#sorry if it sounds a bit condescending I wrote the post for like... what would have helped me to hear when I was just starting out

[deoidesign]

Hello I stumbled across your profile and I just say I love your art style! I've gotta ask, how'd your develop it? And do you have any advice for someone who can't decide what they want their art to look like?

Thank you so much!

To be entirely honest, I don't feel like I truly "developed" my style. I feel a lot more like I finally let myself draw it! But I am incredibly deliberate with my work, and I do have clear tendencies and preferences... So I'll do my best to explain how I got to where I am now as an artist.

It's important to remember that "style" is something of a nebulous concept. It changes with you as you grow as a person, and most artists can work in and emulate many art styles! Art really is a form of communication with yourself, and your "style" is a reflection of the tendencies and preferences you have. My art does not look how it looked 5 years ago, and my art will look different 5 years from now too. I've changed, and my art reflects that!

(2012, 2018, 2023; two pieces I remember being incredibly proud of and considered my best work up til that point, and then my most recent piece)

What you need to do, as everyone will tell you, is study the fundamentals (anatomy, perspective, form and structure, lighting and shadow, color, and composition) so you have the proper tools to make the most informed decisions possible about your art, and so you can deliberately break or follow rules as you please for your desired effect. I know it sounds silly to learn rules if you're not gonna be following them anyways, but they help you be much more consistent and intentional! More knowledge is NEVER a bad thing to have!

However, I know it's a bit demoralizing to just be told to study fundamentals. Everyone knows you're supposed to do that, but it takes YEARS to learn, and people want their art to feel how they want it to now (which is very very very normal to want!)

So on that front, I have 2 follow up suggestions that I personally find helpful (of course, everyone is different, so it's not like this is the only way to learn! But, if it resonates with you, it might mean it will work for you too.)

1: Separate study from application

I believe this is beneficial for a few reasons:

If the goal of every piece is learning, it can become frustrating, overwhelming, and boring

It's harder to self critique when there are multiple variables to investigate. I like to study one fundamental at a time

Study (usually) works best with a large quantity of output, whereas application of knowledge (finished pieces) is often more satisfying and effective when you get to take your time

Deliberate practical application of what you've learned in a finished piece helps cement the learning in your mind, and also lets you get satisfying finished pieces with noticeable improvement after a good study session!

I've found that keeping these things separate helps me improve faster and more deliberately, and it takes a lot of the pressure off of both aspects! I'm not worried about my studies looking beautiful, they're just to learn! And I don't feel pressured to critique my finished pieces, cause they're just for fun and to make something pretty. I personally find this helps me have a much healthier relationship with my art.

When studying, copy! Copy things as best as you can, all the time. It gives you something to compare to for self critique (and of course, if you're copying someone else's work and you share the study, ALWAYS give credit, share the original, and say it was for study.) In application, don't copy: reference. Make it yours!

2: Let yourself do the things that feel "easy" or like "cheating"

This one is simpler: nothing in art is easy.

If something feels easy to you, most of the time it's not because it's actually any easier... It's because it's part of your natural tendencies and preferences! This took me forever to realize, but as long as you're actually doing some study, then you're learning. You don't need to learn All The Time. When you're doing the "application" portion, you should let yourself do whatever is actually the most fun and feels easiest! This is where your style will start to come through, and where you get to learn about yourself. Take the pressure off, and have fun!!!

The only cheating in art is theft. If you're not stealing, then it's allowed!

My whole life (and yes, still!) I'd get regular criticism about both my style and my subject matter. You will too. You'll see a thousand different styles, and a hundred different things to admire in each. Your heart will ache that you don't draw like others do.

But art is a form of communication with yourself. It's like your voice, or your accent; just something that's a part of you! It can be fun to mimic others', but when you sit to have a conversation you speak naturally. (I know some people want to and do change their voice, but this is a metaphor and metaphors aren't perfect)

Don't stress so much about what you want your art to look like, especially if you're not sure. There's a lot of value to be had in constant experimentation, I think it'd be rather boring to only draw one style the rest of my life. What I draw is what I want to see, right now, for who I am now! It's a part of me and comes naturally, if I let it!

I hope this helps!

[frekydeki]

Hi before i say my request ur ac is so good n i love it so muchhh

May i request where bakugou date us out of bet but u know the drill he fell in love then we found out n reader just cant find anything to forgive him :) oh n oneshot :) thank youu ✨✨

A/n | Thank you so much dearest! I’m sorry it took me so long to post this, but I hope this was worth the wait... It’s very angsty and has a slightly toxic Bakugo in it. But this was such a wonderful idea though, really just had me gasping at every word I wrote hahha. XOXO darling

Summary | Bakugo Katsuki is the man of your dreams; handsome, smart, a little bit of a jerk. When he approached you and asked you out on a date, it was almost too much to believe... Still, you did, so you get to suffer the consequences

Pairing | College AU Bakugo x Reader

Warnings | Mentions of cheating, also a very toxic situation

Part 2

Masterlist

It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff. When you look down and you see the fall, that thought slithers into your mind:

“If I take just one step forward, I could die.”

Wholly unwelcome, you push it away and reason that it’s not actually what you think… It’s just another useless thought that comes across your mind. You’re not sure why it does, and no matter how hard you try and push it to the back of your mind, you’re aware of it the whole time. Breathing down your shoulder, hot breath throwing a shudder over your body, that thought has you tossing your weight from foot to foot and one breath too short. It’s just like standing at a cliff when you look into these violet eyes, the one thought invades your mind:

“If I hadn’t come along, they would be together.”

You can barely hear her talking over the loud music playing in the dirty house; in the living room there’s just a couch, tv, and coffee table, but it still feels so cluttered. It’s all the people packed in here, accidentally elbowing each other and standing inches apart. The airs hot, humid, and full of stupid decisions. Tonight isn’t a night you want to be out – you have an exam early in the morning and want to turn in at a decent time – but you’re here anyways.

“One of the things I love the most about him is that he’s so damn determined!” She coos in her silky voice, a knowing and condescending look sparking in her violet eyes while staring steadily at you. Her gaze finally shifts away from you and turns to the subject of the conversation. You follow suit, looking at the one thing the two of you having in common: Bakugo Katsuki. Aside from you being his partner, and her being his best friend, you two have no business having a conversation, let alone knowing each other exist. You try to put a smile to your lips, but you find it hard to do so. Rei’s the type of woman to make others truly believe they are less than her. She has a way of talking, a way of smiling at you while telling you you’re less than dirt… Passive aggressive, the type of girl to hide a knife behind her back, a bitch that no one dares to call out.

“Yeah…” You softly respond. Even if she is the worst of the worst to you, you like to play nice for Katsuki’s sake. He’s never taken lightly to you expressing your distaste for having to be around her, so you’ve just decided to suck it up and deal… It makes sense that he’d be upset with you since they’ve been best friends since they were five. You eye her lavender hair out of the corner of your eye and bite your lip. In a million years you’d never describe yourself as jealous… But something about Rei puts you on edge.

“When him and I were young,” Maybe it’s because she always rubs it in your face that she’s known him longer, “We would always place bets with each other… Our relationship is built off of competition.” Or maybe it’s because she makes it sound like they are more than what they are. Everything is always theirs, it’s always her and Katsuki, and she makes sure to say it loud enough that you hear it every time she says it. Glancing away from her you force out the short and irritated breath in your chest before taking a quick drink of your water; Rei already got on your ass about being a kill joy and not having alcohol. You’ve got goals, though, so you’re not pouring it down the drain with her.

“He always wins them, though.” She steps closer to you, finally noticing the little bit of distance you’ve been slyly putting between the two of you for the duration of your conversation. You clench your jaw and roll your eyes. She can’t take a fucking hint either! “Sometimes we still make them now and then.” You nod and purse your lips. “I’m glad.” You mumble to her and glare at Katsuki again; why the hell do you have to talk to her when she’s his best friend? Can’t he come over here and take over the conversation so you can hide away?

“Did he tell you about our most recent ones?” Her tone, sly and cunning, has you tapping your fingers on your cup. You shake your head and chuckle dryly.

“We’re still working through the ones from a while ago…” She giggles and puts a hand on your shoulder, her short hair tapping against her jawline.

“I’ll tell you about it!” She’s clinging onto your arm like you are best friends or something, her breath reeking of alcohol. Katsuki catches your eye from across the room and sees the uncomfortable and irritated look settling on your features. He begins stepping away from Kirishima with a laugh lighting up his gorgeous features. “It was about four months ago…” She hums while thinking and pressing her finger to her chin with an exaggerated expression, “Right about when you and Katsuki started dating.” You raise your eyebrow and look down to her.

“Yeah?” You question. She nods.

“Yup! He-“ She stops short as she takes note of Katsuki’s strong and tall frame taking a spot in front of the two of you. “Katsuki!” She beams to him, finally releasing her hold on your arm. The blond holds his hand out to you, which you take – even if you’re mad at him for dragging you out – and he smiles down to you sweetly.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks you.

“She was telling me about bets.” His expression washes clean. In his cerulean eyes, you note a hint of horror that pulls down on his brow, causing them to pinch in the middle.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes flick quickly to Rei, an unreadable message in his eye. His stare is hard, and his mouth in a thin line. She returns his unenthused look before grinning at him. Your stomach twists with that all too familiar thought and jealousy; is there something going on here that you don’t know about? “I hope Rei isn’t getting ahead of herself.” He growls lowly, a warning clear in his tone and hard expression. She surrenders her hands quickly and laughs sweetly.

“I thought it was time to finally break the ice! I mean, I feel terrible hiding th-“

“We’re leaving.” Katsuki says – more like commands – while turning and pulling at your arm gently. You stumble after him.

“Katsuki? Is everything okay?” You hear him smack his lips as he throws open the screen door and walks into the humid night. Summer runs sweetly in the air, warmly pressing against your exposed skin, and rinsing away the stress of being cramped in that sweaty, hot air in the house with a gentle breeze.

“Yeah…” He softly answers. “I just want to get you home so you can get some rest before your exam in the morning.” Your stomach runs over with butterflies, finding his consideration all too endearing.

“Running away, Katsuki?” Rei’s familiar voice calls across the lawn before laughing and adding, “That’s out of character.” There are only a few people standing outside in the cold night air, and they share curious glances with each other as they watch her descend the stairs and meander toward your retreating forms. Run away? What does she mean by that? You watch her from over your shoulder, finding it a little weird that Katsuki won’t even say bye to her… “Do you think you can hide it forever?” You let out a slight whimper when you run into Katsuki’s strong back. You look up to him as he turns around to grumble at him for stopping so suddenly. He strongly pulls you to his side, wraps his arm around your waist, and gives Rei one terrifying expression. His caramel scent wafts to you over the wind, comforting you as you lean into his hold and then bring your eyes to Rei. To your discomfort, her gaze is solely on you.

“Y/n, did you know he confessed to me before?” You inhale sharply, feeling your stomach jump up ready to plead a patched together case of hurt, confusion, and anger, You clench your jaw shut and close your eyes lightly; you kind of know already… You could tell that there was something more in the way they look at each other… Recently you started to convince yourself – or rather Katsuki began to change around you, making you feel more secure – that Katsuki truly wanted to be with you, and Rei was just his best friend.

“That was a long time ago, Rei.” Katsuki growls, his hand pulling you closer. His breath tickles across your cheeks as he turns his attention to you and lightly pushes you away from him, only far enough that he could look you in the eye. “It was a long time ago. You know how I feel about you. I’m with you, not her-“

“It was three months ago… Katsuki.” A look of shock crinkles across Bakugo’s face. With your mind running blank, you stare up at your boyfriend, not able to say or do anything. Only three months… Three months; one month after you’d started dating. Suddenly your aware of all the onlooking faces, looking at the three of you like you’re some drama show.

“Y/n, she’s lying…” He says in an uncharacteristically soft voice. Your wide eyes look up to him. His hands are still tight on your shoulders, and the cold wind hollowing out your body… Rei scoffs at the two of you while beginning to near you again.

“I have the text messages, if you want to see them, Y/n.” Rei sighs as she walks closer, wiggling her phone in her hand like she’s baiting you. Pulling yourself from his delicate grip, you turn your attention to Rei with a stone hard expression on your face; why is she spilling all of this to you now? Bakugo’s desperate red eyes remain on you before he exhales a frustrated sigh and addresses Rei himself.

“You’re crossing the line, Rei.” The blond lowly states. She throws her head back in a loud laugh, almost as if she’s trying to make a show of what’s happening, getting everyone to look at you with what you can only call pity.

“Don’t you think you’re taking the joke too far?” She questions as she sobers and wipes the corner of her eye. “You won the bet… It’s time to come clean.” Her tone is scary, low, demanding, and threatening. You glance to your boyfriend.

“What is she talking about?” Your voice is thin and sharp, like a knife held to his throat. Your flimsy gaze shows a pinch of defense as you demand answers from him, but you’re still entirely vulnerable to whatever Katsuki says or does.

“Nothing.” His ruby eyes remain locked onto Rei’s own violet eyes, his head only slightly turning to you when he speaks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you, you poor thin-“

“Shut the fuck up, Rei!” His hands clench at his sides. You flinch at his outburst and try to swallow the burning starting to radiate throughout your chest… There’s a look that is passing between these two – the same one from before – and it makes you feel like you’re the only soul out of the loop, like you’re caught in the middle of war you have nothing to do with.

“Hey!” Your attentions turn to the soft voiced Kirishima hesitantly sliding to a step between the two, his arms held out and a very small smile on his lips. Breathlessly, he continues,“Hey… Maybe we keep the fighting away from the festivities, yeah?”

“Fighting?” Rei laughs. “Is that what we’re doing? I’m just desperately trying to save my dear friend Y/n from a sleaze of a boyfriend.”

“Sleaze?” Bakugo hisses. “You want to say that again-“ “Listen! I don’t really think Y/n wants to be in the middle of this bicker between you two, so maybe just save it for later.” Kirishima tries to reason, his reassuring red eyes sparing you glances overflowing with pity. Such a look of shame pulls his features down when he looks at you: the pinch in his brow shows that he’s trying to hide it from you though. It puts a heavy weight into your stomach… You just want to go home right now. You’re not meant for the party life, and you sure as hell don’t want to be mixed up in whatever is happening between these two right now.

“Y/n isn’t just stuck in the middle! They’re the whole reason for this!” Rei yells, her anger spewing out of her eyes with an annoyed look piercing at you.

“What did I do?” You question quickly. Katsuki’s hand tightens on your waist as he turns his eyes to acknowledge your trembling form at his side.

“Nothing.”

“How long did you think you were going to get away with it, Bakugo?” Rei’s eyes narrow as she shakes her head at him. “Did you think they’d just forgive you when they found out?”

“What is it? What the hell are you talking about Rei?” You interject in frustration.

“The bet!”

“We already talked about this Rei, I called it off.” Bakugo growls, but Kirishima begins speaking over him.

“This really is not the place for this, Rei, Bakugo. Not right now.” Kirishima warns lowly and desperately. Are you the only one that’s not in the loop right now? Even Kirishima seems to know what’s happening. Your discomfort is overshadowed by the frustration welling in your stomach and chest; if you’re at the center of the problem the you should probably know what they hell they’re talking about, huh?

“Please tell me what the fuck you guys are talking about!”

“You don’t need to know.” Katsuki’s strained voice says as he begins to push you toward the car again.

“What do you mean I don’t need to know? You confessed to her a month after we started dating, don’t you think I get to know what the fuck she’s talking about?” You cry as you yank his arm off your own, he takes a few steps further before turning to you. His annoyed gaze is now set on you.

“I told you that it was a long time ago.” He nears you again, “Am I not in a relationship with you? Aren’t I your boyfriend?” You shrink slightly in the look on his face. He stands with a deep glower, his nostrils flaring, and eyes reddening.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Rei rolls her eyes. “Katsuki confessed to me and I told him that if he dated you for a month then I’d date him!” Rei shouts. The crowd that’s gathered gasps.

“Don’t you have any fucking taste, Rei?” Kirishima growls, anger flashing onto his soft face; it’s an unnatural expression for him. Katsuki’s chest begins to rise and fall heavily as he takes in your face. Tears blur your vision and you can feel the frown on your mouth, the rush of a disappointment strangling your throat. A bet to date you?

“I was really into it at first. Seeing him cuddle up to you was hilarious, only for him to turn around and try to fuck me in the next room over with you completely oblivious to it at all…” Your head falls with a sob, bordering on a laugh. You work out the twisting in your chest with gritted teeth.

You thought it was weird for him to suddenly ask you out after never showing interest in you beyond friendly conversation… But you had a crush on him for a few years and you were over the moon that someone like him could like someone like you. Accepting him, you never allowed yourself to second guess it, scared to find out if it was really true… A bitter laugh comes from you as you wipe the few tears that escaped you from your cheeks:

You fucking knew it.

“Y/n…” Katsuki breathes weakly. What the hell can he have to say? What kind of excuse is he going to try and give you? Does he think you’re stupid?

Well… You are. You’re the stupid one here, and everyone is going to end up pointing their finger at you and laughing. But right now, they’re all gravely silent, watching you with hands over mouths and whispers on their lips.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You quietly question. He silent for a little bit, his weight shifting from foot to foot, and hand tearing to push his blond hair back.

“No.” He curtly answers. “Listen, it started out like that but that’s not how it is for me anymore!” You smile bitterly at him, but it’s quivering with the heartbreak shuddering through you. “I really like you, Y/n.

“You said that to me four months ago, and it wasn’t true then. Why the fuck would I believe that it could be anything different this time?” You spit as you storm around him, pulling up the first number that you could think of.

“Are you just going to ignore everything that I did for you?” Katsuki yells, following you as you try and retreat from all the eyes gawking at you. The music from the house still pours outside, the faint sound of voices and laughter echoing in the silent night. “I know it’s shitty, I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry! But you know what? It’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me!” God, is this man yelling at you or pleading with you? His eyebrows are sharp in anger, but eyes wet with hurt and fear, and mouth downturned with defensive trepidation.

“Oh, is it now?” You mock, putting the phone to your ear.

“Yes, it is! I met the most amazing person, I got to find the love of my life-“ “Is this how little you think of me?” You whip around to glare at him. “You think that if you say some sweet words to me after using me, going behind my back to fuck Rei, and lying to me I’ll just forgive you? You think I’m that desperate?”

“Hello?” Comes through your phone, barely audible over the music on their side.

“Todoroki, please take me home.” You curtly say, turning away from the fuming blonde. You know he doesn’t like Todoroki one bit, but you couldn’t give a single less fuck about that; you just want to get the hell away from him, and Todoroki is the only one here that you want to do it.

Your eyes dart to the helplessly watching Kirishima. If he knew, then Denki, Mina, and Sero all knew too. They were aware that you were being tricked, and they didn’t do a damn thing to help you. You wonder if they find it as funny and entertaining as Rei and Bakugo did. You don’t want anything to do with anyone like them; someone who can call themselves your friends and then trick you for a good time.

“What? Why?” There’s a slight sense of alarm in his tone. You hear Midoriya inquiring about you.

“Please, Todoroki.” You plead with him, voice whining and pulling at every string in his heart. Bakugo stops behind you and sneers down at you.

“You’re going to go home with that idiot?” He growls.

“What? Do you expect me to leave with you?”

“I’m your fucking boyfriend! So, yeah, I do!”

“No, you’re not, Katsuki!” You cry, pushing him back with your hand – more like you smack him because you don’t even phase him at all – and sobbing, “We’re done! Do you hear me? We’re done!” You sober yourself, careful to only to let  your anger show with barred teeth and passionate glare at the blonde trailing you toward Todoroki’s car.

“Like hell we are! I never touched Rei once!”

“Then what was New Years?” Rei interjects while she picks at her nails with a bored expression on her. Your body quakes with another sob, but you manage to quell it through a clenched jaw; New Year’s night Bakugo left early, saying that he had to go help his mother since her arm was broken from an accident… You believed him with your whole heart. But he was out railing Rei…

“Todoroki please.” You beg.

“Okay! I’m coming!”

“Please, Y/n.” Bakugo runs his hand through his messy blonde hair and sucks in a breath through bared teeth. “Listen to me! I can’t lose you, please just believe me when I say that I love you. I love you. I fell in love with you so damn hard…” His hand hesitantly grabs your wrist, turning you to him, his legs quaking beneath him, but jaw clenched. “I’m so sorry. But Y/n I can’t live without you.” When he brings in a breath, it sounds close to a whine, “Stay.” He lets it out in a whisper. You feel Todoroki’s hand on your lower back before you catch sight of Rei behind Bakugo. Shaking your head, you pull your wrist from Katsuki’s feather-light hold.

“I can’t.”

“Let’s go, Y/n.” Todoroki’s gentle and warm voice draws you from the chaotic man before you; they really are complete opposites. His heterochromatic eyes close slightly with the warm smile he offers to you, before he directs a hard glare to Bakugo… You know Todoroki has liked you for a year now – you’ve always been careful not to abuse that – but right now he’s the only thing that can ground you from the chaos you’re currently in the middle of. You let him put himself between you and your ex-boyfriend and guide you the rest of the way to his car.

“Please! Forgive m-“

You cut him off by slamming the car door shut and glaring up to him, “No. I can’t… Not this, Katsuki.”

“I really love you.” He says, hoping that maybe this time you’ll believe him… He’ll say it however many times you tell him to, as long as you’ll just fucking believe him. “Please believe me.” He leans outside the window, his eyes shutting as he hears the car roar to life. “You’re a liar, Katsuki.” At the pleading look in your eye, Katsuki finds himself stepping back from the car. The look in your eyes – the color in them deepened with a pleading sincerity – made Katsuki’s heart turn in on himself; he did that to you… He roughly scrapes his hand across his cheeks and wet eyes.

Watching the taillights disappear down the street, music still floating out of the house's windows, Katsuki grinds out, in a raspy voice, “And you’re a fucking thief.

Taglist: @zeyyackerman, @chibiiichann

| Next

[oneirataxiahiraeth]

Room Thief

Pairings : avenger!reader x PeterParker

Warnings : swearing, dramatic reader, smut, oral (fem. & male), praise kink, unprotected sex, Peter being cute, fluff

Inspiration: That one episode from bobs burgers where Linda started an Airbnb and rented Louise’ room to Teddy.

The “oh hi, Louise 🙂” “oh hi, mom🤨” audio on tiktok.

A/N :

I wrote this toms birthday... did I post it on toms birthday? No... but it’s the thought that counts amirite?

I allowed myself to stop for a moment, taking in the word glares I was receiving from the rest of the team. Everyone just sat around, staring at me way too intensely as I walked into the compound. It was as if they were waiting for me to do or say something. Like I was supposed to say something.

  "Are you guys okay?" I asked slowly, watching as multiple stared broke away from me. Like they just couldn't help but not take there eyes off of me at first. "You seem a bit.. off."

  "Oh uh, no, we're good, Sorry." Pepper cleared her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from me. Did I have something on my face? I never got so many stares from so many people before. Not even when I looked my worst. Not even when I looked my absolute best. I hitch was a bit insulting now that I think about it.

  "Uhm... alright?" I sigh, eyes scanning over the group. Peter invited me out to breakfast this morning and just never showed up. I assumed he just slept in on accident, probably due to the amount of hours he spent patrolling the streets over the past few days. I would've went out to help last night, but MJ said she really needed my help with something so I spent all night with her. Strangely enough, all we did was talk about an existential crisis one of the characters were going through in the masters book shes read. "I'm going to go change."

   "You mean like... in your room?" Tony cleared his throat. There was no sarcasm in his voice, just pure concern for me being in my room.z

  "Where else would I- are you sure you guys are alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine." Steve cleared his throat, sending Tony a mean glare as if he's done something wrong. "You know, you should really stay down here with us for a while, y/n. We haven't talked to you in like... forever. Don't be stiff."

   "Did you just use modern day slang? You know what, uhm, yeah sure, whatever. Just let me change really quick, and I'll be right down... to talk." I spoke again, noting the weird behavior.

  "Wait, no!" Vision stood, quickly from the couch. He seemed out of it for second, before regaining his natural sense of calm. "I mean, wait." He rephrased. "I think you should let Wanda style your outfit for the day. In her room." He smiled, it seemed sweet yet condescending. A scary look he could not pull off at all.

  "Why?" I asked, Wanda standing up next to her boyfriend.

