#once again I might be providing too many ideas all in one big pile in my Answers to Asks

[blahandwhatever]

So I thought I'd spend the last few days of November getting as much low-paying work done as I could, but my mind was so split by indecision about which tasks were most worth doing - truly, none of them were - that I barely did anything. Had a ton of microtasks available from Appen (not generative AI stuff, but the company seems to like to market itself around that because it's trendy [also, "Clients include eight of the top ten largest technology companies" but they pay like shit because whatever amount of success they have is likely based on the business model of "we can provide this service cheaper than anyone else" a.k.a. worker exploitation, which is just so depressingly prevalent]), but they were all such a combination of low-paying and tedious that the idea of filling a whole hour - much less the multiple hours required to make a sum of any significance - with god knows how many of them was simply inconceivable. I've never been able to do the microtasks on MTurk, either. Some people can do this stuff in a focused and sustained enough way that they can make some legit low-wage job earnings, but I am so overwhelmed by both the tedium and the sense of interminability that it is literal mental torture, and I'd rather make half as much per hour just doing some surveys.

Meanwhile, the low-paying real job I thought I'd be starting this week got delayed by some onboarding processes and issues, and the reviewing of an assessment for another job (also low-paying but not as badly) got delayed by Thanksgiving, but I did finally get the job, so there's that. Still keeping my eye on higher-paying jobs to apply for, but my motivation to actually work on applications is very limited. One of the big lessons I've learned from my latest miserably protracted job search experience is that I have to apply to both high-paying and low-paying jobs to some extent, like, from the beginning. For a long time, I was avoiding lower-paying jobs altogether because, like, why would I downgrade. But I had no idea how insanely long it would once again take to get a better one - and in the meantime, I still needed to make some fucking money. So I finally caved and applied for some lower-paying ones recently. And they are easier to get. And I resent them for their pay but need to take whatever I can get for now. In the end, it's not that much of a commitment if the jobs are flexible, and it adds at least passable security while I continue to look for something better.

I've also been drained of getting-stuff-done time and energy by Sleepiness again, which I've allowed myself to indulge most days, though I have to put some kind of limit on how late I get up - plus one day I had to go to Naperville to help with the dog because my father was gone and my mother was working a long shift, and yesterday I wanted to go for a walk before sunset, which I just barely managed. Each day I tend to feel a little better, and I might have like a four-hour window for which I feel legitimately motivated and energized, and then I seriously overestimate how productive a day I'm going to have, not knowing how I will crash again. My plans never ever account for the power or possibility of The Sleepiness.

I'm forever behind on chores like always, but I push myself to do At Least Something each day. Today I washed my sheets, remade my bed, and added the extra comforter layer I add for winter - which then led to sorting through the latest clothes pile disrupted by the bed-making, which then led to doing a bit of organizing in my closets because it would otherwise be impossible to place my freshly folded clothes in there without simply allowing it all to dissolve into anarchy and throwing them onto the Pile that had developed in there too. Of all chores, the Pile of Clothes is the one whose dread never exaggerates the reality. It truly takes forever to go through and organize the hundred fucking things that manage to accumulate on my bed somehow. So, I guess I can feel pretty accomplished.

[strangertheory]

How do you think people in Stranger Things would react to Will being THAT powerful??? His allies (friends, family), his enemies (Lonnie, Dr. Brenner...), other psychics (would they be jealous?) MIKE??? Would he still want to be with him? (I know he's been with Ell, but wouldn't he be too scared to be with someone THAT powerful?) And finally WILL HIMSELF?

Hello there! Thanks for Asking! ^_^

So - I believe that the context of your question is that you are assuming that my understanding of the Stranger Things universe is that Will Byers’s mind created the Upside Down and the monsters and the “Russians” and that in this sense he has “god-like” psychic powers just like @kaypeace21 explains in many of her blogposts. Correct?

Yes. I believe that Mike and Joyce and Jonathan would still want to stay with Will. I believe that his friends will ultimately choose to stay with him, too. I personally believe that El will also ultimately be an ally to him just as she always has been since season 1.

Jealousy, in my opinion, would be inappropriate and ignorant. Will’s powers are nothing to be jealous of since they stem directly from the abuse and trauma that he has been through and they are fantastical manifestations of his mind attempting to do everything it can to protect itself. But I suppose it's always possible someone would be jealous and ignorant about his powers nonetheless.

Currently Will does not have conscious control over these events. Not that we know of yet, at least. They also appear to be tied to his anxiety, his emotions, and his trauma that is buried in his mind. Of course people in Hawkins would be intimidated and afraid of Will if and when they figure out that his feelings and traumas are manifesting themselves in their world and are creating dangerous circumstances for everyone in Hawkins and the world-at-large. Of course. But it’s important to remember that he is not choosing to cause any of it, and it is not his actions but the actions of those who hurt him that are reaching out and spreading and incidentally harming the town as his mind tries to process what has happened and deal with everything and, ultimately, protect him.

However. I want to also add a tiny bit of my own speculation regarding what these supernatural and fantastical occurrences could represent within the theory that Will has dissociative identity disorder:

As you have probably noticed - I am a huge fan of @kaypeace21‘s theories and I agree with her on many, many observations and ideas about what is going on in the Stranger Things universe. But sometimes I might have slightly different ideas of my own here and there. I go back-and-forth on many of them. They tend to not be as well-organized or cohesive as @kaypeace21 ‘s interpretations, but I do have a collection of “maybes” floating around my mind most days.  I’m not committed to any of these rogue thoughts, and I change how I feel about them every single day and so I haven’t wanted to share them. But I will mention one of those thoughts in this answer to your Ask:

I continue to go back-and-forth between whether or not I see this story as one about literal monsters attacking a very real town and creatures that have emerged from Will’s mind in the flesh, or whether this entire story could be a story-within-a-story. Might there be a real-world, realistic-fiction version of everything happening that is hidden behind this curtain of fantasy? Could there be a version of Hawkins itself that is an internal world with alters and introjects and NPCs living in it? Was Will “going missing” really El fronting in a DID System for a few weeks because Will was afraid and “hiding”? Did Mike yell at Max for allowing El to show up at the Mall and say “You know she’s not allowed to be here!” because he’s worried it’s not safe for her at the mall for reasons that don’t involve the Lab or Evil Russians? Were we supposed to pick up on Will tapping out Morse Code to Hopper and saying “Close the Gate” in season 2 as being a method of communication that Hopper had taught to El for when she needed to reach him? I don’t know. I do think about these details and these possible hidden layers sometimes, though. These are just some thoughts that nag at the corners of my thoughts some days.

But whether Stranger Things is a fantastical retelling of “What Happened to Will Byers and How His Friends Helped Him Defeat the Monsters” written by author Michael Wheeler or not, I think that much of the conflict with supernatural elements in Stranger Things is still functioning on a very metaphorical level and will be resolved within the emotional and psychological aspects of the story getting resolved.

To return to the heart of your question and how his friends and family might feel about him being “so powerful” :

Yes. Will’s friends and family and all of Hawkins will probably be afraid of him at first just like (sadly) people in the real world are often afraid of those that are dealing with trauma and mental illness and those that behave “strangely” and are different compared to others that they are used to understanding. I think that their reactions will probably be analogous. We have already seen how Will (and El!) is treated as different and ostracized socially in many ways, both intentional and unintentional. Will is known to be not like other kids. (”He’s not like you, Hopper! He’s not like... most.”) Will is anxious about being treated like a baby and like he can’t handle things on his own by even his friends. Will is bullied. Everyone at school, even high schoolers that aren’t Will’s classmates, refer to him as a “freak.” Jonathan was referred to as “the freak’s brother” at one point. Can you imagine? Will is mocked so widely by the town that even high school bullies take jabs at him in casual conversation when insulting someone else: his older brother. He’s mocked. He’s bullied. He’s ignored. Will is already treated as someone different that the town is uncomfortable with and doesn’t respect. His “powers” growing or Will suddenly becoming more aware of his situation as someone that is different and called a “freak” will surely be a very hard thing for him to deal with while he is also met with increased ostracization by the people he knows and loves.

Hopefully those that love Will are going to ultimately realize that his “powers” and his condition are not a threat to their safety, and that the true danger and evil stems from the person (or people) who have hurt Will and who need to be brought to justice. Helping Will heal from everything that he has been through will surely be the key to banishing the monsters from Hawkins and allowing Will himself to realize that he doesn’t have to see his life as ruined by his condition or his “powers” and that he can truly have a happy, fulfilling life with those he loves. On that note: I highly recommend @kaypeace21‘s response to this blogpost (click here to read the thread) in which she discusses how important it is that storytellers create narratives in which survivors find happiness and love in spite of everything that they have been through because too often the lie and the damaging trope that mental illness inevitably condemns people to misery and death shows up again and again in pop culture. It’s important that we reject the lie told to us by society that the mentally ill are incapable of having happy lives.

(Thank you for Asking!)

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 23: Overstimulation (The Euphoria Bot)

Day 23: Overstimulation Title: The Euphoria Bot Pairing: Hastume x Reader x Robot Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, overstimulation, robot sex, face sitting, sexual punishment, forced orgasms, yandere Note: Hngg, one more day down. I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I really had fun with this idea, so I hope everyone enjoys! Also thank you to @pleasantanathema for reading through this and coming up with Euphoria Bot when my brain was crashing over robot names!

Edit: My 3AM delirium brain also forgot to credit @hisoknen​ who I talked over the robot idea with, and she is the one who mentioned Mei and one of her inventions would be a good fit. I’m sorry Raph, ILY.

Kinktober Masterlist

You really shouldn’t do what you’re about to do. You know this, and yet you’re still so curious. Your girlfriend Mei never leaves you alone in her lab, and it would look terrible if you betrayed her trust the very first time she does by poking at one of her precious babies.

But you can’t seem to stop yourself from walking towards the fancy looking robot in the corner. It’s the same size and shape as a large human, maybe about 6’5.” There are strange little pads on each finger with grooves and ridges, and a few compartments along the body of the robot that seem like they should open up. There are so many dials and display screens that you can’t even begin to tell what each one does. 

Except for the big red “on” button. 

This is a terrible idea, you try to convince yourself. You shouldn’t press the button on a machine that Mei made without knowing what it does. Especially one that is apparently in the defective pile and no way of knowing why it’s there. 

You press the button. 

The robot comes online with a few whirring and beeping noises. You wait a few seconds, almost expecting it to randomly explode like some of Mei’s other inventions. Instead, it stands at attention and greets you.

“Hello, I am Euphoria Bot. How may I serve you today?” The robot greets you in a professional tone.

You’re completely taken aback, simply standing there with your mouth hung open, unable to think of a single thing to say.

“I am here to serve you.” The robot repeats, still standing at attention as if waiting on something.

“Serve how?” You’re finally able to respond, a bit of the shock having faded.

“I exist to provide pleasure to mortals. Verbally consent and I will demonstrate.”

“I consent,” the words fall from your lips without any thought, sheer curiosity overtaking you. But you are certainly not expecting the robot to scoop you up in its metallic arms and push you down on the floor.

“Wait - what do you think you’re doing?” 

“I will provide you with pleasure,” the robot says as it begins to work at your clothes. Fear crawls up your spine at the strength the robot must have when it rips even your jeans into two pieces.

“Wait, I didn’t know this was what I was - ahh, stop that!” Your sentence ends in a choked gasp when a ridged finger comes to rest on your clit. There is a clicking noise, and then the fingertip turns on, vibrating against you and sending waves of pleasure into your core. The cold of the metal contrasting with the heat of your skin has you shivering.

You find yourself coming undone embarrassingly fast, stomach tightening as the robot presses the ridges down along your clit as it continues to vibrate. “Shit, too sensitive, stop!” You try to pull away, but the robot only holds you down and increases the vibrations. “God, stop it’s too much,” you whine as you try to squirm away, but the robot’s grip is ironclad.

“I will provide you with pleasure,” the robot repeats, and a sliver of fear crawls up your spine as you begin to suspect why this robot is defective. The vibrations increase even further, and you whine from deep in your throat as you see stars behind your eyes. A strange feeling is coming over you, making you feel like you have to pee. 

One firm rub of the notches on the robot’s finger has you squealing out your orgasm, clear liquid gushing out of you and onto the robot’s legs and ground. “Fuck, oh god,” you pant as you quiver in its’ arms. “Okay, okay, that’s good, you’ve provided pleasure, turn it off, please - “

“Will you not allow me to provide you any more pleasure?”

“No, no more pleasure, I withdraw my consent.” Maybe if you state it officially, the robot will finally listen.

“I understand.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as the robot releases you, standing up and moving back to where it was when you turned it on. But that relief quickly turns into horror when you see what it comes back with.

Handcuffs and a spreader bar. 

You jump up on wobbly legs as you try to get away, but the robot is too fast, grabbing you with one arm and forcing you back down on the ground. “My directive is to provide pleasure,” the robot repeats, and the phrase makes you want to scream in frustration. “If you no longer consent, then I may override you to complete my directive.”

And with that, your hands are handcuffed behind your back, legs forced open as the spreader bar is placed in between so that you can’t close them, leaving your dripping pussy exposed for the robot to do whatever it wants with.

Two cold metal fingers rest against your throbbing clit as the vibrations start again, and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the blinding pleasure. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you babble as you feel another finger prodding at your entrance, gathering up your juices before it pushes inside of you.

The robot’s finger is thick, but you’re so wet that it’s not uncomfortable as it slides in. Until you feel another finger pressing against the first one. Your walls are forced to stretch open until they graze your cervix, the sting causing you to wince.

And then the vibrations start from within you, and you can’t think about the pain anymore. The robot rubs your clit in tight circles, the rough texture at the tips only increasing your pleasure. You’re already right at the edge of another orgasm, and when the robot curls its fingers up against your g-spot, you’re gone, pussy clamping down as more liquid squirts out of you.

The robot removes its fingers from your pulsing pussy, and you begin to hope that maybe this is finally over. That is, until it presses a button on the front and you watch a compartment open. A massive cock emerges, with more of those ridges along its length. It’s so thick, thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before.

“That won’t fit inside of me, it won’t, please stop - “ You beg and plead, but you know your begging is fruitless when the robot repeats that same damnable phrase that has you internally screaming.

“I will provide you with more pleasure.”

It lines itself up with your pussy and begins to push inside. Your legs are trembling, sweat beading along your forehead as you try to close your legs, but the spreader bar prevents you from doing anything to keep the robot from going in deeper. You’re dripping from your previous orgasms, but the fit is still so tight as the unyielding metal forces the tight ring of muscles at your entrance to stretch.

“Fuck no, god fuck, stop, it hurts,” you whimper and plead, but the robot continues to slip inch by inch into you until finally it bottoms out. The robot ignores your begging, giving you only a second to adjust before it begins to thrust. The force of it has you being pushed back, only held in place by a firm grasp. Your breasts bounce with every movement, something that is apparently noticed as fingers come up to work your nipples into hardness. 

You already feel the waves of pleasure rising up, your pussy clamping down on the hard metal buried deep inside of you. The robot must sense it too, because suddenly you feel vibration shoot through the robot’s cock, pressing against that sensitive spot inside of you and wringing another orgasm from your tired body. 

“No, god, fuck I can’t cum again, please,” your begging falls on defective ears as the robot grips your hips with one hand and begins to pound into you as another finger comes to rest on your clit. Your vision blurs and turns black around the edges as you cum again, the pleasure borderline painful at this point. More liquid gushes out from your aching pussy and coats the ground beneath you. Even the robot’s metal frame is covered in your juices.

“No more pleasure, please stop!”

“I have not fulfilled my directive,” the robot repeats as all of the vibration increases at once. You scream through your orgasm, finally descending into complete darkness as you pass out. 

You don’t know how long you’re out, only that when your eyes flutter open, the nightmare still hasn’t ended. It’s still on top of you, thrusting away inside of your sore, aching pussy. You almost wonder how it still has the stamina before horror dawns on you. It’s a robot, and robots don’t need rest. 

But before you can panic over how long this might continue, you notice something different as your eyes are drawn to the side.

Your girlfriend Mei is sitting in a chair beside you, watching you get utterly ravaged by her baby. But instead of looking concerned or worried, she looks positively thrilled.

“Mei, please help me,” you whisper weakly, eyes shutting as you twitch through another orgasm. “I can’t make it stop.”

“Snooping through my workshop and touching my babies without me? How could you?” The redhead’s voice isn’t angry though, taking on the usual cheerful tone. “I can’t be mad though. I’ve never gotten to test it out like this!”

Test it out? Your brain is sluggish as you try to work through her meaning. “Test it? You have to help me - shit, nooo,” your voice takes on a panicked tone as your stomach tightens again, a sure sign of another impending orgasm.

“You’re going to help me first!” She giggles a bit as she stands up, pulling her pants and panties off as she tosses them to the side. “You take care of me, and I’ll help you out! How does that sound?” She straddles you, facing the robot as she lowers herself down, taking two fingers and spreading herself open as she rubs her pussy along your face. “You know what to do!”

You desperately want to refuse but you know how Mei can be when she’s testing her precious babies. Your best shot at ending this is to do as she says, so your tongue pokes out from your mouth as you lick along her slit. She sits further down, reaching behind her to grip your hair and force you harder against her pussy. You begin to lick and suck along her folds, brushing by her clit but not applying any pressure. 

You’re rewarded with a frustrated whine from Mei when you continue to not give her the stimulation you need, and despite the situation, you smile at how needy she is. You finally work her clit into your mouth as you gently suck on the swollen bead.

You let out a loud moan of both pain and pleasure against her heated skin as the robot thrusting inside of you pushes against your g-spot, sending waves of another orgasm through your body. Your vision blurs again, but you shake it off as you begin to devour Mei’s pussy like a starving woman.

You suck hard on her throbbing clit, and are rewarded with a loud moan as she begins to ride your face. “Yes, yes, yes, just like that,” she chants as she grinds down, cutting off some of your breathing. You feel her juices dripping down onto your face as she cums with one final suck of her clit.

She lifts herself up, allowing you to take deep gasping breaths of oxygen. “You did so well,” she says, voice slightly breathless as she comes down from her orgasm.

“Now please make it stop” you whisper weakly, body convulsing as you’re forced through yet another orgasm. You don’t even know how you’re still able to with your pussy so sore and your clit practically numb from the extreme vibrations still running through your body. 

