something to his friends. James Potter leaned back, eyes locking with yours. His gaze was much the same as Sirius’ had been before he locked it away with a mask of indifference. It made your pride wilt, the pity in his eyes. It made you feel indignant. You didn’t need his pity, you didn’t need anyone.

A perfectly practiced scowl appeared on your lips, and you looked away. You slipped into the role of the blood purist Slytherin. You should’ve won an award for your acting abilities for how good you've gotten at this act. Shortly after Slughorn came waltzing in, beginning class in an instant.

The rest of the hour was a blur, and before you knew it, everyone around you was packing up their things to leave. You did the same, starting to stand from your desk. In a flurry of movements and loud chatting, your brother and his friends passed by your desk.

And when they were gone, a small note sat untouched on your desk. Crumpled after being held in a closed fist, the scribbling was undeniably James Potter’s. You glanced over the note over and over again until the words sunk in.

My home is always open if you need a way out.

- James Potter

OoO

It was long past curfew. You should’ve been in bed, sound asleep, but instead you were wandering the halls. It wasn’t without purpose however, as you intended to find James Potter. As per his Head Boy duties, he should be patrolling the halls for any rulebreakers. But the halls were quiet, in a way that left you unsettled. You were on edge, watching every shadow with paranoia twinkling in your eyes. The only sound was the echoing of your footsteps. It ricocheted off the walls and followed your every move, making it feel like the walls were closing in on you.

It was 11:56 PM, and you swore you wouldn't stay out past midnight. But you found yourself going back on your own promise. You needed Potter to answer the question that wouldn't leave your mind since Potions class. Since you read that note he left for you.

'Why?'

And it seemed your hopes came to fruition as you turned into a seemingly empty hall.

“Black. It’s past curfew.”

Speak of the devil.

You turned with a flourish, the secure bun your hair was in keeping it from flowing behind you. Subconsciously, you reached for your wand, yet you relaxed when you realized it was James. If he wanted to hurt you, he would’ve already.

While the two of you had a tendency to exchange venomous insults at all hours, it never went physical. It seemed the disdain was one sided, with you being the viscous one. If anything James seemed entertained by your daily interactions.

He was standing at the end of the hall, so far you couldn’t see his face. But you knew it was him, his voice was too indistinguishable. The way he said everything with confidence and ease, as if he hadn’t had a care in the world. His hair was messy, but that was nothing new.

“I know. I was looking for you.” You made no move to step closer to him, but neither did he. The two of you were in a standstill, waiting for the other to react.

“Staying out past curfew for me? You shouldn’t have.” His shoes clicked against the marble floor as he walked towards you. His long legs closed the distance between you far quicker than expected. His gait was more like a strut, arms lazily hanging in his pockets with an easy smirk on his lips.

“And now I wished I hadn’t.” There was no venom in your voice, you didn’t have any willpower to put on a show. You bit the inside of your cheeks, tapping your toes against the floor.

“Oh, you’re wounding me here, love.” He stopped, only a few feet separating them. “Now what was it you wanted to say?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, reminding yourself why you were even there. All the hours you spent trying to decipher what the angle could be. Was it a sick joke, an elaborate prank they were planning? That if you took the bait they’d pull the rug out from under you, laughing at your foolish nativity.

“Why?” It was a whisper, but it was thundering in the quiet hall.

James’ brows furrowed and his lips pursed into the smallest pout. Small creases formed on his forehead as he squinted his eyes in concentration. Like it would make everything make sense.

“Why what?”

You took a deep breath, an attempt to soothe your nerves.

“You offered for me to stay with you. Why?”

The lines on his forehead got deeper, and he shuffled his feet causing his body to sway. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Why wouldn’t I? You're my best mate’s sister,” he said.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Because in all the years you’d know James Potter, you were nothing but callous and cruel. Snide remarks and snarky insults were all you ever gave to him. You’d insulted him, his family, his friends, anything you could.

Because when your relationship with Sirius went sour, you took it out on him. He was an easy target to blame. It was easier to accept that he had turned Sirius against you. Because the alternative was that Sirius’ disdain was from no outside influence. And that realization stung like lemon and salt on a wound. So you blamed it on James, as unreasonable as it was.

That inner turmoil then led to you being viscous in hopes it could cover the pain. Using fury to hide tear stains on your cheeks from the night before. And you thought you’d done a fairly good job.

"I've been nothing but horrible to you," you said with more force behind your words.

