#the incredible rabbit holes of thought writing fic leaves you with

[doodlejoltik]

i suddenly realised that Rei has to own both a Poryphone and the ArcPhone so that he can use sync moves. having two phones is inconvenient so he takes the SIM card out of the ArcPhone and puts it in the Poryphone

[nenya85]

N, E, Y, and A for the ask meme! :-)

@uneorange OMG!  You picked the letters of my username!  That’s so clever.  It really made me smile :-) 

If any one else wants to ask (please!) the list is here!

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

In addition to my ongoing WIP, “Life After Life,” I have two really vague fic ideas I’m mulling over. And believe me, when I say really vague, I mean really vague.

In no particular order:

VAGUE IDEA #1: Atem returns with Kaiba.  A bunch of unspoken assumptions are crammed in the Dimensional Cannon with them.  Atem’s first actions throw everything up in the air. Kaiba, still on a honeymoon high, brings Atem and Yugi together, with the flourish of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Yugi falls apart.  He’s been the brave warrior for so long, and when he sees Atem, standing in front of him, real and alive, he dissolves into tears and thanks Kaiba for bringing Atem back.  Atem, shaken and guilty at the effect his leaving has had on his partner, focuses on comforting Yugi.  Kaiba (of course) assumes the idyll is over, as Mokuba wonders why he’s always the one left picking up the pieces.  I really want the story to be an exploration of the importance of romantic (Kaiba/Atem), platonic/friendship (Atem and Yugi) and familial bonds (Kaiba and Mokuba) as the characters negotiate their way through them.

VAGUE IDEA #2:  Every time Kaiba tries to reach Atem in the after-life, he winds up back in his past.  Meanwhile, every day Atem is spending in the after-life feels more hollow, as if he’s a vessel that’s emptying itself out.  As everything starts to feel less real, the one thought that becomes more solid is that Kaiba is involved.  They feel like they’re caught in a game and the only way out is to figure out what the game is and how to win.

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

Both Kaiba brothers.  My older brother was incredibly important to me growing up, and to this day, if he told me black was white, I’d be out there swearing he was right, so I really get that bone-in loyalty to an older sibling.  As much as I love Yugi’s values, in temperament, I really get Kaiba, and in a much milder form, a lot of his struggles have been mine.  

Capturing the Kaiba brothers has been an ongoing fixation of mine, so I’d like to think I’ve done them justice in all my stories.  I think the one that looked at Kaiba’s inner workings in the most literal way was probably “Giving Up the Ghosts,” where Kaiba created an immersive virtual world that reflects all of his inner conflicts, strengths and damage and then has to figure out how to win to escape.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

I tend to avoid thinking of my stories in terms of popularity because that’s a particularly self-destructive rabbit hole for me, and no matter where I start, I always end up feeling bad about my writing.  I came up with a very simple metric that ended up working:  Did I tell the story in my head to the best of my ability at the time I wrote it?  So far the answer has been yes, and that has remained an enormous source of satisfaction.

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

OMG!!! That’s like asking a parent who their favorite child is!  TBH, I don’t really have an answer because I spend so much time nurturing each story.  Also, in addition to being stories in and of themselves, they’re also my experience of writing them, and for me, those two things are inextricably intertwined.  Writing my first story was an amazing experience because I’d never thought of myself as a creative person, and writing a whole story was something I would have said was beyond my ability.  Having people connect with it and to meeting so many people through it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I had several (mostly successfully resolved) health issues while writing my current WIP and there were months where each successful update felt like a victory in and of itself, and the story has occasionally became a stand-in, and at times a target, for my fluctuating moods.  TBH, I’m not sure if I’m avoiding the question or if I simply can’t answer it.

[violetevents]

HELLO!!! Mutual pining au + locked in a room + first kiss for willex pleaseeee 💖💖💖💖💖

will i ever stop writing hospitality related fics???? probably not. anyway, alex is a chef and willie is a night audit. i hope you like it :)

It’s the end of yet another grueling shift and Alex finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he makes his way to the elevator. He has changed out of his chef’s white in the kitchen’s little backroom, and is now in a simple sweater and jeans. He looks out of place among the hotel’s guests, who are dressed up to the nines. Alex is pretty sure they don’t have an official dresscode, but no one steps into the Michelin star restaurant of a Ritz-Carlton without at least a suit or a gown on.

To avoid the crowds of fancy dressed guests who will no doubt side eye him for his attire, he heads towards the service elevator. During the day the thing is in constant usage, mostly by the cleaning staff. But it’s eleven at night now, and when he steps inside, the elevator is blissfully empty. He leans against the wall and takes a deep breath.

Service was good today, but it’s his ninth shift in a row, and he can’t help but be exhausted. He loves his job, he really does, but sometimes he wishes he had picked a profession that values sleep and days off just a little bit more.

The doors slide open on the 12th floor, and someone hurries inside, nearly bumping into Alex.

“I am so sorry,” they say, and then glance up, their face lighting up. “Oh, hi Alex!”

“Hi, Willie,” Alex says, trying to not let his smile take over his entire face. Willie looks a vision in a suit, with his hair pulled back into a bun.

He’s smiling at Alex as he leans over and presses the ground floor button. The elevator doors shut behind him and he sighs. “How was your shift?” He asks, leaning against the wall next to Alex.

“Long,” Alex says, and Willie nods sympathetically. “How’s yours?”

Willie pulls a face. “Room 104 had a noise complaint and 117 demanded fluffier pillows. And that’s only been the first half hour.”

Willie has been the night auditor for as long as Alex has been working in the rooftop restaurant, and he guesses he’s had a crush on the guy for about as long. There’s just something ridiculously refreshing about Willie in a world full of strict rules and fancy suits. He’s a breath of fresh air, someone who never fails to make Alex smile.

They run into each other most nights, when Alex goes to leave and Willie’s shift is just starting. Alex cherishes those little moments they have, figuring that’s all he’s ever going to get.

He’s about to reply, when the elevator shudders to an unexpecting halt. They’re nowhere near the ground floor, and the doors don’t open. This can only mean-

“Not again,” Willie groans, digging around in his pocket for his phone.

Alex sighs and slowly lets himself slide down to the floor. Every once in a while the service elevator breaks down. No one seems to know why, or how, or how to fix it, but it’s always ridiculously inconvenient. Trappings can last up to an hour at times, and his was not how Alex was imagining tonight to go. He had a bath planned, for fucks sake.

Willie is talking on the phone, presumably to whoever is manning the front desk right now. He hangs up eventually, sighs frustratedly, and falls down on the floor next to Alex. “They are aware we’re in here, and they’re calling the mechanic.”

In other words: all they can do right now is wait.

“Hey, look on the bright side, at least you won’t have to deal with any more fluffy pillow complaints for awhile,” Alex says, nudging Willie’s shoulder with his own.

Willie sighs ruefully, “Yeah, or people are even more insufferable by the time I do finally get to them because they’ve had to wait.”

Alex pulls a face. “Yeah, probably.” There’s a silence, and then he ads. “I was going to have a bath.”

Willie laughs, “I’m sorry, that’s not funny, you just sound so upset.”

“Are you laughing at my pain, William?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Willie says, and his eyes are twinkling, and it’s a challenge almost, and Alex sticks out his tongue at him.

“I hope everyone demands fluffy pillows for the rest of your night,” he says, and now it’s Willie’s turn to stick out his tongue.

Alex laughs. “For two people working in one of the fanciest hotels in town we are ridiculously immature, you know that?”

“It’s what I like so much about us,” Willie says.

Us. Willie doesn’t mean it in the way Alex wants him to mean it, but god, that sounds nice, doesn’t it? Us.

A silence falls over them while Alex’s spirals down a rabbit hole full of ‘us’ and ‘we’ and ‘ours’ and Willie stares a the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.

“How’s the boyfriend?” Willie eventually asks, and gets shaken out of his thoughts quite rudely.

“How’s who?” He asks, incredibly confused. He would know if he had a boyfriend, right?

Willie waves his hands around, but he’s pointedly not looking at Alex. “You know, that guy that comes to pick you up every now and then? Dark blond hair, no sleeves.”

Alex stares at him incredulously now. “Luke?!”

Willie looks at him now, if only to frown. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what his name is?”

It comes out kind of rude, and suddenly a lot of things are clicking into place for Alex. How Willie had always disappeared from his side the second Luke showed up. How he immediately changed the subject if the conversations steered only slightly into the love territory. How he had always denied any of Alex (albeit a bit botched) attempts at flirting.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he says, turning so he faces Willie. “I’m single.”

“Oh,” Willie says, sounding slightly hopeful.

“Actually, I kind of have this crush…”

“Oh,” Willie says, again. This time he’s sounding kind of sad again.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and then he surges forward and kisses Willie full on the mouth.

This is not the kind of thing he usually does, kissing people at work, being the one to initiate the kiss, but this is Willie he can’t not.

They pull back and Willie is looking at him wide eyed, and suddenly the elevator springs back to life and they find themselves scrambling to get up. Only seconds later the elevator opens on the ground floor and they’re greeted by Flynn and the mechanic.

Willie walks him to the door, and there’s a silence between them and it’s kind of awkward and Alex is just starting to regret it, is just starting to think maybe he fucked it all up, when Willie says, “When’s your next day off?”

“Uh, Friday,” Alex says. They’re standing at the employee exit now, and Alex is fiddling with the strap of his backpack.

“I, uh, know this coffee shop a few blocks from here. Really good stuff. Think you maybe want to go there with me?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, smiling widely, “yeah, I would really like that.” And then, because he’s riding this wave of courage all the way to the end, he leans forward and kisses Willie on his cheek before disappearing through the door.

He’s still absolutely exhausted, but he’s not stumbling anymore. In fact, he nearly skips the whole way home.

[exhausted-dog-mom]

Underwater (2020) Fix It Fanfic

Last year, I was commissioned to write a fix it fic for the horror movie Underwater. I had no idea it was a horror movie until after I agreed to write it, lol. I'm a coward at the best of times and writing this gave me nightmares for months. It's 24k words and almost 55 pages long. I rewrote the whole dang movie, lol. The entire fic is on my Patreon, but here are the first 2k words. 

           Norah followed behind Rodrigo as they picked their way carefully through the debris. Her body shivered uncontrollably, her meager clothing long soaked through by water of questionable quality. The tinny, prerecorded voice of the infographics which once lined the walls echoed in the too tight hallways, skipping as sparks crackled along the broken screens. Great slabs of concrete and torn sheets of metal made their progress slow, their flashlights illuminating little more than water. The hallway they were following to CR-7 was far from a direct route, but it was the only one they were both able to traverse, and Norah knew she wasn’t alone in wanting to stick together—not after closing the bulkheads.

           She dismissed that thought. She didn’t have time to think about that. Not when the path before them suddenly stopped, the way forward cut off by a serious cave in.

           “Can we dig through there?” She asked, watching as Rodrigo crouched down and began moving loose bits of rubble.

           He called back, uncertain but willing to try, and Norah began scanning the area for alternate routes. They didn’t have time to double back and find another way. The Kepler wouldn’t last long and every second they wasted not getting to the pods was another second the entire station deteriorated around them.

           She took a chance and put her weight on a ledge above where Rodrigo was digging, shining her light down a narrow passage that might allow them both through. Maybe.

           “Hey,” she called down to her colleague. “I can fit through there if you can.”

           He came up and looked at her discovery, considering the rough looking tunnel.

           Distantly, Norah heard something. A voice. She had to turn her head to catch it, the hearing in her left ear completely gone, but it was there.

           “Hello?” She called out, hope rising in her throat. “Hello? Can you hear that?” She didn’t wait for Rodrigo’s response, leaving him behind as she clambered over derelict ductwork and dodged sharp edges, shining her flashlight on everything as she searched desperately for any sign of life. “Keep talking, I can hear you!”

           She turned her right ear to the ground, tracing the source of the muffled voice to a pile of concrete slabs, the edges sharp against her hands as she began to pull on them with a strength she didn’t know she had. Rodrigo came up beside her, helping to free whoever was trapped underneath. The first thing she saw as they pulled back a layer of rubble was a stuffed rabbit, the furlike fabric covered in grease and who knew what else. She stared at it, confused, for all of two seconds before joy and recognition filled her with renewed vigor.

           “Paul?” Sure enough, as she took the rabbit from upstretched hands, her friend’s face came into view, his eyes clenched shut against the brightness of Rodrigo’s flashlight. She handed the rabbit to Rodrigo, reaching down into the crevice to get better leverage for lifting Paul’s not insignificant weight. With Rodrigo’s help, she pushed back the final slab, revealing the drill worker in all his bare chested glory, his skin coated in dust and grime. His hand held on to hers tightly and she watched as recognition bloomed in his eyes.

           “Norah?”

           “Hi.” She was as breathless as he was, a shaky laugh passing through chattering teeth.

           Paul smiled up at her, squeezing her hand as he laughed right back. “Oh, you sweet, flat chested elven creature.”

           She couldn’t even be mad at him. She was sure she made quite the sight, in her sports bra and sweats, but it was no better than his.

           She watched her friend breathe harshly for a second, lungs taking full advantage of their renewed capacity now that the weight of the debris was no longer crushing his chest. She knew the instant his brain had reoxygenated, because he turned to Rodrigo, a man he’d probably never interacted with before, like Norah, and asked after his rabbit.

           His concern for his little buddy was endearing, though she knew the stuffed toy couldn’t hold a candle to the real Little Paul, alive and waiting seven miles above them on dry land.

           Getting Paul out of the hole was a process, but they did it, the large man standing before them in nothing but a robe, boxers, and one lucky sock. He cradled the rabbit against his chest like a living animal, his attachment to the thing so much stronger after so long down in the deep.

           Norah lead the way back down the hall, flickering blue lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. “There are pods in CR-7,” she explained over her shoulder, the joy she felt at finding her friend alive tempered by a renewed desperation to get out. “The upper decks are collapsing, so we’ve gotta move fast.”

           She pulled herself up onto the ledge, Rodrigo helping her from below. She caught the tail end of Paul’s whining complaint and she rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to find something to complain about during a life or death situation.

           Paul was much larger than either her or Rodrigo, but, as Norah crawled through the cramped tunnel, she was pretty sure he’d be able to fit. She had little trouble scooting through the dark, her movements sending the light from her flashlight in all sorts of disorienting directions. Everything was grey, with the exception of the odd wire or two, exposed copper stinging her wet skin as she brushed up against it. She turned back to look at her two companions, the men clearly having a harder time than she was.

           “You guys ok?”

           “Yeah,” Rodrigo nodded to her, dust clinging to his dark skin. Behind him, Paul grumbled out an affirming expletive.

           Turning back, she immediately recoiled, flashlight dropping from her grasp and teeth clacking loudly in her skull.

           Closing her eyes against the terrifying sight, she called back to the boys. “There’s-there’s someone up here.” She swallowed thickly. “It’s McClellen.”

           Just like that, the high from unburying Paul was gone, replaced by the grim certainty that his survival was nothing short of a miracle and the odds of finding anyone else alive were incredibly slim.

           How many were left alive? How many more would there be if she had waited just a little longer? How many were dead because of her?

           McClellen had no answers for her, blue eyes locked unseeing on something far in the distance. Norah took a shaky breath, bolstering herself as she began to move past the other woman. Their hands touched as she did, the fading warmth she felt deepening the ever growing pit in her stomach.

           If she’d waited, would McClellen still be alive?

           Would Paul be dead?

           Those questions, like all the others, were tossed aside as she resumed the slow journey forward, eyes locked on the darkness ahead of her. There was no telling what waited out there, just beyond the range of her flashlight, but she didn’t have time to lose herself to what ifs and should haves. There were two men behind her, two living, breathing men, and that was enough. It had to be enough.

           The cramped tunnel let out to an open space—another hallway, by the looks of it—and Norah carefully climbed out and set her feet on the ground. The light here was red, a sign that the emergency systems were working, at least, and she could only hope that the way to the escape pods was open. She led the way, following a mental map of the rig as automated voices rang out overhead. Their flashlights reflected off the tall windows which surrounded the evacuation room, the reinforced glass surprisingly intact compared to the wreckage all around it. Norah stumbled over a rogue pipe, her mind going blank as it struggled to put together what she was seeing.

           “Captain?”

           Sparks flew, the display illuminating Captain Lucien’s back where he sat hunched over inside the closed off rotunda. He made no indication that he’d heard her, his head in his hands as he sat alone in the dark. Norah hit the control panel, but he didn’t react to the obnoxious sound it made in protest. Squinting through the glass, her heart sank as she took in the damage surrounding him, the escape pods they’d all put so much hope in clearly no longer an option.

           “Shit.”

           “Shit?” Paul winced as he came over to stand beside her, looking over her shoulder into the dark. “What’s shit?”

           “The evac pods are gone.” Norah tuned out her friend’s frenzied cursing as she pounded on the glass, calling for her Captain. Could he even hear her through the reinforced windows? They were designed to withstand sudden changes in pressure—likely why they were still intact—but did that mean they also blocked out sound?

           The answer was no, they couldn’t, and Norah deflated with relief when Lucien turned around, face lighting up as he recognized first her then the men behind her.

           “Norah,” he called, his voice muffled but still intelligible through the glass as he rushed over. “You’re alive.” He didn’t sound like he believed it, but she could understand the sentiment. “The door’s jammed.”

           Right. Of course, it was. He probably would have left if it wasn’t. Norah quickly moved over to the control panel, mentally apologizing to the machine for hitting it as she tried to find some way to override the lock. Absently, she recognized the Captain giving orders to Paul and Rodrigo, both men rushing to obey, though Paul complained loudly between hissing breaths.

           “On a scale of one to ten, how bad’s my rig?”

           His attempt at humor fell a little flat and Norah looked up at him incredulously as the doors opened. “Uh,” she looked him up and down in the harsh white lights which conveniently decided to turn back on. His left arm was in a sling, miscellaneous bruises and cuts littered across his face. Shit. “Ten. We’re, um, seventy percent compromised—breathe too hard and we’re in trouble.”

           He didn’t appreciate her candor, turning away from her with a grim expression before turning back around and reaching for her face with his good hand, looking at her damaged ear with a grimace.

           “What happened,” she asked through chattering teeth, the two seconds she’d spent standing still reminding her body of how cold it was. “Was it an earthquake?”

           “I don’t know.” That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

           She watched, still somewhat dazed, as he pulled a large red med kit out from seemingly nowhere, using his one hand to its full effectiveness as he rummaged through it.

           “I don’t understand.” Her voice forced its way through her tight throat, swallowing only thickening the knot living there. “Why are you still here? There were pods here, you could have left.”

           He gave her a look she was sure he’d leveled on his child a thousand times before. It certainly made her feel like one. “That’s what Captains do.”

           “Who cares?” She couldn’t stop the words or the incredulity which laced them. “You have a kid. You should have gone up.”

           He froze, expression blank as his mouth opened and closed, eyes shut as he tried to find the words to respond to that. Instead, he urged her to sit down, returning to the med kit as though she hadn’t said anything.

           “You know any one of us would have shoved your ass into a pod—.”

           “Listen to me!”

           Norah shut her mouth, staring wide eyed at her Captain as he kneeled in front of her, mouth tense as he glared up at her. His French accent was thicker in his anger, coloring his words as he gestured wildly with his good arm.

           “Everyone is getting out of here alive.” He said it with such conviction, Norah was almost able to believe him. “You here me? I already sent twenty two up, Smith reported seven dead.”

           Warmth spread in her chest at the news that Smith, at least, was still alive. She hadn’t let herself consider any other possibilities but having her old friend’s survival confirmed relieved a tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She gave a stuttering report of the dead she and Rodrigo had found before coming across Paul, and she struggled past telling him about McClellen, nonsensical words spilling from her lips—she lived three floors up, I was brushing my teeth, her hands were still warm, I shut the bulkheads on the entire East Wing so there’s definitely more.

           Captain Lucien, to his credit, remained staunchly focused on cleaning her ear, damp gauze coming away from it bloody. Whatever was wrong with it, it stung when he touched it, the pain a welcome reminder that she was alive, only living people could bleed, and a grim one that so many people weren’t.

[lady-tortilla-chip]

4, 9, 16, 24, 30, 32, 44 for the fic asks 👀 (- thinkingisadangerouspastime)

I love seeing you here on tumblr again Amy!! 😘

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Three?? THREE??? Ah fuck. I’m linking more than that idgaf about RULES. That doesn’t say three it says five AT LEAST.

Works not by my friends:

Where Your Loyalties Lie (BSD fic which is glorious and an au so anyone out of the fandom can read it and experience it too)

The Iron King Sings (a song for the lover) (ATLA fic that is just an absolute masterpiece)

Works by my friends:

Baobao (THE tysuki fic which hasn’t left my mind nor my heart since I read it)

A Different Possibility ( @all-inmoderation I need you to know I think about this fic all the time)

It’s In Her Kiss, Black As Sea (also a fic which haunts me)

I’m leaving this list here but YALL the amount of my friends who have written LIFE changing fics is incredible and for the following question I am recommending them all.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

Again? THREE? Nope. The following people deserve ALL THE RECOGNITION AND LOVE

@praetorqueenreyna

@thinkingisadangerouspastime

@irresistible-revolution

@avatraang

@justoceanmyth

@azulaang-chakras

@shifuaang

@thetpot

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

The research I do is for the most random shit and it’s either way too deep and lasts for hours or shallow as a puddle and only enough to be vaguely accurate in my fic. And there is no in between. I also don’t research often for big things that I definitely should. I can’t tell you why.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

Hmmmm idk! I don’t think I hate any particular trope enough. For example, I don’t like soulmate aus but that’s because of the way they’re often written and not because there is anything inherently wrong with the trope itself.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

Sneaky sneaky 👀

Okie here just for you Amy-

Aang doesn’t think much of it when he goes to leave the temple, just that he needs to get away. Away from Katara’s sure and righteous anger and Sokka’s tried and true skepticism of it all. Everyone else isn’t aware of what occurred with Zuko though they’re all aware that something unpleasant happened. None of them have scraped up enough bravery to question either Katara or Sokka about it.

