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fangroyal · 3 years

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years

Text

All it takes is one moment (Atsumu x reader)

A/N: uhhh sorry for dropping off the face of the earth!! I have a million WIPs I’ll hopefully be posting here shortly! I was reading a bunch of cheesy hurt/comfort fics last night and decided to make my own hehe, tbh it got me thinking of doing another one but no comfort and it turning into a slow burn with another character :0 Please read the warnings, this is Post-Timeskip, so spoilers for occupations. Everyone is probably like 25ish here? Also I apologize in advance for their accents, I tried in a few spots, I’m still getting used to it. (also @spiritofthescarletwoods I know you wanted to be tagged in the midoriya angst I promised a million years ago, but here’s some tsumu angst for now!)

Genre: Hurt/comfort or Angst with a happy ending

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader (uhmm pronouns I believe are gn but I do not proof read as we all know)

Word Count: 4.?k

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationships, insinuation of cheating, slight misogynistic vibes for a moment, crude language, Atsumu is mean :( (Probably OOC Osamu and Atsumu), Post-time skip ((Let me know if I need to add something!)

You and Atsumu have been together for about 3 years now, and it was great. The two of you were very much in love, supported each other, and rarely fought, as you tried to be as open and communicate as much as possible. The last relationship you were in was toxic and abusive, it took a long time for you to be yourself again, and Atsumu had supported you along the way, he knew what had happened, and he swore to never make you feel like that again. And he stuck by that, until today.

Even though you rarely fought, when you did, it was resolved quickly, but this time was not the same. It had started off small. You had an important event coming up for work, you would be presenting on your year long research project, having made big findings in your field work. It was a huge deal for you, but when you brought it up at dinner, Atsumu did not have the same opinion.

“What do you mean you can’t make it? Everything I’ve been working on had led up to this, this is a career changing presentation, and you don’t want to go?” Hurt was clearly evident in your voice, as was frustration. Atsumu sighed, he’d had a horrible week, there was a big game coming up with the Adler’s and he needed to be prepared. “Like I said, I have practice that night, You can tell me all about it when you get home. I don’t see why you’re making a big fuss ‘bout it, ‘s just a presentation babe.” You furrowed your eyebrows looking at him incredulously.

“Did you not listen to anything I just said? It’s not just a presentation, this is my career Atsumu. I consistently put my own work aside to support you, why can’t you do the same for me? It’s not like I’m asking you to miss a game, it’s a practice.” You could tell he was getting frustrated, but so were you, you made it a point to make every single game of his, missing out on work opportunities to come support him, him refusing to come to something so important was hurtful, and made you feel like you were less important than him, but before you could voice your feelings Atsumu spoke.

“This isn’t jus’ any practice. We have a big game comin’ up, it's important I’m there, ‘m the setter. Let's be real here, we both know which of us is the bread-maker in this household. This is basically a little hobby of yours, you can come back to it at any time. I’m a professional athlete hun, there’s only so much time I have before retirement.” He spoke in a condescending manner that baffled you. He’s never spoken to you like that before, is that how he really felt about your work? You scoffed, rising from the dinner table.

“Are you fucking kidding me, do you know condescending and frankly, misogynistic that was?” He sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed you with his plate, dinner half eaten and cold much like yours. “Here you go again” He muttered, though loud enough for you to hear. You dropped your plate in the sink and you looked at him, eyes wide, and furious.

“What did you just say to me? Here I go again? What the fuck does that mean Atsumu?” He set his plate on the counter, looking at you from across the island as he gripped the countertop. “What I mean is that yer always playing the victim, we get it, you last relationship was shitty, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like this all the time, I thought you got over it?”

You balked at him, was he serious right now? “Oh my god really? Are you seriously asking me if I got over an abusive relationship, after everything I’ve told you about it? After everything I had to do to get where I am now? We are supposed to support each other, I didn’t realize it was one sided.” Atsumu sighed, growing more frustrated, he tried to interrupt you, but you kept going,

“All I wanted was for you to come to one dinner, after the years we’ve been together I haven’t asked you to miss any games or practices for my work, you know my coworkers have asked if I’m single? They didn’t believe me when I told them I was in a relationship, and you know what? I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t believe me either, since they’ve never seen you, and I take all this time off to travel and support you, all of your team know who I am, why is it so hard for you to do the same?”