  "Because your wardrobe sucks!" Her accent making her words sound a bit harsher. My mouth dropped a little, eyebrows furrowing at the confession. "Pretend that I said that a little bit nicer." She cringed at the own harshness of her tone.

  "Uhm, yeah, ok... I'll meet you up at your room. Take your time, I have all day." I spoke, trying not to raise suspicions. She was on the same floor as Peter anyways, I'd just stop by his room to make sure he was breath before heading to hers. Both Wanda and Vision nodded, along with the rest of the group who seemed sort of relieved.

  I continued walking normally towards the elevator, with every intention of clicking her floor button. But I noticed the stares I was still receiving, like they were watching what I was about to do. I click her floor button, letting the doors close in front of me. For some reason though, a part of me was screaming at me to go to my room. Like something was off, and being in there would reset my balance. So I clicked my floor button. Wanda was only a floor below me, so I just stand on at the first stop, and got off at the second.

  And that's when I realized why they didn't want me going to my own room.

  The door was cracked open.

Someone went into my room. The one thing in this entire world that I have to myself and someone went into it. For what? For nothing, but everything in there belong to me and no one else. It's the one thing that I ask for. 'Don't go into my room when I'm gone' and 'don't touch my stuff'. The only request and set boundaries that I have or made. And some deliberately went against that. And now, here I was trying my best not be pissed off. Maybe it was just Peter in there sleeping in my bed. That was fine. I can deal with him sleeping in my bed when I'm away.

  See, now I'm all calm.

"What's going on in here?" My feet coming to a dead stop in the doorway. I spotted, 1 2 3. 3 bodies. 3 too many bodies in a room that didn't belong to any of them. Sam, Thor, and Peter. This whole trio just seemed odd to me... like why them out of all people? Sam slept next door, but we've never entered each other's rooms. Thor only ever came in when me and Peter were watching Star Wars to tell us how realistic it is and how on other planets in the galaxy he's seen places just like the ones in movies. And Pete only ever came in here when I was home, or out on a mission he couldn't attend... but all with my permission. No one in this room, asked my permission.

  "Oh hello, lady y/n!" Thor gasped, tossing the lamp he had in his had for some reason on my perfectly made bed.

  I didn't make my bed this morning.

Those wasn't even my bed set...

   "Hello boys..." I hummed, unable to hold on a smile on my face as I slowly took a step into my room.

  "Shit." Sam cursed under his breath, hanging his head down low. I was a bit of a freak about privacy and personal space. And here he was with a box filled with stuff in my room... my stuff. From what I could see it was a bunch of my books, and all of my electronics and their chargers my eyes then searched around until they landed on Peter who had a giant duffle bag with my clothes jam packed into into. It wouldn't even zip all the way it was so packed. And the worst part is, I don't even think he cared about the fact that all my shirt were being wrinkled because of him.

  "You're holding my stuff-"my head slowly tilted to the side.

  "Y/N before you get upset-" Peter tried, but it was already too late. My brain was moving faster than sound and I couldn't even think straight.

  "Hi Peter, what are you doing with my stuff?" My tone a little more harsh than it normally would be, but I just couldn't help it. There was nothing that bugged me more than people. touching. my. stuff.

  "Well I was- and then we were-"

"Don't say we!" Sam scoffed, shaking he head. "I was brought into this against my will-"

  "Why are you all in my room?" I asked again, tone somewhat more demanding than before.

  "I uh... we were just... uhm... welcomingournewguestintoyourroomforthenextfewweeks..." Thor spoke quickly, his voice raising at least 30 octaves higher than normal.

  "Into MY room?"

"For the next few weeks..." Peter added on, as if somehow I missed it the first time.

  "And how many weeks is a few?" I asked, trying to contain my will to punch each and every single one of the out of whatever window was closer.

  "Two months..." Sam answered... my willpower slowly withering away.

   "I didn't know mid guardian 'shampoo' smelled so divine!" An accent spoke out, echoing out of my bathroom. My eyes shot to Thor seeing as the accent sounding way too familiar to just be someone random.

  "Uhm... brother come out here please." Thor cleared his throat.

  "Brother!?" My eyes went wide, fist tightening at my sides.

  "Is she in her- oh shit" an out of breath voice coming from the doorway caught my attention. Bruce stood there, with wide eyes, about to back away before was able to reach out and grab the collar of his shirt.

  "You knew about this?" My eyes narrowed.

"No?" I took in a sharp breath. "Yes but Tony said not to tell you because Peter was supposed to deal with you!" He mumbled out, my grip on him dropping before my head snapped in Peters direction.

  "You weren't supposed to say anything!" He whined.

"She's scary!"

  "Are you done yet? I want to catch up on my reading before the sunsets." Loki came out with an interested look on his faces as his eyes scanned the room. His gaze stopped on me, before he sent a soft smile. "You must be, y/n! I'd say it's a pleasure but you look like your about to murder someone." He tilted his head at me.

  "Lady y/n, this is my brother Loki! He will be staying with us for a little while..."

  "You have a beautiful room, so nice and... organized."

"This isn't happening." I shook my head, my whole world basically falling apart in front of me.

  "Y/n-" Peter spoke up, walking towards me as if I wasn't seconds away from decking him in the throat.

  "This ISN'T Happening!" I breathed out, hearing the footsteps urge down the hall.

  "Uhm, on the bright side Tony said we could share a room for a while! No more sneaking out before sunrise, right?" Peter tried to make it better, not realizing that Tony was glaring at him from the doorway. "Oh I uhm- sorry. I mean-"

  "She doesn't seem very pleased with this whole arrangement." Loki sighed, not really caring, just watching I practically broke down.

  "She is very excited!" Nat claimed, wrapped her arms around my shoulder, as they all slowly pried me away from my room, my stuff animal still sitting on the shelves, watching me leave, never to return ever again. 

  "No im not! I did not invite Loki to come into my room-" I struggled against Wanda and Bruce's grip on me. "And move my stuff around!" I tried but their muscle power was just to much.

  "We'll see you at dinner, Loki." Tony spoke from the doorway as if this wasn't a big problem.

  "No! I'll see you in hell Loki you mother-" my hands caught a hold to the doorway, allowing me to hold onto something but not for long considering Steve was trying to pry my fingers off. "ILL SEE YOU IN HELL!"

  5 hours later...

"C-can I come in now?" Peter spoke, peaking his head in through the door. My eyes shot to him, but I didn't speak. He took that as a yes, and walked in, shutting his room door behind himself. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner..."

  "Really? Cause it doesn't seem like your sorry!" I scoffed, turning over in his bed so I wouldn't look at him.

  "I gave you a 1 hour cool off!" He defends himself. "How much longer can you be mad at me?" I practically hear the smirk in his voice.

  "2 months." He laughed. "Fucking asshole." I groaned, burying my face in one of his pillows, letting out a deep breath.

"W-wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He laughed again, scurrying to the bed. I felt the mattress dip under his weight, as he climbed his way over to me. His arms wrapping around me, smothering me in his scent, as he pressed sweet kisses up my shoulder and neck earning tiny giggle from me, only because it tickled. "Come on, forgive me. I'm sorry!" Peter whined, rolling my body over so we'd be face to face.

"But I want to be mad at you."

"Why?"

"Because I like the drama... what else?" I scoffed, his eyes rolling at me. "Now leave me alone so I can mope about that serpent in my room."

"So be mad at him, not me, forgive me. I'll do anything." He pleaded.

"Anything?" I asked, a smirk pulling at my lips as they did the same for his. His face lowering so that our lips hovered over each other's.

"Anything... just name it..." he nearly whispered.

"Get. My. Room. Back."

"Y/NNNN!!!!!" He whined.

"Leave me alone. So I can lay here and die slowly. All my stuffies are in there suffering from his stench and I'm down here with you."

"What's wrong with me?" He scoffed, as if I offended him somehow.

"Are you a stuffed animal with a ridiculous name that's a ridiculously bright color?"

"No."

"Then that's what's wrong with you."

He must've thought I was joking, because he began to laugh once again. I can't turn back over because he was right on top of me. And though I could've just knees him in between the legs, he was bringing too much comfort for me to want him to move.

"Forgive me." He stated once more, but I was stubborn.

"No. I'm not done being dramatic." I shook my head.

"Forgive me." He spoke again. I stayed silent, giving him a dead stare to let him know that I wasn't planning on giving up anytime soon. "Forgive me... please?" He spoke again, as if the cherry on top would've made the difference. "I'm begging you, my oh my, light of my life, I just want your forgiveness."

"That sounded very sarcastic."

"It was."

"I'm going back to ignoring you, dick." I scoffed, turning head the best that I could. Closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Baby, I'm sorry." He whined, his head falling on my chest before picking himself up again. "Forgive. Me." He huffed. A few moments of ailments passed before I felt the first kiss. I was right on my cheek. I ignored it, trying to fight the smile at his adorable attempts to make me smile. "Forgive me." He hummed again before placing down another kiss on the corner of my lips. "Forgive me." He placed another one directly on my jawline. And the process continued. His kiss got lower and lower until he was in my cleavage and I was breathing a little heavier.

"I'm napping, can't forgive you sorry." I shrugged.

"But I'll do anything..." his voice a little softer, my eyes opening a bit to look at him, his dark brown eyes darker than usual with a glint of mischief in them. "Anything." He spoke again, his fingers running along my sides, down my body, stopping at the waist of my jeans. I felt my heart racing in my chest, even though we've done this plenty of times before, it always got me excited. "Still sleep?" He hummed, amusement in his voice. I didn't respond, just watched carefully at his next action.

He swiftly under the buttons and zipper on my jeans, tugging them down my legs. I was still silent just watching him in all his glory. His body crawling back up to mine, our lips hovering over each other's for a while. I could feel his crotch near my heat, getting me worked up at just the proximity. He brought his lips down on mine for a brief second before taking them away again. He crawled back down my body, snatching my underwear from my legs, ripping them in the promise.

"Peter!" I gasped.

"Shhhh..." he hummed, playfully allowing the fabric to fling off of his finger onto the floor.

I followed instructions, remaining silent as he moved again. His face coming down to centimeter in front of my heat. His breath hitting directly on my clit, sending an indescribable sensation through my body. My eyes never leaving his as I felt his tongue flatten over my folds, already dripping for him. Ready to take whatever it was he chose to give to me.

My legs opened a bit wider for him in their own, as he let his tongue travel through my sex. Sucking and working on my clit, earning breathless moans as I reveled in the absolute feel of him. The wet lewd sounds of his tongue against me filling the room. His hands placed on the insides of my thigh, keeping them apart, as he noticed them moving closer together around him. My chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. My hips pushing against him, desperate for more. I felt the vibrations from his own moans shoot straight through my being, the feeling better than anything I've ever felt before. My arousal continuously dripping onto his tongue. His lips attached to my clit, driving me absolutely insane.

"Oh fuck Pete- god!" I moaned, the sounds just rolling off my tongue. He just hummed in response, sending another shock to my core. His tongue fucking my hole with a power that almost had me screaming.

"yes yes yes, oh FUcK" I cried, my orgasm approaching quickly.

"Do you forgive me now?" Peter spoke, tearing his lips away from me, earning a loud whine.

"Yes, yes I do. I forgive the fuck out of you." I breathed watching his grin turn. "Please, I'm so close."

He went back down, continuing his work, my moan even loader the feeling on him. Before long he was holding my hips down to the mattresses as he was sucking me through an orgasm, not letting a single drop of me go to waste.

"Was that so hard to do?" Peter spoke with a cheeky grin on his face, lips pressing softly against mine once again.

"Well now I'm done being dramatic, but..." My eyes raked over his body. "Your not naked enough for me." I sent a fake pout, and he let out a light laugh. "I want you, like right now."

"Say please." He teased, my eyes rolling at the request.

"Please oh please, fuck me, Spiderman." I spoke in the same tone he used earlier.

"Really?"

"I think I'm funny." I shrugged.

"Mmhm." His eyes rolled, as he sat up, peeling down his shorts and boxers revealing his length, already hard and ready for me.

I wrapped my fingers around him, pumping him quickly as his forehead rested on mine. Tiny grunts and moans leaving his lips at my touch. I brought his tip to my entrance allowing him to do his own thing. He teased my folds with his tip, pressing down on my clit before going to down to my hole.

Slowly he pushed himself in extracting a loud moan from my throat. He let out a sigh as he allowed himself to bottom out. His hands on my legs, keeping the apart, allowing himself to look at exactly what was happening down there.

"God, you take me so well." He moaned out, my walls clenching around him.

Slowly he pulled out of my until as just his very tip resting into my cunt before moving his hips back into mine. He pace started off slow and sweet, allowing me to adjust to feeling before his hips began to snap into at a brutal pace. The sounds moans and near screams, and skin colliding together repeatedly filled the room.

"Fuck, your doing s-so well for me baby." Peter grunted.

I felt a heavy fluttering feeling throughout my body, as his grip on my legs got tighter. His movements sharper and more efficient hitting every single one of my rights spot.

He allowed my legs to close just bit before putting them over his shoulder, leaning down into me, hitting at a much deeper angle.

"Oh my fuu- Yes Peter!" I screamed, hands move up his biceps from something to grip on to.

My eyes squeezing shut as my vision blurred, I felt another orgasm approaching. My whole body going light and tensing as I neared my undoing, Peter above me singing praise after praise driving me absolutely wild.

  "M'so cl- ah I'm so close"

"Me too baby, let go for me." Peter moaned, his hips working faster and harder into me.

   My legs now stuttering as my mind was wiped smooth clean of thoughts. Nothing but moans able to escape my lips as it became physically impossible to be able to do anything else. 

  "Good girl, let go for me." He groaned, straight up tackling me right off the edge. I came with loud moan of his name, my cunt convulsing around him as he continued to fuck into me. My legs shaking over him, my sight going completely black, everything feeling foreign to me in this moment right now. My toes curling as I felt my release tear through me, his sweet praises egging me on.

"Fuuuckk." I moaned, body coming down from the high as he pulled out of me. His hand went to pumping his own cock, head thrown back in his own fit of pleasure.

I used whatever strength I had, sitting up and taking his cock in my own hand. Pumping him as quickly as I could. His eyes peering down at me, watching as I worked him towards him own high.

"Oh god, just like that, yeah-" he moaned. I could felt him twitching in my hand, his face twisting with pleasure. "I'm gonna cum" his mouth dropped open, as mine wrapped around his tip. My hand pumping whatever I didn't have the energy to fit as I allowed my head to bob on him. I could taste my own juices around him as I sucked on his tip.

He came with a long moan of my name, my mouth taking down more of him than I had, all his hot seed to hit the very back of my throat. I took down as much as I could, milking him for all he was worth before he became too sensitive and just pulled himself out of my mouth himself, collapsing right next to me on the bed.

    "Nice of the two of you to join us." Tony cleared his throat, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. I just sent a glare towards him, taking a seat next to Nat as Peter took the seat on the other side of me.

  "Everything thing looks really good. Thank you, Wanda and Mr.Vision." Peter smiled sweetly, way too nice to the people who had so easily given up MY room to the godly guest. "y/n.." Peter cleared his throat, elbow nudging my arm to speak up.

“yeah thanks.” I sigh, earning a glare from Peter. “M’sorry for overreacting early.” I huff, not too happy to be apologizing for a situation where I was in the right, but Peter had given me the whole ‘be a bigger person’ speech in the elevator on the way down. I looked over to Thor and his room stealing brother, offering the best fake smile I could. Telling by everyone’s faces it wasn’t very convincing. “I hope you enjoy your time here.” I spoke through my teeth.

“Uhm, thank you, lady y/n.” The dark haired god spoke carefully.

I was going to let it go eventually. But that was before I noticed the distinct fruity smell in the air. A smell I had recognized as the Shampoo Steve had gotten me for my birthday a few months ago. He claimed he didn’t know what I wanted, but I think he just forgot and he had to improvise. Either way, I knew the smell because it was one of my favorite shampoos I’ve ever used. And now that smell was in the air. And it wasn’t me. Leaving only one other person.

“Y/N!” Peter gasped, hand gripping at my wrist. A knife caught in my grip as my hand went into the air. I hadn’t even noticed, it was probably just a reflex.

[kerie-prince]

daisy cafe

Harry Potter x Muggle!reader

not a request

warnings: mentions of death, ptsd?? (in the form of nightmares)

summary: Harry starts his healing journey after the Battle, and a rainy night after a counseling session brought him into your café

a/n: hope y'all like this random imagine i wrote <3 i was meant to post it last night but i got into a heated debate about ww84 and i don't queue posts so here's this. no lie, i had a hard time writing this lol it's a whole 4k long imagine (whoops) also, when i say 'football' in this fic, i mean soccer lol

(gif cred)

The Battle of Hogwarts.

There was a lot to say about that day. So many perspectives and interpretations from different people. And today, Harry would talk to his counselor about his. At first, he opposed the idea of having a counselor but Hermione insisted that he talks to a professional. Well, insisted probably isn't the word. If anything, Hermione probably forced him into it and made the appointment herself.

So here he sat in the waiting room, sitting awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair. Even the chairs in the Hogwarts classrooms were more comfortable than these. The room was small and had tacky sunflower wallpaper. Harry sat by himself and internally cursed his best friends for just leaving him there and drove off. ‘Call me when it's over!’ Hermione had yelled out through the window.

“Mr. Harry Potter?” a young man called out for him. Harry followed him into the counselors office, noticing that the room was much nicer than the waiting room and the chairs looked more comfortable. And if he was going to be stuck here for over an hour, he better not walk out with back pain.

Harry sat patiently as he waited for the counselor to come. He noticed the golden name plate on the desk with a name written in black letters. Jon Osborne. Harry’s leg was unconsciously bouncing in rhythm with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He didn't think he'd be nervous about it as he was now. He immediately stood up as he heard Dr. Osborne come in. “Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to meet you,” he stretched his hand out to greet Harry.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir,” Harry said with a shy smile. Once they sat down, Dr. Osborne went straight into it, “So tell me, Mr. Potter, how have you been?”

“Great. I've been busy planning a wedding,” Harry stated like it was a normal conversation. “Congratulations. Yours, I'm assuming?”

“No, it's for my two best mates,” Harry corrected. “They're getting married pretty soon and I offered to help pay for it. Not really doing much of decoration planning, Hermione thinks Ron and I would pick something stupid,” Harry wasn't looking at Dr. Osborne directly, but he had a faint smile as he explained the details. “And are you with anyone?” Dr. Osborne asked.

It made the young wizard think. Ron and Hermione were getting married, Neville and Luna were having fun on small dates, and Ginny was still going back and forth with Dean. “No, I'm not with anyone at the moment.”

His counselor wrote something down quickly before going forward with the next question. “Do you think about it often?” Harry knew what he was insinuating. His breath hitched a bit. Harry certainly didn’t expect to be asked this question so early on. From Hermione’s explanation, he wasn’t expecting to talk about the Battle for maybe another couple sessions. And that was if Harry even wanted to do other sessions.

“You don’t think you need to be here,” it was like he read Harry’s mind. And it was true. “Well, I do have a pretty solid support group. We all went through it together.” Harry rubbed the palms of his unusually sweaty hands against his pants.

“So because you and your friends went through it together, you're okay? Nothing about it bothers you?” had Dr. Osborne’s tone altered just a bit, he would've sounded condescending. He sounded a bit empathetic. It made Harry actually want to talk. “Do you and your friends actually talk about it?”

The answer was clear to Harry. No. If he was being honest, he didn't think there's even a reason to talk about it. The worst had been over, and now that him and his friends and family – and by family, he meant the Weasleys – were finally in peace, Harry figured that he wouldn't have to think about it again.

But the nightmares were relentless. It wasn't like the ones he had when Voldemort was in his mind and showing him things he wanted to show Harry. These nightmares were worse. They consisted of the worst that could have happened that day. Watching his friends die, his professors, his peers. The worst of the worst. And there's one that he hated the most. Being in Voldemort's point of view and killing Harry successfully and for good this time.

Hermione tried to get Harry to talk, but he's too stubborn. So she figured the only way to get him to talk was to schedule this appointment. He was promised confidentiality and listening ears with no judgement. Harry accepted because he knew that even though Hermione would always be there, she would probably say something like ‘You're not alone in this, we're all here for you and with you.’ Ron would listen to the whole thing and suggest getting a drink and food. Harry loves his friends, but it's hard to talk about such things when they've gone through it too. He wondered if they felt the same.

—

Harry was leaving his fourth session with Dr. Osborne. Unexpectedly, he enjoyed these meetings. It felt good to talk to someone outside of his friends. Hermione noticed how he was returning to his old self, joking around and enjoying playing quidditch at the Burrow.

Harry decided on taking a small walk around the Muggle London street before calling Hermione and Ron to pick him up. After ten minutes, though, sprinkles of rain were falling down. And sprinkles turned into hard falls. Harry covered his head with his hands and looked around for someplace to run in. Next to him was a dental office, but to his luck the door was locked. He kept looking and looking for some place to stay inside until finally, he saw a building across the street with a lit up ‘Open’ sign.

Harry looked both sides of the street before running across. He was getting soaked by the second and when he ran inside, his jacket was dripping onto the mat. The place was warm and smelled lovely. Harry took his glasses off and wiped it with the driest part of his shirt. The cafe looked as warm as it felt. There weren’t any guests inside and he didn't find anyone working there. Harry saw the bell on the bread display and pressed on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, a girl came to the front. “Sorry for taking so long, how can I help– oh are you alright?” You saw the puddles of water that were splattered all around the floor. But your worry was with the stranger that was most likely freezing. “D-do you happen to have a phone around?” Harry asked you. He was shaking where he stood and all he wanted was to go home and get into some warm clothes. You nodded your head and went in the back to get the phone. Harry wanted to sit down, but he didn't want to make more of a mess than he’s already done. You came back quickly with a phone and a few rags so he could dry himself.

Harry dialed Hermione’s number and waited for her to answer. She didn't answer the first or second time which made Harry frustrated. They better not be in the middle of it right now. Finally, she answered on his third call. “Hello?”

“Hermione, what the bloody hell have you been doing?” Harry sassed. When he looked up, he saw how you stood awkwardly to the side, surprised that in contrast to his sweet demeanor, he sounded like the opposite. But that was just your assumption.

“Harry? Is that you? Why are you calling from this number?” In the background, he could hear Teddy joyful coos. “I was just giving Teddy a bath, I couldn't hear the phone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s raining really hard, can you come pick me up?” Harry felt your eyes on him still and he smiled awkwardly.

“Of course, are you still in the office?”

“No, I’m– hold on” he stopped mid-sentence and lowered the phone down, “where am I?” It took you a couple seconds to process that he was talking to you now, “Oh, uh, Daisy Cafe.”

“Daisy Cafe,” Harry repeated back to Hermione. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” And she hung up. Harry handed the phone back to you, “Thanks.”

Your hand was warm against his, a warmth he wished he had instead of the cold that enveloped his body. Harry’s legs were getting tired from standing so long and you noticed the shift in his position. “Please, take a seat,” you had gestured to a table. Harry insisted that he didn't want to ruin the chairs, but you didn't mind.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and ran to the back leaving Harry alone. He wondered what you were doing until he saw you come back slowly dragging a large heating machine. Harry stood from his seat and rushed to help you, “Where did you want this?”

“I was going to put this in front of the table so you can warm up. Don’t want you to get sick,” you spoke softly. You felt yourself warm up on your cheeks, somehow shy in this moment. On a daily basis, you talk to loads of strangers and some of them were quite attractive. But something about this stranger felt different.

Harry blinked with an indescribable look in his eyes as he stuttered a ‘thank you’. You turned on the large heater after Harry sat back down and slightly shifted his chair so he could be in range of the heaters’ direction.

You grabbed your keys from your back pants pocket to lock the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign off. “Would you like some coffee?” you offered him. Harry nodded and searched his pockets for his wallet before you stopped him, “Don't worry! It's on the house.”

There was a pot of coffee that was still hot on the warmer and you grabbed a tray, filling it with a mug, creamer, sugar, and a small plate of assorted biscuits in case he was hungry as well. You walked to his table and sat them down. He was in awe of all the things you brought out for him and felt grateful that you would do this for a stranger. “Thank you,” he nodded his head at you with a genuine smile.

“It’s no trouble,” you smiled back. You sat across from him with a mug of your own and sipped on the hot beverage you made. Harry took a sip of the coffee he finished preparing and nearly sighed at the feeling of it warming him up inside. Mixed with the heat that was coming from the heater, he felt brilliant as he usually says.