That’s for the best, Aang thinks. He doesn’t particularly care to hear a rehash of what happened in their words. Their version of it would just frustrate him, as much he knew because they thought Zuko was lying or playing at something when Aang already knew he wasn’t.

Doubted Zuko even had it in him to play a game like that.

Aang already knew he was sincere and hadn’t questioned that.

The question was whether Aang had any sincerity left to give back.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

For reasons that include I haven’t written funny much you’ll get one scene—

The mechanic rolled his eyes with another huff, though it was more for show than anything else. Rhodey was right, he usually was. “FRIDAY, can you believe him?”

“He’s right, boss, you’ve been making poor decisions regarding mister Strange since you realized your more than platonic feelings for him. I saw no reason to rebut any of his statements. Especially after what happened earlier.”

“My decisions haven’t been that bad.”

Rhodey gave him a funny look as FRIDAY responded with —“I will make no further comment.”

Tony’s eyes widened to a comical size as he said, “Baby girl I think your silence is worse.”

“I do not believe so, boss.”

44. Rant about something writing related.

Why is it so fucking HARD

[laurenairay]

Take a Chance - D. Hamilton

Word Count: 12.7k

Summary: Ashley Miller is a Sunday-morning regular at her local coffee shop. Dougie Hamilton is the associate art curator who catches her eye.

Warnings: coffee shop au, some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, anxiety

A/N: This is my @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange fic for @huttons​! I had a lot of fun researching & creating this fic gift, and I tried to incorporate all of the preferences you stated and that we discussed. This is very self-indulgent too, definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, and I’m not going to go into the very niche research rabbit holes I fell down! Bringing this OC to life made me so happy, and I had a blast incorporating the coffee shop au element. I hope you enjoy this! 💚

Also tagging @danglesnipecelly​, @texanstarslove​ and @itsbadgerbadgermushroom​ because they all listened to me stress while writing hah.

*

“Large latte for Ashley!”

Ashley Miller looked up from her laptop, smiling at her favourite barista at the counter. She got up from her table, leaving her laptop and scone briefly as she collected her drink, before heading back to her seat. Sunday mornings were the same every week – arrive at Storm Surge coffee shop when they opened at 7am, park herself at a table in the back corner, and consume a steady flow of coffee as she worked. Sure, her work might vary – teaching Medieval History at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill meant her lesson topics were all over the spectrum – but she just found that everything from writing notes for her classes that week to marking essays at the end of the semester became easier if she had the thrum of the coffee shop around her.

That, and she knew she’d just spend her entire weekend burrowed in her house if she didn’t get out.

Having moved to Raleigh 6 years ago to undertake her PhD, Ashley had accepted a teaching job at the very same university she’d studied at when she’d completed her studies a year ago, and she hadn’t looked back since. There was just something about Raleigh that she had fallen in love with, only a 30 minute drive away from her workplace, something that had spoken to her very soul, and actually being able to pass on knowledge about the subject that she was so passionate about made her so incredibly happy. Sure, her parents had never understood her love for 11th to 13th century European history (nor anyone else from her small town in South Dakota) but Ashley had never cared about that – New York had given her the opportunity to grow as a person during her undergraduate and postgraduate degrees, but Raleigh had given her the opportunity to thrive.

And she would forever be grateful for that.

Sundays though…Sundays were something she cherished. This independent coffee shop had been a blessing when she’d found it early on in her PhD research, and they had never complained about her taking up a table for essentially the whole day (and she did pay for each of the many coffees she consumed). Baristas and bakers had come and gone over the past 6 years, but there were a couple that had stuck around recently - and a year ago when she officially became ‘Dr Ashley Miller’, her favourite barista Andrei had even given her a piece of chocolate cake on the house to celebrate. Storm Surge coffee shop was a home away from home.

Of course, there was another reason that Sunday coffee shop time was one of her favourite things in her week…

Tall Cute Guy.

He was a regular every Sunday morning, and had been for the past year - three Sundays a month he would order a mocha and an americano to go, but one Sunday a month he would come in an hour earlier and order just an americano, and drink it in the shop instead while reading an old paperback book. Every single time, like clockwork.

Okay, yes, that sounded a little stalkerish. But he was so cute. Ashley pretty much always had her earphones in playing music so she had never caught his name, but his blonde curls, pretty blue eyes and warm smile had caught her eye straight away. And he was so tall, she couldn’t have missed him if she’d tried. She’d never spoken to him, never even said hi in passing, but occasionally she would link eyes with him and he would smile at her. And that smile was enough to send her heart fluttering. Ridiculous really, but it brought her a little joy.

What was the harm in smiling back at a cute guy every now and again, right?

*

Dougie Hamilton walked into the North Carolina Museum of Art with a smile on his face. To be honest, it could’ve been for a multitude of reasons. His career was finally heading upwards, having moved museums to become Associate Curator of European Art a couple of years ago, and he loved his work. He had recently renovated his kitchen, which was now looking pretty sleek and awesome, if he did say so himself. His colleagues had genuinely become some of his closest friends, and he had a standing monthly poker night with several of them. But his smile today wasn’t because of any of that.

No, his smile today was because it was Sunday morning, and he’d just picked up his regular coffee order for him and his boss.

Speaking of…

“So, did you finally talk to your coffee shop crush, or did you just awkwardly stare at her like a weirdo again?”

“Oh fuck off,” Dougie grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up in a fierce blush as his boss Jordie’s words.

It was far too early for this – he’d only just walked into their shared office for fuck’s sake! Jordie just hooted laughter at his embarrassment as he took his mocha from Dougie, making Dougie groan. “One day you’re going to have to talk to her, man. It’s just getting sad now,” Jordie teased.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t we have a museum to open?” Dougie scowled.

Jordie just beamed even more, wiggling his eyebrows as he left their office. Dougie groaned again, running his hands through is unruly hair before he sighed. Coffee shop crush. Hah. Jordie wasn’t wrong though. Not really. His crush…Mystery Laptop Woman…was one of the reasons he always volunteered to pick the two of them up coffee before the museum opened up on a Sunday morning. Jordie had come along with him only once to pick up their coffee, about 6 months ago, and ever since then he hadn’t let Dougie’s shy smile at her go. Of course, Dougie barely knew anything about her – only that she was always in early on a Sunday, always completely consumed by her work, and she had such a super cute concentration face, whatever it is that she worked on. He could never quite tell – sometimes she had a book or two with her, sometimes it was a stack of papers – but he knew for sure that she appeared to mainline coffee like a pro. Probably some kind of teacher?

He’d certainly never had a teacher that beautiful, that was for sure.

Her long dark hair was always down and always a little messy, like she ran her hands through it often (which she did, he’d noticed). Her warm hazel eyes were hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses, and her lips were always coloured in varying shades of dark pink and red. He’d only seen her standing a couple of times, but he’d caught enough of a glimpse of her long legs to have some very inappropriate thoughts. She just looked so kind, so friendly…and so beautiful. Dougie had never been able to catch her name though – she’d always had a full coffee or at least half a coffee left whenever he was in the shop, so he couldn’t even find out sneakily that way. But whoever she was, whatever she did, when he occasionally got lucky enough for her to look at him, her smile made his entire body light up like a fireworks show. It was a bit pathetic really, how much just a smile from her made his entire day, but he was a year into it now and he wasn’t going to stop that for anything. He had a great career, some great friends, and a pretty great life, even if he was tragically single.

What was the harm in smiling at a beautiful woman whenever he got the chance, right?

*

“Alright, we’ve nearly run out of time now, but just one final thing I want you to think about for Monday’s love in the middle ages class,”

On cue, her students groaned, making Ashley grin.

“Hey, I’m giving you a head’s up here – I could just let you walk into our general lecture blind?” she shrugged, teasing.

That got her a few laughs at least. She’d take that.

“Okay, so we know through our focus on the Medieval Expansion of Europe that one of the biggest tales about Eleanor of Aquitaine in the latter half of the 1100s was of her role in the courts of love. What I want you all to look into is whether these courts of love have the possibility of being a real thing, or whether they feed into the chivalric notions of her contemporaries and were fabricated from the courtly love dynamics of knights and maidens. Just to give us some talking points, okay?”

Her students murmured their agreement, with most of them writing down a reminder. That would have to be good enough for her. At least this way, hopefully someone would discuss the talking points with her in class – she’d found out the hard way last year that there was nothing worse for a university professor than completely uninterested students. She needed something to feed off.

“Alright then, class dismissed. Have a great weekend everyone!”

Ashley moved to her laptop, switching off the projected powerpoint presentation as her students filed out of the classroom, but jumped in shock slightly as she noticed the head of her department sitting in the back corner. How long had he been there?! What was he doing there in the first place? She just hoped her smile didn’t look as nervous as she felt, as he walked up to the front of the room.

Rod Brind’Amour was a legend in the History department for a good reason. His knowledge of military history pre-1800s was unmatched by anyone, but it was his research on the first and second crusades that had inspired Ashley through much of her PhD. Sure, he wasn’t her direct supervisor, but their work interlinked enough that she’d spent many office hours with him debating the second crusade with fervour. For such a big man, he was such a nerd, and he’d made her feel so welcome as soon as he offered her the teaching position at the end of her PhD, with the promise that she would be able to continue her research to inspire future minds. She had been so moved by his words that she hadn’t hesitated to accept the job. How could she not, when someone of his calibre believed in her?

One year in, she wasn’t regretting it at all

“Very smart, setting up some talking points for Monday’s class. I’m so glad I volunteered you to run this year’s Love in the Middle Ages lectures. You’re much better at them than I was,” Rod mused.

Ashley snorted, rolling her eyes playfully. Oh thank god. It’s true that this seminar was one part of the large mandatory Medieval and Early Modern Studies course…but it suited her perfectly.

“That’s because my research focuses on Medieval Queens and the exchange of power they brought to their marriage countries, whereas yours is the effect of each of the crusades through military history. Bleurgh,” she snickered, “Linking today’s Medieval Expansion of Europe class with the generic Love in the Middle Ages lectures on Mondays is just easy,”

“Speak for yourself,” Rod laughed, “give me military tactics any day,”

Ashley just grinned. Some things never changed. “Was there anything you wanted in particular?” she asked, packing up her laptop into its case.

“Just wanted to check in with you, in general,” Rod shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her desk.

Ashley couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness. “I’m doing okay yeah, thanks. Last year’s first semester was more of a struggle for sure, but I don’t have that transition from PhD student and TA to full teaching this time round. I’ve definitely settled in quicker – and this batch of freshman feel a lot more engaged already,”

“That’s good! It definitely shows that you’re handling things well,” Rod nodded, smiling back at her, “But I meant in your life outside of the university too,”

Ashley frowned. What? “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

Rod laughed softly at her expression. “I know last year you were trying to find your stride, but this year you’ve already got it, so I’m just checking that you’ve got things balanced outside of work too. It’s far too easy to make teaching your entire life – and I don’t want you to burn out,” Rod explained. “I value you here too much for that,”

Ashley’s heart melted a little at his concern, but she just shook his head. “I may not have much going on for me outside of work, but I do get out. I spend my Sundays in a local coffee shop,” she admitted.

Her mind briefly flashed to Tall Cute Guy, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind before she started blushing. So not appropriate for work.

Rod frowned slightly, but nodded. “At least you’re getting out of the house. Just promise me you’ll work on finding time for yourself too?”

“I promise,” Ashley nodded, “I intend to be here for a long time, so I definitely don’t want to burn out,”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Rod grinned, “I’d better get going – see you at the faculty meeting later?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ashley grimaced.

Rod just laughed at her disgruntled face, lifting his hand in a wave as he left the room. As she packed the rest of her belongings, Ashley couldn’t help but to think over Rod’s words. Was she in danger of a burn-out? Surely not, so early on in her career? Maybe she did need more of a balance in her life…but how?

*

Another Sunday, another early morning. Sure, Ashley could give herself a lie in every now and again, but that would mean not being able to relax on her Sunday evening, to not have the chance to unwind and reset before the working week starts up again on Monday morning. Spending all weekend in her little 2 bed house wouldn’t do her any good, even as comforting as she’d made it.

Besides, Storm Surge coffee shop was such a part of her routine now, that it would feel wrong to not go in at her usual time. Seeing Andrei the morning barista, Marty the supervisor and Jaccob the baker (who occasionally popped his head out) always made her happy – and as Rod said only a couple of days ago, she needed to make sure she actually kept a balance in her life.

So, as always, just after 7am, Ashley walked through the coffee shop door. She’d skipped eating any breakfast this morning, intent on getting one of the shop’s amazing scones fresh out of the oven, and as soon as she spotted her favourite blueberry-lemon scones in the display, something in her chest settled. Yes, this was exactly why she came every week. This feeling of home.

“Good morning Ashley! Your usual latte?”

Ashley smiled at Andrei, nodding. “Yes please. And one of the blueberry-lemon scones!”

Andrei smiled even wider, if that was possible, and immediate set about inputting her order into the cash register. It was then that she noticed something new on Andrei’s nametag. A pink sparkly kitten sticky. Huh. That was new.

“Nice sticker,” she teased.

“Very sparkly, no? Marty gave it to me,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, Marty did huh?” Ashley grinned.

Interestingly, Andrei blushed. She knew she hadn’t been imagining things. The poor Russian guy just blushed harder, spluttering incoherently, until Ashley took pity on him. It wasn’t like she could be mean to Andrei – he was just too adorable.

“I think the sticker is really cute, Andrei. It was sweet of Marty to give it to you,” Ashley said with a fond smile.

“Thank you! I will tell Marty you like it,” Andrei beamed.

Bless him.

Andrei handed her a scone on a plate, allowing her to go to her usual table in the back corner, setting up her laptop while she waited for her coffee to be ready. She heard a door out the back open, and Andrei quickly slipped away, making her smile.

“AHHHHHHHHHH MR SVECHNIKOV!”

Marty. Ashley just giggled, shaking her head before putting her earphones in for her background music. Yeah, this coffee shop definitely felt like home.

She quickly got lost in writing her lecture notes, going off on tangents that she knew she’d have to rein in later when she edited. It was a full hour before she even looked away from her screen, only to see the shop busy and bustling, every single table full. What the hell? She looked over to see both Andrei and Marty working the counter, only confirming her suspicions that they really had gotten busy while she was lost in her thoughts. Wow. Full at 8am was a new one for sure. Maybe a convention of some kind?

And it was then that she saw Tall Cute Guy walk in. Today he was wearing a pretty blue sweater, bring out the beautiful blue in his eyes, making her smile on instinct. So cute. But then she noticed him being given just the one coffee…he was planning on drinking in, and there were no tables? No!

It made her heart clench to watch him looking around the coffee shop, becoming more and more disheartened…until he noticed her. Maybe, could she, yes. Ashley bit her bottom lip but tilted her head towards the empty chair at her table, earning the biggest smile. She actually did it. She actually offered him the chair at her table. Shit. Her heart started beating faster as he walked over, and she took her earphones out as he came to a stop next to her seat, looming over her.

“I, uh…do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked softly.

Huh. Such a gentle voice on such a big man. Yeah she could totally handle this.

“Please, go ahead,” Ashley nodding, smiling as she waved her hand to indicate, “it’s so busy in here today,”

Oh no. Was that too forward, acknowledging that they’re both regulars?

“Definitely busier than usual, eh?” he mused, “I’ll try not to disturb your work, I’ll only be here for about an hour,”

Ashley laughed, but shook her head. She was just glad he hadn’t been weirded-out by her acknowledgement. That would’ve been so awkward. Her stomach was filled with enough butterflies as it was. “You won’t disturb me, I promise. Sit as long as you like,”

He smiled widely at her, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down, Ashley just quickly shuffling her papers out of the way for him. He nodded his thanks at her, pulling a paperback book out of his satchel. Then he cleared his throat, so she looked up at him curiously.

“I’m Dougie, by the way,” he said, almost a little shy.

Dougie. That was a nice name. Oh, wow, she finally knew his name! Ashley couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’m Ashley,”

He smiled back at her. “It’s nice to meet you properly,” he said happily.

Ashley just laughed, nodding as she blushed lightly. To have him acknowledge their smiling-from-a-distance definitely sparked something inside of her. Nice to finally meet him indeed.

They sat in comfortable silence, Ashley typing up her tangent notes so far for the morning, and she couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that sat in her chest. The cute guy she’d been smiling at for a year was sitting at her table with her…and it wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was really quite nice. And he’d introduced himself!

No, cool it, keep calm Ashley. No-one got anywhere by acting like a giddy schoolgirl. Play it cool.

That promised hour flew by far too quickly. Every now and again she would glance up and find his eyes on her. Every now and again she would glance up only for him to look up and catching her looking. Every time she would blush. Every time he would send her a wonderful smile. But all too soon her table companion was standing up and putting his book in his bag.

“Um…”

Ashley looked up from her work at him, a smile naturally spreading across her face at his nervous expression. Why was he nervous?

“Yes, Dougie?” she said softly, smiling at a little more at finally getting to say his name.

Dougie. Dougie. Dougie.

“I’ll see you soon?” he said, almost hopefully.

“I’ll be here,” she nodded.

Oh god. Well that was stupid. Of course she’d be here. Why couldn’t she just act smoothly for once in her life?

But then Dougie smiled, such a happy little smile that it made her breath catch in her throat.

“Until next time then,” Dougie murmured, “Bye, Ashley,”

“Bye,” she breathed, watching him walk way.

Well, that could’ve been worse. What a Sunday.

*

Things felt different after that fateful Sunday. Dougie (she knew his name!) hadn’t sat down with her again, or even sat in the shop again yet, but now…now he always made a point of waving at her, waiting until she had waved back to smile. Those waves sent her into even more of a tizzy, a light blush always on her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but cherish them. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, but he was so handsome and he noticed her. It didn’t hurt to pretend it was more than friendly acknowledgement, right? A girl could dream at least.

It was only Wednesday today, but that meant only one thing. Her weekly phone call with her mom. Knowing Susan Miller, Ashley could picture exactly what her mom was doing. Her phone would be propped up on speakerphone while she pottered around the kitchen, finishing off making dinner while also planning what desserts to bake at the weekend. Her mom led a simple life, a retired teacher herself (although she’d taught at the local elementary school rather than ever leaving town), but it was a happy life. And it was these phone calls that were the only thing that made Ashley miss home.

Nothing was the same as a hug from her mom with a slice of homemade apple pie. But those were the sacrifices she made for her love of Medieval History. They never stayed on the for more than half an hour, but it was just enough to fill Ashley’s heart, at least for a little while.

“And I swear, if he doesn’t stop leaving those nasty cigar butts on the front porch, I’m going to whoop some sense into him!”

“You’ve been saying this for over 20 years mom – I don’t think dad is going to change at this point,” Ashley mused, rolling her eyes fondly.

Her dad had been set in his ways for as long as she could remember. Nothing was going to change that, not even a little nagging from the love of his life.

“Yes, well, he could at least clean up after himself,”

Her parents really were ridiculous human beings – but they loved each other, and that was all that mattered. Even if her dad didn’t clean up his cigar butts.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you weren’t complaining about his cigar butts,” Ashley grinned. “Maybe threaten not to make that corned beef hash he likes. That might help,”

The laughter that flowed down the phone made her smile even more. Fuck she missed hearing her mom’s laugh in person.

“Oh I miss you sweetpea. Are you sure you’re okay down there by yourself?”

“Yes mom, you know I love my work and my life down here,” Ashley said, sighing softly.

Here we go again.

“I just worry about you rattling around in that old house by yourself!”

Rude. It wasn’t that old.

“I promise I’m fine!” Ashley insisted.

Her mom stayed silent, making Ashley bite her lip to stop herself getting frustrated. Her mom would come out with it eventually…

“I worry about you being lonely, that’s all. You’re such an introvert, you always have been,”

And there it was.

“How could I be lonely mom? I have great colleagues that I talk with. And I’m around students all day and I interact all the time with them! And the baristas at my coffee shop know me by name and we chat too,” Ashley listed.

“The baristas don’t count, Ash,”

Poor Andrei. He definitely counted. Ashley couldn’t help but giggle at the sigh in her mom’s voice though. “Okay maybe not, but there is a guy that I’ve talked to,”

“Ooh a guy?”

Oh no. Oh what had she done? She had to nip this in the bud now.

“No, mom, not like that, just a friendly face to wave at,” Ashley insisted.

Dougie’s shy smiles filled her mind, but she shook her head. Now was not the time.

