#it’s also been a hot minute since i’ve actually tried following a story’s events! might be fun

[mangoisms]

what’s in my brain today. Ummmmm. the old jason fic. scratching my brain more than usual. slightly newer stuff but kind of not really poly timtam and a partial rewrite of red robin 2009 for it………….

[marjansmarwani]

like I was already brave enough to let go

7.2k || Chapter 1/2 || ao3

Enzo understands that leaving New York in the wake of everything is what's best for TK, but that doesn't make it any easier. Watching his stepson pack up all his broken pieces and move across the country hurts him in ways he can't describe, mostly due to the knowledge that there will be a distance between them that has never existed before. So he takes the time to check-in, to keep track of TK. To be there for him, no matter what.

He's just starting to wish that he had picked somewhere other than Austin, because he is quickly discovering he is not built for this level of stress.

After reading @futures-tense’s Enzo fic (that everyone should read, it is phenomenal) I couldn’t get thoughts of him and his relationship with TK out of my head, so naturally I wrote this. It fits into canon evetns and this is only chapter 1 of 2, because while I so have an outline for season 2 events, this was getting long so I figured I’d at least post what I had. 

Massive thanks to @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon for all their help and support with this, you’re both the best!

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

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when TK opened his apartment door, but the sad shell of the boy Enzo had come to love as his own wasn’t it. 

Or maybe it was, but it hurt all the same. 

“Hey kid,” he said softly, stepping carefully around him and into the apartment. He looked around the small space, taking in all the boxes haphazardly labeled and partially packed. “So, it’s true. Your mom told me but I don’t think I believed her. Never thought I’d see the day TK Strand willingly left New York for Texas, of all places.” 

“Who says it’s willingly,” he said dully as he shut the door behind Enzo. 

Enzo turned and studied him more closely, taking in the downturned eyes and anxious fingers thumbing the seam of his hoodie pocket, “Do you not want to go? Because you can stay here. I’ll talk to your mom, you can stay with us if you…” 

But TK cut him off with a shake of his head, “No,” he said, “I think I need to do this. Dad’s right, I need a fresh start. I can’t...I don’t think I can be here anymore. When I think of staying here, I don’t see a way forward. I think if I stayed here I’d…” he trailed off, but Enzo felt a chill rush through him at the implication of what TK hadn’t said. He tried to meet his eyes but TK looked away, casting his gaze downward and away from Enzo’s sympathetic eyes. 

It hurt him more than he could say to see TK like this. For all his struggles he had always been a happy kid. He had always been someone who found the joy in life where he could and he had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, for better or worse. Seeing him like this and knowing what had happened hurt Enzo in ways he couldn’t fully describe because he didn’t know the right words. All he knew for sure is that this was not the TK he had known and loved for 16 years standing before him. This was a stranger; someone he had only seen once before during a time he had hoped to never revisit. 

He hadn’t asked what happened because he knew enough and he wasn’t about to make the kid revisit it just so he could fill in some blanks. He might not know everything but he knew enough to feel hot anger course through him at the thought of someone breaking that too big heart of his. TK had always been someone who loved fully and completely, and to see that thrown back in his face so spectacularly made Enzo—a typically steady and calm man — strongly consider homicide. 

He had every confidence that Gwyn could get him out of any charges too, but he pushed that thought aside to focus on the scene before him.  

“This isn’t your fault, TK.” 

TK turned away from him, absently picking up some books from the table and dropping them into one of the boxes. “I know I didn’t make Alex cheat,” he says eventually, “but the rest of it? That is completely on me Enzo, no one else.” 

He could sense that the kid had more to say so he let him go, watching from the doorway as he listlessly picked up other odds and ends from around his apartment, tossing them into boxes without any real care as to what the labels on the side said. He knew TK would speak up when he was ready and it was only a few more minutes before he did. 

“Eight years,” he finally said, his rough voice breaking the silence of the half-packed apartment. “Eight fucking years of sobriety, all gone. And that’s all on me. It doesn’t matter what Alex did, I’m the one who made the choice. I am the one who let him have that power over me and…” he broke off, meeting Enzo’s eyes for a moment before looking away and swallowing. “I do need to leave,” he said eventually. “I don’t trust myself to stay here anymore. I don’t know if I’d survive it.” 

Enzo could feel his heart breaking for the kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore — now 26 and an adult — but in Enzo’s eyes sometimes he was still the 10-year-old who met his eyes shyly when Gwyn first introduced them, the 14-year-old who had admitted to him in a terrified whisper that he thought he might like boys, the 19-year-old who had come to him because he wanted to enroll in the fire academy and didn’t know how his mother would take it. The feeling he had now was just like the feelings he had had then. This overwhelming love and desire to protect him from everything bad in the world; from anyone that ever told him he wasn’t enough. 

And just like he had then, he stepped forward, closing the space between them to pull him into a hug. He held him close, pressing his face into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re making the smart choice then,” he said evenly. “And, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you for doing what you have to do. You’ve beat this once and you’ll beat it again, I have no doubt about that.” 

He knew he wasn’t imagining it when the body in his arms sagged in relief. It made him clutch him that much tighter as he spoke again, hoping what he was about to say was a given but needing to say it anyway:  “And I will always be here for you, no matter where you live. I’m always just a phone call away, you know that, right?”

TK’s voice was muffled by the material of Enzo’s sweater, but he could still hear the tears in it clear as day, “I do.” 

“Good,” Enzo replied firmly, releasing his grip on TK and stepping back so he could meet his eyes. “Because I will be calling to check-in, that is a promise.” 

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

Watching him leave was bittersweet, but he believed TK when he said it was something he needed to do. He took some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Enzo and Owen Strand may have had their differences over the years (many, many differences) but if there was one thing Enzo had never doubted it was the other man’s love for his son. He knew that TK was in good hands, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

He got confirmation they had arrived in Austin in the form of a text that included a picture of a shop selling cowboy hats that simply said, “turns out people actually do where these here. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.” It is followed by another two days later that noted the crimes Texas has committed against pizza and though Enzo was still filled with worry, he allowed himself to smile and take it as a sign that he was healing, be it ever so slightly. 

He gave it almost a week before he called. He wanted to hear TK’s voice; to have proof that he really was okay, but he also wanted to give him time. His patience was helped by the fact that Gwyn had spoken to her son but eventually, he decided that he needed to hear from him himself.  

TK answered by the third ring, sounding out of breath. He greeted him warmly, and Enzo could hear the commotion of construction in the background. He raised an eyebrow, “What, did you decide to leave the fire department and become a contractor when I wasn’t looking?” 

This pulled a laugh out of TK and Enzo took a moment to savor the familiar sound. It felt like far too long since he’s last heard it. 

“No. Dad decided we should re-do the firehouse, to give everyone a fresh start. I figured I might as well help out. Besides,” he added with a shrug Enzo could almost hear, “demolition is the far healthier method of coping with feelings, right?” 

“When done with permission,” Enzo quipped in response. “How are you doing kid, has the pizza chased you away yet?” 

TK scoffed, “No, but it was a close thing. Honestly, I really haven’t had that much time to dwell. I’ve been helping with the demo and construction, as well as the candidate interviews and paperwork. I haven’t really taken too much time to think about anything.” 

TK said it matter of factly and Enzo almost moved past it. But he knew TK better than most. “You don’t have to punish yourself, kid,” he told him gently. “All you need to do is heal.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” TK objected, “I’m just...trying to keep busy. To distract myself.” 

TK might very well think that, but Enzo was pretty sure it wasn’t true. But he was willing to move past it, for now. 

“Tell me about the new crew,” he said instead, and smiled as TK launched into stories about a daredevil from Miami and a possible psychic from Chicago. He seemed enthusiastic and Enzo didn’t realize how good it felt to hear that until he had. It was like there was a little bit of life back in his voice and though he knew TK still had a long way to go to make this better, he was relieved to see that he was at least on the way. 

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

For a while, everything seemed to be going great. TK called and texted him from time to time, sharing anecdotes from calls and his new crew, and each time Enzo thinks he can hear just a little bit more of his old self returning to his voice. Sure he complains about one of them, for a while, but that too seems to sort itself out. 

He could tell there is someone new in his life too, even if TK is hedgy about it at best. But Enzo was the first one to know that TK was gay at 14; he knew how to spot the signs. 

“Why won’t you tell me about him?” he asked him one day, voice light and teasing as he stuffed his papers into his bag. “Is there something horribly wrong with him?”

“No,” TK countered emphatically, “there is nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing,” he added, almost an unconscious mutter Enzo was not entirely sure he was supposed to hear. 

“So if there is ‘absolutely nothing’ wrong with him, why aren't you going for it?” 

There was silence on the other end as Enzo slid his bag onto his shoulder, patiently waiting the younger man out. 

“You know why,” he eventually said, voice low and sad. Enzo grimaced at how pained his voice sounded and he dropped back into his desk chair with a sigh.

“TK…” he began, but the younger man cut him off firmly. 

“No, Enzo. I...I thought I could. I thought we could have something casual and that I could handle it. But then he wanted more and I hurt him. I don’t want to do that, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s too good to get dragged into my shitshow.” 

“Have you asked him what he wants?” Enzo asked gently. 

The bark of laughter TK gave at that was sharp and harsh, “Yeah, that should go well. Definitely won’t lead to me having to explain to this guy I’ve hooked up with a handful of times all the ways I’m fucked up right now.”

Enzo sighed again, leaning back in his chair, “It won’t always be like this, T. Someday you will be ready to try again, but only if you let yourself consider the possibility. Can you at least promise me that?”

There was silence for a long stretch and Enzo was about to ask him again when TK’s voice finally responded quietly, “Yes.” 

“Good,” Enzo responded firmly, “because no matter what happened, you still deserve happiness. And someday you’ll be ready to let it in again — maybe sooner than you think.” 

The sound of acknowledgment TK made sounded skeptical at best, but Enzo would take it. He knew he was right and he knew that someday TK would realize it too. Maybe even sooner than he thought. 

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

It’s about a week later when Enzo’s phone rings, nearly making him jump as he is pulled abruptly from his stack of midterms. It took him a few moments of shuffling blue books to even locate his phone and when he did he frowned at both the time and the name displayed on the screen. 

“Hey kid,” he said lightly as he answered the phone, “what’s up?” 

He had hoped he was overreacting, that TK was just calling him late because he was on shift and had lost track of the time. He had hoped that maybe the universe was finally giving the kid a break. 

The despair and fear so clear in TK’s voice quickly prove him wrong.  

“Hey Enzo,” he said softly, “fuck, I know it’s late and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just really needed to talk to someone.” 

“You are never a bother,” Enzo told him firmly, capping his pen and setting it down on his desk. “What’s wrong?” 

“I…” TK began before stopping, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I don’t know for sure yet, but I know something is.”

And Enzo believed him. The fear in his voice is so raw Enzo could feel every ounce of it even from a timezone away. “I’m going to need more than that, kid,” he told him gently, leaning back in his chair as he waited TK out. 

“I found something,” TK said eventually, “that I definitely wasn’t supposed to find. And it means something awful. Something I don’t know if I can handle. But it also means he doesn’t trust me,” TK continued, “and somehow that almost feels worse.”

Enzo frowned, pondering all the non-specific details in his mind. He didn’t know all that much about his stepson’s life in Austin, but he knew enough to know that while he was close to his new crew, he wasn’t close enough to be this upset by an omission from one of them. That left him with two possibilities: the mysterious man he was not seeing, or Owen. 

And Enzo knew which option was more likely and it made his heart sink. TK might not be sharing but Ezno knew both the Strand men better than most. If there was something Owen felt strongly enough to keep from his son that TK was this upset about, it wasn’t good news.

“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” he said cautiously, “but is it something about your dad?” 

There was a deep, shuddering breath before TK responded, “Yeah.” 

And Enzo shut his eyes, the hurt and fear in TK’s voice telling him all he needed to know. 

“I don’t know what this is about,” he said eventually, “and you don’t have to tell me. But I do know you, and I know whatever it is you are going to want to be there for him, because that’s who you are. Let him know that, and the rest will follow from there.” 

There was silence again, but Enzo waited TK out. He was familiar with this rhythm; when something was bothering TK he often took his time to make sure he had the words right before he spoke. Over the years Enzo had learned to wait him out knowing that he would get to his point when he was ready.  

He did a few moments later, “I do want to be there for him,” TK agreed, “I just know why he didn’t tell me. He doesn’t think I can handle it — and he’s right,” TK confessed softly, “I don’t know if I can.” 

“You can,” Ezno assured him firmly, “you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.” 

He let his words sink in for a moment before he added, “And I would talk to your dad before you make any assumptions. Let him know he can rely on you, let him know you want to be there.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” TK said dryly, and Enzo huffed a laugh. 

“In a way it is. It’s just words. It’s the actions behind them that are hard.” 

There was silence again before TK spoke, his voice so quiet Enzo almost missed his next words, “I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Enzo reminded him, “sometimes fear is the appropriate response.” 

But even as he said it, he could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t know what was going on and while he was sure he would find out soon enough, he couldn’t help but hate whatever it was. TK deserved some time to find himself, to heal and simply exist. He didn’t understand why the universe kept throwing such curveballs at him, but he wished with every fiber of his being it would stop. 

“Sometimes it is,” TK agreed in a tone that made Enzo wonder even more what this was all about. But he didn’t ask; TK would tell him when he was ready. For now he would just be here for him. Sometimes that was all he could do. 

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

As much as Enzo couldn’t help but worry about the younger man, sometimes the updates were a sign that things were getting better for him, slowly but surely. 

One such time came as he and Gwyn were sitting on the couch together, Enzo making a case for watching Jeopardy with Gwyn adamantly refusing. 

“No,” she said again with a firm shake of her head, “it always ends the same way.” 

He shrugged, “I can’t help that you’re too competitive, or that I’m better at it then you are,” he added, giving her a sly grin. 

“We can’t all have PhDs in history,” she said wryly, “some of us need to work for a living.” 

He opened his mouth to fire back a retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Saved by the bell,” he said instead with a shake of his head as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw the familiar name on the screen and turned it so Gwyn could see. 

“Hey T,” he said cautiously as he answered, “everything good?” 

There was a lot of noise in the background but he could hear TK’s voice clearly as he answered, “Yeah, I just had a question for you. These people don’t believe me so I need your cred as a Columbia history professor to back me up.” 

Enzo raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who had leaned closer to hear. She bit her lip against a laugh and he shook his head fondly, “I’ll do what I can. What’s the question?” 

“Hang on,” TK said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.” There was the sound of fumbling before the background noise grew louder and TK’s voice returned. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “this is my stepdad Enzo. He’s a history professor at Columbia and if you don’t believe me maybe you’ll believe him. You want to ask him the question, Paul?” 

“Man, you didn’t need to…” 

“No, this is a point of pride now.” TK objected indignantly and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to see that she had fully pressed a hand against her mouth to stop any laughter from slipping out and giving away her eavesdropping. “Ask him,” TK prompted and there was a sigh before a new voice joined the conversation. 

“Sir, we are so sorry to bother you. TK’s just being a sore loser.” 

“Paul, right?” Enzo asked and got a sound of confirmation in return, “You don’t have to tell me that, I helped raise him.” There was an indignant noise in the background, likely from TK, but Enzo ignored it. “What’s the question?” 

“Who invented the first movie camera?” 

“Louis Le Prince,” Enzo replied without hesitation, unable to suppress a chuckle at the sound of TK’s triumphant ha! In the background. “You guys thought it was Edison, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted sheepishly and Enzo chuckled lightly.

“That’s understandable. Edison was the first person to mass market it and the first to get recognized for it, but Le Prince was actually the first. But he mysteriously disappeared in 1890, right before he was set to take a trip to the US to talk about his invention. So he never got a chance to market it.” 

There was silence for a moment before Paul spoke again, “So is there any proof Edison had him killed or…?” 

“No,” Enzo admitted, “but that is one of the theories for sure. Another is his brother did it over the family will. Either way, Edison was not the first.” 

“Huh,” Paul said thoughtfully, “that’s actually fascinating. Dude, I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

“It’s fine,” TK said evenly, “I am more than a pretty face you know.” 

There was a collective snort from the other end of the phone and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to roll his eyes. She shook her head fondly and he returned his attention to the call, “Any other burning history questions or was that it?” 

The background noise lessened as TK took the phone off speaker. “No, that’s it. Thanks, Enzo.” 

“Anytime kid,” he told him, “you know I love to flex my random history facts.” That got another laugh out of TK, but Enzo could still hear the background noise of a group in the background. The sounds of easy comradery set his mind at ease in a way not much else had since TK had left for Texas. “Why don’t you get back to your friends and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, thanks again.” 

“Don’t mention it. I love you kid.” 

“Love you too. Say hi to mom for me?” 

“You’ve got it.” 

With that the call was over and Enzo was left back in their silent living room, Gwyn looking at him with a soft smile. 

“He sounds happy,” she said after a moment, her voice warm but thick. He nodded. 

“He does. As much as I do hate to admit it, I think going to Austin may have the best thing for him.” 

“You just hate that Owen was right.” 

“And you don’t?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well that’s a given,” she quipped, leaning closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed them as she rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s doing better,” she said softly after a moment, “I’ve been so worried about him.” 

“Me too,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. That sat in silence for a few more moments, each lost in their own thoughts before he spoke again. 

“So is that still a no to Jeopardy or…?”

She swatted at him and he grinned, ducking away from the light hit. Things seemed to have returned to their equilibrium, and that was a relief. 

He just hoped it stayed that way. 

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

When he was wrested from sleep by the shrill sound of his phone ringing cutting through the late-night silence of his bedroom, Enzo groaned. He swore under his breath as he fumbled for the device, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he did. But when he managed to grasp his phone and saw the name on the screen, all thoughts of annoyance fled his mind. Owen Strand calling him was rarely a good sign. Owen Strand calling him at 2 am promised nothing short of disaster. 

“Owen?” he said as he answered, skipping any and all attempts at pleasantries. “Is everything okay?”

He could afford to give the universe the benefit of the doubt, he decided; even if only for a moment. 

When Owen’s reply came it was in a voice Enzo didn’t recognize. It was shaky and uncertain in a way that the other man never was. 

“Enzo, hey. I’m sorry to bother you but Gwyn’s not answering her phone and…” he broke off with a shaky breath, “I really need to talk to her.” 

“She’s in Beijing,” Enzo replied, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside him. “And given the time difference, probably in a meeting.”

He heard Owen swear distantly before he felt fear rise up in him. Owen calling him at 2 in the morning looking for Gwyn and out of sorts only added up to one thing, but Enzo so hoped he was wrong. 

“Owen, did something happen to TK?” he forced himself to ask; the stress of not knowing was worse than anything else. 

He could hear Owen take another breath, deep and shaky and filled with something else Enzo couldn’t identify on a phone call from half a country away. 

“There was an...incident,” Owen said softly, voice still unsteady, “on our last call.”

Enzo’s mind was already spinning, stumbling from one horrible possibility from another. 

“There was a man with dementia who broke into his old house and a homeowner who had a cardiac event and TK broke down the door and….he was shot.” 

Enzo heard the words, he knew he did. But he couldn’t have. If he had heard them that would mean that TK had been shot and that was not something that could be true. His stepson was a firefighter. It was a profession that came with enough risks of its own. He had spent countless days worried and fearful at the thought of rescues gone wrong, of untamable flames and unstable buildings. Never once had he even entertained the thought of a bullet being a risk to watch out for. Bullets were supposed to be the problem of other people with other jobs — not his stepson, who already had so many dangers to face. 

But it was true. The fear and pain in Owen’s voice told him it was true. There was an edge of both hysteria and despair in his words and that more than anything scared Enzo more than he could say.

“Where?” was the first coherent thought he could form. 

“Just below his left shoulder” Owen repeated mechanically. “His...his lung collapsed before we were even out of the hallway. Enzo, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying but he couldn’t and there was so much blood....” Owen trailed off and Enzo could hear the unmistakable sound of a sob in the background even as his own hands trembled and his eyes watered. 

“Is he…” he started, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. He couldn’t speak the awful possibility into existence. 

“He’s headed to surgery,” Owen replied. “I don’t know anything more than that, we only got here about 15 minutes ago. I just...I just hope it was fast enough.” 

There was silence then as the two men allowed the same fear to consume them from opposite ends of the country. Enzo felt a morbid camaraderie with the other man in that moment. In the 16 years they had known each other it was safe to say that they had never exactly gotten along. They had always been polite and cordial for the sake of Gwyn, TK, and family gatherings but they were too different in too many ways that mattered to ever truly be friends. They had only ever agreed on one thing, and now that was the thing that tied them together — loving TK.  

“You got him there as fast as you could Owen,” Enzo assured him without hesitation because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it wasn’t true. “You did everything you could. Any chance he has is because of you.” 

“I think the credit lays more with the paramedics,” Owen objected, “but I appreciate the effort all the same.” 

Enzo opened his mouth again, not quite sure what he was going to say but feeling the overwhelming need to say something, but he was interrupted before he got the chance to figure it out. 

There was a noise on the other end followed by the sound of shuffling as Owen attended to whatever it was. When his voice returned, it was tight. 

“That’s Gwyn on the other line, I’ve gotta take it. But listen, Enzo…”

But Enzo just shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Owen, talk to her. Just, keep me updated?” 

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, “as soon as I know anything.” 

Then with another hurried goodbye, the call was over and Enzo was left in the dark and quiet bedroom, alone. It wasn’t long before the tears he had felt threatening began to fall in earnest as he wrapped his mind around this reality and allowed himself to dwell on it. There was a chance — a very real and terrifying chance — that they could lose TK. That Gwyn and Owen could lose the son they had brought into this world and loved for 26 years. That Enzo could lose one of the people he loved the most. The thought of TK not existing anymore was too horrible to dwell on. 

Enzo was a religious man. He had been raised by a small Jewish family in a large community and his faith had been something that he had always had. It had seen him through so much. But now, with this, he had to wonder. It didn’t make sense that TK — his wonderful, caring stepson who had dedicated his life to helping people — should have to suffer so much in such a short time on earth. It went against everything he had ever believed about putting good into the world. Why should TK — who had never done anything to hurt anyone — have to suffer so? Why should he? He didn’t want to know what life without TK looked like. 

More than anything, he hated that he might find out. 

When Gwyn called him a few minutes later he pushed his own tears aside. He murmured soft reassurances as she sobbed in a quiet corner of a Beijing office building, consumed with fear and grief a world away from her child who was slipping further and further from them with every passing moment. He gave her empty platitudes, reassured her the best he could. 

