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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

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aww, i can’t believe it’s the last day already. the event was fun, and i’m looking forward to you doing something like this again one of these days! for my request, can you do admin prompt seventeen? 🎀

Aww, me either, honestly! This event has flown by and has been absolutely fantastic thanks to you gorgeous readers and all the interesting asks you guys send in! I’m super flattered you wanted to ask about me, too and I hope these aren’t too boring.

SEND AN ASK: get to know your author

Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Honestly, yes. With a new job and everything going on in my life, I do get busy and my writing time can get limited. I always prioritize asks and requests and this blog over any other writing, and anytime I’m not writing asks, I’m working on the two ficlet collections (the K AU! and the comfort/fluff fics) because I know those have audiences that do want to read the next chapters, so those become my next priorities. While I’m trying to be kinder to myself in terms of my writing, I do push aside my crossover and OC writing 99% of the time, even if I have all these ideas in my head because I just normally don’t have much time to write them and still be as active on here as I’d like to be. I did clear off a sideblog I never used to really use as a catchplace for that project and I probably will try to get around to it, but it’s just not something I give myself much time for because I know it doesn’t have the interest or audience that my other writing does.

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Oh god, I’ve been writing a looooooooonnnnng time. I started on quizilla and it was cringe, but thankfully with that disappearing, all my earliest cringe writing disappeared. I know at least one person knows my old pen-name I wrote under on ff.net but seriously, I try to avoid looking at any of the writing on there either because it really is just so bad. Even some of my writing that still exists on polycanons, I look at with such embarrassment because I see so many mistakes or things I could have done better. So, in short…pretty much all of it, hahaha!!

What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favourite scenes first? Something else?

Where I write mostly requests, it’s actually really easy and straight-forward, most of my writing. When I write fics though, they tend to be drabbles, which is just straight scenes, or collections of scenes because I do write scene by scene and have a really hard time figuring out how best to connect them! I haven’t sat down and written an honest to god, beginning to end, in chronological order, fic in a really long time because I normally have a beginning and a general outline of how everything happens, along with an ending in mind, with strong scenes here and there, but no in-between parts.

Favourite character you’ve written?

That’s impossible!! I have written for over thirty fandoms to date, and while I might have favourite characters to write for from each fandom, I have no actual die-hard favourite overall!

Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

I’m still surprised at some of the requests I get, seeing which characters tend to be the most popular at any given time in the fandoms I write for. I was really surprised to have Bandou be a character I do get quite a few asks for, as he isn’t too many people’s favourite HOMRA boy, and was surprised to get that V request for Mystic Messenger, because I do know that, while I love him and find him such an intriguing character, he’s relatively strongly disliked within the fandom.

Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

Part of the reason I don’t go back and look at my old writing too often (even old requests on here) is because I always see something I want to rewrite or change. I’ll be proof-reading for stuff I post and then the post will be delayed because my mind will go ‘nope, that isn’t right, you can word that better or you should change it to this’ and while that’s great while proofing and editing, going back and rewriting entire fics or previously answered requests isn’t quite as possible.

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I have honestly never had anyone ask if I write, so I just don’t bring it up. I’m not embarrassed, even though fanfiction can be looked down upon, because I love to write, but it’s just more so that nobody really asks and I honestly don’t talk a lot about myself in general.

Favourite genre to write?

I will write most things and enjoy it (though fluff really does not come naturally or easily, but that’s the fun challenge to it). I will say that, overall, a lot of what I write tends to become either smut or angst and I live for writing AU’s, especially AU’s that have paranormal, supernatural, or mystery elements.

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Music and exercise really helps me not only straighten out ideas I have and figure out new ones but gives me the right state of mind to really straighten out characterization and wording as well. If it’s too gross to get outside, I’ll throw on my earbuds and music and pace around and around my apartment. If’s it nice out, I throw on music and head out for long walks.

Write in silence or with background noise? With people or alone?

While music helps with brainstorming, it does have to be off for me to write. I need relative silence to write, without extra background noise, and I do write alone or at least tucked away in my own little corner where the screen won’t be visible to anyone else.

What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I started writing at 9. Just little baby me, writing fanfiction out on paper, with terrible Mary-Sues and atrocious plot lines and wooden dialogue. Every single aspect of my writing has improved since that point, and I’m always improving in some new area as I continue to write. Even now, I’ll find I’m answering a request and something that would have taken me hours to figure out properly in my head is now only taking me thirty or forty minutes, sometimes even less.

Your weaknesses as an author?

That being said…my fuck, my dialogue writing is still fucking HARD. I struggle so incredibly much with dialogue, which is why you all might notice that it doesn’t occur a lot in my writing. It’s one of those things where, if I can avoid making them talk by summarizing a conversation, I’m taking that route. I do find I struggle a little with fluff or soft, romantic stuff, as mentioned above, but that’s simply because I’m not an overly romantic person as a whole and what I find sweet or cute, other die-hard romantics might find overly practical or bland.

Your strengths as an author?

Nobody can ever accuse me of not giving it my all. I pour my heart and soul into making every request, every fic, every sentence the very best I can do.

Do you make playlists for your current WIPs?

I don’t tend to make playlists for the stories overall or for specific requests (unless the request is music related), but I make them for the individual characters. I have general playlists for characters, for characters when writing particular AU’s, etc. and that is what I throw on when walking out my ideas.

Why did you start writing?

Because if I didn’t, I felt I would go insane. The words, the stories, the ideas cluttered up my head, made me feel overwhelmed and anxious, to the point where I couldn’t sleep, and I just started writing them out, because it helped me get them out of my head.

Are there any characters who haunt you?

Nope. I actually don’t feel haunted by any characters. All the ones I do feel a connection for feel more like friends, former or present, rather than ghosts.

If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

This one is really fucking personal and, honestly, the answer would not make anyone happy to hear, because it does touch on where I was in my life at that point, so honestly, let’s all skip this one.

Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

My style, my own unique writing voice, is more than likely the result of so many different authors, whose works I consumed voraciously as I grew. Stephen King, Douglas Adams, Jim Butcher, L.M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, J.K. Rowling…I am very sure that all of those authors helped play huge roles in me discovering my own writing style, because they were all mainstays of my bookshelves growing up and even now.

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc.?

I honestly don’t know. I don’t really sit down and write out all these outlines and character profiles and all that. They’re just there, in my head, like what I ate for dinner or where I’ll be next Friday.

Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

It’s a mixture of both. I tend to sit down to write, with plans to work on writing between this time and that time, and that’s what I do. However, if something isn’t coming naturally or I’m stuck on how to word something or I’m cramping up, I’ll get up and take a smoke break, grab a coffee, mindlessly grind a few levels on Blush Blush, or the like, which is why, on my writing days, you guys might notice it takes me a bit longer sometimes in between posts than normal.

What do you think when you read over your older work?

Kind of answered above, but I really try not to read my older works!

Are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Yes. Yes, I really do, which is why the rules on this blog exist, so obviously the things that I ban there are uncomfortable for me to write about. But there’s also times, though I do my very best to never let it hint through in the writing, where I really am ripping open old trauma, old scars, old pain and insecurities when answering certain topics or when I’m writing out certain fics. With the requests, I generally can’t help it if the topic requested ends up hitting too close to home, but other times, I’ll be writing a story and my experiences will start to colour it or past experiences will creep into the narrative and while I don’t remove them, because they do often make the characters or story richer for the telling, more nuanced and fleshed out, it is still a very personal, very vulnerable area I’m writing from.

Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I have lived a very…colourful…life, with experiences that happen to, viewing them back now, have been very outside the norm. Add to that the fact that I’m a fat, mentally ill, woman who isn’t fully Caucasian (I have enough Native blood to qualify for a card and cheap res cigarettes) and you have someone with lived experiences that can definitely help when diving into characters, when fleshing them out, when coming up with storylines, when playing out situations that might not occur to others.

Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or story?

Thanks to match-ups, I’ve become somewhat of an expert in MBTI results, despite my firm opinion of it of pseudoscience.

Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of?

Oh god…this one was hard. I had to really dig deep for this one and went back to the only fic I’m still at all proud of my ff.net days, a kind of ‘what does death hold’ fic for the Vongola family, focusing on Lambo…

“…His hand stretched out to them and he was unsurprised to find it clad in a cow-printed suit, the hand of the five-year old boy he’d been when he had first become Vongola, became family. He went to climb the next stair, went to join his family when a bolt of lightning hit the stair in front of him, shattering the stone. For one terrifying second, Lambo thought he would die before he finished climbing, before he got to them but instead of pain, he felt himself gently held in a pair of strong arms.