“Oh boo, you should work on changing that,”

Hah. If only.

“You’re impossible, mom,” Ashley sighed fondly.

“I love you too darling,”

*

Today he was going to do it. Today Dougie was going to get to Storm Surge coffee shop a little early, get his americano to drink in…and hopefully sit with Ashley again. Ever since that amazing Sunday morning where she offered him a seat at her table (she offered him!), he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He could kick himself for not being able to do more than wave at her the past three Sundays, but even just the few smiles he seen in passing since have blown him away. Especially with that cute little blush she always had when she waved back at him.

But today he was coming in an hour before he had to get to work, just to have that chance to sit with her and talk with her. Was it a little desperate? Sure. But Dougie never claimed to be anything other than desperate to get to know the beautiful woman he’d only ever seen in passing until now. His schedule didn’t usually allow him the chance – every Sunday the North Carolina Museum of Art opened from 10-5, and he usually got there just after 9 with coffee for him and Jordie, but every fourth Sunday Jordie came in a little later, so Dougie took the time to sit in and read a little before heading into work…and it was the fourth Sunday today. He could only hope that all the nerves and butterflies would be worth it.

Oh fuck, what if she wasn’t even there?

No, she would be. She always was. Enough stalling.

Still…

Dougie walked into Storm Surge with a little ball of nervous anxiety in his chest, praying that Ashley wouldn’t stray from her routine, until he looked over into the back corner…and there she was. He waited until Ashley looked up at him to wave at her, earning a sweet smile and a wave back. Wow, her blush really was so sweet.

“Dougie! You must be drinking in today, yes?”

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Andrei’s voice, quickly nodding. “Yeah just the usual americano, thanks,”

“You got it,” Andrei nodded, beaming at him.

Dougie quickly paid and moved to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. The shop was only half-full at this time in the morning, unlike last month, so he didn’t have the excuse of busy tables. Maybe…he could just walk up to her, right? He could take that chance, right? Yeah, he could do this.

“Here you go!” Andrei said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Dougie murmured.

The barista gave him a strange look at his distracted tone, and Dougie knew that Andrei was watching as he walked over to Ashley’s table…but here goes nothing. He could totally do this. He was an adult. He paid his taxes on time and everything. He could definitely ask a pretty woman if he could sit with her again.

“Hey, Ashley,”

She looked up from her laptop with a bright smile, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Dougie! Hi!” she said happily.

She remembered his name! Wow. No, focus.

“Do you, um…do you mind if I sit with you again?” Dougie asked.

Oh god, why couldn’t he just sound cool for once in his life? Why did he always have to be the least smooth version of himself that he could possibly be?

Ashley took one look around at all the empty tables and blushed even more, before she bit her lip and nodded. “Sure, go for it,”

That was a good sign, right?

Dougie sat down with a nervous smile, putting his coffee gently on the table.

“So, um, how have you been?”

Ashley looked surprised (oh god, was she only being polite before?) before that melted into a pleased look. Okay, he could work with that.

“I’ve been pretty good thanks, yeah. I’m just revising the list of essay topics that I’m giving my students on Monday, so not too much work to do today thankfully,” she said, “How about you?”

“I’ve been alright yeah. Work has been a little nuts with the new exhibition at the museum but it’s all come together really well!” Dougie said, beaming. What? Could a man not be excited about artwork? “what do you teach?”

Ashley smiled shyly, looking a little hesitant again. Dougie couldn’t help but frown a little. Had people made her feel awkward about her work before? That wasn’t okay! “I’m a Medieval History professor at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. My general focus is on the power of Medieval queens, but I teach everything from the expansion of medieval Europe to love in the middle ages, as well as on the general medieval and early modern history modules. I did my undergraduate and masters degrees at NYU, but I moved down here for the PhD opportunity. It’s now my second full year teaching and I just…I love it so much,”

A PhD?! Holy shit, that’s impressive. Wow. Just…wow. How could she be any more perfect?

“That’s incredible!” was all that Dougie could say.

“You don’t have to pretend, I know having a PhD isn’t exactly the coolest thing in the world, especially in medieval history,” Ashley mused.

Well it was definitely pretty fucking cool to him, no matter what other people had ever said to her. “I’m definitely not pretending, I promise. Medieval history is fascinating,” he insisted.

Ashley pursed her lips like she didn’t believe him, making Dougie laugh.

“I’m serious! I may not have a PhD but my masters thesis was a specialism in Rembrandt’s work. I’m a total art history nerd – 14th-17th century in particular,” Dougie explained.

Come on, let the nerdiness pay off for once…

Her face immediately lightened, her mouth forming into a surprised ‘o’, making him laugh again. At least, he hoped it was a good surprise?

“One of the classes I’ll be teaching next semester is Italian Renaissance and European History to 1650,” she murmured.

Holy shit. What a match up.

“Told you I wasn’t pretending to be interested,” Dougie grinned, “I’d definitely love to learn more about that class when you start it,”

Ashley blushed again, but her nervous smile had shifted into a full beaming smile, and his heart could only just about take it. Then she froze slightly, blinking, as if she’d forgotten something. What?

“Sorry, did you say museum earlier?” Ashley said suddenly, “like, you work at a museum?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” Dougie nodded.

He did his best not to puff out his chest in pride. He’d worked damned hard on his career and he was proud of it.

“I just…wow, I wouldn’t have expected it,”

Dougie laughed, raising an eyebrow at her sheepish smile.

“A guy who looks like you, like such an athlete’s build…oh god, sorry, that’s so rude of me,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

But Dougie just laughed, shaking his head. “Believe me, it’s far from the first time I’ve heard that,”

And never with such appreciation of his body either…

Look, he knew how the world perceived him on first glance. Tall, muscled guy, blonde hair and blue eyes, probably an all-american jock right? How he loved proving them wrong.

“Still doesn’t make it okay,” Ashley winced, “so I’m sorry,”

“Apology accepted,” Dougie mused, “I love my work, so it’s fun surprising people. Especially people with similar interests,”

Ashley bit her lip again but nodded and smiled, tilting her head to show she was listening. Wow, he could definitely get used to her looking at him with this much interest.

“Like I said, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art. I’m actually Canadian, but I finished my masters degree in Boston and went straight into working at the MFA, but after working on a brief project in Calgary, I realised I wanted to work more in my specialist interests, y’know? So I applied for a role at the Museum of Art here, and became the associate curator of European Art. It’s…it’s everything I could’ve wished for, when I was studying,”

Dougie took a sip of his coffee while Ashley processed that flood of information, hoping he hadn’t come across too strong. People really did tend to zone out when he talked about his work…but hopefully because she also had an interest in European history and art, she wouldn’t be put off?

“I can definitely relate to following and achieving my passions for a niche subject,” Ashley grinned, “and I love that you love it so much. It’s rare, to find someone who gets such genuine joy out of their work. Even though work can sometimes be super stressful,”

“Stressful, but worth it. Especially when a new exhibition comes together so well,” Dougie agreed.

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dougie licked his bottom lip, trying not to look too nervous. This exhibition is such a big deal, and it had been such a lot of work. He could get a little excited about it now, right?

“Yeah, I’ve been working solidly for the past few months on the new exhibition – it’s opening next weekend. It’s a collection of Italian Renaissance Art,” Dougie said, a little hesitant.

Hesitant…because maybe that was a bit flashy? Did it sound like he was bragging? He really hoped not – not just because he was so proud of his work but he genuinely did want to excite Ashley…

“Oh no way! Really?” Ashley gasped.

Dougie bit his lips to control his grin. Oh thank fuck. Finally, someone he could actually impress with his love of art history. “Yeah, last quarter the museum acquired over 30 paintings from the 14th century from various collectors and this will be the first time they’ve all been together in the same room,”

“I bet they’ll be so beautiful all together after so long,” Ashley said, her voice a little wistful.

Wistful? He could fix that. Maybe. Yes, this was the perfect opportunity…

“Maybe we could…I know this might feel a little soon, but I’m…

Dougie trailed off with a frustrated groan, making Ashley giggle. For once, just once, let him be smooth! He took a deep breath, before trying again.

“Would you like to come to the exhibition opening with me?” he asked softly.

Ashley’s jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly nodded, making Dougie’s heartbeat kick up a notch. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a plus one as the associate curator, and there’s no-one else I could imagine going with. I think you’d love it,” Dougie explained, “and I’d love to show you the artwork,”

Was that too desperate?

“I’d…wow, I’d love to go with you,” Ashley said, her expression shy but pleased.

Shy but pleased. He could work with that.

“Great, it’s a date!”

Oh God. Dougie could only freeze…but then Ashley smiled. Huh, maybe not so cringey?

“A date huh? I’d love that too,” Ashley said shyly.

Oh thank fuck. Ashley just giggled at Dougie’s blush.

“Give me your number and I’ll text you the details?” Dougie suggested, trying to salvage at least a little bit of his dignity.

As Ashley took his phone from him and entered her phone number, Dougie could only sit in shocked silence. He’d done it. He’d actually asked her on a date. On a date where he could impress her with a topic they both loved so much. All he had to do now was not fuck it up.

That wouldn’t be so hard, right?

*

Ashley had been in a little bit of a daze when Dougie had left for work. He’d asked her on a date. On a date! And they’d exchanged numbers, Dougie having sent her a little smiley face so she had his number in return. She was just thankful that there wasn’t much work for her to do that day – there was no way she wouldn’t been able to focus otherwise.

And then throughout the week, they’d started exchanging cute little messages. Just sweet little things, like how was your day? and look how cute this dog is and I had the loudest school tour group come through the museum today and which of these texts is going to give me the worst teacher rating? – it was all silly and sweet and fun, and Ashley couldn’t remember the last time that the potential of a relationship had excited her so much.

There was just something about Dougie that made her heart beat a little faster every time she thought of him. It was bad enough when he would smile at her in passing in Storm Surge…but now, with every little text, she felt herself smiling even more than she could’ve imagined, like a giddy little schoolgirl with a first crush.

Because at the moment, it really was just a crush. They hadn’t gone out on their first date yet – in reality, they’d only sat together twice, with one of those times essentially being the exchange of their names. They’d only had one conversation in person. And the texts were so sweet and lovely…but they were just texts. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself and get her hopes up, you know? God knows that had happened enough times.

She couldn’t help but hope that finally, she had met someone with real potential. Dougie made it easy to hope.

Ashley supposed that their first date would be the real test of whether she’d just built up all the excitement of Tall Cute Guy in that coffee shop fantasy in her head, or whether he was the real deal. Their conversation in person on Sunday had been such a good start, but fuck please make him the real deal.

Was it really that much to ask?

Finally Friday rolled around and she was finished with work for the week. Well, mostly. Ashley had just come out of a bi-monthly faculty meeting and just had to check some emails before she could go home for the weekend (and to shave her legs because she found the cutest dress for her date on Saturday) – but as she got to her office, she noticed that Rod had stopped in the doorway, waving to some of their colleagues as they strolled past. Hmm.

“So…you’re looking incredibly chipper for someone who just got out of a tedious faculty meeting,” Rod teased, leaning against her doorframe.

Ashley just laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she sat at her desk. “I don’t know why you complain so much – you’re the one who runs them,”

“Not through choice, I promise that,” Rod mused, shaking his head, “But you are looking extra cheerful today. Just feeling a little nosy, I guess,”

Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Should she tell him about her date? It’s not like Rod was a gossip…and it’s not like she had a whole host of friends to tell…

“I may or may not have a date tomorrow night,” Ashley eventually admitted.

His eyes immediately lit up. Oh God.

“Ooh a date, exciting!” Rod gasped dramatically, fanning himself like a southern belle.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Ashley giggled. That could’ve gone worse – but his excitement definitely lit up the butterflies in her stomach all over again.

Rod just laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just glad you’re giving someone a chance to sweep you off your feet,” he teased, “Who is he and where is he taking you?”

“He’s a guy I met in that coffee shop I go to on a Sunday, and he’s taking me to the new Italian Renaissance exhibition at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” she explained.

And she couldn’t wait.

“A cultured guy or a try hard?” he smirked.

“A cultured guy,” Ashley giggled, rolling her eyes, “he’s actually the associate curator who worked on setting up the exhibition,”

“Don’t we all love a man who knows his history, even if it is art,” Rod grinned, winking dramatically, earning another giggle, “Let me know how the exhibition is - I know my wife would love to go if it’s any good,”

“I’ll give you a full review on Monday,” Ashley agreed, nodding.

“And a full review of your date,” Rod grinned.

“Okay, out, out. I need to finish these emails before I leave,” Ashley laughed.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Rod mused, “If you need anything, even an escape clause tomorrow night, send me a text, okay?”

Her heart softened a little at his kind gesture, and she found herself nodding. “I don’t think it’ll come to that, but thank you, I appreciate it,”

“Any time,” Rod nodded.

Ashley bit her bottom lip to hide her grin as he shut the door behind him on the way out, and the butterflies in her stomach were still there. Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough.

*

Tonight was the night. Ashley only had a few minutes left before her uber arrived to pick her up to take her to the museum, and she couldn’t resist having a final glance in the mirror by her front door. She’d had a little panic over what the hell the dress code would be for a gallery opening, but after Dougie confirmed it wasn’t black tie, just formal dress, Ashley had consulted with some of her college friends (who were buzzing about the fact that she was actually going on a date), and decided that a midi cocktail dress was the way to go.

And she’d found the perfect one.

The dress she’d picked out in a local boutique was a beautiful forest green colour, complimenting her dark hair and hazel eyes perfectly. It fell to the middle of her shins, as her friends had recommended, and had thick shoulders straps, no sleeves but a neckline with a deep enough v that it should a little cleavage (classy cleavage of course, very sophisticated in her opinion). Her favourite part though was the Marilyn Monroe-esque twirl to the skirt – something she’d tested out several times already – and she just felt glamorous in it. She’d straightened her usually-messy hair and put on a little make-up too, to match the effort she was making with the dress. To be honest, Ashley felt beautiful, and she honestly couldn’t wait to see Dougie’s reaction. It was a hell of a lot different to her usual Sunday Storm Surge outfits, that’s for sure.

Soon enough, her uber was pulling up outside of the Museum of Art, and she thanked the driver as she got out. Thankfully, Dougie was already waiting at the top of the steps for her, and the smile that he sent her way made her breath catch in her throat. Ashley took the time to check him out as she walked up towards him, and she felt those butterflies start up again. He was wearing a gorgeous navy blue suit with a white shirt and grey tie, bringing out the colour of his eyes beautifully, and the stunned expression on his face as he looked at her made her blush a little. That was a good reaction, right?

“Wow. You look…amazing,” Dougie murmured, looking her up and down with awe.

Definitely a good reaction.

“You look really good too,” she grinned.

Dougie grinned back at her, before offering her his arm. “Shall we?”

Ashley fought not to squeal as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. What a smooth move. “Lead the way,”

Dougie walked her inside, picking up a glass of champagne each after they dropped their jackets off. Then they were off. The two of them wandered around through the exhibition, Dougie guiding her and giving her the most indepth information she could’ve possibly hoped for. She’d never had such a personal tour like this, and he was so shy yet so knowledgeable that she couldn’t help but to drink up every word. This was what she had hoped for out of tonight, that passion coming through Dougie, and she was receiving it tenfold.

“This one is one of my favourites. Batoni’s The Triumph of Venice. There’s just so much going on, and I swear I notice something different every time I look at it,”

Ashley looked at the painting, taking in the many figures, the details, the colours, and couldn’t help but smile. It truly was a masterpiece.

“Oil on canvas? Maybe…early 1700s?” she guessed.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Dougie breathed.

He immediately flushed bright red, making Ashley giggle. Good to know that her vague art history knowledge was paying off. And that she could make him react like that…

“I love all the finessed detail in this one. Especially on the carriage – it’s exquisite,” Ashley murmured, looking back at it.

“Isn’t it?” Dougie grinned.

Ashley squeezed his arm gently, smiling up at him, earning a happy smile back. He was so clearly in his element, and she was loving every second. The way his entire face lit up when he talked about art…there was something just so beautiful in that. Those beautiful blue eyes were even more alive than ever, that spark of passion adding such a gorgeous element, and she really wanted to see more of it. That was a good sign, right? That she was already imagining more.

They moved on to the next painting, and Ashley’s breath caught in her throat. Wow.

“And this…this is the star of the collection. Giotto’s Peruzzi Altarpiece, the only complete altarpiece by the artist outside of Italy,”

Her jaw dropped a little. That was a big deal. “The only one?”

“The only one,” Dougie nodded.

“Holy shit,” Ashley mumbled, eyes wide.

Dougie grinned at her. “My sentiments exactly,”

“All of that gold. So much gold. And the details in their faces. Holy shit,” Ashley murmured.

“One of my favourite frescos, and I get to see it every day,” Dougie sighed happily.

“Well count me as jealous,” Ashley teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

Dougie just smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was just so cute.

“Would you, um…would you like a new drink?”

“Sure, another couldn’t hurt,” she nodded.

It’s not like she drank champagne that often after all. And it was a special occasion…

They stayed in the museum for another hour, looking over some of the art again as well as mingling with Dougie’s colleagues (including a mostly silent guy Dougie introduced as ‘Foegs’, who gave Dougie a double thumbs up when he thought she wasn’t looking, and a very enthusiastic big blonde man named Jordie, who she learned was Dougie’s boss – which, wow). Their conversation just flowed, and the doubts that she’d had earlier were easily shoved to the back of her mind.

She’d never thought it would feel so natural spending the evening arm-in-arm with a guy, but Dougie had just blown her away.

All too soon, it was time to leave the museum though, and while Dougie got their jackets, Ashley opened her phone to request an uber. 5 minutes away. Perfect.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Dougie murmured, when they were waiting outside.

His own uber was only a couple of minutes behind hers.

“Me too,” Ashley admitted, smiling up at him, “Thank you for inviting me,”

“There’s no-one else I would’ve wanted to take. I just glad you enjoyed it,” Dougie smiled back.

“I enjoyed spending time with you. The exhibition was just a bonus,” she said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Holy shit she just flirted. Blatantly flirted. Too much?

But then Dougie blushed a little, before a small smirk spread across his lips. “Yeah?”

Ashley just bit her lip, nodding. Dougie’s blue eyes flashed a little darker, sending a hot jolt running through her body. Oh wow. Just like that huh. But then her phone buzzed, the uber car pulling up to the curb, breaking her out of her thoughts just before they started to spiral.

Calm down Ashley, it’s only the first date!

She waved at the uber driver to signal that she’d seen him before turning back to Dougie. “See you tomorrow?” Ashley asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll be starting work a little later on the one off, as it was the exhibition opening tonight,” Dougie nodded, “I’ll be there,”

Ashley grinned at him, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, laughing softly as his jaw dropped.

“Bye, Dougie,” she said softly, walking over to the car.

“Bye,” she heard him murmur, just as she closed the door.

“Hot date?” the uber driver teased.

“The hottest,” she grinned back.

That earned her a laugh, and she couldn’t help but smile as the driver pulled away from the curb. Ashley glanced out of the window, only to see that Dougie hadn’t moved at all – other than his fingers brushing over where she’d kissed his cheek, a hopeless smile on his face.

What a first date indeed.

*

To: Ashley

From: Rod

So how did the date go?

~

To: Rod

From: Ashley

The exhibition was incredible. You need to take your wife, for real.

~

To: Ashley

From: Rod

I actually meant the guy but sure…

~

To: Rod

From: Ashley

He was a perfect gentleman and…amazing.

You’ll get your full gossip on Monday.

~

To: Ashley

From: Rod

Boo fine.

I’m glad you had a good time though!

See you on Monday

*

 “I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

“I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

“I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

Wasn’t the saying that if things seemed too good to be true, then they probably were not?

Ashley had gone to bed feeling over the moon, elated, bubbling with excitement. But when she’d woken up, it was like a dark cloud had settled over her, a heavy rock of anxiety sitting on her chest. Everything had gone so well last night. So well. Too well? This wasn’t the first time that she’d gotten her hopes up only to have things fall apart around her – and her hopes had skyrocketed last night. All she felt was like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it made her feel sick.

That niggling negativity had swum around her brain over and over again, and she hadn’t been able to shut it off – not when she showered, not when she got dressed, and not when she sat on the sofa debating whether or not to actually turn up at the coffee shop.

Was this really what things had come down to? Tempted to break her solid routine, the exact routine she’d had every week, just because a guy made her nervous? Was he really that important? Was she really that much of a coward?

She sat on the sofa so long that she passed the time she would normally leave. Hell, she passed the time she would normally be sitting down at her usual table. Oh god she couldn’t take this. It was too much. Her legs bounced nervously as she pulled up the message thread she had with him, typing out a message to cancel…

…and then she deleted it.

Fuck that shit. No matter how anxious this whole dating thing made her feel, nothing was worth this. She couldn’t just not show up, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t her. Fuck this. As quickly as she could, Ashley grabbed her laptop and her handbag, driving as fast as she could to Storm Surge.

When she parked her car, she noticed that she had a few texts from Dougie. Oh god.

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Hey, I’m coming a little earlier than usual today!

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Are you running late?

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Are you coming?

~

Oh god. Ashley winced, practically running to the shop, immediately spotting Dougie at her usual table in the back. The sheer relief on his face made her wince again. Fuck. His expression dimmed at little, but she quickly ordered her usual latte from Andrei, who looked an interesting mix of confused and concerned, but she headed over to Dougie without hesitating.