“Do you live around here?” You started small chat to get out of the awkward silence.

“No, I live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” Harry stated. He noticed the confused look on your face, you had probably had no idea where that was. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

You nodded in response. Harry then asked if you lived around. After a while, you had gotten to know each other pretty well. He learned about your two cats that are always fighting, you learned about his friends always pulling pranks on each other in the house. As Harry waited for Hermione to pick him up, he was enjoying talking and laughing with you. You two were having such a good time getting to know each other in what felt like thirty minutes, but was actually an hour.

Once Hermione was in front of the cafe and beeped the horn of the car, Harry felt a bit disappointed to leave. This was probably the first conversation he had with someone who he didn't already live with or paid to listen. And it was a bonus that he found you quite attractive. “That’s for me. Thank you… for letting me stay.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Safe travels on your way home! I hope you don’t get sick,” you waved off as you opened the door for him. Harry ran through the hard rain to get into his friend's car, but once he opened the door to the front seat, he turned back to you. “I never got your name!” Harry yelled out.

“Y/N! What’s yours?” You voiced with the same energy.

“Harry!” You smiled and waved one last time before closing the door and got yourself ready to go home. Harry fastened his seatbelt and held a small smile nearly the entire ride home. Hermione cleared her throat to get her friends’ attention. “How was the session today?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ in an attempt to not have to talk. Not because he was gloomy, but distracted. He then processed what she said and replied back to the bushy haired woman, “Oh, i-it went fine. Good, great.” Harry was stuttering over his words. It was something that Hermione instantly noticed what was going on. The last time he was like this was when he first met Cho in fourth year. It was nice, she thought, that Harry was not only getting back to normal, but was also focused on something - or rather someone - other than his nightmares.

—

Harry goes to your cafe now after every session with Dr. Osborne. He finally went for his drivers license so he didn't have to depend on Hermione anymore. Ron and Hermione apparate to work anyway, so it granted him more access to the car.

Every Monday and Thursday, you would wait for him to walk through your doors. You would set aside a small box of warm biscuits for him that he seemed to enjoy and remembered how he took his coffee. After a couple of weeks, the people you worked with would give you a smirk and tease you with ‘He’s here~’. One of them, Jo, would constantly ask you if Harry has asked you out yet. And every time, you'd say ‘No.’ only for him to reply back ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out?’

You’ve definitely thought about it, but you didn't know how to ask him. There would be times that you thought Harry would do it before he left, but he’d just be a stuttering mess and leave. So, tonight before he leaves, you planned to just be straight with him and ask him to dinner.

Harry came later than usual today. After he stepped out of the counselors’ office, he checked his hair in the mirror he saw in the hallways. Tonight, he was also planning on asking you out. He likes you and he was pretty sure you liked him too. Once he stepped outside, he saw a flower cart in front of a local bank. Harry debated whether or not to buy you some, but opted out. What if she says no? What do I do with them at that point?

After an hour of having a mental pep talk, he entered Daisy Cafe. He didn't see you behind the bread display like he always had. Jo had recognized him immediately and watched as Harry looked around the small cafe for you. “She’s in the back, would you like for me to get her?”

“I-I can wait. She’s probably busy,” Harry stuttered. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad thing that your co-worker instantly knew what he was there for. Is it really obvious? Harry thought. He saw as Jo walked to the back anyway, probably announcing his presence to you. As it turned out, you were in the back checking yourself out in the small mirror that was hung on the inside of your locker. You ran out as soon as Jo said "He’s here" and dusted the flour off onto your apron.

“Hi, Harry,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Harry greeted back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, just cleaning up. Did you have a good day?” you asked. Harry nodded his head. He was about to order before you stopped him, “Your usual today?” He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head, “I come in that often, don't I?” You chuckled and began making his coffee. “It’s alright, I enjoy your company.” The both of you blushed, more so you after the sudden confession.

You couldn't see him, but Jo was listening to your conversation and wanted to laugh. You looked at Harry for any signs of possible rejection and just as quickly looked away to finish his order. Jo came out from the back with his bag and keys in his hand, “I’ve counted the safe for you. Have a good night, I’ll head out.” You nodded your head and thanked god for the interruption, “Thanks hun, see you tomorrow.” He winked at Harry once you looked away as to say ‘Good luck’ and walked out.

Harry became nervous and thought about just grabbing his coffee and going home. He hadn't dated anyone in a long time and didn't know where to even start. Merlin, he didn't even know what to do in a relationship. And especially with a muggle. Harry nearly forgot what it was like to be around muggles after the Dursley's left their home on Privet Drive and Harry moved in the Weasley’s in the Burrow. He certainly couldn't bring you there anytime soon. Especially when Arthur would ask you loads of questions. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Neither of you knew how to get a conversation going. You took your time stirring his coffee and grabbing the small box of biscuits before turning back to him. You made yourself tea instead, having drank too much coffee throughout the day to calm your nerves. He took the styrofoam cup and box from your hands and purposely brushed his fingers against yours but made it seem like an accident. Your neck stiffened at the sudden physical contact and pulled your hands back. He felt electric and if he let you, you'd grab his hands and keep them intertwined with yours.

It’s now or never you thought. “Do you want to go to dinner sometime–”

“Would you like to go out with me–” you and Harry spoke at the same time. You hadn't processed what he said so you questioned, “Huh? What was that?” Harry thought he heard you correctly, but he asked you again, “Would you like to go out with me? For dinner, maybe?”

YES, YES, YES you chanted in your head. Your heart was warm and you felt a butterfly flutter about inside you. On the outside, you were cool and collected. But your smile could have spoken for you. “Yes, I’d love that.”

—

Hermione helped Harry with looking for nice places in muggle London. George offered his best suit to the raven-haired boy, but Harry declined because he was significantly smaller in stature than the tall ginger, and also because he feared that George would have hexed the suit to either squirt out water, or have random objects falling out the sleeves.

George, Ginny and Ron would tease Harry about finally having a girlfriend, only to get scolded by both Hermione and Molly to stop. “Harry is a perfectly handsome young boy, he should be dating as much as he can,” Molly would defend.

“Ah, but mum, Harry isn't a boy anymore,” George joked. Molly hit her sons’ head with a cleaning rag and returned to what she was doing. Harry had picked a small restaurant that Hermione recommended that was inexpensive but not shabby. He never really liked expensive places or things even though he can absolutely afford them. She suggested that she helped him pick out something to wear, but he stopped her right there. “I can dress myself, thanks,” Harry sassed.

“The one you should be helping is my hopeless brother,” Ginny joked about Ron. He didn't find it all funny as Ron had a sour look on his face and whispered under his breath, “Bloody menace.”

“What did you say?” Ginny stood straight up from the couch and chased Ron throughout the house. She may be the youngest in the house, but it didn't make her any less scary when mad. George laughed at the sight of his siblings fighting while Molly yelled at them to be careful.

Harry finally put everything together – but if he was honest, he was putting together whatever Hermione said – and went to his room. There was still a couple days until the date, but he was nervous. He’s never really gone on a date. There was the night with Patil at the Yule Ball, but that didn't end well. There were a couple hang outs with Cho in the library, but never an actual date. So he hoped that this would turn out well.

—

Harry's breath was taken away when he saw you. You looked absolutely beautiful in the sundress you wore. Looking ethereal, you hadn't noticed Harry across the street parking the car. For a split second, he almost rear ended the car in front of him.

He walked towards slowly after taking a deep breath and held a single daisy in one hand. Hermione said roses were ideal, but he figured he should come up with at least one thing on his own. Your e/c eyes met his green ones and your heart did somersaults in your chest. Once he stood in front of you, you both said ‘Hi’ at the same time. Harry handed you the daisy and you were flattered by the gesture. It was a beautiful flower and you couldn't wait to put it in a small vase and display it at the cafe.

“Shall we go inside?” Harry had one of his hands pointed towards the door of the restaurant. You nodded and walked into the place with Harry holding the door open for you and another elderly couple behind him. He’s so sweet you thought.

The night was perfect; Harry had felt comfortable in your presence. Much like the first night you had met and the times after, you both spent the dinner talking and laughing. This was the most normal, but also best Harry had felt in a long time. He hadn't realized how he never really got to be a young person due to all the insane things he’d gone through his six years at Hogwarts and then before with his aunt and uncle. But here he was with you, doing the most normal thing. Harry’s troubles were lifted off of his shoulders. There was no threat of Death Eaters terrorizing the streets, there was no Dark Lord out to get him; it was just him sitting down and having dinner with a woman that he really liked.

He learned more about you tonight. For one, you were also an only child. Other than your cats, you also liked dogs. And you occasionally played football with some of your cousins. Harry had never played football, but if it was anything like quidditch, he was sure that he'd love it as well.

At the end of the date, he took you to your underground tube station. You walked side by side, hands slightly brushing against another. You walked a bit faster to stop in your tracks right in front of him. “I had a lot of fun,” you confessed.

“Me too,” Harry expressed. You looked down at your fiddling hands while Harry couldn't take his eyes off of you. He was about to say ‘good night’ before you built up the courage and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Harry,” you beamed at him. Harry was turned into a blubbering, love-struck fool as he saw you walk further and further away. Finally, he yelled out, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Before turning away into the tube, you waved and repeated his words back at him, “See you Monday!”

—

“Well you're certainly in a bright mood today, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Osborne observed Harry from his seat. Since the date, he’s been talking a bit brighter and his smile is more genuine than when he first came in. “Could it be because you’re seeing someone after you leave?” All Harry could do was smile. “Well I’m very happy that you now have a companion aside from your friends.”

Harry nodded before he replied back, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Potter. You did this on your own,” Dr. Osborne stated. “Will you bring her to the wedding?”

“No, I don't think we’re ready for that,” Harry informed. This wedding would definitely include magic and you hadn't been close to any exposure of it. “Of course.” Dr, Osborne added. There was a bit of silence after that, which gave the counselor an opportune moment to ask about some of the things that were the reason for his weekly visits. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

Harry’s smile lowered. “Yeah, I do. But not as frequent as I used to have them.” It was true, it went down from him having them about nearly everyday to only get them once every couple weeks. He thanked Merlin you were kept out of his nightmares. He didn't need to see something traumatizing.

Dr. Osborne took notes and set his notepad down. “Well, Mr. Potter. I have seen excellent progress since day one. I think we can move down to just one session per week and work our way down to once every few weeks. I'll see you next Monday.” He opened the door for Harry and shook his hand as Harry left. Harry went to your cafe right after. The daisy he gifted you was on display above the glass bread display in a small, white vase. He hoped that you regularly watered and fed it so you wouldn't notice that Harry actually hexed the flower to never die. You were currently helping someone out when Harry stood in line. Once the customer you were with left, you noticed your boyfriend – at least you assumed he was, now – standing behind a couple of people. He waved at you, and you pointed to the usual table he sat at. It was almost like you reserved the table only for him. He nodded and sat down, patiently waiting for you to finish the line of customers.

Harry was mesmerized watching you work, the beautiful, kind smile you had when talking to customers. Some of them were obviously regulars as you asked one elderly man how his grandchildren were. Once she finished helping everyone, she started working on the usual coffees and tray on biscuits for the two of you.

Harry loved hearing about your day and he wished he could tell you more beyond what happens at home that didn't include magic. He didn't know when he'd tell you about him being a wizard. Ron and Hermione told him that if he were to tell you, you're more than welcome to attend their wedding which was still a few months away now that they have all the time in the world to plan it. He didn't know what to say, but there was one thing he was sure about. He really liked, maybe even loved, how comfortable he felt around you. He liked the way your hands felt in his, your eyes shying away when you looked at him for too long. And he loved the feeling of your warm, soft lips against his at the end of the night when you had just locked the doors and he just went for it. Because in that moment, he wasn't the famous Harry Potter who saved the wizarding world, he wasn't Harry Potter who was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle. He was just Harry, and he really liked being your boyfriend.

At least he assumed he was.

—

requests open!

[wincestisasincest]

She Moves Me (John Lennon x Reader)

So I actually wrote this a while but forgot to post it. Kinda cheesy but oops. 

What-up, y’all. I’m angry. And I just realized that I see a lot of fics where John comforts the reader when they are sad/lonely or stuff like that, but there really aren’t a lot of fics where he comforts the reader when they’re angry. 

I am here to remedy that. 

(Btw if you want to listen to the songs they’re all Muddy Waters, individually called “Just Make Love to Me,” “Mannish Boy,” and “She Moves Me.” 

Description: You are big angry and John, resident constant aggro, actually has a useful solution. 

Words: 1,599

Pairings: John Lennon x reader

Warnings: Umm nothing bad but the lyrics to the songs tend to be a little bit racy. Oh and also swearing

You slammed the door behind you and slumped down against it. You could feel your face beginning to flush and your fists balling. 

Your chest was rising. 

You didn’t want John to see you like this. Sure, you wanted comfort, but you also wanted privacy. And worse, you were a girl. John thought that you were cute when you were angry, with your face contorted into some fiery expression like you were about to give someone hell, despite the fact that you normally couldn’t hurt a fly.

But right now you didn’t wanna be cute. You wanted to be angry.

“Tryna break the door, are ye?” John’s voice called from the kitchen you shared. He was probably pensively reading a book and sipping tea with his thick, blocky glasses on, as he usually was when you came home from work. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m about to go out.” It took all of your effort not to snap at him. You didn’t have time for banter. You didn’t want to see anyone. 

But it was too late. He could hear it in your voice. 

You unloaded your bag on the counter. Really, you didn’t even know why you had bothered coming home. You wanted to go out. And maybe kick something. 

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He was lingering in the doorway now, watching you holding yourself back from throwing a tantrum. 

His expression was a characteristic smile. You didn’t need to look, you just knew it was there. You were afraid to look up and ruin it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You said that in a snappy voice.”

“It’s not you,” you were still looking at your feet, “It’s just been a fuckin’ long day.” You released a deep breath, which slowly turned into a sigh. 

“Shit. Must’ve been.” The floorboards creaked, and you could tell that he was moving closer to you. 

“I just,” you staggered back a little bit, “it takes absolutely nothing to not be an asshole! Nothing at all! And that’s just so hard to get for some people.” 

“Dare I ask what happened?” 

You finally managed a look up. Your matted hair was falling in your face, and it gave you an almost terrifying appearance. John seemed even a little bit taken aback. You never had a particularly threatening appearance, but damn if you didn’t get very close there. 

He returned to the smile again.

“Don’t say it.” You muttered.

“Say what?” He asked coyly.

“You know damn well.”

“I can’t help it. If you already look cute all the time, it’s only natural that you look cute when you’re angry.” He crossed his arms. 

“Goddamnit, John.” Your face spread into a small smile, but you were still absolutely flushed with red. 

There was a small silence as you brushed your hair back into place. Your fists were still balled. You still wanted to punch something. Maybe John could join you. He was good at getting into fights. 

You gave him a side glance. 

“Wanna go start a fight?” 

“What?!” He chortled. He was grinning, but still caught off guard. 

“I need to punch something.” 

“Temper, temper. What would your mother say?” He tutted and sat on the arm of the couch.

You wanted to say something back, but you were still fuming. You hated it when he condescended to you, though you knew he meant nothing by it. He was trying to cheer you up. 

You breathed in stiffly, still having no reply. You could feel your eyes beginning to water. You felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

“Hold on, lemme get something.” He got up from the couch and began to rattle around in the makeshift box of records that you kept just next to the record player. 

Of course, given John’s hobbies, it was absolutely stacked, but you had added a fair amount of your own to the stack. Though, that’s not what he was reaching for. 

The record he held was dark in color, though you couldn’t quite make out what was on the cover. 

“John, what in the-”

“I used to do this shit all the time whenever I got pissed but me fists were too tired.” 

“So never?”

He put the needle on the record and you immediately recognized the sound. The scratchy blues tones of Muddy Waters, one of his favorite artists, began to fill the small room, launching into the first number. 

I don’t want you to

Be no slave

His voice was something else. 

“Come ‘ed, come ‘ed.” John pulled you forward by your hands, though you refused to break apart your fists.

I don’t want you to

Wake all day

Normally, you would’ve had some witty question, but you just looked at him, your face in the pits of confusion. 

“Well?” Crap. You didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.

“Hear me out. Try singing to it.”

I don’t want you

To be true

“What? John, I-”

“Come, on, I know you know the words.” He wouldn’t show it, but this sly grin was his way of pleading. 

I just want to make

He seemed convinced. You relented. 

“Love to you.” You sang in unison with the record, very softly.

The guitar kicked in. Your feet began to sway. You looked at John, who’s eyes were closed for the briefest moment as he took in the music. 

“A little louder, yeah?” He cocked his head to you.

“I’d rather not make your ears bleed.” 

“It’s not about sounding good, pet.” He was a little more sage than usual. 

“I don’t want you to wash my clothes.” You were a little louder this time, though you could already feel your throat beginning to burn. 

“I don’t want you to keep our home.” A little louder. 

“I don’t want your money too.” Your voice scratched a little bit in the back. You had a fair amount of rasp as you hit the high note. 

“I just wanna make love to you, baby” You pointed at John cheekily.

Now, the guitar really began to show itself, crackling all over the rhythm. It was energetic, and you could feel your feet moving along with it, but more than that, it was visceral and raw. 

You could feel yourself ready for the next verse. John was tapping his foot and muttering along the lyrics.

“I don’t want you to cook my bread.” You had fully committed to loudly yelling one of your favorite blues songs. 

“I don’t want you to make my bed.” 

“I don’t want you because I’m sad and blue!” You hopped lightly, like you were performing on stage. 

“I just want to make love to you.” You pointed at John like you were aiming a gun. 

The guitar kicked in again, and this time you swung your feet jovially. You were a good dancer, at the very least. You moved your arms in rhythm, and pulled John into the heat with you. 

It wasn’t a great dance, nor a nice dance, but damn if it didn’t get all your energy out. 

The song faded away, but you smiled. You knew what was coming next. 

The guitar wailed. You hummed along with it. It wailed again. You were in the trance. 

Then the rhythm thumped into place. 

“Now when I was a young boy! At the age of five!” This song was great to yell along too. 

The riff thumped again. There was an external harmonica source. John was next to you, his harmonica in hand, playing along, watching you with excitement. You continued to yell the lyrics. 

Slowly, you made your way through the song, loudly declaring to whoever would listen that you were a man. You and John in the center of the room shouting, with him occasionally turning back to his harmonica. What a pair you made. 

You’d forgotten that you were even angry by the end of the song.

You could feel sweat coming down your face. You clung onto John, giving him a half hug and half grasp for stability.

The guitar announced the entrance of the next song. You were about to pull away but John’s arms tugged you a little closer. He placed his loosely around your waist. You caught on and landed yours on his neck, still holding tight on his chest. 

She moves me, man

Honey, and I don’t see how it’s done

You gently whispered the lyrics along, while John remained silent, resting his head on top of yours as you gently danced. This song was a lot slower, but still quite bluesy. 

You gently swayed, both content. 

She moves me, man

Honey and I don’t see how it’s done

She got a pocket full of money

Little doll don’t try to help me, though

“John?” Your face was still planted squarely in his chest. He smelled like sweat, but you could imagine that you did too. 

“Hm?”

“I feel better now.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled, “That used to help me a lot.”

“But you did it by yourself?” You looked up from his chest for a little bit. He was thinking.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, you won’t ever again.” You promised, before collapsing back into his chest again and pulling yourself even closer. 

He was silent. You’d caught him off guard. 

“You neither, (y/n).” He said at last, before pulling you closer. And there you stayed for a while, as the song drifted on.

She shook her finger in a blind man’s face 

“Once blind but now I see”

She moves me man

[iamtaekooked]

↳Genre: Angst (literally that’s all this is)

↳Prompt: “If you don’t hold me right now, i might just fall apart” 

↳Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Manipulation and betrayal

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

↳Synopsis: 

Jeongguk lets go of you. But when he comes back into your life for the briefest of moments he’s a little too late.

↳A/N: This is for the wonderful @gguksgalaxy for the prompt game which I was doing like months ago. I wrote this long ago and forgot to post it (big dumb energy) Sorry Gwaen. The ending made me super sad though. But I hope you like it!

{18 years of age} 

Your heart thumps in your chest as everyone slowly gets picked into the teams. This is why you hated PE. You were usually the last one to be picked because everyone knew of your thorough incapability to play any kind of sports. It was common knowledge within your high school. So when you were forced to choose physical education as an elective to complete the required credits to graduate, you had no choice but to make yourself resilient to the fact that you would always be picked last. 

It was worse because right now Jimin and Jeongguk were the captains of the dodgeball teams. As soon as he was chosen the captain of Team A Jimin had immediately looked to you and a sly smile tugged on his lips. You could see the wheels turning in his mind and you knew he was up to something. 

So as you stand in the horrible PE attire you hope Jimin chooses you because the alternative will likely end up with you passing out. You can’t be in the same team as Jeon Jeongguk because you have a massive crush on him and every time you see him you feel like you will die. Some people call it being overdramatic but you call it being a teenager with no control over her emotions. You and Gus Isaacs are the only two people left as Jimin picks one of the guys from grade 12 into his team as his second-last pick. Not you, but someone else. 

“Y/n” 

You hear your name somewhere far in the distance but ignore the call and continue ruminating and chewing on your lip in the process. 

“Y/n” you hear your name again, and this time it’s a bit clearer but you still ignore it and think you are probably hallucinating. Until Gus Isaacs elbows your side to bring you back to reality. 

You wince in pain and hold onto the spot, giving Gus the evil eye as he motions towards the front. “Jeongguk chose you to be in his team” 

You blink stupidly at him as if you can’t comprehend what he’s saying. You can’t. You hear the words ‘Jeongguk chose you to be in his team’ but they don’t connect right in your head. In fact they don’t connect at all so you miss the memo while the whole class gawks at you as you stare blankly at Gus. 

“Y/n, do you wanna join the team?” Jeongguk asks firmly and with the usual confidence he carries. 

In your repeated blinking state you turn to look ahead only to be subjected to a questioning look by Jeongguk. 

Then your vision starts blurring and the last thing you remember is a heavy feeling taking over your limbs and someone shouting your name. 

You awaken about an hour later in the school infirmary. You crack open an eye to find a boringly dull white ceiling gracing your view. You open your other eye and lower your gaze to find-

“Jeongguk?” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

Why the fuck is Jeon Jeongguk here and not Jimin? 

“I am fine” you strain as you try to get up. Jeongguk immediately places his hands on your elbows to help you sit up. You’re too wrapped up in your confusion to notice Jeongguk is touching you, otherwise, there would have been a reaction. “Where is Jimin?”

“He had to go to class and well someone needed to be here with you. So, I stayed” 

“You don’t even know me” it’s a wonder you’re able to speak at all given that you fainted because of him. But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffs in a non-condescending way. “I have had every class with you since grade 8. Of course, I know you. Plus Jimin never shuts up about you and how great you are” 

“You know me?” your eyes widen

He rolls his eyes. “Stop treating me like I am some damn celebrity. Contrary to the popular belief I am not a jerk” 

“But you are a celebrity” you mumble under your breath, sheepishly casting your gaze at your lap. 

“What?” he squints his eyes at you. 

“Nothing. You can go by the way. I am fine” you swing your legs over the bed and plant your feet firmly on the ground. You pull yourself up with effort but a light feeling runs through you and you wobble on your feet and fall back down on the tiny bed. 

“Yeah. You’re totally fine” Jeongguk muses sarcastically as he steadies you. “The nurse said you should go home. I’ll take you. Come on” 

Your muscles feel tight and you feel the tension in every limb. This is probably what your mom means when she says she’s had an arthritis flare-up. It’s definitely not a fun feeling. You can’t move a muscle as Jeongguk quietly waits for you to say something. This is the most surreal situation you have ever been in. The eighteen-year-old you, crazed by hormones and prone to fantasizing doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

“I can go home by myself” 

“Sure. If you want faint on the way and then get kidnapped by some random creepy dude. Go ahead. Eighteen-year-old girls are like a hot commodity for those psycho’s” Jeongguk says firmly, clearly trying to scare you into submission. 

“What makes you think I won’t get kidnapped if you’re with me?” you question with a slight intention of teasing. 

He looks scandalized as his nose scrunches and brows knit together so tightly you never thought it was possible for someone to be that offended. “Excuse me. Have you seen me?” 