“I don’t know, do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?” Mei giggles a bit as your eyes widen in horror, head shaking side by side frantically until you’re forced to stop when dizziness overtakes you.

“I’ve learned my lesson, please! Please, oh god please make it stop,” you plead with her desperately, panting as your eyes roll back into your head as you squirm from yet another orgasm. “I’m sorry Mei, please!”

“Oh alright,” Mei lets out a soft huff of breath as she stands up. She reaches around to the back of the robot towards a button that you couldn’t have reached even if you wanted to. You breathe a sigh of relief at this nightmare finally being over which quickly turns to concern when you see how long Mei is taking.

“Actually, I just realized something,” she stops just inches away from what must be the off button and grins at you before pressing several other buttons. “I don’t think we should stop yet!”

You see another compartment open up right under the first one, and a cock the exact size of the one still pumping inside of you emerges. Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the second cock line up with your ass.

Mei giggles at your expression, clapping her hands together and practically bouncing in place. “After all, this is valuable testing of my precious baby’s new features!”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @dee-madwriter​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, @f4nficbaby​​, @tenkoshimmy​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​,  @thirstyforthem2dmen​​, @blissfulignorance2000​, @bluecookies02-main​, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

[lihikainanea]

Did tiger and bill ever go through like a phase where tiger kind of had to get used to bill thinking of her? Like she wasn't really used to being someone's first choice, like someone thinking about what she might like or want. To have someone frankly just think of you. I'm sorry to be a bother. Just feeling kind of bad lately, and could use some sweet bill. Sorry again.

First of all boo, please don't ever be sorry for sliding into my DMs. I love hearing from you guys, especially if you're not doing that well. I'm all ears, and this blog is a safe space for everyone--so pull up a chair and stay awhile. I, and our two favourite idiots, would be nothing if it weren't for all the amazing asks that you guys send to me <3

Secondly, I love this train of thought because I think it is very, very true. And it probably started back at the beginning of their friendship, right? Yes, it did. Follow me down this rabbit hole.

Bill doesn't make a lot of new friends because since the whole fame thing, he has trouble trusting people--and Bill, by nature, is a caretaker. He's extremely nurturing. He provides. He takes care of those close to him, in one way or another. But he knows his own empathic side, he knows its limits and boundaries, and one of the worst things he can do for his own well being is care about too many people. Get involved with too many people. Bill is happiest amongst his close group of friends, people he knows he can trust, people he can cook dinner for and host movie nights for and fly halfway around the world when he has a premiere.

And tiger, for her part--my girl tiger, she has zero self-preservation skills. Like, none. And Bill is fascinated by that. He's fascinated by this little fireball who not only has no idea who he is, but who subsequently really couldn't give a shit once she found out. He's enamoured with this little scrappy ball of ire who is convinced not only that she can start a bar fight with everyone in the pub, but that she can legitimately win. Bill's never seen anything like it. And once you meet tiger, she's impossible not to love. Or at least, it's impossible not to be intrigued by her, and to want to know more.

But the thing is, that firecracker personality and the massive chip on her shoulder doesn't come from nowhere--tiger's been hurt a lot. And it's because she never goes for the good guys. For as much as Bill has an empath side, tiger has the self-destructive kind where she wants to fix people. And she always goes for the dudes who will take and take and take, the dudes who play rope a dope with her heart, and who leave her shattered. Tiger gives her soul away too easily, and she takes it as a challenge when she's tossed to the side by some guy who was never worth her time anyway. She tries to prove she's worthy.

But then in comes Bill--this big, wall-eyed, kind of freaky looking dude who seems nice and kind and is moderately soft spoken. And when they hang out, Bill starts showing a genuine interest--platonically, of course--but it's genuine. He asks what she does for a living. He asks if she likes it. He wants to know where she went to school, what she studied. Does she have any siblings? Because he has a lot, and he knows how tough big families can make you. When tiger can't decide if she wants the chilli fries or the chicken wings one night at a pub, Bill tells her to get both--and that's when she knew they'd be friends.

And it slowly but surely escalated from there--still all platonic at the beginning--but suddenly, Bill was asking her how she was getting home, if she needed a ride. He was asking her how her week was, when everyone got together on Friday--and if she had mentioned something big previously, a meeting or a presentation or something--he'd remember, and ask her how it went. If he left the bar early, he'd politely ask her if she could text him when she got home.

"Why?" she scoffed.

"Because somebody needs to look out for you," he answered honestly. Tiger, in true fashion, balked awkwardly.

And this is where her defence mechanism started to fly up. Because when you're not used to being cared for, when you're not used to genuinely mattering to someone or hell even just getting the attention of a truly good person--it's weird. It's awkward. It's scary as hell and requires a level of vulnerability that tiger isn't ready to let exist--because it would mean that she would have to admit to herself that she is worthy. That this is the norm, and that she deserves this. That she knowingly let herself settle for being treated like shit for so many years.

And tiger's first defence is always anger. So maybe she started getting real snippy with him, probably well into their friendship by this point--so Bill was cooking for her, and if he wasn’t then he was checking in to make sure she ate at least one vegetable that day. If she had a date, he would wait until she texted him that she was in for the night--whether that was at the guy’s place or hers. If she needed a ride home in the morning then he would pick her up, in all of her walk of shame glory--but he’d pick her up with a few Advil, some big sunglasses, a huge coffee. And he would absolutely make fun of her nefarious, ill-fated decisions but he’d always wait at least 12 hours before he dared.

But to go even further--you are absolutely right. Bill does put her first. Once she is solidified as his best friend, then there’s no going back--she comes first. And part of it is Bill really is legitimately concerned because tiger has no self preservation skills and he worries that if HE doesn’t concern himself over her, then tiger will just like...her reckless decisions will be her undoing. He must look after Little Human, because Little Human’s self-destructive streak is far too prevalent. He has left dates in the dust when she needed his help. He looks out for her in group settings, and intervenes if some idiot is getting too handsy with her. If he has a boys night that night but tiger calls crying because some idiot broke her heart, or crying because it’s shark week and she’s out of gummy bears--then Bill is there. In a heartbeat, he’s there. She comes first.

And I’ll bet it’s all very nice, but it also kind of has tiger seething. Because she’s not used to this kind of...care. The genuineness of it. And tiger can’t be vulnerable enough to admit that part of her likes it, part of her feels safe knowing that even in the wee hours of the morning, Bill is awake and waiting for her to let him know she got in safely. Part of her kind of likes this idea that someone is thinking of her, that someone prioritizes her. But it’s still tiger, so she also gets hella mad. And she seethes--for a long time, she seethes. Quietly. And then maybe it all just comes to a head one night when she goes over to Bill’s place after work and he has a crisp glass of white wine waiting for her, a change of clothes, even her favourite make up remover--the kind that doesn’t sting, because she has sensitive skin. And all of that pisses her off, but then she walks into the kitchen as he’s deftly cleaning and slicing mushrooms.

“How did it go?” he asks casually. Tiger plays dumb.

“How did what go?” she swigs her wine.

“The meeting with your boss today.”

“...Fine,” she mumbles, petulantly. Of course he’d remember that, even though she told him two weeks ago. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offers kindly. Tiger sees an errant pile of green onions on his chopping board, and she eyes them wearily but somewhat triumphantly. Bill heads to the fridge, pulls out a bowl of salad, then he tosses the green onions in. Perfect, she thinks, and it gives her a weird sense of satisfaction. Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Considerate, doesn’t even remember what she considers to be the most significant thing about her. That she hates green onions. She feels triumphant, renewed. Somewhat weirdly comforted to confirm that perhaps she doesn’t mean that much to him.

Until he heads back to the fridge, and pulls out another bowl of salad--one that he promptly dresses, salts and peppers, and tosses. One without green onions. One for her.

“Why do you do that?!” she explodes. Bill jumps in surprise.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, “This one has no green onions!”

“Exactly,” she continues, “Ugh, Bill. Just...why do you always...ugh, Bill!”

Bill is stunned, still holding his bowl of salad, trying to figure out what exactly is happening here.

“It’s too much,” tiger says, slamming her wine down, “All of it is too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“You! This. Why do you always just....think of everything?” she says, and she’s steadfastly working herself into a tizzy.

“Tiger...”

“How? How do you remember these things? How do you fucking remember that I had a meeting with my boss today, a meeting that I told you about two weeks ago? Why do you make a whole other bowl of salad for me, why do you remember that I hate green onions?”

“Because I care about you kid,” he shrugs.

Tiger is angry, but she’s also at a loss for words. Bill’s genuineness, his honesty, will do that. For as much as she struggles to be vulnerable. Bill shows that side of himself openly. She doesn’t even know why she’s so angry. Bill watches her for a minute, but she’s kind of just bug-eyed so he goes back to his cutting board and starts calmly chopping his little mushrooms again.

“I don’t like it,” she mutters after a long pause.

“Too bad,” he shrugs non-chalantly. Tiger glares at him.

“Too bad?” she seethes.

“Too bad,” he repeats.

“Stop it,” she says.

“No.”

“Bill, I mean it. Stop always trying to--”

“No.”

“I’m not finished,” she stamps her foot, “Stop being such--”

“No.” he says again, “Tiger, this is what I do.This is how I am. I care about the people that matter to me.”

“Well I don’t ma--”

“Yes you do. You matter to me. So I suggest you put on your big girl panties, and fucking deal with it,” he says. And that’s final. Tiger is taken aback at his tone, at the way his face suddenly got serious--but then in a heartbeat, it’s relaxed again.

“Now, do you want mustard on your burger, or ketchup?” he asks. Tiger is petulantly silent, glaring at him.

“Tiger.” he warns, holding up the hamburger bun.

“Shouldn’t you already know?” she huffs in annoyance, going to the fridge and grabbing the wine. She swigs it right from the bottle as she boosts herself up on the kitchen counter. Bill goes to the fridge and grabs the mayo--her favourite--putting a thick schmear on the bun.

“God, get fucked asshole,” she mutters. Bill just grabs her face, plants a noisy kiss on her cheek as she shrieks and swats him.

[sketching-shark]

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure. 

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work. 

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst. 

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels. 

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).   

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity. 

----

 As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

invisible string

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: sequel to willow. wanda is a tarot reader and you cannot tell me otherwise. it is canon. 

WILLOW - TOLERATE IT

Time, curious time gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

James was taken aback by her move, watching his black king cornered by both her white queen and king. How had he not seen it? It was right there ever since she moved her queen to lay in F7 right at the beginning of the game. How? It didn’t matter but her naughty smile, pushing at the corner of her chapstick painted lips left no doubt to who had won this game. He bit his lip leaning against the couch, full view of the glass chess board. She had less pieces left than him but she had still managed to won and as such he extended his hand towards her. She looked at his hand hesitantly, her winning grin fading and her usual insecurity returned as a shake hand came to shake his. 

     - No one has won a game against me in years. - he grabbed the glass black king from the board, handing it to her. - How’d you do it?

     - You wanted my king. You wanted it so badly you forgot about your own, so I distracted you with minor pieces. Gave you the false sense of security you had it and then struck down.

   - That’s such a dirty trick, petal. - he leaned against the velvet fabric of the armchair, eyeing her up and down. She felt naked under his gaze, almost as if he could see through her walls and clothing. She guessed a man like him needed to have such a sharp eye but it wasn’t any less intimidating, even if she had just won a chess match against him.

He rose slowly from the armchair, his feet moving slowly towards a silver cart leaning against a wall, just under an abstract painting with several glass bottles of several coloured liquids. He took the glass stone from one of them, pouring some of the dark amber liquid onto two glasses before offering one to Y/N.

  - Glenlivet. - he spoke out, noticing the confusion on her face. - You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?

  - How old do you think I am Mr. Barnes? I thought you knew everything about your employees.

  - And I do, petal. I know where you went to school, kindergarten even, know the name of your friends and that’s all from one of my men following you for a day. - Bucky rose his glass in a small toast before starting to drink. Y/N’s colour drained from her face as she started to wonder if she’d gone to see his father in the precinct. She hadn’t. At least she thought yet her body started shaking and it became harder to breathe. - Y/N? Hey, are you okay?

  - Yeah ... I just need some fresh air. - she tried to get up from the couch but she couldn’t, her nerves getting over her. What if he’d heard her speak about the undercover job, she was dead, she was definitely flirting with death the moment she stepped into his home. 

   - Someone was following you from the bar, petal. I’m not going to kill you, if I were to kill you it wouldn’t be in the comfort of my own home. Blood is a bitch to take out of white carpets. - Bucky once again seemed to read through her. He once again got up from his couch, placing his gun on the marbled island of his kitchen before returning to her. - You’re paranoid, petal.

   - It’s not ... I don’t really like being followed. Why were you following me? 

   - That guy from the bar followed you home and since he got his head smashed against the counter and a drink thrown in his face, I thought better to send Steve after you for that night. You are awfully clumsy and if you had any real enemies, you’d be dead by now. You leave your key under the entry matt and so does your housemate and her lousy brother too. Twins?

   - Yes.

   - You’re so afraid of me but in all honesty petal, you’re the biggest danger to yourself. 

   - Has Steve followed me recently?

   - No. I’ve been driving you home ever since, park a bit outside campus to ensure you get in. It’s an ugly world out there, petal.

   - I know. Trust me, I do ...

After her mother died, the home she had once learned to love lost its homey feeling. Suddenly, the home that always smelled like fresh lemon tarts and gardenias was now dark. His father left his case files all over the kitchen and would sit at the table smoking his cigars with a glass of port as he read through the cases. Her father loved her, he did, just in his own way. 

She still remembered peaking by the door, holding onto a blanket her mother had quilted for her with her name embroidered in aqua blue, and seeing the photos scattered around the table of murders, abusers, robberies. She knew there was darkness, she just preferred to ignore it.

   - You live inside your head very often don’t you? - he eyed her as she took a sip of the drink he had offered her. Scotch was never her drink of choice, she preferred not to drink at all seeing how it had soured her father. Yet, she guessed a centenary drink was no joke.

   - That’s called being an only child, Mr. Barnes. Besides, my ideas are rarely worth listening.

   - Hm, I see ... Perhaps you’d like to see your room? - he changed the conversation, offering a hand to her so she could get up. 

Her soft fingers wrapped around his cold hand, a stark contrast to her warm hand. Bucky finger lingered over the top of her palm, feeling the softness and plumpness of her skin compared to his scarred, rough one. She didn’t mind, she followed him happily through the halls of his way too big house. 

Steve had told him when he bought it that it was too big for himself alone but for Bucky buying a big flat meant he made it, he could now tell everyone else who doubted him to fuck off yet it was hard to come back to it at the end of the day. Always clean and always empty. The staff didn’t stay behind for much longer, having heard all sorts of rumours and he believed if Y/N wasn’t so afraid of him, she would’ve probably left. Yet, he couldn’t find himself to sell the flat so he just slept in hotel rooms. Smaller roomers where it didn’t feel like the emptiness surrounded him constantly. 

He led her to one of the guest rooms he had decorated in soft pinks, whites and greys. Bucky guessed it’d make her comfortable, it matched her cardigans and little embroidered dresses she would bring around to the bar despite most of his waitresses constantly berating her on it, saying it would get her no tips. 

Y/N peaked through the door crack as he opened it. The room was rather soft with a large king sized bed with white and blush pink bedding along with a grey rug nearby. With so many bedrooms, he probably had enough time to decorate each one with a different colour palette. 

    - There should be some pyjamas in the wardrobe. Might be a bit big but it’s better than sleeping with your clothes on. 

   - You seem prepared. Is this where you bring your mistresses?

   - My mistresses don’t sleep in my house. - why would you say that, Y/N? Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I’ll drive you home tomorrow at 8AM so you should go to sleep. Goodnight, petal.

  - Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Barnes. - he closed the door behind her and she was left with herself in the bedroom.

She padded around the linoleum floors, phone in hand as she photographed the horizon so maybe her father could locate the house and search for evidence. Y/N couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself to go investigating his house as he was kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Instead she just investigated the room which was so much better. It was a suite with its own bathroom decorated with monogramed fluffy white towels and white marbled surfaces. She wondered why he wouldn’t bring someone here, it was clearly a work of architectural art but yet again, maybe don’t show strangers where you sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown it to her. 

At least she was doing something right. At least he didn’t hate her enough not to allow her to listen to his conversations, to the talks of deals that would surely provide her father’s precinct with the clues that they were not insane to think that there were tradings happening under their noses. She was doing good but she felt dirty nonetheless. She didn’t like lying but she also wanted to graduate, to be something other than the Capitan’s daughter.

She ignored her mind and got dressed in the steamed and washed pyjamas that were hanging on the silk hanger of the closet and got inside the bed. She was okay, she was going to be okay. 

The daylight ruptured through the night and she was the first one up to get dressed and make the bed as well as put the pyjamas back on their place. Bucky didn’t take long to knock on her door and as she opened it there he was again, polished suit and hair as if looking casual destroyed the whole appearance. It didn’t, he was a handsome man and she was absolutely certain he would look handsome in anything. 

    - Did you sleep well? - he questioned as she stepped out the room, holding onto her worn out faux leather brown satchel. 

   - Yes, it’s a very comfortable bed. What about you? 

   - I don’t have time to sleep, petal. I was thinking about having some breakfast before I dropped you off, if that’s okay with you.

   - I just want to get back home. My flatmate might worry. 

Bucky didn’t force her. She was like any other staff and he guessed having breakfast with the mob boss wasn’t her idea of a good spent morning, besides, she probably still needed to go to class. He drove her back to her small, unsafe which she saw as safe flat, keeping an eye on her every once in a while. Her posture was rigid or even one that a manner teacher wouldn’t correct, it was slouched over his window, hand under her chin as she observed the early morning light illuminate the city. 

Getting to campus during early mornings were always funny to her as she never knew what she would find; some students would be still returning from nights out while some would exit the library with piles and piles of books and notes. Either way, it was always a fun game. He stopped in front of her flat, putting the car on stop, engine slowly lowering its sounds. 

   - Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Barnes. - she held her satchel against her chest. 

   - You got an evening dress? Cocktail party maybe? 

   - So not a black dress? - she teased, biting the skin of inner lip. 

   - Definitely not. 

   - I think I might have something.

   - You’re not working tonight, you’re coming with me to an auction. I’ll pay you double the salary of a nightshift if you say yes.