As you kept going, his anger only grew, he tried interrupting you again, but it was like you weren’t paying attention to him, just spouting off whatever came to your head, and he was tired of it.

He slammed his hand on the counter, the sound reverberating throughout the apartment. You flinched, hard, but Atsumu didn’t seem to notice. “Can you just shut up for one moment? God, all you do is go on and on nagging on how what I do isn’t enough, I pay the bills here, why isn’t that enough for you? I could care less about what’s going on at your job, I have absolutely no interest in it at all, when will you get that through your fucking skull? I. don’t. care.” By the time he was done his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the counter, and you had tears in your eyes. You sucked in a breath, steeling yourself.

“Ok, I’m going to remove myself from the situation, I’ll be at your brothers, you can come get me when you pull your head out of your ass.” He rolled his eyes as you strode past him, getting your purse from the hook and going to slip on your shoes. “Yeah go ahead, you gonna wet his dick for ‘im too? ‘m sure he’ll love that.” You stiffened for a moment, putting your shoes on before looking at him, tears making your vision blurry.

“Y’know I tell myself that this isn’t like last time, that you’re not him, but at times like this-“ Your voice cracked as a sob bubbled into your throat and you shook your head, turning and heading out the door. Atsumu flinched at your words and the soft click of the door latching, he would’ve preferred to hear it slam.

Your walk to the elevator was blurry but you knew the way by heart after living there for so long. You wiped at your eyes as you pulled out your phone, tapping on the contact before bringing the phone to your ear. It rang once before it picked up, a tired “hello?” coming from the other end. You let out a quiet sob as you loaded the elevator, trying to get the words to come out. Upon hearing you, Osamu spoke again, “(Y/N)? Are you crying? What’s wrong.” You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before speaking, your voice tight. “Hey ‘samu, can, can I come to your place? ‘tsumu and I- we-'' you broke out into another sob, and you could hear Osamu close a door.

“Where are you? I’ll pick you up, I’m just leaving the restaurant I’m close.” After telling him where you were, you stayed on the phone, walking in the direction of the restaurant. Not long you see Osamu’s car pull up, he quickly gets out and looks you over and sighed as he brings you in for a hug. You sob into his jacket for a moment while he rubbed your back gently. He knew about your past as well, and figured it must have been bad for you to leave in tears. He leads you to the car and makes sure you’re strapped in before heading to the drivers side and getting in, double checking your seatbelt before driving towards his apartment.

The drive was short, though to you it felt like it lasted hours. You tried to quiet your sobs, not wanting to bother him. He looked over at you every so often, worry evident in his gaze as he tried to figure out just what his stupid brother did.

After arriving at his apartment, he sat you down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around you and giving you a box of tissues before sitting next to you, gently asking what happened. You try not to cry as you retell the events of the evening, though it got harder and harder as you told him what Atsumu said to you. By the time you were finished you were crying again, and Osamu was furious.

“I-I just don’t understand ‘samu, the things he said, did he really m-mean them? And-and when he slammed his hand on the counter, the look on his face, it, it was like I was back there all over again, like I never left. I-I know he’d never hurt me,” You sobbed out, throat getting tighter as you go on, “But at that moment, all I could think was that he was gonna hit me, and I, I had to leave, and what he said before I left,” You hiccupped and cried into your hands, not able to finish.

Osamu rubbed your back as you cried before getting up to make some tea. While the water was boiling he went into the other room, trying to calm himself down before calling his brother. The line rang three times before it was picked up, a frustrated “what do you want?” coming from the other end. It was enough to dwindle Osamu’s patience into nothing. He tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to distress you further.

“What do I want? Do you know how badly you fucked up? (Y/N) is here crying on my couch right now, do you know what she told me ‘tsumu? She told me she thought you were going to hit her. Are you fucking kidding me? Did you even think before you spoke, because from what she told me, it sounds like you didn’t. How dumb are you, after everything she’s gone through, the first big fight you have you send her running? Over a dinner? Really Atsumu?”

Atsumu groaned on the other line, “Exactly ‘samu, it’s a dinner, I have practice for the game against the Adler’s you know how big that is. She’ll have plenty of dinners for me to go to in the future. I don’t see why she got so upset over it. And she knows I didn’t mean the things I said, I was just frustrated.”