Yes of course, you have seen him. You’ve memorized his whole fucking face and embedded it so deep into your memory you made sure that even retrograde amnesia couldn’t get rid of it. You have been looking at him from afar for so long, you know every little thing about him. 

“Just because you are slightly buff doesn’t mean you can help me” 

“Wow” his jaw drops. “I have added weights to my routine so I am way stronger than I used to be. I could protect you”

“Spoken like a true teenage guy living on testosterone” you chuckle. 

He rolls his eyes yet again. “So now that I have proven my point, can I take you home?” 

“I’ll spare your ego” your lips pull into a grin which he echoes. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and you stand firmly on the ground, waiting to feel stable before you begin walking. Jeongguk doesn’t let go eyes resting on your face as he watches you inhale slowly before nodding. 

Your skin burns, every limb feels with fiery wrath the effect of his touch. Your mouth dries, throat completely parched. Your hands become clammy as you curl your fists into the sticky palm. 

“Are you good?” he asks

You nod. “It’s alright. You can let go” 

“And have you fall and then I get blamed for it? No way” he shakes his head, resolute. 

You sigh. “Fine then. Walk me home” you say and you won’t lie that even just a little part of you is ecstatic. 

“Gladly” he greets you with a grin when you look up at him. “Where is your locker?” he asks as you both step out of the infirmary and into the quiet hall. 

“It’s okay. I can text Jimin to bring my stuff later” 

“You and Jimin that close?” he sounds resigned about it. 

“I thought Jimin talked about me” you question as you walk side by side, Jeongguk guiding you with his hand on the small of your back. 

“He says you’re friends. But he never mentioned you were close enough for him to go to your house” Jeongguk explains, his previously cheery voice slightly deflated. 

“That’s kinda hard to do when he lives just down the street and he loves my mom’s cooking” you press your lips into a thin smile. 

“Ah” he nods in acknowledgement. “Is he just a friend or…” Jeongguk trails, not really needing to go any further because it is self-explanatory. 

You reach the west side exit and step out into the cool spring afternoon with the sun shining brightly overhead. “Why are you so interested?” you cock a brow at him. 

“No reason” he shrugs. “Just wanted to know if Jimin had a girl” he waves it off casually. “Anyway, so tell me something about yourself” 

Your eyes narrow in confusion. “We’re making small talk now?” 

“I didn’t mention the weather did I?” Jeongguk chuckles. 

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

He pouts, eyes squinting as he looks into the distance. He looks cute when pouts and he does that a lot. It’s creepy that you know this but when you’ve spent a better part of your high school life fantasizing over the guy it becomes second nature after a while. 

“Tell me something Jimin doesn’t know” his eyes widen with a hint of excitement. 

“Oh, that’s hard because I tell Jimin everything” you pause, trying to rack your brain for something you have never told Jimin. 

“There has to be one thing” Jeongguk prompts. 

Your lips just out as you try really hard to think. 

Then it hits you. 

“Don’t tell him but one time when we were younger he thought he lost his favourite toy. But really I took it from him and never told him about it” 

“Wow. What a thief” Jeongguk teases with a laugh. 

“He still talks about it and it’s so awkward” you shake your head, reminiscing about the time when Jimin has mentioned his missing action figurine. 

“Why did you take it?” Jeongguk asks. 

“The day before I took it, he went off to play with some of the other kids. I was mad that I had to play alone while he was having fun with them on the roundabout, and the swings and they were running around laughing. I felt abandoned so the next day I took it and pretended like he lost it” 

“Remind me not to piss you off” he jokes, his hand which was resting on the small of your back, suddenly thrown over your shoulder. 

You look down at his hand as it dangles over your shoulder. It’s awfully intimate for two people who have just met. But you shake your head because you can’t let these thoughts limit you and freeze you up. You’re finally talking to him and you’re having a good conversation. So you can’t jeopardize this because your body automatically reacts to his touch. That can’t be why you shoot yourself in the foot, so you maintain your calm by inhaling deeply and forcing your body to relax. 

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone” you look at him, noticing how he’s chewing on his lips looking into the distance. 

He looks down at you with a soft smile. “I’ll tell you. I promise. When the time is right” 

“How is that fair?” you pout. 

“Wow child” he pinches your nose, wrinkling his own nose in a cute manner. He retracts his hand, letting it fall to his side.

“Fine. It’s not like I’ll die if I don’t know your deepest darkest secret” 

It elicits a hearty laugh from him. 

{20 years of age}

Jeongguk stands at your door, chewing on his lip as he tries to decide if he’s making the wrong move. But then he remembers he promised he’ll tell you something he hasn’t told anyone. Even if that was two years ago and he’s a little too late in keeping his promise he still needs to tell you. He doesn’t know where it’s going to head, or what exactly he’s going to say because you’re kind of his best friend and he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t care about you. 

So with a deep inhale he knocks on the door and waits. He can hear the footsteps nearing and then the door opens to reveal you. 

“Who invited you?” you joke, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. 

“I invited myself. I think I can come to my best friend’s house without an invitation. It’s kinda my right” he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple before ridding himself of his shoes and walking down the hall and falling onto the couch. 

You follow him with a shake of the head. After two years of being friends and then eventually best friends with him, you’ve made yourself five percent immune to his actions which border between platonic and romantic. You don’t think he realizes it because he always does things like holding your hand out of nowhere or kissing you on the forehead as a goodbye. 

You collapse next to him, and like a reflex, he pulls you into him wrapping an arm around your shoulder, fingers stroking the soft flesh. “I ask again you’re here because…” 

“I can’t come and see my best friend? I missed you” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes close momentarily as you cherish his touch because this is all you will get. This is as close you will be to being something more to him. 

“You can. But you just saw me five hours ago and we hung out. Now you’re here and you’re…” you look up at him and place your index finger in the middle of his forehead. “Now you’re frowning which means you’re stuck” 

“I am stuck?” he looks down at you, a soft crinkle in the corner of his eyes. 

“I mean something is bothering you” you pull your finger away and rest your hand in your lap. 

“How do you always know?” he smiles softly. 

Yeah. How do you know? 

Is it because you have loved the guy for so long or because you pay very careful attention to him? It’s not like you can tell him so you settle for-

“I just know. Now tell me what’s going on in that big head of yours” you tap his temple with your finger. 

“Okay first, I am not big-headed. Secondly, I have something to tell you” 

“Are you finally going to keep your promise from two years ago?” you shuffle your head so you can get a look at him. He’s lost in thought, a vacant expression holding his gaze away from you. 

“I am kind of dating Kira” he lets out a shaky breath. 

You pull yourself away, suddenly feeling cold all over. Your heart pounds against your chest, the rhythm thrumming so loud in your ears they start ringing. You swallow, looking into the eyes of this majestic man in front of you who has slipped from your fingers like sand. There is no hope now. He’s gone. 

But worse than that he’s dating Kira. She’s the epitome of a mean girl. Even worse. 

“Since when?” you whisper softly, feeling your heart shatter into pieces as each second passes by. 

“Four months” he replies, not meeting your gaze. “I was going to tell you but I thought I’d wait until things get serious enough” 

If there was ever any hope of recovering from this, it’s gone now. You can imagine yourself moping, and crying in the near future because you couldn’t tell him first how you felt. Maybe if you had given in to bravery instead of your fears you might have been the one dating him. 

“Why?” your heartbreak echoes in your words. You don’t know if he can hear it. You’re not even mad that he kept it from you for months. You are so severely hurt you can’t even begin to feel angry about it. It feels hollow inside, like the place where your heart should be is empty. A cold chill runs down your spine as you stare into Jeongguk’s eyes-- the ones that always feel like home-- but now they feel like a strange abyss. 

“Because she’s actually sweet. She’s nice” 

You put your feelings aside for a moment because this is bigger than you. Just because you feel like you’re suffocating sitting next to him; just because it feels like the end and just because you feel like you’ll die doesn’t mean you’ll let him ruin himself. She’s wrong for him in ways he can’t see. 

“Jeongguk. Listen, I know you think you like her. I know you think she’s nice but she’s not” 

“Please y/n” he whispers, reaching for your hand and holding it in his. “Not you. You have to side with me on this” 

“I want to. If this was someone else” your throat constricts even thinking about it. You swallow. “I would be completely happy for you. But Kira isn’t what you deserve. You deserve better. You deserve good and she’s not it” 

Jeongguk’s hold on your hand slackens. “Just because you can’t see the good in her, doesn’t mean she isn’t” 

You stare back at him, the way his jaw sets tightly, the way he’s trying so hard not to be angry at you. “I can’t. I can’t tell you what you want to hear. My job as your best friend is to save you not destroy you” 

He pulls his hand away from yours and gets up. “Whatever,” he says. “I don’t need your approval. I just thought I should tell you” 

“Jeongguk-” 

“Bye y/n” his gaze lingers on you before he walks to the front door and leaves. 

You didn’t think your friendship with Jeongguk was so fragile that it would fracture under the weight of his feelings for Kira. But since he’s actually avoiding you, you presumed wrong. He’s not been answering any of your texts or calls. He hasn’t visited you even once in the weeks after he admitted the truth to you. 

He’s vanished from your life-- like he never existed. 

It leaves a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach to know that he’s just decided not to be a part of your life anymore. You feel hurt, but more than feeling hurt you feel disappointed in yourself. Trust is a fickle thing. It’s earned through effort and broken without lifting a finger. Did Jeongguk not know that? Does he not understand that you want what is best for him? Can he really not see that you have always been on his side? 

But how do you bring someone back from the edge when they have decided to take the fall? 

“Missing your best friend?” Kira makes an unwanted appearance as your eyes focus back to reality. She’s got a sly smirk on her face. 

You roll your eyes. “I am sure you got into his head”

“He’s not a plaything. He knows what’s right and wrong for him” she folds her arms across her chest. 

“You got what you wanted. Fuck off now” you bite through clenched teeth as you gather your belongings, ready to leave. You’re almost out of the door when Kira speaks. 

“He knows you like him.” she says in a condescending tone. 

Your steps halt and so does your heart. You turn around. “Just when I thought you couldn’t sink any lower” 

She shrugs. “Your perceptions of me are your problem. Not mine” 

“A snake like you doesn’t deserve him” 

She laughs with a roll of her eyes. “You think you deserve him?” 

Your jaw sets tight as you glare at her. “I do. I deserve him because I’ve been with him through thick and thin. I’ve mended his broken heart, I’ve tended to him when he fell sick, I’ve put my life on hold to help him live his. So fuck yes I deserve him” 

She quietly observes smirk still plastered to her lips like she’s incapable of expressing herself in any other way. But then the smirk falters and sets into a frown. “Y/n please don’t” she reaches for your hands, crushing them between hers on purpose. 

“What?” your nose scrunches in confusion. 

“Jeongguk is your best friend. Don’t leave him because of me” her eyes become glossy, furthering your confusion. “I’ll break up with him” a single tear escapes her eye. 

“Wha-” 

��Kira. Dont.” a firm voice draws your attention. You turn around to find Jeongguk glaring at you. 

With quick strides, he stands between you and Kira and he tugs her hands out of yours. 

“I know you don’t like her but I never thought you would try to go behind my back and try to sabotage my relationship” Jeongguk looks at you with such venom laced eyes it pulls at your heartstrings. 

“What? I didn’t even-” 

“It’s okay kookie” Kira sniffles leaning into his chest. 

You gawk at her, blinking repeatedly at the scene in front of you. 

“Wow” your brows knit together, jaw agape as you look at her completely mortified. “She’s lying” you turn to Jeongguk. His nostrils flare, chest heaving as he stares at you--clearly not believing you, his best fucking friend of two years. He takes the word a girl he’s known for a few months. He doesn’t even need to say anything for you to know what he’s thinking. His eyes say it all, the hatred with which he’s looking at you says it all. 

“You know what Jeongguk, she’s changed you and you can’t even see it” your eyes sting with tears. You have so much to say but you bite your words because Jeongguk can’t see past his feelings. 

“You just can’t see me happy because you like me” his voice cracks, and you can see the shine overcoming his eyes before he turns away. 

Your heart sinks in your chest. It’s not what he’s saying. It’s the accusatory tone of his voice that hurts. “Well, congratulations Jeongguk. You don’t have to feel burdened by it anymore. Have a great fucking life” you bite. 

Kira looks up at you, a smile quivering on her lips. She glances up at Jeongguk who’s looking away to the side and then turns to you as she lets herself smile. She’s won. 

You turn on your heels and walk away from them-- from the pain of it all because there is no point anymore. It’s like someone has driven a stake through your heart. It would have been better if that happened because the alternative is losing your best friend which hurts more than any pain that could be inflicted on you. 

There is a sharp ache that settles in your chest as you walk away. But even as you do there is a tiny sliver of hope that he’ll call out your name and tell you to stay. Bit by bit it breaks as you step further away from him, until you are out of the door. 

But you don’t hear his voice

{23 years of age}

You didn’t think you would ever get over Jeongguk. But Jimin helped you in ways you couldn’t imagine. He never took advantage of your vulnerable state, he never inserted himself in your life when you were at your weakest. He was just there, being your friend when you realized that somehow he had pieced your heart back together without even trying. 

He never tried to get you to move on from Jeongguk. He knew you liked him-- loved him rather. He was there for the drunken nights when all you could manage were sobs because your chest felt tight, and memories of Jeongguk would come rushing back in your inebriated state. Jimin’s silence spoke volumes and even through the haze you could see how much he cared as he would silently place your head on his shoulder and hold you close. 

Since the day Jeongguk let you walk away from his life, Jimin has been there. He’s with you now, holding your hand, squeezing it tight as Jeongguk stands in front of you, puffy-eyed. Jimin slowly laces his fingers with yours, eyes never wavering from Jeongguk. The breath that has been caught in your throat finally releases and relief floods your chest. A slight ache settles deep somewhere, into far depths of your entire being and it begins to radiate until you feel a sharp stabbing sensation in your chest that has you squeezing Jimin’s hand like its your lifeline. 

“Y/n” Jeongguk’s quiet and firm voice reverberates through the air as it reaches you

Pain forgotten, your eyes find purchase on the floor. You can feel your knees beginning to give out, a slight quiver indicating that you won’t be able to stand much longer. You are suddenly steadied on your feet. You look down at your waist to find a hand resting on your side.

“I’ve got you y/n. You just have to be brave” Jimin whispers in your ear. 

You don’t know how to be brave. You thought three years was enough time to prepare yourself, to harden your heart to the fact that Jeon Jeongguk would never be a part of your life again. But maybe you never could move on. Maybe you will never be able to forget Jeongguk. Maybe you will never be strong enough to stand on your feet by yourself in front of him, and perhaps he will always be your greatest weakness. 

But he looks broken. 

As much as you did the day he let go of you without a second of hesitation. You can still remember the look of determination in his eyes, his set jaw, as he had looked away and without even a glance let you walk away from him. 

That should be enough to make all the panic go away. That should give way to anger. But all that serves to do is remind you of how much it hurt to let him go. 

“How have you been?” Jeongguk speaks but this time his voice shakes. 

You shudder. 

“I- I wanted to see you earlier but…” he trails off. 

You just have to be brave- Jimin’s voice rings in your head. 

“Let’s go Jimin” your voice is meek. Your action is anything but. 

Jimin nods and leads you, his hand still holding onto yours tightly as you begin to walk past Jeongguk. It feels slightly nostalgic--walking away from him all over again. 

“Y/n wait” Jeongguk is quick to catch a hold of your wrist just as you are passing by him. 

You’re tugged in both directions as both men hold onto your hands. You’re forced to stop and face Jeongguk. 

“You know you have some nerve Jeongguk” Jimin’s voice is firm as he grits his teeth.

“Stay out of it, Jimin. Please” Jeongguk stares intently at Jimin, but his tone isn’t hostile. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “It’s making her uncomfortable” Jimin bites back, hardly able to control his anger. It seeps through his words.

Jeongguk’s eyes shift focus to you and it’s clear as day that you are in fact uncomfortable. He notices the pained look in your face, the cloud of wispy breath fogging his view as you inhale sharply. He can see it in the way you’re avoiding him, the way your eyes are dancing around, restless and refusing to settle. 

He lets go and licks his lips. “I am sorry y/n” 

That gets your attention. It’s taken him three years to say that to you. “Sorry?” you scoff, anxiety and inhibition are forgotten as you meet his gaze.

“I know I was a dick to you-”

“You broke my heart Jeongguk. You broke--” you stop to gulp the tight knot down your throat. “You broke my heart to pieces and you didn’t even hesitate. Your ‘sorry’ won’t fix it” 

“I know. So tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it” 

“You can’t. I won’t make you feel guilty and tell you that you could have done it. I know you were in love. But were you so afraid of my feelings for you that you couldn’t even have listened to me? We could have been friends in the very least. I would have been fine with it” 

There is a pregnant pause. Jeongguk’s eyes flutter to the ground, and he chews on his lip in silence.

“I wouldn’t have been y/n” his gentle voice cuts through

“What?” 

“You’re right. The moment I found out you liked me, I freaked out. I realized something at that moment and it scared me. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I thought the best thing would be for me to let you go. Then I saw Kira crying and I thought you guys got into a fight and it gave me a reason to let you go. Otherwise, I never would have” 

You feel Jimin looking at you through the periphery. You quickly glance at him. Jeongguk lifts his head to meet your gaze. 

“What scared you?” 

“The fact that I liked you. The realization that I had--have-- always liked you scared me. It terrified me because it was too real. I could see it in my head y/n-- being with you. It was easy to imagine but I have been a commitment-phobe my entire life. I just couldn’t bring myself to” 

You gulp hard. Your mouth is dry and in the cold January morning, your hand starts to sweat. You blink profusely at Jeongguk, unable to fathom his words. Jimin squeezes your hand, reassuring you, and reminding you to stay in the moment and not get swept away in the flood of your feelings. It grounds you and enables you to look a Jeongguk without feeling like you will lose your breath at any moment. 

“I am sorry Jeongguk. You’re a little too late” you spare him one moment of a glance before turning on your heels. 

“If you don’t hold me right now, I might just fall apart” his voice squeaks. 

You halt in your steps. You pivot on your heels and face him. He stands with his head hung low, soft muffled sounds escaping his mouth, and you can see a tear fall down his cheek. You quickly look at Jimin. 

“Y/n” he says warningly. 

But you nod your head in reassurance and he loosens his grip on your hand.  

“I’d never let you fall apart Jeongguk. Never” you say quietly as you stand on your toes and wrap your hands behind his shoulders in an embrace. A moment passes as he stands limply in your arms before you feel his hands squeezing around your waist. “I know what it’s like to fall apart and feel alone. I’d never wish that for you” you hug tighter, resting your chin against his shoulder. You can hear the sound of his tears hitting your jacket, and it breaks your heart too. 

A few beats of silence pass while you hold each other. You feel the heaviness that had weighed your heart down for three years melting away. Jeongguk sniffles and steps back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“So does that mean-” you can see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“No” you say firmly, holding his hands into yours. “No Jeongguk. I won’t be able to this time” you shake your head and just like that the dull look is back in his eyes. “Look at what not being together did to us. Being together would destroy us. The possibility that it could go sideways at any moment would ruin both of us. I told you, I will not let that happen to you” your voice quivers. 

“Y/n…” 

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember Jeongguk. I still do and maybe I always will. But we can’t always have what we want, can we?” your lips curl into a faint smile. 

Jeongguk sighs heavily. Tears stream down his cheeks as they do yours. “No, we can’t” he replies, his fingers slipping through your hands. 

“Bye Jeongguk” you stand on your toes as you kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment before pulling away. 

“Bye y/n” he whispers, closing his eyes. He hears your footsteps retreat. He feels the cold breeze of wind caressing his face. He opens his eyes. 

You’re gone. 

And he is alone. 

Let me know your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading this!

[vintage-brass-tc]

4/10/2021

(( Brace yourselves for a long post. 👁 ))

I’m not sure if I gave any more context of this event either, but, last week, I and around 1-2 people from each section were invited by the directors to go help out with something in preparation for next year.

To summarize it briefly, the incoming band students would be trying out some instruments today. Due to COVID restrictions, they couldn’t play the instrument (much) and actually try it out like the usual process. The older band kids given the option to volunteer were going to be the lead examples of what an instrument sounds like.

This means they’d play for people who were interested in hearing them/trying out our instrument. In addition, we also helped make sure the crowd was settled in nicely when we weren’t occupied with said playing.

Of course, I agreed to come right away. Who would turn down a chance to hang out around their TC (ahem, and the band 😳) for a little while?

People could choose to be there for around half of the event— three hours and thirty minutes, give or take— or remain there throughout the full seven-hour duration of work.

I think you know what I’m going to say now, right? Yeah. I chose to stay and pitch in for the whole time. Needless to say, I’m pretty worn out from it all.

(Believe it or not, I practically passed out right after I wrote the previous sentence. Haha, whoops. Hello from the next day!)

Anywho, with all of the background information out of the way, let’s move on to the actual event!!

||||||||||||||||||||||||

I arrived pretty early and assisted the band directors with their setup in the school’s cafeteria. W and I didn’t talk or make eye contact very much, but that was because we were scrambling to get things like the instruments, hand sanitizer stations, music stands, etcetera prepared.

I noticed that M’s wife and daughter, who’s in my band, were here to help all day as well. It was nice to coexist and talk a little with those who M loves and adores.

From what I remember, the first time W spoke within earshot of me was when everyone was given the incentive to warm up on their instruments in the band hall.

He made a stupid joke that I don’t quite remember, but I and some others found it pretty funny. As always, he never failed to lift the room’s spirits, or at the very least my own. If what he said wasn’t enough to keep me going, the smile on his face before he left was adorable as well.

~~

Fast forward to some time later, when I was mingling with other band kids. I thought it’d be fun to join in the frenzy of various pieces being played simultaneously, but I didn’t want to move away from the group to sit down. I thought it would be pretty awkward.

After being sure I wasn’t going to cause any major damage to myself or my instrument, I challenged myself to attempt playing some music on my concert tuba while standing up. I didn’t do this often, so I thought it’d be a fun time to try.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, just as I lifted the tuba upwards, I noticed something in the eastern corner of my gaze; A pair of eyes I knew all too well were already placed on me before I had even begun getting set. My gaze flickered in the observer’s direction for less than a second.

To my surprise, since nobody was talking to him, W decided to focus on me. He was leaning forward on the table he was sat at, with his chin cupped comfortably by his right hand. He watched me with pure curiosity and interest.

I did my best not to look at him outside of my peripheral vision after that to avoid potentially interrupting his thoughts. I also didn’t want to mess up whatever music I had out either since he was listening in on it.

He observed me with this same look on his face until he shot up in his seat and looked forward. I assume there was a person who was approaching him.

Can’t help but wonder why he decided to look at me...and how long he would have been tuning into my mediocre tuba skills if someone hadn’t walked over.

~~

A student was interested in hearing me play the tuba, so I did just that. I believe I played around 6-8 measures of my solo. Despite some minor blips due to a sticking valve, I guess I did pretty decent.

I smiled sheepishly and set my tuba down after my mini performance. A subtle applause rose from the kid’s family, accompanied by a louder clapping to the right of me, which I didn’t quite acknowledge until a voice spoke up.

“Thanks Dad!!” W spoke in a slightly condescending tone while grinning from ear to ear. The sound of his loud voice startled me and I zipped my head over to him. “Wha(ha)t?” I spoke in between some surprised chuckles.

“Your Dad’s clapping...like—” He mimicked a very enthusiastic and very expressive clap for a moment before slapping his knees, leaning forward, and letting out one of his signature loud, giggly laughs. I looked at my father and we laughed along with W for a few seconds more.

After writing this, I’m just now realizing that W must have been paying pretty good attention to me and the situation I was in. I would have never noticed this if he hadn’t spoke up. Wow, haha, that’s pretty cool! (My father decided a volunteer here for a little while in case some people were curious. ^^)

~~

Not as much people wanted to hear the tuba as I thought, so I had some free time on my hands. We were told that we could no longer play out of turn since we were being too loud, so I decided to try to talk to W a little bit while I still could. I watched as he wished the last person currently in line a good day, then I began to walk over to him. As I made my way closer, he lifted his head pretty quickly, and his concentration locked on me. Judging by his serious expression, he may have thought I had an important question to ask him. That threw me off a little bit, and I got nervous.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Uh,” I started, “How‘s the thing going?” By ‘the thing’, I was referring to his job of checking people out of the school. I internally facepalmed at my phrasing.