"Not anything I can't handle. Plus I've come to enjoy our little daily squabbles," James said. “It’s like a caffeine boost for me, just without the bitterness.”

"That doesn't explain why" You continued to argue, but knew you were grasping at straws. "And don't you dare say it's because I'm Sirius' sister. He could care less about me."

James watched you for a moment, an expectant stare in his eyes. He could see the doubt and confusion in your eyes. The apprehension to accept that his offer was anything other than a genuine attempt to help.

“That's not true. Sirius cares," he said, running his hand through his hair again. "Which means I care by association.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"He doesn't act like it."

“Same could be said to you.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, refusing to accept his answer. He was right of course, but pride was a nasty thing. You’d cut off your nose to spite yourself if given the chance.

James shrugged his shoulders with an air of nonchalance. The teasing grin on his face returned with a vengeance. And you wanted to be infuriated that he seemed so amused by your frustration.

“Plus, it's not like you’ve made that easy.”

Your lips downturned into a scowl as you leveled a glare that could burn ice. James held his hands up in surrender, his airy chuckled echoing in the hall.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s not his fault you’ve played the part of Slytherin Blood Purist to a T,” he said. He flippantly waved his hands in your direction as to further emphasize his words.

Your scowl deepened, yet the nerves in you got worse. If he could see cracking under pressure, did that mean everyone else did?

“And how do you know it’s an act?” Your narrowed eyes were trained on him, impatiently waiting for the next words he’d say. James shrugged his shoulders again. A sliver of silver light from the moon filtered in through the window, illuminating his eyes.

“You're here talking to me, aren’t you?”

His words gave you pause, silencing whatever expertly crafted lie you prepared. And for once, you found yourself silenced. But it didn't last for long.

"I don't want your pity," you said, spitting out the words.

"Not pity, just a helping hand."

His cool composure only further infuriated you. You wanted a fight, for him to fight back, not just disarm every barb you tossed at him.

"Maybe I don't want or need your hand," you said, not stopping to determine if your response made sense.

"Then don't take it. Just know it's there." He paused, carefully considering his next words. "I just...I know how bad it was for Sirius and I want you to know you don't have to stay there. You have an option."

The lines on your forehead got deeper as you contemplated his words. Your mother had always been harsh, only getting worse when Sirius ran away. Yet she never showed you the disdain she had for him. But you also knew it wasn't impossible for that to change. One slip up, that was all it'd take, and you'd be nothing but a stain to the family name. It was something you always knew. Yet having it forced to the forefront of your mind, it left you dumbstruck.

When it became clear you wouldn’t say anything else, James let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Now off to bed, it’s past curfew and I don’t want to have to dock points from Slytherin.”

Then he was gone, shoes clicking on the ground, the sound growing quieter the further he walked. At some point he began to whistle as he strutted down the hall, a satisfied grin on his face. James Potter was seemingly satisfied that he left you stunned. After six long years of constant arguments, he finally got the last word.

Eventually you turned and made your way back to the Slytherin common room. You got into bed, staring at the ceiling as you went over your conversation with James. Technically, you succeeded in your goal for the night. You just didn’t anticipate his answer would leave you with more questions. And those questions made your head hurt.

OoO

It had been a week since your last encounter with James. Outwardly, you acted as if nothing had changed, and so did he. Though your barbed comments weren’t as sharp and the scowl on your face seemed less icy. He'd been kind to you, unexpectedly so. He offered you a place to run to, if things ever got out of control. It was genuine and honest, no hidden catch or trick. Something you weren't entirely sure you'd reciprocate if the roles were reversed.

Everything in your brain was muddled and confused. Leading to you sitting in the Astronomy Tower staring at the night sky.

The wind was bitter as it gently blew past your skin. It sent shivers through your whole body. The cold caused you to pull your jacket a little bit closer in hopes of keeping warm. Your hair was loose, getting picked up and blown about by the wind. Yet you didn’t mind it, it made you feel free. Something about the cold air against your rosy cheeks making you feel invincible.

Heavy footsteps approached your still form. You turned, expecting a teacher or prefect to come up the stairs, a punishment on the tips of their lips. Yet you were surprised to see James Potter walk up the last step. He wore the same grin and cool confidence he always had. His hair was messier than ever, his Gryffindor tie loosened and uniform disheveled.

“Fancy running into you here Black,” James said. He crossed to the other side of the platform, taking a seat directly by you.

“Following me, now are you Potter,” you said, a slight scowl on your lips.