   - Plus night wages?

   - Everything you’d get paid a night, I’ll double it. 

   - I’ll get to work finding that dress then. - she opened the door of his car, exiting before waving him goodbye.

Getting inside her flat, she could definitely sense the difference between worlds she was living in. Spend time with James Barnes, her father told her. Besides, how bad could an action be? There were several people there and if she knew what he was buying maybe it would prove useful in the future.

She climbed the stairs up to her door which was slightly open. She would’ve questioned why had it not been for Pietro’s voice echoing through the whole hall. Of course. None of them really close the door whenever the other one is around. 

    - Wanda, I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. - he told his sister who merely rolled her eyes at him. - Shuffle it again.

    - It says you’re a fuckboy deal with it. - she crossed her arms, before noticing Y/N had come in. - Hey you, you’re here early. I thought you were gonna appreciate your motel stay for a little while. 

   - Well, I ... I was just homesick. - she lied. Wanda clearly wouldn’t like to know where she had spent the night. - What are you guys doing?

   - Pietro asked me to do a reading on him and he’s upset at the result. As per usual.

   - I’m telling you the deck is broken. Do Y/N. - he pointed at the captain’s daughter who sat down by the coffee table where the two were. Wanda shrugged and asked Y/N to touch the deck before she started to shuffle it, three cards falling onto the table as soon as she did.

The Lovers, the Devil and Death. Y/N knew those cards all too well, she loved roaming through Wanda’s deck and marvel at the beautiful pictures and Wanda normally told her that the Death card was not as bad as everyone made it look like as well as the Devil. However, this time, all the colour drained from the brunette’s face as the stared at the cards fallen on the table. She shuffled the deck again, hoping for more cards, this time getting the Six and Nine of Swords. 

   - Everything okay, Wan? - she asked her friend who was intensely staring at the cards in front of her. 

   - Yeah ... I guess Pietro is right, the deck is broken.

   - See? I told you so. You never listen to me. 

   - I think I should be getting to class now. - she interrupted the two sibling’s bickering. - I’ll see you later. 

She spent most of her classes thinking about the auction. It was harmless enough and her father was over the moon, telling her she should be proud that she was now part of the “inner circle”, whatever that meant. Nevertheless, she was getting paid double which would always help with rent and utilities. The last module took hours of a lecturer going through yet another generic powerpoint followed by a class of over a hundred students rushing out the door the moment it was over. 

She took to her bedroom before Wanda arrived to search for the only evening dress she had which barely saw the light of day, mostly living inside the black box over her wardrobe. It was her mother’s, something she had left behind that Y/N had taken a particular liking to once she grew up. It was a baby pink slip dress with the hem in matching lace and she guessed it would be appropriate for an auction. 

   - Where are you going? - Wanda asked as Y/N stepped out of the room. Shit. Of all the days for her to be home early, it just had to be today. - What are you doing wearing your mum’s dress?

   - It’s fancy dress day at the bar. 

   - Fancy dress day at a mob bar?

   - Clearly. 

   - What are you hid ... - Wanda was interrupted by Y/N’s phone. Mr. Barnes had texted her he was outside just at the right time. 

   - I’ll see you later, Wan. Have fun but not too much fun.

Before the brunette could question her, Y/N was already out the door, bag in hand. She went down the stairs and outside where Mr. Barnes was leaning against his car, dressed in a navy blue suit which made him look like a model gracing the cover’s of fashion magazines. 

    - You’re supposed to make me wait, petal. 

    - I like being on time. - she walked up to him, standing less than an arm’s distance from the posh dressed mob boss. 

    - I should start by warning you not to go by your real name today. Safety purposes. 

   - What should I call myself then? Your date? - she asked as he helped her inside the car. 

   - You can call yourself whatever you’d like, petal. As long as it’s not your real name and I know what name you’re going by. 

   - Uhm ... I wanna go by Betty. 

   - Betty?

   - Like Betty Draper from Mad Men. She sounds like the type of woman who would go to an auction.

  - So you wanna be Betty Drapper? - Bucky hide a small smile as he drove through the dark night. 

  - No, I wanna be called Betty for tonight. - she leaned against the comfortable seatings of his car. 

“You’re part of the inner circle now, darling. Do something about it”, her father’s words echoed in her mind through the faint sound of the radio playing Doris Day. Yet again she had no idea how going to an auction would be a break in the case unless Mr. Barnes was buying weapons or drugs. The fact she was going by a different name didn’t calm her nerves but he wouldn’t kill her in a public setting. She watched the trees pass by from the window of his car  until they reached a big white house which could be certainly considered a mansion.

Mr. Barnes got off his car while the engine was still roaring, handing the key to the valet before opening her door. She looked up at him, blinded by the fairy lights all around the mansion and suddenly she got nervous, very nervous. Nevertheless, she took his help in getting off the car, walking to his left as the valet drove away with his car. 

    - We’re sticking with Betty? - he asked as they climbed up the stairs to the entry of the mansion. 

    - We are. - she nodded as he knocked on the door. A poshly dressed man opened the door allowing for her to peak inside. The room was full of people chatting to each other, champagne flutes in hand of roaring laughter. This was definitely different from the environment she was used to back at the club. 

Without noticing, she clung to his side as he moved through the seas of people drinking and admiring art work which she guessed was what was being auctioned until they got stopped by a slightly shorter than him man dressed in a black tuxedo. 

    - Barnes, you made it. I saved some of your favourite pieces for you. - he was happily talking until he noticed Y/N by the mob boss’ side. - Who is this lovely lady?

    - This is Betty. - he was an excellent liar, even she would’ve believed her name was Betty.

    - Pleasure to meet you, miss. - he curtsied which greatly confused her. - Do you want to come see them? I told my Miriam that the Proserpina paintings would be for Mr. Barnes when we started picking pieces. 

The mob boss was sweet on art? She curiously followed them into a badly light room in shades of burgundy and dark browns where several paintings. She observed them with an innocent look as Bucky heard about the prices and its overall worth. Of course they were not going into auction, they had been saved for him and him alone. He was important, stupidly important when compared to these other people. She could hear whispering from other people as he passed by, away from the room through other people.

The man, whose name Y/N still hadn’t really heard, left them in the entrance with everyone else, two champagne flutes immediately making their way to them. Yet, she still didn’t know exactly what to do. What would this be of use to her father? Someone liking art was common, something very common. Once again useless. 

   - Why did you bring me here if you don’t even need to attend the auction?

   - It’s a bad look to appear unaccompanied. Besides, I’d like to see the auction tonight.

   - I didn’t know you liked art. 

   - You thought I’d only like to see people dying, petal? - he spoke in a soft, calm manner but she could see his smirk through his strong facade. 

   - Look who it is. - Bucky’s face switched into an heavy expression, something Y/N barely saw and didn’t like to see. His arm pulled her behind him as someone dressed in what looked like a taffeta black suit walked up to him accompanied by a black haired woman in a skin tight burgundy dress much more sensual than Y/N’s blush pink flared dress. - James Buchanan Barnes, I thought you didn’t visit this part of town.

   - Rumlow, I visit whatever part I want. 

   - You remember my wife Rachel. - he pointed at the woman nearby him. - I don’t think I remember your friend. Care to introduce us?

   - This is Betty. She’s Sharon’s niece. 

   - Pleasure. There sure are lovely jewellery pieces tonight at auction, aren’t there?

   - And I believe I should care about those since I’m a woman. - Y/N gave him a forced smile, earning a scoff from Bucky who was trying not to laugh at her quick wit. 

    - I’m here to bid on the Elizabeth earrings. They’re a brilliant piece, don’t you think?

    - Yes, well ... we should be getting to our seats. - Bucky ignored the request for continuing the conversation, instead holding Y/N’s hand and leading her towards the auction room.

That was an odd conversation, one with underlying feelings of animosity. Maybe coming here was worth it, maybe that name “Rumlow” would be of use to her father. However, it didn’t matter as she was rather exciting to be in her very first auction. Sitting down in gold painted chairs she could see the paddles with several numbers and even the odd gentleman with a monocle. 

Bucky looked at her with a faint smile, observing how his world seemed to still entice her as for him it had long its spark a long, long time ago. People kept sitting down and soon enough the auctioneer was on the stage presenting pieces and shouting values of high amounts of money. High enough to pay for the rest of her degree, a masters and a few PhDs but she guessed this was how high society lived.

    - Finally, one of tonight’s most special pieces. - the man pointed at a pair of earrings on a glass box. - The Elizabeth earrings are made of white gold with two diamonds taken from The Cullinan diamond, one of the most precious in the world whose siblings belong to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Let’s start at 5 thousand.

Brock raised his paddle.

   - 5 thousand, does anyone says 6 thousand?

James rose his own paddle, surprising Y/N. She thought he was only here for the painting. 

   - 6 thousand, 7 thousand? - Brock once again rose his paddle. - 7 thousand, 8 thousand? 

Bucky once again rose his paddle, smirk on his face. He always enjoyed the chase and an auction chase was no exception. Besides, he would love to win those earrings just to piss off Brock Rumlow. 

   - 8 thousand, 9 thousand? - Brock rose his paddle again. - 9 thousand, 10 thousand?

   - 5 hundred thousand. - Bucky spoke out loud and clear for everyone to hear.

   - 5 hundred thousand, any higher? - Y/N’s gaze moved over to Brock who kept his paddle neatly in the middle of his lap, an upset expression gracing his face. His face moved to look at Barnes but he didn’t care, holding a winning smile on his lips. - Going once, going twice, going thrice ... Sold to Mr. Barnes. Congratulations.

Bucky didn’t low himself down to look at Rumlow instead getting up once the auction was over. Y/N followed him, curiosity once again getting hold of her and every fibre of hers. She had never seen diamonds in person, much less as precious as these ones were so once she went into the back and saw the woman place them into a red velvet box, she was done for. They placed the box on a nice black matte bag and handed it over to Mr. Barnes along with the certification of authenticity. 

The auction after party become boring afterwards, with Rumlow giving Barnes a look no one would like to receive and him having little to no care about it. At around 11PM, the time she would end her shift today, he started to walk away, tipping the valet some money to fetch his car while both of them waited outside. It was a cold night, the wind moaning in slow blows and suddenly she regretted not bringing a jacket. 

   - You should’ve brought a jacket. - before she could roll her eyes at this comment, she felt something fall onto her shoulders. Looking to the right shoulder, she recognised the navy blue fabric of his suit’s jacket. - Did you enjoy being someone else for the evening?

   - I didn’t envision my alter ego being Steve’s girlfriend’s family but I’ll accept it. It was nice, thank you for bringing me. 

   - My pleasure, Betty. - he joked. - I do prefer your name over Betty.

The valet brought back his beloved car and handed back the keys. It had been a rather fun night, one that surely went above and beyond her expectations. At least she had a name to give to her father, one of a contact that would be willing to speak about Barnes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel absolutely dirty about it. He hadn’t done anything bad to her, anything that would consider her betrayal. He’d hurt people, or at least that’s what her father said. He’d hurt people, but she’d only seen him doing it to those who actually deserved it. It was wrong, it was wrong but she had too. 

These thoughts kept her quiet, with eyes on the road. This was bad, this was bad, how was she going to betray him but that was the job. Feel nothing, her father had told her before, feel nothing and don’t get hurt. She didn’t want him to get locked up yet again maybe she was too innocent to see what was really happening. 

    - We’re here, Y/N. - he killed the engine, stopping in front of the building. - You don’t look alright. Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?

   - Oh, no, no. I’m just tired. - she lied. Once again lying. 

   - I’m sorry for keeping you up this late. I’ll double your night pay too.

   - It’s not necessary, Mr. Barnes.

   - Bucky.

   - Pardon?

   - Call me Bucky. - he corrected her. - From now on, you can call me Bucky.

   - Bucky. - she repeated, a silly smile forming on her face. - Well, goodnight Bucky.

   - Goodnight, petal. Don’t forget your bag. - he handed her bag to the young girl before waving his last goodbye.

She stood in the sidewalk, watching his car leave with a silly smile on her face. Why was she even smiling? She should be feeling guilty, not smiley. Yet she was stuck in the middle of those two emotions. She needed to go back to bed, that’s what she needed. She needed to go back to her bed and sleep it through so like every single night, she climbed the stairs up to her flat. Once in front of her old student flat door, she opened her wallet to search for her keys.

Damned keys, always seemed to disappear in the darkness of her bag and as she rummaged through the contents she had been throwing inside her bag over the years. As she kept searching for her keys, something fell from her bag onto the bag. 

   - Shit. - she mumbled to herself, squatting down to grab what had fallen. Her mouth opened agape as she saw the same velvet blue box from the auction. Looking around and seeing no one around, she opened the box and there they were, the same earrings she had seen on the auction glass along with a note. Maybe Betty will like them. JBB. - I can’t believe it.

Once again, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of mistake. These were 5 hundred thousand dollar pair of earrings for a woman who was wearing a hand me down dress from her mother. Before someone else could see them she shoved them back inside her purse, opening the door to her flat.

   - We need to talk. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner​ 

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - Chapter 2

I think I will be brave as well and post chapter 2.

In the chapter when Rowan muses about his call sign he uses the term FNG - it literally mean Fucking new guy. In US military it describes a newcomer.

Enjoy the chapter!

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The next morning Rowan was on his way to the fire station. He had left the house a bit early to allow for traffic or getting lost. In the end he had arrived with ten minutes to spare. He parked the car along the road and walked to the main area in front of the station and stopped. 

The tall training building was on fire and a few people were outside in front of it as if in waiting. He searched for the captain but she was not there. He wanted to go and ask to the team about her whereabouts but did not want to interrupt the training session. So he just decided to lean against a wall of the fire station, arms folded at his chest and just watch the drill. 

He was curious about why they were not using the truck or water and wondered if they were following a specific exercise.

Being a fighter pilot was full of risks but by looking at the raging fire and thinking that there were people willingly putting themselves through that inferno made him shiver. He’d rather been strapped in a metal cage than in a house on fire.

All of a sudden a figure ran out of the building carrying what looked like a dummy and two more followed.  He gasped when he recognised the captain. The dummy she was carrying on her shoulders must have weighed a ton and he was impressed. He followed her, dumping the dummy on the ground and joining the tall blonde man and pat him on the shoulder looking happy. His lips turned up in a hint of a smile.

Her eyes met his and she gave him a huge smile and Rowan straightened up and pulled away from the wall. She walked to him while unbuttoning her bulky fireproof jacket.

“Morning Captain,” she brushed her hair away from her face and Rowan’s heart started to race.

“Enjoyed the show?”

He cleared his voice while he tried to gain some sense again “That was fascinating.”

“Can you give me twenty minutes to have a very quick shower and get changed? You don’t want to be in a meeting with a stinky woman.”

Captain Whitethorn nodded “Take your time.”

“You can go and meet the guys. They are a friendly bunch.” She offered “just ignore the lewd jokes.”

“Thank you for the head’s up.”

Aelin ran away and he gathered some courage and walked to the team. He was not the best around people he did not know, but he wanted to play nice.

He took another step and the tall blond man noticed him and walked with purpose toward him and offered him his hand “Captain Whitethorn isn’t it?”

Rowan nodded.

“Aelin told us you were coming. I am Lieutenant Ashryver.”

Rowan nodded and studied the man in front of him and noticed that his posture and attitude screamed military. After he had spent all his adult life in the force he had gotten used to spot one of them. He had the same feeling at the base during the fire. 

“Can I introduce you to our team?”

“Gladly.”

Aedion turned to the red-haired woman “Ladies first. This is Ansel. Never leave her and Aelin alone because then you are in trouble.”

“Hey, I’ll tell her you said that and she will put you on truck cleaning duties for a month.” Aedion ignored her and continued “then here we have Brullo, Nox, Ress, Ren and finally Luca.” He grabbed the young man’s shoulder “he is our probie. He finished the academy and he joined us a few months ago. For now he is coming to the less serious calls but we are planning on coddling him a bit less and make him see the real stuff as well.”

Then the man turned around, scanning the area in search for something or someone “we also have two EMTs, Elide and Lysandra but they must be around the station doing something. You will meet them anyway.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Everyone, clean up and don’t leave everything to Luca. All of you haul ass. Nox, Ren you are on equipment duty. Ansel, Ress you two are on uniform checks. Brullo, take Luca with you and go over him some truck procedures for before and after calls. Now away all of you.”

Rowan chuckled. The man was definitely ex military. 

“Where did you serve?” He asked the man taking a chance.

“I was in the army. I was an artillery specialist. Once I retired Aelin called me saying her station was looking for recruits and I applied for the job. Guess my experience with explosives and such was a plus. Many years later I am still here and still loving it.” Then he studied the Captain “how did you guess?”

“Your posture. It’s the stick up your arse, as Captain Galathynius would say, that gets drilled into you from day one. The way you give order, again, very familiar.”

“Call her Aelin, Cap or Captain. She hates being called Captain Galathynius.”

Rowan raised a eyebrow with curiosity for that statement.

“I usually call her brat or menace.” Aedion chuckled “she is my cousin. I have known her since we were little. I have earned that privilege.”

Aedion started walking back into the station and Captain Whitethorn followed him.

“She has the bas habit of not filtering what she wants to say, can be brash and very vocal when she is mad at something or someone, but she loves her job and her team. She loves being a firefighter. She might be young be she is extremely capable. She is the first female captain. Absurd to think that before her it was just a boy’s club, eh?” The man joked, and lead him into a big spacious room with a lone table and chair and a kitchen at the bottom of it “If she keeps likes this I can see her climbing up the ladder pretty quickly, although I cannot imagine her in a desk job.”

Rowan knew very little about the woman but he had the same feeling.

“This is where we spend most of the time when we are on shift, all tasks are done and just wait for a call. We have books, video-games, tv… you name it. And like all families we fight for who controls the remote.”

Aelin joined them a moment later “Are you giving our Captain the tour?”

“Yes, just the cheap tour for now. You can give him the proper one later.” Aedion winked at her.

“I guess that after our meeting, the Captain will be more than happy to get rid of me.

“I gave you a tour of the base, I would love a tour of the station.”

Aelin’s mouth almost fell open in disbelief.

“If you are not fed up with me we can think about it.” And she turned around and walked away the same way he did the day before. 