“Good!” He turned to his computer and hesitated. “Actually, I have a favor to ask you..” I watched as he slouched down a little bit on the desk before popping back up to look at me.

W asked me if I could go ahead and get the directors’ lunch out before the kids got theirs, just in case it all ran out quickly. He then counted the directors for me and forgot to include himself, which we laughed together at after I pointed it out. I went to go grab the packages after the conversation ended.

The whole way to the band hall, where everything was located, I swam through my thoughts. I was grateful that he thought I was good enough to be trusted with keeping track of who got what, food-wise. I’m glad I could help him with that.

After a bit of explaining to some of the students why I was handling the food before lunch and taking multiple portions of it, I was off and giving everything out to the directors. M’s wife already went to get her own food somehow, and she seemed a little bit agitated when I asked if she already got her stuff.

I mean, I’d be pretty mad if someone interrupting my blissful munching moments too, so no shame there. I wonder if M messes with her while she eats sometimes. It seems like something he may do when he’s bored. Haha.

Anyway, I approached W with his stuff, but he was talking to someone, so I slowly came to a stop and just....stood there. Luckily, the guy mentioned I had W’s food, so he looked over. “Thanks R,” he smiled. “Is that all?” He looked at what remained in the bag. “Yep.” I told him that M’s wife had already gotten her stuff beforehand, and he nodded.

After I handed the items to him, he thanked me again. I acknowledged his thanks with a smile before letting him continue talking. A few minutes later, he began to eat.

Can I just point out that the way he eats is so...amusing? It’s like he pays no attention to those around him, instead focusing on engulfing the food in front of him with huge bites at a time. He leaves a mess too while doing this sometimes.

While he’s nomming the stuff down, he uses that time to scan the room with curious eyes. I assume it’s to see if anyone was looking at his Jurassic munching techniques.

Call me weird, but it was all so cute in a way. I had a very tough time directing my eyes off of him at first, but I forced myself to. He was looking near my direction anyway, and I didn’t want him to be like ‘??? R, why are you watching me eat?’. 😳 so yeah

~~

About an hour or so after this lunch incident, I was talking to M’s daughter and someone else. We were chatting casually about something related to our instruments. I just started getting into the conversation when I heard a loud voice call out my name.

“R.” W called from behind me. I perked up, shocked, and stopped talking as soon as his voice rang in my ears. The two people I was speaking to looked in his direction and I followed suit with their action, twisting my body backwards as quick as possible. “Come here.”

He stood there very still, facing me with a serious expression, and I was quite intimidated by this. There was nobody inside a 7-foot radius of him, which further intensified the situation for me. Within another heartbeat, butterflies were swirling in my stomach. I turned back to the two girls and apologized before walking over to see what was up.

I stopped just shy of an arm’s length away from him and met his strong gaze with a face that silently urged him to go on. “I’m going to go to the restroom,” he told me, dipping his upper torso and head down to make his look appear more firm. I responded by lifting my chin up and looking down at him with the same amount of seriousness.

“I need you to stay here and watch. If anyone comes, tell them to wait for me, okay?” He had a hint of a pleading tone in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. “Got it.” I told him. “Sorry!!” He exclaimed in a high-pitched whisper to me as he ran off to the other room. “Not a problem!” I yelled back.

I watched him dash out of the cafeteria doors and halt to a walking pace while he exchanged a couple words with the check-in volunteers. I stopped watching him when he began to walk towards the males’ bathroom again.

I was, again, honored that W trusted me enough to handle something like that. Even if it was a small task like the one he asked from me earlier on, he could have had anyone else do it, but he decided I was reliable enough to. I thought that was pretty cool.

Anyway, I stood there for a bit and noticed a phone faced down on the table. I assumed immediately that it was his, and I observed its beautiful casing. It was decorated with a light gray and white array of lines that sort of gave me a forest vibe.

I never expected something as toned down and serene as this was from him, especially with his crazy energetic attitude I know him from, but it was a very nice sight. I didn’t stare at his phone any further in case anyone thought I was going to snoop or something weird like that.

A family came up and I told them that W would be back in a bit. We chatted for a little while about some band-related stuff until W speed-walked back in. I ended our conversation abruptly before looking at him.

“Thank you so much for your help, R.” He told me sincerely while I stepped out of his way. I didn’t pay attention in the moment to how close we were, but it was definitely very close, somehow still barely avoiding contact. “Sure!” I beamed joyously as my gaze lingered.

“Your phone was going off for twenty minutes,” he told me before he sat back down in his chair. My face widened. “I was??” I paused. “I mean, it was??” He didn’t respond to my slightly panicking tone. Instead, he sat still where he was silently, staring at the person I was just talking to.

“Sorry,” I lightly apologized before heading back to where I had my stuff set up. I checked my notifications didn’t see anything new, so I was pretty confused. Maybe he was trying to get me to go away or something, hence the effort on his face to not respond. 😳

~~

The last thing here was just me wishing him a good weekend, and him saying “thank you for helping“, with me thanking him back afterwards.

Overall, this day was great. My arms are so sore from hauling the extra instrument cases around(the tuba cases for newcomers are unbelievably heavier than my current one), but the moments I shared with W and the band made it so worth it. ^^

Hope everyone’s having a great weekend and staying safe.

[loverontheleft]

Long anon has thoughts and I’m here to reply but also I’m fucking wasted

Okay, different anon, but I love giving unsolicited advice (joking, joking... kind of), so I had to chime in. Plus I think I’ve read RtL like 2 or 3 times in full now (way more if you count all the times I’ve read a chapter because of the sex scene and then just kept reading after that), so I’m very invested. God you’re better than me. I didn’t mind chapter 30. It wasn’t my personal favorite scene (that’s just really not my jam, if I wanna revel in the angst, I prefer the later chapters), but with some tweaks I do think it was a good addition. Like, it did give the relationship a little more, I’m not sure if this is the right word, respectability? Realism? Weight? It showed that they’re not just clouded by lust or the honeymoon phase. Which is where I get into the conflict of fanfic imagine writing vs fiction writing. Most fanfic readers seem like they don’t want the plot and the character growth and the realism. The point is fantasy. I can do that short-term, but in a long-haul series like this…angst is necessary. Tension is necessary. Their relationship doesn’t exist in this perfect little bubble, it’s “perfect” because they’re really compatible, and that’s even more important than love in a longterm relationship. It showcased how much Brendon is devoted to his work, which is one of the reasons the reader loves him, but it has the real possibility of causing real issues that they need to address and work through. Now, again, it needs a little work. I don’t love that B basically accused the reader of being intentionally malicious, and I also don’t love that she was more of the victim rather than it being a two-way conflict. I think it could’ve had more of a build-up (I know you said you sort of wrote this without a plan so it makes sense that the build-up wasn’t as much as I think it needed to be, but, hey, that’s the beauty of rewriting it.) and oh rewriting it will be a thing eventually. Like she doesn’t love that he’s overworking and she brings it up a few times throughout like 3 to 5 chapters before nationals, and it sort of gradually goes from the reader going, “hey I think your hyperfocus on your job is starting to affect both your quality of life and our relationship” (obviously in a way that’s more writer-y and less information dump-y lol) to “I’m starting to feel like a toy you play with when you’re interested and completely ignore when you have homework.” And then Brendon’s responses starting at, “oh I’m sorry, babe, I’ll manage my time a bit better,” all the way to, “why don’t can’t you respect my career?” Then in chapter 30, it all comes to a head and they full on fight instead of the previous semi-passive-aggressive communication they had before. I like you; you understand what my brain is trying to do with this rewrite.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, as much I think fighting and arguing can be healthy and necessary, I HATED the fight in chapter 19 (at least I think it’s 19. The one where he’s like, “just talk to him, you’re being crazy”). No it’s totally bullshit I hate it too; even writing it I was like ughhhh. I love your work and I don’t want to be rude, but this is just how I feel about one chapter in an otherwise beloved series. It’s not rude; that was jammed in there for the plot and god I hated it then and I hate it now it’s just bad writing. It’s that I just think it was so out of character, for both of them to some extent, but especially Brendon it was. Maybe it’s just the reader projecting her ex onto Brendon when she’s feeling distressed, so that’s why he seems SO different from the way he was in previous chapters (hell, even earlier in that chapter no it took a sharp left turn it’s a bad chapter) and than every other chapter afterward which okay can we agree Chapters 18-26 are whaaaat is happening and 27-31 are ?? and 32 is steamy forgiveness and then 33-36 are smut but so little plot and…oh god I have so much to rewrite I’m gonna cry but he’s so fiercely passionate and protective over, not just the reader, but sort of everything that he cares enough to invest time into (teaching, music, the reader, lovemaking 😏😂, etc.) that don’t think he would’ve proposed talking to the ex at all, much less become all cold and calculating and downright rude when talking to her. I almost think it would be more realistic if she said, offhandedly, “maybe I’ll just talk to him, try to get rid of him, give him some money, I just want this over with,” and Brendon AT THAT POINT would be like, “no absolutely not, you’re being crazy/irrational .” And then it would turn into a big fight because the reader not only feels condescended and invalidated, she’s starting to feel controlled and smothered, which in conjunction with all the feelings that have been brought up with the ex in town, makes her feel like she just needs to get away from B. I guess that wouldn’t have the same effect later on at the end with the lockdown drill which I really want to cut, good lord Cece it was so extra wtf (full disclosure: at the time of writing, the school where I was a teacher had an active shooter in the area but not on campus, so I was probably processing that?? See my note below about writing as therapy), but it would still kind of work. Instead of B realizing that the reader was right about the ex, it would be the reader realizing that B really just cares for her wants what’s best for her, and ofc B would have to apologize for saying that the reader’s crazy because that’s sooo shitty. Actually, now that I think about it, that might be more effective. Other than that one argument, there wasn’t a big question of whether or not B respected the reader and her judgment, but with the ex showing up, the reader was getting scared about being in another serious relationship and being so dependent on someone else oh definitely. Doesn’t help I was using writing as my therapy since I was very out of a mentally abusive six-year relationship. I just peppered in my own trauma left and right (drunk Cece put left and write at first lmao) and left the characters to figure it out and that’s not fair to y’all so it would be much better narratively to confirm to the reader that she can trust Brendon and that he cares for her even if he messes up rather than to just have an argument that gets resolved. Which would work too if it weren’t for the fact that the characters and dialogue were so off, just maybe not quite as well. Lots of changes to be made; you’re not wrong.

Okay, I’m sorry for talking your figurative ears off omg no I love it this is a craft revision and I’m so here for it. Feel free to say I’m way overstepping because, well, I am, but I’m a fan okay!!! Idk if you’re overstepping I’m too drunk but I don’t deserve fans I’m crying yall are so wonderful And I overthink EVERYTHING, so there’s that too haha same though. These are just things to consider and jumping off points, so don’t let it change whatever you have planned. I’m sure it’ll be great, and frankly, I mostly read for the smut anyway so I don’t know why I’m so invested in the plot LMAO this is why I’m worried about Dulce being a slow burn y’all just want the smuuuut and @beautiful-tragic-fallout can tell you there’s a huge difference between my fanfic writing and my fiction writing though you’d think they’d be similar. Maybe I’ll just write it as a novel, never post it here, hope it sells, and one day y’all can be like “this book plot sounds familiar… I remember this slut who wrote a bunch on tumbl—wait, is this author actually Cece?!?” Because, reminder, Cece is an abbreviation of my second middle name and very few people actually know it at all and my published fiction writing isn’t under Cece (I’m mostly joking, but really, as long as the porn’s good, you could write anything well, thank you.) I’m sure this whole ask is riddled with typos and forgotten words and bad grammar (brevity has never been my strength), so I’d also like to apologize for all that. Listen I’m so drunk right now…I didn’t even notice. And my responses probably are too.

[liquorisce]

decisions, decisions pt 2

Fandom : Bleach 

Pairings : Ichihime (ft. some ichi x ishi bickering which we love around here)

Rating : T

Part 1

A/N: A few months ago I wrote a post-tybw-karakura-gang-finishes-high-school kinda thing called ‘decisions, decisions’  ft career choice discussions and orihime thinking of leaving town for uni. I wanted to write some more of that stuff and more ichihime pining obvs, so here it is. also i hate myself for not being able to participate in ichihimeweek2020, i suck, but anyway, ‘nuff with the nonsense, here’s the fic: 

(ps: pls be nice to me and like/reblog/comment or whatevs and tell me what u think, ily thx)

...

It’s five minutes to two, and Ichigo fought to stifle a yawn. The menacing five hundred pages of English grammar exercises in front of him wasn’t helping. 

“... Unbelievable,” he curses, slamming the book shut, much to the annoyance of his bespectacled classmate sitting across him. “Why the hell can’t they just teach us proper English in school?! I’m absolutely fucking positive that Honda-sensei didn’t mention more than three tenses in her class. And what kind of English lesson takes place in Japanese anyway?!” 

“... Quit your whining, Kurosaki. Some of us are trying to study here.” 

Ichigo fumed. By ‘some of us,’ Ishida was pointedly referring to just himself and the long-haired beauty sitting right opposite him, who, judging by her giggling at his outburst, welcomed his distraction. The same giggling that was contributing to the problem, contributing to Ichigo’s immense distraction since after dinner. 

“You’re not even human, Ishida,” he says dismissively. “Keigo’s literally made his bed on my dad’s couch, you can hear his goddamn snores, and Mizuiro left to ‘watch the stars’ with some new girl thirty minutes ago.” 

“You’re the one who invited us over to your place for an all-nighter group study session and you’re calling it quits before the sun is up? As expected, you’re weak.” 

He was right, this had been Ichigo’s idea, Yuzu had offered to make them dinner and his dad had plans tonight, so they were guaranteed some peace and quiet. Despite the noise and the chaos of their group, he missed hanging out with his friends. Ever since the school had given them voluntary study holidays for the upcoming University Entrance Exams, he didn’t get to see much of everyone, as they were either studying or training for competitions. Even today, Tatsuki and Chad left after dinner because they had to get up early for practice and they had decided they wouldn’t be giving the exams anyway. 

Ignoring Ishida’s pointed attempts to rile him up, he turns his attention to Orihime, who despite enjoying their banter, was more focused on the cram book in front of her.  

“Inoue, how are you still so motivated and so… awake?,” he asks, exasperated. “It’s almost 2 am! And you’ve been scribbling away furiously for the last thirty minutes. What are you even studying?”  

“Mouuu, you’re right. I’m not able to solve this proof anyway. Maybe I should call it a night?”

“Electromagnetism?” Ishida asks, skimming the title of the chapter, “Oh, I’ve done this one, I can explain this to you if you want.”  

He doesn’t know what irritates him more, Ishida’s nerdiness, or the soft look in his eyes as he unfailingly offers to help Orihime out, as he’d been doing a lot more of late, ever since they had started studying for the entrance exams together. In fact, it’d been this way this entire evening, starting from when he took a seat right next to her at the table as if he fucking belonged there, leaning over into her notebook, whenever she needed help, his arm casually brushing against her long, silken locks, her answering smile bright and incredibly close to him, and - Ichigo forces that thought to a halt because it has him gritting his teeth.  “... For God’s sake, give her a break,” - 

“... Shut up, Kurosaki, not everyone is applying to study *English* in University”- 

“And what exactly do you mean by that, asshole?” Ichigo snarls, with more venom than needed, because despite having had enough with Ishida’s condescending attitude towards his study choices, his recent behaviour had Ichigo prickling under his skin.  

“... Err, Kurosaki-kun…” Orihime starts, because she’s used to Ichigo and Ishida arguing (they’re just being affectionate, she always insists), there’s a glint in Ichigo’s eyes that’s different.

“... Exactly what I said, some of us don’t have the luxury of skipping the math and science exams,” - 

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun is right! I think my brain really can’t function anymore tonight,” Orihime declares loudly, inserting herself in between them. “Kurosaki-kun, I think I will leave now. Thank you so much for hosting us today.” She bows, her formality annoying him even more, but still throwing him off guard.

As always, Orihime’s pleasant demeanour diffused the rising tempers… somewhat. With one last glare, Ishida grudgingly agreed, “Then I guess I will take my leave as well.” 

Ichigo wants to be polite and say something like, “we should do this more often,” but he’s pissed off, and couldn’t wait to be rid of Ishida’s arrogant mug, so instead he offers, “Inoue, can I walk you home?” 

He doesn’t notice the faint red on her cheeks or the hesitation on her face, when she mumbles, “If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” And he’s torn again - tearing his eyes away from the pretty blush dusting her cheeks unable to stop himself from wondering bitterly if she’d let Ishida walk her home without much protest.

“Ishida lives in the other direction and it would be out of his way, so I don’t mind.” 

“Well then,” Ishida says, looking at her with more fondness than Ichigo would have liked, “Your eyes are all red and puffy. Sleep well. Don’t strain yourself, okay?”

“Yes sir,” she gives him the salute, “... good night!” 

“... And text me that you got home safe. This idiot can’t be trusted with anything,”- 

“... for fuck’s sake, just go home already!” 

“Kurosaki-kun,” she whispers, amused, as she watches Ishida walk away with a cheeky grin on his face, “you’ll wake the neighbours with your angry yelling.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly, as their footsteps fall into place beside each other, “I’m sorry for all the swearing, I don’t know why I let Ishida under my skin so much.”   

“Hmmm,” she says, “It’s kind of cute, your bickering. If this were a yaoi novel, I’d totally ship it!” 

“... what the hell?!” His face is red, not just because the thought of him… and Ishida… Ew. But also because this is coming from Orihime, the last person he’d ever expect to engage in fantasies of this sort.

Giggling, she quickly switches to a more somber note. “You seemed... on edge today. Did something happen between the two of you?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. Truth be told, he’s barely able to understand it himself. Sure, there was the usual trading of insults that took place between the two of them, but it was different this time. His whole demeanour just pissed him off. The way he always seemed to know what Orihime was asking, the way he was always able to help her, the familiar way he spoke to her… and the revelation that they’d been studying together for weeks now! 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, because he can’t even explain what he is feeling, let alone the reason behind it, “... I guess it’s just the stress of the exam.” 

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she whines, “I’m so thankful Ishida-kun is giving the same exams as me, and we can share practice questions and tips. I really wouldn��t be able to do this alone.” 

He ignores her mention of him and the tick in his jaw in reaction. “But I don’t get it. You’re giving almost all the exams. Why?!? There’s surely no need.” 

She blushes, ashamed, “I know it sounds stupid, but I really haven’t decided what I want to study in University. I figured if I just gave all of the exams, I would have more options to choose from.” 

“... Come on,” - 

“... And I will also prefer to go wherever I get a scholarship.”  

His fist clenches, “... So you’re definitely applying outside of Karakura?” 

“Yeah, although I’m not sure if there’s any point. It’s so difficult to aim for the National Universities, I’ll never get through. But the counselor says it’s worth a shot for the scholarship.”

“... I thought your aunt was helping you with tuition?” 

“... Only till high school. And I cannot burden her anymore. I’ve received so much from her already.” 

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way her voice wavers at the end, the guilt evident in her words. And he can’t stand it. “... Cheer up,” he says softly, playfully elbowing her. “You’re one of the smartest kids in school. Rank #2 after all the shit we went through last year! If anyone can do it you can.” 

“... You think so?” she mumbles, looking up at him, her insecurities heartbreaking in the grey of her eyes.  

Everything about her is so honest, it hurts him a little bit because his first thought is to say no, to talk her out of it, because the revelation is too sudden, too jarring - he can’t bear  the thought of this town without her. But he nods, smiles encouragingly, because that’s just way too selfish.

Shaking his head out of these thoughts, he asks, “... what was the counselor’s recommendation, again? As a career path?” 

“Ah, Hirata-san said maybe I should just follow my love for baking,” she says, smiling. 

“... and? Why don’t you consider that? You wouldn’t have to give these blasted exams then.” 

He liked the idea of this, now more than before, momentarily regretting his role in convincing her to apply to university. Orihime working in the local bakery, coming around his house everyday to share the leftovers, staying back for dinner maybe… 

“... but Kurosaki-kun was the one who said I wouldn’t be very good at it!” She pouts, “You said I’d make too many things in weird flavours and nobody would want to buy them.” 

Crap. He truly felt like waltzing back in time and whacking the past version of him for saying something like that.  Because if it were anyone else shitting all over Orihime’s dream, he’d have sent the punk flying. Where were all these feelings coming from anyway?! 

“... Shit, I didn’t mean,” - 

“... it’s okay, you’re right. And besides I can work there part-time through University. I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. “Well, actually, it was Ishida-kun’s idea. Maybe I could study to become a doctor? My strength is in healing people anyway…” 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well of course, he'd say that. He's going to study medicine too." And of course he would try to talk Orihime into it. The bastard had taken every opportunity to slither by her side - 

She laughs, a pretty sound, interrupting the profanity in his mind. "Yeah, he did say it would be nice to have some company… but I'm not sure." Sighing, she asks, "How did you decide on English Studies?" 

It wasn't too difficult for him honestly. It helped that he was fairly certain he didn't want to study math or science going forward. "... I like stories. And I want to be able to read and share stories in a global medium, so I decided to study English." 

He looks at her only to find her looking at him in fascination, "... Truth be told, I didn't spend too much time thinking about it. The career aptitude test returned similar results as well, so I just went with it." He shrugs, "I think I'll enjoy it. Let's see." 

"Ahh, you sound so optimistic about your studies, Kurosaki-kun. I wish I could be like that." 

They've reached her apartment building now and she turns to look at him, wistfully. He wishes he could do something for her, ease her anxieties in some way. 

"What about you?" He asks. 

She looks at him, puzzled.  

"... You've told me all about what everyone wants you to do. What do you want to do? I'm sure you must have some inkling." 

“... I,” she stops, opens her mouth again to say something, but nothing comes out. “... what I want… ah, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” She smiles wistfully to herself, because this wasn’t something that she’d ever admitted out loud.

He rolls his eyes, “... Try me.” Because she was many things, and yes, definitely silly sometimes in that unique way of hers, but he would never, could never, call her dreams silly. It’s a moment of realization for him, when he gets angry with the way she dismisses her own dreams that way, and he feels overwhelmed with the desire to pick them up, and keep them safe where no one can trample them, along with that spaced-out, wistful smile of hers. 

“Well,” she gulps, nervous, “I’ve never really thought too much about going to university. Sensei says I’m wasting my potential... but honestly, I think I’ll be happy working.” 

She looks at him unsurely, waiting for a reaction, an opinion, like everyone else. Everyone who’d been urging her to continue school and pursue all kinds of studies that she could possibly do, but… “I just - I want to build a simple life with someone I love. A family, maybe, someday.” 

It comes out so fast, she wishes she could grab the words and shove them back in her mouth. She chances a glance at him, her cheeks hot and furiously embarrassed. 

His expression is unreadable as he gazes down at her. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, he thinks, and it isn’t really a revelation to him, but the melancholy of her beauty is, the loneliness that he wishes he could extinguish as easily as he does hollows. “A simple life huh…” he murmurs. And he can almost picture it, Orihime, ten years from now, a child in her arms, a little boy maybe, with her wide brown eyes and - 

“Well, looks like you have planned it out better than any of us,” he manages hoarsely, unable to look her in the eye anymore. Not with all these… feelings simmering so close to the surface. And before he can help himself, “Do you already know who this mystery man is?” 

He’s come to realize how absolutely unequipped he is to hear the answer, but her unassuming statement has already taken residence inside him somehow, a burning sensation accompanying it. 

 His question jolts her into consciousness, and she notices they’re almost at her apartment. “Ah Kurosaki-kun is very curious today,” she laughs nervously, “only one confession per day! That’s the limit!” The fake cheer in her voice grates in her own ears but she hopes desperately it will steer him away because she’s this close to telling him sometimes, and this was one of those times. Especially in these rare moments when she feels an odd mixture of weakness and greed, where she wants to latch on to him and ask him to stay by her side, hoping selfishly that his kindness will make him say yes. But Orihime was practiced at hiding those feelings away. 

 “Is that right,” he smiles teasingly, albeit weakly, “... I didn’t know you were so mysterious, Inoue. Well goodnight, then.” 

And as he watches her climb up the stairs to her floor, and then lean over the railings to wave goodbye one more time, he can’t help but think of that image of her again, happy and in love and so beautifully fulfilled. And he thinks of the shadow of the man next to her, who will protect that dream and that smile, and his stomach clenches bitterly. 