“Hey, um, sorry I’m late,” she murmured, setting her coffee and her laptop down on the table.

Dougie frowned at her briefly, clearly taking in whatever the hell her face was showing.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly.

Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Might as well tell him the truth, right?

“I, uh, I was second-guessing everything?”

“Second-guessing?” Dougie asked, frowning harder.

Ashley just sighed. “Yeah, um, it’s dumb. I just…it all seems too good to be true? I woke up feeling like I’d gotten my hopes up and…fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel stupid now,”

Looking up at Dougie’s sad face immediately made her regret telling the truth, but it was too late now. Fuck. Why did she have to ruin everything? The fact that he was staying silent just made everything worse. Should she just go?

“What do you want to do now then?” Dougie eventually asked “or do you not know?”

Ashley swallowed heavily, looking down at her hands briefly. Hah. The million dollar question. “I know that I like you?” she offered.

Dougie huffed a laugh. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to get mad if you don’t want to go on another date,” Dougie said with a sad smile.

Oh god that was worse. He should never sound that disheartened – it wasn’t right. And it was all her fault.

“Would you even want to go on a date with me again when I’m this much of an anxious mess?” Ashley sighed.

After last night, this really wasn’t where she’d seen her day going. Self-sabotage was a bitch. But it was her own damn fault. It always was. But then Dougie reached his hand forward, fingers brushing over hers lightly to get her attention, making her blush as he smiled a bit more genuinely.

“Yeah, I would like to,” he nodded, “I had a really great time yesterday night, and I still want more,”

Oh, so maybe she hadn’t ruined everything then. What? Well shit, she was grabbing this second chance with both hands.

“I had a great time too,” Ashley admitted, blushing a little bit more, “even with this stupid anxiety,”

“Good. That’s…that’s really good,” Dougie laughed, “well, not the anxiety part, but I’m going to prove to you that this isn’t just getting your hopes up,”

“I’d like that,” she murmured.

Dougie smiled at her, a truly genuine happiness, making her breath catch in her throat. Fuck she didn’t deserve this. But there was no way she was going to let herself ruin this, not now.

“Maybe we could just talk for a couple of hours before I have to go into work? Have some coffee, a couple of those delicious blueberry-lemon scones, and just see where things go?” Dougie suggested.

Ashley nodded, the tight ball in her chest immediately loosening. God, he was such a nice guy. “I’d definitely like to get to know you more,” she agreed.

“Scones are on me then,” Dougie grinned.

Hope. A second chance. Bring it on.

*

When Dougie eventually walked into work, his shared office had more people in it that he cared for. Well, okay, that was a little mean. But right now was not the best time for the combination of Jordie and Foegs as well as Sebastian and Teuvo, especially not when all four of them had met Ashley last night. Not when they were all so intense. Not while things were still so tentative.

“So, how did it go?” Jordie asked excitedly, “it looked like the two of you were having fun!”

And here we go.

“Well last night, at the exhibition, went really well, but…”

Jordie and Foegs frowned as he trailed off, Sebastian and Teuvo just looked confused. Dougie sighed and sat down heavily at his desk.

“She was really hesitant this morning. Like, so full of anxiety that she almost didn’t show up for coffee,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” Jordie asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“She thinks it’s too good to be true?” Dougie winced.

Foegs looked a little stunned, Jordie’s jaw dropping. But then Sebastian jumped to his feet from where he was sitting on Jordie’s desk.

“Well then you’ll just have to sweep her off her feet!” Sebastian said firmly.

Really? Dougie sent him an unimpressed look, but Sebastian’s pout stayed serious as Teuvo giggled.

“As much as I hate to say it, Sepe has a point,” Foegs shrugged, making Sebastian stick out his tongue at him, “the two of you looked like you’d really hit it off when we were all talking, and the fact that Ashley did meet you this morning means a little anxiety shouldn’t stand in the way,”

“Take her on another date. Wine and dine, man. It’s a classic for a reason,” Jordie added, nodding seriously.

Well shit, if Jordie was being serious then maybe it would work.

“Thanks guys,” Dougie murmured, smiling softly.

“Anything to land you the woman of your many dreams,” Jordie beamed.

Dougie just blushed. Sebastian wriggled his eyebrows, Teuvo just punching him on the arm. It was almost a nice moment.

He waited until Foegs, Sebastian and Teuvo had left to start working before he pulled his phone out, biting his bottom lip as he thought of what to say.

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Hey, I’m glad I saw you today.

I hope you’re still doing okay.

How do you feel about getting dinner with me?

~

Dougie jiggled his leg nervously as he logged into his computer, waiting with baited breath for any reply.

And then eventually, his phone buzzed. Ashley. Thank god.

~

To: Dougie

From: Ashley

I’m alright thanks. That scone definitely helped ;)

I would love to get dinner with you.

~

Dougie couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Good. This was good. They exchanged a few more messages, eventually figuring out that because of his next few late nights with the exhibition and her essays she had to mark, neither of them were really free until next Saturday. A whole week away again. Fuck. No, this was going to work. Dougie knew it was worth it – and if she needed him to text a lot over the next few days to remind her that he was all in, that he wasn’t just going to disappoint her like those other guys, then he absolutely would.

Wine and dine next Saturday. He could absolutely do this.

“Hey, what was the name of that place you took your wife out for date night a couple of weeks back?” Dougie asked, looking up at his boss.

Jordie’s face lit up. “Oh man, it was so good…”

*

As Dougie promised himself, they kept texting throughout the week. He told her fun stories from visitors to the exhibition. She told him silly comments her students made that she couldn’t respond to without laughing in class. He told her all about his time in Boston. She told him all about her time in New York. He sent her a picture of the cutest trio of dogs his neighbours adopted. She sent him a picture of a sunset that took her breath away. Things were…good. He was just glad that Ashley seemed as enthusiastic as she was before their first date.

All he could hope was that he was proving to her that he was different. That he was serious about giving their budding relationship a shot. He hadn’t bonded with someone as quickly as this, as deeply as this, ever – so he wanted to see where it went. The unknown with Ashley genuinely excited him, and he wanted her to feel the same excitement.

He could only try to be good enough to deserve her.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Dougie was a nervous wreck. He’d left work exactly on time for once, Jordie giving him a thump on the shoulder and Foegs a thumbs up (he mostly ignored Sebastian and Teuvo’s shimmies), racing home to change into a nice sweater and his favourite pair of smart jeans. Casual but like he cared about making an impression. That was what he was aiming for.

And then Ashley arrived 10 minutes early, just after he’d arrived himself, looking nervous but happy in the prettiest baby blue tea-dress he’d ever seen, with her hair curled and wearing a pretty pink lipstick. Wow.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted.

Oh god. Mr Smooth, again.

Ashley just blushed, smiling up at him. “Thank you. I love your sweater,”

Dougie blushed in return. What a pair they made.

“After you,” he said, opening the restaurant door for her.

As much as her anxiety had worried him, he was so glad he didn’t give up – she was absolutely worth it. They were lead to their table, Dougie being a bit extra and pulling out Ashley’s chair for her, but the giggle he got in return was what he was aiming for. Wine and dine. Sweep her off her feet. That’s all that he wanted to do, and if it was working then he wasn’t going to stop now.

“I was thinking we could split a bottle of wine tonight, if you want?” Dougie offered.

“Yeah that sounds good to me,” Ashley nodded, “Maybe a white wine?”

That was more than okay with him. Red wine made him a little…over the top? He definitely talked too much when he had red wine, he knew that much, and he wanted to save at least a little dignity tonight. Hopefully, at least.

The wine was ordered, and by the time they each had a cold glass of sauvignon blanc, Ashley looked as relaxed as Dougie felt. He could only hope the rest of this night turned out the same way.

“So did I tell you what one of Rod’s students said to him yesterday?”

Dougie grinned, shaking his head. “No you didn’t!”

Ashley grinned back. “Well…”

They talked for hours, sharing stories about their jobs, their interests, their families, not stopping when any of their three courses came, not hesitating even once. Nothing was awkward in the slightest – their conversation just flowed like they’d known each other for years, and Dougie’s heart was just so happy. This was everything he’d wanted for so long, someone he could truly been 100% himself with, and he couldn’t believe that she seemed as into him as he was into her.

How was this possible, after only two dates?

Time flew by so fast, too fast, and they did eventually have to leave their table, even as much as Dougie didn’t want the night to end. He just felt utterly consumed by her, completely and utterly lost in her very being, and he didn’t want this feeling to stop for anything.

It probably didn’t help that they’d split three bottles of wine though.

It wasn’t enough to make either of them sloppy drunk, not with the delicious food they’d eaten, but Ashley was definitely a bit more giggly than usual, and he was definitely smiling like an idiot.

“I wish your uber wasn’t on its way,” Dougie sighed, when they were outside.

“I’m actually not a far walk from here, so I was just going to walk home?”

At this time of night? Absolutely not! Ashley saw the look of indignation of his face and burst into laughter, making him blush (again). What? He wasn’t wrong for being worried about her getting home safely.

“You could always walk me home?” she suggested.

Oh. Oh. Oh yeah okay, he could do that.

“Yeah, definitely,” Dougie nodded quickly.

Dougie’s heart started beating a little faster as she looped her arm through his, and it was all he could do not to smile at her too helplessly. How did she manage to affect him like this? He’d never fallen so head over heels so quickly. And she seemed completely oblivious to how gone he was for her – in the most innocent of ways.

They walked slowly, leaning on each perhaps a little more than they would without the wine, but it just meant that they had more time for talking. Dougie was blissfully happy to let Ashley rant about the indignity of the black myth surrounding Eleanor of Aquitaine, taking in everything that she was trying to teach him. He loved how much she loved her medieval history, just like he loved his art. It was quirky and different and so unique to her. And honestly, he could picture them doing this together for years, discussing their passions and their love for their careers and…

“Okay this is me,” Ashley announced, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Dougie looked up at the old two-storey home with a smile. So this was her home. Pretty.

“That wasn’t so bad a walk,” Dougie grinned.

“I feel bad now though, making you get further away for your own journey,” Ashley frowned.

But Dougie shook his head. “It’s fine really. I’m sure there are plenty of ubers still running around here,”

“Well…”

Ashley trailed off, biting her lip, making Dougie smile. What was on her mind?

“You can stay, if you want?” Ashley said, a shy smile on her face.

Oh fuck. Stay? Ashley saw the shock on his face, before she blushed furiously, quickly shaking her head.

“I have a spare bedroom! I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Dougie couldn’t help but laugh, tugging her hands away gently. Not that he was opposed to…sharing a bed with her, but that wasn’t the vibe of tonight. Tonight was for building them up, getting them to a more comfortable level. And fuck did it feel good tonight.

Waking up to see her first thing in the morning would only be icing on the cake.

“I would love to stay, as long as you don’t mind,” he said softly, brushing his hand against hers.

Ashley inhaled sharply but nodded, wordlessly reaching in her handbag for her keys. They stayed silent as they walked into the house, Dougie barely moving a foot away from her as she showed him the kitchen, the bathroom and then the spare bedroom. He could do a proper tour in the morning, he knew that. He was just a little stunned that he was even still with her, to be honest.

“So here’s some basketball shorts that my cousin left last time he visited. I don’t have a shirt big enough for you though,” she apologised, handing him a soft bundle.

Dougie just shook his head, smiling. “This is more than enough. I usually sleep shirtless anyway,”

Ashley’s lips parted a little in surprise, her eyes glazing over slightly, making Dougie grin as she shook her head as if to clear it. Good to know he had that effect on her.

“There are spare toothbrushes under the sink from when I last when to the dentist’s office, so help yourself to whatever one?” she offered.

Dougie just nodded, squeezing her hand as he walked into the bathroom. He willed himself to retain at least a little bit of chill as he got changed, quickly washing his face and cleaning his teeth with one of the toothbrushes she’d offered. This was all still a little bit surreal, being honest. But he was going to seize this with both hands – this was a chance he was never going to get again if he fucked up.

Ashley couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him as they swapped places in the bathroom, and Dougie tried not to grin as he flexed his abs a little, making her blush. He could have a little fun, right? Especially since he knew the boundaries he needed to stay behind, he wasn’t dumb.

By the time he’d put his phone on charge and folded his clothes onto a chair for tomorrow, and then headed back out into the corridor, Ashley was back, dressed in a cute little pair of shorts and a giant t-shirt. Oh wow, he could definitely imagine her wearing his t-shirt to bed one day. No, not the time!

“Hey,”

Ashley’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but smile down at her.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“See you in the morning?” she said hopefully.

Like fuck he was going to leave. “Bright and early,” he nodded.

But when she didn’t go anywhere, her hand moving to rest on his bare arm, Dougie couldn’t stop himself from stepping towards her. Fuck. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t push him away, and that was all he needed.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked lowly.

Ashley’s lips parted in a soft gasp, but she nodded. “Yeah, please,”

Dougie raised a hand to cup her face, giving her one last out, but as she raised up on her tiptoes he didn’t hesitate any further. He leant his head down, and pressed his lips to hers softly, barely able to stop the moan that wanted to tear from his throat. Holy shit. Ashley clutched at his biceps, leaning up into the kiss even more, making Dougie’s head spin as he kissed her softly, slowly, over and over again. This was so not what he expected from tonight, or even hoped for, but fuck did it fill his body with butterflies. Holy shit, kissing her was everything. Eventually, he brushed his tongue against hers gently, before pulling away, knowing there was a stupid smile on his face.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Wow,” she nodded, laughing softly, “That’s one hell of a goodnight,”

Dougie laughed softly too, pecking her lips in a soft kiss one last time before stepping away. She leaned against the wall, looking a little stunned, making him grin as he walked into her spare bedroom. If he didn’t walk away, he knew he would do something stupid to break them out of this perfect little sweet bubble, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not tonight.

Tonight had been perfect. 

*

Ashley woke up slowly, a little groggy, feeling like she was forgetting something. Then she heard the bathroom door opening, and everything came flooding back to her. Dougie was here. He’d stayed over after their date last night. They’d kissed. Holy shit. Holy shit. She took a deep breath to calm herself, fingers rising to her lips without a second thought, and it was all she could do to smile.

Dougie had kissed her. And it was everything.

She squealed softly into her pillow, feeling stupidly giddy, before quickly picking out a cute jumper and her comfiest skinny jeans to wear. She could hear him moving in the spare bedroom, so she quickly darted into the bathroom, washing and then brushing her teeth, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face at the sight of the toothbrush that Dougie used resting in the holder. There was just something about it that felt right.

She took a deep breath, running her hands down her sweater to smooth it, before she headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for Dougie to join her, and he accepted the glass of juice that she passed him with a smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” she said softly back.

Dougie seemed to hesitate slightly, before his face became determined. She didn’t have time to ask him what was wrong before he leant down and pressed his lips to hers in a firm kiss. Ashley whimpered softly into his mouth, earning a soft noise back, and it was all she could do to clutch at his sweater. Holy shit. This was just as incredible and sweet as she remembered from last night. Wow. Dougie cupped her face with his free hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he slowed the kiss down to a few gentle pecks, before he pulled away with a smile. Ashley just smiled back up at him, a little overwhelmed in the best way. Wow.

“Coffee shop?” he said.

“Yeah, if that’s alright,” she nodded.

He understood her routines. And he didn’t care that she wanted to stick to them. How could she not appreciate that?

Dougie just nodded in response, smiling as he sat down at her kitchen table, taking a sip of the juice she’d given him. “I wouldn’t mind changing out of last night’s clothes though. Not really my vibe,” he teased.

Ashley giggled, understanding perfectly. It wasn’t her vibe either.

“I could drive you over to yours, to get a change of clothes, and then we could head to Storm Surge together?” she suggested.

“Yeah? You want to walk in together like that?” Dougie asked, a little hopeful.

Holy shit, that would be one hell of a declaration. But…

“Yeah, I want that,” she nodded.

The grin that spread across Dougie’s face made the butterflies in her stomach worth it.

“Let me just put on some mascara and lipstick, and we can go?”

“Sure, whatever you want,” Dougie smiled.

Now that was a dangerous thought.

All too soon, Ashley was parked down the street from the coffee shop. She took a deep breath, Dougie sending her an encouraging smile, before she steeled herself and got out of the car. This was nervewracking. Storm Surge was her home away from home, her safe space, her comfort, and now she was completely changing the status quo. But as Dougie walked to her side, smiling down at her with such hope in his eyes, she knew it was worth it. He was worth it.

“Ready?” Dougie asked, holding out his hand.

Holy shit. Bring it on.

Ashley smiled up at him, taking his hand in hers, embracing the butterflies that came with the warmth of his grasp. They walked to the coffee shop together, Dougie squeezing her hand gently as she opened the door and walked through.

“Ashley! And…Dougie?”

Andrei’s gasp made her blush, Dougie just laughing. Then Andrei’s face broke into a huge grin, and he spun around.

“Marty! It’s happened! It’s finally happened!” Andrei yelled into the back of the shop.

What the hell?

A door slammed open in the back, and then Marty came barrelling out. He took one look at them holding hands before punching his fist in the air.

“LET’S GOOOO!”

Ashley flinched at Marty’s loud voice, but couldn’t help but giggle when he bounded over to Andrei, swinging an arm over his shoulders.

“Finally! Do you know how long we’ve been rooting for you two?” Marty beamed.

Oh god. Ashley blushed furiously, as did Dougie, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Was I that obvious?” Ashley asked shyly.

“Both of you were. It was so frustrating but so sweet,” Marty shrugged, Andrei nodding enthusiastically in agreement. “We just hoped you guys would take a chance,”

Take a chance. Hah. That’s definitely a good way to describe it. And he was so worth taking a chance on. Dougie smiled fondly down at her, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Well I’d say our second date went pretty well,” Dougie said softly, squeezing her hand.

Ashley smiled back, nudging him with her shoulder, earning coos from Marty and Andrei.

“Okay, you two are giving me cavities,” Marty said cheerfully, not even slightly annoyed, “Coffee and anything you want to eat, on the house. I need to tell Slavs – he’s going to be thrilled!”

Ashley just giggled, leaning into Dougie’s body as she looked over the cakes and pastries on display. Being with Dougie, this fledgling relationship, was scary – but it was also so exciting. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next. This was the start of something amazing, she just knew it.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 9: The Hands that Guide Me

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 3823

Warnings: None

A/N: Comments and feedback are appreciated! This fic has been a little harder for me to write, not gonna lie, so I hope you guys are still enjoying it!

Prev

Next

“What?”

Asmo’s voice came out as a shriek. It hurt Solomon’s ears a bit if he was being honest.

The two of them stood before Lucifer, Diavolo, and Azazel. It had been easy to push the idea of assassination attempt to the side until this point, but after an arrow had been shot in their direction��� well… He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Of course the crowds had gone scattering and word quickly got back to the main palace. This is when he also learned that the princes weren’t supposed to leave the palace.

Lucifer shook his head, “You heard me Asmodeus. I shouldn’t have allowed you to go out to the sector. I thought it might be safe for you during the day, but I was wrong. So no more. You must stay here.”

“But it’s my sector,” Asmo continued. Even if Solomon wasn’t looking at him, it was easy to tell he was upset. His voice was strained and cracked. He was on the edge of begging and pleading with his eldest brother. Solomon wanted to tell him to stop, but as soon as he went to touch him, he was shrugged off. “I should be allowed to visit it whenever I see fit!”

"That was before an arrow almost took your head off," Azazel chimed in, shaking his head, "Not to mention, you put civilians at risk with your presence."

The way Asmo flinched at those words… He didn’t seem to care about himself in that moment, and Solomon couldn’t help but think back to the small children flocking around his legs and how Asmo genuinely seemed to adore every one of the individuals in his sector. Yes he seemed a little thoughtless, but his intentions were innocent.

“Not to mention, you put a king in danger,” Azazel continued, gesturing to Solomon himself, “Could you imagine the commotion you would have caused if your fiance, royalty from another kingdom, had been struck? He’s an only child, their only heir, and you almost cost them that. His death would have been on your hands.”

That was hardly fair, Solomon had gone there on his own free will. Asmo had asked him, yes, but Solomon hadn’t felt forced. Yet, Azazel’s words had him questioning himself. The entire situation was extremely uncomfortable.

“Azazel, don’t you think-”

The glare Azazel shot Diavolo as his neck snapped towards him was dangerous, “Don’t coddle him. He should have known better.”

“Uncle,” Lucifer’s voice was steady, drawing Azazel’s attention back to him, “I am more than capable of handling my brothers. Please refrain from making any more unnecessary comments.”

The two men stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity before Azazel reluctantly backed down. That was when Lucifer turned his attention back towards the fifth prince. “Asmodeus,” Asmo didn’t look up towards his brother, but Solomon swore he saw him twitch, “No more outings. None. Am I understood?”

Asmo nodded curtly and then that was that. They were dismissed.

The silence was uncomfortable, even for Solomon. Yes he had complained about Asmo being high energy, but now that it was gone… It was unnerving. Solomon had had his guard so high around his fiance, and for what?

“You’re quiet,” he said. An inch stood between them. They hadn’t really walked together like this in the halls before.