But all the while the fear was drilling a hole straight through his chest. This, he decided, was the worst fear he had ever felt. 

The worst part was there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope desperately for the best. 

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

The next several days were some of the longest of Enzo’s life. Each day he woke up and went about the day. Each day he kept his phone volume on, not wanting to miss any news either way. Each day an update came from Owen and each day it was the same: no change. 

He debated going out to Austin — he had been halfway through buying a ticket online half a dozen times — but each time he stopped himself. Logically he knew that being there wouldn’t change anything. He would still be waiting, he’d just be waiting there. He told himself he was needed here, that he couldn’t just pick up and go across the country with no warning. It was the end of the semester and he had students to help to finish the course or their dissertation. He told himself staying was the responsible option, but he knew that it was largely just a distraction. But he would take any distraction he could get and so he pushed the guilt of not being there to the side

He taught his classes, he went through the motions. He fielded calls from Gwyn, still stuck in China and frantic with worry. Each day he reassured her; reminded her that TK was strong, young, and healthy. Above all that, he reminded her, he was stubborn. No bullet or coma was going to take him from them before he was ready. 

Of course there was the private fear, the one he didn’t want to share, that he didn’t want to hang on anyone else. The one he was afraid to say out loud. 

It was the thought that maybe, after everything, that was exactly what he did want. That maybe this was an out and that maybe, he would take it. That maybe he didn’t want to be alive anymore. 

But that was a possibility too horrible to accept. Maybe it was selfish, but Enzo knew that even if that was the case, he wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be, but he certainly wasn’t now. He knew both Gwyn and Owen would agree. No time was a good time to lose your child — step or otherwise — but now, after this — after everything — was not the time. 

So he waited, and hoped. 

Time seemed to blend together and before he knew it one day had become two, which had stretched into four. Each moment passed the same way — tensely, with no news. 

He knew he had been distracted too — keeping his ringer on during class and checking in throughout his lectures and office hours. He had apologized to his classes after the second telemarketer had caused him to drop everything and lunge for his phone, citing a family emergency and word had slowly gotten around. Soon it wasn’t just him hoping for the best, but most of the Columbia history department as well. Their well wishes were touching, but nothing short of good news was going to make him feel any better. 

So when his phone did finally ring on a Thursday afternoon, 5 days after the fateful call, he picked it up with trepidation. The name on the screen sent his heart racing and he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to answer it. 

“Owen?” he asked tersely, “Any updates?”   

Because since that night they hadn’t spoken. All updates had come in the form of texts and the thought of Owen finally having something to tell him one way or the other simultaneously thrilled him and nearly froze him with fear. 

But it wasn’t Owen’s voice that answered. 

“Hey Enzo,” TK said, the sound of his voice rushing through Enzo’s body like a current of electricity. He sank back into his seat with a wobbly laugh, feeling nearly a week's worth of tension fall away as he listened to the miraculous sound of TK breathing on the other end of the phone. 

“Hey kid,” he said warmly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. How are you feeling?” 

“Okay,” he answered, “I really don’t feel too bad at all. A little sore, a little tired, but overall not bad.” 

“I hear getting shot will do that to you,” Enzo retorted drily before sighing and running a weary hand down his face. “You scared the shit out of me, TK,” he admitted. 

“Sorry,” TK replied softly, “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Enzo rushed to reassure him, “I know you didn’t ask for this to happen but...shit TK, I am not built for this. Do you think you could avoid getting shot in the future, for my sanity at the very least?” 

“I’ll try,” TK responded with a chuckle, “I don’t remember most of it but I don’t think it’s anything I want to revisit.”  

“No, I’d imagine not,” Enzo retorted wryly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and taking comfort from the presence of the other even if it was only over a phone call from half a country away. “So,” he finally said, leaning into normal conversation for the sake of normalcy, “is your dad driving you nuts yet?” 

“Yes,” TK responded emphatically, “he has been hovering non-stop, and he brought a date.” 

Enzo could hear indignant sputtering in the background and Owen muttering something about him not bringing a date, that his date had simply come to visit him to see how he was doing and, maybe because of all the fear and stress of the past week, Enzo could only laugh. 

“That sounds like your dad,” he retorted once he caught his breath, “and I wouldn’t count on that changing anytime soon.” 

“She seemed cool at least,” TK allowed, voice teasing, “I don’t know why he was trying to keep her a secret.”

“Excuse you,” Owen’s voice objected from the background, “I am not the one who had a hot cop sitting by my bedside. You don’t get to talk about keeping secrets.”

“Dad,” TK groaned and Enzo’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, so the mystery man is a cop,” he teased, “and the plot thickens.” 

Now it was TK’s turn to splutter, “Nope, we are not doing this. That is more than enough from both of you,” he declared and Enzo could hear Owen chuckling at his son’s indignation from the background. It was a slice of normal that he had feared he’d never get again. To be sitting here hearing TK’s voice, teasing him about something so simple as the guy he had a crush on seemed like a miracle and Enzo was grateful for it.

Everything was normal again, at long last. 

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

Sometimes he thinks that turning on news alerts for Austin was the worst decision he had ever made. 

It seemed practical, at the time. An easy way to stay in the know, to have an idea of what kind of calls TK may have seen on any given day. But now he was frozen in the middle of the hallway after one of his classes staring at a notification about a solar storm that had blasted through Austin, leaving devastation in its wake; regretting every decision that led him to this point. 

He knew TK was still on medical leave. He knew that he should be home and resting after only being released from the hospital two days before. But he also knew his stepson and knew that whenever there was trouble, TK was usually not too far behind. 

It was with that thought in his mind that he stepped out out the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall as he waited anxiously for the call to connect. The sound of a pleasant robotic voice informing him that his call could not be completed filled him with dread, but he forced himself to take a breath. It didn’t mean anything. The grid was likely overloaded right now; Enzo couldn’t say he knew for sure what kind of damage a solar storm could do but he was willing to guess that it wasn’t great for the electronic infrastructure. 

Left with no other options he went on about his day, the familiar anxiety he had only recently shed slipping back over him like a worn winter coat. He tried calling a few more times, trying to ignore how the dread in his gut grew each and every time the call didn’t go through. He resisted the urge to ask one of his science colleagues to explain the specifics of a solar storm; reasoning that dealing with his own uncertainty would be far kinder than having confirmed facts. At least this way, he decided, he could tell himself he was overreacting. 

It was far too many hours before his phone rang; an unfamiliar number appearing on his lock screen. He frowned at it but swiped to answer. He did list his cell number on all of his course syllabi, but for the most part his students stuck to his campus email, or — in desperate times — text. 

“Dr. Cohen,” he answered, mentally placing bets as to whether it was actually a student or a robot trying to inform him about the extended warranty of the car he didn’t own.

To his immense relief, it was neither. Instead, a familiar voice answered, sending a rush of relief through him at the sound, “Hey, Enzo, it’s me.” 

“TK,” he breathed, setting down the paper he had been reading and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” 

“More or less,” he answered sheepishly and Enzo was about to push for more than that when he caught the distinct sound of a hospital intercom in the background. 

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, are you in the hospital again?” he demanded and he heard a weary sigh from the other end before a quiet “yeah” was muttered. 

“It’s not a big deal though,” TK rushed to explain, “I’m fine. I just pulled my stitches.” 

There was another voice in the background that Enzo didn’t recognize and could barely hear, but what he could hear made it clear that the other voice was not impressed either. 

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” TK demanded, and Enzo was not entirely sure who he was speaking to, “Let her drown in a burning bus?” 

“You just got out of the hospital!” Enzo objected when he could form words again, “What were you doing somewhere where there was a burning bus?!” 

“We just went out for boba,” TK retorted, “I didn’t expect there to be a solar storm that caused a bus accident.” 

And Enzo forced himself to take a deep breath because that was fair, he supposed. There was no way anyone could control anything like that. Still…

“The next time you move we’re going to need to do some research,” he declared. “Because if it is anywhere as chaotic as Austin, I’m going to have to object.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” TK assured him, “I think I’ll be in Austin for a while.” 

There was a smile in his voice and Enzo somehow had the feeling he was intruding on something, even though TK had been the one to call him. 

“What number are you calling me from?” he asked, testing his theory. 

“I borrowed Carlos’s phone,” TK answered in a voice that said he knew what was coming and he hoped it would at least be quick. 

“Oh,” Enzo replied, “and Carlos wouldn’t happen to be the name of a certain ‘hot cop’ your father mentioned, aka the mystery man I have been trying to get you to tell me about for months?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say ‘we’ were trying to get boba…” 

“Enzo…”  

“And he wouldn’t happen to be with you right now, would he?” 

“Are you done?” TK demanded, and Enzo only laughed. 

“Not nearly, kid; I’m just getting started.” 

And despite TK’s muttering, Enzo could tell that he sounded happier than he had heard him sound in ages. He marveled at the fact that somehow, despite everything, TK had managed to find the happiness and peace he had hoped for him ever since he left New York all those months ago. Between the disasters he had managed to take his broken pieces and fit them back together, maybe even stronger than they had been before. 

It was all he had ever wanted for him, and he was relieved beyond belief that he had found it. 

“You know, this means I’m going to have to come down there soon,” he said instead, “I’ve got to meet this mystery man for myself.” 

He could practically hear TK rolling his eyes, but his voice was impossibly warm when he assured him, “You’ll like him, Enzo.” 

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” TK responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I do.” 

“Then I already do,” he assured him. 

If this Carlos had anything to do with the happiness he could finally hear returned to his stepson’s voice, he couldn’t do anything but. 

[illyaana]

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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Liked my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

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I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

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Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

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“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

.

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.

I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

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Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

��And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

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“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

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I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

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“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Hajime.

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

[mypoisonedvine]

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 3)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) 

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes.  as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, rough sex, safewording, oral (f receiving), angst, non-linear storytelling/flashbacks

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost.  this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You stretched a little, eyes still closed to protect them from the blinding sunlight peeking in. Daylight had crept up on you, and it came quickly. You were sure that you had only fallen asleep a mere few minutes before you woke; muscles sore from overexertion. Letting out a groan, you shifted your body once again trying to get comfortable. 

Andy really did a number on your body and you needed a deep stretch to try and regain some control over your aching muscles. You turned and looked at him. Andy was peaceful. His brows were relaxed and his mouth was slightly agape. You hadn’t realized just how badly you missed seeing him like that. So much so that you caught yourself just in time. Your hand had almost reached his cheek before pulling back.

“Stop moving,” Andy mumbled from beside you. When you did not quit the shuffling, he groaned and wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you beneath his weight. 

It caused you to hesitate and freeze for a second. His body heat radiated onto your naked body. His skin against yours. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and it’s then that you realized that the feeling of his body was ingrained in your existence.

“Andy…” you whispered but he ignored you, snuggling back into the sheets instead. It felt almost domestic. And wrong. It felt really wrong. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded you of being young, and in love, again.

In love with Andy.

---

“We should do this again sometime,” Andy beamed as you got up off the bed and pulled your t-shirt back over your head from where it had been tossed onto the floor.  Ah yes, the telltale smile of a man who just got laid.

“Andy, I probably should’ve been more clear,” you admitted.  “I’m not looking for a relationship.  I’m too busy, and I’ve always felt that single women are taken more seriously in law school.”

You expected him to question it, but he nodded.  “Yeah, that is probably true.  Fucked up, but true.”

He hopped up and followed you before you could walk to the bathroom, turning you around with a hand on your shoulder.  “Does that mean that we can’t do this again?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going to do it again,” you grinned, biting your bottom lip.  “Just, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He seemed happy enough with that answer, if not ecstatic. 

“But for now, I need to study, so get out of my room,” you chuckled, watching him redress with a satisfied smirk on your face.

---

Another party, another stupid performative social event, another red plastic cup with god knows what in it that you have no intention of actually drinking.  Or at least you had no intention when you walked in.

Andy was better at this.  People actually cheered when he came into the room— but admittedly he was also holding booze so, they might have been cheering for that.  But they were still happy to see him, and who wouldn’t be?  You were too, but you tried to hide it.  The company line was still that you two didn’t care much for each other, and it was… somewhat true, he still got on your nerves, but you undeniably had a soft spot for him.  Perhaps literally.

You decided you could pull him aside for a chat once, that wouldn’t be too suspicious.  But it couldn’t be right as he walked in, so you were basically just counting the minutes in your head until you could talk to him.  But then you were just trying to not get caught looking at him every 30 seconds.  How was he so… attractive?  Not just hot, but magnetic.  Guys jumped over to laugh with him.  Girls hung off his arm while he told hilarious stories.  And here you were, across the room staring because you didn’t want to be a part of his harem.

Speaking of harem, he seemed to have a new fan tonight, and she was hanging onto his every word.  You’d seen her around before— Jessie something, most likely short for Jessica but at the moment you decided it was short for Jezebel.  She was cute.  Gorgeous, actually.  One of those girls who looked like she just got up in the morning and brushed her hair and was already model-perfect.  You tried not to hate that about her, you tried not to hate her because she was just a beautiful girl talking with this amazing, charismatic guy and you had no reason to be mad at her because she was just— oh my fucking god did she just grab his bicep???  SKANK!

You left the party quickly after that, deciding you didn’t like the person you were becoming.  One of the many, many reasons you’d sworn not to get involved with guys in law school was because you knew how women could get defensive and territorial over men, and you were never going to prioritize getting dick over being a good feminist.  How had you already fallen so far?

You were grateful for the half-empty bottle of Fireball in your cupboard. It was to be your companion to drown out the sorrows. You hoped that it would be enough to make you forget what you saw. Especially the fact that Jezebel and Andy would have made a good couple. They looked good together. Not right. But good nonetheless.

---

“...the defendant clearly has the mental capacity for there to be mens rea. He should be prosecuted and I don’t understand how I am the only person that thinks so,” Andy tugged at his hair in frustration as you walked beside each other down the hall. “I think it’s ridiculous that--”

“Are you fucking that Jessie chick?” you suddenly interjected, trying (and failing) to curb the anger bubbling in your stomach. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and you felt a sense of dissatisfaction at the response. He proceeded to drag you into an empty classroom.

“You have no right to be jealous,” he reminded you firmly.  “We’re not dating.” 

“I know, I know. Who said that I’m jealous?” you frowned, but your voice was a lot higher than usual, “but that doesn’t mean I’m down to catch whatever cooties you get from her.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with her?” he asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” you retorted with a heavy layer of patriotism, “and everyone else thinks so, too.”

He reached out and cupped your face, tilting it up to make sure you were looking at him.  “Just because we’re not together… doesn’t mean I want anybody else.” He looked so sincere and sounded so soft that it took you aback. You had never expected Andy to say that. Ever.

“I… what?”

“Baby,” he sighed, and your heart tensed a little, “you’re the reason I’m not your boyfriend.  I don’t want to date anybody else, I don’t want to be with anybody else… you’re it.  Just you.”

“Oh,” you nodded with wide eyes.

“Are you… seeing other people?  Not that you can’t, I just… I didn’t think you were.”

“No, no,” you dismissed, “I only… no.”

“Then let’s make it official.  You have no reason to be jealous.  Be my girlfriend.”

“But I—”

“We don’t have to tell people,” he quickly backpedaled.  “I know you don’t want to be seen as half of a couple, or an extension of me or something.  But I wanna be able to call you my girlfriend.  Even if I can’t actually tell anybody about it.”

You looked at him, making sure he wasn’t joking or messing around before slowly nodding. His face lit up, “but we have to keep it on the down-low,” you reminded him quickly, to which he nodded.

“That we do. Verity would advocate for our expulsion if she knew.” Your eyes went wide with fear. Andy was right. It had the potential to completely decimate your career.

“Andy, we can’t tell anyone about this,” you whispered sharply, “especially now that we’re on a case together.”

“Calm down, baby,” he soothed. It was the first time he called you that since you became secretly-official and it sounded different now, somehow; it made your stomach flutter a little. “Trust me, I know, and it will be fine. Verity won’t find out.”

“Okay,” you nodded, believing him, “however, you really shouldn’t be calling Dr. Verity Woods, J.D. Esq. by her first name alone.”

“You don’t need to use her full name and title,” Andy laughs, “she said it’s fine to call her by her first name. You were there.”

“That I was. But it doesn’t feel right, especially since she’s leading the case.”

Andy shook his head and smiled. You really were something else but he needed it. He needed you. Even all of the crazy and particular aspects of your personality. “Speaking of her, I need to go to her office in—” Andy looked at his watch— “shit, 10 minutes.”

“Well, go, run,” you gestured at the door and Andy bolted out, not even having the time to peck your lips. You waited a few moments before leaving the room, not wanting to attract any attention.

---

“Hey, cupcake,” he cooed and then kissed your ear. Without having to look at him, you knew that he had a smug grin on his face and enjoyed the teasing.

“You eat one cupcake one time and suddenly it becomes your whole identity,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. Andy’s body pressed up against yours and you tried to push him off but the warmth of his body was far too comforting.

“But you looked so cute when you got frosting on your nose,” he recalled.  

“Go away,” you giggled and squealed as Andy tickled you, “s-stop it.”

“Come on, cupcake, you can do better than that,” Andy continued to tickle you until you fell on the floor in a giggling heap, “all you have to do is let me call you cupcake.”

“Andy—” you squealed. “Barber, you better stop this right now!” Your stomach hurt from the laughter as his fingers dug into your waist making you scream.

“Come on, cupcake.”

“N-no!”

“Since that’s the case, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.” 

“Fine!  Fine,” you relented, “you win.”

---

You looked around the sterile reception as you took a seat on the plush sofa and looked out of the window. The California sun shone into the room illuminating everything in its path. You weren’t running away, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe you would believe it at some point. It was simply that you needed a change of scenery.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were more than qualified for the job. And that should be enough. But it came at a cost. Your personal life. It had always been on the back-burner for you but you had to accept you had chosen the lonely path. 

Nobody had ever told you just how much you, as a woman, had to sacrifice to be successful. And so you learnt the hard way. Your friends told you that you had made your bed so you had to lie in it. They were not wrong but they did nothing to ease the vacancy in your heart. 

Flicking through one of the magazines on the table, you let it distract you from the ticking clock. It seemed that you were the only person that was there for the job which should have eased your nerves. But you haven’t always been the first choice. 

---

“Am I remembering correctly that you were valedictorian of your class?” the man across from you had your resume in front of him and was still unable to get it right. Maybe the job was not right for you. But it was a better offer than still being in Boston.

“Salutatorian,” you corrected coldly, gaze piercing. You tapped your nails on the table as the interviewer tried to regain his posture. 

“Oh, well,” he shrugged, “that’s still pretty good.”

Pretty good.  You didn’t believe in stuff like that.  There was greatness, and nothing else.  “Well, that’s the past,” you quickly shut off the conversation about your greatest failure and threw the man a tight-lipped smile.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what makes you think that you will be suitable for the role?”

The fear left your system. You were sure of yourself. You were more than qualified. 

---

“Time to get up for breakfast,” Andy roused you from your sleep. You had no idea when you went back to sleep but it was your turn to groan. “Don’t make me wake you up; you won’t like that.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone, Barber,” too tired and sore to really care about eating or the punishment. That being said, you were a little hungry after missing dinner.

“I know you’re sore so don’t make me wake you up,” he warned but you still refused to pay him any mind. That was your mistake as Andy ripped the covers from your body; exposing it to the chilly morning air. 

“What are you doing?” 

Andy didn’t respond. Instead, his face went to your core. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed, “I think it’s time for you to wake up.” He licked a stripe across your sex and watched it glimmer in the light. Fisting the blankets beneath you, your back arched involuntarily.

You let out a breathy moan when he parted your folds to allow his tongue better access to your dripping cunt. He licked and explored your body like it was the first time he was given the privilege. 

“Taste so good,” his voice reverberated through your body sensing little shocks of pleasure through you. Andy suckled on your clit making you cry out. His beard scratched the soft skin of your inner thigh and your sensitive folds. The contrast of his soft, wet tongue and his rough beard made your eyes roll back.

“Andy,” you mewled, “please.”

“What do you want?” Andy taunted you. Your body kept moving; your hands tugging at the sheets. You needed him to do more. He was teasing you. “Words, my little fuckdoll.”

You were unable to form any coherent sentences when Andy had such control over your body. He inserted one finger into your aching core, massaging your walls. “You have to use your words or I’ll stop now seeing as you’re awake.”

“No,” you rushed out. “P-please let me come.” You had no dignity left but you were too far gone to care. You needed Andy’s mouth and fingers too badly. 

“Well,” Andy clicked his tongue as his lips curled into a smile, “since you asked so nicely...”

---

Unable to find your clothes fast enough, you found a discarded Harvard sweatshirt of his and slipped it on, smiling to yourself at the bagginess. Looking down at the left sleeve, you realized that it was the same one you wore when you were dating. It made you feel a little nostalgic. The sweatshirt was practically yours.

You emerged from the bedroom to find him in the kitchen with an apron on-- why the fuck did he own an apron?-- and messing around at the stove.  He must have heard you enter because he turned to you with a smile.

“Huevos rancheros!” he announced with a smile, lifting the pan for you to see.

You looked to him, and the pan of eggs, and around his stylish condo worthy of an ADA’s inflated salary, and shivered with the overwhelming sense of ‘wrong’. That was even in spite of your rumbling stomach. “Andy, stop, this is all too much. Too domestic,” you whispered, unable to look at Andy when you said it.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say things like that,” Andy pleaded, “I just want to see you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“But I can’t remember the last time that I saw the real you,” Andy’s words made your stomach turn. “I don’t know the last time I saw the you that I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“She doesn’t exist anymore, Andy,” you whispered, “you need to let her go.  God knows I did.”

“No, she’s not. I don’t believe that,” he argued; heart breaking by the second, “she’s still there, I’m certain of that. You wouldn’t end up here so often if she doesn’t exist. And you wouldn’t be so upset about not being valedictorian.”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this, Andy,” you decided with a sigh as you found your purse and attempted to gather your things.  Where the fuck were your clothes again?

“No. You don’t get to say that,” he raised his voice, shedding his apron as he left the kitchen, “you can’t just waltz back into my life and keep... taking. It’s not fair.”

“Taking?  I’m not taking anything, you’re throwing yourself on me!  I don’t know what you want from me, Andy,” you sighed, placing your purse on the sofa.

“The same thing that I’ve always wanted.”

“Maybe it’s not what I want,” you lied through your teeth. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Andy’s voice cracked. You knew that you were hurting him. And yourself. But there was no other way. 