Aedion gestured with his head to follow her and Rowan ran after her.

“I am sorry for the delay. Once I got back to work yesterday I had an email saying that our annual performance review is due in three weeks. I did not have a way to contact you otherwise I would have pushed the meeting forward a bit.”

“It was actually interesting watching you guys train.” He followed her to her office and took the seat she offered “we have performance reviews as well. What do you guys have to do?”

Aelin was caught off guard by him being talkative all of a sudden “We get tested on our abilities. We usually go to the academy, are given a scenario and the whole team has to work as if that was a real call. We also get to perform some individual tasks and those are timed. It’s a very stressful period.”

“You can leave our project to me until you are done with your review. I am happy to give you an update and you can come once a week to check how things are progressing if you are too busy.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Captain?” She smiled at him, leaning back in her chair.

He shook his head and she noticed him finally relaxing and sitting more comfortably in his chair “we have those review as well and they are always stressful for the team and I am aware how much of my time, preparing drills takes me. I am offering you to concentrate on your mission ahead for now and then catch up in three weeks.”

Was he actually being nice to her?

“I will be fine captain, but thank you for the offer. I appreciate it.”

“If you change your mind, my offer will still be on the table.”

“So,” she said quite abruptly changing the subject. If he even thought she needed his help because she was a woman he was in for a tough ride.

Aelin grabbed a folder with her plan. She had spent the entire previous day working on it. “These are the copies for you.” And she passed him a pile of papers “they are the ideas and changes I would like to suggest. I believe that is the part you will have to discuss with your CO. the biggest and probably most time consuming change is the extra door. All the other suggestions are repairs and perhaps replacements of old parts. I would like to explain again that these changes are not up for discussion. They need to happen.”

Captain Whitethorn nodded “I have discussed the matter with my CO after our meeting and he understands that and agrees. He promised me that he will fight until the last ditch if they start blocking him with budget bullshit, his exact words.”

“Please tell Air Commodore Salvaterre that I appreciate his cooperation. It goes in the interest of every single person who works at the base. Him included.”

“This pile here is a draft of possible training sessions for both your squadron and the ground crew. I want basic fire prevention training, fire extinguisher training, reviews of fire drills. I would like to do some training, especially with the ground crew on fuels handling, fuel storing and clearing spillages. Your squadron will be welcome as well. I think it will benefit everyone.” She flipped through her notes “I would like to nominate a couple of people as Fire champions or any other name we can come up with. Their role would be to perform monthly deep inspections and weekly spot checks. The idea is that by doing this, you are always on the ball with any problems. Of course we will provide training on how to do all this.” She kept explaining and the man in front of her listened to her with great interest, never interrupting her. 

“Needless to say that fire prevention is everyone’s job. See it, report it. And if you can, fix it.” She jotted down a few things “of course all of this depends on our rosters. I don’t know how it works for you guys but we work in shift patterns.”

“My squadron and I, we work Monday to Friday when we are ground-side. Ground staff such as engineers for example, they tend to follow shift patterns as well. I can talk to the supervisors for the mechanics and engineering team and see if I can get a roster from them. They are aware of the fact that extra training is on its way.”

“Please do. I have a feeling that will be the biggest job.”

“Do you have any questions for me so far?”

“Which venue will we use?”

Aelin tapped her pen on the table “I was thinking here if it’s okay with you. We have the equipment, also we don’t have maximum security checks.”

“Speaking of security…” he extracted something from his pocket “`I have your badge.”

Aelin took the badge he offered in surprise.

“I imagine we will be working together quite a lot and you will need to visit the base as well on a regular basis. You have now the badge with consultant clearance. It’s not a lot, but it will grant you access to all the are you will need. And no more forms to fill.”

“Thank you, captain,” she was speechless “Thank you for trusting me.”

She smiled fondly at him and Rowan realised he’d do literally anything to see that smile. It was intoxicating.

They worked for a few hours and Aelin realised it was not as bad as she had feared. The captain had been very keen to listen to her plans and making suggestions according to his knowledge of the base and his team. He had also looked a bit less uncomfortable and more willing to have a full conversation instead of monosyllables. At least it was progress and since it looked like they were going to work together for a while it was a good thing. 

When her stomach grumbled loudly she coughed embarrassed to try and cover it but the very faint hint of a grin on the captain’s lips told her that he had head her.

“We can stop for lunch, captain.”

Aelin almost blushed “I guess so. I think I have a black hole forming in my stomach. Those drills always leave me famished.” She stood “there is a lovely diner very nearby. Can I interest you in lunch? It’s on me. But no shop talk.” She was ready for a refusal but the captain stood and nodded.

“I’d like lunch.”

When they left the office they met Elide and Lysandra carrying boxes full of supplies to stock the ambulance. As soon as Rowan noticed he jumped forward and offered to help Elide.

“Let me carry them. They are quite bulky.”

“Thank you,” said the woman flashing a smile to Aelin then showed the captain the direction to the ambulance.

“Where do I place it?” He asked once they were arrived. Elide opened the back door of the vehicle “just here. Lys and I will sort through everything. Thank for the help.”

Lysandra dropped all her stuff and turned to the two captains.

“These are Lysandra and Elide, they are our two resident EMTs.”

“Ladies, this is captain Whitethorn.”

Lysandra mouthed hot to Aelin and the woman rolled her eyes. 

“The captain and I were going for lunch. Could you please tell Aedion to man the fort for me while I am away? I am just going to Emrys and I have a radio with me if anything happens.”

The woman nodded “I know the drill. Go, enjoy lunch.”

The two captains left “we are walking. The place is just down the road. We are all regulars there.”

Five minutes later they reached the small diner and Rowan thought the place looked cosy and felt like the good old fashioned family run restaurant.

“Emrys and his husband Malakai have been running this place since forever. It’s an institution in the neighbourhood.”

“Aelin, my girl.” A very smiling Emrys walked from behind the counter and went to hug the woman “Are you keeping well?”

“Of course.”

“Two today?” He asked looking at the Aelin’s companion.

“Yes please. Can we sit anywhere?”

“Go ahead.” He gestured pointing at the tables.

“Quiet today?”

“Not at all. You just missed the rush. Until twenty minutes ago we were full. Malkai is delivering an order to the police station.”

Aelin walked to the table near the window and invited Rowan to join her.

“Here’s the menu for your friend. Let me know when you are ready to order.”

Rowan took the menu, opened it and lowered his head to start reading it.

Aelin studied him for a moment while he was distracted. Stared at his hands and noticed the hint of a tattoo sneaking from underneath the uniform. Interesting, she would have never pinned the man as someone who would have a tattoo. A smile tugged at her lips. A part of her wanted quite badly to get to know him a bit more. “Your hair,” she asked “has it always been silver or it became like that with age?” Then she stopped embarrassed “I mean I am not saying that you look old. I just meant as if it got like that as you grew up.”

He lifted his head from the menu and his piercing green eyes settled on her “I was born like this. Apparently it runs in my family.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”

He gave her a half a smile. It did not linger. It was quick and for a second she thought she had imagined it “I am used to it.” He tapped on the plastic menu “you haven’t decided yet?”

“Oh no, I don’t need a menu. I know it by heart and I know what I want.”

Emrys came back and both placed their orders and Aelin enjoyed the shocked expression on the captain.

“You can’t possibly eat all that stuff.”

“Watch me.”

The silence grew uncomfortable again. It looked as if he was chatty only when it came to work.

“Why did you join the airforce?”

For a moment he looked stunned at her question “I was eighteen and fresh out of high school. Happy I was done studying. My parents wanted me to go to uni, but the idea of spending four more years on books was not for me.” He explained and noticed she had he hands folded under her chin “One day I met Lorcan. We knew each other from before already, being both from Wendlyn and all. It was nice to see a friendly face in a new place. Anyway, he told me he had moved here to Terrasen with the TAF. He told me they were recruiting and I went to the base during an open day. The day after I had signed up and a month later I was starting pilot academy.”

“Where in Wendlyn?”

“Doranelle.”

“I was there once. On holiday with…” no, not time yet “with a friend. We loved it very much.”

He nodded “It’s a nice place, but I must admit that after so many years I feel like an adopted citizen of Terrasen. Orynth is quite a gorgeous place.”

Emrys came with their food and Rowan noticed how skilfully placed all the plates on the table. As if he was used to have all those orders from her.

“You can’t be serious and actually eat all this food.”

Aelin tackled her first plate “watch the pro at work, captain.” She gave him a smile and Rowan shook his head and tackled his food.

“Why firefighter?”

He noticed her still for a second and the happiness wash away from her face in an instant. Fuck. Wrong question already.

“I was eight.” She said playing with her food for a moment “I was out playing with some of my friends. I was on my way home when I saw two massive fire trucks in front of my house and my home on fire.” She placed the fork on the plate “I ran toward the house but this fireman stopped me. I was crying and calling for my parents. He hugged me, he told me they were working to try and save my parents. I remember trashing in his arms to get free but he held me tight.” She took a bit to keep herself busy while telling the story “he took me to the back of the engine and showed me some of the tools and explained to me how the engine worked. He distracted me while his colleagues worked to stop the fire and save my parents.” She finally met his gaze “it took them almost two hours to kill the fire. After that there was nothing left of the house and of my life. My parents had been found dead in the house. The gas boiler has suffered a fault and basically exploded. They stood no chance.”

“Aelin I am…” his hand moved slowly closer to hers and brushed it gently “I am so sorry.”

“When I grew up I decided I wanted to be like the firemen who attended my fire. I wanted to rush into a house on fire and try to save some person’s parents of spouse and help them avoid the loss I suffered. I wanted to be like the man who stood with me and distracted me.”

Her finger lifted a little and met his almost in acknowledgement “Aedion’s family took me in. As soon as I finished high school I was like you. I had no interest in uni. So I signed up for the fire academy.”

“Sorry for ruining lunch.”

She shook her head and flicked his finger playfully. That had been the first contact between them. He had always kept his distance and that little flicker of affection made he heart flutter. The man was a puzzle. He could go from stone cold bastard to this in a small amount of time.

Aelin finished her food and noticed the captain staring at her with curiosity.

“I cannot believe it.”

“Told you,” she smiled at him with a smug expression “and I am even going to get cake.”

“No you are not.”

In defiance she stood and went to the counter and ordered chocolate hazelnut cake from Emrys. She came back and sat down again and ate the whole slice.

“Remind me to apply for a mortgage if I ever take you out for dinner.” At those words Rowan froze. He did not mean to do say that. It was supposed to be a joke but he should have learned by now that he was bad at making jokes.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Iceman.”

His head shoot up and looked at her. She had used his callsign. Something that only his squadron members would ever use. They all had one. It was a tradition. But it also meant something. It was always the other pilots in the team who choose the callsign. Never the pilot himself. It was a rite of passage that welcome you in the squadron. In a family. He got his one because of his hair. Everyone thought it was because he was cool and calm under pressure but no. When he was still one of the FNG he went through his naming ceremony like all the others FNG and they had decided he was going to be iceman because with his hair he reminded them of a creature from the snowy glaciers of the Staghorn mountains, hence iceman. Hearing her calling him like that made his heart skip a beat.

“We don’t have call signs. We got nicknames but nothing official like you guys.” She polished the plate from the chocolate left from the cake “the guys usually call me Captain or Cap. Aedion is the worst. Because he is my cousin he takes the liberty to call me brat or menace. I should really write him up for insubordination.”

She tapped his hand “come on grampa, let’s get back to work.” And stood. Rowan had wanted to grab that hand and hold it for a moment. It felt as if a small shift had happened in their weird work relationship.

Aelin paid for the meal as promised and they walked back to the station “are you sure you will be able to concentrate with all that food in you?”

On the way back Aelin looked up at the sky and noticed a few flakes that had started to follow. “Looks like it’s going to snow.”

She turned her head and caught Rowan sniffing the air, the eyes closed and a relaxed expression. The hard lines of his face had disappeared and the faint smile on his lips changed him completely. Yes, the man was hot but there was more to it. The very rare times that his face softened his eyes lit up as well turning a deeper green and made him stunning. She had a feeling those moments were rare and was glad that she had caught at least a couple. Like right now, his body relaxed enjoying the first flakes of snow. That was a precious insight in the man at her side.

“You like winter?” She broke the magic.

His eyes snapped open and his face turned hard again as if he hated being caught enjoying something.

“I do.” He said softly “I love the snow and winters in Terrasen are incredible.

Aelin smiled. His scent. His scent reminded her of Terrasen. Pine and snow. She had smelled it the other day while she was inside his plane and he was quite close to her. He smelled like winter and realised for a second that the nickname Iceman was perfect as well for that reason and not just because he could be a cold hearted bastard. They got back to the station and she found it quiet apart from Brullo and Luca near the fire engine. Apparently the man was explaining the youngster some of the routine checks they performed. He was their resident engineer and mechanic so he was the best one for that type of training.

“Nice lunch, Cap? Did you eat all the food at Emrys?”

“The vegetables are still there. They are safe.” Aelin turned when noticed that the joke came from Rowan.

Brullo and Luca burst out laughing “oh he is good.” Added the older man.

“My eating habits are the joke of the station.”

“Cap, they are insane.” Added Luca.

Aelin turned to Rowan and he lifted and eyebrow as if to say I agree with them.

She turned again on her colleagues “one more joke from the two of you and I’ll have you scrub the station from top to bottom with a toothbrush.” Then she turned on her feet and walked away to her office. 

Rowan tapped his hat in salute to the two men and followed her. He found her in the kitchen making coffee “Do you drink coffee?”

“I don’t think I could function without it.”

“Good. We basically drink it by the litre. It keeps you alive on a night shifts.”

She made some coffee and offered him a mug “milk, sugar?”

“Black, thank you.”

He watched her as she dropped two spoonfuls of sugar in it “All this sugar is not good for you.”

“Shhh you heathen.”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee “Thank you for lunch by the way.”

“My treat, for working with me.” She apologised, while leaning against the counter and drinking her coffee.

“You are not as bad as I thought. I agree with Aedion, you are a brat and a menace but I can work with that.” Bad idea. Rowan noticed anger flash in her eyes.

“I am not having you calling me that.” She slammed the cup on the counter “you barely know me and I have been professional, sure if cracking a joke or two makes me a brat it’s your problem you need sense of humour. I have been busting my ass to fix the shit that went down in your station.” She took a step toward him and Rowan braced himself “I know how I run my station. I am aware of every single problem or fault that happens here. Your fucking hangar went down in a blaze of glory and you had no idea of the shitstorm about to happen.” She was now a few mere centimetres from his face and a foolish part of him wanted to push her against the counter and kiss her senseless. She was mad at him and all he thought was how her lips would feel. What was wrong with him?

“Don’t ever call me that again with that smug face of your because I have no problems removing that smirk with a punch.”

Rowan kept staring at her in silence, not risking saying a word while she was that mad at him. Damn the woman had fire in her. And it did not matter he was getting a well deserved lashing down from her, he could not stop thinking that she was beautiful. Not just physically, she was fierce, brave and passionate and he was irremediably drawn to her.

Which it was totally crazy since they had met the day before.

“Now get the fuck out of my station. We are done for today.” And she stepped back.

“Captain, I did not mean to offend you.”

“I said out.” She repeated through gritted teeth “I have your contact. I will let you know when I am in the mood to meet you again.” She grabbed her coffee and walked away from him.

Rowan stood still and stared at the spot where she had been. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed himself for his stupidity. They had finally set aside the bad start they had, and messed up everything again.

He picked up his cap on the counter and then realised he had left all the documents in her office. He was about to walk to her but then changed his mind bad idea. So he just left the station, got back to his car and drove back to the base.

Aelin was furious. Why did he have to go and ruin everything with his bloody mouth of his?

That beautiful mouth of his.

She paced the office for ten minutes then she left, went to changing room and changed into her training gear. Some exercise will do her good to clear her head.

Aedion found her twenty minutes later “here you are,” he shouted as she ran back and forth in the yard with a dummy on her shoulders.

“Aelin!” He shouted when she did not stop. When she ignored him again he went in front of her and stopped her “Aelin.”

“What?” She growled dropping the dummy on the ground with a loud thump. She was breathless.

“I thought you were with the captain.”

She ignored him and grabbed the dummy again but Aedion stopped her and grabbed her hand “did something happened?”

“Yes, he happened. He is an arsehole and I don’t know why I am bothering to help him.”

“Because it’s your job.”

“Well, he can go and ask west station for all I care.”

Aedion shook his head “they are in our territory.”

Aelin ran a hand through her hair.

“Did he do something to you? Because if he did I am very good at hand to hand combat. I’ll destroy his stiff arse.”

Aelin chuckled. Aedion had always been very protective with her.

“He called me a brat and a menace. He said that I am not as bad as he thought and that he agrees with you for my nicknames.”

Aedion laughed “that’s why you are mad at him? Ace, I love you but you can be both.”

She sat down on the dummy “I know. But if you say it it doesn’t bother me. We grew up together. You know me better than anyone. He instead…” she punched the dummy’s face “he had this smug face and he used this tone like a condescending prick.”

She groaned “you can be a brat and a menace but I can work with it,” she repeated in a mocking tone “I am the one doing him a favour to help him. Idiot.”

“You just want to find an excuse to hate him and push him away from you.” He sat down on the dummy beside her “Ace, could it be that you like him but you are still too scared to allow another man in your life?”

“No. I have known the guy for two days. And no, I do not like him.” She protested.

“Would it be that bad?”

Aelin stood and faced him “I am not interested in getting any closer to him than what works dictates. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.

“You are overreacting and you are behaving like a brat and proving him right.”

She pushed him off the dummy “you are on truck duty for the whole week.” Aelin grabbed the dummy and went back to her training.

Rowan finally made it back to the base and went straight to his office but Lorcan intercepted him.

“You are back early. I thought you were going to be at the station all afternoon.”

Rowan ignored his CO and plopped on his chair and closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“That bad, eh?” Joked Lorcan at the man’s reaction.

“I opened my damn mouth. That’s what I did.”

Lorcan sat on the chair on the opposite side of the desk “What did you do? I thought you were the guy who counted till ten before opening his mouth. That’s why I gave you this assignment. I need this to go smoothly and fix all the shit that the old CO messed up. If I wanted to piss off the TFD’s captain I would have sent Moonbeam.”