“It’s okay, Lambo. You’re home now,” Tsuna whispered out, smiling down at the young cow.

“Took you long enough to come home, dumb cow,” Gokudera’s voice said, drifting on the wind.

Early the next morning, the workers of the Namimori Shrine got quite the surprise. The storm of the previous night, the worst one Namimori had gotten in nearly twenty years, had destroyed most of the area around the shrine. Trees had blown over; power-lines had been knocked down. But most surprising was the steps leading up to the shrine. The second to last and last step had been struck by lightning and were crumbling and burnt. And on those steps was a man, pronounced dead by the medics the workers had called. His wallet gave his name and his information.

At fifty-eight, the Decimo’s Guardian of Lightning was dead, struck by one last fatal bolt of lightning.”

#event ask #admin talks #about the admin

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summercreolefanfictioner · 2 years

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✂️ for Maya please! <333

A/N: Hello, Sam! I'm sorry for the late response. This post got really long, plus I wanted this to show a dark side as much as possible so yeah haha. YOU ARE ALL WARNED!

TW: CHILD ABUSE, S*XPLOITATION

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

Actually, Maya doesn't have a lot of close friends to begin with (except for precious Yui) since she doesn't get attached that much, so she has no qualms ignoring ppl who dislike her. However, the only people she knows she had really cut off from her life would be her own family.

If you have read Maya's background post (link here) and the fourth chapter of the vampire doll series (link here), you would know that Maya came from a family of five and that they were poor. Like literally poor.

I didn't elaborate that much on what kind of family she had or who her parents and siblings were since first, Maya is a type of person who makes herself forget people, especially those who had something to do with her pain. And the only people who had inflicted her pain aside from the people from the brothel was her own family.

Plus I didn't know the importance of writing her background in detail until this ask was sent hahaha so my bad!

(I never wrote exactly why she hated her family in the fics or prompts, so Imma write this as well.)

So as mentioned Maya's family is so poor and her parents suddenly thought "our daughter is so pretty maybe we should make sacrifices this time." Like seriously the only train of thought they had is to sell Maya to the brothel bcos her mother will not be a best-seller there since she's kind of old and had 3 children already.

So when Maya was brought there, she was freakin clueless because she's only a child, probably around 6 or 7 years old, and she was fearing for her life cause lecherous men would be like "hmm that's a beautiful face, it turns me on" 😭💀

And so Maya lived her days in the brothel, internally cursing her parents and also trying to survive in that shithole. You know what's worse? Half of the money the brothel receives for selling Maya goes to her family. Like can you imagine making your daughter suffer while you survive from her pain? That's one shtty parenting right there.

And even tho Maya knows her siblings are hurt by their parents' decision, they benefitted from the money. Hence Maya decided to forget abt them and wait for the day when someone finally buys her, w/c doesn't come bcos the brothel owners would not sell her off. After all, she's their best-selling product.

When Karlheinz was making his vampire doll plan, he instantly knew Maya would fit the role. So when Maya tried to damage her face (cause the brothel owners said her face is the reason the customers keep coming back), Karlheinz stopped her and said he would take her far away from that town.

But since Maya wasn't for sale, Karlheinz just decided to screw it all and burn the whole town into ashes to make sure no one would stand in the way of his plans. Maya knew he was behind the arson and she begged for her life like "Please don't kill me. I'll do anything!"

And that's how Maya got his offer of being the first human doll to exist that would ensure no creatures from the demon world would wreak havoc in the human world.

Afterward, Maya decided to abandon a bit of her humanity. Like she doesn't go by her given birth name anymore. Everyone just calls her by her pseudonym "Maya." Like plain Maya with no surname. After all, dolls have no family so why would she have one?

She still remembers her real name, and Kanato even makes sure to remind her at times who she really is, so she won't forget the human girl who "died" because of betrayal.

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julsdsweet · 4 years

Text

2020 Testimonials

Nurulizzaty & Mohamed Hafiq wedding Date of Event: 19 & 25 December 2020 via Email

Subject: Kak Juls Testimonial

Dear kak Juls,

I hope all is well during this pandemic situation. I know this email comes a little late but I’m finally getting back to reality and would like to thank you for everything you have done on my wedding day. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for your wonderful service that you have provided throughout the 2 days you have done for us.

My make up artist, kak Juls has everything that I needed. She is very patience, very outgoing person, just as we are, coming from a lady who has a long experience in this industry, she is very well prepared of such questions and enquiries that probably all grooms and brides have in their mind. Her replies are very prompt and also she will give lots of suggestions - in terms of during fitting, time wise, what to prepare beforehand, and a big tip for me, to what skincare routine I should take to maintain a good and healthy face. Not to forgot, she is very flexible and could handle with different kinds of situation at the very last minute. After all, she can still attend to my needs.

Overall, she is one talented make up artist and her professionalism and a relaxing spirit were essential to our days of success. Thank you so much for your warmth presence from day 1 until the end of our event. We hope you will continue to give out your tremendous skills to the future newlyweds. We are glad to have chose you and having you on our wedding day. Wish you lots of future success with your business. Insha allah.

Best Regards,

Izza&Hafiq

Siti Jayrah & Farhan wedding Date of Event: 23 August 2020 via Instagram posting

JulsDsweet - Thank you kak Juls for the magic hands! Everyone were saying that I look different especially during nikah. Thank you for delivering my request the night before my event and thank you for the amazing hairdo that I dreamt of for my wedding!! Cantikk gilaaaa okkkk! Eventhough you're so gentle in person, you make sure Im always ok throughout the day, you entertain everyone especially our bridesmaid, bestman and photo/videographer. Jangan serik2 lagi tau layan adik2 akak ni!

JulsDsweet - Kajol adalah nama baru Kak Juls. She have a magic one! Ehk salah. Magic wand. Zyrah berpeluh camne pun muka dia takde crack linkes. Good job kak. Fun and easy to work with. Easily blend in with our kecohness. Geng2 happening jgk. Hahaha!

Noor Omairah's engagement Date of Event: 18 July 2020 via email

Dear Kak Juls

I am so glad I came across your Instagram profile while I was panic-finding for MUA - exactly a month ago! I think the primary reason why I enquired you in the first place was that I was thoroughly impressed by your portfolio (the makeup, the HD photos/videos etc). You certainly did not fail and met all of my expectations for my event.

Everyone complimented about my make-up and how I looked like a life-sized doll. My mum was elated that she looked extremely radiant, as well as the many compliments she received during the event. All these wouldn't have happened if not for your magic hands! So our biggest thank you for dolling us up, Kak Juls. Thank you also for our hilarious conversations throughout coupled with your cheerful personality, which really helped calm my nerves!

Insyallah if any opportunity arises for me to get a MUA, I'll look for you first ok! Hehe.

In the meantime, take care and stay safe. Keep in touch! :)

With Regards Noor Omairah

#2020 #testimonials #julsdsweet #make-up artist #singapore

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primofate · 2 years

Note

Genshin voicelines for the reader??? Like maybe they talk about them??? Would love Albedo and Xiao please. asjkfbdskbfjkebkbf I hope I'm not too late for the requests

I've actually done this for Albedo, but I posted it when I was shadowbanned, once upon a time.... hahaha.... Here is the complete ABC voicelines for Albedo:

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/654113010766544896/genshin-dating-voicelines-abcs

As for the other ones, I'll do a short one for each since I like this prompt :) Thank you anon!!!

Characters: Aether, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: suggestive if you squint (Kaeya), some crackfic/funny elements in there, let me know if there are pronoun slips.

Scenario: When someone asks about you and you are their S/O

Aether

“Companion? You mean Paimon? Oh...You mean Y/N. They’re not really my companion...They’re more like...a...hm...well...”

*Paimon butts in* “They’re dating!”