“Because I love being humiliated, and you are the most embarrassing thing I could possibly be involved with.  Because you already know all my fucked up kinky shit and I’d rather keep the number of people who know that down to a minimum.  Because when I walk home after seeing you I feel fucking sick to my stomach and filthy and stupid and I like it.  Because I love the way that fucking you makes me hate myself.”

“I’m used to you lying to me, but I think now’s a good time for you to stop lying to yourself,” he shouted, the vein in his neck appearing.  You were shocked to realize that you had actually hurt him. Badly.  “Actually, it’s more than overdue. You’ve been doing it for what? Ten years?”

 “Why can’t you just admit to yourself that you want this?” He pointed at the house, and then himself. “That you want me.” His voice was so strained that you felt a little guilty.

“I don’t want you.”

“That’s not the impression I got last night. Or this morning. You were just begging for me.”

Something about arguing with him was so erotic.  Was that a strange thing to think?  It certainly made court a lot more interesting.  And now you found your gaze trailing greedily over his body and as it met his eyes once more, you saw that he knew what you wanted.  That you were falling back into this cycle again.

“If you want me to want you again,” you hissed, “you’re gonna have to make me beg, aren’t you?”

He slammed into you, tossing you down onto the sofa as he slid his own sweatshirt up your body, latching his lips onto your nipple which was embarrassingly already hard.

“You say it like I’ve not been making you beg since you were twenty-two,” he growled, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Well I guess it’s time for me to remind you, then,” he swiped a finger across your (already wet) folds and looked at his slick-coated fingers with pride. He had always loved the way you glistened on his skin.

He pushed your back down until you arched it for him.  “Get that ass up, baby.”  You moaned when he slapped your ass quickly, tugging on your hair to arch your back even further.  “Want me to put this cock in you?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“You can do better than that,” he tutted disappointedly.

You stopped yourself from responding because you knew you would say more than you should.  He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear.

“We both know it, just say it,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.  He slipped his hand around your neck and tightened until your face tingled from the loss of blood.

“Don’t say anything until you’re ready to be honest,” he instructed, finally slipping his cock into you— and even though you couldn’t breathe or moan or speak, you managed to react plenty strongly to the feeling anyways.  You were outrageously sore from a long night of fucking and the pain burned just the right way.

He began to move his hips, each time, the base of his cock would brush against your overstimulated clit. Each thrust hitting that one place that made your body quiver. But then it got a bit too much. The stretch and burn of his cock and the hand around your throat.

“Objection!” you yelped your safeword, and instantly he stilled, slipping his arms around you and holding you close.  Tears started to pour against your will.  “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I can’t believe that after all this time you still remembered…”

“Never apologize,” he hushed, kissing your shoulder.  “I went too hard on you. And I could never forget a safeword like that,” he laughed softly.

“No, no, I just… I got a little overwhelmed.  It’s not your fault.”

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked lightly.  “I’ll help you get dressed…”

“No, stay,” you requested.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little surprised.  “Tell me how to help you.”

“Just hold me,” you shivered, “like you used to.  Back when you liked me.”

He chuckled.  “I like you.  Even now; I always have… especially when you didn’t think that I did.”

“We’ll see if you say that in court tomorrow.”

“Almost certainly will not,” he admitted, eliciting a small smile from you.

He pulled you down to lay on his chest as he relaxed into the sofa.  His fingers delicately ran along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you let your breathing steady back to normal as your eyes fell shut. 

You looked up at him after a while and appreciated the peaceful look on his face.  It wasn’t something you saw on him often, since you were always pissing him off.  Maybe that was why you liked getting on his nerves so much; because when you saw him like this, happy, you remembered feelings you wanted to forget.  But there was also a part of you that just wanted him to feel something about you when he saw you.  The opposite of love is not hate but indifference… and even if you didn’t want him to love you, and knew that he could never love you again, you couldn’t live with indifference. 

You sat up and he looked at you but you said nothing, just leaning down and kissing him again.  He kissed you back, slipping his hand around the back of your neck to hold you close.  His breathing against your face began to speed up a bit as you straddled him with your legs, rubbing your hips along his again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as you reached down to guide his cock into you one more time. You closed your eyes briefly.

“I’m sure that I’m not okay,” you responded as you moved your hips down and felt him slip inside you, “but I need you right now.”

He nodded and you sat up to plunge yourself down onto his cock, moaning as his length reached deeper into you than normal from this angle.  His hands gripped your hips tightly, not out of any sense of dominance but simply his reaction to the feeling of you as you began to ride him.  You were slow at first, balancing yourself on his chest, but it wasn’t too long until you were bouncing with abandon, moaning his name over and over while he watched you closely.

Your hand fell to his chest and you felt his heartbeat, strong and steady.  You wished you could be so strong as that.  You wished you could be so stable.  

He sat up suddenly, looking at you with a hint of concern.  He must have seen the fear on your face.  He pulled you closer and you still, instead letting him grind deeper into you as he held your face in his hands.

“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, kissing your collarbone lightly.

“Andy…” you sighed, another tear falling but for an entirely different reason.

“So perfect,” he continued, kisses trailing to your neck.  He wrapped you in his arms and you both moved together in a way that didn’t feel like what you were used to at all.  Your orgasm came and went with only a stuttered gasp but he felt it and praised you all along the way, made some promises he couldn’t keep, said some things you elected to ignore.  

You fell asleep together and stayed that way well into the afternoon, not having gotten the most effective night’s sleep beforehand.  When you woke up to golden light on your face and a snoring Andy Barber, you gave him a quick, tight hug before you got up, finally recovered your clothes, and grabbed the handle of his door.  Something stopped you, though you couldn’t be sure what, and you looked back to watch him on the couch again.  You found yourself setting your purse down and undressing again, trading the wrinkled suit for that stupid Harvard hoodie, and slipping back under his arm on the couch.  You weren’t very tired anymore so you watched him sleep for a bit, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp.  You remembered him liking that before, you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.  It was a familiar feeling, safe feeling, one that you hadn’t felt in so long.  You couldn’t think about what would happen tomorrow, what had happened yesterday.  You just let yourself swim in the comfort of him for a little while longer.

(next chapter)

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (6)

*We stan open communication, patience, and informed, enthusiastic consent when it comes to acts of sex baby! That being said I have gotten a lot more comfortable and better at writing smut (imho) so compared to smut I have written in the past this is more detailed and thus a lot raunchier sounding than anything you may have read by me before. Just wanted to put that out there before we go diving into this. Also, if I have not somehow made this clear enough already: SMUTTY CHAPTER AHEAD!*

~~~

Felix woke up a little stiff but otherwise happy. You were still asleep next to him. At some point in the night you both had turned over so he was spooning you. You fit into him like a puzzle piece. He really could get used to waking up like this.

You shifted in your sleep your back nestling further against his body. Felix froze as he realized that there was another part of him that had woken up this morning. Of all the days he could wake up with morning wood it had to choose the morning he was sleeping next to you and your ass was pressed right up against him. Okay. No matter. He can just move back so it isn’t touching you.

Felix slid his hips back from you but your body followed when he tried to pull away. He couldn’t push you away either since you were holding his free arm to your chest. Now that he was thinking about it Felix could feel exactly what it was his trapped hand was touching. So it seemed he was in a very awkward position. Your ass pressed against his erect dick and refusing to put space between it and his hand resting over one of your breasts where you kept it held. He really didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment that would come if you were to wake up while you two were like this.

He could just push you away and make a run for it. No. You didn’t deserve to be woken up like that. He started thinking of things to get his erection to go down but it persisted. It really wasn’t helped by the fact that you kept wiggling your butt against it either. If you kept squirming around it was never gonna go away.

“Hmm,” Your voice whined and pressed against him harder. You kept making small little noises as you squirmed and it suddenly dawned on Felix what was happening. You were having a dirty dream and were using the feeling of his erection between your thighs to get yourself off.

Oh this was conflicting.

He could either stay in place and let you ride this out, pun intended, and hope that you didn’t wake up or if you did wake up he could pretend to still be asleep and you could deal with any embarrassment on your own. There was also the chance that he could wake you up and you two could be mature about this situation and laugh it off in mutual embarrassment. Hell, it might even evolve into actual sex if he played his cards right. Then again he could still just run away and you two would never need to speak of this morning ever again.

He needed to make a decision soon because you were only getting more eager in your motions. Your breath was coming harder and he knew you would wake yourself up soon if he didn’t do anything. Damn it. Why did this have to feel so good?

“Hey,” Felix whispered, “Wake up. Time to get up, little girl.”

“Huh?” Your eyes were bleary but open, “Ugh…” You pressed into him again, still not fully awake. “Felix?”

“Right here,” He said, “You need to wake up now. You’re kinda...um...you are kinda rubbing…” Felix couldn’t get the words out. His face felt red hot.

“Rubbing?” You squinted over your shoulder at him. He sighed and glanced down at the lower half of your bodies. You looked down too and with a yelp leapt away from him. “Oh my god! Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Felix mumbled. He grabbed a pillow from the armchair to cover his lap. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had your face hidden in your hands. Felix took a deep breath. You were so beautiful in the morning. Your bedhead and rumpled pajamas was the softest thing he had ever seen. He really wished he could have enjoyed it longer.

“Did I…” You whispered, your face still pointed away from him, “Did I cause it to be like that?” You pointed lamely to the pillow on his lap.

Felix gulped and clutched the pillow tighter. This line of questioning wasn’t helping to get rid of it.

“No,” Felix said, “Not in the way you’re thinking. It was already like that when I woke up you just kept it like that.”

“Oh god!” You groaned. You grabbed one of the blankets from the floor and pulled it over your head to hide. “This is mortifying.”

“Is it?” Felix said before he could think better of it. “Is it so bad to think that you may desire me the same way I desire you?”

“You what?” One of your eyes peeped out from your blanket cocoon.

“You heard what I said.” Felix took a deep breath. “I like you. I find you attractive. Why does it have to be embarrassing? It’s like you said: it’s just us here. Can we be honest without shame?���

“This is a lot to process first thing in the morning.” You were dodging. Felix didn’t blame you. He was trying to have a conversation you just weren’t ready for. Even though he knew you desired him you just weren’t ready to admit it to him yet. It hurt but he wouldn’t push you.

“It is rather early,” Felix sighed in defeat, “I’m gonna go get a shower.”

~~~

Felix walked past me and went up the stairs to his bedroom. My face was still uncomfortably hot as I replayed the morning’s events back in my mind. I had been having a pleasant dream about Felix. Instead of the hot and heavy dreams I was used to it was softer. Still sexual but it wasn’t dirty. In my dream he was making love to me. Sweet words whispered in my ear as he kissed me. When I woke up I almost didn’t realize I wasn’t dreaming anymore until Felix told me I was rubbing my ass up against him.

I had never felt more embarrassed! It also didn’t help that I was still turned on to the point I couldn’t even look at him lest I crawl back into his lap. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. What must he have been thinking when he woke up to me doing that?

But that wasn’t the entire story, was it? Felix had said he desired me. He wasn’t mortified by the experience like I was. He had been so sweet and honest about the entire situation while I cowered under my blanket. Why am I trying to avoid this? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks! He practically told me I’d be more than welcome in his bed and I turned him down. What is wrong with me?!

I need to fix this.

I shot to my feet and ran upstairs. I paced outside of Felix’s room for a few minutes before swallowing back my nerves and going in. Felix wasn’t in the bedroom. I heard the sound of running water and remembered that he said he was gonna get a shower.

This felt eerily familiar.

I lingered in the doorway debating if I should leave and come back in a few minutes when he was finished or stay and wait. As I was trying to think of what to do the water turned off and Felix emerged from the bathroom.

It didn’t seem like he had noticed I was there as he strolled across the room over to his dresser.

Keep my eyes up, do not look down at his naked torso. Everything will be fine.

“Uh Felix?”

“Geez!” Felix jumped. The towel around his hips started to slip and he grabbed at it to keep it from falling. “Damn it woman! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing skulking in my door?”

“Sorry, I just…” I entered the room and let the door fall shut behind me. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And this couldn’t wait until after I got clothes on?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think that through. I just wanted to say that I didn’t feel right about the way things were left downstairs. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about liking you. Probably because I haven’t ever liked anyone like I like you before. I certainly have never really wanted anyone like I want you and that scares me too. But I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want you to think that I’m pushing you away because I’m ashamed of what I feel. I do find you attractive and I do want more out of this relationship but it’s daunting. I don’t know where I would even start.”

“Darling,” Felix sighed, he cupped my face in his large hands and bent down to kiss me. “We start right here. We start by admitting what we want. We can take it as slow or as fast as you want to. We have more than enough time to explore together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I stood on my toes and pulled him down for another kiss. It was quickly turning heated and Felix pushed me away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m still only wearing a towel.” He said, “And you are turning into a tent if you get my meaning.”

“Oh…” I blushed. I gazed into his pale slate blue eyes. “Anything I can help with?”

Felix’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I might end up taking you up on it.”

“That’s exactly why I said it though.”

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, little girl?”

“I hope so.” I threaded my fingers with his, “And for your information I am not a little girl. Not in height and certainly not in age.”

“Are you sure about that, small fry?” Felix chuckled, “Looking kinda short from up here.”

“This is a perfectly normal height!” I protested, “You’re just freakishly tall! You know what? Forget it. I rescind my offer. Have fun of taking care of that on your own.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix tugged on my hand keeping me close, “I can’t help but tease you. Come back.”

He ran a free hand through my hair. His gaze searching mine. “I want you to. God knows how much I want you to but I don’t want you to do it if it isn’t what you really want. Don’t go thinking you have to jump into the deep end to keep me happy. I’ll still want you regardless.”

“I’m not behaving irrationally, Felix.” I told him, “I want to do this and, y’know, maybe in exchange you can...help me…?”

“Brave girl,” Felix smirked before kissing me again. He was leaning back against the dresser. His hands wandered from my hips up into my hair and down again. I felt something poke against my stomach and tried not to squeak like was my knee jerk reaction.

“Still want to do this?” Felix whispered. His voice was a lot deeper than before. It sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

“Yes please.”

Felix took a deep breath and nodded. With trembling hands I untucked the towel from his hips and it fell to the floor. I was staring directly into Felix’s chest. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I had him naked. I had many fantasies but trying to re-enact them had me trembling with anticipation and fears of inadequacy.

“Need me to help guide you?” Felix spoke softly.

I nodded dumbly. Felix tilted my chin up to kiss me. His other hand rested over my dominant hand and pressed it to his chest. Slowly he moved it down lower, all the while his mouth was still on mine. I felt wiry hairs touch my hand and I flinched.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Felix whispered against my lips, “You’re alright, darling. Nothing to be scared of here. Just keep your eyes on me.”

I took in a deep breath and relaxed once more. With his hand still over mine he guided it along his cock. Letting me get a feel for what it felt like to touch it. His breathing was calculated and slow, trying to retain a sense of composure as he moved my hand over him and palmed the tip. He hissed through clenched teeth and kissed me again a bit more desperately.

“Are you good to keep going?” He asked.

“Yes.” My own voice felt faraway.

Felix moved my hand back down to the base and wrapped my fingers along the shaft. With his hand still around mine he moved it up and down his cock in sure slow movements. His wrist flicked and twisted slightly as we went. He was breathing hard now and I could tell he was trying not to moan or buck into my hand.

“Felix,” I kissed at his shoulder, “You can enjoy yourself. Don’t be so worried about scaring me off. Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

I bit back a smile as I removed his hand from around mine so it was just me pleasuring him. I watched his face closely seeing what he liked and how to respond. It was so strange seeing this boy who was usually so stoic and rigid release his inhibitions and react how he wanted to in my grasp. I felt a surge of power as I started pumping him faster, the sound of his moans getting louder. Half mumbled words as his hips bucked against my fist. He kept one hand gripped on the lip of the dresser while the other held tightly to me.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his eyes were screwed shut, a small bead of perspiration gathered on his brow, “Fuck, I--” He broke off into wanton moans again.

“It’s alright, Felix. I want you to.” I trailed my lips along his chest, “Please Felix.”

He roared my name and bucked harder into my hand. Warm spurts of milky cum coating my hand in the process.

Felix panted as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm. Our eyes met and he pulled me to him crushing his lips to mine. “So I did a good job?” I chuckled against his lips.

“You were perfect, darling.” He collected his towel from the ground and wiped the cum from my hand. “Sorry about the mess. Looks like I got a bit on your pants too.”

“They needed washed anyway.” I shrugged.

“It’s your turn now.” He said. My eyes widened and he snorted. “Did you forget about that part?”

“A little. Got caught up in the moment with you.” I blushed harder. Felix brought me to him again for a sweet lingering kiss. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” He grinned, “Chuck your pants in my hamper and sit on the bed for me.”

“Okay.” I turned to go.

“Oh, put this in there too while you’re over there.” Felix threw his towel at me. I caught it and tossed it in the bathroom hamper before stripping out of my pajama pants and tossing them in as well. I sat at the edge of Felix’s bed wearing only my panties and a sleep shirt.

Felix had pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt while I was waiting. My whole body was growing more jittery with every step he took towards me. It was a good kind of jittery though. My body thrummed with anticipation.

He sat down next to me. His hands caressed my face and left small kisses along my nose and cheeks. “I guided you, now you need to guide me.” He said, “Show me what to do. What you like.”

“Right,” I shook off my nerves. Shouldn’t be too hard, I just need him to do what I usually do when I’m alone. I can start slow. No need to rush.

I leaned closer and kissed him. As we kissed I moved his hand down to the hem of my shirt and slid it under so he was touching my bare skin. My skin tingled in the wake of his touch. His other hand followed as I encouraged him to touch my breasts. I moaned into his mouth.

“Soft,” Felix murmured, “I knew you’d be soft.”

“And your hands are rough.” I laughed slightly. Felix grimaced and started to withdraw before I pressed him back to me. “It’s okay. I kinda like it.”

I let him go so he could rub and play with my breasts. My shirt was hiked up and I quickly took it off so it was out of the way. He groaned next to me and after a nod from me he started peppering kisses along my chest. He took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked on it.

The ache between my legs was getting stronger. “Felix,” I took one of his hands and started leading it lower down my body. “I need you to touch me now.”

“With pleasure, darling.” We laid down against the bed. “Show me what to do.”

“First, I like to play with my clit until I feel ready.” His hand slid beneath the band of my panties and I whined when he touched my clit. He rubbed it in sure slow swipes, circling it with care as I moaned next to him.

“You’re really wet,” He said. “Do I make you feel that good, little girl?”

“Yes,” I gasped as he sped up slightly. I clung onto him tighter, my face buried in his shoulder. “Want to make me feel even better?”

“Of course,”

“Slide one finger inside me,” I instructed. Felix listened and I let out a moan that was half yelp.

“Did I hurt you?” Felix asked, concerned.

“No, it’s just um,” I shuddered around him, “Your fingers are longer than mine so you can get deeper than I normally can. It feels really good.”

“Good, now what would like me to do?”

I instructed him on taking me slowly. Curling his finger and letting my cunt stretch before he added another. I was starting to lose coherency as he began pumping his fingers in and out of me. Curling and scissoring my wet, aching cunt until I couldn’t form words anymore. He kissed my neck, whispered words of praise in my ear as my pleasure was driven higher and higher. I risked a glance down and nearly came at the sight of Felix’s hand in between my legs. It was so strange to see something I pictured so clearly in my mind actually happening.

“Felix,” I moaned, grasping onto him like my sanity depended on it. “Feels good...almost--almost--need more!”

“What do you need? Tell me how to please you.”

“Clit. Rub my clit.” I begged.

His other hand went down and started rapidly swiping and circling my clit. I shouted as stars danced before my eyes. I was gonna cum any second now. “Felix! Fuck Felix, I’m gonna--I--”

“Do it,” His voice was dripping with desperation, “Please darling, I want you to cum. I want to know you feel good. Please cum for me darling.”

“Felix!” I dug my fingernails into his shoulders as my orgasm washed over me. My pussy clenching tight over his fingers which were still coaxing me through my orgasm to draw it out as long as possible. I rocked against him, my shouts turning into whimpers as tiny post orgasmic shockwaves rolled through my body.

“I got you,” Felix whispered, “I got you. You were so wonderful for me, darling. I’m glad I could make you feel good.”

“Not just good,” I mumbled happily, “Fucking fantastic is what it felt like.”

“Happy to hear it.” He popped the fingers that had just been in my pussy into his mouth licking the juices off. He licked his lips with a smile. “I knew you would taste good too.”

“I cannot believe you just did that.” I hid my face in his chest, “Why did you do that in front of me?!”

“Because as splendid as this morning has been I have not had anything to eat yet today and I figured I had a good enough snack right here.”

“Felix!” My face felt like it was on fire.

“Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?”

“You what?!” I snapped my head up so fast I hit him in the jaw. “Ow, sorry,”

“Okay, that might have been a little too intense for an after handjob pillow talk. I concede that.” Felix rubbed his jaw, “How about we cool things down for the rest of the day? You go clean yourself up, get a shower, put on something comfy. I’ll go make us something to eat and we can watch whatever movie you want. Sound good?”

I rolled on top of him and kissed him. I didn’t care if I could taste myself on his tongue (It was kinda hot if I was honest with myself). I just wanted to express these deep feelings stirring inside that I couldn’t adequately express. If this wasn’t love then I don’t know what else it could possibly be.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Felix chuckled, “Now can you get off me? As much as I would love to keep you here in my bed for the rest of the day I did promise you food and a movie.”

“If I must,” I rolled off him and collected my shirt from the ground. With a final look at Felix I smiled and scampered out of the room back to my own. I think this has to be the best morning I’ve ever had.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (6)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of sexual activity (but no actual scenes), Blaise (you know what i mean <3)

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: would y'all be interested if i added a smut chapter? also fun fact! the little date bit where y/n thinks about her worst date is based on my real life experience. only we didn't go to mcdonald's, we went to in-n-out. and it was terrible

(gif cred)

Blaise Zabini.

This man was the walking definition of lust. Flirtatious, smooth, and most definitely a womanizer. He didn’t hide it in his actions and you didn’t care. He could break your heart and have you crying for weeks, but man, if he wasn’t gorgeous.

Blaise Zabini looked as if he was carefully molded by Aphrodite. A man almost too beautiful for the world, and you’re going on a date with him. He nearly knocked the air out of your lungs when he asked to take you out to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Buffalo. And who were you to say no?

The whole window incident was completely forgotten. He could see more if he’d like— “Hey Y/N?” Your employee brought you out of your thoughts. A soft blush was on your face as you tried to act like you weren’t thinking of your neighbors’ friend. “Uh, yeah, what’s up?”