Osamu scoffed into the phone, “Did you even hear what I said, are you hearing yourself? She is the best thing that has happened to you, the least you could do is support her, this is a big deal for her Atsumu, even I know that. Honestly I don’t know why she is still with you after the shit you just pulled, did you hear me? She was scared of you, y’know like that last relationship she had? Where she was sent to the hospital multiple times, she thought she was right back there, that you were just like him. Do you know how bad you have to fuck up for that to happen, after all the counseling she’s done? You know how much trust you just broke? I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to hear from you again, and I’d agree with her. God I have half a mind to tell Ma what you did, You need to sit and stew on what you just lost. And I mean it, I don’t want to see you here tonight, she needs a safe space right now. I’ll let her stay for as long as she wants, but I’m not gonna stop her if she leaves so you better get your fucking head on straight and get on your knees begging for forgiveness you don’t deserve.”

With that Osamu hung up the phone, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose, was his brother really that stupid? He shook his head and headed out of his room, only to open the door to see you standing there, eyes holding an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Is he coming?” Osamu sighed and led you back to the couch before finishing the tea he forgot about. He placed your cup on the end table next to you and took a seat with his own. “No, I told him to stay at your guy’s tonight. You need a safe space right now to calm down and sort your thoughts. You can stay here as long as you’d like, but I don’t want you to feel trapped, you can leave whenever, if you want to go to your folk’s, hell even our Ma’s place, I’ll drive you there. You just need to focus on you right now ya hear me? And if you don’t ever wanna see my ugly brother again, I’ll help you get a new identity.” You giggled slightly at the last part before you took a sip of your tea, shoulders relaxing. You turned to Osamu and smiled.

“Thank you ‘samu, I really appreciate it. I’m a little more calm right now, I think I’ll go home tomorrow, apologize and get us back on track.” You did a little nod as you said it, but Osamu just furrowed his eyebrows. “Apologize? There is nothing you need to apologize for doll, You were completely justified in your frustration, Atsumu is the one who needs to apologize, not you. Don’t settle just so things will go back to normal, because they won’t.” You sighed sadly, he was right and you knew it. You were falling back to old coping tactics. Your therapist would not be happy with you right now.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m still gonna go back, hopefully after we’ve both had some sleep we can work it out.” You smiled again, feeling more like yourself. Osamu nodded in agreement and helped you set up in the guest bedroom before turning in. You sighed as you laid in the bed, not used to sleeping by yourself, but the events from the night took its toll, and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

Back in your apartment, Atsumu was having the opposite problem. He laid in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling, did you actually think he was going to hit you, that he meant the things he said? To him, it didn’t seem like a big deal, he was loud when he was angry, and sometimes said things he didn’t mean, which should be obvious, since you knew how much he loved you…right? He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, looking up the museum you worked at. Honestly he wasn’t really paying attention when you told him about the event, he knew it had something to do with your research, which he knew a little about from the nights you’d info dump your findings to him. His eyes widened when he looked at the upcoming events, when he clicked on the date it was scheduled for he winced.

It really was a big deal, curators from all over the country were coming to hear you give a presentation on your recent fieldwork findings, you’d been at this site for the majority, if not all, of your relationship only now having a big discovery others spent their entire lives chasing. There were going to be donors, curators, archaeologists and other anthropologists from all over Japan and other countries as well. You were right, this was a career changer, no, this was a life changing presentation.