“You deserve it,” he whispers to her retreating figure, “... You deserve all of it.”

- fin - 

A/N : The ending was cheesy, I KNOW UGH

[nitewrighter]

The Truth Has Two Faces Part 2

Amari Fam feels for #AmariAppreciationWeek!

Read Part 1 Here

----

The trek from the watchpoint apartments to the labs and administrative building had felt unnaturally long that morning, as if every step was offering her the chance to turn back to her apartment, or veer off to the training area in the hangar to blow off steam. She saw Genji meditating in his usual spot on the cliffs, Brigitte hunched over the popped hood of the watchpoint’s sole, miraculously still-running truck, but the watchpoint was never that crowded--not when a handful of Overwatch’s members were always off doing a mission in some far-flung corner of the world. Zenyatta, McCree, D.Va, and Tracer, noticeably, were gone, and the gap left by the orca filled the tarmac with a near-blinding morning light reflecting off the sea as Pharah went up the steps to the main building built into the rock of Gibraltar itself. 

Satya was in the lab, talking with Winston and Torbjörn, and displaying a hard-light projection of the watchpoint with several areas highlighted in blue. Pharah wasn’t sure whether she was suggesting them as potential areas in need of refurbishment, or vulnerable points in Watchpoint security, but both Torbjörn and Winston were listening to her intently. Those gold eyes flicked to Pharah as she walked past, then flicked to the stairs Pharah was headed towards. Towards Athena’s primary server and the offices Jack and Ana had more or less requisitioned. Satya gave a nod, but Pharah wasn’t sure if it was to her or to something Winston or Torbjörn had said. She liked to think it was for her, but at the same time, too many words were running through her own head to dwell too much on it. She headed up that other flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway before reaching the room where Athena’s main server was. She could already hear Ana and Jack’s voices on the other side of the door. She took a deep breath before putting her hand on the panel next to the door. It slid open with a whoosh and both Jack and Ana cut themselves off at the sound, looking up at her from their own holo-table.

“Mum,” it felt a little odd to be saying it, the word felt heavy in the air, “Can we talk?”

“Of course--” the words came too quickly out of Ana.

“We’ll be back later,” Pharah said to Jack. He gave her a nod. With half of his scarred face illuminated by the glow of the holo-table, Pharah, like pretty much everyone else on the watchpoint, had to consciously remind herself that he wasn’t the strike commander any more. The truth was their contact had been pretty minimal since he and Ana had joined after the incident at Volskaya. Pharah assumed that was because she punched him in the face at her mother’s funeral, her mother who was walking toward her now. And now, since she had started out not wanting to talk to Ana, he probably had the good sense to keep out of it. Or maybe the search for Reaper was all that mattered to him. Either way, he returned his attention to the holo-table, and Ana kept a tight stoic face as she closed the distance between her and her daughter, but there was something vulnerable flickering in that one remaining eye.

She’s bracing herself, thought Pharah, Probably thinks I’m going to tear into her again. 

And Pharah had to consciously tell herself that she wasn’t going to do that as they headed out of the office. Pharah also knew stress was speeding up the pace of her feet, as Ana trailed shortly behind, apparently trying to gather her words.

“Fareeha, I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is that---” Ana started but Pharah stopped walking.

 “Just... give me a minute, okay?” she said, pivoting on her foot to look at Ana before resuming walking.

They walked on in silence, taking an exit out to the veranda overlooking the watchpoint, where Ana and Jack often talked when the offices seemed too cloistered. The morning was now brightening up into full daylight, but the yellow tinges of the golden hour still seemed to hang in the light off the sea. Pharah raked her fingers through her hair, the gold beads at her temples clicking.

“Okay, look...” said Pharah, “Here’s what this isn’t, okay?”

“What this... isn’t?” Ana started, her brow crinkling.

“This isn’t where we solve all of our problems and cry and hug each other, and everything is good forever,” said Pharah.

“...I... never thought it was,” said Ana, glancing off.

“There’s a lot to unpack,” said Pharah.

“I know.”

“A lot to unpack,” Pharah emphasized.

Ana just nodded and Pharah felt a heat rising in her chest. 

“And I don’t want you to just...” Pharah sucked in a breath, “Lie down and take it and treat it like I’m just getting my frustrations out because that’s easier than actually looking at yourself. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and even though I’m your daughter, I’m an adult. And I want you to treat this like just as much as you’re hearing it from a peer as your daughter. Yes, I am emotional, but I’ve also taken a long time to figure out what I want to say.”

A muscle twitched in Ana’s jaw at the thought. “Very well,” she said folding her arms.

“So, to start off, I shouldn’t have been avoiding you the way I was back when you first joined the Watchpoint. I was angry, and it was childish. I wanted to inflict the pain you put me through on you for that pain’s sake. It was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” said Ana. ‘I forgive you’ felt too condescending at this point. Obviously, like Pharah said, she wasn’t going to lie back and simply take it, but she also knew a lot of this was a long time coming.

“The truth is, I was also dealing with... a lot of frustration about why now, why finally now you decided to join,”  Pharah leveled her brown eyes at Ana,  her brow set with determination, “You only joined when you realized operating independently of each other made us liabilities to each other... if the situation hadn’t gotten as dire as it had back there, you wouldn’t have even come back with them, would you?”

That’s their mission. We focus on our own. Jack had said.

Do you think Fareeha’s with them? Ana remembered her own response. Emotional. Distracted. Maybe if she had focused more--no--that was her daughter. Her daughter who was in Overwatch. In Overwatch despite everything she had done. In Overwatch despite Overwatch literally collapsing. Why wouldn’t she wonder if she was there? Why shouldn’t she---? What would she have done if Fareeha was there?

“...I don’t think I would have come back, no,” said Ana.

Pharah’s face scrunched up. “This is what I’m talking about!” she said, bringing her hands up, “You keep acting like suddenly you were completely alone after losing your eye!”

“You never responded to my letter!” said Ana.

“You thought a LETTER was enough after letting me think you were dead for years!” Pharah snapped, “You wrote a letter because you’re willing to chase down terrorists all over the world, but you couldn’t face me or dad! And did you even hear yourself in that letter?! ‘The world thought I was dead, I thought that was for the best.’ ‘I’ve buried those closest to me.’ ‘I cannot stop fighting, not while people are waiting for me.’ Like I’m not close to you? Like I haven’t spent my whole life waiting for you!? It sounded like you had no intention of ever seeing me again, like you thought you were going to die in battle and there was nothing I could do to stop you! That’s a great letter to get after already mourning you!” Pharah was breathing hard but she caught herself. A bitter chuckle shook her breath. “And sure. Let me write you back. Where should I have addressed it? 1800 ‘Squatting-in-the-Necropolis’ boulevard?’ You were living like a post-apocalyptic wanderer! You didn’t want me to write back. You only wrote to relieve your own guilt.” 

“Fareeha--” Ana started but her own voice trailed off. She never thought of her letter as something so callous, but she supposed, with how long she had gone since talking to Pharah, that such a breakdown in communication wasn’t hard to imagine. And getting the letter itself out was enough of an emotional labor on her own end--it took so much energy to come to terms with and articulate those feelings, it already felt so raw and vulnerable that it didn’t occur to her that it sounded like a final goodbye. And when she was already dodging watchlists from Volskaya and various other criminal organizations... why would she expect Pharah to be able to track her down, when Helix literally had wanted posters of  the Shrike?

Another bitter laugh, more out of discomfort than any humor, shook Pharah’s voice. “You were in Giza. You had no problem tracking down dirtbags like Hakim, but I had an address. I had an apartment. You could have seen me at any time. You could have had a bed.”

“I would have compromised your work with Helix,” Ana managed, remembering her Shrike mask on wanted posters.

“No one would know! No one saw your actual face!” said Pharah, “You saw Angela. But not me. What does that tell me?”

Ana’s mouth was hanging open, her jaw shaking a little with no words coming out of her throat. 

“Angela told you about that?” said Ana quietly.

“Before she left,” said Pharah, “She stayed long enough to see me back from Vancouver and make sure things were stabilized after the Talon attack, but she was already packing up.”

“Did you two talk often, when she was doing her relief work there?” said Ana, not necessarily trying to derail the conversation, but willing to take a bit more context as relief from Pharah’s barrage. She knew Angela had no small amount of resentments toward her as well, especially with the biotic rifle.

“She butted heads with me and my coworkers when Helix had to investigate a lead at the refugee camp,” Pharah huffed, “Tried to patch things up later, but we didn’t talk much after that.” Too painful a reminder of everything you blocked me from, thought Pharah, Too resentful of you and the organization herself, but playing diplomat for my sake. Giving me crap about you being proud of me when everything I accomplished was in spite of your efforts. She didn’t know you and she doesn’t know me. Pharah decided to leave out the part where seeing Mercy’s apartment also left too much of an uncomfortable association with Ana. A more academic version of Ana, but all the trauma and still-unpacked boxes all the same. Someone ready to flit off to the next big problem in the world if it meant not having to open up those boxes. Pharah was already tired. She was already so tired of saying all these things that had been percolating in her for years. “...for what it’s worth,” she managed to dredge the words up out of herself, “I’m glad she let me know you were there.”

“So you could further justify your grievances?” said Ana, already weary.

“...so I knew you weren’t dead,” said Pharah. Ana’s lips tightened. She kept forgetting that. Kept forgetting that Fareeha had fought her own battles, that the months of silence between them were filled with unsureness for Ana’s own safety, especially after a letter that told Fareeha that she was still fighting. She thought Fareeha’s resentment had shielded her from the pain and worry of their separation, but it didn’t. It only deepened that pain with anger and guilt. They both fought to relieve guilt over fighting. A serpent eating its own tail.

Ana glanced off. “With... with Hakim I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Mum,” Pharah pressed her fingertips to her forehead, “I was in special forces. I could handle it.”

Ana’s lips thinned. “I don’t think of you as a soldier. I think of you as my daughter. I never wanted you to see my fights as yours.”

“I know,” Pharah said quietly, “But... when you’re young, and your mom is off fighting, it’s... very easy to assume, ‘Oh, if I fight too, maybe I’ll see her.’ And being blocked from joining Overwatch... I couldn’t not take that personally.”

“I know we’ve gone through this before but... I didn’t trust myself or other members of the old strike team not to engage in nepotism--we did practically all raise you,” said Ana, “And I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, whether under my orders, or any of theirs.”

“I figured,” said Pharah.

“But you’re here now,” said Ana, “And... you’re brilliant. I haven’t been here long, but I can see that this is who you’re meant to be.”

“And I’m glad I managed to develop those skills outside Overwatch,” said Pharah, “...I don’t know who I’d be if I had everyone fawning over me, over who my mom is.” 

“And you didn’t go down with the ship,” said Ana with a wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Pharah chuckled and scoffed a little. “But even back in Helix they still talked about you. It was easier... when I thought you were gone...” her voice got misty, “And I hate that. When you were gone, I just got to remember all of the good things, how much of a hero you were, but when you came back,” Pharah sucked a breath in through her teeth, “Everything you ever did that hurt me came bubbling up. I didn’t want to give you the luxury of being something you could pluck off the shelf and dust off and forgive yourself with.”

Ana winced a little at this. “And you didn’t,” she managed, her own voice clouding up.

“But... I don’t know how much more I could hurt you than you’ve already hurt yourself,” her lips tightened, “I love you, Mum. And loving you is so hard sometimes, because you give so much of yourself away that I never know what I’ll have left,” her breath hitched, her voice cracking a little, “And I wonder, sometimes, how many more times I’ll lose you.”

Ana cupped a hand to the side of Pharah’s face and Pharah squeezed her eyes shut at the warmth of her palm, a tear budding out from her dark eyelashes and running briefly down the line of her wadjet tattoo. Ana put her other hand on Pharah’s shoulder and Pharah caught her wrist, wary. Strong. Of course she was. But then Pharah’s hand brushed up Ana’s arm and Pharah slumped into an embrace, fierce and tight, yet so tired from the weight of her own words. 

“And I was so afraid of losing you,” Ana said quietly, “That I pushed you away. Further. And further. And further.” She brushed a hand down Pharah’s back. “You were never something to be plucked off a shelf... but... my own memory kept freezing you in time. There is so much I blinded myself to in trying to protect you. In fighting for you. I blinded myself to you. Shored myself up against your pain as if it was my own. And... I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. But we’re fighting together now.” A sigh escaped her, “And as much as that terrifies me...” Her fingertips pressed hard against Pharah’s shoulder blade, “I’m even more scared of not having you in my life.”

“I said this wasn’t where we cry and hug and everything is good forever,” said Pharah, her voice creaking.

“Don’t worry, ḥabībti,” said Ana, stroking a hand down the back of Pharah’s hair, “We still have so, so many problems.” Pharah huffed out a half-sob half-chuckle against Ana’s headscarf, and Ana pressed her face into her shoulder. “But I am so proud of you. And I missed you so much.” said Ana softly.

“I missed you too,” said Pharah.

Ana brushed a finger along the gold of Pharah’s hair beads. She remembered braiding them into Pharah’s hair back when the Omnic Crisis first started, telling her that it was the light of the sun and the flesh of the gods and that they meant no matter how far away she was, she would always protect her. But now, in her own Fareeha’s arms, Ana realized she felt safer than she had ever felt in years.

[pixiibells]

United States of Tara reaction fic!

Guys this was in my drafts from line 2014-15 and I never posted it. Here we go!!

Okay, so this episode aired allll the was back in 2009, but my husband and I found it on Netflix last week and we like it. I saw "Possibilities" and I thought Marshall and Jason were freaking adorable! Then we watched "Betrayal" and I really liked where it ended, prefect for a fan to pick up where it left off. I wrote this between that episode and the closer for season one. 

 Title: Revived

Author: Pixiebells

Fandom: United States of Tara, Season 1

Genre: Reaction fic to “Betrayal”

Pairing Marshall/Jason

“Did you do this?!”

Marshall looked up from his novel, as he read placidly on the lawn. The fire was out, and Kate had gone inside. The shed was now a burnt-out stub in the ground, with ash and papers soaked in water, little memories floating around, soon turning to garbage. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Something just came over me.” He glared at his mother.

“Oh, don’t you dare do that!” Tara growled at him. “Don’t you fucking condescend me like that!”

“So you’re mad about this?” He shot back, annoyed.

“Of course I am! You burned our fucking shed down, Marshall!”

“Oh, so you get to make irrational, stupid decisions with little to not consequence but the second I act out, it’s wrong.”

“We’re wrong either way!” she shouted. “But in my defense, I wasn’t fully aware of what I was doing. You, however, are.”

She sighed and sat down on the edge of his chair.

“Look, we both screwed up, okay? Do you really think I’m happy about all this? Do you think I like making a mess of everything I touch? Barely able to keep a job, or get through a weekend of in-laws? Or have a normal afternoon at the spa with my sister?”

“Back to self-pity, again. You’re shameless.”

She grabbed his book and threw it on the lawn, aggravated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t order extra snark with this conversation. What is your problem?”

“Right now? You. You are my problem. I really liked him, and maybe, maybe he likes me back. Do you think I was happy putting myself through that disturbing production, just to spend time with him? What kind of origin story would that be for our adopted children? ‘Your father and I met because I thought he was cute, and he thought pretending to burn in hell for perfectly valid feelings was a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.'”

“Oh my God, you’ve already imagined adopting kids with him?” she chucked good-naturedly, despite herself. She didn’t want to insult her son’s feelings, but that was one hell of a crush.

“Well, yeah. I’m like a wolf, or a clown fish, or whatever animals mate for life. Point is, I like one guy at a time. And when I like him, I really like him. And Jason’s not shallow like a lot of people my age. He’s rare. He’s kind of special. And he’s grown up in this totally controlling, unhealthy environment and maybe now he’ll let his guard down a little.”

“Aww, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

Tara’s anger melted away like the magazine clippings T had plastered on the walls of the shed last summer. She’d found every image of Justin Beiber she could get her hands on, and wrote “PUSSY BITCH” and “FUCK BELIEBERS” and the semi-political “DON’T TALK ABOUT ANNE FRANK LIKE THAT!” In red Sharpie all over his stupid face.

She hugged Marshall, and his anger melted just like his bike had. “I promise I’ll never make out with boys you like again.”

“You better not.” He replied in her ear, finally relaxed. They parted and he spoke again: “I’m sorry too. I know that was kinda your…place.” His guilt finally caught up to him.

“It’s fine. You know, maybe it needed to go. Maybe that was just cosmic timing. You know, my therapist basically dumped me today.”

“Really? Aww, I was trying to think of some puns or a catch phrase for you guys, like a reference to Ocean’s Eleven or something.”.

Tara smiled in appreciation. “I love how creative you are. I’ve always loved that about you. But hey, maybe it’s a chance for a new start, you know? Maybe I should get this new therapist, or  go back on the meds.”

“No, no, don’t do that just for my sake. That should be your choice, my melodrama notwithstanding.”

“Thank you. And I’d do it for us. All of us. It’s just something I’m tossing around anyway. Come on, why don’t we go inside?” she mended fences, picking up his book and handed it back to him as he got up.

“Just one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Was he at least a good kisser?”

“Oohh, details!” she squeaked. “Why? You wanna kiss him?”

“Already did, actually.” he beamed, content with his conquest..

“Oh, well done, playa.”

“And then he kissed back.”

“Ooooh!”

“But it was so quick I wasn’t sure. So…”

“He was all right. Not terrible, not great. Not much experience. Well,” she teasingly looked to him, “not yet.”

“Mom.” he blushed, looking away.

They had reached the kitchen by then. Kate was back up in her room and Max was washing his hands.

“OK,” Tara  breathed a sigh, “I’m gonna go change, get cleaned up. Start helping out with dinner.”

As she went upstairs, Marshall sat at the counter and struck up a conversation with Max. “Dad?”

“You and mom work things out?” he asked, pulling a roast pan out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just, don’t do it again, okay?”

“Okay. I am sorry.”

“You’re fine, it’s cool. Not the first fire I’ve put out today,” he remarked with a smile.

“I have kind of an important question. About Mom and her alters.”

“What’s that?” he asked, while rummaging through the freezer.

“When she’s T, and she’s hitting on some other guy, or, making out with someone half her age. How do you get over it? You guys have been together for almost 20 years. Doesn’t at least a little part of you get insanely jealous?”

“On some level, yeah.” Max agreed, sticking a bowl of water in the microwave.  “But I remind myself of a couple things. It’s temporary, it’s meaningless, and it’s not really her. To be honest, when she’s…not herself, I actually don’t really, uh…”

“Oh,” Marshall was taken aback. “So when she’s not herself, you guys don’t…”

“We agreed it was weird. So it makes it easy to disconnect.”

“That makes sense. Sorry if that was a weird question.”

“Aw, come on. We both know that’s the tip of the weird iceberg around here.” Max winked at his son.

Marshall chuckled, relived. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get that, you’re starting dinner,” he said, rising from his seat. Max thanked him and turned back to the microwave, hot water now ready for thawing.

He opened the door and Jason was there, looking a bit anxious.

“Oh,” Marshall’s mood immediately cooled off. He was square with his mom, but Jason didn’t exactly fight her off, and he was still hurt. 

“Sorry, my mom’s not available right now.” He contemplated closing the door, but settled on giving him an icy glare instead.

“Look, I’m really sorry. And believe me when I say I’m not interested in any…version of your mom. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. If it makes you feel any better, it was weird. And I’m not into labels or whatever, but I really do like you. And your family’s kinda cool. Hell of a lot better than mine.”

“OK, OK,” God damn, he was so cute...he couldn’t throw him away after one weird afternoon, “you’re off the hook. I might have gone a little overboard…”

“Holy shit, that was you?” Jason’s eyes widened. “Whoa…I hope I never piss you off.”

“I…got…jealous.” he stammered. “Sorry if that’s weird for you.”

“I’ll take as a…compliment.” Jason said with a shrug.

They shared a smile, relieved at last.

“So…maybe we can hang out later on?” Jason suggested. “I mean, if you still want to.”

“I do want to.” Marshall quickly replied. He still had a shot! “We’re gonna have dinner in a little while, but maybe...” he reached over and tucked back a lock of hair that has fallen over his eyes, “we could go for a walk first?”

“Sounds good to me.” Jason agreed, grinning.

“Okay.” Marshall said quickly, voice teeming with excitement.

He bounded inside and let his dad know they’d be out.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” he promised.

“No rush.” Max smiled back, reassuringly.

Marshall waltzed out the door, and they walked off, together.

THE END.

[kaazzzyy]

Kengan Omega One shot series : Introduction

Hi, everyone ! 

Sooo, I thought about writing some Kengan Omega stuff and finally came with an idea : making connected one shots with a female reader as she interacts with Kengan’s characters. All one-shots will be posted according into chronogical order and occurs during Omega. I hope you will enjoy them !

(Reader’s name is not defined so you can call her by any name you like. However, her gender and appearence are fixed by myself ! )

Nervousness and anxiety. And maybe a little bit of determination...

That's all what's running through her at this very moment.

Her tiny form is standing in front of the not-so-impresive building she was searching for : The Yamashita Trading Co. Her watering eyes looked down to the paper in her shaking hand.

'There is no mistake... That's the right adress. C-come on (Y/n), the first step is the hardest !', she tought, trying to store some courage before coming in.

Her stress rate made a sudden jump the moment she pushed the door open. nobody was here. She let out a sigh of relief. She examined her surrounding quickly to finally head for the only interesting thing in the ground floor : the stairs.

'Okay... He must be upstairs... Let's go... !'

Climbing the stairs, she immediatly noticed something. Her hands weren't the only things shaking now; her legs started to give her up too. She mentally cursed herself for being such a nervous mess. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the fading sound of voices coming from upstairs. She stopped for a second, then resumed in making her way upstairs. She was sweating so much, she felt like she was climbing a mountain actually .

She is now standing just before the door where the voices are coming from. She reajusted her red tie, the collar of her white shirt covered by her black three piece suit, to finally tighten the red hair elastic holding up her high ponytail. Then, she knocked on the door.

The voices suddenly stopped. She swallowed. Hard.

She opened the door, nevertheless. Way slower than she would have wanted to.

Three pairs of curious and surprised eyes were instantly on her. She made her best to introduce herself without stuttering.

"H-hi ! I'm (Y/n) (L/n) ! I was told to come and see Mister Yamashita today. Is he here ?"

She failed.

A short uncomfortable silence followed before the second woman in the room spoke up, very politely.

"(Y/n) (L/n) ? He told me about you coming. Mister Yamashita isn't here for the moment. He had an urgent meeting, sorry."

'Hum... Maybe it's my chance to come later so I won't have to stand before so much people but Mister Yamashita...'

(Y/n) tried to ignore the two males looking at her and only focused her attention to the blonde woman.

"Owh, I see ! Hum... So... I will come again later then ? Is it okay ?", she nervously smiled. - "From what he said me you want to join the Kengan Association as a new CEO. I just started telling these young men everything about the Kengan Association and the way it works. Are you interested in joining us in ?", proposed the woman as she reajusted her glasses.

The proposal surprised her but she managed to answer quickly, thanks to her nervousness.

"Y-yeah ! Of course ! Thanks for having me.", she thanked as she closed the door and searched for a chair to sit on. They were no chairs in the room, exept from the ones where the two guys are sitting. Hopefully, she noticed a couch beside the blonde one and took a sit. She did her best to not die from embarassment when she caught the blondie looking at her from aside. She acted like she didnt notice and looked down at her sweating hands.

She finally looked up when the woman started speaking again.

"I'm Akiyama Kaede, Yamashita Trading Co.'s secretary. And these two are Narushima Koga, an apprentice fighter and Gaoh Ryuki, an official fighter. They are both new to the association."

(Y/n) looked at both males and nodded at them with a nervous smile.

"N-Nice to meet you both...!"

Koga nodded at her back while Ryuki answered her, indifferent. "Nice to meet you."

'What a warm welcome...', she tought ironically.

Kaede resumed her speech about the Kengan Association. (Y/n) (L/n) knew some of the things said but she also learned a lot about it. Then came the most interesting part for her : the one about fights and fighters.

'I see... So all the fighters must have been registered with Yamashita Trading Co. to be able to fight in Kengan matches...', she thought deeply, almost not noticing the two other males entering the room suddenly. They greeted Kaede in a very friendly and warm way which made Koga obviously angry as (Y/n) conclued they must have known each other for a long time.