“Did you want me to put the crystal beads in the front? They’ve been really popular today.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You had a few more hours of your day left before going back home. You had called over two of your best friends to catch up and help you pick out an outfit for your date that coming Saturday. It was currently Thursday, but in case nothing in your closet was good enough, you’d at least have some time to go shopping with them. Which was probably going to happen anyway.

It was a really good day; it got really busy with customers and the usual nuisance was gone today. But no matter how busy it was, you still felt like time was passing by slowly. In all honesty, what you really wanted was to be able to see Blaise today even if it was for just a minute, just to say hi.

Your last date was six months ago and, well. If it went well, you wouldn’t be attending the date you were going to later on the weekend. It was a horrifying date; he took you to a fucking McDonalds on the first (and last) date, only paid for his own meal, and made weird sexual innuendos nearly the whole time. And the worst bit was that even though it was a terrible date, you decided to give him another shot by texting him saying that you’d like to go to another date and he never texted you back.

Blaise was only going to be around for a month, you know this. And you kinda felt bad for taking some of his time away from his best friend whom he was visiting for, but he asked you out. So, if he’s alright with it you should be, too.

After the store closed, you stayed an extra hour just to make sure everything was cleaned up and ready for tomorrow. As much as you were in a rush, you hated clutter and didn’t want to have to wake up earlier to clean. Most likely, your friends were gonna want to drink a little. Traffic home wasn't great, but once you got home you got exactly what you asked for.

Outside, Blaise stood against a wall smoking a cigarette on Draco’s porch. God, even the way he stands is hot you thought. He saw you pull in your driveway and put out the last of the bud onto the ashtray. Blaise made his way to you and your heart was beating hard. “Good evening, gorgeous,” he said in that mesmerizing British accent. I’d kill to hear that voice in the morning.

“Hello,” you sighed in contentment. He was about to say something before your friends pulled up next to your car. Internally, you groaned. You just had to hope they wouldn't say anything to embarrass you. Without taking the chance, you started thinking of a reason to excuse him back to Draco’s house but it was too late as your friends were already rushing to your side. Act normal, act normal, act normal—

“Hey Y/N, who's this?” Miranda probed. Her voice was suggestive and you caught how she looked Blaise up and down. Bianca, the shyest of the three stood aside and waved at him.

“Blaise, these are my best friends Miranda and Bianca,” your hands gestured to the girls by your side. “Guys, this is Blaise.”

He took their hands and kissed the top of them. “Well, you ladies have a goodnight. I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winked at you before he left.

Miranda let out a sigh before she spoke, “God, you’re so lucky.” She started heading into your house and pulled out a bottle of wine from her purse. Yeah. I am.

—

Draco has no idea what he walked into.

Santa Marie’s was absolute chaos. There was nearly a horde of injured wizards and witches that he and his team had to help. People filled the waiting room and beds were constantly being changed for the next patient.

The worst bit of it was that no one had any memory as to what happened. “This is a really strong memory charm. Not as bad as how Lockhart was left, though. Any idea who could’ve done this?” Draco worked as he healed one person after the next. He’s been running around with Ian at his side.

“Not really. This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this. Hell, this is probably the first time anything like this ever happened at Santa Marie’s,” Ian pondered. It was true. Something like this hasn’t been seen in this hospital. But Draco wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing about it. He became Head Healer at Santa Marie’s for a reason and he was going to prove he deserves this position.

When he found a few minutes to himself, he called his landline at home to let Blaise and Theo know that he might not come home for the night. Theo was the one to answer the call and offered to take Draco some clothes if need be, but Draco already had a bag in his office just in case something kept him there. Guess today’s that day.

“Are you by yourself?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, Blaise left about twenty minutes ago,” Theo confirmed.

“Where’d he run off to? Not like he has other friends around,” Draco chuckled. He used the time to eat a sandwich from the cafeteria vending machine. Wasn't as filling, but he figured it’ll do for now until he would be able to eat an actual meal.

“Don’t you remember? Blaise got his date with… what’s her name again? The muggle, witch one, fuck if I know,” Theo said. That’s today? Draco had forgotten all about it. Of course, if he had remembered, he’d probably be distracted from his work today. Wait, why?

Theo regained his attention by calling his name multiple times thinking Draco had just hung up. “I’ll call you later. Still got loads of work to be done.”

“Hey, do you think they’ll do it-” Draco cut the call off before he could listen to the end of that sentence. Last thing he wanted on his mind while he worked was Blaise doing… things with you. It wasn’t because he liked you. You’re his neighbor and things could get pretty weird. It took months just to get along and have one engaging conversation.

And honestly, Draco still didn't like how you were a Wiccan. He may not understand what exactly it means, but it didn't matter. What would even happen if for some reason, Blaise actually showed you what real magic looks like? That was what really concerned Draco. Showing a muggle magic. He didn't know what those laws were like under the Magical Congress, but under the Ministry it was only allowed to show muggles magic and the wizarding world if it had the promise of marriage or you were a mudbl— muggleborn.

And Draco knew Blaise. His longest committed relationship was probably three months, so marriage is a definite no. Draco didn't know why he was even worried about it, it's just one bloody date. He figured that America made him soft as he stood ther overthinking about literally nothing. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't feel Ashley flick his forehead. “Ow! That hurt!”

“I’d be worried if it didn't. You were standing there like a damn zombie. You ready to get back out there?” Ashley sassed. Draco scarfed the last of his sandwich and followed Ashley back to the emergency room. Ugh, I want this day to end.

—

It was the best date you ever had. You weren't in love or anything, but you were definitely tired out. The dinner was amazing and the conversations were engaging and interesting. But it's the events after the dinner that you remember.

Unlike boyfriends and girlfriends before, Blaise took his time with you. Slow, sensual and just perfect. It was quite suspicious, actually. What man is this perfect? There's something up. Weird foot fetish, secret Star Wars nerd. Or worse. Star Trek you thought.

Two days after the date, your best friends drove straight to your house after a single text was sent. There was no way Miranda and Bianca were going to read about the details on a phone screen, no. They wanted to hear the explicit details with their own ears.

“He did what?” Miranda nearly choked on the wine. There was a certain confidence in your aura. You slept with a man hand crafted by the gods and it was the best time of your life.

Bianca sat bashfully listening to your story, but she leaned forward to hear you better. “Little trashy for a first date, but who the hell cares? Ten out of ten, would definitely do again.” You smirked at the end of your corny joke. Your friends looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Alright, we get it. What now, though? He's only here for a month. What's gonna happen now?” Miranda questioned.

“Dunno. But for now, I'm just having fun. At first, I thought it'd be weird since his friend isn't the most pleasant to live next to, but Blaise is different.” You could only assume they were different, but considering you were getting along way better you figured it was safe to assume they were.

“What does your neighbor even look like? I haven't seen him anywhere,” Bianca noticed. Now that you realize, you haven't seen your brooding neighbor in a couple days. Not that you cared. “Actually, I don't know. Work, probably,” you shrugged your shoulders as you brought your wine glass to your lips.

“Where does he work?” Miranda asked.

“In the emergency room at a hospital,” you answered.

“Oh. You know where?” Miranda kept at it. “No, we don't really talk much. Took me nearly six months to even find out that he even talks, let alone what he does for a living.” Just as you were about to take another sip, a certain black car was pulling up.

From afar, you could see the dark circles extremely prominent under Draco’s eyes and noticed him wearing the same clothes he left the house in a couple days ago. You actually pitied him, but admired him at the same time.

Being a doctor is no easy task, and here was one across the yard working day and night to help people. “Is that him?” Bianca noticed him from out the window. You nodded in response and took another sip of wine.

“I'm moving to England. There's no way that they have this many attractive men. Watch me pledge allegiance to the Queen, I don't care,” Miranda rambled. You laughed at her in response. “You said there's another person visiting him?”

“Yeah, why?” you quirked an eyebrow. “What does he look like?” Miranda looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You shrugged your shoulders, “Haven't seen him yet. Never comes out but I think I heard him once in the backyard.”

After a couple hours of talking and laughing, the two best friends decidedly went home and called you once they arrived safely. The night was chilly and the sky was clear. You admired the sunset and the orange and purple hues in the sky from the bench of your porch. If you could, you'd paint the scenery.

The sound of a door opening made you look to the side and saw Draco pulling out a cigarette. He looked around and once his eyes landed on yours, he reached in his pocket for the lighter. Once it was lighted, he took a deep inhale and let the smoke out with a long puff.

“Long couple days?” you asked from across. He took another puff before he started walking to the fence separating your yards. You did the same and leaned against it next to him. “Feel like shit,” he said under his breath.

“You look like shit,” you commented. Draco glared at you and you laughed at him. It took him a couple seconds to drop his glare and then he started laughing as well. When you looked at him, you noticed how his eyes crinkled and how bright his smile was. It was the first time you'd ever seen him like this and it made you feel a bit warmer inside. You remembered how when he'd first moved in, all you wanted was to be friends with your new neighbor and have moments like this.

The silence lasted a while when your laughters died down. He finished the last of the cigarette and stepped on it as you just stood and wandered into nothing. Whether it was an awkward silence or not, you didn't know. But considering you were comfortable, maybe it wasn't.

You looked at your neighbor and reached one of your hands out to him. Draco looked confused, like he once did when you first went to his door and reached for a handshake. He stood still as he expected you to say something. The expression spoke for him so you finally explained yourself, “Friends?”

Draco seemingly thought about it, eyes going back and forth from your hand to your eyes. He then looked at his house for some reason and met your eyes again. Hesitantly, he shook your hand, “Friends.”

This was going to be an odd friendship for sure, but after months of trying, a friendship began.

—

next chp

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[joneswuzhere]

hello join me in thinking about some books and authors that are, or might be, part of s5′s intertextuality

5.10 in particular offered specific shout outs, and also u know i’m always wondering what might be ahead so i have some ideas on that:

- first, as mentioned in a previous ask post, i know i wasn’t alone in keeping an eye out for 5.10 parallels to the lost weekend (1945) the film that gave episode 1.10 its name and several themes - or to the 1944 book by charles r jackson which the film is based on

- s5 has not been shy about revisiting earlier seasons, especially s1. altho i feel that 1.10′s parallels to the lost weekend centered characters other than jughead (mostly betty), a 1.10-5.10 connection involving jughead and themes from jackson’s story (addiction, writers block, self reflection) seemed v possible if not inevitable

- but like,, , for a hot minute after the ep, i was really stumped on understanding how anything from the book or film could apply, even tho the pieces were almost all there

- jackson’s protagonist don birnam goes thru and comes out the other side of a harrowing days-long drinking binge that could be compared to jughead’s one-night hallucinogenic writing retreat

- but jughead is struggling primarily with traumatic memories, not addiction and self control like birnam. and tho drinking activates birnam’s creativity, it paralyzes his writing as he gets lost in fantasies; he’s never published anything. jughead’s drug trip recreates circumstances that already helped him write one successful book. even the rat that startles him mid-high doesn’t line up with birnam’s withdrawal vision of a dying mouse, symbolic of his horror at his own self-destruction thru alcohol

- and maybe the most visible discordance: in the film there’s a romantic motif around a typewriter. first it’s an object of shame; birnam’s failure to write, tied up with his drinking, makes him flee his relationship. he tries to pawn the typewriter for booze money and finally a gun when shooting himself feels easier than getting sober. but with the help of relentless encouragement from girlfriend helen, he quits drinking, commits to her, and focuses on typing out the story he’s dreamt of writing. rd goes so far to avoid setting any comparable scenario that jughead has brought a wholeass printer into the bunker so there can still be a physical manuscript to cover in blood by the end, even without his own typewriter. the subtle detail of his laptop bg image is a little less noticeable than his avoidance of betty’s gift

- tabitha might be closer to a parallel than jughead is, but she’s still no helen. both refuse to take advantage of the inebriated men in their care, but birnam takes advantage of helen, financially and emotionally. jughead refused a loan from the tate family and now has resolved to deal with his shit before he considers a relationship with tabitha. instead of helen’s relentless and unwelcomed attempts to get birnam sober, tabitha reluctantly agrees to help jughead trip safely bondage escape notwithstanding. she even helps him get the drugs.

- whatever potentials exist for parallels to jackson’s story, they were not explored for this episode. ok so why tf am i even talking about this? what was there instead?

-  i have arrived at the point

- s5 has been revisiting s1, not directly but with a twist. and jughead’s agent samm pansky is back. u may recall, pansky is named for sam lansky

- jughead’s trip-thru-trauma is a story device tapped straight from lansky’s book ‘broken people’

- lansky is like if a millenial john rechy wrote extremely LA-flavored meta but just about himself no jk very like a modern successor to charles r jackson. both play with the boundary between memoir and fiction. lansky is gay; jackson wrote his lost weekend counterpart as closeted and remained closeted himself until only a few years before his death. both write with emotional clarity and self-scrutiny on the experiences of addiction, sobriety, and the surrounding issues of shame and self worth

- i feel like a fool bc after this ep i had been thinking about de quincey and his early writings on addiction (c.1800s), but i failed to carry the thought in the other direction, to contemporary writers in the genre, to make this connection sooner

- lansky’s second book, broken people, follows narrator ‘sam’, mid-20s, super depressed, hastled by his agent to write a decent follow-up to his first book, but too busy struggling with his self-worth and baggage from several past relationships. desperate, he takes up an offer to visit a new age shaman who promises to fix everything wrong with him in a matter of days. not to over simplify it but he literally spends a weekend doing psychedelics and hallucinating about his exes. jughead took note

- unless u want me to hurl myself into yet another dissertation about queer jughead, i think his parallel to sam - who, unlike jughead, has considerable financial privilege and whose anxieties center on body dysmorphia, hiv scares, and his own self-centeredness - pretty much ends there

- But,, the gist of the book could not be more harmonius with a major theme shared by the 2 films that inform the actual hallucination part of jughead’s bunker scene: mentally reframing past relationships to get closure + confronting trauma head-on in order to move forward

- so that’s neat. what other book and author stuff was in 5.10?

- stephen king and raymond carver get name dropped. i’m passingly familiar with them both but u bet i just skimmed their wiki bios in case anything relevant jumped out

- like jughead, carver was a student (later a lecturer) at the iowa writers workshop. also the son of an alcoholic and one himself

- i recall carver’s ‘what we talk about when we talk about love’ is what jughead was reading in 2.14 ‘the hills have eyes’ after he finds out about the first time betty kissed archie (at that time he does not respond as would any of carver’s characters)

- this collection of carver stories deals especially with infidelity, failings of communication, and the complexities and destructiveness of love. to unashamedly quote the resource that is course hero, ‘carver renders love as an experience that is inherently violent bc it produces psychic and emotional wounds.’ very fun to wonder about the significance of this collection within the s2 episode and in jughead’s thoughts. and maybe now in the context of the s5 state of relationships. or, at least, the state of jughead’s writing as seen by his agent

- anyway pansky doesn’t want carver, he wants stephen king

- i have too much to say about gerald’s game in 5.10, that’s getting its own post someday soon

- lol wait king’s wife is named tabitha uhhh king’s wiki reminded me of his childhood experience that possibly inspired his short story ‘the body’ (+1986 movie ‘stand by me’) when he ‘apparently witnessed one of his friends being struck and killed by a train tho he has no memory of the event’

- no mention of that in this rd episode but memories of a train could be interesting to consider with the imagery that intrudes on jughead’s hallucination. i still feel like it was a truck but the lights and sounds he experiences may be a train

- ok now we’re in the speculation part of today’s segment

- if jughead’s traumatic memory involves trains, then it’s possible this plot will take influence from la bête humaine <- this 1938 movie is based on the 1890 novel by french writer émile zola. this story deals with alcoholism and possessive jealousy in relationships, sometimes leading to murder. huh, kind of like carver. zola def comes down on the nature side of the nature-vs-nuture bad seed question (tho i should say he approaches this with great or maybe just v french compassion). also i can’t tell if this is me reaching but, something about la bête humaine reminds me of king’s ‘secret window’ which we’ve observed to be at least a style influence on jughead post time jump

- but wow a late-19th century french writer would be a random thing to drop into this season, right? then again zola also wrote about miners, which we’ve learned are an important part of this town’s history + whatever hiram is up to this time.  and most notably, zola wrote ‘j’accuse...!’ an open letter in defense of a soldier falsely accused and unlawfully jailed for treason: alfred dreyfus. archie’s recent army trouble comes to mind.

- since the introduction of old man dreyfuss (plausibly Just a nod to close encounters actor richard dreyfuss, but also when is anything in this show Just one thing) i’ve been wondering if these little things could add up to a season-long reference to zola’s writings. but i had doubts and didn’t want to speak on it too soon bc, u know, it’s weird but is it weird enough for riverdale??

- however,,,

- (come on, u knew where i was going with this)

- a24′s film zola just came out. absolutely no relation to the french writer, it’s not based on a book but an insane and explicit twitter thread by aziah ‘zola’ wells about stripping and? human trafficking?? this feels ripe for rd even outside the potentials here for the lonely highway/missing girls plot.

- that would add up to a combination of homage that feels natural to this show

- anyway pls understand i’m just having fun speculating, most of this is based on nothing more concrete than the torturous mental tendril ras has hooked into my skull pls let go ras pls let go

[cafeinthemoon]

The Leaves of Her Garden - Chapter XIII

Title: The Leaves of Her Garden

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 2901

Chapter (s): 13/?

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Interlude, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 🖤 | ▶▶

Chapter XIII - Madara and the God of Shinobi

Since you were brought to Madara’s house, you felt like you were under some sort of spell. You’ve been living through the days as if you were inside another person’s dream, following events, hearing conversations and seeing scenarios that could only be experienced through their eyes. Even when you were the center of such events and all eyes were turned to you, you just couldn’t feel them like the real things they were. Being introduced to other members of the clan – elders, women and servants – under your new name only reinforced this impression.

This and the fact that you’ve spent those days without your husband’s company.

The next day after the ceremony came silent in your room. When you opened your eyes and sat on the futon, your first action was to seek for Madara; you did it without even realizing it. He wasn’t there; somehow, the silence of his absence was way different from when he was just quiet, out of your immediate sight. You were left alone and felt a bit anxious for this.

The room had everything you needed to take care of yourself, and this is what you did after leaving the bed. When you were ready, you found a new robe and went to the porch, still tying its straps around your body.

You sat on the wood platform with your feet dangling right above the grass, the warm light of the morning touching your face and everything your sight could reach. Twirling around the place there were rosy petals that just have fallen from the cherry trees, so natural while carried by the breeze that you could think they were living beings; some of them were carried away, and a few ones came to rest upon the grass, close to your feet.

Yes. You have been through so much that you completely forgot that Spring was on its apex. Still, you were glad that you could take some time to appreciate it now. That was the first time you did it the way you should in a long time, without fear, uncertainty or anxiety clouding your thoughts: now you had a family and a house by the side of a man who was able to guide and protect you and two women who acted like true friends, taking care of your needs when you weren’t able to do it for yourself.

After all the things your had to endure, you were finally in peace.

You were thinking of this when you sensed your had company. You glanced at your right and saw him there, standing in the shadow of the closest porch’s columns. He wasn’t using a robe anymore: instead, he had the full traditional clothing of his clan, with its long sleeves and its high collar; however, he was on barefeet. You noticed you were starting to get used to his sudden appearances, even welcoming them.

You stood up from the porch. At first, you thought of greeting him with good morning or something, but you stopped your tongue at the last moment. Somehow you sensed the moment asked for silence.

Madara came and took the place by your side. He held your chin, then approached his lips of your temple and left a kiss there. It was a strange treatment he gave you, that one: you felt it like it was a way to mark you as his property. The gesture didn’t lack gentleness, however: there you had a man who used to take good care of what belonged to him.

He was the first to speak.

- Your look visibly better – and still with his had under your chin, he made you turn from one side to another in order to examine your traits, as a way to confirm what he said – The effects of a good night of sleep cannot be denied when we look at you right now.

When he released you, you felt safe to speak.

- Indeed, I feel better today, Madara – again, you almost said the -sama, but stopped in time – I hope you slept well too.

At first, he smiled at your preoccupation with his well being, but soon that smile fade into a contemplative expression. You didn’t have to wait too long to find out the reason behind it.

- I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Y/n – he started – It is good to see that you are used to leave the bed in the first hours of the day, even when you do not have to.

- I am actually used to wake up earlier – you replied with modesty.

Your cheeks burned to what he said after that.

- After the last night, I would not blame you for staying in bed for a longer time – he smirked – Anyway, there is a reason for my waiting. I need to inform you about some events you must expect to attend today. The first one is the Todoroki’s farewell by midday, which you naturally will have to watch by my side, so that I will sent the women to prepare you when the time comes.

You nodded, and he offered his arm to you: he intended to take you for a walk in the garden, which you accepted without thinking twice. The morning was too beautiful for you to stand under the porch’s protection for much longer. That time you took the traditional path and reached the garden within minutes. You appreciated the walking: though you wouldn’t complain if Madara took you in his arms and reached the place in seconds, you always enjoyed using your own feet as a normal person, so that you were content to see that he respected this.

In fact, knowing that the Todoroki were going to leave soon brought some relief to your mood: you wouldn’t need to maintain Sachiko’s role for much longer once they’re gone. Only when you had to communicate with other members of the Uchiha, who weren’t aware of the whole story.

What he said next, however, had the opposite effect.

- Now, I am afraid that what I am going to tell you might bring some apprehension to you, and I apologize for that. Y/n, in a few days I am going on a mission with my brother, and I am still not sure of how long I will be away.

Madara was right. Hearing that he was leaving in some days made your heart beat faster with anxiety. Despite not knowing him long enough to say you loved him, you cared for him, as your husband and your protector: you’ve heard about the challenges and dangerous situations in which the shinobi used to be involved during their work.

You tried to contain your preoccupation, but you weren’t sure you succeeded, judging by his reply:

- I know it will not cease the worries you are already feeling, but let me tell you that there is no logical reason for them. Some of our men will be sent to travel alongside the Todoroki, and these ones will only leave in my presence. However, our best shinobi will stay to guard the compound, and some of them will follow me and Izuna in our mission – a smile grew on the corner of his mouth when he noticed you were still worried – As you can easily imagine, I would have to be too reckless, or too stupid, to leave you and the rest of my people unprotected after sealing a treaty with the Todoroki.

You did your best to calm yourself, but you needed to be honest about the situation. You stopped; looking down at his hands and releasing your arm from his, you took them into yours, too small to contain them in their entirety.