“As I remember, you were looking for me last night,” James said.

“And now you came looking for me.”

You turned to meet his gaze, a neutral expression resting on your face. He wiggled around for a moment, trying to get into a comfortable position, growing still once he did. A particularly strong gust of wind blew over the two of you. A You shivered, curling deeper into your jacket. James - who had no jacket, only his uniform robes - his teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms around his body.

“You’re not wearing a jacket,” you said in a monotone voice.

He chuckled, shaking his head and curling closer into himself.

“Didn’t think this out too well, did I?” he said, a sardonic grin on his face. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold, making him almost appear childlike. The similarities were only further confirmed by the glimmer in his eyes that rivaled the stars in the sky.

Your heartbeat sped up ever so slightly, yet you rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. You lifted up your wand, muttering a quiet incantation.

“What are you--” James began to say, but cut himself off as warmth flooded his veins. It felt like he’d been wrapped up in the thickest blanket, keeping him fuzzy and warm. “Thanks.”

“Can’t have you turning into an icicle. I’ll get detention,” you said with a slight eye roll. James could see the upward curl of your lips, betraying the mirth behind your stony glares.

“Oh admit it Black, you’d miss me if I was gone.”

Despite yourself, a chuckle left your mouth, eyes returning to the night sky.

“Oh of course, Potter. Who else would I relentlessly bully if you were gone?” The question was rhetorical, but it didn’t stop James from answering as if it weren’t.

“Snivellus?” he said, brows raised with a mirthful grin on his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“Sorry Potter, don’t think it would be the same.”

James shrugged, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Good, let’s keep it that way. It guarantees my safety,” James said.

Another soft laugh left your mouth, eyes tracing the constellations in the sky.

“So why haven’t you casted your body heating charm on yourself?” James asked, watching you bundle closer into your jacket. You shrugged, contemplating his question in your mind.

“I like the feeling of the cold air. It’s refreshing.” You inhaled deeply, shutting your eyes for a brief moment. This was the only place you’d felt completely relaxed. All your woes and anxieties melted away as you counted and recounted every star in the sky. It reminded you of the nights you and Sirius stayed up, pointing out the constellations you remembered.

Sitting on the Astronomy Tower late at night reminded you of simpler times. You were painted light blue with melancholy, shining under the silver light.

James snorted, running his hand through his hair and shaking it.

“I’m sure it is, especially after being in the dungeons for so long.”

You wanted to disagree with him, if for no reason other than to disagree. But he was right. Being in the dungeons was suffocating. But the Slytherin common rooms weren't much better. Constantly surrounded by families like yours. The knowledge that each move you made was watched. It was a snake pit and people were always looking for a leg up, no matter the damage it caused.

You didn’t respond, just simply nodding your head.

James turned his attention to the night sky, attempting to recall all the constellations. But their names and locations eluded him. He didn’t come from your family, where Astronomy was beaten into your head from an early age. Plus he never cared too much to memorize it all. But as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, watching the awe and serenity on your face, he wanted to know every little detail there was.

If only to have a reason to continue talking to you. And perhaps have the opportunity to impress you. He just wasn’t sure why he wanted to do that.

He pointed a finger at the brightest star in the sky.

“That one’s Sirius,” he said, a proud grin on his face for remembering. You turned your head and he did as well, your eyes meeting. The blank mask you always wore had all but fallen off, allowing bright eyes and a soft smile to shine through.

And he was taken aback for a moment as he stared at your face. Because were you always this beautiful. Sure, undeniably you were attractive, one of the few good traits you’d inherited from your family. But, it had always been cold and distant; a daydream that you’d never have. And now, you looked sweet and soft, like a gentle breeze in the middle of summer.

And he had to smother the urge to run his finger through your hair.

You hand wrapped around his arm, gently moving it until his finger pointed slightly to the left. But you kept your hand on his, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

“That was just a random star. That one is Sirius,” you said, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. It was nearly identical to how Sirius’ looked at all times, aggressively reminding James you two were twins.

“Yeah I knew that, I was just testing you.” His words were slightly stuttered, mouth growing dry the moment you touched his hand.

You both knew he was lying, the faint flush on his face exposing that, but you didn’t argue with him. It would be harmless to let him have this small victory.

“Do you know where Andromeda is?” you asked. James silently shook his head, eyes locked on yours. You guided his hand to the right, stopping a few moments later. “It’s right there. See it?”