Solomon was also a bit disturbed. From what he knew of Asmodeus, he knew that he didn’t give up on what he wanted to easily. But the moment Azazel started speaking, it seemed that all of the fight had left him.

You have a role to fill Lilith.

What exactly had been going on in Arcadia prior to them approaching him?

What exactly had becoming Lilith entailed for Asmodeus?

“I was under the impression you didn’t like me talking.”

Solomon couldn’t blame him for being snippy. He just got chewed out by his older brother and his uncle for something that Solomon didn’t really blame him for. Asmo was agitated, a free spirit locked away in a cage.

"Well, I don't like being distracted by anyone when I'm doing research, and you're a rather distracting presence," he tried to joke, but Asmo didn't seem too amused, "But I don't have my nose in a book right now."

"You will soon."

Just when he was trying to make an effort, Asmo didn't seem to want anything to do with him. At least not right now he didn't, but he could fix that. "I've heard you've gotten into a bit of reading yourself."

"I guess."

"Perhaps we could have a little library date sometime."

He was almost surprised about the smile that crossed his own face when he saw Asmo's ears twitch at the mention of a date. That's what he wanted. He wondered if Asmo didn’t quite believe what he had heard. After all, Solomon knew he’d been a little aloof. A library date was also a little more up his alley. He allowed himself to move ever so slightly closer. "Would you like that Asmodeus?" he asked softly.

"It's not going out-"

"But it's still a date."

He was going to do better.

He was going to start putting a little more effort into Asmodeus.

That also meant that he was resisting the urge to grab at his pendant. He had to open himself up to talk to Asmo more, and that meant also forming a more organic way to figure out how he was feeling. He needed to ask him questions, he needed to know a little more about him.

"You would like a date? Wouldn't you Asmodeus?"

Slowly, Asmo nodded and then his motions became more rapid, "Oh! Oh yes! Yes I would like that!" He caught Solomon in a tight grip and held him close. Solomon felt himself go stiff and was unsure what to do with his hands. Although, it was nice to see Asmo smiling. Eventually he settled on patting the prince's back. Asmodeus looked up at him, eyes sparkling, "Oh you'll be the luckiest man in any kingdom! Well, maybe next to me of course. But you'll love being with me! We can talk about it more if you'd like to walk me back to my room?"

"Well, you see, I would, but someone still has to teach me how to navigate the caverns."

It was a little embarrassing. He'd been living here for a while now and still had little to no idea as of how he was supposed to get around. It was especially inconvenient when he was hungry or wanted to visit the library. Asmo tilted his head and backed up, taking Solomon's hand in his own and squeezed. His hands were a bit bigger than Asmo's, but he also couldn't help but notice how warm and soft they were. They reminded him of soft silk. His nails were also well cared for especially compared to his own which were bitten. Had anyone ever held his hands like this before? It was such a small thing to think about, something that didn't matter in the long run, but he thought about it nonetheless.

Asmo's skin felt nice against his own.

Asmo's hands felt nice against his own.

"Well, I guess that gives me an excuse to spend more time with my husband!"

"Fiance."

"Same thing," Asmo let go of his hands and waved him off, "The point is I can get some time with you all to myself."

The very idea of spending time with him seemed to have Asmo excited, a little life was coming back into his eyes.

He was cute, and Solomon could feel an appreciation for his spark start to creep over him.

"In any case, I think walking back to my room would be a fantastic first lesson."

***

It was easy to forget how dizzying the tunnels were. Was the Heart always this aggressive or did it just have a special spot for him in it's cold unfeeling grasp?

"You think too much," Asmo's voice cut through the disorienting feeling. He was leaning against one of the walls, completely unbothered by the magic surrounding them. Pushing off the wall, Asmo walked closer to him and put his hands on either side of his face. "Let yourself relax."

Funny. He thought he was relaxed. There was nothing for him to be stressed about, he was as calm and collected as he could be.

Asmo pressed into his face and frowned, "You're so incredibly tense. I told you to relax." Pretty fingers pressed into his jaw and trailed their way down, "Unclench. Stress causes wrinkles you know."

"I am relaxed," he said as Asmo squished his cheeks. Yet, he felt his jaw relax.

"Clearly you're not. I've seen how you sit, slouching over those books of yours is terrible for your posture. When's the last time you've just cleared your mind and relaxed?"

Solomon scoffed, "Never, clearing the mind isn't really something a king can do." Not if he wanted to be a good ruler he couldn't. He needed to be on his toes, to strategize, to think. Not to mention, he was also a scholar.

"Ugh," Asmo rolled his eyes, "You sound just like Lucifer. Stubborn." His fingers ran down his face, neck, and to his shoulders. His touch was nice, gentle and a little curious, "If you think too much down here it's going to be harder to navigate. Pick one thing to think about if you have to. Something that won't lead you to thinking too much."

That seemed like a bit of an impossible task. What thought could possibly keep him from slipping down a rabbit hole?

The glint from the scorpion on Asmo's chest caught his eye. Then his thoughts drifted back to the hands on his person. There were only so many thoughts a single person could spark. Just like that a little bit of the haze cleared. He took each of the hands from his shoulders and held them in his own. Subconsciously, his thumbs ran over the soft moisturized skin. He couldn’t help but think once more about how warm he was. His body was very much a contrast to his own.

Asmo shuddered but didn’t bother to move. “Got something?” he asked, a hopeful edge lining his voice. His weight shifted towards the balls of his feet as he leaned closer to Solomon.

Solomon looked into his eyes. They were just as hopeful as his voice and they seemed to hold every star usually confined in the night sky. “Perhaps, but that’s for me to know,” he smirked, letting go of his hands to touch his nose.

His smile quickly turned into a pout and he placed his hands on his hips, “Boo. Really? You won’t tell me?”

“I don’t think I will, not yet anyways.”

“You stubborn man! I should just leave you down here.”

“Not if you’d like me to walk you to your room you won’t.”

Asmodeus pulled away from him and Solomon followed, walking a little closer behind him to the point where they were almost touching. He still smelled like the flowers of his sector. Solomon was still lucky to be here. Lucky to be paired with an attractive partner. Lucky that he was finally making progress.

“Anything else I should know? I doubt Diavolo just automatically knew where to go,” he leaned over Asmo’s shoulder.

Those soft slender hands reached out to run against the wall, “There are marks in the brick work. Some of them have the Mark of the Heart. You can feel them in the brickwork if you know what you’re looking for.”

Solomon placed his hand over Asmo's, stopping him in his tracks, “Show me.”

He swore he could hear Asmo swallow as he guided his hands along the subtle etchings in the brick work. They went slow along the clean cut lines, and the more Solomon moved over them the more familiar they became. They became etched in his memory as their hands cast shadows in the soft light from the torches. They stayed there in silence continuing their pattern until Solomon glanced towards him.

“You blush quite a bit,” he was so easy to read, “What is the cause this time?”

“The flames cast a wonderful shadow against your jaw line,” his voice was was soft, for once Solomon had to strain to look at him, “You’re a very handsome man, and I like touching your hands.”

Was he a mind reader? Voicing his own thoughts in such a way, Solomon swore he must know exactly what he was thinking in the moment. He didn’t look up at Solomon, but remained focused on guiding his hands along the wall.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Well yes, I can see.”

Solomon stopped tracing his hand against the wall and pulled back only to close in to his fiance, “Then don’t avoid looking at me.”

Asmo’s breath hitched as they came closer together. Solomon threaded their hands together and squeezed. “I realize I haven’t been the kindest to you, and I apologize. I’d like to fix that if you’d allow me,” he allowed his voice to drop. His eyes swept over Asmo’s face, he was incredibly attractive and his features only enhanced his beauty. Long lashes, full lips, bright eyes. He was gorgeous.

“You’re very pretty Asmodeus.”

“Thank you.” Both of their voices were soft, despite being alone in the tunnels. Asmodeus continued, bringing his free hand back up to his face as a spark of hope returned to his eyes, “I want you, I do. I’m happy to hear that you… you want…”

He was quiet, but Solomon found it hard to pull away. There was something inside of him that felt… conflicted. It was a new feeling, one that was set into motion since he went to Asmo’s sector. He wasn’t sure what to make of the feeling yet. All he knew was that he could have stayed down here with him for hours, just like this, with their fingers intertwined together. Solomon’s other hand went to his hip and followed along the curve.

Beautiful.

“Oh! It’s wonderful to see you two spending time and getting closer together,” the booming voice made Solomon jump and move away from Asmodeus. Now it was his turn to become red. Diavolo stood not too far away from them, his butler not too far behind. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything if I did.”

Solomon coughed as Asmo moved away from the wall and huffed, “You kind of did. What are you doing down here?”

“I wanted to check on you! I know you loved travelling to your sector and that someone telling you you could no longer go was upsetting. But I see that Solomon had you in mind! Doesn’t he Barbatos?”

“That he does young lord.”

Solomon couldn’t bring himself to look the butler in the eye. It felt like Barbatos was bearing into his soul, that he knew what he was going to do before Solomon even knew himself. What he did see of the butler was all knowing eyes and an incredibly sly smile. Suddenly he became all too aware of himself. Hopefully the light was dim enough that his features were obscured.

“We could have gotten closer if we weren’t interrupted,” Asmo growled under his breath. It almost made Solomon sputter. Getting closer? Down here? Solomon wasn’t about to go a lot further than what he did. Well maybe he would have, he wasn’t too sure what was going on inside of his mind at the moment.

“Why don’t we walk with you the rest of the way?” Diavolo asked, “It could be nice for all of us to get a little closer together.”

Asmo held up his hands, “Diavolo, normally I would love to but-”

“It’ll be fun for us!”

And that was how the four of them walked back to Asmo’s room together. Diavolo spent a lot of time chatting with the fifth prince as Solomon walked stiffly next to Barbatos. He was a private man, he preferred things to stay that way.

“Getting used to being here your majesty?” Barbatos hummed, glancing towards him, “I know the young prince has been eager for you to be here with him, even if he was nervous about seeing you here.” The two of them started to lag behind Diavolo and Asmodeus.

“Keep an eye on him, he’s not always transparent, none of them are.”

Solomon furrowed his brow, "That's a bit ominous don't you think?

"Ominous pr a gentle hint towards well intent? I'll leave that for you to decide," Barbatos then continued onward and placed a hand on Diavolo’s shoulder, “Perhaps we should head back. I can make tea for you and Lucifer.”

“But Barbatos!”

“We should leave them be,you can talk to them later, but for now we’ll leave them be,” Barbatos turned to face them again, “I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ll be able to see you again soon.”

“Alright! Buh bye! We’ll see you later then!” Asmo chirped, grabbing Solomon’s arm and continuing on down the hall. It was a bit faster than Solomon was expecting, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Asmo wanted to spend time with him.

“Come in with me?” he asked, trying to tug Solomon into his room.

“Not tonight, but we’ll meet in the library to spend some time together. I promise.”

Solomon watched him before squeezing his hands one more time before backing away, “I’ll stop by in the morning, we can eat together, just the two of us, and then we’ll read together.”

“And you promise?” Asmo asked once more.

He's not always transparent.

“I do.”

It took him a while to return to his room. He wanted to make sure he was taking the right path back. But the longer it went on, the more confident he became. Thoughts of soft skin and golden scorpions inhabited his mind, keeping his path straight and narrow.

***

A few non royal magic users live within the fifth district. It leads me to genuinely believe that magic truly does run through the land. They aren’t strong users, but they can use a bit. The flora and fauna in Arcadia also don’t cease to amaze me. There’s a change in variety from the entrance to the fifth district, it’s very easy to forget how large the empire is when staying in the center. People also seem rather attached to their individual leaders, so maintaining good relationships with them will be incredibly important. I have to wonder if magic users outside the royal line have always been here or if they slowly integrated into the city. I also have to wonder if they have access to the Heart.

The underground caverns simultaneously require focus and no thought at all. Thinking too much causes what is akin to interference and it is easy to become disoriented. There are also small markings along the walls that are easier to find once you have your bearings. They lead along correct paths in each of the corridors. I can only assume the path to the Heart would also be the same, only more hidden.

Asmodeus is beloved by the people in his sector. He also seems to have a natural talent with young children. They adore him and he cares for them deeply. He seems to care for every person in his sector. He’s very warm, and it’s clear that he uses products from his sector daily. His hands are soft and his nails are well cared for. There may be a little more to him than I initially thought.

***

Asmodeus was more focused on Solomon than on the book in his hands. He sat close to him on the couch, eyes fixed and shoulders touching. It was a little hard to focus on the words in front of him the longer he stared, and yet it was also a little nice.

“Asmodeus, nothing unsavory in my library please, and try not to drool on my books,” Satan glided behind the couch only to disappear behind one of the many bookshelves. Solomon could only dream about reading half as fast as he did, it was a mystery.

“I’m not! Hush up and let me enjoy my date!”

“Quiet, it’s a library,” Satan’s voice echoed through the room. Solomon could picture the smile on his face as he spoke. He could only imagine what Asmo had confided with him in private.

Asmodeus rolled his eyes and resumed his work.

“You haven’t made a dent in your book,” Solomon said, closing his own and picking another up from the pile, “Does it not interest you?”

Asmo looked panicked before holding the book closer up to his face, “No! It’s incredibly interesting! I just like to take my time when I’m reading about advanced stuff. But I’m sure you completely understand! After all, you read scholarly stuff like this all the time.”

Hooking his finger over the spine, Solomon slowly brought the book down so he could see the page. He wasn’t really met with any resistance. “Oh yes, I do enjoy taking my time on the table of contents,” he smiled, “Asmo, it’s okay if this isn’t really your thing.”

“No I-”

“It’s okay. It is. You don’t have to read every single book you think I’d might pick up,” he gently took the book from Asmo’s hand and placed it at his side, “We can still spend time together if you’d like, just like this.”

He could see the hesitance in Asmo’s eyes. What had him so worried? Solomon certainly wasn’t angry that they didn’t enjoy the same literature. He wanted to know him better. If Asmo didn’t find what he researched fascinating like he did, that was alright. There was still so much about his fiance that he didn’t know and so much he wanted to learn. Maybe one day he’d understand him. Just maybe.

What he did know is that physical affection seemed important. So he slung one arm around the back of the couch and motioned for him to come closer, “You can lay your head on me if you’d like.”

Asmodeus didn’t say a word, instead he jumped at the opportunity to snuggle closer to Solomon, placing his head on his chest and letting out a content little sigh once he was comfortable. He was warm. So very warm.

"Let me know if you'd like me to start reading out loud."

Asmo nodded against his chest.

His weight was somewhat calming, and he found that he didn't mind spending his reading like this. This was what made Asmodeus happy. It was so simple, Solomon felt like a fool for depriving him. He’d become paranoid due to ambition. As he read, the fingers on his other hand gently started rolling over his fiance in one fluid motion.

He was going to be better for Asmodeus, for his happiness.

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Oh my gosh i am so so so so happy that youre finally writing for the Batfam!!!! Ive been following you for awhile now and I'm glad that youve fell into the rabbit hole that is thos crazy family😂 For a prompt, how about Jason and Dick taking care of each other at home when theyre both in varying degrees of sick? Your last fic was amazing and I love your group writing. Have a great day

I’m glad you like my group writing because I STRUGGLE to write more than one person honestly, lol

Jason’s dragging his feet around the small convenience store, too tired to move, his muscles melting to hot, thick goo. He’s been fighting a cold for the better half of two days now, having picked one up from a sick kid taking residence in one of his shelters, and normally, he’d isolate himself in one of his safe houses for a few days to sleep off the cold, but with his shelters expanding outside of Gotham to Bludhaven, he’s too busy interviewing for team leaders and security to temporarily remove himself from the world.

Instead, he’s reduced to a sniffling, shivery mess of a man who’s wandering a convenience store in Bludhaven at 1 AM. His head is hot and feeling like it’s stuffed to the brim with cotton. His concentration is waning under the thick, pounding pressure in his head, slowing his thoughts down to basic, one-word sentences as he scans the shelf for medicine, hoping for a concoction that will kick this cold square in the ass.

“Jason?”

Jason was willingly taking his time, prolonging the inevitable bike ride back to Gotham; however, the sudden, incredibly unwanted, presence of one pesky bird tightens his muscles and clears his head enough to move faster.

“Dick,” Jason says, keeping his eyes glued to the shelf. “What a pleasant surprise,” he adds flatly, groaning when he spots Dick, with his badge on full display, walking toward him through his peripherals.

“What are you doing in Bludhaven?”

Jason sighs deep in his throat, the breathing coming off as a muted growl. He grabs a bottle of fever reducers and snags a few other bottles of varying medicines before he turns toward Dick. “Business.”

Dick cocks his head to the side, a small frown playing at his lips. “What business?”

“I’m sorry,” Jason bites out, “is this an interrogation, Officer Grayson?” His eyes find Dick’s badge, sharp, narrow, and incredibly annoyed.

Dick deflates before him, pocketing his badge with a few coughs. “No, sorry. Habit. Will you be here long?”

“I was just leaving,” Jason grumbles, though the second he turns on his heel, his body decides to remind him of the fucking fever he’s been running, and he stumbles, vision tunneling for a breath of a moment but just enough to have Dick wrapping quick hands around his arms to steady him.

“Woah, Jay, you okay?” Dick’s pulling Jason back to him, guiding him around until they are facing, and Jason can’t fight off the annoyingly strong grip, his body too weak under the weight of this persistent cold.

“Peachy,” he gripes out, jaw clenched tightly, and he holds Dick’s narrow, worried gaze with his own tight one, only moving to slap Dick’s hand away before Dick can press a palm to his forehead.

“Jason.”

“Dick Brain,” Jason sighs, shoulders slumping. “You can save the puppy dog look for one of the other bats. I’m fine.”

“You’re sick,” Dick presses, following Jason to the cash register.

“Yep,” Jason mutters, dropping the medicine bottles onto the counter. “It happens.” Dick muffles a few coughs behind him, and he peers over his shoulder, arching one brow.

“Bug going around the office,” Dick explains, clearing his throat. “Are you driving back to Gotham?” He follows Jason out of the store, and Jason sighs long and loud, free hand dropping to his bike seat.

“That’s the plan.”

“Why don’t you come back to mine? Just for the night. You look terrible.” Dick means every word, the instinctive pull of older brother is bleeding into his voice. Jason’s pale before him, but even with the dull, flickering street light serving as the only source of light before them, he can still see two splashes or unnatural red coloring Jason’s cheeks.

“And watch you stumble around trying to play nursemaid? Not exactly on my list of things to do.” Jason thumbs at his bike helmet, wishing he could will this conversation to end faster.

“Jay, I don’t think riding back to Gotham in your condition is a good idea.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason slips his helmet over his head and swings his leg over his bike, tucking the pill bottles into his jacket pockets. “Good thing bad ideas are kinda my forte.” He twists his key into the ignition, revving his bike loudly. “Later Golden Boy. Go get some rest. The sickly pale look doesn’t suit you.” He shoots forward, probably a little too fast, but the quicker he can forget about this small encounter, the better.

***

Jason makes it ten minutes outside of Bludhaven before he turns around, underestimating the ill affects his fever has on his vision. After almost flipping into a ditch three separate times when his vision frayed gray, he slows his bike into a U-Turn and starts toward the damn address etched in his brain, something he’s tried to forget but actively cannot.

It takes another fifteen minutes until he’s pulling up to Dick’s apartment and another ten to climb on jello legs up the two flights of stairs to Dick’s door. Forgetting it’s nearing 2 AM, he curls his hand into a fist and bangs against the door.

He hears coughing on the other end, growing louder, and then the door’s pulled open, and a gun’s pointed at his face.

Dick blinks slowly, eyes still riddled with sleep but hand frighteningly steady around the gun.

“Jason?”

“How come when I even look at a gun, I get lectured, but you have a guest stare down a barrel?”

Dick’s hand falls, clicking the safety of the gun on its way down. “Shit, sorry.” Frowning, he drags his gaze across Jason’s face. “You must really feel like crap if you’re actually taking my offer.”

Jason groans and shoves past Dick, legs wobbly but determined to get to the couch before he crumbles to the floor. “I figured your couch would be just a little better than a fucking ditch.” He sags against the couch, head rolling back and eyes fluttering closed, only opening when a palm brushes across his forehead.

“Shit, Jay, you’re really burning up.”

Jason feels the couch dip beside him, and he groans low in his throat, coughing weakly. “Just a cold.”

“You really believe that?” Dick sighs, nudging Jason with his elbow until Jason’s curling onto his side, fully reclined on the couch. He reaches for a blanket draped across the back of the couch and tucks it around Jason, worry spiking when Jason doesn’t try and stop him.

“No,” Jason says flatly, “but I do believe that you should shut the fuck up.”

“Well you’re still an ass, so I guess that means you aren’t dying.”

“Again,” Jason grumbles, succumbing, already, to the thick layer of fatigue coating him.

Wincing, Dick slips to his feet, arms wrapping around himself. “Sorry, I...”

“‘S fine,” Jason slurs, one eye slitting open. “Go sleep or some shit. You look like hell.” He nods off, face relaxing, and Dick lingers for a long minute, just watching, an older brother thing, he guesses. 

He only breaks his gaze when a dull cramp twists in his stomach, and he shuffles to his room, closing his door and flopping onto his bed.