“Paimon! Uhhh...Well, that’s...basically it. *nervous laugh* I’m not embarrassed, I just...sometimes I still can’t believe that I get to experience every day with Y/N,”

Ayato

“I don’t usually divulge my personal matters to others but...If you ask about Y/N, there is only one possible word to describe them: Adorable...Specially when they’re subjected to my constant “badgering”. Their annoyed expression is quite the sight. *cheeky smile*”

Bennett

“Y/N is super nice to everyone and the best thing is, they’re super understanding! Y/N always picks me up when I’m down...Hehe...*scratches head then whispers* Uh, they can get kinda scary though, specially when I start blaming myself or my bad luck for something...They’ll start scolding me! But I guess that’s cause they really care,”

Chongyun

“!!! *small blush starting to form* Wh-Where did you hear about Y/N? Huh?! Why do I like them so much? Ahh... Mmm... They--They understand me! *in a smaller voice* and also they’re really good at making my special popsicles... *flustered* B-But of course that’s not the only reason why!”

Dainsleif

“...A persistent and rather stubborn human being. I tried several times to keep Y/N at bay yet they... persevered at so called ‘getting to know me’. How did it end? *coughs into hand* It didn’t end, I suppose I never wanted it to.”

Diluc

“...Have you ever witnessed the sunrise at Windrise? At the break of dawn, streaks of light touch the grass. As the sun rises, its light touches more of the massive oak tree. Its roots, its trunk, until you see the vastness of Mondstadt covered in sunlight...In a lot of ways, Y/N came into my life in the same way. They were always there, quietly providing warmth and light in places that I once thought never needed it,”

Gorou

“There isn’t anyone else I trust with my life more than them! They’re great company too. Y/N somehow always knows exactly what I need, whether it be a serving of tricolour dango, a glass of dango milk, or a barrage of sweet kisses---ah, um...-ahem-I...better get back to work!”

Itto

“Y/N?! Where?! *starts swerving his head around looking for you* Oh, you’re asking about ‘em. Hah! Psh, Y/N’s a legend! You gotta see ‘em to believe it! Forget about explainin’ to ya, you’ll never get it!. Let’s go look for ‘em instead eh? Then you’ll understand!”

*is secretly just wanting to look for you even though the two of you had probably seen each other in the morning*

Kaeya

“Ah, my little snowflake? *chuckles* Don’t be fooled, they’re quite feisty, but of course they are, being with me must have sharpened their senses. I make it a point to keep things interesting in the relationship. Hm? How? Oh but are you sure you’d like to know? *laughs* I jest. I just mean that I treat them with absolute affection every day,”

Kazuha

“Y/N? Hm... Home. Y/N makes me feel like I’m home. And for I who have wandered through lands and who’ve been away from Inazuma for a while, feeling like I’m home is a rare occurrence. But with them? Just their smile will turn even the darkest of days into a blessing,”

Razor

“...Y/N, very warm...Even in snow or in rain...Always warm.”

Scaramouche

“None of your business,”

Yes, that’s all. He ain’t gunna talk about you to someone he doesn’t even know or doesn’t even care about. Okay but let’s pretend that he does, I guess.

“None of your business, but you better keep your hands off. I’m watching you, *glare*”

Yes, that’s all.

Tartaglia

“My, my you’ve got a keen eye! What can I say? Y/N’s a pretty charming person. Charming people just tend to attract each other. *laughs* Well, in all seriousness, next to my family, Y/N’s my greatest treasure. They give me that extra energy I need for a hard and exciting battle,”

Thoma

“Ahaha! *nervous/shy laugh* Yeah, Y/N’s my partner. We’ve been together for a short while. Probably 3 years now? Hm? 3 years isn’t a short while? Hm... I guess what I mean is that it only feels like yesterday... I doubt even 10, 40, a 100 years or even a lifetime with Y/N is enough for me...Sometimes I even wish I met them sooner! *chuckles*”

Venti

“Y/N’s my dandelion wine supplier! Ehe~ I’m just kidding. The truth is, Y/N is keeps me out of trouble! Hehe. But they’re quite the troublemaker themselves too! Always getting away with things, specially stealing kisses and hugs from me. It takes a special person to get away with that!”

Xiao

“*narrows eyes* What’s your business with Y/N? ...My relationship...with them?... Nothing out of the ordinary...They just...like to hug me from time to time...and I... let them...”

*basically overprotective at first, then doesn’t admit that he enjoys your company way too much*

Xingqiu

“I often think that Y/N is a work of art. Like something out of Calx’s paintings. Just too enchanting for this world! *sigh* I consider myself lucky that they’ve chosen to stay by my side. Compared to them, I’m rather plain, though they always tell me that’s not the case. *shy smile*”

Zhongli

“My partner, but also one of the most trustworthy people I’ve met. I give them my utmost respect, and I value their insight above anyone else’s. As a lover, Y/N’s quite thoughtful and attentive, more so than I am, though they would disagree. It’s my hope that our bonds remain strong,”

Support me at ko-fi and read some exclusive fics!

https://ko-fi.com/primofate

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

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my-johnlockficrecs · 2 years

Note

Hi. I love your blog. I was wondering what your favourite fic(s) are?

hi sweet anon, thank you so much 🥺💕 i'm so glad you like my blog! and omg, what a difficult question 😂 anyone who's been in any fandom for an extended period of time accrues a lengthy list of favourite fics, and i'm no different. i just know that once i start listing fics, i'll instantly start going "oh and this one, and this, and this, and thi-" for the sake of everyone's sanity, i've limited this list to 15 of my fav fics, in no particular order. if you ask me again some time later, my list would probably be different, because that's just how many excellent fics this fandom has 🤷 (and i'm also just that indecisive 😭)

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (49k, M)

John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most.

An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (67k, E)

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

lean into a loved body by @simplyclockwork (60k, E)

Still reeling from Afghanistan, John Watson moves to farm country after inheriting his late grandfather’s property. There, he tries to come to terms with his new reality, the work cut out for him, and the failure of his marriage.

To top it all off, his awkward, bee-loving neighbour is kind of a madman.

A Firm Hand by Ellipsical (63k, E)

I started writing this fic in a hotel room in Japan two years ago after asking for prompts on Tumblr. This began as a one-shot for the prompt: Make me. And...I kept writing it. Hahaha, I really should know myself better by now.

I know many are turned off automatically by the Daddy kink tag, and honestly take care of yourselves and have a blessed day, if that's a hard no for you. But I will say that this fic begins as a Daddy kink fic and then transforms into something else. It's mainly an exploration of consent and identity and vulnerability and communication and agency and trust building and and and and.... I'll let the tags speak for the rest of it. This happens through sex. Lots and lots of sex. Some of the sex is kinky, but it is always switchy, switchy sex. Neither character is exclusively a top, neither one is exclusively a bottom, in fact I aim to make you question what those things mean. The Moriarty plot was very tangential to my wanting to write this story, but provides much of the urgency, so take it as you will, squinting from far away, perhaps ;)

Your comments are very important to me. If you enjoy this story, please let me know. I'm sending love and peace to you and yours <3 <3 <3 <3

Ghost Stories by @swissmissing (22k, M)

Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

In Need of Quiet Affection and Gentle Words by @kinklock (16k, E)

After John’s girlfriend (of sorts) sends him an online sex guide, John finds himself more intrigued by the guide’s author than anything his girlfriend might have had in mind.

The Printer is Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire) (40k, G)

John is a disgruntled customer who just wants his money back for a shoddy printer Harry ordered for him off of a catalogue. Sherlock is a bored customer service rep working the summer he has off from Oxford. They are both about to get more than they bargained for.

A Doctor in the House by @kitten-kin (32k, teen)

A replacement for Series 3 Episode 1 of BBC's "Sherlock", because my John would never.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (12k, M)

What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once:

Flirting.

He sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there.

He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (5k, G)

"Something in Wilde’s persecution has touched a nerve in Sherlock – snapped that tenuous thread of hope holding him upright – and it feels as if he has taken to bleeding internally."

Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

The Presbury Letters by Katie (17k, unrated)

Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and John Watson battle to survive the Great War. 17,000 words. Also as mp3 or m4b audio.

notes: it's a happy ending <3

Full of Grace by Katie (19k, unrated)

Oscar Wilde's incarceration, a wedding celebration for Violet Smith, and a pair of dancing men.

Twelfth Night by Katie (6k, unrated)

A parody of Forsythian schmangst: how to explain to Holmes that he is in fact homosexual, the effects of alcohol on Watson, and things that make ineffective lubricants. Adult humour.