- Despite the little time we have spent together, I already trust you and Izuna-sama and the other people. But I cannot help being worried when I hear you say you will be far away, where I cannot reach you. If only there was a way to assure you will be alright… I would not bother you with these silly feelings.

When you said that, you looked into his eyes seeking for another assurance. But the glimmer you saw in them in response made you shiver though the morning was as warm as the Spring would allow it to be.

Madara held your hands in his with the same firmness you sensed when he did it for the first time, in that night you met. Just like that time, you felt fascinated yet overwhelmed by the sensation that he chose this particularly gentle gesture to push his power and unpredictability into you.

His words came only to confirm this impression.

- Maybe my mere words are no longer enough to make you understand it – and with a smile that left a deeper impression than the look in his eyes – I think it is time to show you what the name Madara Uchiha means to the ones who hear it.

With this, the black of his eyes faded, giving space to the reddish pattern of his Mangekyo Sharingan. Was he going to immerse you in another memory? You were still questioning yourself about it when the sight around you changed, and the morning light and the warm weather disappeared.

You saw yourself surrounded by a suffocating, hot atmosphere that seemed to melt at the constant explosions of light and fire you saw and heard around you. It was like being at the edge of a volcano.

When you felt able to look ahead, you spotted high rocks eroding with earthquakes that didn’t last longer than seconds. Upon them, facing each other and separated only by a few meters there were two human forms, dark against the fires.

Two men.

You felt your eyes looking closer at the scene and recognized one of them – Madara. And he was the one who produced all the fire you saw, doing this through his chakra. However, it was the way he was doing it that stunned you: he had his hand close to his mouth with his fingers pointing above in the traditional chakra releasing position used by the shinobi while at combat, and from his lips came out gigantic streams of fire the devoured everything ahead and around. So, that was what your husband was capable of?

You immediately turned to the opposite side, where the other man was standing, to see what remained from him. Because, of course, nothing could survive such attack. It was when you held your breath: the man was alive.

And not only he was alive, but he was also defending himself: with his palms united and clenched against each other, he used his chakra to make colossal branches grow around him. Yes, he was producing pure wood with his power. You soon understood that they were the cause of the earthquakes: the strength with which they opened their way through the hostile ground moved the stones from their place, changing the land’s geography.

It was like the branches surrounded by fire were about to finish the world and leave nothing to tell the story.

You observed that man with more attention and felt like you knew him, but in a peculiar way; it was like you have met him in a dream, or during a moment when you were seeing with someone else’s eyes.

Whether you knew him or not, his presence and appearance impacted you almost as much as Madara’s: his red armor shone at the fire’s light, and around his shoulders’ protectors his long, dark hair floated with the hot winds coming toward him. Just like your husband, that man had a dark toned skin, as if he was touched by the sun the same amount of times as him, only visible through his face and hands; in his traits there was something distinct, softer despite the seriousness of the battle and the fact that he was surrounded by fire, something that made him look even younger than Madara. On that face, however, you saw a courage, a rage that was equal to his.

A sudden change in the atmosphere around you made you shiver. The air became warm, almost as pleasing as before you were dragged to that place, and now you were watching the battle without suffocating with the heat. This change was operated at the same time you felt a pair of known hands held your shoulders from behind. Not wanting to take your eyes off the events before you, you glanced over your left shoulder and whispered:

- Who... is that man? How can he stay alive with everything falling apart around him?

Somehow you sensed when Madara smiled; he seemed content with your surprise and interest. Right after came his reply.

- Look closer. Look at his forehead.

For the first time you noticed that the man was wearing a white protector around his head, covering his forehead. On its front you saw an emblem that answered all your questions as soon as you recognized it: you were a teacher once; you had to spent time surrounded by books and scrolls that told you the history of the land where you lived, and many times your eyes met the symbols of its most prominent clans. That symbol belonged to one of them – the Senju.

So that was…

Madara seemed to read your thoughts even before you verbalized them.

- I think you figured it out by now – you heard him laugh to himself – That man is the head of the Senju clan. His name is Hashirama. You’ve probably heard about him. About the cognomen that was given to him.

Your reply was automatic, as if it wasn’t coming from your mouth.

- The God of Shinobi.

- Yes. It’s good to see that you know part of the story – Madara complimented in a cheerful tone, ignoring what was taking place before you – This sensation you have, that you’ve seen him before, is easy to explain. You’ve seen him in my memories yesterday. Hashirama was the boy you saw at the river with me.

You turned to him to hear more, leaving the battle behind. Its sounds diminished as Madara spoke; what he had to say now was more important than that vision.

- Hashirama and I were friends at some point of our lives. This friendship did not last long, and perhaps it was for the best. Today, we are what you would call rivals. What you just saw is nothing compared to what he is capable of doing. And the same can be said about me, I must point out.

You sensed your eyes widening. What you just saw was enough for you to understand why people called him a god. Madara laughed at your reaction.

- Don’t you see, girl? – his fingers caressed your cheek as he spoke – This is one of the countless memories I have regarding our meetings. In this one in particular, we were not dancing with everything we got. We were just rehearsing.

- Dancing...? – you immediately remembered of your training and felt ridiculous.

- Hashirama is the only person who is able to dance in a way that entertains me. Things use to get a bit tedious when you are surrounded by people who aren’t able to follow your rhythm, so that someone like him is quite necessary. It brings balance to everything.

While those words were said, you felt a slow, subtle change in the environment around you two. The lights and shadows created by the fires and the wood were fading into something constant, calm as a morning sun, and the with it came a breeze that you welcomed with your heart after the intense atmosphere you experienced moments before as it brought delicate rosy petals to fly around you like silent birds.

You look around, at them, and saw that you were back to the garden. The vision was over, and the change in the scenario served as proof. Madara had his arms around you now, and you were grateful for that, for you weren’t sure if your feet wouldn’t fail you after your return to reality. When you raised to eyes to him, his eyes were dark again, and they were turned to you. Only then you felt the impact provoked by what you witnessed.

Just like the Senju warrior, Madara Uchiha carried enough power to transform the maps of the known world inside him. Yet he called the spectacle he just showed you a rehearsal, and your surprise and admiration was a source of diversion to him.

And to think that you were now the wife of such man, destined to sleep by his side for the rest of your life, and that his hands were around you, keeping you close as you trembled before a vision…

You laid your head on his shoulder and he tightened the embrace. You stood there in silence, sensing him breathing in and out; soon your own breath adjusted its rhythm to his. After everything you saw, it was clear that any preoccupation about his integrity was silly, not to say worthless. But you were the one who asked for an assurance, and Madara gave it to you.

You were going to be careful about what you ask from him from now on.

[woman-of-culture]

The traitor (1/2)

Dabi x reader

Part 2

Warnings: Dabis identity, 3rd year age up, this does not accurately follow the plot when it comes to timing and character introduction, (most likely) a lot of grammatical errors

This is gonna be a 2 part story with the smut in the 2nd part! (Not to mention it’s gonna be much longer)

The semester is finally over! No more assignments and no more work so I present to you my first ever fanfiction. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words: 3,056

The League of villains might not have the best plans. Sometimes, they're poorly thought out, other times... Again, not all that effective.

From their poor managing skills to the attack on USJ where they consequentially lost the perfect nomu, their planning could use ‘some’ work. The leader, Shigaraki, being quite immature for his position, executed his plans prematurely and without much thought - oftentimes underestimating his opponents (even if they were just high school first years). Saying he has a ways to go from being the perfect leader would be an understatement.

But no matter how much you complain, you can’t ignore the fact that he’s also a valiant leader who fights for what he thinks is right, even if he does need some help along the way. That’s where you come in, being Shigarakis right hand (wo)man, alongside Kurogiri, wasn’t an easy job. Having to deal with his temper tantrums, being forced to execute a plan you didn’t 100% agree with and having your advice ignored completely most of the time wasn’t exactly what you thought joining The League of Villains would be like, but eh, nothing ever goes the way you want it to.

Which is exactly what led to this situation.

"So let me get this straight..." You say, whilst letting out an exasperated sigh "You want to kidnap and persuade, of all people, Bakugou Katsuki to turn on his dream of becoming a hero just because you've seen him compete in the sports festival?"

Not really getting your point, Shigaraki just nods with an assertive "Yes"

"No" You turn your back on him, disappointed he would even suggest this thought.

Narrowing his eyes, as if to challenge any further refusal on your part, he demands to know why you so vehemently refuse the suggestion of your next big mission.

Not at all wavering with your determination, you look him in the eyes, practically begging for him to understand how fruitless this endeavor would be.

"He might act...villainous when facing certain confrontation but he is solely focused on becoming the number one pro hero one day, it would take a hell of a lot more than just kidnapping and talking for him to turn his back on that dream. He’s determined, passionate and has a real fighting spirit. I believe if you really want him to join you need to break his spirit in some way, target him when he’s at his lowest"

Contemplating your words for merely a second he decided against listening to reason on the ground ‘It’s the perfect next move for the League to cause distrust among society, even if he refuses there will be chaos from the fact that we managed to capture a UA student whilst on a training camp.’”

Seeing no point in arguing further, you declare that you will have no part in this plan since:

1) You truly believe this will end up a failure

2) You are a student participating in the training camp and your involvement would be too risky

"Goddamn it, I knew I shouldn't have told you where the training camp will be held..." You mutter under your breath, as you look to Kurogiri, who has been silent during that whole argument, to open a portal to your apartment.

Exhausted and in need of some food, you trudge your way up to the small apartment you've called home ever since AFO took you in 4 years ago.

It was a small one bedroom apartment fit for one person, certainly better than the streets you've come to know so well during your years of desperation and homelessness.

A sigh of relief escaping once you managed to close your door and take off your shoes.

"Good evening doll."

"Good evening burnt rat, who I specifically warned not to come here anymore."

He winced, as if the comment actually hurt his feelings. "Ouch, why the sour attitude sweetheart?" Walking up to the couch, glaring at your ‘guest’ who had decided to make himself at home despite your warnings of dumping his body in the nearest ditch.

“You tell me Dabi, why in the world would you continue coming here after all my threats and the fact UA is 5 minutes from here?” “Isn’t it obvious? Despite your constant nagging, you never kick me out, you have a pretty fucking nice TV and not to mention you’re a decent cook.”

Ah, Dabi...one of the newest members of the League who joined not even 2 weeks ago. He’s a peculiar guy who comes to raid your fridge and annoy the shit out of you every other day, refusing to leave until the next morning to go God knows where. When it comes to the topic of kicking him out...you never seem to find the will to do so, whether it be the crippling loneliness forcing you to get some form of social interaction or the fact you find his company kinda enjoyable. Of course, you wouldn’t admit either to anyone even if it costs you your life.

You look at his form lounging on the couch in his pants and pale gray, scoop-neck shirt. “So, I’m guessing you ate my dinner again...?” You picked up his dark blue jacket that was lazily tossed onto the back of the sofa and made your way to the front door in order to hang it, just then noticing the dark dress shoes placed haphazardly next to the shoe rack.

With a sly wink sent your way he confirms he ate the tempura you prepared that afternoon. “But you know what? Could you be a sweetheart and make some more food? It was just so delicious but unfortunately not all that filling.” He asked, hoping flattery will get him some more food.

Looking into the fridge you could physically feel a headache coming when you confirm no tempura in sight. You would feel more frustrated if a brilliant idea didn’t come up that second. “Listen Dabi, let’s make a deal.” You turn the corner, ready to give him an ultimatum. “Oh? Where is this going? In exchange for some of your cooking I’d eat something else out first?” He tries to guess, suggestively lifting one eyebrow whilst crossing his arms at the back of his head.

Stopping in your tracks, you look at him speechless, the blood rushing to your cheeks undeniably creating a faint pink blush.”W-what!? No, you asshole! T-tomorrow are final exams so I wanted to suggest you spar with me and after I’d cook anything you want.” In what little time you knew Dabi, that was the first suggestive comment he has made towards you, breaking your thoughts for a hot second - enough to make you stutter during your protest.

Looking proud with the pink he managed to conjure on your cheeks, he closed his eyes with a smirk on his mismatched, pale-burnt lips. “Don’t know ‘bout that doll, sounds like too much work and I’ve had a long day.” He groans to emphasize his point.

“Ok then, starve”

...

“Well, actually-...”

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

The next day, during the practical exam, you ended up with Jirou against Present Mic (I’m sorry Koji but plot) which you managed to win with ease considering Dabi helped you strategize. Not to mention he gave you tips on how to improve your quirk which you implemented in the battle only to end up victorious. You’d probably need to thank him later.

Whilst reminiscing on the event, Aizawa enters into the classroom informing that no one will be left out of the training camp, but the ones who failed will receive harsher training. He gave out lodge guides and all the information needed (which you of course knew thanks to sneaking into the teachers lounge after hours) Everyone also decided to go on a shopping trip to buy the necessary things for the trip, with the exceptions of you, Bakugou and Todoroki.

Worrying about the events that will transpire did you no good so you contently walked home thinking of going to the store for some ingredients in case a certain uninvited guest decided to show up again.

Thinking about what will inevitably happen reminded you of the fact you haven’t visited the bar since your little disagreement with Shigaraki. ‘I guess I can’t blame him, even if Bakugou doesn’t join it will still provoke some fear and distrust among the general public, I guess I should apologize to him...’

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

“TOMURA!” The bar rattles with the impact of the door against the wall, barely keeping itself on it’s hinges after the kind of force you used. The people inside the bar looking at you with mixed emotions, some shocked, some indifferent and some enjoying the drama. Spinner, Toga, Dabi, Magne and Kurogiri silently looking at you for answers to their unanswered questions while Shigaraki looks at you completely shocked for he has not yet seen such an outburst from you.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be your plan? How careless can you be? In order for a stunt like this to succeed you’d need to be extra careful and methodical. Yet, what do you do? You confront Midoriya at the mall as if it wouldn’t have consequences”

“Oh, that’s all?” He returns to his planning as if you didn’t almost break down the door.

“What do you mean ‘that’s all’? Do you understand how irresponsible that was, you could have gotten caught! The whole mall was swarming with police officers literally 5 minutes after your little ‘chat’.”

“They wouldn’t have caught me even if they showed up that instant, if you used your brain you would remember that Kurogiri could just teleport me out.” Scratching his neck, clearly done with this conversation, he turned to walk away to get some quiet to finalize the plan in peace.

“You don’t get it do you? Aizawa announced the camp will not be held in the forest lodge it’s usually held every year because of this ‘incident’.” You explain taking a step to his form that stopped walking the moment those words left your lips. He turned, the scratching getting more violent by the second. “Well, where is it then?”

You don’t want to admit it but the way he looked at you, as if it was your fault the camp relocated, sent a chill down your spine. “I don’t know, the new location won’t be revealed until we get there.”

“Then you’ll send your location the moment you get there, is that so hard?” You felt your anger and frustration bubble the moment he dismissed the problem as if it were nothing, however you continued your calm-ish facade. “Tomura, I’m begging you to understand! With this there are a lot more unknown variables. You won’t have time to prepare, to get to know the layout, the schedule, anything! You’ll be going in there blind, this is definitely not a safe plan for the members. What if some of them get caught? What if-...”

You weren’t even able to finish the rest of your concern before he yelled out for you to shut up, that it was none of your concern since you weren’t apart of this mission. “We will simply have Dabi burn down half of the woods so they won’t know what’s going on, the rest only concerns the participants of this plan which, again, you are NOT, now LEAVE!”

You looked Tomura in the eyes, tears welling up in yours due to the sheer frustration of the situation. Did your opinion really mean so little to the man? You wanted nothing more than the success of the League, to fulfill your debt to AFO for saving you so many years ago. Sometimes staying up past 3 AM helping with whatever you could just because you felt as if the League really needed you. Were you really so useless to the man before you, who you would consider a dear friend, family? He ignored your advice, existence even, except when he needed insider information. You were quiet most of the time, rarely giving resistance to the point your bottled up feeling reached their limits. You lifted your head, a single tear making its way down your face as you uttered your next words.

“I will send you the location, I will figure out the schedule, I will inform you on everyone's position during the attack but just know this Tomura, your carelessness will shoot you down from that pedestal you made for yourself. You’re childish, immature, naive and juvenile. If you continue thinking you can do all of this alone it’s gonna cost you your life, the members lives, masters life-...”

That was the trigger...the last straw that finally diminished his last nerve. Lunging at you with all five fingers ready to disintegrate your arm as a form of cruel punishment. It was like slow motion, not really thinking of this outcome proved to be your downfall as you could only watch his hand getting closer.

20 centimeters...

10 centimeters...

5....

Oh fuck...

As if God heard your prayers, an arm found it’s way around your waist, pulling you to a lean, muscular chest while the other grabbed Shigarakis, pulling it away from your form and pressing his hand, that was moments away from your trembling arm, onto the counter, decaying a part of the wood until there was nothing but dust left.

The shock of the situation being felt all around the room. You didn’t fully process the severity of the event until Dabi let out a low growl, ready to use his quirk if need be. Looking up his face, situated not even 5 cm away from your own, you saw the burning fire behind his glare directed at Shigaraki, a threat, daring him to move a single finger in your direction.

In any other situation you’d pull his arm off, threatening to cut it off. However, this wasn’t any other situation. His warmth providing a sense of security you’ve never felt before, making you wish it could stay there just a minute longer. His natural musk invading your senses, calming your pounding heart to the point you almost forgot the predicament you got yourself into.

All too soon, he let go of you only to pull you behind his back with his arm stretched to the side, blocking the view of your leader with his back. Relieved, angry, confused, terrified... You couldn’t exactly categorize your feelings, the information not fully processed in your mind. You grabbed onto the back of his jacket as a means to get closer to him, scrunching it between your fingers to keep him where he is.

Whilst this was going on, Shigaraki looked at his hand, eyes wide open. For a few seconds he couldn’t fathom what he just tried to do. He looked at your form, cowering behind Dabi who only glared daggers at him silently questioning his actions.

“Out.” was the only word able to come out of his throat, not knowing how to deal with the consequences of the previous moment.

Not needing to be told twice, you ran out of the bar as fast as your legs could take you. Stumbling on your own feet, chest heaving and vision blurry you didn’t notice the set of footsteps following behind you until a hand reached out stopping you in your tracks. You panicked, kicking at your assailant in an attempt to get free.

“Calm down, would ya? It’s only me...” Turning around, to face what you had correctly presumed to be Dabi, you lunged out of his grasp narrowly missing the wall behind you.

“Why did you do that?”  “What do you mean why?” He looked at you, not understanding the point of the question. “I mean... Why did you jump in to defend me? This was between me and him. Don’t get me wrong I more than appreciate your help but why... You ran the risk of a fight, not to mention injury, just because i provoked him.” You said, your gaze following the trail of his body further down till you reached his black shoes.

He scoffed, as if you just uttered the stupidest sentence he has ever heard. “Provoked? What you did in there proved you have some serious balls. You pointed out the flaws in the plan and confronted hand-job about them. You prioritized every ones safety over some mission and even put yourself at risk by ultimately agreeing to the plan and sending vital information that will be used.” He took a step forward, lifting your head between his index and thumb caressing your cheek along the way to hopefully calm you some more if his words didn’t help.

“That being said, you should still have some faith in us, well, in me specifically.” He smirked noticing the corner of your lips twitch up at his comment. “I’ll burn down every obstacle, every hero that comes in my way so you won’t have to worry so much.” Finally, pressing his forehead to your own he managed to fully calm your nerves, unintentionally, you also synced up your breathing to match his.

You looked at his beautiful teal colored eyes unable to focus on any of your surroundings ‘Were his eyes always so mesmerizing?’ You felt your eyelids droop almost closing them by the time he took your hand in his and started to lead you down the road. “H-huh? Wait, where are we going?” “We’re going to your apartment to eat something and sleep, perhaps watch a movie to forget today.”

You look at the man in front of you, his coat waving with the wind to make the moment just that much more special. Has he always been like this? He actually made the effort to defend you, to run after you when you thought nobody cared. He assured you that what you did was the right thing and plans to make you forget what happened today. Did you finally have someone that cared for you?

“Yeah, sounds good”

(A/N This was my first ever attempt at writing so I hope I didn’t flunk it TOO bad. And I’m not all that satisfied with this but eh... I feel bad for having to cut it short, but I actually got requests to do more stories and I’m bad at multitasking so I’m terribly sorry for the precious users that sent me requests and the readers that want a part 2, maybe)

[themadauthorshatter]

Valentine's Day is over, but there's always a chance to be cupid.

I've already made two posts on this, so let's get the third rolling!!!!!

Here's what would happen if Cal was betrothed to Iris headcanons/story Part 3!!!!!

There are a lot of cameras on the way home, and Cal wants to break every single one after being exposed to the flashing lights and yelled at by interviewers.

It's silent when they actually get on the road home and head back, but there is high tension between the father and son.

"Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Don't try to keep it in, Cal. Just say it."

(After a minute of silence.) "There are at least ten ways this can go badly. We can't let our guard down."

"I imagine one of those ways involves those two chaining us to canons and throwing us in the ocean."

(Cue Cal's serious WTF face and Tiberias snickering because he thinks it's funny, even though there is truth in Cal's words.)

"I'm being serious."

"I know." (Tibe's smirk drops and he looks out the window.) "At least the war is over."

(Cal also looks out the window.) "Why did it take so long?"

(He's mostly talking to himslef more than anything because he already knows that Reds outnumber Silvers.)

There's a lot of fanfare when they get back to White Fire, and Cal is quick to escape to change his clothes, as he has a little bit of time to rest before it's back on schedule, with Maven following, after the cameras turn to Tibe instead.

The two talk and Maven admits that Cal probably has it lucky, since Iris seems to part crowds like their the Red Sea.

Cal ponders that Evangeline can do the same, but Maven reminds him of House Samos's reputation.

With Orrec and Iris, the two are approached by Elara, who is miraculous at hiding her disdain towards them both("Filthy Lakelanders in MY palace. Who does my husband think he is?"). Orrec plays nice until he sees and hears his daughter wince at his side.

He asks where Tibe is, to which the Nortan king arrives, fashionably late, and then, very cleverly, I must say, tells Iris to look for her betrothed, as it's best the two get to know each other before their wedding, get comfortable with each other's presence, if you will.

She nods and, after a quick fatherly hand rub from Orrec, leaves the adults to tear each other to ribbons- I MEAN... Converse pleasantly.😁

Tibe notes that Iris doesn't talk much, to which Orrec says he shouldn't be worried, as she is quite outspoken, and reminds him that she already VERBALLY swore herself to Cal.