Rowan snorted “probably would have been better. Far more charming than this cranky old bastard.”

“I have seen the woman. Fenrys would end up fucking everything. Literally.”

Lorcan sat back relaxed “I am coming to the station tomorrow and I will talk to her and bring her back into our good books.”

“You?” Rowan scoffed “if there is someone who has a worse temper than me is you, Lorcan.”

“I’ll be my charming self.” The man joked.

“The gods save us all.” Rowan joked standing and pacing the office “trying to scare her will not work either.”

“I noticed that. I wish some of our men would have that level of balls. Quite amazing for a woman.” Rowan’s head snapped at his CO’s words.

“Don’t even dare say anything like that in her face or you are a dead man.”

He and Lorcan would go along on most of the days but on some concepts, Lorcan still followed the good old fashioned ideas that for example females were not suited for the military, a topic they had many fights on. Rowan had tried to open up the ranks to a few more females in the squadron but Lorcan had rejected the idea every single time.

���You know how I feel about those things.”

“Yes, our very progressive man. Equality and all.”

“You can be such an arsehole.” Rowan stopped at the window “even the Navy is accepting women. Their recruitment for female officers is up by 40%. We are still to celebrate when we will have our first female officer.”

Lorcan growled “well, then move to the Navy.” He stood annoyed “flying a jet is not like service on an aircraft carrier!”

Rowan turned furious “you are not seriously telling me that you don’t believe a woman could fly a jet.” He slammed his fist on the table “I have seen Aelin in action and during drills. I have seen her jump into a building on fire without any second thought to save one of our men. I have seen her drag a dummy twice her size off a burning building while wearing the fire suit and an oxygen tank on her shoulder. She could probably do a vertical, pull 9G and then get off the plane and have a dance in our face. She is definitely not the fragile thing you think she is just because she is a woman.”

“What is your point?”

“Stop being a misogynist prick.”

Rowan phone went off and Lorcan moved away “if you are coming tomorrow, you leave that attitude behind.” Lorcan left and Rowan took the call. Once he was done he sat back down on his chair and looked outside noticing the snow falling and a gentle smile tugged his lips at the memory of the moment they had shared at the restaurant. He had to apologise. And quickly.

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Promise Me - Chapter 4 - New Days

Summary: Reader and Armin make a trip into town to buy some new clothes. Both taken out of their comfort zone, they start to see things a little differently, including each other. Content: Fluff Word Count: ~5,400

It had been about a month of working for Francisco and you and Armin both quickly realized how important mealtimes were for catching up and spending time together. Mealtimes were a bit similar back on Paradis, but it was to a whole different level with Francisco. Sheet pan after sheet pan of food was always on the counter and ready to be eaten at any point you were hungry. Each time the food was different. So many different flavors and new foods you’ve never tried were always provided.

Armin quickly became a cheese lover. He could eat an entire plate of cheese all on his own. You were more of a bread person, but once Francisco learned your favorites, he always made sure to have some type of bread and cheese with each meal for the both of you. You weren’t really sure if he was cooking the food or if he had someone cooking, but you were well aware of how much he loved to eat and also how important mealtimes were for him.

You looked over at Armin and watched him folding his pajamas. His hair was still wet from his shower and the way the water droplets dripped down his temples and the side of his face made you smile.

The barn was nothing like you thought it would be. Even with Francisco’s description. It was definitely a barn, but without the animals and all the other normal ‘barn things’, it really was just an open house. It was only a minute or so walk from the main house and it had everything you and Armin needed. The second-floor loft area was big enough for you both to sleep and store your things. On the first floor, there was a tiny bathroom with a shower and that was enough to make Armin happy. You folded up your blankets from sleeping and got ready to head to the main house for breakfast.

“You ready to eat?” You asked Armin while he was digging through his stuff. You both didn’t own much and you wondered what he could be looking for.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“What are you looking for?” You sat up to help him.

“I need a different shirt,” he mumbled.

“What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing?” He turned his body a little bit and you saw the huge tear in the back and moved over to him quickly. “Oh my gosh, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just got it caught on the buckle of my pants.”

He continued digging around and you noticed that he really didn’t have many shirts to choose from. Armin stuffed all of his things back in the pile he had and balanced himself on all fours, dropping his head.

“Do you think I can borrow one of your shirts?” He looked up at you. There was a strange hint of disappointment in his eyes and you weren’t sure where that was coming from.

“Sure.” You backed up and grabbed one of your shirts and handed it to him. He quickly pulled off his old shirt and you busied yourself with folding it, glancing up as he pulled your shirt over his head.

You had gotten your stitches out a couple weeks ago, but Ernesto didn’t clear you to start working until a few days ago. Armin, on the other hand, had been working on the vineyard for the last month and you could definitely see it in his body. His legs were a bit thicker, his back broader, his arms stronger. Even if he didn’t tear his shirt, it was already starting to get small.

“Let’s go.” He stood up and you both walked to the main house for breakfast.

“Good morning, you two.” Francisco smiled, folding his newspaper and setting it on the table in front of him. “Are you guys hungry?”

“Starving.” Armin smiled, patting his stomach. He moved to the kitchen counter and grabbed a plate and handed it to you, then grabbed one for himself. While you waited for Armin to serve himself food, you noticed Francisco eyeing Armin over his reading glasses and watched him. When he noticed you staring, he gestured Armin’s shirt and pointed to you and you nodded. He shook his head and smiled.

Armin moved to the table with his plate, piled with food. It amazed you the appetite he’s had the last couple weeks, but it made sense. It also made you laugh the way he ate, one hand holding his fork, the other holding his cup and his face hovering over his plate while he chewed the biggest bites he could fit in his mouth. You laughed to yourself and moved to the table to sit next to him.

“It’s Friday.” Francisco opened up his newspaper again and continued reading now that both of you were at the table. “Why don’t you guys go into town and buy some new clothes.”

You looked over at Armin and watched him sit up straight, chewing his food quickly so he could talk. You opened your mouth to speak, but Francisco continued.

“You’re doing too much work in the same shirts and pants.” His eyes stayed on his newspaper. “Just get a few new things. At least a week’s worth.”

“Francisco…” you started, “we… um, we really need to make sure we’re saving our money.”

“Not that you don’t pay us well,” Armin added, “we’re really grateful, but wearing the same clothes is fine. We don’t mind.”

“Armin.” Francisco looked at Armin over his reading glasses, smiling. “You’re growing. You can barely fit in Y/N’s shirts, you need to get clothes in your own size.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued.

“Don’t worry about the money.” He readjusted the newspaper. “Consider it a gift from me.”

“Fran—”

“A gift I insist on giving.” He smiled.

“We haven’t even done our work—” Armin started.

“You can take the day off.” Francisco kept his eyes on the newspaper. “It’s Friday.”

You looked to Armin and he was looking at you. It’s not that you both didn’t appreciate Francisco for what he was doing for you, but it was a lot. He didn’t even hesitate to take in two strangers, house them, feed them, and give them a job. And now he was giving you both a day off so you could go shopping for clothes with his money. It was too much.

“You might want to leave early so you can beat the old ladies shopping for their kids.” Francisco laughed. “Oh, and make sure you visit El Tajinaste. It’s a coffee shop on West Cavalier Street.”

“El Tajinaste?” Armin questioned and Francisco looked at both of you.

“It’s a coffee shop that sells coffee from my home country.” He folded up his newspaper. “It’s delicious. Make sure you stop there.”

You and Armin nodded and continued eating your breakfast, moving a little quicker now that you had to make it into town. You were starting to get nervous. Not about going into town, though that was a bit nerve-wracking. You and Armin haven’t had a reason to go into town since meeting Francisco. It was more about the idea of shopping for clothes. You really didn’t know how clothing boutiques worked here.

When you and Armin first washed ashore, you found one of the first places you could, that abandoned building. A couple blocks away was a small church with a donations center. It was there that you picked up the extra clothes and food you had. The money you were able to scrounge up was from the ground or donation boxes you were able to break open. You really didn’t have any experience shopping.

“Let’s try this one first.” Armin started walking into a woman’s boutique and you grabbed his arm.

“Wait, don’t you want to shop for you first?” You tugged him away from the shop entrance.

“I don’t think it matters really.” He shrugged and kept walking to the door.

“Wait.” He turned to look at you, giving you a questioning look.

“Are you nervous to go in there?” He started smiling.

“No.” You dropped his arm and looked away, trying to hold the tiny bit of fake confidence you had. “I’m just… okay, maybe a little.”

Armin smiled wider, stepping closer to you.

“It’s not so bad. Come on.” He stood behind you and pushed you forward.

“I can already tell it’s going to be weird.” You leaned back, trying to dig your heels in the sidewalk. “I’ve never worn stuff like this, Armin. Can we just shop for you first?”

“It’s not going to be any easier later.” He stopped pushing you. “Let’s just get it done now.”

“I don’t think any of that stuff would fit me well.” You adjusted your t-shirt and looked at the ground. Armin could see how uncomfortable you were and he couldn’t understand why you felt that way when he thought all of that stuff would fit you perfectly. He turned you to face him and put his hands on your shoulders which made you look at him.

“Y/N, the only reason I picked this shop was because you would look great in that sweater in the window.” You turned to look at the sweater. It was a dark blue cardigan that the headless mannequin wore over a white blouse. It was pretty. Too pretty. Too pretty for you. Armin could see in your face that you were already doubting it and he moved his hands to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “At least try it on.”

You started to sigh and Armin took that as enough of an agreement to grab your hand and pull you through the door. Inside the store was immediately cooler and quieter than the street you were both just standing on. There were two other shoppers inside and one of the employees was helping one of them while the other stayed behind the counter. Armin pulled you to the sweater in the window, looking for the rack that had the other sizes.

“Do you know what size you are?” He asked still holding your hand and using his other hand to sift through the sweaters.

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t just that you’ve gotten a bit smaller since losing a bit of the muscle you had on Paradis, but when you shopped for clothes on Paradis, you normally just grabbed the first size you saw. “I think maybe large?”

“Large is definitely not it.” A woman behind you spoke and you and Armin both turned. It was the other employee that was previously at the counter. “You look to be between sizes.”

She smiled at both of you, but it still had you stepping back. Even if there were a lot of people out and about and even if she was an employee here to help you, having someone approach you made you feel uncomfortable and defensive.

Armin pulled you back to stand next to him, his hand squeezing yours lightly. You looked over to him, taking a quiet breath to get yourself to calm down.

“Thank you for your help.” He smiled to the employee, his big, blue eyes and wide smile brightening up his face. “I was looking for the right size, but I couldn’t find it.”

“I can help you with that.” She moved closer and Armin moved you behind him and stepped back, it took a couple sifts through the rack and she pulled out a sweater, holding it up to you. “This color would look great on you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, slowly reaching for the hanger.

“Is there anything else I can help you with? Are you shopping for the new season?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “We have some lovely options near the fitting rooms.”

Armin lightly pushed you forward, dropping your hand and turning to look around the store. You watched him move away from you and wondered when he became such an adult and you became such a kid. The lady was still smiling at you and you tried to smile back, following her to the other clothes.

The shop had more clothes than you really could have imagined based on the front. Dresses for all occasions, pants of different kinds, t-shirts and blouses, as well as sweaters and even shoes. You weren’t much of a purse carrier, but they had tons of options for those.

“Are you looking for a new style or do you have a certain style in mind?” She pulled some sweaters from a rack and held onto them as she looked at you.

“I don’t think I have a style.” You shook your head uncomfortably and turned to look for Armin. The lady’s eyes followed yours and you watched him looking at the dresses.

“Your boyfriend seems to like the summer dresses.” You turned your head quickly and she was smiling.

“Oh, he’s not—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on which one he likes and bring it to you.” She winked and continued walking through the racks. “If you don’t have a style, let’s try to find one that you’ll like.”

You moved around the store quickly following behind the woman as she grabbed different things and then made your way to the dressing room for you to try it all on. When you looked over at Armin, he was still wandering around the store by himself and it made you laugh thinking about what he must be thinking of.

It took quite a while for you to make it through the stack of clothes the woman left you with. Some were things you would never wear and definitely didn’t like, but for the most part, she really did nail down your style of clothing. It was comfortable, easy to move in, incredibly practical, but also a little bit pretty. You weren’t sure how she knew, but she knew exactly the kind of stuff you would like.

The woman stepped inside and hung up a handful of new clothes, the one on the top being a blue dress. Your mouth dropped open as you looked at it.

“He was looking at this one for quite a while, but couldn’t find your size.” She looked really proud of herself and you gave a half-smile at the thought of this being something Armin liked. “Luckily we had a few extras in the back.”

“Thank you.” You lifted the bottom part up a little, feeling the thick, but soft material between your fingers.

“If you need help, let me know.” You nodded and she stepped back out. Just after closing the door, you heard a knock and she opened it back up, whispering to you. “He’s sitting on the couch just outside the dressing room if you want to show him the dress.”

She seemed so excited about you wearing this dress and showing Armin, but you really couldn’t understand it. It was just a dress. On top of that, it’s not like you were going to look amazing in it. Armin has seen you bleeding out onto the floor in your bra, what reason would he be interested in seeing you in a dress, but this woman was adamant and so you listened.

“I think you’re going to like this one.” The woman called back to Armin as she zipped up the last part of the dress, then turned to you and patted you on the shoulder. “Wait here, let me grab you a hat.”

Armin watched the woman slip out the dressing room and go to the rack of hats, grabbing a white, wide-brimmed hat and moving back to the dressing room. He rested forward, his elbows on his knees as he waited. As soon as he heard the door click open, he looked up, watching you step out, uncomfortable, but with a hopeful smile on your face.

“What do you think?” You asked. Armin’s eyes widened and he shot up from the couch quickly. He had no idea why he stood from his seat, but he did, he had to, his body taking over as his brain tried to understand what he was seeing and what it was making him feel. You looked lovely. So lovely that Armin’s brain was struggling to make sense of it as his heart pounded against his chest.

His eyes moved from the bottom of the baby blue dress, sitting just below your knees and followed it up, watching as it as it tightened around your waist, your breasts cupped so perfectly in the fabric. He tried not to think about it as his body forced him to swallow and his eyes continued scanning, stopping at your exposed shoulders. His breathing picked up and his mouth dropped open. Your bare shoulders. He would normally worry about you being cold, but now they looked so warm and so soft, the perfect place for him to lay his head.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t think of any words to use in the moment. His face continued moving from stunned to confused to completely charmed then back to stunned. Finally, he managed a light smile and he scratched his head.

“I think this might be a winner.” The lady said, watching you and Armin.

“Beau—bea—it’s, uh… you look beautiful.” Armin laughed at himself and dropped the bag he was carrying, scrambling to pick it up as his eyes continued watching you. You stepped forward to talk to him. “Are you going to get it?”

“I don’t know.” You were fiddling with your fingers as you thought about it. It made no sense to get a dress. What would you need it for? You worked on a vineyard. You don’t need a dress. Though you did feel really pretty. A feeling you’ve honestly only felt twice in your whole life. Armin put his hand on your hands and you looked at him.

“You should get it.” He nodded and smiled at you. “Please get it.”

Armin had no way to explain what he was feeling. He couldn’t put it into words that even he, himself, could understand. You looked great. More than great, you looked wonderful, even better now that you were standing in front of him, his hand holding yours. He really wanted to touch you. Not that he wasn’t already touching you, but the urge to hold you was so strong that he really wasn’t sure he could fight it.

He continued thinking as he watched you contemplate the dress. It wasn’t about protection. He often found himself wanting to grab you when there was some sort of danger around, but there was nothing there to guard you from.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again. He let his hand move to your waist, the warmth of your body spreading heat throughout his, and pulled you against him, his chin resting on your shoulder. The feeling was still there except now his heart was beating even faster as your bodies pressed against each other.

“Please get the dress,” he whispered, almost to himself. It wasn’t really about the dress. You did look beautiful, but Armin didn’t care about things like that. The part he really loved seeing was the look on your face when you stepped out of the dressing room. He had never seen that excited and hopeful look in your eyes before. Determined, strong, brave, he had seen all of that, but there was an unsure innocence in the way you looked at him that he was sure you hadn’t shown many people before, if any.

“I’ll think about it.” You pulled away from Armin and went back to the dressing room. You were already tired from shopping and it had only been one store. You looked at yourself in the dress through the mirror. You did look nice and honestly, it felt pretty nice wearing it. You really couldn’t understand Armin wanting you to get it so badly. There were so many reasons not to get it. The biggest reason being that this was Francisco’s money and you shouldn’t be using it to get something that really wasn’t useful, as much as you did like it.

You changed back into your clothes and hung the dress back up, feeling the material between your fingers one last time before grabbing it and handing it to the employee and organizing the items you did want to keep.

Armin waited back on the couch as you got your stuff together. The lady who was helping you stepped out of the dressing room and looked at Armin. She was holding the dress with a stack of other clothes and Armin stood up, his eyes widening at the thought of you keeping the dress, but without even saying anything, he could see by the look on the lady’s face that you decided not to keep it.

He sighed, about to sit back down feeling disappointed when he narrowed his eyes a bit, thinking. The lady noticed and peeked in the dressing room to see if you were still busy. She gave Armin a thumbs up and held the dress up a little, asking if he wanted to buy it without you knowing. He nodded his head with a big smile and she nodded back, running over to the cash register and ringing it up.

“How did you do?” Armin asked you as you stepped out of the dressing room with a bunch of clothes in your hands. He was trying to hide his anxiety and hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“Okay.” You lifted up some of the items, counting them to see. “I don’t know if three shirts and two pants count as a week’s worth of clothing, but that’s all I got.”

“That’s not bad,” he said encouragingly, “there’s other stores too. This isn’t the only one. You might have luck at another one.”

You nodded, setting your stuff at the counter with the lady and she started ringing them up with a smile. Armin grabbed the bags and you both left. The rest of the shopping went pretty well. As expected, it took Armin almost no time at all to find clothes. He seemed to know exactly the style he wanted.

The first time he stepped out of the dressing room, you couldn’t hide the smile on your face at his choice. He really did have a great sense of fashion and he knew how to pick clothes that fit his body well, he just didn’t realize how much he had grown and the shirts were a size too small. He looked like a tyrannosaurus rex trying to squeeze in the small shirt.