A Quiet Murmuration by cathedral_carver (4k, teen)

Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.

things fairytales are made of series by @watsonshoneybee (67k, 7 works)

#asked and answered #sweet anons #fav fics #johnlock #johnlock fic recs #johnlock fics #bbc sherlock #fic recs #15 fav fics

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artkaolinite91 · 3 years

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Zutara Week 2021: Day 2- Disguise

And so..this is my attempts for the 2nd day prompt (yeah, I know.. I was late..lol)..😆😂

I was thinking to draw them in Masquerade theme.. I thought greyscale will makes the color process a bit faster and simpler..but..lool noope! Hahaha

I need so much time to finished this piece..

Really hope you all also enjoyed this pic as much as I do~

Tag: @zutaraweek

ps. Btw... I posted faster in my IG @/artkaolinite91 ..so if you also follow me there I much appreciated it~ xD

#zutara #zutara week #zutara week 2021 #my art #la2021arts #i hope my art improving...huhuhu #i really should have come back to tumblr..#atla #fanart #katara #zuko

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casifer-is-king · 3 years

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Private Investigator

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rated: T

Warnings: some language, infidelity.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing in like five years.... I'm gonna warn everyone right now that this is probably not great hahaha. But it was impossible for me to get this idea out of my head and once I started writing it just kind of kept going.... And since it's all written out now, I might as well post it. So if you read this, thank you so very much 🥺💜 This is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

You always gave your husband the benefit of the doubt. Even when all of your friends warned you about their suspicions. So, when it came down to you telling them you weren't going to confront him about anything without proof, they took it to heart and got planning.

That is how you found yourself in a crowded coffee shop during the lunch rush. Your two best friends, Ashley and Erin, sit across from you as you all wait for the Private Investigator that they had found who knows where. Supposedly, though, he was very qualified. And prompt, you noted, as the man you assumed was here to meet you walked up to your table three minutes before the appointed time.

"You must be my 12:30 meeting?" he asks."I'm Frankie Morales."

"It's nice to meet you," Ashley speaks up, then goes around introducing you all.

Frankie shakes hands with each of you before taking the empty seat next to you. In the crowded room, his chair is set close to your side and you can feel the heat of his body next to yours. He's definitely a cute guy you notice, in a rough, outdoorsy kind of way. His hair curls out from under a worn baseball cap and his facial hair is scruffy, but kept short with a patch along his jaw that doesn't seem to grow.

“So how can I help you ladies?” he asks.

“Well it's really for our friend here,” Erin states, gesturing to you. “It's her husband. We are pretty certain he's cheating on her.”

Frankie glances over at you. “Pretty certain, huh?” he asks as the waitress brings a cup of coffee over and places it in front of him. You find yourself suddenly distracted as he tears open two sugar packets with long, deft fingers, then picks up the spoon to stir it in.

Realizing that he's probably waiting for an answer, you feel yourself blush faintly. “They are pretty certain. I just want to be sure either way. I don't have any specific proof that he's cheating,” you say, finally tearing your eyes away from his hands. He's thoughtlessly twisting the spoon between his index finger and thumb. It's somehow entrancing, the way his fingers move.

“But he's definitely pretty shady,” Ashley steps in. “Suddenly he's working long hours at work, coming home late from the bars and claiming he's with his friends. Plus when is the last time he even took you out?”

The question is pointed at you, but you ignore it by looking into your tea cup instead. It had been months since the two of you had gone on a real date. It's something you both enjoyed a lot in the early years of your relationship - going out to a new restaurant every weekend and ordering three course meals just for the fun of it.

"Yeah, I see this shit all the time," he assures, saving you from having to answer. "If he's doing anything he shouldn't be, I'll find out."

Your friends and him discuss his rates and when payment is due before they rush off, both having to get back to work.

"Did you have to get going too?" Frankie asks you when it's just the two of you left at the table.

"Not yet," you reply.

"That's good." He ducks his head a little so you can't see his eyes anymore, "I was wondering if I could ask a few more questions. Like about your husband's schedule and where he likes to spend his time."

“Of course. He works at an architecture company downtown. It used to be a Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 type of job. But the past few months he's been working late, sometimes he's even going in on Saturdays. Says it's some big project and he's expecting a promotion by the end of it.”

Frankie takes note of your husband's workplace on one of the tiny napkins. When he sees that you're watching him, he ducks his eyes from view again. “Forgot my notebook,” he says sheepishly.

You crack a smile at his embarrassment, but don't say anything, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. You continue on like nothing happened. “He goes out with his friends a lot, but he's always been that way. I stopped going with him a while ago. He said it brings their team spirit down when he always has to explain the game to me.”

“Not big into sports?” Frankie asks, and you can detect a bit of teasing in his tone.

“Not even a little bit,” you laugh openly.

Frankie makes a little bullet point on his napkin and writes, ‘X sports,’ on it. “Any specific places your husband goes to watch the games?”

“Usually Sally's, over on 7th street,” you provide.

“Yeah, I know it. They do the karaoke after the game,” Frankie states nonchalantly.

“Yes! That's why we agreed on that bar. I'm a sucker for bad karaoke,” you laugh.

“You should see my friend Pope after he gets a few drinks in him,” Frankie chuckled. “Man can't even sing when he's sober, let alone drunk off his ass.”

“Those are just the best performances, though,” you say with a smile.

“It's definitely something,” Frankie nods with a snort.

Your phone chimes an alarm, alerting you off your next meeting you need to get to. "I'm sorry, I actually do have to go now," you apologize, actually feeling sorry that you had to leave this conversation. Frankie is easy to talk to, and an attentive listener.

"Oh, right. Well maybe I could get your number? Ya know, just in case I have any other questions as I go?" Frankie asks quietly, dipping his head again and fiddling with his long-empty coffee cup.

"Of course!" You agree readily, taking his offered phone and adding your details into his contacts. "And thank you again for doing this. It may end up being nothing, but my friends are very overzealous."

"It's not a problem. Just doing my job. I'll let you know what I come up with either way," Frankie replies with a small smile.

As you walk out together, he holds the door open for you and your turn to him once you both come out onto the sidewalk. "Does it often end up ending well? For people you've looked into in the past..." you ask.

Frankie squints a little and his eyes show flecks of warm caramel in the sunshine. "Not often," he replies finally.

You nod, your heart dropping faintly. His honesty is appreciated though, so you grace him with a small smile. "Thank you again."

You don't hear from Frankie for the next few days, but you do think of him. Especially any time your husband does something that makes your gut do that little tug of dread.

It's five days later that you get a text.

Game night tonight. Did your husband happen to say if he was going out? Frankie asks.

You reply maybe a bit too quickly, of course he is. He's leaving here soon to meet up with the guys.

You feel a little less self conscious when it's barely a second later and Frankie is already typing back. Well let's hope that's where he'll actually be.

He'd never miss a game XD, you reply. Sports are like religion to those guys. So you get to just go to the bar and watch them watch the game? Sounds fun hah.

No one ever said it was a glamorous job, Frankie sends back. But it's always a perk when I can drink and watch some football while I'm at it.

You send back some laughing emojis, and set your phone down to heat up some dinner.

Your husband sweeps through the kitchen, grabbing his keys and jacket. “I'm meeting the guys now,” he says.

“Ok, have a good time,” you reply, turning to face him. He nods, pulling on a hat. “I love you.”

“You too,” he replies briskly, dropping a faint kiss on your forehead and walking out the door.

You sigh, plating your food and wandering back to the living room to watch something on TV while you ate.

Your phone flashes a notification and you look down to see Frankie had sent another text.

How have you been doing? He asks.

As well as can be expected, you text back.

Try not to stress too much. I'll let you know if I find anything out, he replies.

It makes you smile, even if you know there's no way you'll stop stressing at this point.

The weeks went by and texts from Frankie became more frequent. He'd ask a few questions about your husband, then branch off into asking about your day. Those conversations then opened up to you both telling stories about your jobs, which would lead to talking about other aspects of your life. You talked a lot about your pasts - he tells you about how he grew up, some funny and interesting stories from his time in Delta Force, and about his best friend's MMA fights.

You tell him about your family, tell him stories about all the ridiculous people you come across at your job, and do a lot of venting about your crumbling marriage and husband.

You feel bad every time you bring it up, but it's always so much easier to talk to Frankie than it is even Ashley and Erin. At least with him, each of your concerns weren't met with a look of pity and “I told you so,” retort.