While Tibe talks, Elara tries taking a peek into Orrec's head, but can only read "up front" thoughts and nothing deeper. Tibe brings up a very darkly colored ring on Orrec's finger, one that seems to be too common for a wedding band or a King to wear.

Orrec holds it up with a smirk and tells them it's "just a bit of silent stone to repel any whispering insects that try to puppeteer them." Elara asks if he's had experience, or any "trouble" with whispers.

"We used to. My men know how to deal with your kind, Queen Elara."

With a sudden chill, Elara and Tibe don't entertain what that means as Orrec asks Tibe to show him around, as he and Iris will be staying for a while.

Tibe obviously agrees.

Elara watches them go and SEETHES as she realizes the slight of hand trick that Orrec pulled with Iris.

I won't give it away, but the only hints I'll give you are they've had experience with whispers, they've erased whispers in the Lakelands, regardless of their House, and the amount of silent stone in Orrec's ring will keep Elara out of his head.

Speakimg of which, Iris wanders around for a bit, unable to find her absent, and undutiful in her opinion, betrothed. She finds herself near the garage and hears more classic rock music; it's blaring this time because she can hear the clanging of tools and metal.

She lets herself in and sees Cal working on the transport like before, more efficiently, I should add, now that he's not being a rebellious teenager.

Here is their conversation:

"Don't you have any Reds that can do that instead?"

(Cal yelps as he jumps and bangs his head on the part of the transport he'd been working on; he didn't really hear the door and got jumpscared.)

"My colors, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

(While rolling out from under the transport and holding his forehead.) "It's-It's fine, don't worry." (Stands and gives a bow, despite the pain of headbutting what is a ton or two of metal.) "Lady Iris. My warmest welcome to Norta."

(Iris curtsies back, very tense because Cal is underdressed for his first official meeting with Iris and he isn't as threatening as she'd seen back near the Choke. She's also inwardly cringing at the pun.) "Prince Tiberias Calore VII, I presume?"

"Please, call me Cal, Lady Iris."

"Cal. Just call me Iris, then, considering the circumstances."

(Cal deflates and cleans his hands off with a rag, some unease growing on his face.) "Don't remind me."

(Iris takes note of the scars on Cal's arms and the back of his neck before she turns her attention to the transport.) "Is this what you Nortan people do for leisure? Lie under a three ton transport and hope for the best?"

(Cal turns back around and follows her gaze, a smirk growing on his face.) "I wasn't just "lying" there. And it's just under two tons. Good guess, though."

(Iris gives him WTF eye this time as Cal picks up some tools and rests back on the board he he was.)

"You're not REALLY going to go back underneath this, are you?"

"Well, someone has to fix it. It's been leaking oil. I'LL be fine, but I still don't want to take the chance."

(Iris hugs herself as she eyes the jacks holding up the transport and sees Cal working like nothing's wrong.) "And in the event this transport were to... fall on you?"

(Cal's turn to give WTF eyes as he rolls back out from under the transport. Iris is still standing straight and hugging herself out of sheer nerve, but Cal gestures toward the tool box on the table.) "Sorry, do you think you can stand over there? In case I might need something?"

"As in you need another hot on the head?" (Iris still stands by the tool box, just in case; temptation, temptation, temptation to end this betrothal and play it off like an accident on either side.)

(Cal rolls back out and sits up.) "Are you underestimating my ability to build, Iris?"

(Iris holds her hands above her lap, that one formal way princesses hold their hands, and gives a very "don't get ahead of yourself" look to Cal.) "I am starting to believe you are tempting fate, and trying to take the easiest and worst way out of our arrangement."

"Just because I didn't agree with this doesn't mean I won't be going through with it."

(Iris pulls him back out from under the transport and stares him dead in the eye.) "How coincidental that I feel the same way. Allow to make one thing clear, Tiberias: Our houses and countries may be allying, but I will not hesitate to wipe you and the entire Calore AND Merandus lines off the face of the Earth."

(Cal drops the reluctant groom-to-be and sits up, eyes burning through Iris aas he smirks again.) "It's funny you should bring that up, Iris." (The smirk drops.) "I was just about to say the same thing."

"You would really restart this entire war? Are the lives of your drunk father and bastard brother worth more death?"

"I imagine your father's done well in battle, at least enough to stop looking over his shoulder. He may be out of his territory, but I know how to deal with a man like him. And a lady like you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Try me."

The two have a glare down before Iris rises and walks away, warning to Cal to not challenge her again, if he knows what's good for him. And if he doesn't want to have any regrets about their betrothal.

Cal watches her leave and goes back to fixing the transport, slowly realizing that he might be in a similar relationship as Tibe and Elara, which he isn't too happy about. Sure, the same might've happened with Evangeline, but Iris is a blank slate and already they want to kill each other. I don't know about you, but I'd be pretty sad if THIS was the start of my marriage.

Nevertheless, a Queestrial is held FOR MAVEN, and Cal and Iris watch with the family, including Orrec.

NONE of the girls are happy Cal already has Iris with him, but they're not going to do anything because the war's over and they know NOTHING about Cal's betrothed.

Evangeline is especially pissed, giving Iris the same treatment as Mare, but Iris sighs and replies BACK to her this:

"How sad the only thing you people see in someone is how they can be used to your advantage. How sad, indeed."

This shuts Evangeline right up.

The betrothal to both brothers occurs, though Cal and Iris have another glare down before turning to their seats.

Cal notes the tattoo on her back and wonders when she got that done.

Nevertheless, there's barley opposition, because the war's over, but Volo Samos is still pissed, even though he can't argue with the results.

The night ends with Orrec escorting Iris to her room after all is said and done in the banquet. Maven muses that he and Cal sure are lucky, even though this is not what was probably meant to happen.

In his room, Cal hopes that things can at least get better between him and Iris. This may be a political marriage, but if Orrec and Cenra found love, why can't Cal and Iris?

And this has been Part 3! Kind of fanfic-y than parts 1 and 2, but I still hope you guys enjoyed

[illegiblewords]

Fic Writer Meme

Swiped this because it looked like fun!

Name

Fandoms

Most popular oneshot

Most popular multichapter

Actual worst part of writing

How you choose your titles

Do you outline

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?

Callouts @ Me

Best writing traits

Spicy Tangential Opinion

Tagging: @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @parvus-pica, @peregrineroad, @spiral-seeker, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @maccaroni-eh, @entropytea, @prettyparadoxes, @ivalane, @kunstpause, @fogfens

Name: Illegible or Illegiblewords lately. I’ve switched it in the past a few times.

Fandoms: I’ve been in Final Fantasy XIV for the past couple of years now. Passively I might be in Pathologic fandom and Dragon Age fandom? Maybe others too on and off. I was in comic fandoms for a long time but honestly that spiraled into a hot mess of epic proportions so I’ve mostly peaced out of there. Still love stories, characters, and buddies from there though.

Most Popular Oneshot: Ironically it’s Ideation for Bladerunner 2049 haha. I did exactly one fic there right after seeing the movie and didn’t go back, but I thought it was very good and I had a specific story I wanted to tell. It’s one of my most popular fics, and given it’s gen too I’m actually kind of happy about that.

Most Popular Multichapter: The Immortal Wound for FFXIV fandom! I had only just started writing for the fandom, and the series leading up to this fic was my first time writing NPC shipping in FFXIV. I was seriously, SERIOUSLY nervous at first! I wrote the first fic, Posturing, as a personal challenge to do an ambiguous protagonist/NPC since I saw other people doing that and wanted to see if I could pull it off. Posted it at around 4 in the morning then deleted within a few minutes out of anxiety lol. A week went by before I read it again, realized I still liked it, and put it back up for good. That being well-received helped encourage me to keep trying, and by The Immortal Wound it was getting solid attention. The experience really meant a lot to me!

Actual Worst Part of Writing: Probably chapter maps within the outlining process for me. It’s needed for how I approach things, but shit is anxiety-inducing and stressful af lol. I basically plan each event out in high detail before actually writing the fic, so when the time comes for me to legit write I’m more or less following a plan I can trust. Making that plan is the tough part.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: Often titles are the last things I figure out before starting the fic itself. I know I like punchy stuff if I can manage. Sometimes it’ll be one word, sometimes it’ll be a quote or song lyric, sometimes it’ll be a saying, sometimes it’ll be a phrase that feels fitting. I go fast and loose usually, and tbh I’ve tried to tell myself not to overthink it too hard. I do try title related works in ways that have some thematic link when I can.

Do You Outline: HahahahahaHAHAHAHAhaha yeah. Straight up my outlines are eldritch terrors for their detail, length, and complexity. I don’t mean that as a brag at all, seriously--I tend to get frozen a bit if I don’t have an outline by and large because it’s hard for me to keep track of what’s in my head and plan accordingly. Just end up with too many moving parts + revision and pacing get wonky otherwise.

Depending on the project I might have sections tied to setting, characters, magic systems, religions, etc. at the top. Fanfic this is less likely but does crop up sometimes.

To give an example of the first bullet of the first chapter of an ongoing fic:

Post-Shinryu, the Warrior of Light lingers in the Royal Menagerie alone at his own insistence to search for the Eye of Nidhogg. In the process he remembers the fight against Zenos and Shinryu. Note he was overcome by an almost feral rage at Zenos’ assumption that he was the target of anything resembling lust. Those attentions (“bite down upon my jugular”) belong to another, but note similarities of two pale-eyed, long-haired blondes. Seeing Shinryu, the Warrior had no idea whether Lahabrea survived within. The fusion was horrifying to see and as he fought he didn’t hold back because besides obvious dangers, he was also ready to mercy kill if needed. Also note Warrior wanted to intervene against Thordan for Lahabrea but wasn’t fast enough, questions a little privately how far he’d have gone against him. It might not have mattered even if he’d managed since he knows Lahabrea was going crazy and unable to listen. Locating and examining the Eye, he recognizes how drained it is. Certainly not enough to threaten him when dealing with post-battle exhaustion. So he reaches inside with his own aether, relentless in pushing aside every foreign element—Nidhogg, Thordan, the corrupted Rhalgr, the places Zenos caged them all under his own will. Zodiark’s tempering is what helps him ultimately find Lahabrea, who is barely alive. Zodiark’s tempering has preserved what it could but has a much more tenuous grip in consequence. When the Warrior finds him Lahabrea isn’t even aware, functionally unconscious. The tempering flares against him defensively and this time the Warrior focuses on it. This is all that has allowed Lahabrea to stay alive. He could force himself closer but there is no vessel. Besides, the process of separating a fragile soul so deficient in aether is too great a risk. So he keeps the Eye.

It’s not the only bullet of comparable size for that chapter. The overall piece has at least 40 total chapters, but probably more.

Ideas I Probably Won’t Get Around To, But Wouldn’t It Be Nice: Tbh probably some of the earlier WIPs I have that aren’t finished already. Not just FFXIV (Dead Language, With Good Intentions) but other fandoms. I could end up circling back in the future one day but who knows.

Callouts @ Me: “NO MORE WIPS HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE OVER 20″, “RELEARN HOW TO DO DRABBLES”, “GET UR PRESENTS DONE”, “REVIEW OTHERS MORE THE STAGE FRIGHT IS RIDICULOUS”.

Best Writing Traits: I try to write any character as the hero of their own story/with the capacity to be someone’s favorite. I do my research and prioritize telling a good story first and foremost. I can change my writing style according to need and am good at capturing the cadence and word choices of different characters.

Spicy Tangential Opinion: If no transaction has been made (esp. monetary), no one owes you shit online. Not reviews, not hits, not praise, not agreement, not content of any sort. It sucks to feel like you’re creating to a void. It sucks to be passionately in love with a rarepair when other ships are drowning in art and stories.

People still don’t owe you.

If you don’t like someone else’s content, create something exploring what you do like... or even why you don’t like that content. Tell a story. Create art. Make photosets and playlists and analyses. If it is not a literal crime (as opposed to portraying fictional crime), don’t discourage other creators no matter how awful you might find their stuff. Lend your own voice to an alternative as convincingly as you can. And if that doesn’t persuade others, you need to keep honing your own skills.

If you want more of something to exist, spread inspiration. Again this can be in storytelling, art, photosets, playlists, analysis, you name it. Give form to your passion. And if others disagree or don’t respond, keep working at it. This is a skill too, and it takes practice.

I’ve found it shows when work is created out of a sense of guilt, fear, or obligation. The quality is much lower and no one latches on to keep building in-turn. And IMO it is essential to build up rather than tearing down.

[ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife]

MAG 018 - The Man Upstairs

Summary: Jonathan reads the statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding “his interactions with a first-floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.”

Obligatory confession of American confusion: This episode is about 23 minutes long, and it took me until somewhere around the 20-minute mark before I had my light-bulb moment about Toby Carlisle being a “first-floor resident”. By “first floor” he means “SECOND floor” in American speak. Yes, that’s right - I spent almost the entire episode confused about which floor this guy really lived on. (For anyone not in the know, in the U.S. the “first floor” is the floor that you walk into a building on, that you don’t use any steps or stairs to access. It is also called the ground floor - they are the same thing. If you go up one flight of stairs, you are now on the second floor, not the first.)

The first-floor-second-floor thing was pretty much the only mystery I solved this episode though. I definitely enjoyed the episode (despite feeling like throwing up myself at some of the descriptions), but as with most of the episodes, I’m left with far more questions and tantalizing clues than actual answers.

Christof describes the odd, unpleasant odor around Toby Carlisle as “halfway between the smell of the pavement after a rain on a hot day and chicken that’s starting to turn”. The second part of that makes sense, given the state of Toby’s apartment when Christof enters it at the end, but I’m having trouble placing what exactly that first part is supposed to smell like. More interesting to me though is the fact that the smell was already there when Christof moved in, even though the banging from Toby’s apartment didn’t start until almost two years later. It seems reasonable to assume the banging was Toby nailing the various meats to the walls, floor, ceiling, etc., but if that’s the case, then where was that smell coming from for the years prior to that? Did it originate with Toby himself, or did his excess meat problem cause the smell long before he actually started nailing them to the walls?

When Christof returned the incorrectly delivered package to Toby’s apartment, we get possibly the most detailed description of any part of Toby in the entire episode: “The hand was thin and pale, with long, filthy yellow fingernails. On the back, I saw a single dark red mark that might have been a cut or a lesion, but it was gone before I had a chance to see it in more detail.” The “single dark red mark” is likely the beginning of the “puckered, septic lesions and holes” Christof sees in Toby’s dead face at the end of the episode (some part of me wants to say it reminds me of Jared Key’s eye tattoos from episode 12...but I’m trying to ignore that possibility), but the fingernails are what really piqued my interest. Christof tells himself for most of the episode that Toby just has a severe hygiene issue, but if it was straight-up uncleanliness, his fingernails would be primarily brown or black, caked with dirt or grime, that sort of thing. Instead, they are yellow more than anything else. This is the first of five mentions of the color yellow in this episode - the second is the color of the growing stain on Christof’s dining room ceiling, the third is the color of the liquid that oozes out of the hole in the ceiling after it collapses, the fourth is the color of the rotting meat covering Toby’s apartment, and the fifth is the color of the “fluid” that “oozed” from the creepy af pile of meat in Toby’s kitchen. The similarity in the colors indicates a direct connection between Toby himself (that is, his body) and the rotten meat. But the pieces of meat that lined his apartment were, in Christof’s estimation, pieces of various non-human animals - so if we take him at his word, the rotten meat wasn’t literally from Toby, so something external caused both Toby and the meat to excrete that sickly yellow rot.

So what made it target or infect Toby? No clue, since we don’t have any background on him, but I sure hope it wasn’t done by touch alone: Christof got some of that yellow slime on his jacket sleeve when Toby snatched the package from him. He said he couldn’t get rid of the smell and eventually threw the jacket out - but then he accidentally touched the stuff while fumbling for the light switch in Toby’s apartment at the end. When they followed up with him, he said “he had had no further experiences he believed to be linked to these events” and I don’t have any specific reason to disbelieve that - except that that means Toby wasn’t infected by just touching the wrong thing (or person). This isn’t a Jane Prentiss-type infection. So what’s Toby’s story?

And just what was in that package? “The envelope was thick and soft - it must have been mainly full of bubble wrap or other packing material.” So...it wasn’t meat? Because that would have been two puzzle pieces fitting together quite nicely, canceling each other out, and I’m more than a little irked that that wasn’t the case. It’s like Jonathan said at the end: “Where was he getting the meat?” At first, the sheer quantity of meat reminded me, vaguely, of the bag of teeth from episode 5. Both were a multitude of body parts. But those teeth were human and the meat is (apparently) from animals, and all the teeth were identical, whereas these meats are all different cuts from different animals. Notably, they’re all animals that are typically eaten by humans - Christof mentions steaks, chicken, and lamb among them. This seems to be more of that theme of rotten food, although in this case I think the “rotten” is more important than the “food”.

Despite all these questions I have, none of these things are directly harmful. Sure, Christof’s ceiling caves in, but no one besides Toby dies or gets hurt (that we know of). But that pile at the end...I got some Seriously Bad Vibes from that. To recap, Christof found in Toby’s kitchen “a pile of discarded meat and bone stacked almost as high as a person. It seemed almost less decayed than the rest of it, though that foul yellow fluid oozed from it, and…when I looked at that heaped pile of meat…it moved. I don’t know how - I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes. The next thing I remember is the police’s arrival” - and then suddenly the pile of meat was gone. There are two things here - inherently connected, I’m sure - that I’d like to point out.

First is the eyes. Creepy or out-of-place eyes have been mentioned every few episodes so far in the series: in the painting on Mary Key’s wall in episode 4, in Wilfred Owen’s death in episode 7, in the eye pendants in episode 9, in Jared Key’s eye tattoos in episode 12 (as well as the eye in the security camera in that same episode). And with each new appearance (particularly the one in this episode) I’m starting to get more and more worried about whatever being or creature or presence the eyes belong to.

Which brings me to the second thing. One of the recurring themes in these stories has been what I’ve taken to calling “altered reality” - when things appear one way but, we find out later, were actually quite different. When Graham is confused by Amy mentioning his nonexistent window box in episode 3. When Laura tries to reverse out of the squeeze in the cave in episode 15 and her foot hits solid rock. When the pile of meat straight-up disappears in this very episode. I want to be clear - those examples of “altered reality” are not what I’m talking about when I discuss a new (to me) theme: the incomprehensible. This pile of...whatever...in Toby’s kitchen is literally incomprehensible to Christof. He can’t even put into words what he saw. It’s like either the words don’t exist to describe what he saw or his brain can’t comprehend it - or possibly both. He says, “when I looked at that heaped pile of meat…it moved. I don’t know how - I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes.” Being unable to trust your senses due to some “altered reality” is terrifying, but to experience something that is literally incomprehensible and indescribable is just another level of terrifying. And the one thing most clearly intertwined with this incomprehensibility Christof experiences? The eyes. Specifically, the eyes opening.

We’ve seen this incomprehensibility before, albeit in slightly less terrifying (IMO) situations. In episode 3, Amy describes the creature entering Graham’s window: “When I say it moved, that’s not quite right - it shifted. Like when you stare at one of those old magic eye paintings and you change from seeing one picture into seeing another.” But much more blatantly and recently, in episode 17 Sebastian describes reading an excerpt from The Boneturner’s Tale: the Boneturner “crept up to the Miller while he slept. It described him silently reaching inside him and…it’s a bit hazy. All I remember clearly is the line ‘and from his rib a flute to play that merry tune of marrow took’. And as for the rest, I don’t recall in detail.” The second example concerns me much more than the first. I feel bad for Graham, of course, and I really want to know what that creature was...but The Boneturner’s Tale was a Leitner and seemed to have the power to deform anyone who touched it.

By themselves, it doesn’t appear that the eyes are doing anything. They’re just eyes, after all. No limbs, no body. But I don’t know if they really are just watching, or if their form and actions are so incomprehensible to humans that the people in these stories essentially can’t perceive it. And if they are just watching...what are they watching for, and what’s going to happen when they see it?

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

[my-major-is-k-howard]

She

Inspired by “She” by dodie. I’m back with Part 3! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story so far. You all mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of you SO MUCH. ❤️ I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2535

Part 1 Part 2

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Part 3

Cathy spent the next few hours reading from her new book. She had planned on finishing the book that day but her mind kept drifting off to a certain green-eyed queen. By the time Cathy reached the middle of the book, she could no longer focus on the words on the page. The events of earlier that day still nagged in the back of her head, making the simple act of reading nearly impossible.

Cathy let out a breath and closed the book. Maybe Anne would like some company if she wasn’t busy. Cathy could tell her about The Picture of Dorian Gray, or at least the parts she remembered when she wasn’t distracted. She should also thank Anne again for the photo booth pictures and let her know that she was putting them to good use. Cathy smiled at the thought and resolved to go look for Anne.

As Cathy opened the door of her bedroom, she was greeted by the sounds of video games coming from the living room. She followed the sound of gunshots and zombies, hoping that Anne would be down there and she could watch whatever gruesome game she was playing. Cathy wasn’t a huge fan of gore but she was willing to put her bias aside to spend time with Anne.

When Cathy walked into the living room, she narrowed her eyes in confusion when she saw that it was Cleves who was playing the video game of mass murder instead of Anne. Cathy jumped slightly as Cleves let out a shout of victory before she looked over to where Cathy was standing off to the side.

“Hey, Cathy. Do you want to join me?” Cleves asked sarcastically.

Cathy gave her a horrified expression which caused Cleves to start laughing. “Absolutely not! You know I despise violent video games.”

“Did you need something from me?” Cleves asked when her laughter subsided.

“Umm… have you seen Anne? I thought she might be playing with you,” Cathy mumbled, suddenly becoming quite embarrassed to admit that she was looking for Anne.

Cleves smirked at Cathy’s sudden change in demeanor. “I think she’s in her room. But be careful. She might be attempting a séance again.”

“She’d better not be,” Cathy muttered. “Thanks, Cleves.” Cleves nodded and resumed her game as Cathy made her way back up the stairs. 

Cathy began walking down the hall when she heard voices coming from Anne’s room. Cathy hesitated at the door of Anne’s bedroom, not wanting to interrupt an important conversation, until she heard one of the voices say something that caught her interest. 

“- TOTALLY likes you back!” Cathy heard Kitty say excitedly. Of course, Cathy knew it was impolite to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help it. She pressed her ear closer to Anne’s door. Did Anne like somebody?