***

Jason’s dreams are fitful, filled with hot, suffocating memories of the Joker, the Lazarus Pit, green hair turning toward green sparks of rage that dwell within him. He’s not sure what wakes him, but he’s thankful for it, his heart rapid fire in his chest, his clothes sticky and damp with sweat. He finds a now warm cloth on his forehead, and he pulls it off, frowning, mind thick and hazy.

He hears a loud gag and winces, pulling a slow gaze to the hallway and spotting the bathroom door closed. He’s even slower to his feet, his head feeling simultaneously too heavy and too light as he stumbles across the room and to the hall, stopping at the bathroom door. It’s gone quiet on the other side, too quiet. He knocks, swallowing back a spike of tension.

“Yo, Golden Boy. You still alive?”

He can hear ragged breathing, but then he hears a thump, and his heart threatens to climb up his throat. “Dick?” he tries, knocking again. Every inch of him feels wrong when he still doesn’t get an answer, and he takes a few steps back and slams his foot high into the door, wood cracking under the force as the door flies open.

Dick’s pulling himself up to his feet, bracing himself against the edge of the sink. He pulls a too pale face over his shoulder, frowning. “The door was unlocked.”

“You didn’t answer,” Jason growls, stepping into the room, grimacing at the toilet.

“Do you normally not try doorknobs first?”

“What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t dramatically bust in to save you?”

Dick’s face falls to pure, vulnerable surprise, and Jason groans, rubbing at his temples as he shoves Dick to the edge of the tub to fill a glass of water for him.

“Fuck, I said the sacred word, and now you’re short circuiting.” His tone is flat as he offers the glass of water to Dick, who absently takes it, still slack jaw and wide eyed.

“You never say brother.”

“Easy slip up. Just means I’ve been hanging around you too long already.” He kicks Dick’s foot lightly. “Drink.”

Dick sips the water, the adrenaline subsiding until he’s only shivering slightly.

“Have you been throwing up? Before this?”

Dick shakes his head. “New development.” He eyes Jason’s damp face, cheeks still too red for his liking. “How’s the fever? I thought I was going to have to drag you to the hospital a couple of hours ago.”

Jason can still feel heat under his finger tips. He’s still exhausted, but his mind is a fraction clearer, so he takes that as a good sign he’s on the mend, if only slightly. “Still pretty high, but it’s going down.” 

“Good,” Dick breathes, relief smoothing across his worn features. “I was worried.”

“Ugh, stop before I throw up next.” Jason drags out each word, hunching over to smooth a palm across Dick’s forehead, finding it warm to the touch but not alarmingly so. “Finish the water then go back to bed.” He turns to leave, wincing at the damaged door.

“I’ll fix this,” he mutters, and Dick laughs lightly, falling into a few coughs.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[fighterkimburgess]

g, k, r, & u <3

Find the questions here

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

It honestly depends! Normally I'm start to finish the whole way, but when writing Unintentional I've been picking at different parts depending on my mood. I do prefer doing start to finish, I can really tell what's going on with the fic more.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Probably the Sour fic I was going to write. A fic about Adam Ruzek's emotions following Kim leaving him in 3x12, following Sour by Olivia Rodrigo. I wrote Brutal, which would have been the first chapter, but honestly after I wrote it I was in bits so I couldn't do any more of it. It just was so unhappy.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

I don't really have an influence? I think? Like I love how Sarah Rees Brennan writes such well rounded characters, and I like Rachel Caine's worldbuilding, but I don't have a specific influence. I think.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

This...is incredibly hard. Like, actually the hardest thing to narrow down. I'm sticking with people who write character x character, because if I include character x reader/OC writers I will be here till next year deciding. Ye are too talented!

First is @kim-ruzek, aka the other half of my brain. Ree's ability to know EXACTLY HOW A CHARACTER WILL REACT TO SOMETHING is amazing. She has this skill that no matter what situation she puts them into, they never act OOC. Ree is such a phenomenal writer, and folks if you haven't read her fics you're sleeping on some of the best burzek writing around. I will always rec Contentedness as my favourite fluffy burzek fic of all time. I go back to it an embarrassing amount.

Picking @gilbxrt-blythe for the next person. Abby's drabbles are so perfect and make so much sense, and her multi chapter fics are so good. Ye've all seen my ramblings about Spinning Out, which is just so beautiful and heartbreaking and gorgeous, filled with hope and healing and this core of pure love between the two of them. Her latest fic, Confessions of a Victim, is phenomenal and I'm so, so excited to see where it's going to go. Any fic with the tag "Matt Casey and Adam Ruzek sepremacy" is going to be a fic I will enjoy.

And my final writer isn't actually on Tumblr! It's CoincidenceConnection on AO3, who has written some of my favourite rarepairs and I will quite literally bounce in my seat at the thought of an update. Partners made me think "oooh burgstead could have been such a good thing", and the cliffhanger resolution from the last chapter made me squeal. Literally, the next day I was walking around going "OHMYGOD SPOILER THING HAPPENED". It was very fun. And, of course, Matters of the Heart was my first Rheese fic, and we've seen what rabbit hole THAT sent me down.

Send me a letter and I'll answer that fanfic question

[thevioletcaptain]

BELATED WRITER ASK. 9, 18, 23. ❤️

BELATED WRITER ANSWER! ❤️

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration

To blatantly steal the first part of your answer,  I talk to my awesome friends about Supernatural (or insert fandom here). I read poetry and novels and fics and the news. I read interesting studies that catch my attention online, and look up old news articles from small-town local papers. I hit the “random article” button on Wikipedia and let myself go down a research rabbit hole. I watch TV and movies and take note of what works and what doesn’t. I listen to music and curate playlists that Feel Right. I collect visuals I want to emulate. In a non-pandemic year, I people watch in public, and when I have the ability to drive myself there, I spend time alone in nature or near a body of water—water really does the trick for me. Daydreams, nightdreams, nightmares, shower thoughts. I meditate and do the five-senses mindfulness exercise.

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Not consciously, but I think it’s impossible to read good writing and not have it influence you in some way. There’s a post that goes around from time to time where the writer talks about how they are a patchwork of all the people they’ve loved—they make ramen the way their friend showed them when they were a kid, and they love certain movies because people they care about loved them first, and so on. I think writing is kind of the same.

Every story that affects me in some way, however small, becomes a part of the way I write. So I guess my answer is just… all of them. Eek.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing? So, this is probably going to make me sound like a real weirdo and/or enormous wanker, but I think that ship already sailed a while a go. So here goes: for a while in my early twenties, I wrote anonymous letters and left them for people to find on the train.

Sometimes it was poetry or a story, sometimes just a one-sided conversation or a series of observations about the other people on the train, or a long list of questions for the person who found it to answer. Sometimes it was written in code, with the key to the cipher on the inside of the envelope.

I’d write “a letter for you” on the outside, slip it into the gap beside the seat, and leave it behind. 

I had an email address that I included in every letter for people to respond to—a hotmail address I can’t remember, long-since lost to the ravages of time—and sometimes people would write back. I left substantially more letters than I received responses to, but there were still enough replies that I kept doing it for a long time.

When people responded to the long lists of questions (which ranged from what’s the best movie you’ve seen this year? to describe what love feels like to you? to have you ever seen a ghost? to write me a haiku about pickles) it was like having a secret window into another person’s head.

The anonymity meant that most people responded with a level of honesty that is generally uncommon for anyone but close friends. A lot of them almost seemed to treat it like therapy, venting to a faceless stranger. It taught me a lot about the different ways that people think, and particularly people who I otherwise wouldn’t have an opportunity to get to know that well.

I also always included some version of this question: what compelled you to open this letter, and what were you expecting to find?

The range of responses was wide and fascinating, and I don’t think that anything else has ever helped me to write characters more. Because I think about it pretty much anytime I’m writing. If this character saw an envelope in a public place, would they pick it up? Would they leave it there? Would they open it immediately, or take it home and avoid it for a week like that one man who emailed and confessed that he’d worried that it was somehow crime related? If they found one of the coded letters, would they be excited about it? Freaked out? Would they pass it around the office like that woman who said she worked for the bank and needed something to make the day less dull? What would they do, and how would they answer the question, and what would that tell me about them?

So I often think about the answers people wrote, the poems they sent, the few emails that just contained photos of random landmarks. Incredibly, I never received a dick pic. It’s only just occurring to me now how surprising that is. There was a person who responded with a code of their own, though I’ve forgotten what it translated to. Actually I think there may have been a couple who did this. It was a long time ago.

There was another one who found a particularly depressed letter that I’d left, and emailed back a series of ISBNs. When I looked them up, the book titles put together spelled out a sentence, though I only remember two of them: [It’s A Lovely Day Tomorrow] [Dogs Everywhere]

There was a man who had been a doctor somewhere in South East Asia, then immigrated to Australia to be near his kids, and found himself unable to get anything but minimum wage work. There was a woman who had been so personally offended that I’d criticised The Da Vinci Code in the letter she’d found that she didn’t bother responding to anything else I’d written. There was someone who emailed to say “this is psycho” and nothing else. Oh well.

So. Yeah.

That’s probably the most obscure thing I can think of that has affected me as a writer. It just opened my brain up, I guess. Helped me to understand a bit more about how different people approach things, how they react to things. I try to hold onto that when I’m writing to make my characters feel more real. More flesh-and-bone than a collection of tropes and personality traits, so that they react to things, hate things, love things. Make choices that surprise me, and push against the story when it doesn't go their way.

[the get to know your writer ask meme]

[prince-liest]

fic writer interview!

How many works do you have on AO3?

37, though another one is going up tomorrow because haunted AO3 hours started and I don't want to post it in the middle of the night on a Monday. Also like 4 or 5 more in reserve from zines/bangs. I'm kinda impressed with myself, but also, side-eyeing y'all with fic counts in the 100s. Phenomenal. Effervescent.

What's your total AO3 word count?

257,246

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In chronological order of first fic on AO3: Percy Jackson, Soul Eater, Steven Universe, My Hero Academia, Dragalia Lost, Avater: the Last Airbender, the Witcher, and Genshin Impact! That's 7 fandoms and I'm not counting Homestuck (I only wrote OC stuff) or D&D (same thing).

I also have works from Axis Powers: Hetalia and Katekyo Hitman Reborn! on Fanfiction dot hell that none of you will ever see. I definitely posted and deleted a Twilight OC fic once.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Dish Duty | ATLA

The Sword of Damocles is Swinging | MHA

The Ancient Art of Jerkbending | ATLA

Dishabille | MHA

Summer Break | MHA

ATLA is a powerful fandom so I'm not surprised both my ATLA fics made top five. Dishabille's popularity continues to pleasantly surprise me. Damocles is only surprising because it isn't first. I am so proud of Summer Break and that entire Shinsou series, I'm glad it made top 5 and is gonna break 1k kudos soon. <3

(Now get Dog-Tired up there, I fucking love that story. q^q)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

To quote Mido: I do, but not consistently. Q^Q I read them all and I really want to reply to them all, but I very frequently simply to not have the energy. I have it posted on my AO3 profile, though, so hopefully it doesn't hurt anyone's feelings... I have recently been trying to at least answer all new incoming comments and not let the backlog increase! (That said, the backlog is over 100.)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't tend to do angsty endings (I am a hard lover of angst with a happy ending), but I've written some questionable and bittersweet ones. I think arguably the best contendor for angstiest ending is probably Kindred Spirit. I wrote it to low key revenge myself on @thegc4life for insisting that Shinsou gets a hug (he does! technically!) and it certainly ended ominously.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

As much as I love "Edward Elric gets transported into X universe and proceeds to kick everyone's ass" crossovers, I don't relaly write any. I do enjoy full transplant AUs, though, and the one I recently posted on AO3 is an MHA-at-Hogwards AU called the Birds and the Mares that I wrote for the HP/BNHA Zine!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Deeeeepends on what you mean by 'hate.' :X has gotten two comments (one much politer than the other, haha) complaining about my use of the r-slur in Shinsou's internal narrative in one of the chapters, but one person backpedaled and said they understood the purpose of it while the other (more vehement) one never replied to my explanation. That's all, though!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yeah. It's never going on my main AO3 (and the one time it did, I orphaned the fic). I have a side account I might post it on once I get over the fact that people who know me also know about the account. It's all 100% PWP of stuff I personally am into, and I have a very specific set of things I'm into, so... idk, feels a little personal! ^^"

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but I've had people adopt general concepts I used (fabulous!) and steal my RP OCs back in ye olde fantroll days (not at all fabulous! incredibly hurtful, actually). I am vehemently opposed to plagiarism, even of concepts. It feels so gross.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone in the comments mentioned that they are translating Bloodied Hound into Russian and I am SO EXCITED. I desperately want to read it. Of all the languages, it happened to be the only other one I'm decently literate in! I also want to show my grandparents. I really hope the person follows through. <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've roleplayed a lot, but I can't see myself ever co-writing a fic. I'm not even sure how it works, to be honest!

What’s your all time favourite ship?

Urgh. Pass. I can't pick one. Perils of a multishipper.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I was going to proudly say "I never post things I don't plan on finishing!" but in reality that is a lie, because Falling Down A Rabbit Hole exists from back in 2015 and is in fact the reason I made that rule for myself. ^^" Honestly, what's there still holds up, but the reality is that I didn't actually come up with a plot, so there's nowhere for it to go.

What are your writing strengths?

Interesting/relatable/funny dialogue, and also writing feelings in a 'show, don't tell!' kind of way that leaves strong impressions with people!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting out long stories with good pacing! People thought Damocles had a plot, apparently? Joke's on you, it was a series of "I wanna see this happen" scenarios that I made Hawks suffer through and subsequently strung together like a haphazard multicolor plastic bead necklace that I told everyone was actually pearls.

That's why all my stories after Damocles are either short or split into a series. Shinsou's Bad Days is my attempt at proper pacing, hence it being so episodic.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'll do it if I know the language well enough (so, Russian and ASL, I don't trust my casual Japanese), but I'm generally a stickler for making things come off naturally, so I otherwise will instead try to find the closest tonal equivalent in English (such as having Childe call Zhongli "professor" instead of "xiansheng"). Sometimes there just isn't one (like Kazuha calling Beidou 'big sis' but in a way that doesn't sound kiddish and overly casual for him), though, which sucks. :( Language is cool!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

T. Twilight. QUQ I wish that fic still existed, it was like a single chapter of two multicolored hair OCs befriending Alice Cullen and being cool. I deleted it but I SHOULDN'T HAVE. IT WAS HISTORY.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

This totally changes with each new slew of fics I post. I think currently it is Dog-Tired because despite being unsatisfied with the title, I think the story itself turned out amazing. I also am extremely happy with the entire Shinsou's Bad Days series (including upcoming installments).

Tagged by: @touchmycoat (THANK U LOVE <3)

Tagging: anyone who's read this far, LOL. seriously, though, I have a lot of writer moots and I don't have the time to tag them all but PLEASE do this and tag me so I can read it if you are so inclined! <3

[spnfanficpond]

June 2020 Angel Fish Awards

(New Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE JUNE’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nonimated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

I Thought You Were Going To Die (oneshot) by @fun-and-fandoms

My nominations for the month wouldn’t be complete without a little bit of angst. Though this one isn’t just that. If you’re easily triggered by mentions of depression and its symptoms, this one’s not for you. But it’s an important topic and I will always encourage any creator who uses their art to remind people it’s okay to talk about it. (Note from Kale, this was actually submitted in May but I missed it.) 

More to Me (oneshot) by @becs-bunker

No spoilers, but I’m so glad this ended the way it did. So sweet <3

Help  (oneshot) by @blushingjared

I came across this fic and was immediately intrigued. Then I started reading and I was captivated from the first sentence until the very last. The author did such a good job with setting the scene and painting the right picture.

Talking Bodies (oneshot) by @ne-gans

This AU-Sam is such a huge weakness of mine. That, in combination with this dangerously filthy masterpiece, is nothing short of perfection.

Nominated by @focusonspn

Into The Woods (series) by @amanda-teaches

So well written, interesting plot and great development. The chemistry between Y/N and Dean is also amazing, and I loved how this mini-series could be so easily part of the show. Totally worth reading.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeamindfield 

Stranger Than FanFiction (series) by @cherry3point14

The premise is similar to the film Stranger Than Fiction – a story about a story being written about you – and it’s just as hilarious. Also, Cherry Pie is still one of the funniest writers in this corner of SPN fandom.

“You’re not supposed to move your head if there’s someone trying to murder you, probably…”

No, I wouldn’t think so, but lollllll

“You’re being insane, out loud.”

Omgggg

“It tried, oh, how the door tried to divert her attention from the unknown men who could be terrible, rule-breaking influences on her. However the door was only wood and she was a stubborn woman made of free will and limbs—a woman who refused to be deceived.”

“Your hand is on the doorknob before the mention of your limbs has finished rattling around your head.  Realistically you don’t want to encourage the voice by doing what it says. After all, the voice’s ultimate goal seems to be killing you.”

BAHAHAHAH omfg you guys

I need to stop quoting from this bc I probably seem insane to those of you who haven’t read this, so stop being judgy buttheads and go read!

Nominated by @flamencodiva

The Choice (series) by @superfanficnatural

A couple of things. 1) this is an amazing fic that highlights Dean unwillingness to let himself go until it’s almost too late. and 2) the smut in this is hot hot hot hot! not for anyone under 18 years of age.

Mert has a way with words and can literally pluck you into one and make you see it as it comes to life in your head.

Mine (series) by @holylulusworld

Lulu has an abundance of different stories she tells and this one is my favorite of her ABO’s at the moment. (although I love all of them) I think this one deserved a mention. I am glad she joined to Pond so I could help nominate and spread her amazing work!

One Night at a Time (series) by @crashdevlin

Another great fic by Cassie! This one shot full of Angst, Smut, and if you squint just the right amount of Dean fluff. She has a way of capturing your attention and putting you in the world as you read.

What He Lost (oneshot) by @jensengirl83

This short story by Brandy is sure to rip your heart out. she leaves just a bit of hope where you think there is a chance only to crush it completely with the ending. This one is sure to bring you to tears if you are looking for the most delicious angsty story to read.

Nominated by @risingpheonix761

Down The Rabbit Hole (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

So, this was hysterical. XD I love crack fics, and bad smut in particular, and this one hits the spot. (I’ve also learned several new horrible euphemisms lol). The ending, though? Golden!

Nominated by @myinconnelly1

The Affair (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I love how well all the characters are portrayed I truly hate everyone except the reader! Well done!!  

Red Riding Hood - or how you ran into a wolf... (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I have nothing to say about this. I will simply allow the puddle I have become to speak for me. 

Last Omega On Earth (oneshot) by @holylulusworld 

This was a great entry in the ABO world. and we need more of this and more like !!!!! Great work!

My Beta (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I am a greedy little bitch with this fic.  I think I've read it 3-4 since i first read it this month!!!!!! READ THIS FIC!  

Third Period (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

Some truly inspiring smut.  Inspiring to change my panties. 

Gods of Twilight (series) by @thecleverdame​

I think i posted this fic in my rec before, but it is so amazing and intricate that i can't stop gushing about it.  Fucking awesome. 

Apple Pie (oneshot) by @bad268​ 

The amazingness of this is great, check this guppy out!

Deal (oneshot) by @bad268 

Comedy at some of its's finest!!! 

Confession (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid

THE FLUFFFFFFF!!!! I don't read straight fluff.  So get the tissues ready.

Fallen (series) by idreamofplaid

My therapist has told me i'm not longer allowed to talk about this fic during our sessions.  So instead i shall now talk about it here... *pulls out soapbox* ahem... *gets pulled away with hook*

Memory (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid

This fic is older, but i love it so much.  I recently went back and reread it, and the angst and reconciliation in this fic are heartwrenching.

Home (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

My dentist bill the month was higher than normal, due to the new cavities caused by this fic.

Imperfectly Yours (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

Cuteness overload as you get Dean's perspective of Home ^^

Second Hand News (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

Alright listen. I am a glutton for punishment.  And this fic, I asked for.  Also i had it set within one of the universes we now own.  That all being said, reading this was like a dose of my own medicine and it fucking hurt.

Honesty And Lies (oneshot) by @crashdevlin

This was super dirty, and great.  Totally recommend. 

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

The Classifieds (oneshot) by @talesmaniac89

This is rip your heart out and stomp on it angst right here. So well written, but so, so heartbreaking.

So Much More Than Perfect (oneshot) by @imagineteamfreewill

This fic is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read. It made me tear up a bit, but who doesn’t love Dean being the most protective, most adorable dad ever?!

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Dear Dean (series) by @smol-and-grumpy

It’s one of those series that makes you wants more after every chapter. It’s a brilliant story.

Left Behind (series) by @kittenofdoomage

It’s the only John Fic I can read over and over and over again. Its hot, the plot is awesome! And it makes me wants more each and every time I read it.

Not Much Left (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

I think Beka tries to kill her readers every time she writes smut… or she just tap into our mind what we want or what we fantasize about. Every single time I’m speechless by her talents!

Yes Professor (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

It’s a Misha fic, there’s no one who write Misha the way Beka does!!!

Owe You One (series) by @supernatural-jackles

It’s such a great series! The friends with Benefit and Mechanic!Dean… I just love this so much and I don’t have words to describe how good this one is!!