Guilt started to seep into his bones as he thought again about what he had said, how he had brushed you off and then got mad at you for voicing your feelings, something that took months for you to be able to do with him. He thought back to when he slammed his hand on the table, the way you flinched, the look in your eyes right before you left. His stomach felt like it dropped out of his body, chest constricting as the guilt flooded him as he kept thinking back to every expression you made, how you were crying when you left, that you were scared of him. He pushed his palms against his eyes as he groaned, how could he be so horrible to you? Osamu was right, about everything. You were the best thing that’s happened to him, and he broke your trust, trust that took so long to build, over missing a practice. He rolled onto his side, pulling one of your pillows against his chest. He inhaled, the scent of your conditioner still lingering, as he tried to think of how he could possibly make it right.

```

The next morning, after a relaxing shower and breakfast, you were ready. Osamu grabbed his keys, ready to drive you back, when there was a knock at the door. You had a feeling on who it was, so you set down your purse and went to sit on the couch, taking a deep breath. After a few moments Osamu came to the doorway, followed by Atsumu, who stood awkwardly for a moment before Osamu spoke to you.

“I need to be at the restaurant, there’s a key on the counter, if you could lock up if you leave that’d be great. Call me if you need anything.” He turned and left, and when you heard the door close you finally met Atsumu’s gaze, smiling slightly in greeting. Neither of you were sure what to say, but after a minute of silence he comes over and sits on the other end of the couch, obviously trying to gauge your reaction to his proximity.

You sighed through your nose, gaze turned to the floor as you fiddled with your hands, trying to sort out your thoughts. You wanted to just apologize and move on, but you knew you had to talk it out, this wasn’t something you could just pretend didn’t happen. You needed to work through this if you wanted this to work. You bit your lip, thoughts running a mile a minute. You were so deep in thought you didn’t realize Atsumu had moved until you felt his hand rest on your forearm. You jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch and when you looked at Atsumu, who had moved to the place next to you and hovered his hand over you before bringing it back to his lap, guilt evident in his features, eyes raw with emotion.

“(Y/N), I don’t even know where to begin, I fucked everything up and I am so sorry. Sorry for not listening, for brushing you and your achievements off, for making you feel lesser and unimportant, for scaring you, please, you have to know, I would never lay a hand on you, I never meant a single thing I said last night, I was frustrated and let the week get to me, which is no excuse for the way I treated you. I broke your trust, and I’ll spend forever and a month trying to earn it back. You are without a doubt the best thing that has happened to me, and the way I treated you after everything that’s happened, it- it makes me sick. I love you so much, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. But I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, I-I just- I need you to know that I love you, and that I never meant it, I’d never mean it.” His voice cracked at the end, and he wiped his eyes before looking up to meet your gaze. You were crying, biting your lip to keep it in but failing as you took a shuddering breath that turned into a half-sob. His heart broke even more seeing you like this, and he reached out to comfort you before stopping, hand curling back into his chest.

“Can, Can I touch you?” He asked shakily, scared of the answer, shoulders slumping with relief when you nodded and he quickly gathered you into his arms, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight, like if he let you go you’d disappear. You were crying louder now, hands fisted into his sweatshirt. He nuzzled his face into your hair, quietly apologizing over and over, tears starting to fall from his eyes as well, kissing the side of your head.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was about 10 minutes. Your sobs had died down, you were just sniffing occasionally, and Atsumu’s eyes had cleared, no longer obstructed by the water wall of tears. He pulled you away from his chest slightly, cupping your cheeks, wiping at the tear tracks staining your face.

“’M sorry, ‘m so sorry. I’ll say it for the rest of my life darlin’, I love you so much and I am so proud of everything you do. I hope that one day you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t, if you won’t. You mean th’ world t’ me angel, I want nothing more than for you to be happy, for you to feel safe and loved. I promise I will support you better from now on, no matter what. I’ll make good on my promises from all those years ago, I swear.” You nodded at his words, hands coming up to cup his own before one of his moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips met, breath mixing as he looked at you for signs of hesitance, of fear.