The marriage has been spiraling for several months now, and maybe hiring a private investigator was the push you needed to really bring the issues to light. You noticed more often when your husband chose to spend nights out “with the guys” and when he'd go into the other room to check his phone. And when you finally point out the lack of time he spends with you anymore, he gets automatically defensive.

You felt alone in your relationship and it was starting to make you feel bitter. He was definitely hiding something, and you trusted that Frankie would find out for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie had been working this job for a few weeks now. He'd worked a ton of infidelity investigations since he'd lost his pilot license and finally got clean. But this one was different. He wasn't sure what drew him to her, but he couldn't help but want to know her.

Was it professional to text your client every day asking her if Sally from the overnight shift left a pile of work behind for her to deal with for the fourth day in a row? Probably not. But that didn't stop him from trying to glean any little piece of information about her that he could.

He kept it friendly, though, trying not to cross farther from that line between client and something more. But she was a sweet woman, and she had seemed so quiet at that first meeting in the coffee shop. And sad. Like she didn't want to get caught up in the things her friends were saying, but somewhere deep down knew what they were saying was true.

And, dammit, Frankie always had a soft spot for sweet, sad women.

Which is why he is spending his seventh night in a row sitting in his car across the street from her husband's workplace. During their earlier conversation she had mentioned that her husband claimed he was working late tonight. But in the weeks that Frankie had been on this case, the man never worked late once.

Right on time, his target exited the building. He was not alone this time, though, having his arm around a brunette that Frankie recognized as one of his co-workers that he had gone to lunch with a couple times.

Frankie snapped a few pictures of them together, the target’s arm pulling the brunette closer than appropriate, in Frankie's opinion. They both got into his car and Frankie began to follow behind.

Just as they parked at some restaurant across town, Frankie's phone rings and Benny's name lights up the screen.

“Hey,” Frankie greets.

“Dude, where are you?” Benny asks, his voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

“I'm working,” Frankie replied, keeping a close watch as his target is sat conveniently at a window table.

“Come on, Fish, it's Friday night! Will and I are already at the bar drinking.”

Frankie checks the clock and scoffs a bit when he sees it's only 1830. “Sorry, Benny, but I have to work late tonight.”

“You make your own hours. Isn't that why you chose that damned job? So you can decide when you do and don't work. So just decide you can't work tonight and get your ass over here!” Benny all but whines. “What's the deal with this case, Fish? I thought it was a simple cheating husband. You're not usually so obsessive over these ones.”

And leave it to Benny to call him out on his abnormal behavior. “I'm gonna close this case tonight, I have a feeling. Sorry, brother, but I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for practice,” Frankie placates his best friend.

“Sure, ok man. See ya then,” Benny finally gives in.

It's another boring hour of staring at his target before they are finally on the move again. Back to what Frankie assumes is the brunette's house, where they both go inside and Frankie adjusts himself in his seat to find a comfy position for the foreseeable future.

It's another two hours later when the door finally opens and Frankie scrambles to get his camera up, keeping his head down. He hopes for a little luck and is rewarded when both parties enter the doorway and embrace with a final, passionate kiss.

Frankie's camera keeps clicking away, even as his anger continues to rise. He has to hold himself back from throwing himself out of the car and punching his target in the face. He wants to know why her husband would bother with another woman when he has her at home waiting. Wants to know why her husband would throw away everything he has with the sweet woman who was so trusting at the start of all this. But that would definitely be crossing a line, and Frankie has never felt the need to go that far before. So he reins himself and waits until the target has driven away and the brunette has closed the door behind her, before he drives home himself to develop the pictures and complete his paperwork.

Developing pictures at home can be time consuming, but Frankie usually finds comfort in the task. It's a hobby he took up to distract himself from his cravings, and the darkroom usually brings him comfort after particularly stressful days. Tonight, though, watching these images fade onto the photo paper, he is angry. He knows this news is going to crush her, regardless of her suspicions. And while this is usually the case with clients, Frankie isn't sure that he could handle it if you broke down in front of him as some women have in the past.

He's learned so much about her in the past few weeks, from her favorite color to her favorite song when she was 10, and all of these things have endeared her to him in a way no other person has before. And he's opened up to her in return; in a way he hasn't any other woman in his past. But she makes it easy.

It's late when Frankie has finished compiling the file, so he decides not to text her yet and strips down for bed and drifts off, hoping for at least a few hours of restful, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got a text from Frankie late the next morning, hey, dulzura. What are your plans today?

Finally my day off lol, you text back.

Think you could pencil me into your busy schedule? Say in an hour?

Frankie had yet to schedule another meeting, opting to ask any questions he had between texts about their days. With a sinking feeling, you quickly type out, definitely. How about the same café as before?

Sounds good. I'll see you then.

You got ready with a sense of dread. You knew that this meant Frankie had found something. There was that small chance that he came up with nothing in these past few weeks, but the more realistic side of you knew how this would end.

The drive to the coffee shop was short, and the parking lot was thankfully much less crowded than last time. Walking in, you spotted Frankie right away at the same table by the windows. You placed your order before heading over to the table. He was stirring a cup of coffee again, but quickly turned his whole focus toward you as you sag across from him.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Frankie asked. “Your friends couldn't make it?”

“I'm good. It's nice to see you again,” you answered. “I actually didn't tell them. I kinda wanted to find out the truth privately. I'll tell them as soon as I've processed whatever you have to tell me. I'm assuming that's why you wanted to meet? You found what we were looking for?”

Frankie's hand moves to the back of his neck as he gives a slow nod. He pulls a yellow envelope from the chair next to him and places it on the table between you. “Yeah. I have some pictures here.”

You begin to reach out, but stop short before touching the folder. You know if you look now, in the middle of this café, you'll just break down when you see the proof of your husband's affair.

“Please just tell me,” you implore, eyes looking up, but not quite reaching his.

Frankie is quiet for a moment, studying you with his chocolate eyes. Finally he lets out a short sigh and responds, “Andrew's having an affair with a coworker. Looks like it's been around five months.”

The news hits you directly in the chest. It makes it hard to breathe. Knowing it was likely that he was cheating and having picture proof of it are two different things. You feel like it shouldn't hurt this much, but can't help the way your body collapses into itself.

“I know it's not the news you wanted,” Frankie starts, but you cut him off.

“No, but it's what I needed to know. So thank you. I appreciate all the work you put into it. I'm really sorry, but Ashley just went out of town and she won't be back for two weeks. I can get Erin's half of your fee, then get the rest as soon as Ash is back.” You quickly switch to the business end of the meeting, hoping to delay having to come to terms with this new information.

Frankie looks a little whiplashed at the sudden change in topic, but catches up quickly. “It's really not a big deal. I'm not too worried about two weeks. How about we just meet up again once you all have everything together. No stress.”

His hands are fiddling with his coffee cup again, and you focus on them as one index finger absently caresses the handle of the cup, the thumb of his other hand moving up and down the opposite side of it. You're caught off guard again by the movement of his fingers. It's sensual, how his large hands and long fingers massage the warm ceramic.

You're distracted from your observation of those hands when the barista sets your to-go tea in front of you. Finally looking up again, you see Frankie's brows have pinched together, forming a little worry line between them.

“I'll get it to you as soon as possible,” you finally fall back into conversation.

“That's fine. Really, don't stress about it,” Frankie reiterates.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly after a brief pause.

“Of course, hermosa.”

“Why did you become a private investigator?”

The question catches Frankie off guard for a second time; you can tell by the subtle widening of his eyes followed by a brief knitting of his brows. Then he quickly hides his eyes behind the bill of his baseball cap, feigning stirring his coffee a couple times. Not used to being able to see his face when the two of you have conversations, you realized he's actually quite expressive. He must know it too, because you note his hidden eyes as something you'd seen him do the first time you met him.

“You don't have to tell me,” you extended a way out for him, noting his sudden discomfort.

“No, it's fine. Um, remember when I told you before how I moved on from being a pilot to this?” At your nod, Frankie continued on slowly, like he was forming each word in his head twice before speaking it. “Well, it was less that I moved on and more that I lost my license. Uh, addiction issues. I know how that sounds! But I swear I'm clean now and -”

You can sense Frankie spiraling, so you impulsively reach out and place one of your hands on his large one. “You don't have to plead your case with me, Frankie. I'm not judging you.”