Flirty In French (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

This is brilliant, and I know its an old one, but from someone who finally decided to read more and from someone who is from Quebec, this is absolutely brilliant! The flirty french pick up line are so hilarious!

Nominated by @moosekateer13

Watching for Comets (series) by @holylulusworld

This fic beautifully captures the song that it was inspired by.

It also showcases things that when things are meant to be.

I’ll will all fall into place.

Please Trust Me (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

This fic beautifully emotionally captures what it’s like to have trust issues.

Nominated by @fictionalabyss

Last Call (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer 

It was everything we needed and wanted.

Culinary Exploits (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer  

Too utterly ridiculous not to get a mention.

His Omega (oneshot) by @iflostreturntosteverogers 

A sweet little comfort fic of Dean being utterly perfect caring for his Omega. Carrie also pulled off keeping this gender neutral, which isn’t something I see a lot of, and probably something I’d struggle with, so hats off to you, babe.

Poison (oneshot) by @supernatural-jackles 

YES omg i feel this on such a level. I’ve gone through that shit myself. A friend who lets you down so profoundly but then acts as if you’re the most toxic person in the world.  Nothing feels as good as letting go of that shit and moving on to better things. This was beautiful, and perfect, and TRUTH.

Amara (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer  

This one hurt. It really hurt, but it hurt so good that I’m left wanting more.

Take Me Now (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87  

If Dawn doesn’t continue this, I’ll riot.

Stuck On You (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage  

I rarely read a fic this long (I just don’t usually have the time) but it looked too interesting for me to scroll past, and it had me completely captivated. I needed to know what would happen as if I needed air, even though I could guess how it ended, I needed to read the words. Phenomenal.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 1/10) (au)

Summary: Killian's daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn't care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself. 

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: There will be a part where pictures are posted without permission. It happens much later in the fic but if that’s not your thing, I want to put it out there now. And, of course, sexual content will be present. I will update these warnings for each chapter to pinpoint those sections!

A Special Thank You: Oh man, how do I put my gratitude into words? There are two constants in my CS fic writing life that I am so incredibly lucky to have. Thank you @captainstudmuffin for just downright prodding me in the ass to keep me moving when I wanted to give up. You were always there in the right capacity to keep me going. You did that reverse psychology thing with me that I always do to you with “Well, if you want to give up, that’s your choice...” and it worked. And then there’s @phiralovesloki who has listened to me self-depreciate for hours on end and still keeps me moving forward. And then you both turned your attentions to helping me get this thing edited and proofread. You handled all my tantrums, all my fits, all my problems. I love you both to the moon and back. 

And of course, thank you to the @captainswanbigbang for going with this rewrite idea. All of you modding this and putting shit in line and answering questions and being awesome and informative and helpful... my eternal gratitude for helping get this, my possible magnum opus, finished and out to the fandom. Much love to you all!

A/N: I wrote a lot of notes above here to start. Because of that, I’ll keep this line brief. Enjoy!

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 1: The Art of Routines

September 30: Monday

Every day, Killian Jones walks from his respectable dwelling by the Storybrooke Harbor to where he works, located right off the main drag. Storybrooke is nearly the definition of small-town America, but it houses a quaint-sized office of a British publishing firm that opened a branch over here last year. Three months ago, Killian took a chance to upend his whole life and applied for a junior editing position.

From a life in the Navy to a redirection of passions towards the fine art of literature, Killian has used a rigorous set of routines to get through every major upheaval in his life, including but not limited to the aforementioned relocation from London to a small speck on the map.

He uses his daily habits from the moment his alarm sounds in the morning until he shuts his eyes at night – operating his life in a tidy way and controlling what he can control while doing his best to accept whatever tries to throw him off.

Because of his method to build up his regimens, he knows that anything that lasts beyond two weeks becomes more likely to stick.

And for six weeks, Emma Swan has been part of his routines. Monday through Friday they cross the street together. They never speak. Sometimes they’ll smile and nod in greeting, but it’s enough in Killian’s book. Or at least, they’ve come to some unspoken agreement that it’s enough. Since the middle of August, this has been his norm, and thus it is now just another thing that marks time throughout his days.

The only reason he knows her name is because of the star-shaped badge she wears on her hip. That and being the sister of the sheriff are dead-giveaways to an identity. He’d heard of Emma long before he saw her as Will Scarlet filled him in on the townies. She, on the other hand, probably doesn’t even know his name. But he’s okay with that. He’s not out to meet the love of his life – not after what he went through with his last major relationship – but to enjoy a walk across the street with an ease he doesn’t understand and doesn’t have to. 

Day after day, he continues on, never looking back to see if she’s still looking at him. He’s afraid of what he might find if he does: either she’s also glancing back and this immediately becomes something different, or she isn’t and he’s effectively found himself with some kind of rejection complex. Both ideas are ridiculous. At the mere thought, Killian snorts and picks up his pace. 

On October 1st, Killian discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as his. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Killian either doesn’t hear it or turns it off in his sleep. He wakes, instead, to the sound of his text messages going off in quick succession, followed by the phone ringing and Will’s chirpy voice alerting him as he answers that he’s going to be late. 

With that, his eyes shoot fully open and he throws himself into action, hoping to get out the door in record time. He skips the coffee and the shower, throwing on the clothes he set out last night and hoping his hair stays in place with the water he combs through it. He’s out the door fifteen minutes late. His boss, Robin, will hopefully understand - he’s one of the most easy-going people Killian has ever met. Will is going to take the piss out of him, but that’s no different from any other day. Killian knew it was a mistake to share his location with his friend but in this case, with Will able to see that he was still at home when he should already be making his journey, he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

Instead, what he’s most upset about is that he’s going to miss Deputy Swan standing at their corner. 

And he’s right: she’s not there when he gets to the intersection. He pushes the button and diligently waits until it turns before crossing, just as he always does. It’s when he gets a full view of the patio in front of Granny’s that his steps suddenly halt. There she is, checking her phone and sipping from a to-go cup, standing at the table closest to the entrance. She glances up and sees him on the other side of the small fence that surrounds the front of the patio, and her eyes go wide. 

Quickly, she jams her phone in her pocket and exits the patio with two cups in hand, heading towards the sheriff’s station and away from him until she stops just as suddenly. She turns around to where he’s still glued in spot, knowing that each extra minute is asking for more torture from Will, but she walks up to him and he wouldn’t move if a bus came careening down the sidewalk at him. 

“Hi. This might be weird but… nevermind. Forget it.” She turns again, but Killian hastens after her. 

“What seems to be the problem, love?”

She spins around to face him again, a perturbed look on her face. He doesn’t know if it’s at him or herself, though, so he waits for her response.

“I’m not…” The words trail off, but she redirects. “I thought you might need coffee. You’re always so punctual. Figured if you were running late, you didn’t have any. But that’s probably ridiculous and just…” she trails off again, turning to dump the to-go cup into the bin nearby but Killian lunges for it. 

“No no, wait!” He catches the cup just before it leaves her grip, smiling wide when he successfully rescues it. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate it.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds, surprised at the devilish tone to the words. The only time he flirts anymore is when he’s two pints in at The Rabbit Hole on a rare night out with Will, and even then it’s with no intent behind it. His watch buzzes and Killian glances down to see Will is calling him again. When he sees the time, he can understand why. “Bloody hell. I’m incredibly late,” he says quickly, moving to continue his journey to the office and forgetting all his manners. 

“Is there something else I can call you, Incredibly Late?”

“Killian Jones!” he calls out as he gets to the corner by the post office. He spins on his heels to turn back to her, lifting the coffee again in thanks.

There’s an odd little smile on her face when he says it, but he’s still moving and has no time to wonder what it’s all about. “See you tomorrow, Jones!” 

Her words follow him around the corner and he grins as he picks up the pace to the office.

He’s amazed at how quickly his day turns around after officially meeting Emma Swan. Robin isn’t even mad when he shows up late, just happy that he’s finally sitting in front of his computer working on the endless edits he’s been helping with for a new book by an established writer. One that has terrible punctuation skills, apparently. And spelling. And grammar.

It’s barely been a half hour when he finds his thoughts drifting to the woman he only knows by name and reputation, and knows that somehow, his daily routines will never look quite the same. He wonders how much this little interaction means to her, too, if she looked so out of sorts when he was late today. And startlingly, he realizes that it did turn into something.

Running a hand over his face, Killian looks back at the page he’s supposed to be proofreading. He’s read the same sentence at least three times and still can’t figure out why it doesn’t feel right. It’s too early in the day to shut his office door and start reading everything out loud, however, so instead he saves his changes and closes the file, opening up a rain app on his phone and letting the sound soothe him while he stands up and stretches. 

“If you’re playing the calming sounds, I feel like you’re ready for more coffee,” Will says from his doorway. 

“You’re probably right,” Killian says, finishing his current stretch and turning off the app. “Shall we?”

“Ask Robin what he wants. Your treat since you were so late this morning,” his friend adds as he turns from the doorway. 

Killian makes a noise of aggravation, but still walks the short length to Robin’s office to inquire. 

Robin is locked in his own work, looking back and forth between three cover mockups that Will’s department would’ve sent over when they were ready. He glances up when Killian enters but only barely. “Coffee run?” the other man asks as he nudges each design around. 

This, too, is like clockwork in his life, which is why Robin already knows why he’s standing in his doorway. “Aye. Would you like me to bring back the usual or will you need something stronger today?”

“The usual is fine. Else I’ll be tempted to add liquor to it and no one at the home office will appreciate what I think of their last company email.”

“I have that whole rant recorded. You’d better make sure I don’t have anything stronger today or else they’ll get it verbatim.”

“Remind me to have you killed later this week after that chapter is edited.”

“I’ll pass it on to your secretary to be added to your calendar,” Killian mentions offhandedly while he leaves Robin’s office. This isn’t the first time Robin has scheduled to kill him for information he has on his superior. Killian’s sure it won’t be the last, either. 

As he leaves, Killian catches sight of the pictures on the wall. There’s a few scattered around his office, mostly of Robin’s adorable son Roland and his late wife. Marian passed just after Roland was born, making Robin’s decision to head up the American branch of NeverEndings Publishing House an easy one. The reason he’s stayed so long is also evident in the pictures of Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, scattered among the others. Regina was his “diamond in the rough” - the woman he never expected to meet and fall in love with shortly after he set up shop here. 

Along with pictures, there are paintings and his degrees, an antique wall clock that matches everything else, and a vintage bow and arrow hung behind the mahogany desk he nearly lives in some days. The whole thing feels like the den of some expensive cabin in the woods, but Killian knows for a fact that Robin put most of this together on the cheap. 

He passes his own little office again, noting the blank walls, the tidy desk, the single chair on the opposite side for small one-on-one meetings. He’s never really gotten around to decorating his work area. His degrees are still in one of the boxes in his flat, as are all the pictures of his friends and family from back home. 

There’s a single frame on his desk - just a picture of him and Liam at graduation that was packed into his luggage when he moved. Liam is beaming with pride while Killian looks like he’s about to bolt from the courtyard they had all gathered in after the ceremony. His left arm is tucked close by his side, and he knows for a fact it’s because he was trying to hide the prosthetic hook he wears from being in the pictures.

“So, why were you late today?” Will asks when they reach the doors and head outside.

“Alarm malfunctions,” Killian responds, as if there could be something besides human error to blame. Will just nods as they make the short trek down the street to Granny’s. Foolishly, Killian hopes to find his favorite deputy out patrolling or stopping for her own midday caffeine, but the only blonde in the diner is Ashley, the attentive but clumsy young server. 

Well, the only blonde woman. Dr. Whale, trying his best to flirt with Ruby, doesn’t count. 

“Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last three minutes?” Will asks, a touch of exasperation in his voice but humor lighting up his eyes. Instead of answering, Killian just pushes him forward to place his order. He pulls Killian up next to him and presents him to Ruby. “Tell Jones here that he has to come out with us on Friday.”

“The only thing I have to tell Jones is to place his damn order,” Ruby responds, her expression challenging Will in the way that only Ruby can. She looks back to Killian with a sweet smile. “You paying for all three?” He nods as he hands over the cash. Ruby winks at him, processing the change and handing it back before spinning from the register to make their drinks.

“Come on, mate. Come out this Friday.”

“I still have things I’m trying to unpack.”

“You’ve been saying you were going to unpack those things for the last three months.” He throws air quotes when he says “things” as if they’re fictitious items Killian invented for the sake of an excuse. He almost invites Will over to see what he’s talking about but feels like that would somehow turn into a standing invitation for his colleague to come over whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? And now I might mean it,” Killian retorts instead. Ruby places their drinks down on the counter before Will can press any further, and Killian spends an extra moment thanking the younger Lucas for exceptional service, as always.

“Kiss ass,” Ruby says as they gather their drinks and leave. There’s a smile on her face, though, and Killian knows that her days would be infinitely less exciting without him and Will pestering her at least once an afternoon. 

When they get back, Will takes Robin his coffee without having to be asked, which Killian is grateful for. But he’s barely seated in front of his computer again before Will is popping back up in his doorway.

“You’ve been summoned to the dungeons, mate.”

Killian drops his head for a second, trying to gather the energy to just… get up and go see if suddenly his benevolent boss has had a change in heart regarding his tardiness this morning. But Robin just waves him in and motions for him to sit down. 

“As you know, we originally hired you to be a junior editor to collaborate on projects.”

“Aye, that was the explanation I was given when I interviewed.”

“Well, we’ve gotten a new project that I’d like to see you take on. This isn’t quite a promotion, but it’s a test to see if I can trust you with something bigger than just standard edits to a pompous arse that doesn’t know his p’s from his q’s… literally.”

“I’m definitely interested. What is this project?”

“A young author has written a novella that twists fairy tales. It’s short but it’s deep, and I want your best on proofreading, but also on suggesting edits. He’ll be in to discuss the project at the end of this month, so keep working on your current progress until then. I’ll send all the files your way this weekend so you can start reviewing them whenever you’d like. Sound good?”

“Sounds excellent,” Killian says, genuine enthusiasm coloring his answer. “I look forward to it.”

Another disruption to the orderly life he’s been living, but honestly, this is almost as good as meeting Emma Swan. At least this feels like his disastrous start to October is no indication on how the rest of the month will go. 

-x- October 2: Wednesday

The next morning, Killian is back to his impeccable schedule, so he’s calm and collected when he strolls up to the crosswalk. Only minutes later, Emma walks up, eyes trained on her phone, earbuds playing music that she nods her head in time with. He takes a moment before she notices him to appreciate the view, to take in the dark jeans she likes to wear instead of a uniform, with black boots up to her knees. Her red leather jacket is half-zipped. Soon the weather is going to grow colder and he wonders if she’ll be warm enough on her walks.

She looks up, then, and smiles at Killian while he raises a hand in greeting. She hesitantly waves back, moving to stand next to him while they wait. 

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets just as the light changes and they start to cross. Her response is mumbled as she pulls the earbud from one ear.

“Have a good day, Jones,” she says, dipping her head as a parting gesture. There’s a smile pulling at his cheeks, and he turns to look at where he’s going instead of risking the possibility of running into something and ruining his mood.

For the rest of the week, they get to the crosswalk and he greets her. They part ways at the diner with her sending salutations before she walks up the path. In a way, it becomes a new routine for them. It’s one of the only changes to his days that he’s accepted as a normal progression instead of an uninvited intrusion.

On Friday, hours after his daily dose of Emma, he’s in the middle of the last chapter he has to edit when Will pops into his doorway in the afternoon. He goes to save the files and start the coffee routine, but Will enters the room fully and places two coffees and a bag with lunch on the corner of his desk.

“I hear you’ve got a bigger project coming up. Figured I’d be a good mate for once and encourage hard work instead of mucking around like we usually do on Fridays.”

The times that Will has been genuinely kind to him are definitely countable on his hand, so he’s almost afraid to ask if there’s a “but” included somewhere in there. However, Will just gives him a cheeky grin and heads right back out the door. 

When he’s made the final change and checked over the whole chapter again, it’s beyond the time that he normally leaves, even when he stays late. His eyes are burning and his stomach is growling again, but there’s a sense of victory when he sends the files back to Robin and shuts down his office for the weekend. 

He’s surprised to find Will on the couch in the reception area, asleep by the looks of it, and Killian is this tempted to leave him there because he knows exactly why his friend is still there. But the man brought him lunch and still owes him a beer for repayment of some good deed or another, so he knocks into one of Will’s shoes and snorts as he startles awake. 

“Come on, then. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Damn right, you are.” Will’s response is groggy and expected.

Killian makes sure the building is locked up tight before they walk the few blocks over to The Rabbit Hole. He’d rather be in bed, or watching whatever his neglected Netflix queue has in store for him. While Will obviously went home and changed into something more casual, Killian is still stuck in his suit from work. It’ll have to do.

One drink, that’s all he’s promised, and then he’s going home to get the sleep he deserves and return to his normal order of events.

They’re barely through the door when he realizes his plan is going straight into the bin. There, in all her blonde glory, is Emma Swan. She’s parked near the end of the bar waiting for Jefferson to take her order. As he moves towards her, he hears Will greeting other acquaintances, but he’s too focused on getting to interact with Emma outside of their usual crosswalk that he doesn’t veer off course. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he greets as he props up next to her. 

She jumps a little, clearly not expecting him to be there beside her, but regains her speech far easier than he would’ve if the situation were reversed.

“I’m sorry, you’re that figment of my imagination that only lives on Main Street. What are you doing here?”

He chuckles at her description of him and rubs behind his ear in a nervous gesture. Two more sentences and this will officially be the longest he’s ever spoken with Emma, and he’s enjoying it far more than he should.

“Out for a drink with my mate Will to celebrate a project ending.”

“Scarlet? See, I always thought you had better taste than that,” she says, a smirk on her face and her eyes shifting over Killian’s shoulder to where Will must’ve come up behind him. 

“Oy, just because I’m romancing your friend doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Emma responds to him, but there’s lightness and sarcasm in the whole exchange. 

“Romancing? You mean you finally worked up the nerve to tell Belle you fancy her?”

“Like three weeks ago, mate. This is why I tell you to come out more often.” Will claps Killian on the shoulder with those words, accepting the beer that Jefferson deposits on the bar for him, and walking back to the large gathering of people in the middle of the room that Killian is just realizing are mostly people he knows.

“Not one for socializing very often?” Emma asks, following his line of sight and waving to her brother at the table. Killian swallows a little harder when David sizes him up, eyes scrutinizing the whole time. 

“Not as much as I used to. Will and I usually make our ventures out earlier in the evening and in the middle of the week when we do.”

“So is it the expat club or something? You and Will, Robin, Belle. I think Tink stops in and drinks with them every couple weeks or so, too.”

“Will and I work at NeverEndings with Robin. The rest is all just coincidence.”

She hums in consideration, sipping slowly from her drink. “There’s room at the table. Wanna come join us, too?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Is your brother going to murder me for speaking to you for longer than three and a half minutes?”

She glances back at David, who turns back to the group suddenly, clearly pretending he wasn’t watching them.

“Listen, he’s overprotective but he’s yet to kill anyone I had a conversation with. People I’ve dated, on the other hand…” she trails off, lifting her eyebrows to emphasize with a little shrug. 

He can’t help the laughter that erupts from him at that. She’s delightful. He could spend all his days having frivolous conversations with her and probably never grow tired of it.

“Come on, I promise he doesn’t bite unless you ask. Which is unfortunately more than I ever wanted to know but that’s what happens when you become best friends with your brother’s wife.”

“Thanks for sharing your pain with me. I hope it eases the burden of your knowledge,” he says low enough so only she can hear as he pulls out one of the remaining chairs for her. Her thank you is a quiet and pleased murmur, and he has to remind his heart to stop the constant drumroll so he can get through this evening with his dignity intact. He drops into the seat next to Emma and tries to bury the way his skin itches at the sudden change in his routine. 

A chorus of introductions goes around, with Emma giving names to random faces as she goes. He does know a majority of the people at the table, even if just by reputation. It’s nice to meet the kind schoolteacher that is David’s aforementioned wife, though he’s seen her in the library more than a handful of times since his arrival in town. 

“Everyone calls me Snow,” she explains after Emma calls her Mary Margaret. “Less syllables, more Disney Princess-ish.” When the topic shifts from greetings to the usual breakdown of everyone’s days, Killian seizes the moment no one is paying attention to them. 

“A Disney Princess that enjoys a little kink in the bedroom. Good to know,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear, and her hushed laughter is music he wants to play again and again. 

When the conversation really starts flowing, he finds he’s less interested in drinking away his week and happier to engage with the people around the table. David still regards him with suspicion, but it probably helps that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to crawl into Emma’s knickers as the night continues on. He finished his singular beer ages ago but opts for water during his next trip up to the bar, along with food because Emma bursts out laughing when his stomach growls in the middle of her talking about a digital filing system they’re implementing. 

Emma nurses her one drink, and so he’s relieved to find her willingness to talk is due to genuine interest instead of alcohol’s influence. Of course, it may be because he’s supplying her in onion rings until she finally orders her own.

Their group slowly begins to break up, starting with the people who have someone home waiting on them. Then the couples start to leave, and Killian is pleasantly surprised when Emma all but shoves David out the door with Snow, insisting that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. 