"Allow me to introduce you Himuro Ryo and Kaneda Suekichi. They are both active fighters." - "Pleased to meet you. My name is Kaneda, as she just said.", repeated the closed-eyed smile guy, happily. - "Himuro as a perfect 21 win record in the Kengan matches, and Kaneda is a veteran with 12 matches under his belt."

(Y/n) was looking at them in owe, then focusing on Kaneda. 'So that's how active fighters look like... That one seems pretty fragile tought...'

"Kaede, do you mind if I start now ?", asked Himuro. - "Of course ! Go right ahead !" - "So, like Kaede just said we are both fighters. We are employed by Ginokuniya Bookstore.", he started before turning his attention on Ryuki and smiled, "So, Gaoh, was it ? We saw your match yesterday. You beat Kokuro in your debut match... That's pretty impressive." - "Tch. Condescending ass.", commented Koga.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she saw Koga being punched hardly in the face by the white-haired man. She didnt even have the time to process what happened that Ryuki kicked his desk and then threw his chair at him. Himuro dodged the desk, deflected the chair with his arm and finally blocked Ryuki upcoming attack with one hand as his other one was under the boy's chin, menacingly.

"Wait, for real ? He adapted to "that move's blind spot"...!", exclaimed Koga, dumbfounded.

'What is he talking about ? I couldn't see anything ! That was happening so fast !', the girl thought, breathless. If only she knew that Himuro's next question would have made her even more shaken up. She wasn't prepared for what was coming next.

"What did you move to kill Kokuro after the match was over ?", asked Himuro angrily, "Choose your words carefully, 'cause I can still kill you from this distance."

'K-KILL ?!', yelled (Y/n) in her head as she suddenly stood up in surprise.

"You are right, I would have ended up killing Kokuro if Mister Yamashita hadn't stopped me. I just forgot that it was just a "match"... I've only fought in fights to death up until now.", explained Ryuki like it was nothing.

Koga and (Y/n) let escape a sound of surprise as Ryuki continued, "But if you can't kill people in Kengan matches, then I will follow that rule."

Himuro thought for a second before letting go of Ryuki. "It seems like you are not lying."

He then sat down as he explained the reason he was here. Apparently Yamashita asked him and Kaneda to be in charge of their "education". (Y/n) managed to calm down a bit since.

"From this day forth, I'm going to be your mentor. I'm going to make you two into first-rate fighters." - "No, I'm good.", instantly refused Ryuki which made everyone sweatdrop while (Y/n) cracked a smile. The way he said that was way too funny for her.

Now that the situation finally calmed down, Kaneda proposed to Koga to follow him while Himuro did the same with Ryuki. Koga seemed distrusful at first but accepted anyway. On the other hand, Ryuki just walked after Himuro silently.

(Y/n) was now left alone with Kaede. Being alone with her made her way less nervous than she was earlier so she dared to spoke up for once.

"It was the first time I faced such a situation. I think I will have to work about that.", she joked with a small giggle.

Kaede smiled at her. "Indeed ! But don't worry, it's usually way calmer around here." - "I hope so !", she laughed before continuing, "So, do you have any idea when Mister Yamashita will be back ?" - "I have no idea for the moment, i'm sorry. Maybe you can give me your number so I can tell you when he's avaible." - "Oh yeah ! Here's my number..."

Kaede wrote the girl's number on a piece of paper before thanking her and apologizing for the CEO's absence.

"It's okay, don't worry ! He's a CEO so he must be very busy, I can understand that.", she smiled brightly before walking up to the door, "Thanks for all the informations you gave us earlier, it was very interesting. I hope I will get to see you soon. Have a nice day !"

(Y/n) waved at Kaede before going out of the room and closing the door behind her.

'She seems to be a kind and lovely girl.', thought Kaede with a eye-closed smile, 'I wonder what kind of CEO she will become...'

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

The next day, (Y/n) received a message from Kaede. She will be able to see Yamashita today at the office. She smiled in front of her phone as she just woke up. She got dressed and took her breakfast before stepping outside with a helmet on. She climbed on her motorcycle and drove towards her next destination.

She lived pretty near from Yamashita Trading Co.'s building but she always enjoyed riding her bike, even for the shortest trip. She arrived soon at the previous day's adress. She parked her bike, put off her helmet, and headed for the first floor just like yesterday.

She was wearing the same outfit as before. She didn't really like dressing formally but she wanted to make a good first impression on people. Besides, it made her looking more professional and credible, some assets she really lacked because of her shyness and her ability to get nervous very easily around people she doesn't know.

"Good morning Mister Yamashita, Miss Akiyama !", greeted (Y/n), entousiastly. She was surprisingly feeling at ease around them already. She met Yamashita briefly once some weeks ago and immediatly noticed how comfortable the atmosphere around him is. He's just so kind, respectul, not intimidating at all... at least for her.

Yamashita's face brighten up at her entrance. "Here you are Miss (L/n) ! I'm sorry for yesterday ! I had a very important meeting and all..." - "No need to apologize, Mister Yamashita !", she reassured with a smile, seeing the man before her getting obviously nervous and embarassed, "It happens ! Besides, Miss Akiyama already told me a lot yesterday and I could even have the chance to meet some active fighters." - "Yeah, that's a unique chance !", he laughed, "I planned to take you to see a real Kengan match soon anyway, so that you can witness how it looks like." - "Really ? That's so nice of you, thanks !"

(Y/n) was now as excited as ever. She didn't know why, but seeing a real Kengan fight is something she was waiting for with impatience.

"But I also have a bad news for you...", continued Yamashita, now a mix of sadness and seriousness on his face.

(Y/n) looked straight at him, growing more and more nervous by the second. "What is it...?"

"You wanted to integrate the Kengan Association as fast as possible as a new CEO, but that won't be possible right now." - "W-why ?", she brutaly asked, unable to prevent her sudden anger to take the upper hand on her usual kind and smiling self. Yamashita reajusted his glasses, "The Association is encountering some serious problems at the moment. However,I will gladly hire you as a new secretary so you can see by yourself how the association works !"

Yamashita smiled silently at her, waiting for her answer. (Y/n) thought for a short time before nodding slowly. "It's with a huge pleasure that I accept your proposition !"

'Anything is better than being in stanby for a non-determined lenght. Besides, being right on the field is a perfect opportunity to learn. Let's do that, yeah. I wonder what are these "problem" he is talking about, tought...'

"So, when will I be starting ?", finally asked the girl, curiously. - "Right now ! If it doesn't bother you, of course ! All this wasn't planned after all." Yamashita scratched the back of his head in embarassment. - "No, I don't mind at all ! I had nothing planned today anyway..."

Yamashita laughed happily as he gave Akiyama some instructions about (Y/n)'s new role in the Yamashita Trading Co. The beautiful woman only nodded silently before looking at the girl.

"Come here, I will show you some data about the fighters and how it works.", offered Akiyama as she sat in front of her computer.

(Y/n) instantly nodded and took a sit next to the blonde secretary and listened carefully to everyword she said.

Yamashita looked at the two females with a slight smile on his face, his expression softening. Having suddenly a few more new people around him made him happy for some reason. Maybe he was starting to feel lonely somehow ? 

Even him didn't know.

[tragiceyes]

Recovery

I came across this song by AJR, and it made me think of Jason, so I wrote this lil’ fic. Give it a listen! 

Lyrics are interspersed to break up the scenes - sorry this is unedited and sloppy, I’ll clean it up before posting to AO3.

This is a little different from my usual take on Jason. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

I've been so good, I've been helpful and friendly

I've been so good, why am I feeling empty?

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

100mg of Seroquel a day. Because what was the point of cashing in on his little portion of Gotham’s lucrative drug trade if Jason couldn’t buy brand-name?

It made Jason’s stomach hurt, if he didn’t take it with food. So he took it with food. 

I've been so good, but it's still getting harder

I've been so good, where the hell is the karma?

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

A hefty dose of Lithium. 1200mg had made Jason feel like the walking dead, so he’d gotten it reduced to 900mg. He took it first thing in the morning, with a glass of orange juice. 

And he was on the level all day long.

Why, are you asking me why?

My days and nights are filled with disappointment

Fine, oh no, everything's fine

I'm not sure why I booked today's appointment

Jason never heard him coming, but still somehow knew he was there.

Batman.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve gone non-lethal.”

He nodded.

“Any particular reason for this change?”

Jason sighed, too tired to tell him anything but the truth, “I’m trying to be better.”

What, am I normal or not?

Am I crazier than other patients?

Right, I've done everything right

So where's the karma doc, I've lost my patience

“So, this person you’ve been talking about…what did you say his name was?” Dr. Connor reviewed her notes.

“Rick.” Jason mumbled.

“Rick. Were you planning on asking him out?”

Jason stared at the ceiling. The first day he’d come into this office, he’d sat stiffly on the sofa and glared at Dr. Connor the entire time, as if he hadn’t made the choice to be there. To her credit, she hadn’t been put off by his rudeness. She’d let him sit, talk only to the degree to which he was comfortable.

And now here he was, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, glowing in the ambient, calming soft lighting.

“Why would I do that, Doc?” Jason replied listlessly. 

Dr. Connor crossed her legs, “Well, you certainly talk about him a lot. And I think he’d be charmed by the way you wax poetic about him.”

Jason snorted in amusement. He marveled at how far he’d come. All the furniture was still in one piece, and he hadn’t stormed out, red-faced and enraged. 

“Actually, knowing him, he’s probably heard it all before. He’s always had a long line of suitors willing to wax poetic, paint portraits, slay dragons…”

She chuckled good-naturedly, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Jason. For all you know, he waxes poetic about you.”

Jason highly doubted that. “I already asked him out, Doc…and he shot me down cold.” He blushed a little in shame. It didn’t matter how many sessions he had with Dr. Connors, rejection was never fun to relive. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“When did this happen?”

“A while ago, way back before…all of this,” Jason waved casually around the therapist’s office, the photographs of beaches, the soft-colored painted walls, the stress toys he’d broken all too many times. “Not that I blame him for telling me where to shove it. I kind of, well…I didn’t handle it well when he said ‘no.’”

He looked up at her. Her pen was poised on her notepad. She gave him an encouraging smile.

He let out a sigh.

Red Hood and Nightwing had teamed up for at least six missions at the point that Jason had decided it was time to shoot his shot. The Lazarus Pit had taken pretty much everything from him, everything except the long-buried crush he’d harbored for his predecessor since the ill-fated Robin years. 

But Jason wasn’t Robin anymore, and he could tell there was something between the two of them. Something in the way Dick smiled at him made Jason want to devour him, and see what that smile tasted like. Something in the way Dick swung through the night made Jason want to tackle him onto a rooftop, pin him down, and not let him get away. Being around Dick made Jason felt like a dog chasing cars. Only he was pretty sure he’d know what to do once he caught this one. 

And he was planning on catching him. Jason showed up to Dick’s apartment unannounced, and swaggered his way inside when Dick opened the door to him, a confused look on his handsome face. 

“Jason…what are you- I mean, what brings you here?”

“Came looking for you, Dickie-bird.” Jason replied with a smirk, not looking at him.

Dick looked like he didn’t really know what to say to that. He moved to walk past Jason, but Jason’s arm shot out to block his way.

“Stop playing hard-to-get, Dickie. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Dick replied easily, but Jason caught the way he bit his lip nervously.

“I mean you…and me.”

“Jason-“

“Don’t try and deny it.” He was fully boxing in Dick now, his arms on both sides.

Dick squirmed uncomfortably, “Jay…”

“Come get dinner with me,” Jason continued recklessly, “or, if you want, we can skip straight to dessert…”

Jason didn’t really remember what happened next, but he knew it was some embarrassing combination of himself leaning in to kiss Dick, Dick rebuffing him, and then Dick gently explaining his reasoning.

But Jason hadn’t heard anything past the rejection, and the rejection was blistering and hurtful and humiliating. 

And so, as Jason was known to do, he flew off the handle.

“So you were just flirting with me for shits and giggles, I guess?! I should have know you were like that with everyone. Fucking slut!”

Dick looked at him in shock, “Okay, you need to leave now.”

“Fuck you!”

Jason swung a fist at him, but Dick ducked beneath his arm and used his momentum to grab Jason and pin him against the wall, arm behind his back. Jason let out a curse in anger, and swung violently enough to knock a glass jar off a nearby table. Dick’s other hand quickly gripped the back of his shirt and kept his face pushed against the wall.

“JASON. You need to listen to me right now.” Dick’s voice was angry and commanding and Jason hated him.

Under normal circumstances, Jason would have forced his way out of the grip, even if it meant breaking his own arm in the process, just to get back on the offensive and attack Dick with everything he had. But this time, something gave him pause.

“You don’t get to barge into my apartment and get aggressive with me. You don’t get to throw a fist a me when I reject you. You need to learn how to listen before reacting. Did you even hear what I fucking said, Jason? You stubborn asshole!”

Jason didn’t respond, but Dick wasn’t waiting for him.

“Your anger is out of control. You know what you need to do to get right. You’re going to leave my apartment now, and you are not coming back here until you do what you need to do.”

How someone could manage to be both cryptic and totally condescending was beyond Jason. Not that he could say as much in his current position.

Dick tightened his grip slightly before loosening it, “Don’t try and hit me again, Jason. I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

But Jason wasn’t planning on it - he knew when he’d been bested. And he obediently walked out the door, red-faced and shamed.

“You know, it’s not so easy, Dick!” Jason cried hoarsely, “It’s really...it’s really fucking hard!”

Dick looked back at him coolly, “I know.”

And he closed the door.

Even as he recounted the story to the one person he knew wouldn’t judge him, Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit of a lump in his throat. He’d really screwed up that one. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now.” Dr. Connors encouraged him.

“I can’t believe I did that.” Jason said, and to his horror, he felt his eyes get damp, “I can’t believe I threw shit and tried to hurt him for not wanting to date me. It’s fucking embarrassing to be such a shitty person all the time.”

“You’re not a shitty person, Jason,” She cut in, “Yes, you lost control in the moment. But you’ve been trying to battle these moods and symptoms on your own your entire life. Do you have any idea how hard that is? It’s not something everyone can do, and it certainly isn’t something most people can understand. 

You have an illness, Jason, and you’re working hard to get better. If you were in this same situation again today, I have no doubt you’d be able to recognize the signs of an episode, and prepare accordingly. Either by tempering your anger, or removing yourself from the situation. Give yourself some credit.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Jason said listlessly, “yes, I’m a lot better now. The meds and the therapy have been helping. I’m more level-headed and stable than I’ve every been before in my life. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t take back what I did, and I blew my shot with him. He doesn’t want me around, and I don’t blame him.”

“Maybe he’ll forgive you. Have you tried to apologize?”

Jason shook his head. He couldn’t face Dick.

She didn’t let him off, “You should go to him and apologize. With sincerity. Mental illness can be an explanation for poor behavior, but it’s never an excuse. And since it sounds like he’s the one who convinced you to seek treatment in the first place…”

Dick’s words in his mind like a plea or a prayer.

You know what you need to do to get right.

He’d been right.

I've been so good, I've been working my ass off

I've been so good, still, I'm lonely and stressed out

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

What kind of idiot was Jason anyway? He’d been rejected once, twice, it might as well have been a thousand times. 

Yet here he stood once again, right outside Dick’s door. This time he knocked.

Dick answered. Jason was staring at the floor.

“Jason.”

You say that I'm better, why don't I feel better?

The universe works in mysterious ways

But I'm starting to think it ain't working for me

He forced himself to meet Dick’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Dick. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it, and I want you to know that I appreciate you trying to help me and I am trying to get better. I’m trying to be better.”

He swallowed, unsure of how to continue, “I-“

“It’s okay, Jason.” Dick replied simply, “I forgive you.”

Jason paused, feeling slightly wrong-footed.

“You seem calmer on patrol, and off it too. You’re no longer shooting to kill, rarely shooting to maim. I know you’re putting in a lot of effort, and I’m proud of you, Jason.”

“Oh. Um, well…good.” He said awkwardly, “Thanks.” 

He’d done what he came to do. He turned to walk away.

“You came all this way,” Dick called breezily, “wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?”

Jason stared back at him, dumbfounded. A little part of his brain lit up with a memory of the night Dick had rejected him. 

Dick had rejected him. But he’d said, “I can’t be with you, Jason. I want to, but I won’t, not before you see someone. You’ve been through a lot of shit, and you’re dealing with a lot of anger. I think you need to work on that before you enter a relationship with anyone.”

But Jason hadn’t heard any of it, not at the time. Rather, he hadn’t been listening.

“Well, now that you mention it…” Jason was blushing again. But this time he was smiling, too.

He could do this.

“…you free tonight?”

Doctor, should I be good?

Should I be good this year?

Dick smiled back.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (23/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I wrote this entire story in some kind of pregnancy-fueled Mexican-food-craving haze, and I didn’t realize just how much time was between some certain big plot points until I was proof-reading this. That said, I’m not changing any of that and am literally impatient to share all of the upcoming chapters with you wonderful people! @resident-of-storybrooke​ has assured me that they’re actually good. lol. Not entirely sure that I trust her 😉

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list:  @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ 

-/-

I need your post-series comparison report by nine this morning.

You were late with it last time, and that made me late with my report. This is why you should probably stick to on-air reporting instead of continuing to write articles when we have people for that.

W.O.

“Asshole,” Emma mutters to herself after reading that blatantly condescending email from Walsh.

She’s been in the office for approximately fifteen minutes, most likely a little less than that, and the first thing that Emma saw after logging into her computer was an email from Walsh about her report on the difference between playing at home and away, specifically when it comes to playing the Red Sox. Two weeks ago, the Yankees lost every single game they played in Boston, especially that epic game where they lost 3-17 the night Killian was the starting pitcher, and then over the last four days, they’ve won every game while in New York.

Home team advantage taking on a whole new meaning because it is seriously in play this year.

And Emma doesn’t want to get too excited, doesn’t want to get too ahead of herself because anything can happen for the rest of the season, but only a month and a half of the regular season is left and there’s no way the Yankees aren’t making the playoffs. Once they get there, who knows if they’ll make it to the Series?

There’s a chance, though, and that’s all that matters.

As a fan, she’s excited. As Killian’s girlfriend and a reporter for the team, she’s over the freaking moon. It would be insane for them to back it up, but she’s got to slow her roll.

Slow her roll and send Walsh this report so that she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore today. Working with her ex is fine since it’s not an everyday thing, only an office day thing, but the man has got to get the stick out of his ass. He cheated on her, belittled her out of jealousy for her success in her job, and yet he acts like it’s an inconvenience for them to have to spend a miniscule amount of time together. He’s probably sitting at his desk thinking of ways to torture her while drinking a giant bottle of Mountain Dew. She always hated that he did that. He could have at least had the diet version instead of consuming all of that extra sugar.

But whatever. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.

Ruth: Do you think you’d like to come to Portland in October? Or maybe sometime before Thanksgiving? I was thinking you could bring your boyfriend so that I can meet him.

Emma reads the text, but she doesn’t answer it quite yet. She needs time to look at her calendar and have time to ask Killian if he wants to go. Hell, she needs time to figure out if that’s what she even wants because, wow, bringing a boyfriend home is not something she’s ever done. Neal literally never wanted to come home with her, never wanted to go to David’s, never wanted to do anything that wasn’t in his control, and Walsh was just…

Shit. She needs to email him now and stop letting her mind go down this path.

Today is a good day. Nothing is going to ruin it. If she repeats that enough times it’s sure to come true.

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans as she steps into Emma’s office, barely able to squeeze in past the chair that’s keeping the door open before sitting in it, “I am ready for this season to be over. Why is it always so jam-packed? Do people really need to watch this much baseball? There are so many damn games.”

“Nope. They really don’t.”

“I feel like you should not be able to say that because of your job and the fact that your boyfriend is a freaking baseball player.”

“Rubes,” Emma hisses, twisting in her chair and looking out the small glass window in her office, “shut up.”

Ruby’s eyes widen, her hands immediately going to cover her mouth, and that might be the fastest Ruby has ever stopped talking in the entirety of her life.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes before getting up from the chair and moving it so that she can shut the door behind her. Damn this small office. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you have a giant poster saying that I’m dating him. There are just a lot of people constantly walking by this door, so we can’t really talk about it with the door open.”

“My lips are sealed. Also, are you ever going to get a bigger office?”

“I don’t even know why I have an office. Like, honestly. I keep waiting for them to realize that I don’t need it and to give it away to someone who works here more than once a week. Then I could do all of this stuff from home.”

“That is the life. Though, I think you would probably never put on real pants again.”

“Yoga pants are real pants, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“Whatever,” Ruby yawns, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m ready to go home already. Do you think we have time to go home before the game?”

“Considering we have to get out to the stadium in less than an hour and I still have to finish this report for Walsh, I’m thinking not.”

“Ugh,” Ruby groans, propping her feet up against the walls like she owns the place, “why does he continue to exist? Can’t he go work in another department or something?”

“I imagine,” Emma sighs, twisting back in her chair to actually get work done on the report, “that he stays simply to annoy me, but I tend not to think about him too much.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re getting fucked much better now.”

Emma huffs. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“You know, I think it comes from being raised by my grandmother instead of my mother, and I –”

“Rhetorical question,” Emma hums, pulling up her file with her notes from the last few games up so that she can fill the last bit of information in while they talk. “So, Ruth has asked me if I want to bring Killian to Portland.”

“I thought you just said that we couldn’t say his name.”

“We can’t yell it with the door open. We can say it quietly in here.”

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Ruby sighs as Emma keeps working. “How do you feel about the boyfriend going home to meet Ruth? That’s kind of a big step. I mean, he’s already met David and Mary Margaret, but that’s different. They’re more like friends than anything else.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“This is, like, ‘I see a future with you and want everyone I love to love you’ kind of stuff.”

“Are you trying to freak me out?”

“Only a little. I could have brought up marriage and babies, but I figured that would have you jumping through the ceiling to escape the conversation.”

Emma’s heart kind of feels like it’s going to jump through the ceiling of this conversation. Why did she even bring this up? Probably because she does actually want to talk about it, and Ruby will be the most honest with her because she doesn’t seem to have any kind of filter in that wonderful brain of hers.

‘Yeah, let’s avoid the marriage and babies stuff.”

“Okay, so barring those things,” Ruby sighs, getting up from the chair to perch herself on the edge of Emma’s desk so Emma can actually see her while talking, “how do you feel about this? I know you love Killian because you guys are ridiculously adorable together, which makes me happy for you even if I sometimes find it disgusting, but I also know that you like to freak out about relationship stuff.”

“I’m…” Emma rolls back in her chair and tilts her head up to look at Ruby while she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really, because Killian has met everyone else and we do travel pretty often together. But that’s for work, you know? This is…this is moving forward in a way.”

“That’s a good thing, hon. People in good relationships move forward. Graham and I dated for awhile, then moved in together, even if you do live with us because rent is ridiculous, and then one day we’re going to get married. When you love someonesomeone,who is good to you, that’s what you do, even if every relationship roadmap is different with different destinations. It’s scary as hell, but sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.”

Sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.

“You sounded really philosophical until you got to the end there.”

“Eh,” she scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulders, “I think all great philosophers should talk like me. It’s real. Good advice doesn’t have to be poetic. It’s just got to be good.”

Emma hums in response, crossing her legs over each other and readjusting her position while she thinks over everything that Ruby has just said. “So, you think I should talk to Killian about it and then text Ruth back?”

“That’s exactly what you should do. And then you should finish this damn report, send it to your asshole ex with a picture of a middle finger attached, and then we should get something to eat on the way to the stadium.”

-/-

The Yankees win an easy game against the Orioles that afternoon, as they usually do, and it’s a smooth day at the office for all involved. Killian is particularly cheeky in his post-game interview, he and Will bantering off each other, and Emma has to bite her tongue to keep herself from telling Killian that she loves him live on-air.

Talk about a disaster waiting to happen there.

-/-

“Darling, can you get me a napkin?”

“Get it yourself, Jones.”

“Emma is literally standing in the kitchen.”

“You are a big boy. You can get your napkin yourself.”

“You just asked her to bring you a glass of water.”

“That is different.”

Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby and Killian bickering with each other. It’s honestly how they talk. Emma doesn’t think that they’re capable of speaking in normal terms, and as obnoxious as it can be, it’s kind of hilarious. Those two are pretty much a friendship made in heaven because of their wit and ability to make anything a dirty joke, but it results in a hell of a lot of bantering.

Or bickering.

Emma’s not sure which one, but if the look on Graham’s face is any indication, it’s a combination of both.

“We’re going to have to stop allowing them to spend time with each other, aren’t we?” Graham asks as he reaches over her to grab a napkin that the restaurant provided them with when they ordered take-out. “I think they might kill each other.”

“Eh, it might just be the natural progression of things.”

“True. Might as well just let it happen.”

“I can hear the two of you,” Ruby huffs, leaning over from the couch so that she can get a handful of chips out of the bowl before standing and walking to the kitchen, “and it’s totally not cool that you’d just let the two of us die. You are supposed to love us.”

“To be fair, I just met Killian, so I’m not sure that we love each other quite yet,” Graham teases.

Killian winks, the biggest smirk stretching across his lips, and it makes Emma’s stomach flutter. “Give it time. I’m irresistible. Ask Emma.”

“He’s not,” Emma sighs, taking the napkins out of Graham’s hands and walking them the few feet over to Killian before sitting down next to him on the couch, plucking a chip from his plate instead of the bowl. “He pretty much had to beg me to get me to date him.”

“Um, no, you definitely asked me out, Swan.”

“Only because you wouldn’t ask me out.”

“We have talked about this,” Killian breathes, scooping up a forkful of his rice. “And besides, it’s a moot point now.”

“Maybe. Are you going to eat the rest of your queso?”

Killian hands her his bowl in answer. Him watching his eating habits more carefully is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to her even if she has to cut down on the pop-tarts in the morning. That’s probably for the best. She’d rather waste her calories on things like queso and grilled cheese. Killian has learned to make a really good grilled cheese sandwich, and that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her.

Obviously she has some really high (low) standards, but it’s the little things.

Cheese is the way to a woman’s heart. At least to hers. There are some crazy people out there who don’t like cheese.

Crazy.

“Why didn’t we get margaritas with our food again?” Ruby asks as she and Graham both settle back into the living room. They barely have enough room for the three people who live here, let alone four. “I really want a margarita.”

“We’ve got an eleven o’clock game tomorrow.”

“You two do. I don’t.”

Emma reaches to the side to slap Killian’s shoulder, nearly spilling her queso dip, and what a tragedy that would be. “You have training.”

“Not at eleven in the morning.”

“Poor people having to wake up and be at work before nine in the morning to start work at eleven. However do all of you live?”

Everyone’s eyes move toward Graham, evil stares likely there, and instead of backing away, he shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his taco, completely unbothered.

“Shut up and eat your tacos, babe.”

He holds up the taco he just took a bite out of. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Killian chuckles beside her, lifting his arm over Emma’s shoulder so that she can lean into him and into his warmth. “And you say Ruby and I bicker.”

“I’m starting to think maybe it’s Ruby that’s the problem.”

“I,” Ruby scoffs, reaching forward to grab the remote to turn the TV on, “am picking the movie we watch tonight because all of you are assholes, and I deserve this.”

They watch Pride and Prejudice because it’s the first thing Ruby finds on TV, something that Emma definitely isn’t going to complain about. She’s usually not one for period romances, most of them a little too damsel in distress with no backbone for her, but this is one that she can appreciate. Plus, Keira Knightly is pretty much the greatest at being in movies that aren’t modern. The woman wouldn’t know how to act in a movie where cell phones exists.

(Okay, maybe she would, but that’s entirely beside the point.)

Ruby and Graham go to bed before the movie is even over, Ruby falling asleep on the couch with chip crumbs on her shirt, and Graham has to coax her into getting up, telling her that she’s not going to be able to move her neck in the morning if she doesn’t move. Ruby pretty much tells him to fuck off in that charming way that she has, but she does get up, slowly wandering back down the hallway to their bedroom until the door shuts behind her.

She and Killian manage to make it until the end, and even though she’s been up since early this morning and spent so much time outside, Emma’s not tired. She’s not tired as she and Killian move to clean up their food, wrapping up the leftovers and putting them in the fridge, before moving back to her own bedroom so that they can go through their routines to get ready for bed. Emma kind of feels like they’ve been spending most of their nights together even though she knows that it’s not true. It’s been two or three times a week, mostly depending on her schedule or Killian’s game schedule, and it’s not something they ever really plan.

But she likes having him here or likes being over at his place, even though she isn’t the best at sharing the comforter or not sprawling out in the middle of the bed, and it’s a nice thing to get to have someone to spend time with like this.

Today has been a good day.

Killian is in bed before her, the white of her comforter pulled up over his lap to cover his sweatpants, and instead of getting under the covers herself, Emma moves to straddle his lap, placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her hand plays with the chain around his neck, moving the cool metal back and forth in her palm.

Killian arches his right brow at her, that side of his lips tugging up to, and it makes her laugh before she places her hands on his bare shoulders all the while Killian reaches up to tuck her loose strands of hair behind her ear, thumb running across her cheekbone in a gentle motion.

His eyes could not possibly be more blue.

“What is it that you think you’re doing, Swan?”

“What do you mean?”

A low hum comes from Killian as the hand that’s not caressing her cheek moves to her waist, snaking up underneath her t-shirt to rest against the bare skin of her stomach.

“This position isn’t exactly indicative of us going to bed.”

“Is it not?” Emma teases, dipping her head down to press her lips to the tip of his nose. “Because I’m very comfortable right now.”

She does a pointed roll of her hips and revels in the way that Killian’s eyes shut at the movement.

“I think the queso is getting to that head of yours.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

And then Killian is tugging her closer and moving his lips over hers, soft and slow and completely and utterly thorough while his hand tangles into her hair, fingers pulling at the strands, and her hands move from his shoulders to his neck, holding him steady. He tastes like her toothpaste, far too minty, and his skin smells like the soap she keeps next to her sink that definitely should not be used for skincare. It’s weirdly refreshing for him to smell like her things, if not a little overwhelming. Last week she used Killian’s bodywash when she was at his place because she didn’t have any of her own, and while she used to be entirely attracted to the smell, carrying it around on her all day was far too overwhelming.

How do men live smelling that strongly of some kind of Irish spring or mountain brook?

That’s not how either of those things smell either. Or, at least, she thinks.

But that’s entirely beside the point when shivers are spreading across her body at the feeling of Killian’s tongue moving inside her mouth. It’s warm and wet against hers, the feeling that same high that she always seems to be chasing with him, and her fingers inch up his neck to curl into the thick strands of his hair while she groans.

“Bloody hell do I love that sound.”

Heat immediately rises to her cheeks, but it’s also curling between her thighs at the heady sound of Killian’s voice and the demanding pressure of his kiss as his legs shift beneath them to move the two of them until Emma’s back is pressed against the mattress and Killian is hovering over her, his lips trailing across the expanse of skin at her neck that has the simmering heat between them continuing all the while Emma tries to catch her breath.

Every time she thinks she’s got it back, though, Killian nips at her collarbone or nibbles on her ear, and it all evaporates into thin air.

“Oh fuck,” Killian grunts, and Emma takes it as an invitation to trace her nails along his back, pressing her hips up to his to get a little more friction. “No, love, fuck.”

Her eyes snap to him at the more pained exasperation in his voice, and it’s then that Emma realizes that he’s stopped kissing her neck and has his forehead pressed there instead, his body not moving over hers.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“My,” he grits, his voice dark but not in the way that she wants it to be, “leg is fucking cramping.”

Emma doesn’t mean to, not really, but the laugh bubbles from deep within her belly until it’s passing through her lips and she can’t contain herself. It’s not really even funny. Cramps and weird noises and all of that jazz are as normal as can be during sex – don’t even get her started on lock jaw – but it’s usually not when they’ve only been making out for five minutes. This is some kind of new record.

“I’m glad you’re so amused by my pain, love.”

“No, no,” she laughs, wishing that she hadn’t but still not able to stop herself, “I promise you I’m not.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

“Your pain.”

Killian groans before rolling off of her, the loss of his body heat immediate, and she watches as his arm reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes still shut so tightly that those little crinkles have shown up around his skin. It’s adorable even if he’d probably like to chop his leg off right now.

“I hate you.”

“That is entirely untrue,” Emma sighs, leaning down to brush her lips over his cheek before moving across the mattress so that she can grab onto Killian’s leg and rest his calf on her lap, fingers digging into the flesh to start to massage it. “I have it on good authority that you love me in spite of all of the weird things about me like the fact that I laugh at your cramps.”

Killian’s hand moves from his face until his arm is flopping against the mattress in what has to be the most dramatic fashion in the world. “That’s probably the least weird thing about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the weirdest?”

Killian props himself up on his elbows, his eyes obviously taking her in as he thinks, and she squeezes his calf a little bit too hard in response. “You put too much creamer in your coffee.”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Nope. It’s my honest to God answer, love. That is the weirdest thing about you.”

“The weirdest thing about you is the fact that you organize your t-shirts by year that you got them instead of color or putting your favorites up front.”

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on that.”

“No,” Emma shrugs, squeezing his calf where she can see the muscles twitching, “you didn’t, but I thought I’d give you my opinion anyways since you’re not being honest with me about what you find weird about me.”

Killian rolls his eyes before falling back down to the mattress, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “You have too many blankets. It’s not…I mean, you do a million little things that are different or quirky, but I don’t find any of them weird. Not really. But you collect a hell of a lot of blankets. You’ve probably spent thousands of dollars on them. I swear, you’ve brought a different blanket on every road trip we’ve had this year.”

“That is not weird.”

“Neither is my t-shirt thing.”

“Agree to disagree,” she sighs, pulling a pillow behind her back so that she’s not hunching over. “And you have never complained about having use of one of my blankets before.”

“Nor you my t-shirts.”

“This is true.” Emma keeps working at Killian’s calf, feeling the muscled skin under her fingertips, and she figures now might be the time to talk to him about Ruth. It’s not like he can run away. Well, he could, but she could probably run faster than him now. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Killian’s body stiffens. “And you saved it for when I can’t run away?”

Great minds think alike.

“Yes, because I knew you were going to cramp while we were making out.”

She rolls her eyes but still smiles at the way Killian’s forehead is wrinkled with the raise of his brows. His face can hold so many different expressions – from soft to broody and from sexy to amused – and she likes that he often gives away what’s going on in his mind through them, even if he doesn’t always.

“You are evil like that.”

“I know,” Emma shrugs before putting a little more pressure on Killian’s calf so that he groans. Definitely a different groan than what was happening before. “So, Ruth texting me today and asked if when I wanted to come visit. She’s been on me about it for a few months now even with her coming here, but I probably should go home when the season is over. And I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

They’re simple words, but the weight behind them makes Emma feel like she’s just been run over by a truck.

She’s absolutely great at being an adult.

The best.

Her heart is probably going to implode.

“Well,” Killian sighs, propping himself up on his elbows again, “I’d have to check my calendar. You know, I am a very popular man, and many women ask me to go home with them to meet their mothers. I have to make sure that I’m not scheduled to do that with someone else.”

“Asshole,” Emma huffs as she slaps Killian’s leg and pushes it off of her lap so that she can get off the bed. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m feeling a little bit of de ja vu with you calling me that.”

“You deserve it.”

“Hey,” he sighs, stretching across the bed to grab at the bottom of her t-shirt until he pulls her back down onto the bed with him so that she roughly lands on the mattress and against Killian’s knee. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Killian shifts and caresses her cheeks with his hands, pushing her hair back while he looks at her. “I’m kidding. I would love to get to go to Portland with you to meet Ruth. I really do have to check my schedule, especially with how we do in the post-season, but I’m more than happy to go with you and get to hear all kinds of stories about you as a teenager.”

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask for any stories when we go.”

“I’m one hundred percent asking for stories.”

“No. You can’t do that because – ”

Killian doesn’t let her finish her protest, pulling her forward to press his lips into hers, a soft yet insistent thing that has her forgetting her argument. He’s good at that. Probably too good, but that’s definitely something she’ll address at another time.

A time when he’s not doing that thing with his tongue and his teeth that she likes so much.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma stops, possibly against her better judgement, and Killian pulls back only to bury his face in her shoulder.

“W-what?”

“My leg is cramping.”

Killian groans into her neck before wrapping his arms around Emma’s waist and pulling her down alongside him so that they’re a tangle of limbs that very well may never be unwrapped. She wouldn’t mind that either, not if she can stay in the dim light of her bedroom with Killian holding onto her and looking at her like she put the stars in the sky and tells them to glow every night.

No one has ever looked at her that way before.

Ever.

She’s really damn happy.

“I love you,” Killian breathes out, and her heart metaphorically skips a beat while she reaches for his chain between them so that she can run the metal between her fingers. “More than anything, I think.”

Well damn. Who knew three little words added to those big three words could completely change the meaning of it all? Or, at least, amplify them.

“I love you too, twenty-nine.”

Killian shifts again, pressing his back into her and pulling her closer, as if that was possible, and she can feel the scruff on the underside of his chin pressing into her temple while he intertwines their fingers and moves their joined hands to rest between her breasts.

“I’m serious, Emma. I know…” Killian takes a deep breath, one that she can feel in her own bones, and she has to swallow down the emotion that she feels at just the gravely sound of his voice. “Thank you for trusting me enough to take this shot with me. I haven’t been this happy in a long time, and I kind of thought that I’d reached the pinnacle of happiness last year when we won.”

“I mean, you did win the World Series,” she says, trying to play off some of the emotions she’s feeling. “What could be better than that?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” Killian speaks into her hair, pressing a kiss there that has her lashes fluttering closed against her cheeks. “It’s you.”

[writerbyaccident]

Bargains (Part Two)

Part One: https://writerbyaccident.tumblr.com/post/182816070094/bargains

You sat in the garden, concealed under a weeping willow. At least, you had thought it was a willow tree, until you remembered that willow trees did not have dusky purple leaves. You were slowly becoming acclimated to the strange world you had found yourself trapped in, but that new familiarity brought along its own kind of fear. Fear that you would give in to the temptations of this wiling world, fear that you would forget the life you held before all of this, fear that you would remember, but just not care. That was why you sought refuge in the garden, it was the one place that you could attempt to collect yourself, try to keep your soul from slipping out of your hands.

At the moment, you were writing out your most important memories in the dirt, using a small stick you had found on the ground. You knew better now than to try to break off part of a branch yourself, doing so would only serve to attract the attention of every creature at the palace. The last thing you needed was for your liege to discover your secret ritual. He may not have explicitly forbidden you from sorting through your past, but you knew that that was only due to the fact that he believed this realm would do the work of destroying your memories for him. You paused at the thought, half convinced you hear him approaching. But soon enough your dread passed, and you continued in your task.

You were writing down the names of all of your friends and family that you had left behind, trying not to wonder if they remembered you at all. It was dangerous to be sharing their names, even if it was only with the earth, but it felt even more dangerous to let yourself forget them. Still, you were sure to write their names very small, so that only a person who already knew what they said could tell what they were. In addition, you were also laying in the dirt, covering the names with your body so that no one else could see them, not even the sprites that sometimes enjoyed spying on you. You knew it was a risk to get your gown dirty; he always told you that he could not have his pet appear slovenly before the court, but you knew that any punishment he could give you would be worth enduring. As you wrote down each name, small but precious memories came back to you. The tricks your dog could do, your best friend’s smile, the pancakes your parents would make you each year for your birthday. It took you a minute, but soon you realized that you had begun to cry. They were not sad tears though, not really. They were more of a melancholy nostalgia.

“Why are you crying, my dear?” You looked up, startled. Your sovereign had appeared before you without even the sound of his breath to warn you. He stood above you, looking down in exaggerated consternation. Taking in his sudden arrival, you noticed that his eyes were a haughty silver at the moment, his color for tightly controlled rage. Trying not to avoid his gaze, you slowly moved your hands towards the names, about to wipe them away before he could see. But before you could erase them, he called your name and commanded you to stop.

“Please,” you begged him. He paid no mind to your pleas, and instead moved to see what you had been writing. You prayed that he wouldn’t be able to tell what the words actually said, but your prayers provided little comfort. Peering down at the words, he laughed coldly.

“So this is your little secret? I have to say, I expected something more entertaining from you, pet.” His words were unbothered and condescending, but somewhere in his tone his anger was betrayed. With a frighteningly gentle touch, he grasped your arms and forced you to stand. You dropped your gaze then, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. It could have been rage, or amusement, or triumph; no matter what it was, you knew it would end poorly for you. All you could hope for was that he would spare the names written there.

“I-I just didn’t want to forget,” you whispered, knowing that your cooperation would be necessary in order to obtain mercy for your loved ones.

“But why would you feel the need to hide such a thing from me, love?” he asked mockingly. “I thought you knew our ways. The true power of names is only given when the holder of it gives it freely.” You looked up in desperate hope to see if his words were true, when he suddenly gripped your chin in his iron grip.

“However,” he continued, “I do believe that I could do something with these names.” His eyes began to change into a bright amber, giving him the fitting appearance of a feral animal.

“What are you going to do to them?”

“Well, there are quite a few options. I could visit their dreams, whisper things in their ears, force them to see their greatest fears come to life before them. Or,” he said, leaning to whisper in your ear, “I could show them every single thing that I have done to you here.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I won’t do it again, just don’t hurt them.” At your words, he only sighed.

“But you betrayed my trust, pet. I have told you time and time again, I refuse to share you. That includes with memories as well.” In a perverse parody of gentleness, he started to stroke your hair. Despite yourself, you leaned into his delicate touch and let his breaths dance upon your neck. “There is nothing left for you in that world, my dear. Thinking of it will only hurt our chance at happiness. You have given me your name, but until you give me every piece of your being, I cannot make you happy. I would worship you, if only you would let me.” You drank in his sweet words gladly, swaying slightly at their rhythm. They were so tempting, offering you a chance at escape from the cage you had found yourself trapped in. Dimly, you realized that he had begun to trail soft kisses all over your neck, and you closed your eyes in lazy contentment. As his kisses grew more passionate, a thread of heat rose within you, and you were suddenly desperate to feel his lips against yours. You leaned towards him in an attempt to catch his lips, but he moved back with a teasing smile.

“I have a bargain to offer you, little one,” he told you. “I will erase these names from my mind, so that I could not use them even if I wanted to. But in return, you will forget them as well.” You bit your lip in consideration, knowing that the specific wording of the bargain had to be thought over carefully. He was not asking to wipe away your memories, but that was only because he didn’t need to. Once you let go of these names, you knew that your memories would begin to fade with them. Slowly, all of your connection to your past life would be eroded, like a pebble in a stream. Your heart ached at the very thought, and positively roared at the realization that you would agree. You had given up so much already, the prospect of handing over more of yourself to this world and to this man hurt as no physical pain ever would. At your distress, your lord reached forward and cupped his cheek in his hand.

“I do this not to hurt you, love. You know that so long as you hold these memories within you, the pain will never leave. Do you not see-I am the only answer to your suffering, I am the only one who cares enough to heal you.”

“That-that’s not true,” you reminded yourself desperately. “They would save me if they could.” He smiled with patronizing sympathy.

“Then why haven’t they? I did not erase their memories of you, and the friend you saved remembers exactly what happened. And yet, none of them have even tried to find this place, much less find you.” You gave a quiet sob at his words, willing yourself not to believe them. But you knew that the Fae could not lie, so your tears continued, and he began to stroke your hair again. Looking up into his eyes, you saw that they were now a golden brown, warm with fond attachment. There was possessiveness hidden there as well, but you refused to let yourself see it.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured. “You do not belong there any longer, your home is with me. They are not worthy of you, they never were. You are a jewel among them, why else would I have chosen you? I am the only one who has ever seen your true worth. You are my match in every conceivable way: in your intelligence, in your compassion, in your beauty, in your nobility. Every sacrifice you make for them only proves it further. Let go of them guiltlessly, they are not worth your tears.” His words were gentle, a soothing balm to the anguish that you felt. After so long of trying to keep your walls up around your sovereign, he brought them crumbling down with sorely needed affection.

“All right,” you agreed. “I accept your bargain.” He smiled in gratification, directing you to look down at the soil. To your lack of surprise, the names you had written there had disappeared. You searched yourself for them, and found nothing. The memories were still there, but now they were further away. They no longer demanded your attention and subsequent suffering. Looking back up at your lord, you gave him a small smile. Only then did he meld his lips with yours, enjoying how he could now taste your full reciprocation.

[drgrlfriend]

Author Meme

Tagged by @ato-the-bean 

Author Name:

dr.girlfriend or dr.g for short!

Fandoms You Write For:

X-Men (Rogan), BBC Sherlock (Johnlock), James Bond (00Q), Teen Wolf (Sterek), and Marvel (Winterhawk) with a little side-trip into Cabin Pressure once!

Where You Post:

FFN in the old twilight days, AO3 now

Most Popular One-Shot:

Layover

Excerpt:

Big, serious brown eyes were staring right into his from only a few inches away. The child had clambered half over the arm of Derek’s chair to study him at close range, her little rosebud mouth pursed in concentration.

“Uh.” Derek couldn’t look away as the girl reached out one pudgy hand and patted him gently on the cheek. Her scent was soft and sweet and somehow a bit familiar, just enough to keep Derek from shying away. Derek didn’t know too much about kids but he guessed this one was probably three years old or so, head still oversized in proportion to the short limbs and round little belly.

She seemed fascinated with Derek’s beard, eyes widening further under incredibly thick lashes as she petted Derek’s cheek some more, smoothing down the short stubble. Finally she grinned widely. “Good wuff.”Derek jerked upright, hands clenching on the edge of his seat. Did she just say?...

“CJ!” The child was suddenly gone, lifted up by a strong, tattooed forearm around her little potbelly. “You scared the he— heck out of me! What have I told you about wandering — Derek?”

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Windows

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

Favourite Story You Wrote:

I think most of my epic-length stories are pretty much my babies, but I’m always most enthusiastic about the fandom I’m in currently, so if you asked me which of my stories I would recommend to someone at the moment it would be:

Lucky in Love

“I’m not some charity case,” Bucky says pugnaciously.

“I didn’t think you were,” Clint answers back readily enough. “I mean, I can tell you’re fucked up for sure, but of the two of us, I’m probably the bigger disaster. My sleep schedule is shit, and I drink coffee straight from the pot. I sing in the shower even though I’m deaf as fuck. I have arrows everywhere because I’m an archer — did I tell you that? And I was raised in a literal circus, so I’m not exactly domestic. Let’s see, what else?” He squints down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, I won the building in a poker game with the Russian mafia and every once in awhile they show up and try to take it back, but usually I handle it, no problem. Uh...”

Clint happens to looks up and Bucky’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. Clint’s hand freezes where he’s rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. Yeah, when you put it all out there at once, it doesn’t sound so good.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

I’m Game (A Very Craigslist Thanksgiving)

"If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game," the ad had said. "I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other guests while you act like you don't notice, start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion, propose to you in front of everyone, pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don't drink, but I used to. a lot. too much in fact. I know the drill), start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest."

This was my first fic in the huge Sterek fandom, and I was especially nervous because I hadn’t watched much of the show yet -- just read a lot of fanfic!

How Do You Choose Your Titles:

I am the WORST at titles.  I used to just call fics “The _____” based on whatever the most prominent feature of the story was.  Some of my titles are ridiculous puns that people hate.  :-)  “Quriosity” was just the working title of my doc until I thought of something better, but it grew on me.

Do You Outline:

Not a huge amount in advance, but I outline as I go to keep track of what time of year it should be in the story and to remind myself of what has already happened, because otherwise I read the story from the beginning before I write the next part and that can become time-consuming.

Complete:

40 stories although one of them is a bunch of ficlets.

In-Progress:

In progress (and I better get cracking on it) is my last Fandom Trumps Hate auction with police dog!Derek and college student!Stiles.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started:

I have a lot of Winterhawk ideas that I’m not allowed to write until I finish the FTH fic!

Do You Accept Prompts:

I don’t write a ton, so if you send me a prompt you’ll probably be disappointed.  Most of my fics, though, were prompted by one thing or another.  Either an idea in fanfic I wanted to go a different way, or a prompt list, or something like that.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:

Excited to write more Winterhawk since I’m currently obsessed with that fandom.

Tagged By:

@ato-the-bean 

Tagging:

I tag @kangofu-cb, @pantstomatch, and @mojoflower (only if they want to!)