“Can you grab me a bigger size?” He looked at himself in the mirror and you both laughed as you went to grab a bigger size. Just in case, you grabbed a size up and another two sizes up and handed them to him.

Instead of moving back into the dressing room, he unbuttoned and pulled off the shirt he was wearing in front of you. Whatever smile you may have had on your face dropped as you watched his arms, chest and back muscles flex as he hung the small shirt back up and put on the one that was a size bigger. His fingers delicately buttoned each button starting from the top and unlike when you saw him in the bathroom at the house a month earlier, this time your eyes stayed locked on his bare chest as your heartrate picked up.

“This one is kind of tight too.” He pulled it off and hung it up. You swallowed and watched how low his pants sat on his hips, hips that you were sure weren’t there before. His pants rested on his newly-muscled lower half and you blinked yourself back to focus as he placed the shirt over his shoulders, moving to button it in the same way he did the previous one. It’s not that you never realized Armin wasn’t a child, you knew he wasn’t, but all your focus had been on making sure he was safe and protected, you weren’t looking at him as anything other than a younger scout you were supposed to protect.

However, there was something about seeing the small trail of light brown hair at his naval that had a rush of heat reaching your cheeks and your eyes lowered to the front of his jeans. You had to force yourself to look away, concentrating on readjusting the bags sitting next to you.

“This one’s good, right?” He turned to show you and you nodded quickly.

The time spent shopping for Armin was significantly shorter than the time spent shopping for you, but it was still already almost lunchtime and you both weren’t interested in spending the entire day out in town.

“Should we stop at the coffee place Francisco recommended?” Armin asked, shimmying his way through the entrance of the store with the bags stuffed in his hands.

“I can carry some of those bags, you know?” You held the door open for him as he walked through. He looked at the bags and handed you the smallest one.

“You can carry this one.” He smiled widely and it took you a while to realize he was joking. His cute giggle coming out when you started smiling.

“Very funny.” You laughed, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

You found the café exactly where Francisco said it would be. It wasn’t so much an indoor café as it was a walk-up café with seating outside in the front. Your knowledge of coffee was about as strong as your knowledge of shopping and you and Armin must have stood up front for a good ten minutes before either of you felt comfortable ordering.

You sat at a table in the corner and took a sip of your cappuccino, Armin’s eyes opened wide and watching you.

“What?” You asked, licking the coffee off your upper lip.

“How is it?”

“It’s coffee.” You couldn’t help but laugh knowing that wasn’t what he was asking. “It’s good. I actually really like it.”

You went to take another sip, making sure you actually did really like it and it wasn’t just that it was a novel taste. When you put the cup back down, you looked to Armin who had already gulped down half of his latte with honey.

“Armin!”

“What?”

“Slow down a little.”

“I like it. It’s sweet.” He smiled, taking another sip.

“Can I try some?” He slid the cup over to you and you took a sip. His was much sweeter than yours, but it wasn’t bad. It was a lightly sweetened flavor and you could see why he liked it.

“They should make a place like this in Paradis.” Armin took his cup back and continued sipping, but you could see that there was something on his mind and you waited for him to say it. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You took another sip of your drink.

“Do you think everyone is okay?” You watched him play with the straw in his cup.

“You mean on Paradis?” He nodded and you had to admit that the thought of your friends back home had come across your mind a bit more the last couple days.

You wondered if they even knew you and Armin were alive. They probably didn’t think there was much of a chance considering where you both fell from the carrier. They most likely weren’t even looking for you both, maybe just hoping that somehow you survived and waiting for you both to return home. Armin wasn’t even asking that though. He was worried about how they were doing. He was always thinking of others and how they were feeling.

“I think they are.” You tried to smile.

“Do you think it’s going to be different when we get back?”

“Probably.” You shrugged, knowing it was going to be really different, but not wanting to think about it. You felt bad, but you weren’t really thinking about how different it was going to be because for a little while you had actually forgotten what it was like. It wasn’t that you forgot the people back home, you really did miss everyone like crazy. But you would be lying if you said that there were times you had also forgotten.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You took another sip of your drink, watching Armin stir his ice around with his straw.

“I really like it here.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you even though he knew you were looking at him. He was pretty sure you understood what he was thinking about based on what he just said. What if we didn’t go back?

What if you didn’t? There was always the possibility that you wouldn’t be able to make it back, not without a carrier or a big ship. You really hadn’t put much thought into a plan on how it was going to work. Since getting hurt and meeting Francisco, your mind has been busy with a lot of things and plans to get back wasn’t really at the top of the list. Armin shook his head quickly and smiled, trying not to think about it.

“Whoa.” You looked up at him and his eyes were wide, his head swaying slightly.

“Armin, are you okay?”

“I’m kind of dizzy.” He rubbed his head, wincing as he closed his eyes.

“I think you drank that coffee too fast.” You reached forward and put your hand on his hand that was resting on the table. He pulled his other hand away from his forehead and looked at your hands on his, interlocking your fingers together. “We should get back and maybe eat something.”

He nodded and you both stood up, gathering your things and heading back to the main street. Even with Armin carrying most of the bags, he still wanted to hold your hand. It was different than linking arms and he liked it. It’s not like he’s never held your hand before. He was even holding it when you both first came into town, but it was different now. It felt different.

It was never weird either, yet why now, did it feel strange. Not strange in a way that felt uncomfortable, quite the opposite. Now it felt strange because it felt nice. It was just as comfortable as it always was, but now had the added benefit of making his heart fly around in his chest. He smiled to himself as you both walked down the street until he felt a pull of you not following and turned to look at you staring at a dress in the window of a shop.

It was the most feminine dress you’d ever seen. Where the blue one you tried on earlier was cute, this one was sweet with a hint of sexy, something you could never pull off, but you couldn’t stop looking at it. The puffy short sleeves kept your shoulders covered, but the low V in the front showed a little more skin.

It also looked like a different material than the other dress. This one was lighter, thinner, and rested gently on the curves of the mannequin. So feminine and pretty. Plus, the color was an appealing red, the small white dots on the dress gave it a tiny bit of playfulness. You felt Armin’s hand rest on your lower back.

“Do you want to try it on?” He was chewing on the straw from his coffee cup, watching you admire the dress in the window. You sighed, you weren’t one of the women that needed things like this. It would sit in your closet and gather dust. If that’s even what clothes did. You weren’t even sure.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You turned to Armin and he was already looking at you.

“I think there’s one around the corner.” He pointed and grabbed the bag you were holding. “I’ll wait here.”

You nodded and headed in the direction he was pointing. After Armin watched you turn the corner, he turned back to the dress in the window, thinking about your face as you looked at it.

When you came back from the bathroom, Armin was shuffling around with the bags, taking small sips from his coffee. You had no idea why he didn’t stop drinking it.

“Let’s go home?” He held out his arm and you took it, walking back home.

A/N: The fitting room scene with Armin was inspired by this fanart

Taglist: @harshita-nara​

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 2 - Desert Oasis

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, was it coincidence or was it meant to be?, 2.3k

@trevor-wilson-covington is my bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1

The boys entered the empty theater from backstage, all gazing at the splendor of it. Luke leapt onto the stage with a stomp, smiling at the echo. Alex just took in the high ceiling, the lights, and the private boxes that made it feel less like a concert venue and more like a mini operahouse. Reggie seemed to think something similar, and by extension made some wobbly ballerina spins across the stage. Not to miss an opportunity to show good form, Alex pirouetted and ended with a jeté, unable to resist feeling smug.

“Now that Alex has christened the stage,” Bobby said. “When do we do a sound check?”

“The stage manager guy said not till about five,” Luke mentioned. “So we can do whatever we need until then.”

“Then why’d we get here so early?”

Both Alex and Reggie gave Bobby funny looks. They knew why. Bobby’s face went from confusion to understanding as he added things together. Luke was already heading back toward the green room. Julie Molina hadn’t arrived yet, but he was clearly excited for when she did. He was probably compiling lyrics to show her.

“Met her once and he’s twitterpated,” Bobby joked, Reggie chuckling after him. “Bet you know what that’s all about, though, right Alex?”

“Well...” Alex said in a high-pitched voice. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the same thing. Willie was nice, and seemed to accept his invitation, but he didn’t dare assume.

“Come on, that waiter couldn’t keep his eyes off you,” Bobby insisted.

“Waiter?” Reggie puzzled. “What waiter?”

Alex looked at him, sticking his tongue in his cheek. “Really?”

Reggie shook his head, still clueless. Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Your friend, Smooth McDuck, here practically asked him out right in front of us,” he said. “How many pancakes did you eat anyway?”

“Ooooh that waiter!” Reggie said, finally.

“Okay,” Alex muttered to himself as they continued toward the green room. He didn’t want to get his hopes too high, especially with Bobby being so encouraging. Part of him was almost afraid of seeing Willie actually show up at the show tonight. It was more from the uncertainty of what Alex would do if he saw him again because he didn’t trust himself to keep his cool. How he’d managed it back in the diner he attributed to either his upset stomach or mild shock. 

As they reached the green room, Luke was on the phone, a concentrated look on his face. A crew member sat with his arms folded next to him.

“Uh huh...okay, thank you.” He sighed. “Yeah, sure thing. Thanks, bye.” He hung up and ran his hands over his face.

“What was that about?” Alex asked.

“Just called the motel to see when we could check in and they’re flooded, plus their other rooms are full,” Luke told them. “But they’re gonna give us our money back and hopefully we can find somewhere soon.”

Everyone groaned at the inconvenience. Finding somewhere in Vegas that they could afford within a handful of hours sounded practically impossible.

“Who wants to go hotel hunting?” Bobby said solemnly, looking around for more volunteers.

“I’ll do it,” Reggie responded.

“Me too,” Alex followed. “Is there a phone book?”

“I got you,” the crew member said, going back to a closet and pulling one out. He handed it to Alex, who proceeded to flip through the yellow pages.

“Anyone got a notepad so we can write numbers down?” he asked.

After a bit of scrambling between the rest of them, a pen and notepad were provided.

“I’m gonna go get the cash back,” Luke said, heading out to the van and disappearing.

In a combination of checking their map and collecting a list of numbers and locations, the other three looked at their options.

“Okay, I say we take turns making calls,” he said.

For the next hour Bobby, Reggie and Alex rotated between contacting numerous hotels and writing down prices and seeing where reservations were open. Most places were too expensive, the rest were booked. They were down to the last two numbers, and Reggie was on the second to last call.

“We need two rooms. Or one with room for four, if you have that,” he was saying for the umpteenth time. The silence thickened with anticipation, and then thinned out again. “No problem. Thanks anyway, bye.”

Hanging the receiver, Reggie sighed heavily.

“Man, if this last one doesn’t work, I am gonna hate driving back overnight,” Bobby stated.

“Me too, I can’t fall asleep in the car,” Reggie said. “I don’t know how Luke does it.”

“Well, let’s try this last one and hope for the best,” Alex told them.

He picked up the receiver again and dialed the last number, listening to it connect to the operator and then start ringing.

“Thanks for calling the Desert Oasis, my name is William, how can I help you?” A familiar voice said on the other line.

Alex dropped his jaw.

“Willie?” he breathed. Bobby and Reggie perked up in interest. Luke reentered the green room as he returned from collecting their money.

“Um...yes?” Willie answered in confusion. “Who am I speaking to?”

Alex chuckled nervously, avoiding the looks on all his friends’ faces.

“It’s, uh...it’s Alex. You work at a hotel too?” One of the guys playfully socked him in the shoulder and he swatted them away.

“Yeah, I do.” He could hear the slight happy tone in his voice and had to make himself focus on the task at hand.

“Cool, well, me and the guys are actually kinda desperate. Do you have any open rooms?”

“We should.” Alex pumped his fist excitedly at those words. He could see the rest of the guys’ faces light up.

“Do you want one with four beds or two with two beds?” Willie continued.

“What’s cheaper?”

“The one room. How many nights do you need?”

“Just tonight,” Alex told him.

There was a short pause on the other line.

“Okay, I’ve got you in.”

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed, to which the boys started celebrating. Luke and Bobby hollered while Reggie gave everyone high-fives. Honestly, if Willie had been in the room, Alex might have nearly choked him with a tight hug. “Thank you, Willie, thank you, thank you!”

WIllie giggled on the other line.

“Of course! You guys should check in soon though.”

“Yes, right,” Alex calmed from his euphoria. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Thank you, again!”

“Yeah man, I’ll see you soon!”

Alex hung up and ran his hands through his hair in relief.

Luke wrapped an arm around Alex and thumped his chest, and Alex in turn messed up his hair.

“Okay boys, let’s get checked in!” Luke cried as they all ran to clamber into the van again.

Alex was still wonderstruck at the idea of seeing Willie again. It had been only a couple of hours; maybe he’d been nervous at the thought of him appearing later that evening but now he was too excited for that. Even though it was a short drive, he made sure to ride shotgun this time. The last thing he wanted was for the nausea to resurface.

As they arrived, Alex grabbed his backpack and headed straight for the front desk. It was empty, but soon a man with dark curly hair came around the corner and stepped behind it.

“Sunset Curve, I presume?” he asked. He had a slight accent that Alex couldn’t place. Maybe it was French? Either way, he was disappointed not to see Willie there. The rest of the guys had piled in behind him.

“Yeah, man, that’s us!” Luke said, stepping forward.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie quipped habitually. The concierge gave him a stiff but polite smile. Luke quickly handed him the cash to pay for their stay and he was handed a room key.

“Your room will be on the second floor and then all the way down the hall to your right. Have a wonderful stay.”

Alex sat in disbelief while Luke had handled everything, so Reggie had to nudge him. Returning to the present, he shouldered his backpack and followed the boys to the elevator. He didn’t like the unsettling feeling descending on him like a shadow. It was more than just not seeing Willie upon arrival, but he couldn’t explain it just yet. A small pat to his shoulder diverted his attention.

“He’ll be around here somewhere,” Bobby assured him.

Alex nodded back to him, glad for the support. This was a newer side he was seeing from Bobby, and it was a change that strangely didn’t make him completely freak out.

As they got into their room, Reggie sprawled onto the main bed as though he were landing on a cloud. Luke claimed the couch, which Bobby insisted was a pullout bed as well. They all got to argue over which territory they claimed, and found out that the couch was just a couch, but there was a bed that came down off the wall in the closet. Reggie had brought his stuffed bear and placed it on the main bed, saying it was now being “reserved”. In retaliation, Bobby threatened to be the big spoon, to which Reggie replied “I’ll just be the bigger spoon!” in a very flustered manner. Alex sat on the bed from the wall with his legs crossed, enjoying the insanity.

“What you should really be fighting over is who gets to shower first,” he said, knowing the seeds of chaos he was sowing.

“Dibs! I call dibs!” Reggie yelled, raising a hand.

“Not if you can’t get in there first,” Luke said as he passed him on the way to the bathroom. This caused a comical fight to enter the bathroom, which Reggie ultimately lost.

“They know there’s showers at the venue, right?” Bobby muttered over to Alex.

“Not if we don’t tell ‘em,” Alex murmured back, giving him a fist bump. He preferred not to wait for all three of them at either location to finish getting cleaned up after the show.

Bobby picked up Luke’s acoustic and started playing around, and quickly Reggie sat on the floor to listen. Alex didn’t feel up to jamming and decided he needed to get out.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he announced, to which the other boys only nodded. He caught Reggie’s hypnotized expression as he looked up at Bobby and chuckled as he made his way out the door. He wondered if they would ever figure it out.

Alex pulled a drumstick out of his fanny pack and dragged it along the wall of the hotel, tapping a simple rhythm. This place was across the street from the diner, he’d noticed on their way in. The temptation to search for Willie grew, but he questioned it for a moment. Was he really going to get feelings for a guy he’d barely met and likely wouldn’t see after this trip? It seemed a little crazy.

He came to the end of the hallway and peered through the window overlooking the street. It was kind of a pretty view of the Red Rock Canyon, and would have been even better if the window had been wider. The sun was bright, inviting him to go outside. It isn’t searching for Willie, it’s just getting fresh air, he told himself. He took the stairs down to the main floor and waved at the concierge as he pushed his way out the door.

The wind had picked up a little, and Alex breathed in as the breeze swept over him. The heat was a little more intense than back home, but he liked the change. Heading toward the sidewalk, he chose to try just walking around the block before going back up to the room. Being on the outskirts of the city was thankfully much quieter.

Quiet enough to hear the gentle click-rooolllllll of small wheels behind him.

Before he could fully turn around, Alex was hit full force with someone’s entire body weight and they both landed together on the concrete. Grunting in pain, he looked to see Willie on the ground beside him, hand on top of a cracked helmet.

“There are better ways of getting my attention,” he said hoarsely, standing up.

“Sorry, I was meaning to stop before I got to you,” Willie said, chuckling through his own pain and holding onto his skateboard. Alex offered him a hand and Willie took it to help himself up. The closeness already had Alex catching his breath and he mentally begged to hold himself together repeatedly.

“So I don’t get it, do you just run back and forth between the hotel and the diner as you’re needed?” Alex asked.

Willie’s eyes went side to side and he shrugged.

“Sort of,” he told him. “It makes every day different.”

Alex caught a glimpse at his other hand and saw the newly opened sore that wasn’t being mentioned.

“Willie, your hand!” He cried, carefully taking hold of it so the palm faced up.

“It’s no big deal,” Willie said while trying to pull it away. Alex kept a firm grip on his wrist so he couldn’t hide it. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you shouldn’t stay cut open,” Alex scolded gently. He dug into his fanny pack and pulled out an alcohol cotton pad and some bandaids.

“Do you seriously carry those with you everywhere?” Willie wondered as Alex opened the packet.

“You’ve seen my friends, right?” was his only response. He continued to clean Willie’s hand, ignoring his winces, gasps and reflexive jerking, and then covered it the best he could with the bandaids. Willie just bit his lip and sighed.

“You used to play doctor with your teddy bear as a kid, huh?”

Alex looked at him and the adorable expression on his face was too much. He smirked.

“Right, hah. Not gonna be a problem, will it?”

Retaining his smile, Willie sat backward and raised his eyebrows.

“Problem? I don’t think so.”

He dropped his board and kicked off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Alex said, running after him.

Willie simply nodded for him to follow, and it was all too compelling. Holding the strap on his fanny pack, he ran to catch up, unsure where they were headed.