“Is this okay?” Instead of verbally confirming you closed the short distance, hands gripping his shoulders as your lips moved against his slowly, taking time to enjoy each other. He pulled away after a few moments before kissing your forehead, hugging you tightly once again. “Let’s go home.” You said quietly into his shirt, squeezing his shoulders before standing on shaky legs. He nodded, getting up after you, lacing your fingers together.

Weeks later~~

You smiled nervously at Atsumu as you rose out of your chair, giving him a quick kiss before heading to the stage. You squinted briefly at the bright lights, exhaling and smoothing out your clothes before smiling at the audience as you introduced yourself. You tried to keep your gaze evenly over the crowd, but your eyes kept finding themselves locked with Atsumu, who grinned brightly and gave a thumbs up whenever you did. Your smile grew, nerves slowly dissipating as you lost yourself in your presentation.

Afterwards you answered a few questions from the crowd, thanking them again before heading back to your table. You shook hands with the host as they walked past to continue to the next topic and thanked your tablemates who congratulated you. You snorted at Tsukishima, who said it was a little boring, like he didn’t have a page of notes from the presentation in front of him.

You turned to your boyfriend, smiling as you laced your fingers together. “Wow babe that was amazing! I don’t know what half those words meant but you did great, I’m so proud of you.” You flushed at his praise, squeezing his hand while you kissed his cheek before turning back to the host, who was announcing the next speaker. You don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t work things out, and frankly you don’t want to think about it, the two of you are slowly building this back to where they were, but this time your relationship is stronger. You’re happier than you’ve ever been, and that’s what matters.

#My writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu x you #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 3 years

Text

Some WIP details I felt like sharing lol

Recall my idea to make an ikemen revolution/alice in wonderland au... just for fun, why don’t I impart some ideas I’ve had brewing since then, hehe (also no worries! You won’t have to play the game prior, just know the basic gist of alice in wonderland)

So it’s going to be a huge series within a series (once I clear out all of my other ones since it’s planned to be freaking huge). I’ll be focusing on one aspect as a time and it will be similar to Infatuation’s format (Two Teasers, Introduction, Chapter 1, Endings) if all goes well those endings will be two parts each. I plan on releasing character profiles as I go at them (as in I’ll be focusing on one faction at a time, which will make more sense as I continue this post)

Here’s how the outline looks so far, keep in mind I’ve had this in the works for nearly a year and a half now (I should fish out the original post from my old blog hehe), and obviously I’m gonna keep what they are a secret, but you’re lucky to take guesses. As you can see, this is a big one!

I’ll probably amend these in the future, but as of today these are what I have planned to be included in the separate character profiles as I write them, hehe

Tentative Character Details under the cut! Including NCT127/WayV (Yet to Decide), ATEEZ, and Tomorrow x Together

Alice (Y/N) - It was through pure curiosity and a bit of clumsiness that you fell into Wonderland, you just wanted to return the poor boy’s watch, and now here you were in the middle of a five hundred year long war and with no hope of going home until the next full moon when the portal to the real world opens once more, but it would seem that you were not the first to stumble into this world; however, it is you who has to face the repercussions of the previous Alice’s mistakes.

The Red Army (NCT 127 or WayV, depends on how I’m feeling) - Regal in nature, traditional and reliant on birthright to a fault, and with an unseen corruption that only the bigger three know of.

The King of Hearts (Taeyong/Kun) - The leader who calls the shots, he leads with a Machiavellian mindset, but seems to know more than he lets on.

The Queen of Hearts (Doyoung/Ten) - Holding more power than most, he is considered the voice of reason who is in a league of his own.

The Jack of Hearts (Jungwoo/Xiaojun) - There are some jobs that require more blood to be spilled than what would be necessary for the King or Queen, and he is obligated to oblige.

The Ace of Hearts (Haechan/Yangyang) - Leader of Special Operations, he is skilled in more ways than any could expect, and he very often uses that to his advantage.

The 10 of Hearts (Johnny/Lucas) - There’s always a need for a middleman, his job is to be the first on the war front, they number suits are disposable, and no one knows that more than he.

The 9 of Hearts (Taeil/Hendery) - With a tendency to be overseen, he is in charge of espionage operations, and if he knew what was best for him, he would be sure to never be seen.

The 8 of Hearts (Jaehyun) - Supposedly a respected do good, a boy scout, if you will, but even he knows that there are fine print details that come with the job.

The 7 of Hearts (Winwin) - They say seven is a lucky number, but in a cursed position of the 7 of hearts, it becomes apparent how horrifically deadly this position is

The 4 of Hearts (Yuta) - The lower ranks champion more freedom than the higher, and that is seen through this soldier, who seems to be closer to the citizens of Red territory