They talk of all things small: she tells him about working law enforcement in a small town, and he shares his experiences in Storybrooke since moving. She asks about his job and actually listens when he starts talking. 

“What’s this then?” Killian asks when Emma pushes up her sleeves. 

She looks down at it, scoffing a little. “A dumb symbol of youth and rebellion,” she replies. “I got it when I was sixteen because James and I got in an argument about how perfectly behaved I was.”

“James?”

“Oh, David has a twin brother. You know how people joke about having an evil twin? David actually has one.”

“Your family is delightful,” he comments, wanting to reach out and touch the heavy lines of the flower on her wrist. “Why this?”

“Buttercups are my favorite flower.” He’s learned so many new things about her so very quickly, but he files this information away in the event he has a chance to use it.

It’s when their whole group has officially departed that they realize the rest of the establishment is similarly abandoned, with only Jefferson wiping down bottles behind the bar. 

“Sorry about that, mate. Time for us to clear out?”

“I was gonna wait until I was done cleaning to see if you even noticed the place was empty,” Jefferson responds when Killian sets the last few glasses on the counter. Emma is behind him at the table still, gathering the smattering of bottles and the rest of the stuff to be washed. “Been a while since I’ve seen her talk that much to anyone she didn’t grow up with,” the other man remarks, nodding his head towards Emma. 

“My favorite bartender back home would probably say the same of me,” Killian admits, placing a few extra bills on the bar as a tip and wandering back over to help Emma get the last of the dishes from his late dinner and her ridiculously large pile of onion rings, of which she ate every last one.

“Thanks Jeff. Have a safe trip home,” Emma tells him as she hands him the items.

As they start walking, he expects anything but for Emma to fall back into casual conversation with him about the moving process he went through. He takes it in stride as they slowly amble down the street and back to their crosswalk. 

“I’m this way,” Emma says, indicating the direction she normally arrives from in the mornings. 

“I know,” Killian responds, his tone soft and content. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Emma.”

He holds out his hand, giving hers a firm shake. Once upon a time he was a lad who could court a woman without blinking an eye. It’s that thought that has him turning her hand and bringing it to his lips, eyeing her playfully from beneath his lashes as he looks up at her. This small gesture feels so foreign, but he likes the way she’s giving him a puzzled little smile.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“See you Monday, Jones,” she almost whispers as he releases her hand. 

They head off in their separate directions, with Killian gently brushing his lips in wonder. 

Routines be damned, this is much better than a casual wave in the mornings.

-x-

Chapter 2

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Holding Up The Universe

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Reader

Summary: She worked in an animal shelter and sometimes it felt a bit too much like she was holding up the universe

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I’ve been talking about this fic for so long but for Day Three of my 4K Write Fest I actually finished it!! I hope you guys enjoy reading it, I loved writing it. As always, please remember to let me know what you thought - comment, reblog, send an ask, anything! I love hearing from you guys!!!

And if you wanna check out the other things that will be coming out for the Write Fest click here: 4K Write Fest

The woman at the desk in the lobby of the animal shelter was reading a book.

Brian couldn’t help but stare at her as he paused in the doorway, the door being propped open by a chair to let in the warm summer breeze. 

If it weren’t for the heavy cardboard box in his hands, the contents of which had just begun to move a little, the tiny animal inside seemingly having just woken up, he wondered whether or not he would have admired the woman for a little longer.

“Hi - sorry to bother you,” Brian spoke up instead, gaining the attention of the woman, whose head snapped up, wide eyed in surprise at her sudden company.

A smile quickly formed on her face as she bookmarked her page, shaking her head at him.

“Hey, sorry about that. Wasn’t expecting it to be busy today,” she assured him, placing her book down and standing up from behind the desk. “How can I help you?”

“I found a hedgehog in my garden earlier today,” Brian explained awkwardly and she gestured for him to bring the box over and set it down on the table. 

“Was she injured at all?” The woman inquired, opening the cardboard box.

“Yeah, I think so. Sorry - I wasn’t sure where else to bring him,” Brian told her apologetically. The woman gave him a dazzling smile, shrugging her shoulders at his concerned tone.

“It’s alright - we mainly just do rescue animals like dogs, cats, rabbits and such but we’d never turn away a hedgehog in need,” she assured him, winking. That simple action went straight to his heart and had him beaming back at her.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brian said, for lack of a witty response on his part.

“So he was just in your garden?” 

“Yeah, just chilling there.” Brian confirmed. 

“Aw, well, we’ll definitely get her checked out, make sure she’s okay and we’ll see what happens,” the woman said with a bright smile that lit up her eyes.

“Thanks!” Brian said. “Do you want me to move the box for you? It’s pretty heavy,” he offered.

“Um, yeah, sure if you’re offering - we’re low staffed today because it’s been so empty lately and one of my coworkers called in sick this morning anyway,” the woman laughed, pushing open the door behind the desk, which presumably led to where the animals currently being cared for in the rescue centre were kept. 

“So how many are in today?”

“Just me and another girl,” she shrugged. “But I think she’s out in the back. She’s new so we don’t talk much,” Brian joined in with her laughter.

“I’m Brian, by the way,” the woman gestured for him to put down the box on the table in the back room, where there were pens filled with sawdust and little habitats, holes in the wall where the animals were able to go through into the garden outside the back of the rescue centre. 

Brian presumed that this was where they would keep the nocturnal wild animals before they were able to be safely re-released into their natural habitats.

The woman held out her hand to Brian once he had placed the box containing the hedgehog onto the table she indicated to him.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brian said as he took her hand, thrilled at having learnt her name.

“You too! Thanks for bringing the little guy in - a lot of people wouldn’t have,” Y/N said, letting go of Brian’s hand and opening the cardboard box to look at the hedgehog, which had nestled itself comfortably into the towels which Brian had put in the bottom of the box, unsure of the best course of action of how to care for the small animal on his trip over to the rescue shelter. 

“Thanks for looking after him,” Brian shrugged in response, taking the chance as Y/N was examining the hedgehog to allow his eyes to trace over her features, drinking her in in a way that he knew would probably make her uncomfortable if she caught him doing it, but he couldn’t help it. 

Brian thought she was beautiful.

///

Brian hated himself for how much he found himself visiting the rescue centre that Y/N worked at.

The first few times he came after coming in the first time to drop off the hedgehog, he had done so under the premise that he was checking up on the little animal that he had brought in, wanting to check up on it’s progress and make sure that it was healing from the broken leg it had - Y/N had explained the extent of the hedgehog’s injuries to him the second time he had come in, eager to let him know the progress of the animal he had saved. 

By this point, three weeks after having originally met her, Brian didn’t even attempt to pretend that he was at the rescue centre for any reason other than to see Y/N.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind, though. 

She never failed to greet him with a wide smile, her eyes sparkling with pure joy. Something which he would sometimes make fun of her for, claiming that he must be the best part of her day judging by how happy she seemed every time that he entered into the centre. 

Y/N claimed that her happiness came as a result of the coffee which Brian had taken to buying her on his way over.

Everytime that he would pay her a visit, Y/N would take him to see the animals currently residing in the shelter under her care. Brian loved those moments, to be able to see Y/N completely in her element, walking around the shelter with such confidence, knowing exactly what she needed to do to ensure the safety and well-being of the animals.

“Back again?” Y/N teased when Brian walked into the rescue shelter. He raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head back towards the door.

“I can go, if you want - I’m sure one of the guys would happily take this coffee if you don’t want it?” 

“Let's not be rash now,” Y/N protested, making Brian laugh, taking the coffee over and placing it into her outstretched hand. “How’s it going with the guys anyway? Any advances on the record?” 

It hadn’t taken long for Y/N to recognise Brian as being the guitarist in Queen, she was a fan of theirs and the second time Brian had come in she had been straight-up and asked him whether or not it was actually him. 

Brian had been wary about agreeing, unsure of what her reaction would be. But she had jumped to apologise about ambushing him with the question, assuring him that she had no malicious intent against him through placing his identity. 

Brian had trusted her immediately and confirmed her suspicions, laughing when she recounted her story to him about going to see them play at their last London show.

“Slowly,” Brian admitted with a sigh - he had taken to offloading his worries about the albums onto her, knowing that she wouldn’t spread his concerns any further than just between the two of them, thankful to now have a confidant. It went two ways, though, of course, he was  often the person who Y/N would go to to vent about her coworkers and how stressed she felt with how understaffed they actually were at the shelter.

“Still no inspiration?” Y/N asked sympathetically as Brian dragged up a chair to sit opposite the desk she was sat behind.

“No - and the few songs we have managed to write we can’t agree on,” he added.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Roger hates everything Freddie’s written, Freddie hates everything I’ve written, I hate everything Deaky’s written and he hates everything that Roger’s written. It all goes around in circles but it means that we can’t agree on any songs that all of us actually like,” Brian grumbled.

“Sounds like fun,” Brian released a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head.

“I’m pretty close to just breaking my guitar over my head if I’m honest,” he stated, revelling in the sound of laughter it brought from her. 

“How long are you there for?” Brian glanced at the clock on the desk and let out a sigh. 

“I’m meant to be there in half an hour and we probably won’t leave until midnight, when Fred quite literally passes out,” Y/N pouted at him sympathetically. “How long are you working for?”

“I was meant to be getting off in an hour and a half but Jess called in sick-”

“Again?”

“My sentiments exactly,” Y/N agreed grimly. “So I’m staying late again.”

“You’re not working tomorrow though, are you?” Brian asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice but Y/N appeared to pick up on it regardless, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Not yet, but you never really know with this job,” Y/N confirmed. “What’s going on?”

“I just… I was wondering if you’d maybe want to get some coffee together,” Brian proposed. Y/N lifted her cup at him.

“What did you think we were doing right now?” She asked but when Brian looked at her he saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“You’re really gonna make me ask it?”

“How else will I know that we’re on the same page?”

“God you’re annoying.”

“Do you want to get coffee together or not?” Brian smiled at her expression.

“Y/N Y/L/N, if you could spare the time from your incredibly busy schedule, tomorrow would you like to go on a date with me?”

///

“You seem nervous,” Brian commented when he opened the door to his apartment to see his girlfriend on the other side, a bottle of wine in her hand and a nervous smile on her face.

“Probably because I am,” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes. Brian stepped to the side to allow Y/N into the hallway, chuckling at her words.

“I don’t know why,” he said, pecking her lips quickly.

“Oh yeah, can’t imagine,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes at his nonchalant attitude. “Not like I’m about to meet your best friends, nevermind the other members of Queen.”

“Trust me, they’re all tossers,” Brian assured her. “Nothing to worry about,” he added, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N muttered. “You’ve already met them.”

Brian laughed again, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her further into his apartment, kicking the front door closed behind them.

“You’d hope I had wouldn’t you - considering that we’re in a band together and all,” Brian mused.

“Is that her, darling?” Freddie called from the kitchen, where he was standing with John, who was uncapping two bottles of beer. 

“Yeah! This is Y/N,” he confirmed.

“Nice to meet you, darling, Bri has talked non-stop about you,” Freddie was swift to move over towards her, a charming smile on his face as he held his hand out towards her. 

“N-nice to meet you too,” Brian squeezed Y/N’s shoulder affectionately.

“She’s a bit nervous. She’s a fan,” Brian informed Freddie, whose eyes lit up in response. John was watching the interaction with amusement dancing across his face. All the guys loved seeing people interacting with and talking to Freedie for the first time, especially people who were fans of the band as they never really knew what to expect from the singer.

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Freddie enthused, taking Y/N’s hand and shaking it, despite her not having offered it to him. “We’re also big fans - Deaky here is actually my biggest fan.”

John looked at him, expressionless other than a slightly raised eyebrow. He turned his eyes onto Y/N and said, completely deadpan: “I’ve never loved anyone more than I love Freddie.”

“Good to know,” a woman’s voice stated from behind Brian and Y/N.

“Y/N - this is Deaky’s girlfriend, Veronica. Veronica, this is Y/N.”

“Of course you are!” Veronica smiled, holding out her hand for Y/N to take. “We’ve all heard so much about you.”

“That seems to be the theme of the evening, yeah.” Y/N chuckled, looking at Brian in amusement. “How much do you talk about me, exactly?”

“Oh it’s fucking endless, honestly - hedgehog girl this, hedgehog girl that. Makes me consider taking a drumstick and shoving it through my own eye.” Roger grumbled.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

///

“Shit - Y/N? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Y/N had gotten three steps into Brian’s apartment and started to cry.

Brian had rushed out of the kitchen, where he was preparing dinner for the two of them, at the sound of her sobs, his heart clenching with worry as he observed her.

“Fuck - come here,” Brian pulled her into his arms, hugging her as close as he could manage, dropping his chin on top of her head and rocking them both backwards and forwards gently.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N sobbed into his chest. Brian rubbed his hands up and down her arm in his best attempt at comforting her.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Angel,” Brian soothed, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Come on, let's get you sat down somewhere more comfortable, yeah?” He suggested and Y/N nodded with a little sniffle, pulling away and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.

Y/N allowed Brian to lead her into his living room, where he pushed her gently down onto the sofa, grabbing the blanket from its back and draping it over her, watching as she sunk into the pillows, the personification of exhaustion when her eyes fell closed, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks from under her now-closed eyelids.

“Where are you going?” Y/N whimpered, her eyes opening when Brian began to move away from the sofa.

“Just gonna turn the dinner off - don’t want it getting burnt, sweetheart,” Brian soothed her, kissing her forehead again before straightening up. “I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promised.

When he returned he brought with him two mugs of tea and a pack of biscuits, knowing by now in their relationship the best way to calm her down when she was upset. 

Y/N wordlessly held her arms out for him, though, and Brian sat on the sofa next to her, pulling her into his grip as she began to cry a little again. 

“You wanna talk about it, Angel?” Brian probed gently once Y/N’s tears seemed to subside, little sniffles and the occasional tear left in their wake.

“I’m just so stressed, Bri,” she admitted, nestling herself closer to him, a mournful expression on her face.

“Shelter stuff?” Brian asked sympathetically, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah I just… it feels like I’m the only one working there, you know? And it’s just so stressful and I hate the people I work with and I love the animals - I do! I love that I can help them and everything but it just all feels so far out of my control so much of the time and I don’t… I just feel so alone there, like everyone and everything is relying solely on me,” the words tumbled quickly from her lips, as though she had been holding them inside of herself for so long that they were relieved to finally be able to burst free.

Brian’s arms tightened around her.

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Brian conceded before shrugging a little helplessly. “But I’m still sorry that you feel like this.”

“Does it make me a bad person?” Y/N questioned after a couple of minutes of silence filling the room.

“No - you’re human, Y/N/N. And you do practically run that shelter alone half the time with how understaffed you are and the amount of times people call in sick. Of course you’re tired and stressed, anyone can see how much you love the animals and how good you are at looking after them. You’re not a bad person for needing a break, okay, Angel?”

“Okay.”

“You feeling better?” Brian asked and Y/N lent forwards to pick up her mug of tea before nestling back into Brian’s side.

“Much - sorry about that.”

“Stop apologising, sweetheart, I’m just glad I could help.”

[enragedbees]

everything’s fine!

Pairing: moceit

Summary: Patton’s not okay, but he’ll never let Janus know that.

Warnings: panic attack, brief death mention, no happy ending (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 1273

A/N: me at 11:30pm: “maybe I’ll write a little fic, shouldn’t take me more than 45 minutes.”

me at 2am, half asleep on my computer: “I hate myself.”

please enjoy my rabbit hole of bad decisions, also I have no idea what I’m talking about throughout the whole thing, I’d appreciate it if you could suspend your disbelief for a few minutes, thank you

Taglist: @thenewlarislynn @xionbean @fall-sunflowers @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son @thetomorrowshow

Please let me know what you think! :)

——————————————-

        Patton barely made it into his car before the tears fell.

        He slammed the door shut, sealing himself into the warm, unmoving air, away from the dreary clouds and breezes a bit too cold for the season. He swung his backpack off of his shoulder and threw it into the passenger seat and hid his face in his hands and sobbed.

        It was too much. Patton had been watching it pile up for weeks, doing everything in his power to tackle it bit by bit. One step at a time, as his husband would have advised him.

        He had taken one step, and then another, and then a thousand more steps, all the while watching the finish line being pushed back ten thousand feet. Patton was suffocating, and he couldn’t understand why. He did everything right. He did what he was supposed to do.

        But he was so overwhelmed. And even as he sat in his car crying, he kept thinking of all the time he was wasting that could be used to work. The thought did nothing but make him cry harder.

        Patton had thought some space would be good. Two months would pass, and then things would be better.

        The opportunity he had been waiting for showed up at his doorstep, and Patton had made up his mind before he even brought it up to Janus.

        Patton would leave for eight weeks. They had been apart for longer periods in the past, Janus reminded him when Patton doubted himself. For eight weeks, he would leave his home and his husband and his daughter, and he’d come back and everything would be better.

        He would get promoted. They wouldn’t have to worry about money so much anymore.

        And Patton would have the space he needed.

        The space he thought he needed.

        But sitting in his car, three thousand miles from home, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life, Patton couldn’t remember why he thought it was a good idea. Every problem, every fight, every miserable evening spent on opposite sides of the bed seemed so insignificant now.

        So Patton didn’t think his life would turn out to be this way. Who did? No child, no teenager knew what it would be like to be an adult. Patton couldn’t be happy all the time.

        But he still had a good life. He had a husband and a baby he loved more than anything else in the world. Why would he want to give that up, even for only two months? Patton couldn’t even remember why he had been so miserable before leaving.

        And it wasn’t like Janus hadn’t made sacrifices to get them where they were. Without Patton, he could have had an incredible and successful life. They had given up a lot to be together. Janus didn’t deserve Patton’s misery; not when he had given Patton the world at the expense of his own future.

        Patton thought he needed space.

        But now he’d give anything in the world to be back home, in his husband’s arms, on the couch in their tiny one-bedroom, watching one of the movies they owned and had seen a million times, the baby asleep in her cradle in the bedroom. He wanted the simplicity, the mundanity, the boredom of the life he had wanted to escape.

        Patton didn’t want to be alone anymore.

        But it was too late now. He could have backed out before. At three weeks in, he was stuck until the course was over.

        With everything piling up, Patton didn’t know if he could finish. And if he didn’t finish, he’d have to redo the course. Another eight weeks.

        Patton wrapped his arms around himself and cried harder.

        His phone rang from inside his backpack, blaring “Vienna.” Janus’ ringtone.

        Patton’s gaze snapped toward his bag, but he made no move to retrieve his phone.

        He hadn’t been avoiding Janus’s calls. Not really. He just always managed to be too busy to answer when Janus called him.

        Patton sniveled and wiped at his eyes. He couldn’t pick up now. Even if Patton could keep himself from bursting into tears into the phone, Janus would be able to hear that he had been crying. Patton didn’t want to worry him, especially when he couldn’t do anything about it. Janus didn’t need the extra stress.

        Patton sat and stared at his bag until it stopped ringing. His eyes burned, and his breathing got faster, and all of a sudden he was bawling again.

        Patton could barely breathe. It was too much. It was suffocating. It was terrifying.

        Patton couldn’t do this. Patton breathed deep and fast and barely recognized that he was hyperventilating. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have done this. He couldn’t go through with it; he just wasn’t capable. He was so stupid to think he could do this, why did he ever do this, everything was fine why did he have to go and mess it up why why why why why ­­--

        His phone buzzed, and finally, Patton reached over and pulled it out of his bag. It was a text from Janus.

        Why haven’t I been able to get a hold of you lately? I want to hear from you. But it’s not because I miss you or anything. Complete with a winky face.

        Patton’s heart hurt. He read the text over and over again. I miss you. Things would have been alright, if he had just stayed, if he hadn’t tried to fix something that didn’t need fixing.

        Another text came in after a few seconds. But really, call me please.

        Patton turned his phone off and pulled his legs to his chest on the seat. He buried his face in his knees and cried harder.

        Things had needed fixing. They probably did need space.

        But not like this.

        Patton was satisfied with the distance he had gotten from the life he had thought made him so unhappy. He didn’t want to be on the other side of the country from the person he needed most. Patton was ready to go home. And he knew Janus would support him. Janus would help him get home.

        They couldn’t afford that.

        Patton had to stick it out until the end, and Janus would just end up convincing him to come home, that his mental health was more important than his certification. Usually, Patton would agree, but making sure that his family didn’t starve or become homeless was a higher priority.

        Patton still didn’t want to do this anymore.

        He took a few moments to cry. Patton knew he had to respond.

        He pulled out his phone, opened up the keyboard, stared at the screen. Patton so badly wanted to spill everything, to tell Janus how miserable and overwhelmed he was and how wrong he had been about everything.

        Patton’s breathing went faster and heavier, and tears rolled down his cheeks as he tapped the screen.

        Everything’s fine! Can’t talk now, maybe tomorrow, love you :)

        Patton turned off his phone and threw it to the side, aiming for the passenger seat but not caring enough to look at where it landed. He buried his face in his hands and wept.

        Janus never answered the text. A few hours passed and Patton saw he had read it, but no reply ever came.

        Patton spent most of the evening broken. He didn’t get much done. And he knew that everything he had failed to do would just add to the ever growing pile of frustration and exhaustion that was slowly killing him.

        But Patton just couldn’t force himself to care.