[twentytarot]

hi everyone! happy lunar new year to all that celebrate it, and happy late valentine’s day! i’m here with a pick a card to tell you what it is that makes you alluring and sexy to others. this isn’t 18+, so for those of you who aren’t comfy with sexual themes, not to worry! pick the image that sets your thoughts off and scroll down to your respective pile for your reading~ 😍

PILE ONE: CHESTNUT

first things first, let’s talk about that 1000 mph mind of yours. you have a sharp tongue, you always get the last word, and you have some next level comebacks that get people interested in knowing you better. there’s also that dangerous, “bad boy/girl” vibe that comes with the way you speak that others find sexy.

but where did all of that come from? you had practice, huh? i’m sure you’ve noticed that people have been much more positively interested in you as compared to a few years ago. now, let’s not kid ourselves here: humans are pretty superficial. in your younger years, you had features that didn’t fit quite right with the rest of you. maybe your eyes were a little too big, or your ears were sticking out a little— and people weren’t the kindest about it. you had to defend yourself as you reached puberty and slowly grew into the features that once didn’t fit, but then became desirable and distinctive. and now, with your more conventionally attractive looks and sharpened tongue, you feel more empowered than ever (in the social sense, at least).

and yet, you carry with you the scars of the previous decade, choosing to keep to yourself no matter how many people try to approach you. you like that people like you for you now, but you can’t help but wonder whether all these people would have loved you for who you were back then. i see no reason for you to let your guard down just yet, but you might want to look out for an aquarius or virgo over the next few months or so. 😉

PILE TWO: BUBBLES

you have an extremely alluring combination of kindness, strength and mystery that makes people want to be the one closest to you. they want to be on the receiving end of your wisdom and comfort, they want to feel your love, and most of all, they want to really know you. because no matter how good you are at empathising with others and providing comfort, you never disclose more about yourself than you have to, and that sprinkle of mystery surrounding you really seals the deal and pulls people in.

alright, i can already see you rolling your eyes. have you seen the meme where someone goes “anybody would be lucky to date you man!” and then the other person replies “so date me.” and then there’s just gunshots going off while the first person tries to weasel their way out of the awkward truth that they don’t want to date the second person? you kinda relate, don’t you. it’s almost like in theory, you’re attractive, but in reality, people find you too “sturdy and stable” to be fun on dates. you might also have more responsibilities than others your age and have to juggle quite a few things. again: in theory, people look up to you for that; in practice, they don’t have the patience for that.

that being said, your person is definitely around the corner. or they’re already there, and you’ve managed to put everything above behind you. whatever the case, you have a very precious heart, so protect it well! 

PILE THREE: FOLDING FAN

well, there’s no way around saying this: people think you’re good looking. you dress fashionably, you accessorise well, and you won the genetic lottery. of course, there’s good and bad to this. the good news is you always have choices and pretty much never miss when you shoot. the bad news is many of your past flings were very physical and didn’t bring you much clarity about being in a long term, committed relationship.

in fact, one half of you struggle with the fact that some people just wanted you for the sake of the game. they were attracted to the idea of people being impressed that they managed to get you, but not truly taken by you yourself at all. another group of you struggle with assuming that people just want you for your looks and then dragging yourself into a self-fulfilling prophecy loop that seems to confirm your suspicions on yourself and the people are around you, which then sends you on a downward spiral.

if you’re hiding these fears behind a bunch of funny “pretty privilege” tiktoks, i hope you know that you are more than all of that. when stability starts rolling around, you will feel like a fish out of water, but i can assure you it will bring in all the sunlight you’ve been wishing for in your life.

ps: look out for numbers 2 and 4!

PILE FOUR: LATERNS

oof, as someone who is terrible at giving gifts, i really envy you. you just know what to do to lighten the mood at any party, you just know what to buy everyone for christmas, you just know whom to call to hang out, you just know what to say to keep a conversation going. you carry this lightness and promise of romantic, happy endings around with you that is like a warm fireplace in the winter. and that’s why people like you so much!

i’m sure you’re lucky in friendship and love. if you’re not already attached and have a best friend gang, then you probably will soon. you’re just living your best life right now, i hear, and you probably have people lining up at your door to be around you, to try and absorb some of that abundant energy you’ve got going on right now. and i think you’re happy to help! there’s so much positive energy in your life that you can’t carry it all yourself anyway.

that being said, energy vampires are very real. or, well, at least some people just suck. look out for people trying to push you off your path and stab you in the back. if you speak frequently with your higher powers, remember to check in with them and trust your instincts.

ps: look out for numbers 2, 10, and 20!

[lucywritesreid]

Our own little island

Thank you for all the feedback from my last fic :3 I really don’t have any explanation for this other than....yeah...Spencer during lockdown haha.

Summary: Spencer and Y/N Have been living in their own private bubble during lockdown. YN has discovered a game and initially Spencer shows no interest...

There wasn’t much to say about the last few months other than they had been… weird. Weird on a global scale. You almost couldn’t believe how quickly everything went from normal to complete lockdown and watching the news every night had set you into complete panic mode. Both you and your highly germ-phobic boyfriend were more than happy to comply with the necessary restrictions. Spencer’s rational and calm mindset kept you both prepared and he did everything possible to reduce your anxiety. You would be forever grateful to have him by your side at such a horrible time.

For you the hardest adjustment was not seeing your work friends every day. It was odd to not spend every waking moment surrounded by all the people you loved the most. You didn’t realise just how much you would miss them despite seeing them all the time anyway. Friday night became the highlight. Your team, set up by Garcia, started a weekly quiz whereby everyone joined a Zoom call and one member was chosen to deliver a set of questions. Granted, it took Rossi a few failed attempts to be both seen and heard on camera, but you had all got it working in the end. Garcia’s quiz was based on cute, fluffy cartoon characters, Rossi delivered a mastermind style quiz all about the ratpack, Hotch surprised everyone with an in depth quiz about the employees of the FBI (where you realised he knew way more about personal lives of his colleagues) and you did pop culture through the ages. You had warned Spencer that ‘the history of the atom’ wasn’t in keeping with the Friday night spirit, and despite being met by many groans, he ended up presenting a fun and engaging quiz where losers had to take a shot for every question wrong. No surprise that he was the only one still standing by the end.

 The truth was that despite all the chaos and uncertainty, you realised that you were lucky to have so much time spent with the man you loved. Sure, you worked together, but that was as professional as you both could manage. Stolen kisses at the back of the jet and shoulder squeezes were as close as you could get whilst working. But at home, you both had free reign of each other. You were both night owls, sleeping through most of the sunshine. You spent your evenings playing chess, re-watching old horror movies and having a lot of sex. You were sure that you were keeping your local Thai restaurant in business, living mainly off that and tubs of ice cream. It was almost therapeutic spending your time lounging around in your comfortable clothes. Hours would pass while you both sat reading in silence (you, a few chapters, Spencer, a novel or three…), his arm slowly brushing the inside of your leg as you read. On the more anxious nights, Spencer would do absolutely anything to calm you down, making sure you were okay. He’d perform Shakespeare, teach you how to cheat cards, read to you in different languages and even let you braid the ends of his hair.

 You were very sure you were going to marry Spencer Reid.

 There was one of your hobbies that he didn’t quite understand. In the first few weeks at home, you had invested in a Nintendo Switch, mainly from the push of Garcia but you had been eyeing it up since it first came out. You spent many nights on animal crossing visiting Garcia and her magic candy land island. It was one way to experience the outside world without actually being there. There was something wholly therapeutic about going fishing, planting flowers and giving gifts to your wonderful animal villagers.

 Spencer, of course, didn’t really understand the appeal. Despite having the most wonderful brain you’d ever met, he seemed to have a block when it came to technology. He never discouraged you playing, but always looked over your shoulder with a furrowed brow whenever he saw you.

 “See that, y/n, there’s no way all those fossils would be in such close proximity to one another in such a small area.” He commented on more than one occasion. “What use is archaeology when they are just there on the ground for you to see?”

 “Spence, it’s a fictional world, I really don’t think they took into account geographical locations of fossils…” you couldn’t help but laugh whenever you spoke about it.

 “Don’t even get me started on the physical anatomy of these animals! How disproportioned they are from the real thing! And the colours, y/n! Have you ever met a purple tiger before?”

 You knew that he meant no harm from his remarks and was probably getting enjoyment out of it. So you’d shrug, offer him a turn and wait for some comment about how he was going to read an FBI report from 1987 again, and open your switch back up once he was distracted.

 One night, you had stayed up late to make wishes on your island. You really needed the star fragments to craft your new DIY recipes and had spent hours posed in position, ready to make a wish. You hadn’t realised that you were falling asleep and your switch was falling out of your hand, until…

 “YES! YES! Take that you stupid arachnid!” you heard a shout.

 Waking up and looking to your left, you blinked in amazement to see Spencer sat with your switch gripped between his fingers.

 “Spence? What are you doing? Are you okay?!” Many sleepless nights and bad dreams had left you very susceptible to fear when you heard shouting.

 He looked over to you and his cheeks flushed. “Oh, y/n, honey I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry! It’s just you fell asleep with your game in your hand, I went to turn it off and ended up talking about the stars with this wonderful little owl… She just tells you all these facts. And they are accurate, too! I even wished upon a star.”

 “That’s Celeste.” You commented, and yawned. “Spence, what time is it?”

 He squinted at the screen before replying, “4am.”

 You laughed. “And how long have you been playing animal crossing?”

 His focus went back to the screen but he carried on talking to you. “Oh, a few hours now! I’ve just caught a tarantula, the stupid son of a bitch bit me before! Did you know they could bite you in the game? I was just running around trying to get my bearings and it ran up behind me and bit me. But I showed it who’s boss. And hey! It turns out I was wrong about the fossils, in a sense..”

 You raised one eyebrow, “Dr Reid, wrong?”

 “Well, not wrong exactly. It’s still highly unlikely that they would be so close together, so close to houses, and be found in just one dig. But I took one to the museum after I dug it up and was really surprised. I hadn’t realised how accurate the information provided was about these fossils! And the details in the display, too! You’ve got yourself rather an impressive collection, y/n.”

“Mhmm.” Tiredness was setting in but listening to Spencer talk about your game was more than entertaining. You sat up slowly, leaned across and rested your head on his shoulder. “What else have you been up to?”

 “Well I recalculated the position of some of your flowers to maximise chances of getting hybrids. I know purple is your favourite colour so I looked into the best way to get purple flowers!” Spencer was speaking in that quick, animated tone that told you he was really into something. “I even researched the quickest and most beneficial ways of befriending your villagers to maximise the gifts that they give you. I spent a lot of time talking to the Raymond character.”

 “Raymond reminds me of you, y’know. Dapper, sophisticated, looks great in glasses…” you replied, nudging his shoulder with your forehead. “How did you find out all of this?”

 “Well, I read the whole Nookipedia website and that gave me a pretty good idea.” He turned to you and grinned. Of course, the genius had become the master of your favourite game in a matter of hours. “You can test me on any of the villagers’ names and personality types.”

 You looked down and saw piles of notepaper, all scribbled on, splayed out across the bed. You picked one up entitled ‘terraforming.’ Instead of trying to decipher Spencer’s handwriting, you decided to ask him about it. “Spence… what’s all this paper? What are these drawings?” You tilted your head and the paper simultaneously to try and get a better understanding of his scribbles.

 “Oh! I’ve been looking into reshaping your island. I came up with a few designs I thought you might like. My personal favourite is the honeybee, cos I know they are your favourite, so I calculated how we can use the terraforming tool to turn your island into a bee. Garcia would be so jealous and…” he trailed off.

 “What’s the matter?”

 He looked back at you with big puppy dog eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip a little before he spoke. “I’ve gone too far, haven’t I? This was your game, your private space, I never meant to take over. You really have done a great job…”

 All you could do was laugh. You leaned over and planted a reassuring kiss on his cheek. “Honestly? I’m really happy that you’re into this now. It means I can talk to you about it. Just you wait until you see Garcia’s island!”

“Really, you’re not mad at me?”

“It would be impossible to be mad at you, Spence. Maybe we’ll set up your own character now.”

And with that, you kissed him again, nuzzling into the comfort of his arm. “Show me what else you’ve been doing…”

[owl-with-a-pen]

Nia getting hurt and brainy turning to team-flash for help because he feels hopeless. Ty <3

- I've never written for The Flash characters before, so I hope this is okay! Seeing as Cisco recently left the show, I thought it'd be nice to focus on him. Thank you for the prompt! x

From day one, Cisco had learned that being a part of Team Flash meant staying on your toes, always keeping vigilant for the next attack and always being prepared for the subsequent counterattack Star Labs’ resident tech genius – aka him - could provide. It also meant, expect the weirdest thing imaginable and, then? Oh man, you gotta triple that.

Still, even with all of that in mind, Cisco was in no way prepared for an alien super genius to swoop in from God-knows-where and systematically dismantle his lab, not to mention steal his thunder in the process.

All in the space of under twenty minutes.

"Hey, so I’m flattered you came to us for help,” Cisco finally called out from the lab’s doorway. “But, this might be easier if you actually, I don't know? Talk to us."

Cisco had been watching in bewilderment as Brainy ran around his lab, muttering under his breath as he picked up various pieces of experimental tech with both parts appraisal and derision before throwing them each none-too-gently aside. Cisco flinched when Brainy threw one of his most recent experiments – an advanced interdimensional extrapolator designed in theory to breach the new universes that had been created by Crisis – onto the countertop. And it’d stay totally theoretical if Brainy continued to pay the same amount of care to Cisco’s handiwork as one might a discarded candy wrapper. God, he really needed to start marking these things as fragile - especially when company was over. Then again, he hadn't expected a visit from the fourth kind today.

"Hey, dude, talk to us, c'mon, we won't bite," Cisco prompted, holding up his hands placatingly. When Brainy continued without so much as a word thrown in their direction, Cisco turned to Caitlin desperately, nudging her arm. "Tell him we don't bite," he whispered loudly.

"We don't bite," Caitlin repeated exasperatedly. She’d been watching Brainy with care since he’d barged through Star Lab’s front doors. Because, seriously, could anyone just walk into this place? "Brainy - I understand you're worried for your girlfriend, but we can help you. Just tell us what you need."

Cisco knew that something big was going down in National City, enough that Kara had called ahead last minute to inform Team Flash that they’d be getting a surprise visit from one of the Super Friends. Surprise really had been the understatement of the day. Nearly the second Caitlin had been off the phone with Kara, Brainy had decided to make his grand entrance.

"I don't need anything from you," Brainy said through his teeth, quite possibly the first coherent sentence he’d directed to anyone since his arrival. He continued to move restlessly, shuffling through another pile of technology. "I require your equipment,” he elaborated stiffly. “Since the DEO's destruction, we are rather limited on supplies."

Cisco cringed. "Ooh yeah, I heard about that. Some alien god, right?"

Bad call, Cisco realised immediately. The second the words had come out of his mouth, Brainy tensed, hunching his shoulders.

"His name was Rama Khan,” Brainy said, his voice strained. “He came from a race of ancient beings."

“So, not a god?" Cisco said quickly, glancing to Caitlin for support. When she only shrugged, he fumbled for something, anything, to lighten the mood. “I mean, figures, right? Out of every form of media out there, it had to be Ancient Aliens that was on the right track.”

Brainy made a disgruntled sound at that, dangling another piece of tech out into his line of sight before making to throw it over his shoulder.

“My tachyon filtrator!” Cisco lurched forward, eyes wide. “Hey, hey, stop that!” He snatched his experimental baby from Brainy’s hands seconds before disaster, pointing an accusing finger at him. “No more throwing my stuff, got it?”

"Cisco," Caitlin murmured in warning. "Don't."

"Easy for you to say,” Cisco shot back. “He's not throwing your stuff." Cisco strode over to his workbench, collecting as many of his unfinished designs as he could carry into his arms and very deliberately placing them as far away from prying Coluan fingers as was humanly possible.

Cisco could feel Brainy’s eyes watching his every move, though he wasn’t sure if there was even a hint of an apology in his expression. From the short time they’d worked together in the past, he remembered Brainy as being pretty unfiltered when it came to conversation, if not a little socially inept. Still, he got his nickname for a reason. Dude was literally a walking talking supercomputer, capable of calculating probability to such a high degree of accuracy, he might as well have been psychic. In any other circumstance, Cisco would’ve been eager to pick his brain, maybe even get his input on some of his more complex designs.

Right now, though? Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, especially when he was so clearly distraught with what was happening over in National City.

Cisco had never formally met Dreamer before, but he’d seen her on the news enough to know that she was incredibly powerful. If something had taken her down, he knew it had to be bad.

And so, when Cisco was certain his tech was safe, he turned back to Brainy, eyeing him expectantly.

Finally, Brainy rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes. "Dreamer was affected by a meta," he explained carefully, lowering his chin. "The DEO had stockpiled technology, archived files on known meta attacks and their countermeasures. We- no, I lost that."

Well, Cisco didn’t need to be a twelfth-level whatever to know what Brainy was going through there. The guilt in his voice was practically tangible. Cisco seemed to remember that the DEO had had a sudden change in management during Lex Luthor’s reign, and if the files he’d been able to hack during that handover were true, then it’d been Brainy who’d been heading operations before the organisation’s literal collapse.

And now, Brainy’s girlfriend was in danger, caught in the crosshairs of a situation that couldn’t be fixed because of his mistake. Cisco swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat; he knew he wouldn’t have fared any better if Kamilla had been in that kind of danger.

"We've all done stuff we've regretted," Caitlin said carefully, stepping into the room. She folded her arms over her chest loosely, her brow furrowed with concern. "Look, maybe we don’t know each other very well, and maybe we can't even help advise you, but you clearly came here looking for something in particular so, we can at least supply you, right?” When Brainy turned towards her, eyes glimmering, Caitlin offered a gentle smile. “No one knows this lab's layout like Cisco, and if you need medical supplies, I've got you covered." Brainy held very still as Caitlin crossed the room and, when she was close enough, she reached out, hesitantly patting him on the shoulder. For all the confidence she was boasting right now, Cisco was far too aware that this was the closest alien encounter she'd had since meeting Kara, and for a lot of that time she'd been fronting as Frost.

"It's an extensive list," Brainy said warily. He didn’t shrug away from Caitlin’s touch, at least, which Cisco took as a small victory.