The 2 of Hearts (Mark) - There’s always one soldier who is thrown the jobs the others don’t want to do, and he’s happy to oblige regardless of the job, official or not.

The Black Army (ATEEZ) - Champions honor, loyalty built through bond rather than blood, and seemingly being controlled by a hand invisible.

The King of Spades (Hongjoong) - No one dares challenge the king, he earned his position by beating the previous one and has since held the title, he’s smart, and that’s what makes him dangerous

The Queen of Spades (Seonghwa) - Every group requires a strategizer, one that often stays behind the scenes to plan out attacks and stay in the safety of the compound should anything happen, and he’s happy to play this part.

The Jack of Spades (Mingi) - Talented in all aspects, he is truly a jack of all trades, he has proven to be resourceful when it came down to it and is a quick thinker on and off the field

The Ace of Spades (San) - The Ace remains the leader of Special Ops, he takes on the jobs that many can’t handle and does so flawlessly, he is notorious throughout Wonderland, but not necessarily for his military prowess.

The 8 of Spades (Jongho) - Being on the deck is a hard enough feat in the Black Army, but of all of the numbers, he happens to be one that has held his position rather long despite appearances.

The 6 of Spades (Wooyoung) - The most important job of an army is that to its people, and in that regard he is rather close to the citizens of the Black Territory and is often found fulfilling odd jobs for them, much to a certain face suit’s disappointment.

The 5 of Spades (Yeosang) - For every officer there are about ten residents in Black Territory, why have one officer of the people when you can have two?

The 4 of Spades (Yunho) - Clumsy in nature and seemingly go-with-the-flow, many people would assume 4 to be an easy position to take, but he is rather adamant on keeping his position for an unknown motive.

Neutral (TXT) - Neutral through choice or through banishment, with no allegiance to either army they know more of what is truly behind the scenes.

The White Rabbit (Taehyun) - The reason you fell into Wonderland in the first place. Always in a rush, this neutral-by-choice records keeper is present at each and every meeting between the two Armies

The Cheshire Cat (Yeonjun) - Intentions unknown, and he’d like to keep it that way. He’s charming in his own way, so long as you stay in your lane.

The Joker (Soobin) - Intentions unknown. Neutral through banishment, he stays recluse in the woods, but should you seek who he is, you will find that it’s a rather easy feat with all of his wanted posters plastered throughout Wonderland

The Mad Hatter (Beomgyu) - Cursed with madness, the Mad Hatter finds that with each or his inventions he allows for a miracle to occur somewhere in cradle at the expense of an undefined something of his each time.

The Dormouse (Kai) - Neutral by choice, he is often the messenger between both territories and is regarded as a neutral party in conjunction with the White Rabbit. However, there are rumors of him wandering into the forest from time to time.

#crys talks #wip

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

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Figure of Speech

Summary: Killian has been in love with Emma Swan ever since he was eleven and she was his babysitter. The last time he saw her was the day he kissed her, thinking they were having a special moment… right before she headed off to college with her boyfriend.

When their paths cross years later, he’s just happy she remembers him—because while he’s a talented, free-spirited journalist who takes risks and has a knack for finding trouble, Emma is an accomplished and sophisticated politician who’s planning to run for President of the United States.

Sensing Killian Jones—the boy who once knew her and supported her long before she entered the soul-sucking world of politics—is the key to unlocking a part of herself that’s been dormant for so long, she hires him as her speechwriter. As she travels the world to launch her 2020 presidential campaign, he is by her side, helping Emma find her voice again.

The attraction between them sizzles, but when they eventually give into it, will their relationship withstand the demands of the election and scrutiny of the public?

A/N: Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for beta reading and @onceuponaprincessworld for your help with this! Thank you @captainswanmoviemarathon for starting the event and everyone on discord for all your help!

Before you read, there are a few things I want to clarify.

First off, this story is heavily based on the movie, Long Shot, for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon, with some elements of OUAT weaved in. What I’m referring to mainly is that the president in this fic is in no way based on President Trump. In other words, I am not using this fic to bash the current U.S. president in any shape or form, or any other real-life president. So if you plan on going into this with that mindset, I beg you to hit the back button right now. This story in no way reflects my opinions or views, I mainly stuck to the plot of the movie.