Frankie freezes momentarily, then relaxes. You feel one of his long fingers twitch on the tabletop under yours and quickly remove your hand. There's a little sigh from him before he continues, “well, anyway, this was kinda just something that fell in my lap. My friend, Ironhead, works with enlisted still and heard it's pretty easy to get into if you have the background and patience for sittin’ around and waiting. Well, I had the experience with my past in Delta Force, figured the patients would come along as I go. Never did like surveillance gigs.”

The last sentence seems like an afterthought, but you catch the mild disdain in his voice and it makes you smile to see the man in front of you sounding so petulant. “Ok, but Ironhead is an interesting name,” you comment.

Frankie huffed a laugh. “His call-sign actually. Most of us had one on my squad.”

“Oh really? And what was yours?”

“Catfish,” Frankie responds immediately.

“Catfish?” You repeat. “Where did that one come from?” you laugh a little bit.

“And that's a story for a different day,” Frankie responds with a laugh of his own.

After another small pause, your eyes drift back down to the inconspicuous envelope sitting on the table in front of you. With another small smile and a nod, you reach for the envelope. “I better get going. Lots of errands to get through on my day off.” It's a lie, but you figure a swift exit is necessary in this moment.

Frankie nods, then shifts his hat to run a hand through his already messy curls. Hat back in place, he stands and gestures that he'll walk you out.

Back outside, in the bright afternoon sun, Frankie looks down at you as he walks you all the way to your car. His eyes are caramel again, but they hold a bit of something akin to sadness in them. He drops his head, those eyes disappearing behind the bill of his cap, and slides his hands into his pockets, shoulders curving inward. “I really am sorry,” he begins. “I had hoped it would be different this time. You deserve better than some cabrón who can't see that he already has something great right in front of him.”

Frankie sounds so sincere that it stops you short. You look up at him as he peeks from under his hat. His mouth is twisted into a frown under his mustache. And that's all it takes for your eyes to begin to fill with tears.

In an instant, Frankie's arms are around you. He doesn't hesitate to pull you into a loose hug. One you could easily step away from if you had the care to do so. Instead, you step forward and accept the comfort. In a second, his arms close around you tighter and you're wrapped in his warmth, face pressed into his brown jacket. Trying not to fall apart right here in the parking lot, you catalog how his arms feel around you, and how warm his chest is.

His jacket smells like an auto garage, faintly like oil, but his shirt underneath smells woodsy - probably whatever cologne he sprayed on this morning - and, underneath that, clean like fresh linen. It's a comforting scent, and you breathe it in for a second longer than probably necessary before you finally lean back. He drops his arms immediately and takes half a step back.

“I am so sorry,” you apologize instantly.

“No, don't be. You have no reason to be. Just, um, get home safe ok?” That worry line is present between his eyes again. “Text me when you get home.”

“I'll be ok,” you assure him. You climb into your car and allow him to close the door gently for you. He steps back and gives a tiny wave before he turns and walks over to his own truck.

The drive home is a bit of a blur. You call Erin and Ashley on the way to tell them the news. Erin is instantly in her car and on her way over. “We are gonna change the locks and have ourselves a movie night,” she proclaims.

Ashley frets over not being there, but you assure her you're okay and she should enjoy her vacation. You only called because she'd freak if you told Erin before her.

Erin gets to your house 30 minutes later with a box of cheap wine and a bag full of snacks. You talk her out of changing the locks, but it doesn't matter either way because when you text Andrew to tell him you're having a girls night he tells you he's going to be out late anyway and not to wait up.

Your heart drops the way it always does when you suspect a lie. This time, though, it's not just speculation. You have the proof right in front of you, in an unopened manila envelope partially covered in chip bags.

“So is that them?” Erin speaks, noticing your gaze on the offending envelope.

“I guess so. Pictures and proof of my husband's affair with some front desk girl at his office.” Your tone is mild, but you feel a pressure building behind your eyes once more and that crushing weight settling over your sternum.

“Have you looked yet?” Erin asked.

“Nope.”

“Are you gonna?”

“We can open them together,” you suggest.

But before she can answer, your phone beeps to alert you that you got a new text message.

Hey, bonita, is everything ok? You never texted me… You safe?

His words bring a small smile to your face. Frankie always has a way of making you feel like he truly cares. Checking in often, but never overstepping into being overbearing. It's a warm welcome compared to the icy breeze of you and your husband's cohabitation of the same home, but never really living together.

You type out, yes. Sorry. Erin insisted on a girls night, and hit send.

That's good. Did she bring the salsa verde doritos?

Your smile grows at the mention of your favorite chips. Of course he'd remember something as silly as that. Frankie had a knack for remembering little details. Things you sometimes even forgot to had ever mentioned he would bring up weeks later in a random conversation. It's probably just a Frankie Morales thing, but it still always made you feel just a little special that he remembered such details.

“What has you suddenly shining like the sun?” Erin questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you know you're blushing, but you try to play it cool. “Just Frankie checking in. Making sure you're taking care of me.”

“Um, of course I'm taking care of you! Who else is gonna do it?” Erin jokes, pushing your shoulder teasingly. “Unless Mr. Morales was trying to volunteer for the job?”

“He's just being kind,” you roll your eyes at Erin's implication. “He's been very supportive through this whole thing.”

“Supportive, huh? And what kind of support might he be offering?” In a swift motion your phone is suddenly in your best friends hands and she's danced off to the other side of the room. Ignoring your protests and attempts to claim back your property, she starts swiping through weeks of conversation between you and Frankie. “Holy shit! Have you two even stopped talking since you met?”

“Come on, Erin,” you beg, “he’s just been asking for more information for his investigation and making sure I'm okay.”

“Two days ago you told him about the goldfish you got in college that died within the week. Was that pertinent information to his investigation?”

Seizing an opportunity, you snatched your phone back, clutching it to your chest. “Shouldn't you be trying to cheer me up?”

“Looks like your new bestie Frankie should be here instead,” she snarks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh shut it and pour me some wine,” you reply with an exaggerated eye roll.

While your friend is busy you quickly type out a response to Frankie. She's pretty much the worst. Brought bbq instead even though she knows I hate them.

Frankie's reply is quick, or maybe that's why she brought them. So she wouldn't have to share with you, avara.

I don't know what you just called me, but I know I'm offended.

Frankie's reply is a long string of laughing emojis.

With the photos forgotten, you let Erin put on some 80’s movie and tried your best to enjoy the night. The envelope would still be there tomorrow, so for tonight you just relax.

It will probably be the last time you'll be able to in a while anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie hasn't heard from her in a few days. She doesn't text as often and it doesn't feel like his place to bother her.

Today, though, he woke up late after being out late on a surveillance job to a text from her. I'm kicking him out. I can't stand to live here with him anymore. I just want him gone and out of my life.

Squinting down at the bright screen if his phone, Frankie replies, is there anything I can do for you, bonita?

Recommend me a great divorce lawyer? Is her response. He knows it's sarcasm, but he shoots her a list of a few lawyers he knows of and trusts anyway.

Frankie was glad she wasn't going to stick around with the bastard. He'd seen that enough times to know it never works out anyway, and always makes things worse in the end.

You're amazing Frankie. Thank you for everything. I also have your payment in full btw. Do you have time this weekend to meet and grab it?

You really don't need to thank me, dulzura. I just want to help. This Sunday is good for me. At the café?

Her reply takes a little longer this time, so Frankie finally drags himself out of bed. A quick look at the time tells him he barely has time for a shower before he has to meet Ironhead and Benny for their planned fishing trip. Once Frankie is back, she had finally replied with a simple, yes.

She had rarely been short in her texts before, and it made Frankie's stomach sink a little. Shooting off a quick, let me know if there's anything you need, he pockets the phone and heads out.

A few more days pass with minimal texts. Frankie makes a point to text at least once a day. Maybe it's intrusive, but she never complains about it. And, if he's honest with himself, he misses her too much to stop now.

He realizes that she has become a fixture in his life. Going from texting multiple times throughout the day to barely a good morning text over his morning coffee makes him twitchy and he feels like he's always wondering what she's doing.

Sunday finally comes and Frankie is at the café ten minutes early, ready to finally see her in person. Ready to hold a conversation with her, even if only for a moment. But the ten minutes pass, then another ten and his leg starts to bounce under the table. She's never been late before, and Frankie checks his phone for a 20th time to make sure she hasn't texted to tell him she's had a change of plans. He decides to shoot her a text himself to make sure she didn't forget about their meeting.