"Hey,” Cisco said, puffing out his chest, “you’re talking to Team Flash, here. I think we can handle it.”

Brainy’s eyes darted away from them both for a long moment, scanning empty air. When he blinked back into reality, he nodded, bowing his head. "Very well," Brainy relented.

With that, he made a vague gesture towards his head, pointing underhandedly with two fingers towards Cisco's pocket. In the same instant, his phone buzzed twice against his leg, indicating a text notification. Cisco fished it out of his pocket in confusion.

"I have transferred everything I need to your phone,” Brainy said by means of explanation.

“Huh. So you have,” Cisco said, eyes wide as he stared at the list of tech, trying very hard to keep his cool instead of grinning like an idiot at that awesome display of alien superpower. Maybe once he’d finished locating this stuff for Brainy, putting together the right machine to help his girlfriend, he’d have a chance to actually ask him some questions.

For now though, finding all this stuff took priority.

Cisco bit his cheek, nodding firmly. “Alright then,” he said, cracking his neck. “Looks like we should get started.”

Even though Brainy’s returning smile was pained, it was still a smile, which was definitely progress.

And hey, maybe Cisco would see a genuine one once Dreamer was safe and sound. Because he was gonna make sure that happened.

After all, that was what Team Flash was all about.

[flipomatic]

Choreography

Author Note: Here I am again, LisaYuki has reclaimed my soul.

Summary: “Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

Word Count: 1900

____________________________________________________________

Every time Roselia played their new song, Lisa was filled with overwhelming joy. The lyrics she wrote, the music Rinko composed, and the part she sang, all came perfectly together. The song was better than she ever expected it to be.

Soon they would perform Yakusoku for the first time, at an important concert. It had to be perfect by then, up to the high standard Roselia held for their music.

Today, on a cloudy afternoon, the final touches were being added. The song was almost ready to perform. Sayo had insisted on recording them playing it, so she could watch it back later for any errors. Her phone was set on a music stand in the back of the studio, capturing every note played.

Lisa focused on balancing playing and singing, making sure to be close enough to her mic. More than in any other song, she needed to be heard here. The notes from her bandmates flowed around her, with the drum carrying the heartbeat of the piece and the piano lifting it higher. She sang in reply to Yukina, as they built the song together.

Lisa’s heart always pounded in her chest when they reached the bridge of the song, where she alternated with Yukina. Lisa poured her feelings in every time, singing with everything she had. Her dedication, her loyalty, her affection; she wanted all of it to come through.

The last chorus was her favorite one, and she was sad to reach the end of the song.

Once the last note rang out, Lisa looked around at her bandmates. Rinko looked content as she slowly removed her hands from the keyboard. Ako was grinning from ear to ear. Sayo frowned slightly, but Lisa could tell that she was satisfied.

Yukina had turned to look at Lisa, their eyes locking when Lisa’s reached her. She nodded once, sending a wave of warmth and pride through Lisa.

Sayo stepped forward to stop the recording. “I’ll watch this later.” She said, holding up her phone. Lisa and Yukina broke eye contact to look at her. “But I think it’s ready.”

“I agree…” Rinko spoke quietly. Ako pumped one fist in agreement.

“The song has come together well.” Yukina deposited her mic on the stand. “Good work everyone. That’s all for today.”

With that dismissal, the band started to pack up. Lisa put her bass in its case, zipping it shut. She started to stow her music as well.

“The new song is so exciting!” Ako stood near Rinko as she packed up, talking excitedly about Yakusoku. “It builds really big!”

Rinko nodded in agreement. “I hope the audience… likes it.” She had finished stowing her keyboard, and was zipping up the case.

On the other side of the room, Sayo had finished putting her guitar away. Despite committing to do it later, she was already watching the recording. Yukina was with her, watching it as well. Lisa could barely hear it from here, though she thought it sounded good so far.

Lisa scooped up her bass case, slinging it over one shoulder. She approached the video watching pair as Rinko and Ako made their exit.

“How is it?” Lisa asked, drawing their eyes for a moment.

“The tempo has finally stabilized.” Despite the positive message, Sayo frowned. “It’s still missing something.” She looked irritated.

“Hmm…” Yukina mused, looking back down at the phone. Lisa stepped closer so she could do the same.

“I’m not sure it needs anything else.” Lisa said after thirty seconds of watching. It all looked good to her. The balance was perfect and as Sayo said, the tempo was under control. That had been their biggest problem when they started learning it.

Sayo was silent for a moment, as the video continued to play. Her eyes widened when the last chorus started. “That’s it.” She looked up at Yukina and Lisa. “We need choreography.”

“You’re right, I should’ve thought of that.” Yukina nodded, bringing one hand up to her face thoughtfully.

“It’ll boost engagement with the audience.” Sayo paused the video as she spoke, rewinding it to about the halfway point. “Especially if we time it right.” Her eyes practically glinted, in a sinister way that gave Lisa pause.

Lisa thought she might regret this, but she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Now Sayo smiled sharply, the look of one who was satisfied with themself. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, I have to see how it looks.” She stepped away, back towards the center of the room. “Do you have a few minutes to try something?”

Lisa glanced at Yukina, who shrugged. “Yeah, we can stay.” Lisa replied.

“Great, go ahead and get back into position.” Sayo gave the instructions as she walked to the back of the room. She’d be able to see the whole area from there.

Lisa walked to where she’d been rehearsing before, while Yukina grabbed the mic stand and did the same. She set her bass case down.

Once they were in position, Sayo gave more directions. “I’m thinking of having it during the bridge, right before the last chorus.”

That made sense, since it was the largest point of build up in the song. “I assume I’ll stay here.” Lisa said, gesturing at her feet. “Since I need the mic.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Sayo turned up the volume on her phone, then played the video for a moment. “No one will move until the line ‘my beloved.’” She played the start of the bridge, which began with Yukina’s lines, before pausing it. “At the end of that line, Yukina you should walk towards Lisa. You have to be there by the start of your next line.”

Sayo gestured for Yukina to obey as she played the song again, which Yukina quickly did. Lisa glanced over and watched Yukina approach as her own voice singing ‘my beloved… the tender sights of your many smiles’ played from the phone. Lisa’s stomach flipped, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

Sayo paused it at the end of the line, as with Yukina reaching Lisa just in time. “Put your hand on her shoulder.”

“Excuse me?” Yukina deadpanned. Lisa also wasn’t sure she had heard it right.

“You know what I said.” Sayo crossed her arms.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Then Yukina complied, bringing her right hand up slowly to rest it on Lisa’s shoulder. Yukina’s own shoulder was still a good distance away.

“Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

“Yes.” Sayo replied bluntly. She lifted her phone again. “Yukina, you’ll sing your next line like that.” She played the audio for a moment, with Yukina’s voice singing ‘I’ve gently awoken’ before pausing it again. “Hold the mic for Lisa so she can sing her next line. Lisa, put your free hand over hers.”

Oh, no, no no no. As Lisa turned her head towards Yukina, realizing just how close their faces were, she knew that she could not handle this. Her cheeks had been warm before, but now they burned. Yukina wasn’t even looking at her, since she was focused on following Sayo’s directions, but she was far, far too close. Lisa could hardly breathe.

Yukina held the mic in front of Lisa’s face as Sayo played the last line of the bridge on her phone. Lisa slowly brought her hand up as directed, covering Yukina’s with it. Lisa’s voice on the recording, soft and oh god why had she written the song like this, sang ‘keep believing in me until the end’. Sayo paused it again.

This was like Hidamari Rhodonite, but even less outside of Lisa’s control. It felt intimate, terrifying. Yukina was right there. Her golden eyes, expressive to only those who knew her best, met Lisa’s.

For a moment, there was just the two of them.

Lisa pulled her hand away quickly and broke eye contact, reminding herself to breathe.

“Then Yukina will take one step away, for the line you sing together.” That was easy, that Lisa could do. Yukina moved away, back towards the side of the room. The recording played one last time, the last line ‘it’s a promise’ ringing through the room.

“I’ll make sure to go stand in the back, so all eyes are on you.” Sayo said with a nod. That provided no comfort to Lisa, who felt like she could collapse into a melted pile of mush. Only the bass would be left if she did.

“The crowd will love it.” Yukina said, cutting Lisa’s protest short before she could even start to voice it. She turned to Lisa, eyes widening slightly. They flicked down, then back to Lisa’s face. “Are you alright?” Her eyebrows were furrowed with concern.

Lisa was sweating and flushed; she must’ve looked incredibly stressed. Her words caught in her throat. “I, hehe,” She chuckled nervously. “I’m fine.” She was not fine. Lisa was very far from fine. “Are we sure about this?”

“I think it represents the song well.” Yukina replied, her mouth turning down into a frown. “If you’re not comfortable, we can change it.”

“I…” Lisa inhaled slowly, processing Yukina’s words. She was giving her an out, a chance to escape this. But, didn’t this choreography represent the heart of the song? Yukina and Lisa’s promise, how close they were, and their past together, were all on display here. Lisa had known that when she wrote the lyrics. This was just choreography to match, to show the parts of her she had filled the song with. If she thought calmly about it, which was admittedly hard right now, it made sense.

It would enhance the song, make it even better. That was enough to influence her decision. “We should do it.” Lisa settled on, accepting the moves even as her heart still raced. She’d dealt with being close to Yukina for many years, she could handle this.

Yukina’s lips quirked up, the smile reaching her eyes.

“We’ll keep practicing it next time.” Sayo interrupted, approaching the pair. “I think it’ll work.”

Yukina nodded, and the trio resumed getting ready to leave. Lisa picked up her bass as they put the mic stand back, then headed out from the studio.

The breeze outside helped cool Lisa’s warm cheeks, but it couldn’t do anything to calm her racing mind. She glanced at Yukina as she walked, marveling at how calm Yukina had been. She really was a professional, the best singer Roselia could ask for. Lisa wondered what she thought as they performed the new moves, but that was a question for another time.

Lisa still loved the song she wrote, though she was going to need to keep practicing it. It captured the spirit of her promise with Yukina, her feelings towards her best friend, which would only be performed by the best. Lisa would follow through on that promise, until the very end.

The next step was to perform it without nearly passing out.

____________________________________________________________

End Note: The translation of Yakusoku lyrics is from the wikia, linked here: https://bandori.fandom.com/wiki/Yakusoku

To see this choreography performed by Roselia, you can watch a video of Rausch Yakusoku here: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1DU4y147kS

[intheseautumnhands]

Sorting The Last 5 Years

Hello I’m back with yet more tiny fandom sorting because I have Thoughts and also, Feelings. Let’s talk about The Last 5 Years, which has ranked consistently among my favorite all-time musicals for so very, very long, and has such great characters for dissecting.

First some brief housekeeping: This is based specifically off the script for the stage show, and the cast recording version by Norbert Leo Butz and Sherie Rene Scott in 2002. I have not been lucky enough to see this live. I also promise no consistency with the movie because I just... nope, sorry, don’t like it. I think I remember things being consistent enough that this’d probably be good for both, but I’m not gonna try to include movie-based thoughts.

Second: I am not purposefully getting into the great “who was at fault” debate but I think my thoughts on them as characters makes it clear that I think both of them have flaws, and that while Jamie crossed a lot more lines at the end, neither of them are blameless for the relationship’s issues. SHC is always kinda YMMV, but even moreso than usually, if you’re really biased towards one side or the other, we probably read these characters very differently. Which is cool and I’d love to hear other opinions! But I will not be surprised if we disagree somewhere along the line.

I’m going to do this slightly different than usual -- since we’ve only got two characters to talk about, and I want to discuss how their houses bounce off each other, I’m going to go by house instead of discussing by character. In addition, I’m going to go Secondary first, because I have a lot I want to say about their Primaries.

Secondaries

In his second song of the show, Jamie tells us exactly how he approaches life: 

But I say no, no, whatever I do I barrel on through, and I don’t complain No matter what I try, I’m flying full speed ahead.... Things might get bumpy, but Some people analyze every details Some people stall when they can’t see the trail Some people freeze out of fear that they’ll fail But I keep rolling on

If I had to pull out one singular moment to crystallize how he approaches things, that’d be it. Jamie doesn’t bother to stop and consider or change his approach. He sees what he wants, and he goes for it, and he’s lucky enough that that works out really, really well for him. And even when it’s a response to hardship, that’s still his approach. Just look at I Could Never Rescue You: so we could fight, or we could wait, or I could go. He decides there’s nothing else worth trying, calls someone else to help him leave, and goes.

Even when it’s not the best idea right now, when tempering what he has to say might help him get what he wants (If I Didn’t Believe In You) he doesn’t do it.  Jamie charges, he’s stubborn, he’s set on what he wants -- he’s a pretty intense Lion, in other words.

Cathy tries to go after what she wants, too, but she ends up with several more obstacles in her way. While a lot of that is luck of the draw, she’s also a little more hesitant overall. Look at her running internal monologue throughout Climbing Uphill, second-guessing every decision (why’d I pick these shoes, why’d I pick this song, why’d I pick this career).  In The Schmuel Song Jamie alludes to the same hesitance: maybe it’s just that you’re afraid to go out onto a limb(-o-vitch), maybe your heart’s completely swayed but your head can’t follow through.

She comes off as having that preparedness of a foundational Secondary -- I don’t see any hints of the breathless charge and certainty of a Lion, or the adaptability of a Snake. I honestly think either Bird or Badger would be suitable for her, and could easily be played into in either direction depending on small acting choices.

Absent of other interpretations, I’m going to lean Bird, off that line from Jamie above and some of the little nuances of Sherie’s performances. There’s a lot of frustration that this all isn’t coming more easily that, while it probably has a lot to do with how easily things have come to Jamie, also leans me away from Badger a little bit; but she’s clearly not unwilling to put in the work, and I could absolutely see that interpretation working just as well.

Primaries

Interestingly, Cathy is outright stated as having the traditional Snake-y trait: don’t you think that now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are? That’s not why I’m going to say that Cathy’s a Snake Primary, and Jamie’s clearly got ambitions too, but it does make me smile a little.

Loyalist Cathy’s earliest (timeline-wise) songs are so full of Snake wrap-myself-up-in-my-favorite-person sentiments and lines. Goodbye until tomorrow, goodbye until the rest of my life, and I have been waiting, I have been waiting for you. You don’t have to change a thing, just stay with me. I want you and you and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. I don’t mean to put on any pressure, but I know when a thing is right. Once Jamie’s in her life, that’s it, he’s a priority. It is heartbreaking to go back over this show and realize how much more of what Cathy says is directly about Jamie than the other way around.

Even later on, after we get the first tiny signs of tension, it’s still there. In The Next Ten Minutes: I don’t know why people run, I don’t know why things fall through, I don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you. I could protect and preserve, I could say no and good bye -- but why, Jamie, why? In Summer in Ohio: I found my guiding light, I tell the stars each night, look at me, look at him -- son of a bitch, I guess I’m doing something right.

It’s not even the first time she’s done this. In I Can Do Better Than That, she talks about a previous relationship in the same terms: I gave up my life for the better part of a year. When Cathy gets serious about someone, she makes them her priority,

And that’s what she gets, until that’s all she has, and she lashes out with the exact same thing she wanted at the beginning: you and you, and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. And I don’t think it’s because she didn’t actually want it. It’s because she thought it would be less one-sided.

Because idealist Jamie does put her high in his priorities, but he doesn’t put her first in the same, fixated way. Jamie’s instinctual and set-on-his-decisions Lion Primary chafes against Cathy’s expectation that he’ll put her above what he wants, fed into by that charging, bold instinct from his Secondary.

Which is not to say that Cathy isn’t important to Jamie. But the downfall in their relationship is that what that looks like is so different between the two of them, and they never figure out how to meet middle ground. They’re both unreliable, biased narrators in this story, and neither of them see what the other needs.

A while back, I talked about how different Primaries love. Jamie and Cathy could be case studies in what I said there, and especially in how that love can go bad.

Lion Jamie sees that they both have big dreams, and encourages Cathy to push her way forward on her dreams: Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant girl who inspired me?... Stop temping, and go and be happy! He uses the thing that is most important to him -- his writing -- to encourage her, show her that he sees her hesitance and he believes in her. And when they’re having problems, he puts the blame on how her dreams are going first: Is it just that you’re disappointed to be touring again for the summer? Did you think this would all be much easier than it’s turned out to be?

And that’s where we get, I think, one of the biggest highlights of how they misunderstand each other: If I’m cheering on your side, Cathy, why can’t you support mine? Cathy feels unsupported, Cathy feels like everything has become all about Jamie -- but Jamie feels the same way. The kind of support they need is different, and neither of them see it.

(Even at the height of their love story, the one moment they’re at the same page, The Next Ten Minutes, it says so much to me that Jamie keeps getting these lines about a bigger picture that he and Cathy are just part of: there are so many dreams I need to see with you -- not dreams about them, dreams they can see come true together. I will never change the world, until, I do.)

And Jamie withdraws, and takes her more and more for granted, and steamrolls over her both accidentally -- A Part of That, and Cathy’s fierce declaration of I will not be the girl who gets asked how it feels to be trotting along at the genius’ heels getting disproven in front of her eyes -- and then purposefully, when he decides it’s time to stop trying.

Meanwhile, Snake Cathy sees that as the betrayal. She puts him first, makes him the priority, and when she doesn’t get that in return, she sees it as everything being about Jamie instead of the balance being equal. Fed into by her own ambitions going unfulfilled despite her own best efforts, she clings tighter, until he feels suffocated by it: all that I ask for is one little corner, one private room at the back of my heart, tell her I found one, she sends out battalions to claim it and blow it apart.

Until Jamie leaves, and Cathy is left bitter by it: Jamie is probably feeling just fine. Jamie decides it’s his right to decide. Run away, like it’s simple, like it’s right. Because to her steady, solid foundational Secondary and person-focused Snake, Jamie’s impulsive choice and quick action is cowardice at best, proof he doesn’t care as much at worst.

In summary:

Cathy Hiatt is a Snake Primary/foundational Secondary, either works with the text, but based on OCR, likely Bird.

Jamie Wellerstein is a Double Lion.

And Cathy’s person-first version of support VS Jamie’s dreams-first version of support, and their lack of understanding what each other is trying to provide and needs to recieve, is the entire crux of why their relationship fails, with some help from their uneven amounts of luck in their dream careers.