Secondly, I hope that I have made it perfectly clear in the beginning scene of this chapter that Killian is not actually a white supremacist, he is only going undercover to get his story. Nor is he Jewish like Fred Flarsky is in the movie. He’s the Killian we all know and love. So please don’t send me hate messages accusing me of either being a racist or writing Killian as one. I was very torn whether to include this scene or not but I feel it is relevant to the plot and shows Killian’s character in this story as very passionate about what he believes in and is a big risktaker when getting his point across, so I decided to keep it.

Third of all, I know some of you are sick of hearing about politics, especially since the U.S. election is so close. But this is not a political movie, it’s a romance. There is of course some talk of politics, but I’ve tried my best to keep it to a minimum. So if you’re worried about that, please don’t be. The movie genre is a romantic comedy.

Writing this fic was a huge wake-up call for me because it’s the first one in a while that I’m not proud of, for lack of a better word, because I have not been able to spend much time on it. I have so many wips in my docs it’s not even funny and I think that has really impacted how this chapter turned out. But because of this fic, I decided to take some time and work on finishing some of my wips before posting them, with the exception of this one because today is my posting date.

With that said, because I’ve been pushing myself to finish my wips, I finished writing my first original novel after working on it for two years, and I will be publishing it soon. So be sure to look out for Follow My Lead, a romance about a former ballerina and a gym owner.

Okay, now I am done with my rant, so please enjoy!

AO3 FF.N

Rated: M

2018

“So you guys are fairly active on social media, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaxon answers absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the cue ball as he lines up the shot.

“How many times a day would you say you Tweet on average?”

Jaxon taps the ball, sends it into its pocket, and high-fives Marcus, ignoring the question.

“Hey Rogers, ready to get a Swastika tattoo?!” Richard calls from the other room as the tattoo artist is finishing up with him.

“No, that’s okay, I’m cool,” Killian replies nonchalantly through the large lump in his throat, glad his British accent didn’t leak out as he takes his turn.

“Oh, come on, man, we’ve all got ‘em!”

Killian gulps and looks around the room, all the members pulling up their shirts to show their tattoos on the left side of their chest. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he can sense Jaxon is already suspicious of his motives. He forces a small smile, pointing to himself with his free hand as he holds up the cue stick in the other one. “You want me to get a swastika tattoo?”

“Yeah!” the group chants in unison.

“Then I’ll get a swastika tattoo,” he agrees submissively, hoping the anxiety he feels isn’t clear in his voice. He removes his leather jacket, or rather the jacket he borrowed from Victor, depositing it in a chair before he walks into the adjacent room where the tattoo artist is waiting for him. He sits in the parlor chair, his stomach twisted in knots as he chooses his left bicep for the tattoo and cringes at the thought of getting it. He’s never gotten a tattoo before, and not only is he afraid of needles, but his beliefs don’t at all resemble anything a swastika symbol resembles. Tattoos are removable, though, right?

When the needle pierces his skin, he pinches his eyelids shut and yelps, “Blo-ooooody he-eeeell!” He realizes his mistake immediately when the words screech out in his thick, British accent. Plus, bloody hell isn’t exactly an American phrase.

He’s praying no one noticed, because if they did, they would know he’s lying about who he claims to be, but when he flips his eyelids open, everyone’s staring at him.

Fuck.

Jaxon, the leader of the group, enters the room with Killian’s jacket in one hand and wallet in the other, raising it for everyone to see Killian’s driver’s license. His heart flitters with panic. “Look at this. He’s been lying to us. His name isn’t John Rogers,” Jaxon announces angrily. Marcus appears next to him, holding up his laptop. On the screen is the Storybrooke Advocate website with Killian’s profile pic on the page. “It’s Killian Jones. He works for the Storybrooke Advocate! He’s a fucking journalist!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I can explain!” Killian pleads, raising his hands in surrender.

The members circle him like sharks, and everything becomes a blur as they yank him from the chair and slam him against a table.

“What are you doing, trying to fucking embarrass us, huh?!” Jaxon screams at him. “Who sent you?!”

“No one sent me!” Killian claims adamantly, fear and pain crippling him as he tries to think his way out of this. “I was just…”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marcus reaches into Killian’s jeans pocket as the others hold him down, and pulls out his phone. Which is currently recording everything. “He’s been recording us this entire time!”

Jaxon’s face is red with anger, steam practically emitting from his ears as he grits his teeth and fists Killian’s shirt in a vice-like grip, pulling him so close that Killian smells his wretched breath. “You infiltrated our group! You’re gonna fucking die!”