“Kitty, keep your voice down!” Anne whisper-yelled to her cousin. 

“Sorry! But, Anne, she totally likes you back,” Kitty whispered back. “I mean, have you seen the way she looks at you?”

“Kitty, I’ve tried literally everything to tell her how I feel except saying it directly to her face,” Anne huffed. “Either she’s completely oblivious or she just doesn’t like me like that. And, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.”

“Anne, listen to me. Even if you don’t believe that she has feelings for you, which she definitely does for the record, would you rather tell her how you feel and have a shot at an actual relationship or spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve happened with the girl you love?” Kitty ranted.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Kitty!” Anne exclaimed. “If I say something and she doesn’t feel the same, I will lose the most valuable friendship I have in my life. I… I can’t risk that!” Anne began sniffling as the sound of quiet sobs grew louder.

“Annie… come here,” Kitty whispered softly. The sound of Anne’s bed creaking suggested that Kitty was now holding her older cousin.

“Kitty, the truth is… I do want to tell her. I want to tell her that I love her smile and her laugh. That I always look forward to spending time with her. That when she says my name my heart skips a beat. That she means everything to me.” Anne took a deep breath. “But, I’m so scared. First, that she’ll reject me and our friendship will be awkward after that but also if she does like me back and I just end up disappointing her. What would I do then?”

“Anne, you’re not going to disappoint her, I promise. She adores you! She laughs at all your jokes, even if the rest of us think they’re bad. She always takes your side when Aragon gets mad at you. She even takes breaks from her reading just to spend time with you. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” Kitty answered.

“Okay… you’re right. But, I don’t know how to tell her,” Anne sighed.

“Don’t worry! I’ll help you,” Kitty piped up. 

“You promise?” Anne asked.

“I promise!” Kitty squealed. “Everything is going to be perfect!”

Cathy swallowed the lump that was building up in her throat as she felt her stomach drop to the floor. Anne liked someone. Anne liked someone and it wasn’t Cathy.       

Cathy choked back a sob as she rushed back to her room. As soon as Cathy closed the door, she felt hot tears beginning to stream down her face. She didn’t try to fight her emotions or bottle up her feelings. It was too late for that anyway. 

Cathy sat on her bed, brought her knees to her chest, and buried her face in the pillow she had grabbed in an attempt to muffle the sound of her crying. She didn’t want the other queens to hear her and worry about what had happened. More than anything, she didn’t want them to ask what was wrong. Cathy wouldn’t know what to say.

 Cathy reprimanded herself for getting her hopes up. Anne didn’t have feelings for her and she would never have feelings for her. She shook her head in disbelief that she ever had any inkling of hope that Anne would return her affection. 

No, Anne’s affection was elsewhere, with the mystery girl that she and Kitty were talking about. The one that was beautiful, charming, elegant, sweet, smart, funny, kind. Everything that Cathy wished she was. How could she ever compare?

And Anne was planning on pursuing her. Cathy’s heart ached at the thought. She would have to endure watching Anne fall in love with someone else, while Cathy inevitably fell in love with Anne in secret. She would have to watch Anne hold hands and link arms with someone else. She would have to watch Anne smile and laugh with someone else. She would have to watch Anne kiss someone else the way she desperately craved for Anne to kiss her. Cathy felt her heart twist violently at her self-inflicted thoughts of agony. 

There was one silver lining in all of the pain, however. Anne would be happy. Anne would finally have someone that she could depend on. She would have someone that she could let her guard down around and not constantly fear the pain of rejection. She wouldn’t have to mask her feelings with humor anymore. Cathy smiled for the first time since overhearing Anne’s conversation. Anne deserved to be happy and Cathy wouldn’t get in the way of that happiness.

Cathy’s heart still ached knowing that Anne was falling for someone else but she held no resentment for the mystery girl. Anne had a chance to be happy and Cathy loved her too much to risk jeopardizing that with her own feelings. 

Cathy let out a loud sigh and began wiping away the tear stains on her face. She didn’t want to go to the hall bathroom to clean herself up and risk any of the other queens seeing her like this, especially not Anne. So instead, Cathy used the sleeves of her shirt to wipe the tears from her eyes. Cathy sniffled a little as she returned her pillow back to its place.

  Almost immediately after, Cathy heard a knock at her door. Her eyes widened in panic and she had to steel herself to keep her voice from cracking. “Yes?”

“It’s Jane, love. Can I come in?” Jane spoke loud enough so that Cathy could hear her through the door.

“Just a moment,” Cathy responded and gave one last attempt to clean the tear residue from her eyes and cheeks. She got up and opened the door to meet Jane’s concerned eyes. Cathy let Jane enter her room before closing the door once more.  

“Are you alright, love?” Jane asked quietly. “It sounded like you were crying.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” Cathy lied. She flashed Jane a small smile in hopes that she would convince Jane that she was okay so she wouldn’t pry into why Cathy was crying.

Jane didn’t look convinced. “Did something happen?”

 Cathy looked down at the floor. She didn’t want to lie to Jane about what had happened but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth either.

Jane took the silence as an answer. “Cathy, do you want to talk about it?”

Cathy shook her head profusely as she felt her tears return with a vengeance. Before she could process what was going on, tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks and sobs were racking her body. Cathy tried to turn away from Jane to hide her tears but Jane didn’t let her. Instead, Jane wrapped her arms around the fragile girl and held her as she cried.

Cathy immediately sank into Jane as the older woman stroked her hair in an effort to calm her down. After a few minutes, Cathy’s sobs subsided and were replaced with whimpers and the occasional hiccup. The two queens had migrated to Cathy’s bed where Jane was slowly releasing her grip on Cathy. 

Cathy parted from Jane and looked up to meet the warmth in her eyes. Jane stroked Cathy’s back soothingly before breaking the silence. “I’m not going to ask what happened. You’re clearly not ready to talk about it.” Cathy dropped Jane’s gaze and swallowed. “But, when you are, I am more than willing to listen. Okay, love?”

Cathy nodded. “Thank you, Jane.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll go bring you some tissues. I’ll be right back.” Jane left Cathy’s room for a few moments before returning with a tissue box. Cathy accepted them gratefully and began blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

Jane stayed with Cathy for a few more minutes before excusing herself. “Cathy, I’m going to start making dinner now. Are you okay by yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay,” Cathy responded. “Thank you, Jane. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m here for you, Cathy, and I know the other queens would agree as well. We love you.”

Cathy nodded gratefully. “And I love all of you too.” Jane smiled before getting up and exiting the room. 

When Jane closed her door, Cathy muttered under her breath, “That’s kind of the problem though. I love Anne.” Cathy shook her head at those words.

Even though Cathy felt like she had no more tears left to cry, she still felt all of her emotions stirring within her once more. Cathy heaved one last sigh before walking over to her desk. She reached into the drawer and pulled out her journal. Hopefully writing would give her some peace of mind.

Cathy opened her journal and instantly regretted her decision when she saw the images of her and Anne from the photo booth staring right back at her. Cathy picked up the bookmark of heartbreak and turned it face down on her desk. She reached over and picked up her pen from its resting place before putting her thoughts to paper.

Nobody told me that Cupid was both an archer and an assassin. When I was struck by his arrow, the tip pierced my heart and my love for Anne only grew from that moment on, blossoming from admiration into infatuation. But how cruel and double minded he can be! His aim when he struck Anne was a dagger in my heart. The backstabbing fiend promised me love, omitting the word “unrequited” in premeditated deceit. How could I have been such a fool?! 

Anne, my sweet Anne, has blossomed feelings for another. Against my better judgment, I eavesdropped on her conversation with Kitty, only to overhear the earth-shattering revelation of her undying love for someone else. Oh, how I wish I could have frozen time forever in that photo booth and not only in a photograph. Then, I could live in that blissful state of mind where I was Anne’s sole affection and I didn’t have to vie for her love. I lament my foolish actions.

 Even though this pain feels like my chest was ripped open and my heart was crushed in hand, I can’t imagine my life without Anne in it. I still love her, even if the circumstances have changed out of my favor. My love for her may be selfish but it’s what sustains me. It fills me with warmth on the coldest days and brightens my life when everything before was dull and dark. It may hurt to think about the reality of this situation but I can still build a whole world of possibilities inside of my mind about her. Thoughts of her still make my heart jump and bring a smile to my face. The pain reminds me of how much I love her and that makes the pain all the more bearable. It’s a strange feeling.

I can’t give her up. I just can’t. I won’t! So, I’ll stay quiet. I’ll keep my confessions limited to the whispers in my dreams. No one will hear them and no one will know. My secrets will stay on these pages so Anne can finally find the happiness she deserves with the person she loves. I wish her all the best even though it shatters me inside to know she found everything she wants with someone else. It’s a bitter paradox because she means everything to me.

Cathy signed her name messily at the end before dropping her pen back on her desk and drew a shaky breath. Her feelings were contradicting themselves, making it hard to verbalize efficiently exactly what she was feeling. Writing it out definitely helped clear her head though. She knew she would get through pain eventually but it still hurt deeply to think about. The wounds were still fresh. 

Carefully, Cathy picked up her photo booth bookmark and turned it right side up. She smiled sadly at the memories they pictured, images of blissful hope that were shattered by the harshness of reality. Cathy placed the bookmark in her journal and shut it slowly. She slipped the leather-bound journal back in its drawer before closing it and moving back to her bed. Maybe she could get her mind off of reality by delving back into the imaginary world that Oscar Wilde painted in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

[crimsonbluemoon]

71 minicat because i have no control over my need for steamy minicat content

Okay, last drabble! Thank you all for sending them in, and for those who didn’t make the timeframe, be on the lookout for next month when I re-open my requests. Probably will be closer to mid-may as I do plan to release the new story the first week of the month. 

This story is part two to this drabble, so read that one first!

Pairing: Minicat Number: 71 Prompt: “Don’t blame it on the alcohol, you tasted like you wanted me.”

Tyler had been patient, had been a fucking saint for the past week ‘giving Mini time’ as his asshole of a friend Brain suggested. Christmas was dull without being able to see Craig, and no contact from him during the lull between holidays sucked worse than getting mono before prom. He tried to suck it up, to pretend that he was doing fine, but it was really hard when everything was pissing him off. Brock kept trying to talk about ‘feelings’, Panda ribbed him for being an oblivious idiot, and Nogla...well he was Nogla. Everything sucked and even the four shots of tequila at Lui’s New Year’s Eve party wasn’t cutting it. 

Because Mini was there, was twenty feet away from him, and they might as well have been in different countries. 

The pain that had reflected in his friend’s eyes when he’d confessed his feelings had honestly stunned Tyler. He had no idea that Mini of all people saw him like that. It wasn’t that Craig never flirted with him; it was because he flirted with everyone with a pulse. Even now, laughing and slinging his arm around Vanoss’s shoulder to kiss his cheek, Craig was charming the whole room. That was just who Mini was. How was Tyler supposed to pick up the signs that Anthony said were clear as day? Sure, Craig always asked to drive to events with him, and holding hands was kinda common between the two. But Mini was just a tactile person, and Tyler-

He just liked to see Mini smile. Like he was doing now, though it pissed him off that none of the grins were aimed toward him. Craig was acting like Tyler wasn’t even there, not looking at him and making sure there were at least ten people between them at all times. As the hours and alcohol passed, the proximity shrank a bit, and yet again Tyler had to bid his time. By the time it was close to midnight, only Delirious and Nogla were between the two. 

And Tyler knew it was time to make his move. 

“You.” Nogla was a wimp and Delirious was scared of his own shadow half the time, which made it easy to push through them and snag Mini by the arm. He felt the muscles tense under his touch, but his irritation and liquid courage were too high for him to really care. “We’re going to talk.” 

“I really need to-” Tyler didn’t listen for the excuse when he pulled them away, weaving around the crowd in Lui’s living room to get to the patio outside. The air was crisp, and he checked the thickness of Mini’s sweatshirt before he closed the door behind them and leaned on it. Craig looked uncomfortable instantly, his hands twitching by his sides before shoving quickly into his pockets. “Look, I’m too drunk for this right now.”

“You’ve had two drinks and a shot, you’re fine,” Tyler snapped out, pulling back his irritation when seeing Mini flinch in response. “I just need some answers.” 

“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Mini whispered, looking defeated in his stance.  

“Was it the truth?” Tyler watched Mini’s eyes round in shock, though a fire blazed with anger quickly took over his gaze. 

“Are you kidding me? Why would I-who makes up something like that? What am I, Nogla?” 

“Why do you always bring up Nogla?” 

“Because he normally fits well when I’m comparing stupid things! Why do you have a problem with Nogla? This is just like at the party-”

“When you claimed you liked me, but you said you’d kiss him?” Tyler asked, instantly regretting his lack of impulse control when Mini stopped talking. Too far to go back, Tyler pressed forward with his grumble. “If you liked me, you would have kissed me that night.”

“That’s what you’re stuck on? That I poured my heart out to you, made a fool of myself to you, ruined everything between us for you, but said that I’d kiss Nogla?!” Tyler’s scowl twitched at Mini’s questions, but he didn’t respond. No answer seemed to be the wrong answer, and Craig stared at him in disbelief before blowing out a puff of hot breath. “Fine!”

“Fine what-” Tyler’s shoulders hit into the firm surface he leaned against when Craig shoved them, a firm weight pressed against his chest. 

Before he could blink, Mini’s mouth was on him, kissing him hard enough to knock his head against the door. He could taste the mint of the drink Luke had made for Craig on his tongue when Craig deepened the kiss. His eyes stayed open for a moment, taking in the flush of Mini’s cheeks and the bittersweet emotion he could feel overlapping their connection. Then Tyler was closing his eyes, sliding his hands over the back of Mini’s arms and pull him closer and respond. He felt the moment Craig picked up on the change, mouth trying to pull away as if burned. But Tyler growled in warning, refusing the let the exchange end until he put his own feelings into the mix. His teeth snagged Mini’s lip between them, dragging him back into the kiss before soothing the bruised skin with his tongue. The arms he held trembled as Craig gasped, his open mouth allowing Tyler to slip in and claim it as his own. The cold from before was gone, his body boiling from the battle of their lips and the pressure of Mini’s body against his own. He was pinned between it and the door; yet he felt like the one keeping Craig captive when he finally pulled back from the kiss, feeling Mini nearly fall into him. Heavy breathing joined the music from the party inside, the two staying silent for a minute. Tyler felt Craig tense against him, trying to pull away despite the firm grip Tyler still had on the back of his arms. 

“Oh fuck.” Mini press his hand to his mouth, panic and pain rushing through his feature even as he laughed. “Wow, I really am drunk. So drunk. Very very drunk as a skunk-”

“Don’t you dare blame it on the alcohol,” Tyler growled out, making sure he made his point clear by pulling Mini back into him. He was pleased when Craig didn’t fight the touch, even as the confusion peppered his face. “You tasted like you wanted me.”  

“Of course I do, idiot. I like you, I already said I liked you.” Craig looked annoyed that he had to confess it again, but Tyler would take that over sad any day. “But that doesn’t mean I get to throw myself at you when you didn’t even say you-”

“What did I tell you at the last party?” Tyler interrupted, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer when Craig glanced away from him. “I said I don’t just go around kissing everyone. If I didn’t want to be here with you, then I wouldn’t have searched you out and dragged you out here to talk.”

“Well obviously you wanted to fix things. You thought I was mad at you.”

“Marcel’s been pissed at me for a month before and I didn’t give a shit!” Tyler replied, and both knew it was true. Tyler said what he wanted to say and rarely worried about how it made others feel unless he truly had crossed a line. Sighing and leaning his head back against the door, Tyler stared up at the cloudy sky above and continued. “But this past week’s been fucking miserable, and all I’ve wanted to do was talk to you.”

“We didn’t really do a lot of talking here, either.” Mini’s stupid joke made Tyler grin and groan at the same time, though he enjoyed the feeling of Craig’s head hesitantly leaning against his shoulder. Mini felt tired in his arms; Tyler could pick up on the fatigue without words. How much sleep did he also lose over this? How many times had his mind dragged him into negative spaces and vicious thoughts? Hating that he’d let this linger for a week, Tyler pulled his attention back down to Mini, letting go of one of his arms. Slowly, he slipped his thumb under Craig’s glasses, tracing the black markings of exhaustion laying under his eye. 

“If you hadn’t run off that night, we could have avoided all of this.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Craig admitted with a sigh, eyes not opening despite Tyler’s soft touch. “But put yourself in my shoes; if you were going to lose your best friend because you liked him, would you have been buying front row seats to that shitshow?”

“I might have tried to show him what he’d be walking away from if he didn’t get his head out of his ass and really look at me,” Tyler muttered, hating that the words were pretty close to what Brian had said to him the following day. His thumb found its way down Craig’s cheek, brushing the edge of the lips that quirked into a pained smile. 

“I don’t want to lose you, but...I don’t think I can really pretend I’m okay with seeing you with other people. Which is dumb, I know-”

“Shut up, Mini. I just got a buzz off the alcohol in your mouth from kissing you so hard; you think I’m interested in anyone else?” His palm moved to his jaw when Mini pulled his head up in confusion, making Tyler scoff. “You really must be drunk if I have to spell this shit out for you. I was pissed at the party because I had to kiss everyone but you. And I didn’t really realized that’s what I fucking wanted until you were high tailing out of the parking lot like Vin Diesel. Put it together, idiot.” 

“Wait, you like me, too? You’re not just like, really shitfaced or something?” 

“You’ve seen me drunk, am I the cuddly type?” 

“No, you’re the ‘fight frat boys when naked cause they called my friends slurs’ type.” 

“Half-naked. And see if I ever defend your shitty honor again.” He was never going to live that down, no matter how many times he swore off scorpion bowls. Craig’s smile, for the first time all night, bloomed with actual happiness at Tyler’s blush. It was as annoying as it was relieving, and Tyler didn’t pull away despite the slight pinch to his cheek. 

“I guess you’re not drunk since you’re still fully clothed. Shame.” Mini’s laugh made Tyler roll his eyes, but he didn’t pull away from the soft kiss pressed to his lips and words murmured against them afterwards. “So we’re really doing this?” 

“For some reason,” Tyler said, ignoring the skip of his heart when Mini jumped onto him. Quickly his arms grabbed under Craig’s thighs, securing him from taking them both down before he yelled. “What the fuck-”

“I’m really happy, Tyler.” Mini’s words against his ear stopped his snark, forcing Tyler to sigh and lean back against the door. He didn’t speak, letting himself stay warm in Mini’s arms. 

He was never going to tell Brian that patience paid off, but mentally, he was really happy he listened to the asshole.

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter Eight

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 3,900

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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

Collapsing into one of the comfier library chairs set between some stacks, George took a sip of the small glass of whiskey she figured she'd earned. She'd just scolded a fucking demon from hell. What was she thinking?! It had been pretty cool, but pissing off an evil, powerful being was maybe not the smartest. She could have gotten herself killed!

It had been unavoidable though; upon realizing that Demon Tim must have been the reason they suspected her of being involved in Jack's disappearance, she had been furious. Not only was it not true, it was insulting, humiliating, and just plain rude. It was also simply a bad plan. So, she took it upon herself to enlighten him and to correct his offensive insinuations. Hopefully, it wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

Her focus shifted then to Jack. Reflecting over her time there, there were things she remembered having happened on the show. The refugees in the bunker, AU Michael attacking, Jack losing his powers, Lucifer dude being just a regular human dude now; all of it was familiar, even when it terrified her (see: AU Michael attack). But, when they told her Jack was missing, she was thrown off at first. It wasn't something she remembered seeing on the show. Then again, she'd only just finished binging from season 10 to the end of 13 a couple weeks ago and hadn't started 14 yet. So, maybe she was past the point of being able to tell when things were part of their prescribed timeline or not? Therefore, even if Jack had been kidnapped on the show, she wouldn't have any info for them, right?

The problem was, the more she thought about it the more she began to believe she had seen something about this storyline. Jack being missing, the three of them going to save him-

Was it Ryan telling you about some episode where they rescued Jack in the redwoods? They had filmed it on location at some tourist spot you went to as a kid all the time and she thought you'd think it was cool… where was that?

She couldn't remember, and it frustrated her. She was also worried that she was making this all up just to be helpful.

Taking another sip, she allowed her thoughts to wander between episode scenes like an internal microfiche as she tried to nail down her recollection, No, I can definitely picture all four of them in the woods and fighting. Someone had kidnapped Jack, wanting his powers for something… was it the angels?

"Well, that was interesting," Dean stated, startling her out of her thoughts. The three of them were walking into the library a surprisingly short while after she left them with Tim.

Looking up at them, she set the glass down on a nearby shelf and stood up. Dean didn't elaborate further while he poured his own glass. The expressions each one wore were indiscernible and she grew nervous.

"Oh?" George raised a brow and looked between them, "Did he talk? Because you know, I've actually been sitting here thinking about this whole situation and something about Jack going missing is very familiar. Now, unfortunately, I am a few seasons behind, and-""

Dean took a sip, looking at her with curious amusement, and interrupted, "I was talking about you."

George looked surprised and then grimaced, "No, no. I'm not interesting, not at all. I'm the exact opposite of interesting. I'm-I'm… I'm…"

"Uninteresting?" Castiel offered helpfully as she struggled to find the words. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes in unison.

"Right! Thank you, Castiel. I'm highly uninteresting." She gulped a bit and wrung her hands as the three of them kept watching her. In the silence, she nervously looked in Castiels direction and blurted quickly, "I'm also George! Hi! Really nice to meet you! Big fan!"

"Nice to meet you," Castiel smiled awkwardly and nodded a greeting, looking at the other two with a confused expression, "...fan of what?"

"Right, positively boring," Sam interjected sarcastically before he could stop himself. He definitely thought she was interesting. First she's just a beautiful woman, then she's a beautiful woman he may or may not have had a life altering dream about ten years ago, and now she was a beautiful woman from an alternate reality where his life was a prime time television show… who he may or may not have had a life altering dream about ten years ago. 'Uninteresting' was definitely not an adjective he'd use for her.

Dean snorted, "Yea, boring is the last word I would use to describe that scene earlier. You caused Tim to sing like a canary, by the way."

Her jaw dropped in disbelief, "Say what?"

"I almost say we hire her to be our monster torture hypeman," He joked, looking at Sam with a raised eyebrow.

Sam ignored him and addressed Geroge's question, "After you left, Tim-"

"Cleetus," Dean interjected sarcastically.

"Cleetus… well, he sort of... started crying? He said he'd tell us everything we wanted to know if we promised to keep you away from him." Sam looked strangely apologetic and she let a few nervous chuckles escape, unsure whether to believe what they were saying.