James looked away from your eyes, focusing on where his finger was pointed. He could see anything but vague star shapes, but he wouldn’t say that. He didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening. He was enjoying your company far too much for that.

“Yeah, I think,” he said. He felt your grip loosen, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to keep holding your hand as long as possible. “Wh-what about Aries? That’s my birth sign, according to Peter at least.” His words were frantic and rushed, and he hoped you didn’t notice his desperation in his voice.

But you seem unphased, simply looking around the sky for a few seconds. Then, just as before, you began guiding his hand to where the constellation was.

“Right--” you began to say. “--there.”

He nodded his head, the flush on his face getting deeper the longer you held his hand. But he rather enjoyed the way his heart sped up.

“What about Scorpius? That’s your sign, right?” James asked. You nodded, pointing his finger to the right cluster of stars.

“What’s the sudden interest in Astronomy, Potter?” you asked in a gentle voice.

“I guess I just realized how beautiful the stars are,” he muttered.

He turned to look at your face, your eyes already on his face.

“They are nice to look at,” you said, realizing his chocolate brown eyes had flecks of gold hidden in them. They glistened under the silvery light, almost ethereal in appearance. As James had a similar realization a few minutes prior, it occurred to you just how attractive he was.

The way his messy brown hair fell in haphazard curls. The mirthful smirk that was ever-present on his full pink lips. He was tall and well built from years of playing Quidditch, he wasn’t too bulky nor too lanky. He smelled intoxicating too: like broom wax, bergamot, and the musk from his cologne.

“I’ve seen nicer.” His grin was lopsided and wide, his eyes turning into small crescent moons. "You for example are nice to look at."

‘Is he…flirting?’

You cocked your head to the left slightly, brows furrowed. Your face heated up, burning despite the cold air. Something about the way he was looking at you and the grin on his face made you think he was talking about you. And despite how cheesy the line was it made you giddy. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve hexed them to oblivion, yet James made it seem sweet. And you didn’t fully understand why.

This was James Potter after all, you’d never once even considered him as anything other than a nuisance.

And yet…

Before they could fully form, you banished the notion of feeling anything other than contempt for him. James Potter had made it abundantly clear since first year, the girl of his dreams was Lily Evans. He was relentless, never stumbling no matter how many times she rejected him. And you wouldn't put yourself in a precarious situation. Where you're pining after a man who never saw you as anything more than a snake.

“That was cheesy, even for you, Potter.”

He lowered his left eyes into a wink, grin turning cheeky.

“Is it if it’s the truth?” he asked.

“Yes.” Your tone was deadpan, lips in a thin line, but he could see how your eyes shone with giddiness. You felt like a little girl with her first crush. Your stomach nervously fluttered, heartbeat speeding up. You simultaneously hated and loved the sensation.

He let out a sigh of feigned disappointment, mock offense appearing on his face.

“You wound me so, my lady.”

“I can do more than wound you, Potter.” While the words should’ve been harsh, they lacked any venom. Your voice was quiet and soft as the mile high walls encasing you slowly crumbled.

“I’d be flattered to be the subject of such activities,” James said.

You laughed, this one louder than James had ever heard from you. And you couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed like this. So genuine and bright and sweet. Like the finest symphony. And you never thought James Potter would be the one to elicit such a response from you.

Playfully you slapped his chest, finally letting go of his hand. You stood from your spot, offering a hand to help James up as well.

"I don't think that's normal," you said.

"Normal is boring," was his only response.

“Well, while you contemplate all the things that are wrong with you Potter, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

James took your outstretched hand, yet he continued to hold it even after standing.

“Goodnight, Sunshine,” he said.

You raised a single brow at him, perturbed by the nickname.

“Sunshine?”

“Because of your sunny disposition,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“I--"

“And don't try to fight it. I've already decided on it,” he said in a teasing tone. You chuckled, silencing the noise behind a closed mouth grin.

“Goodnight Potter,”

“Goodnight.”

“You already said that,” you said.

“As did you.”

“Then I guess we’re even,” you said, slowly unraveling your hand from his. Slowly, you walked towards the stairs. And as you made your way through the castle, slipping into your common room, your cheeks burned. There was a fluttering sensation in your chest you weren’t used to. A slight bounce present in every step you took as you basically danced through your room.

And as much as you wished it weren’t true, you couldn’t deny it.

James Potter left you enchanted.

You just hoped he wasn’t still in love with someone else.

[myherowritings]

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?” 

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.” 

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded. 

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh. 

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot.��

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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