Twenty more minutes with no response to his text and Frankie is back in his truck. He's already talked himself out of driving to her house and just knocking on the door several times. But as his truck rumbles to life and he exits the parking lot, he ends up turning left instead of right. Going to her house would be viewed as crossing some line in Frankie's eyes. He's never gone to a clients home without invitation before. Generally it's best to go about as if you don't even have that information, just to keep people from getting creeped out.

Frankie justifies his actions now by telling himself he just needs to see that she's okay. That her not showing up is abnormal and thus deserving of investigation.

When he pulls up to the curb across from her house, he notes the two cars in the driveway. His heart drops as he sees that one of them is her husband’s, parked neatly behind hers. Frankie knows she had told him she was kicking Andrew out, but his heart drops as he realizes maybe she had reconciled with him and he moved back. Frankie wonders if that's why she had been so distant lately.

He's about to just pull away when he notices the front door open and there she is. She has her arms full of boxes which she unceremoniously drops onto the sidewalk outside. She looks frazzled, but unharmed, Frankie takes a mental note. But she's yelling back into the house, her face red with anger.

Andrew shows himself in that moment, coming outside to scream something in her face. In the next moment, he's grabbing her roughly by the arm and trying to force her back into the house.

Frankie is out of his truck before he really has time to think. He's across the street and reaching them with quick, efficient steps in only a moment, which causes a pause in the fighting for a second. Frankie takes advantage of their confusion to gently pull her away from Andrew's loosened grip and moving her so that he is between the fighting couple.

Andrew, for his part, still has a look of surprise that has rendered him frozen in his spot. Whether that's from the way Frankie had barged into the situation or the pure anger that is radiating off Frankie's body, it's hard to say. But it gives Frankie the window he needs to pull back his fist and firmly plant it into Andrew's nose. Frankie hears the snap and feels the familiar give of a nose breaking under his knuckles.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he growls. “And I suggest not coming back around. Don't come near her, don't call her, don't even think about her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Andrew has run off, finally taking the remainder of his belongings with him, you're left alone with an angry Frankie, his fists still clenched and his shoulders tense.

Honestly, he's sexy as hell and you definitely notice. Anybody would be blind not to, you think to yourself.

You usher him inside, through to your kitchen, and pour two glasses of whiskey, sliding one over to him.

“I'm sorry I barged in,” Frankie apologizes after he takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn't hear from you today and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Shit, your money! I am so sorry.”

“It's fine, hermosa. I'm not worried about the money. I was worried about you.”

His declaration freezes both of you for a moment, before you lift your own cup to your lips and take a sizable sip.

“He was supposed to come by while I was out today, but he showed up early. I guess he's been trying to get ahold of me,” you finally break the silence.

“You guess?” Frankie repeats back.

“Well, I blocked his number cuz I got tired of his constant calls and texts. He thinks I'm being irrational and we should work this out. But I've also heard that he's been staying with his side piece ever since I kicked him out, so….”

Frankie shoots back the rest of his alcohol. “I can get you paperwork for a restraining order,” he offers.

You smile at that because of course Frankie would offer you more help. “I think you already did enough for me,” you reply.

Frankie's hand goes to the back of his neck and his head dips low, “I shouldn't have hit him. That's just gonna cause you more trouble.”

“Don't worry about that,” you chastise gently. “He got what was coming to him and he knows it. It's just that, you have done a lot for me in general these past few weeks. A lot more than I think I can pay you back for.” Speaking of which, you turn to your purse on the counter, digging through it to pull out the check written out to Frankie.

“Maybe you can pay me back with dinner,” Frankie aims for nonchalants.

It draws a breathy laugh from your throat. “It would take a lot of dinners to cover your fee.”

“Well, we could start with one and see where it goes from there.”

✨✨Part 2✨✨

#triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #pi!frankie #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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cqlfic · 3 years

Text

about

hello mtv and welcome to my crib 👋😊 i finally made an intro post! woohoo

this pinned post will serve as a site map/FAQ, so hopefully it can answer some basic questions about how i operate here on this blog - my askbox is open, so if you can’t find your answer/info here, shoot me a message! turnaround time varies a bit depending on your specific ask, but i try to get to asks within 2-3 weeks at most

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Do you take rec suggestions? absolutely yes! self recs included

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Who are you and why are you doing this??? hi i’m irena! and this rec blog was born out of my desire to organize my frankly-unmanageable amount of bookmarks - feel free to follow my main @scaredy-cot, but word of warning: it’s kind of a mess over there 😂😎🔥

COMMON TAGS

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for my recs themselves, i split between #ao3 for recs from AO3, for the untamed or mdzs; and #not ao3 for recs not from AO3, which can be further divided into following categories:

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relationship and author tags can be found on my tags page, though it’s no longer being regularly updated; basic format is “a:[author]” and “r:[relationship]”, if you want to do your own search here. also, i don’t typically tag my rec posts with further tags on genre, AU, etc. -- AO3 has a good search/filter system, so i’ll slip to that if i need to find particular works!

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

updated 2021-06-09

#info #my commentary #about me #faq #!!!#hi everyone old and new and in-between i love u all

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #harringrove heart-on #harringrove heart on #stranger things

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years

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Hi Days! I'm a huge fan of your work and your tumblr blog bc you give so many naruhina fanfic recs and talk about your stories, etc.

To sum it up, you're my favorite person lol, I'm a bit shy so I'm asking this as an anon, but I wanted to tell you something random just because I've always just thought about it and maybe you would agree or comment on it.

Have you ever listened to mitski? If you haven't I recomend you do bc she's amazing, but anyways I was listening to a song of hers called "washing machine heart" and it reminded me of naruhina, like the fic "together you and I" but different you know, like naruto only married hinata because he couldn't have sakura, she was his second option and every time he looked at her he wished and pretended it was Sakura, so Hina tries her hardest to look pretty and try to be the person he wants, always getting saddend by the idea that she isn't the one he wants, she knows his heart will only belong to Sakura. She let's him trample all over her heart and use her because she loves him unconditionally, maybe cry to her on some nights because he longs for Sakura's love that will never come.

I've read so many fanfics and I've never encountered one using this concept, I'd write it myself, but I'm not good at writing, maybe I'm reaching but it could inspire an angst story made by you or just a prompt or idea/concept for anyone to use. The hurt in this could be inmaculate and I bet a good writer could bring everyone to tears if they read a story like this. You don't have to do anything ofc I'll love you either way, I'm not meaning to push you to write a whole story with this concept by any means or to even post this ask, it's just something I made up/ related to this certain song, so I wanted you to see it, perhaps share your opinion or thoughts on it or just think about it. I love pain a lot hahaha bc I'm not a narusaku shipper in any way, I actually dislike the ship a lot.

Thank you for reading this and pls keep up the awesome work!! I'll always be a fan and support you and your spectacular writing❤️❤️

GAH What an awful fic idea you have 💔

“The Ring that Binds” by softwind - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto and Hinata are married. So why is Naruto calling “Sakura” in his sleep?

“Girl No 10″ by meeiwen - Rated M, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto makes a mistake with a dancer one drunk night. Years later when he meets her again, he begins realizing his perfect life is a lie, but he’s too late to fix it.

And

“Territorial” by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated M, High school AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When Hinata takes advantage of Naruto’s desperation for love, they’re both a little too much for the other to handle.

Are similar to what you have there.

HERE’S MY VERY QUICK AND INCOMPLETE STAB AT YOUR PROMPT IT’S UNEDITED UNREVISED CANON-DIVERGENT AU RATED T FOR LANGUAGE BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE WHAT I COULD COME UP WITH 😘 THEY ARE NOT MARRIED BECAUSE I WOULD BE TOO SAD

...

Naruto finally makes it to the Hokage’s office, having had trouble shaking off fangirls on his way. He can immediately tell he’s the last one there, even though it’s the eve of the Rinnegan Festival. Tense expressions greet him, the atmosphere somber.

Sakura whips her attention back to the desk before them. “Rokudaime, with all due respect, I don’t think Naruto belongs on this mission.”

Her behavior has confused him all night. First moving away from him so that Hinata would sit between them at Ichiraku when Hinata could have just sat on the other side of him. Then pushing him to follow Hinata back home. He said aloud that he’d be seeing her later, and that he wanted to catch up with everyone first, but Sakura just glared at him...