"We think you hurt his feelings," Castiel explained further. "Which fortunately seemed to motivate him to talk, so thank you."

"I guess his demon mommy didn't teach him about sticks and stones," Dean cracked, taking another swig.

"Huh. OK. Neat!" George didn't know what to say; she was confused and strangely proud of herself. But she didn't want them to think she wasn't chill, so she shrugged nonchalantly, "You're welcome, I guess. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm not caught up to the current season of my timeline but I think I remember this whole Jack-gone-missing thing a little bit. I want to say you all track him down somewhere in… Oregon? Washington? I'm getting a Northwest-ish feeling." She began unconsciously pacing around the room, gesturing energetically with her hands. "I can picture a battle taking place in the woods...Jack being in danger, you all being in danger, too...some fighting...maybe someone losing the fight? Or getting really hurt," She glanced worriedly at Castiel. He'd be the only actor they'd axe of the three of them, so it stood to reason he'd be the most likely to die if she was right.

Dean and Sam shared a look before Dean asked, "Fine, I'll bite. Do you know a city? A time-frame? Who we're fighting? Anything specific?"

George paused and then slumped a bit in defeat, "No. I've only really watched up through, like, literally now. Other than random things I've heard or seen in passing, I don't know anything that's happened since ya'll got back from the apocalypse world. Been purposefully trying to avoid spoilers, too, which is a decision I now regret, obviously."

"OK, well look, sweetheart, it's OK," Dean began, in an embarrassingly condescending, douchey tone, "We don't expect you to help us. I mean, we're grateful about the assist with Cleetus, obviously but this-" Dean vaguely motioned in her direction and she raised an offended eyebrow, "-was obviously just a weird magical mess that Rowena left for us to clean up yet again. So, you just sit back and relax, and once we find Jack we'll figure out how to get you back home in a jiff, OK?" He winked and finger gunned at her, adding, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." In his way, Dean was trying to convey to her a sense of ease and comfort that they would take care of things. But, unsurprisingly, he came off incredibly dismissive and patronizing. Her cheeks flushed an angry red; she'd had it up to here with him by now.

Sam and Castiel exchanged nervous glances at the look on her face and Sam tried to stop it before the inevitable happened, "Uh, Dean, mayb-"

Cutting him off, George slowly walked toward Dean, eyes blazing, "Listen sweet cheeks." She had a polite smile on her face as she tried her hardest to muster up the same condescending, silky, sweet Dean-tone, "I'm sympathetic to the fact that you can't help but be an insufferably arrogant ass most of the time-that's just how you were written," for a split second she saw Dean's cool-guy-smug-face falter and she relished it. She could tell she landed a blow, even if it was a small one, "but maybe you could do us all a favor and try to ignore your cro-magnon dated natural urges and attempt to be open minded for once in your life? Just try to consider the fact that, like it or not, I might not be a total useless red-shirt? That maybe I-once again the lone female in the entire world according to Supernatural-might actually be useful? Hmm? Might actually have useful-albeit vague-information for you? Or would taking your lead from a woman be too threatening to you overbearing, uber-macho, 'we-get-it-you're-totally-straight' masculinity?"

Dean's head jerked back in offense, "Now, wait a minute! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," She mocked him in a deep, goofy tone, high-fiving herself internally. Nailed it! She'd always hated how damn smug his character was. Yes, fine, he was hot and charming and smart as fuck and right at least like 75% of the time, but he didn't have to be so fucking arrogant about it all the time. She preferred a man with some humility.

Sam was smirking at the look on Dean's face and muttered teasingly, "How does it feel, Cleetus?"

"Except, you actually don't." Cas interjected begrudgingly, as he thoroughly enjoyed watching Dean get verbally bitch-slapped. In fact, he could watch it all day, but they needed to focus on Jack.

"Scuse me?" She said, maintaining her sweet tone while staring daggers at Dean. "Don't what?"

"Have useful information for us," the angel said begrudgingly matter-of-fact.

"Er," Sam interjected seeing the look on her face, "Uh, well, it's just according to Tim-Cleetus-whatever, Jack is being held captive inside an old church in a small ghost town outside Butte."

Dean slapped his hands over his mouth in mock surprise and then, taking a few steps toward George, he mimed a balloon being popped by an impractically large needle. He had an impossibly large grin spread across his face.

"She still has a point, Dean," Sam sighed in an annoyed, if not slightly embarrassed, tone at his brother's display.

Cas nodded in agreement, "Yes, you were incredibly condescending and unfriendly in your attempt at being friendly earlier. Even though she's wrong about Jack, she's right about your inability to relinquish control-to anyone, though, not specifically women."

"You all suck." Dean said flatly.

George ignored him and shook her head. She was more and more sure about her information by the second; despite her doubts she could feel she was right. "Listen, I'm telling you, Jack is not in some bullshit church in Montana. He's…" She struggled to remember. "Erg, somewhere rainy and wooded!"

"Rainy and wooded, you say?" She cringed angrily at the sound of Dean's voice. "That's really great, very helpful. Say, maybe we should look up your little murder buddy-OwnsHisOwnAxe69, was it?-and ask if he's got Jack stashed in the Marin Headlands?" Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm.

George shook her head at him and closed her eyes tight in an effort to block out his negativity. Walking slowly away from him and into the map room, she started talking to herself, in a pointedly loud voice. Her focus bounced between episodes from the show and conversations with her friend, Ryan, a Supernatural Encyclopedia. She was hoping she could piece together something useful.

"OK, hang on, Jack is born, gets sucked into Apocalypse World, comes back, has his grace stolen but he's safely with you guys, he's happy, he's great-albeit, moody and not the best at video games. Then he disappears and you can't find him, yadda yadda."

While she rambled, her mind's eye began conjuring images of what she assumed were scenes from the episode she was trying to think of. While helpful, it was also disconcerting since she'd never actually seen it. She thought perhaps she'd seen clips on youtube while watching bloopers? She never could stay away from them, even if she hadn't seen the episode yet; they were just too funny. Maybe her overactive imagination was just creating scenes around what little knowledge she did have, "...and there's an epic-potentially deadly-fight scene at the end of one of the last episodes of the season. An episode that was, oh so noteworthily filmed on location iiiiinnn…" She tried to demand that her memories behave for her but it was challenging, considering she shouldn't have any memories of having watched the damn thing at all. "...where? Fuck me!" She snarled, chasing desperately after her murky visions as they swirled too abstractly for her to discern.

In a sudden moment of unusual clarity she could see the words displayed behind her eyelids. '...False Klamath? Where the fuck… why does that sound familiar? She flashed to the location in her memories and saw big wooden statues towering outside the scenic little tourist trap

Her eyes popped open with a gasp, "Johnny Appleseed!"

"Johnny Appleseed?" Dean teased, mock exasperatedly, "We're trying to find JACK."

"The Johnny Appleseed statue at The Trees of Enigma! Just outside False Klamath, Oregon!" She slammed both her hands down on the table in front of her in uncontrollably jubilant victory. "HA! Take THAT!" She jumped up excitedly and punched her fist in the air. "I did it! I remembered!"

"Sam, can you translate any of this?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"On the show," She started smugly, before Sam could say anything, "the battle that you two get into when you find Jack, takes place at a tourist spot called The Trees of Enigma. The episode was filmed on location at said tourist spot, in-say it with me now-False Klamath, Oregon. Oregon, Dean. A place that is known for being both rainy and wooded." Her finger was placed on the map table in the general area of Oregon, "that's where you'll find Jack. I'm sure of it." Her adrenaline was pumping and she was so stoked. It felt really good to be useful; like she was part of the show!

"Yea, that's great, sounds fun," Dean started dismissively, though toned down a bit, "but we're not risking Jack's life to follow your hunch."

"Excuse me. Why is my so-called hunch less believable than a demon's word? Especially a demon named Cleetus. Rude," George looked particularly offended now.

"Tim gave us real, solid intel and we've never had a problem when we've relied on our trusted resources in the past," He answered confidently. George's head jerked toward him like she hadn't heard correctly and she gave Sam and Castiel some crazy eyebrows.

"Sorry, you understand that I do watch the show, right?" She asked rhetorically, with a doubtful expression. When he rolled his eyes, she let out a frustrated huff. "Dean, think about this! He's a demon! He lies! Look, I know you have no reason in the world to trust me but you've got to; just think about it. Even IF it is demons that have Jack, don't you think it's possible that the prisoner demon you're threatening to torture might give you a false lead? Especially if he's naive enough to think he'll be able to escape and doesn't want to get in trouble with his bosses? C'mon, this is not-the-sharpest-tack-Tim we're talking about!"

Sam and Castiel had agreeably expressions but Dean's was stubbornly disagreeable, though she could tell he knew she was right. The thought of them going to Montana gave her a dreadful, suffocating feeling, like death.

So, she tried one more tactic and held her hands up in prayer, "Dean please, I don't know what and I don't know how I know, but I know in my gut that if you go to Montana, something terrible will happen. And Jack's not there, I promise you." She dropped all the bullshit and gave him her best seriously-just-listen-to-me face but Dean still wasn't budging.

"Christ, I knew you were stubborn but this is ridiculous, ugh. OK, fine!" She threw her hands up and turned on her heel, heading toward the dungeon.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam asked quickly.

"Obviously I didn't hurt his feelings badly enough the first time, so I'm going to go have another chat with Cleetus and get him to admit that he's a liar, liar, pant-"

"Er-you... can't do that," Sam cut her off apologetically.

"Sam, he's handcuffed to a chair. I appreciate the concern but-"

"He means you really can't," Dean added. George looked toward him annoyed and Dean continued, "After he gave us everything we needed we pretty much, chk," he finished, slicing a finger across his throat in demonstration. When she looked like she wanted to strangle him, he shrugged and offered, "RIP Cleetus."

George rolled her eyes in exasperation, "But he was lying! Don't you confirm the information before you cut off the source?! Oh my god, why am I even asking? You're the Winchesters, of course you don't." The three of men looked between each other guiltily and she placed her hand on her hip, "What if that was just an act and Tim saw an opportunity. Feeding you some bullshit so that you couldn't actually find Jack? Or, maybe Tim has nothing to do with Jack at all, and sending you to Montana is just a good old fashioned ambush?!" She paused for a moment and gave a surprised, appreciative nod, "Hmm, maybe I underestimated ole' Cleetus a bit. Could have been smarter than I thought."

"She does have a point, Dean. The chances that he was lying are incredibly high," Cas conceded slightly, giving Dean a questioning look. "We have no proof that his lead is any better than hers. Demon's lie."

"Damnit, alright, fine," Dean said, sighing angrily. "Sam and I will go to Oregon to look for Jack; Cas, check out Butte-carefully, strictly recon, do not engage-and call us if you find any trace of him." He shot a quick warning look at George. "We'll turn around and come right to you. Sound like a plan? Great, let's go."

"Wait, no! Don't send him to Butte! Didn't you hear me? If it's an ambush, he'll get his ass kicked!"

"Hey." Cas looked hurt and George softened her face at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry Castiel. You're a total badass when the plot calls for it, otherwise, getting beat up is just kind of your MO." Ignoring the confused look on the angel's face, She turned back to Dean, "and besides you need Castiel in Oregon, Dean. I've seen it!"

"Oh? I thought you hadn't 'seen this episode yet'?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I-I… Well, OK, I haven't, but I've seen the three of you and Jack all together for this fight. Just trust me, you need him there. What if Jack is hurt when you find him? Cas can heal him, right?" She made a questioning face to Castiel; at the moment she couldn't remember the extent of his powers on the show and he was always losing one or another for whatever reason, anyway. But if she was right, she figured that even if Dean wouldn't trust her gut, he might trust that having a healing angel on their journey would be a benefit. "Is that a power you have? I feel like I've seen you do that."

"She's right, Dean. I can heal him if we find him injured," Cas offered her helpfully and she shot him a grateful expression, actually looking him in the eyes for the first time, albeit fleetingly.

"Have you seen Jack get hurt?" Sam asked her, trying to help, too. He remained a neutral party at this point, but if he was honest with himself, he believed her. Maybe a little too much, which is why he was trying to stay impartial. If he was being blinded by his confusing memories and the undeniable-yet-currently-being-denied feelings he was developing for her and ended up wrong, Jack could be killed.

"Uh… I mean, no… not definitively, but it's pretty standard for the show. You're all constantly getting hurt during fights and when it's close to a season finale the danger factor is skyhigh for anyone who isn't you two…" After motioning to the brothers, she trailed off, afraid that this reasoning was going to hurt her more than help her.

Sam gave her a long, contemplative look before finally offering, "I can have a small team go check out Butte. Maybe Garth can join? Last time I talked to him he was near there."

Dean's teeth and fists were clenched as he took a deep, exaggerated breath, "Fine. We'll send a group to Butte and call Garth from the road-No arguments!" He held up his hand to her as she opened her mouth to speak. "The three of us are going to Oregon, just as you demand, but I'm not leaving anything to chance on some alien's hunch. Garth can handle himself."

She made an indignant face at him-she wasn't an alien, she was from an alternate reality! Get it right. But, while she was afraid of someone getting hurt in the obvious trap that had been set for them in Montana, the thought of Garth going instead didn't give her the same full-body fear shudder. So, she figured she'd take what she could get and not push the issue further. Besides, she knew Dean wasn't going to be happy about her next move and she had to pick her battles.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

so i’d really like to finish my guardian takedown lore analysis, but honestly the game isn’t really fun to play at the moment anymore (even with the health debuffs they added) so I think im going to be taking a break for now because I’m just not having fun anymore.

this game has a lotta mechanical problems i think need to be addressed so im gonna summarize it as bullet points below. I’ll play the new dlc when it drops, but idk if i’ll be on more than that (grinding, end-game stuff) until they make some serious changes. I’ve been playing (near) daily since launch, followed the patch/hotfix notes every single week, and my patience has finally, FINALLY run dry, especially with that really disappointing Phase 1 Patch and then the hotfix this week not adding anything else. What is the balancing team doing??? 😩

tl;dr: FIX THE VAULT HUNTERS!!!!

anyway. That’s all I needed to get outta my system. I might log on to this blog every now and again to post some random shit that pops into my head (probably with regards to my AU), but I’m not going to be actively playing and posting for the time being. Goodbye (for now), and here’s hoping the new DLC is good!! 

guardian takedown only problems:

there’s a lot of waiting around, and sometimes it’s not explicitly stated that you’re waiting for something, so you’ll be lost on what to do next (not sure if that’s a dialogue glitch or not)

the crystal charge insta-death is bull. just. what the hell. at least make it so you just have to start over. killing ur players for failing a “puzzle” that they then have to fight all the way back to is so infuriating.

dying because you fell off a platforming puzzle is also bull. 

i remember playing the first DMC on my playstation in middle school and having a conniption over the part in the observatory(? it’s been a hot minute since I played DMC 1) with the disappearing/invisible platforms. I h a t e jumping puzzles. why are they in a section of the game where death is semi-permanent and a detriment to your teammates. i tried the takedown 2x with friends and both times one friend didn’t make the first big jump to the temple and had to wait for our inevitable deaths. that’s so unfair to them.

there’s absolutely no reason for a boss to have 12 fuckin immunity phases. 4 per health bar with 3 health bars? Who the fuck designed this? *pumps shotgun* i just wanna talk. 

i appreciate a tasteful immunity phase every now and again (the ones in the Valkyrie fight are actually p reasonable), but christ. that is overkill. I don’t mind the main boss fight, since u can end those early through certain actions, but jesus. the mid-boss fight is annoying as hell. you spend more time running from the immunity phases and finding the damn boss than u do actually shooting it.

drop rates are crap, which I guess should be expected given what happened with the Maliwan Takedown and the handful of months it took for them to fix that, but also you think they’d have learned.

in the maliwan takedown there’s a sense of progression thru the facility after you kill each area’s batch of enemies, but in this one it’s... dampened by the crystal charging sequences. you kill all the enemies in an area, press a button, and now you have to kill 3x that number of enemies in the same area, expect you’re just standing there motionless. It’s not fun.

the crystal charging stuff is just not fun in general. standing in a square is not entertaining. it’s worse that it was clearly designed for 3+ players when a majority of people play/grind solo

i gotta admit the boss fights just aren’t as fun as the Maliwan Takedown fights overall. I felt like a real badass fighting Wotan for the first time, but the main boss for this Takedown is kind of a bitch. Wotan’s fight is chaos, there’s so much shit happening at once and you don’t really have time to process everything and I love it. This one is p meh...

This would be fine and I’d 100% not care that much if there weren’t all these OTHER problems

General Issues with the Game

There’s no endgame stuff to play outside of the takedowns. 

I assume they’re working on the first raid given some stuff I found in the Guardian Takedown files, but I really wish they’d keep the seasonal events/areas. They give us the option to disable/enable them while they’re ‘active’, just give us the ability to do it whenever we want.

when i hop on i either run through Athenas (my favorite map), or farm a boss or two. I have all the loot i really need from the maliwan takedown/elsewhere, and the guardian takedown just... isn’t fun atm, so i have nothing to do.

I’ve reset my playthru multiple times to play the main story at m10, but u can only play it (and the dlc) so many times

Mayhem levels and modifiers are a hot m e s s

a majority of the modifiers just aren’t fun to play with

they incorporated like 2-3 fun modifiers (from the community), then added a bunch that straight-up aren’t. I’m fine with the game being more difficult, but at least give us modifiers that make it more entertaining to play at a higher level instead of more annoying. I like the ones that have trade-offs or add new ‘enemies’, but I hate the ones that just straight up reduce your damage output.

a majority of the weapons with the mayhem 10 anointment (scaling) do not work on mayhem 10 (we’ll go more in-depth with this later)

Player Characters (Vault Hunters!!!) are also a hot mess and a lot of problems plaguing them haven’t been fixed SINCE LAUNCH

theyre literally the basis of the game and its balance. why havent you guys fixed them yet. stop adding new content until they’re fixed. no new skill trees until the base 3 trees work ON EVERY CHARACTER.

seriously. Why is amara p much limited to using Phasegrasp. Why does Iron Bear not matter to Moze except to proc anointments. MAKE ALL ACTION SKILLS EQUAL AND HAVE HEFT.

i wrote an essay here about it bc i feel that strongly about this

SERIOUSLY FIXING UR VAULT HUNTERS WILL MAKE BALANCING SO MUCH EASIER PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU THEY ARE THE BASE OF UR BALANCING WOES

ZANE IS STILL UNUSABLE WITHOUT THE SEEIN’ DEAD CLASS MOD!!!!!!!!!!!

MOZE IS SCREWED BC HER DAMAGE IS TOO RELIANT ON ASE ANOINTMENTS!!

AMARA DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING MELEE BUILD AS THE ADVERTISED MELEE CHARACTER???

FL4K’S HEADCOUNT SKILL IS S T I L L BROKEN EVER SINCE THE RELEASE OF THE MALIWAN TAKEDOWN

ARE YOU GUYS LISTENING TO THE COMMUNITY *PLEASEEEEEEE*

BUFF AND FIX THE GODDAMN VAULT HUNTERS

Anointments were a mistake. Damage end-game is wayyyy too reliant on them

anoints should have a maximum of, like, a 20% damage bonus. the damage necessary to kill enemies *should be coming from the VHs themselves*. i don’t care if you have to revamp every single Vault Hunter’s skill trees and buff them all by 9000%. THEY DESERVE IT AT THIS POINT

at the moment in m10 there really isn’t much build diversity *even between Vault Hunters*. We’re all using the same 5 guns (OPQ System. Kaoson. idk. fuckin brainstormer? is that still a thing? jesus fuck) with the same 3 anointments (100% on ASE, cryo while SNTL, and 300% while 90%).

you want to diversify builds like you said during the gameplay reveal???? you want our choice in Vault Hunter to actually fuckin matter???? FIX THEM!!!! THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DEAL DAMAGE WITHOUT STUPID POWERFUL LEGENDARIES AND ANOINTMENTS!!!

Anoints also shouldn’t be common. At all. They should be, like, Pearl rarity. To let that happen, their damage needs to be tuned way the fuck down (again, 20ish % bonus MAX) and ALL ANOINTS NEED TO BE USEFUL IN SOME WAY

NOBODY IS GOING TO USE THE AIRBORNE OR SLIDING ANOINTMENTS JUST REMOVE THEM ALREADY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

obviously these changes can’t happen because they fucked up and buckled down with everything being anointed in m10, but still

imagine a world where the VHs actually did damage on their own without anointments and the damage buff from them was just an incentive to grind for the 100% perfect weapon and NOT A REQUIREMENT TO DEAL DAMAGE

>:(

A majority of gear is borderline worthless at M10

I’m fine with the difficulty of M10, i should let it be known. The enemy health isn’t really the problem IF ALL GUNS ACTED THE SAME AS THE OPQ SYSTEM

ffs.

you know, if you fixed ur vault hunters so they all did damage with just purple weapons (abt the same damage as legendaries w/o special effects) and removed the anointment requirement from late-game play, balancing your guns would be sooo much easier. you know. just saying.

right now only 10% (im being generous) of guns in the game are viable. 90% are worthless. We need AT LEAST 60-70% viable at M10. WHERE IS MY BUILD DIVERSITY. WHY ARE ALL LEGENDARIES NOW JUST “HEY THIS GUN IS STRONGER THAN THE LAST 4 WE RELEASED. HAVE FUN”

how to fix this problem? do as above: BUFF YOUR PLAYER CHARACTERS. MAKE ANOINTMENTS LESS STRONG.

then, at least the 10% already strong weapons would be stupid strong and OP as fuck, BUT AT LEAST WE COULD HAVE BUILD VARIETY!!! I don’t care if other people are dummy strong one-shotting everything in sight. I don’t! so long as they don’t play with me, I couldn’t care less!!! I want to be able to play with the unique, interesting legendaries. instead of the OPQ System. which, by the way, I dislike compared to the normal Q-System. let me use the frozen heart shield and the infiltrator mod. I don’t wanna be chained to the Seein’ Dead anymore :(

honestly at this point im starting to think removing slag was a mistake bc then at least we could use guns that aren’t solely damage-based guns. you know how fucked up you’ve got me that im thinking maybe slag wouldn’t be so bad this time around??? YOU GOT ME FUCKED UP B A D.

FIX THE GAME

IM TAKING A BREAK

MAYBE I’LL BE LESS UPSET WHEN I COME BACK FOR THE DLC BUT HOT. DIGGITY. SHIT.