She’s been pushing him away, more and more every day, breaking his heart to smaller and smaller pieces...whether knowingly or not, he’s not sure about that, but she’s never rejected him from being her teammate on a mission.

Worried, he meets Kakashi’s gaze.

“I understand your concern, Sakura.” His tone is heavy. His usual careless attitude nowhere in sight. “Call it just my gut-feeling...you’re going to need Naruto’s strength for this mission.”

Hanabi was kidnapped.

Hiashi and Hinata are nowhere to be found.

“What do you mean...?” Naruto finds himself asking. “I just saw her. We just saw her. Not even an hour ago.”

“When Sai reported Hanabi’s kidnapping, believe me, Naruto, we moved to notify her family immediately. Anbu can’t find them.”

“What?” The last memory he has of Hinata abruptly leaving dinner and running off without hardly a word nags at him, inexplicably tightening his chest. “She’s fine. Hinata’s strong. She can take on anybody. No one would dare-”

“Naruto,” Sakura interrupts, her gaze cutting sharp. “She’s nowhere to be found. And as much as you believe that, no one is invincible. Not even Hinata. We need to form a plan, otherwise we’re losing precious time.”

“No one is invincible. Not even Hinata.”

An emptying numbness invades his insides, discomforting slickness muting him.

This isn’t his fault, is it?

What if she needed to tell him something?

She was acting strange at Ichiraku.

Quiet, unusual for her as of recent...

But how was he supposed to notice? Should he have followed after her, like Sakura said? But they were supposed to meet at his apartment later on anyway, so why did she have to come out early like that and ruin the good time he was having? She knows how he hasn’t given up on Sakura.

She knows everything about him. She’s been his rock after Sakura tried to shut him down for good. So how can it be that she’d just disappear? There’s no way.

There’s just no way that she disappeared right after she left...

Hours.

Hours of wandering around in abandoned, desolate, war-stricken villages in god-knows-where, and nothing. No one.

He’s asking for the hundredth time, but he doesn’t care, he’s past the point of desperation, and anxiety-laced tension fills the air. “Taku, you really don’t see anything?!” The Hyuuga they have on their team led them into this godforsaken wasteland.

Taku turns on him aggressively, getting in his face in reaction, and yells, “What about you?? You think I’m not trying my best?! This is my family! Just because you’re Hinata’s boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re any more worried than the rest of us! You don’t sense her??”

No. He doesn’t.

His Sage Mode has never been so useless. In fact, he senses no one besides them in this place, and it’s with terrible unease that he begins to entertain the thought that she’s gone for good.

“There’s no one even here besides us! Nothing! Why’d you take us down here? Where are we even?! How do we get out of here in the first place?!” he argues back.

“Sakura-san was right! You don’t belong on this mission! I don’t know what Hinata-sama could ever see in you, I haven’t seen her smile in months!”

“What do you mean by that?! She smiles all the time! I’ve never seen her act so cheerful in my life!”

“So you fucking know it, too!” Taku glares at him with an incredulous expression. “That she’s just acting!”

“What the hell do you mean by that-”

And he doesn’t know what happened next, but Sai’s grabbing onto Taku and he himself is locked in Shikamaru’s shadow manipulation. Chakra’s sparking off his own hands, while blue embers warp along Taku’s.

“Calm down,” Shikamaru orders both of them. “We’re not getting anywhere if the two of you keep fighting.” He waits for Taku to loosen his stance.

Sai lets go of him.

Taku throws an insulting glare around before sauntering off.

Shikamaru sighs. Hard. “Go cool your head, Naruto.” He retracts his shadow, and Naruto wastes no time walking off in the opposite direction, far from wherever Taku is heading.

Yet Taku’s ridiculous words ring in his head. “That she’s just acting.”

But she said that she’s happy to be with him. That she doesn’t mind that he’s still in love with Sakura. She said that she’s just happy to be with him.

She said that. She did. And she wouldn’t lie to him, right?

She was just acting?

“You’re not going to finish your ramen?” he asked her on their date last month.

“No...” Suddenly, she smiled brightly, something she’s been doing more often ever since he mentioned that he’s always liked how genki Sakura is. “Do you want the rest of mine? I’m dieting.”

He scrunched his eyebrows at her. “Dieting? Why?”

“Well...” She looked thoughtful for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Naruto-kun, you like thin girls, right?”

He knew she was talking about Sakura. “...I guess...”

“I want to make you happy,...” she started. She bit her lips for a hesitating moment before continuing, “so I’ve been trying to lose a little weight.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to make of that. Unbidden, he looked her over.

“Can you tell?” she asked, her characteristic shyness lowered her lashes, yet she didn’t fidget under his examination, and he could tell how she was trying her best to have that confident persona he admires in his former teammate.

Despite her recent changes in attitude, Hinata’s still been so physically small compared to himself and everyone else. Under her jacket, he couldn’t tell if she looked skinnier or not, and even if she was, he doesn’t think she really needed to be skinnier.

But then she looked up at him with that heavy, hopeful weight in her gaze, and he couldn’t let her down. Not when she’s trying so hard for his approval.

He fibbed easily. “Yeah. You look really good.”

She shined another smile at him that made him feel good. Even if their relationship wasn’t traditional, he could at least still make her happy. He could at least tell her some sweet words and see her sweet smile and-

She was lying.

She wasn’t happy?

He never made her happy?

Then what was the point of any of it?

No, she must have been happy, right?! She said so! She told him so! Many, many times!

After all, he asked her. All of those times he thought she was faking her smile, he asked just to make sure, and she vehemently told him that she was really happy to be with him.

She said he could talk to her about all of it. That she could take on his heartbreak because her feelings were so much bigger than...

“Uzumaki Naruto.”

The unfamiliar voice has him leaping to his feet.

A man as pale as a ghost with piercingly icy eyes is floating down to him on some strange platform. “You’re really as pitiful as I expected.”

“Who the hell are you?!” He readies his stance. He’s not in any mood for games, and he’s ready to let loose some of his stress on this very suspicious character.

“Hinata’s fiance.”

“Hinata?!” Fire races through his veins, heating his feet, and he’s ready to leap at this guy. “Where is she?!”

“With me.”

His heart rate exponentially explodes, beating into his ears, his skin practically bristling. “Let her go,” he demands, and the threat of his words leaks from every pore of his being. “Now.”

The man almost snorts. “What makes you think she wants to see you? You only ever used her, broke her...” His collected expression hardens, and Naruto can sense that he has no intention of releasing her. “I’ll make her happier than you ever could.”

Several thoughts fly too quickly through his mind to properly process any of it, leaving only residual uncertainty and that deepening sense of his culpability in her sudden disappearance. But he doesn’t linger on the unpleasant sensations. “What the fuck do you know?!” And he’s charging at him, a Rasengan heavy in his hand.

The enemy is far more powerful than he appeared, immediately blowing him back with some kind of focused chakra. “Weak, pathetic.”

“GIVE HER BACK!” He replicates himself a dozen times, each of them throwing Rasenshurikens at the man.

Yet more of that strange yellow chakra protects him. He’s unscathed even under his shadow clone onslaught. “No. I gave her a choice, and she came with me. I’m just here to get rid of you, take revenge against you for her sake.”

He hardly comprehends the nonsense spewing out of the enemy’s mouth, and he rallies his clones into close combat, but the man manages to avoid many of the attacks while landing hits of his own.

Clones poofing away only to be replaced by more, frustration and fury starting to blind him into sloppier and sloppier moves.

“I love Hinata. That’s why I deserve her.”

He chokes on his own breath, and in his momentary loss of concentration,...

He’s falling.

------------------------*

aaannnnd that’s as far as I want to go with that. Imagine the rest of the team arriving in time to notice Toneri making his escape toward the sky, and I guess the rest of the story would sort of follow the rest of The Last...Naruto self-reflects a lot in a bundle of depression for a long time and yeah.

...ahhh... I encourage you to write the fic you want to see in the world ❤️

#anon #thank you for thinking i could do your fic idea justice #but in the end 😅 i'm sorry that this is a letdown #i'm not much one for angst you know #who wrote white lilies not me #thank you for laying the praise on thick 🥺 don't know if i'm deserving #thank you for reading!

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