They say your life flashes before your eyes during your very last moments. They say it’s like reliving every moment that’s ever stuck with you—every moment that’s ever made an impression on you. Killian always thought when he was finally shuffled off to sleep with the fishes, his life would appear in sequence or at least in random order, featuring all the people who have played a vital role in his life—his parents, his brother, his best friend—but he never thought one person would stick in his mind. He never thought all the images flashing before his eyes would be of one person and one person only.

The woman he’s been in love with since he was eleven years old.

Killian remembers when he first fell in love with her like it were yesterday. Or at least an eleven-year-old boy’s version of love. He remembers the song, It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday by Boyz II Men, was playing on the boombox. He remembers what day it was, what he was wearing and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He remembers thinking about one of his favorite movies, The Sandlot, how Squints tricked the lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, into kissing him and how she eventually married him even though she was older and way out of his league.

Back then, a three or four year age gap seemed like a huge deal, but maybe because he was so young and she was… well she was so grown up and mature and very beautiful for her age. Not Wendy Peffercorn. Well, he supposes Wendy was too, but Killian had his real-life version of the movie character. His version of her was also blonde. She may not have been a lifeguard, but she was his next-door neighbor and also his babysitter ever since his brother left to join the Navy. Killian’s bedroom had an excellent view of her backyard and he would occasionally watch her sunbathing by the pool as she listened to music on her headphones or read a book in her bikini. Not only did she have a beautiful body, but she was wicked smart. She was passionate about the environment and the things she cared about. She was super nice to him—which went a long way with him—and had a ridiculously cute, dimpled smile. She was perfect. An angel.

Maybe that’s why, right before his death, she’s the only one he sees.

Before he met her, he never considered kissing a girl, or even liking one for that matter. He thought girls were gross and had cooties. But Emma was no girl. Not even at fifteen. She was a woman.

Emma Swan was his Wendy Peffercorn.

She still is. Even as he’s being threatened by a group of angry white supremacists.

She’s all he sees.

“Did you know that every year, the school throws away over five hundred tons of recyclable garbage? And no one cares!”

“Aye, it’s rubbish. But how do you get muppets to care about stuff they don’t care about?”

Emma shrugs. “They’ll just…” She bites her bottom lip, hesitance etching her features, “they’ll just c-care because it’s the right thing to care about.” She may not have all the answers, but she’s the most inspiring person he knows.

He smiles and rests one elbow on the counter, his chin perched in his hand as he admires her passion for the environment. He admires how beautiful she is in simply a snug pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a picture of a buttercup on the front. He admires her waist-length, golden hair, how it glows radiantly in the sunlight cascading through the kitchen window and how it swishes from side to side when she turns around to grab a mitt and pull the pizza out of the oven. Delicious aromas of crisp, baked bread, melted mozzarella cheese and sweet tomato sauce waft through the kitchen, making his stomach growl. Licking his lips, he jumps off the stool and heads over to grab a slice from the pan.

She gently swats his hand away. “Don’t touch, kid, you’ll burn yourself. Let it cool, first.”

He frowns as he returns to his seat. He hates it when she calls him that. He doesn’t want her to think of him as a kid; he’s almost a teenager! Heeding her warning, he does his best to resist the temptation of getting up again and grabbing a slice, even though the gooey, golden cheese, colorful toppings and toasted crust look amazing. Instead, he places the hand she’d touched on his cheek. He never wants to wash his hand or his cheek ever again.

Emma continues the speech she’d prepared for her Student Council election. She’s running for president, and he is not only her biggest supporter, but he also came up with her campaign slogan, ‘Stay calm and vote for Swan’. He was quite proud of himself when she actually thought it was clever enough to use.

“I would definitely vote for you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killy,” she says, ruffling a hand through his hair.

Now that’s a better nickname. Though he hates when his brother calls him Killy, he never minds when Emma does.

Once the pizza is cool enough to eat, Emma returns to the oven, using a pizza cutter on the pie. She plates two big slices, one for each of them, and brings them to the counter, sitting next to him. They eat their pizza in silence at first, besides the yummy food noises they make.

“Thanks for helping me. I know it’s probably boring hearing my speech over and over again.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all,” he mumbles through a mouth full of pizza. “I’m just happy to help,” he smiles. His hand pauses midair, still holding his half-eaten slice of pizza as he locks eyes with his beautiful babysitter. He wonders if she feels the same way he does, and normally he wouldn’t think it was possible, but the way she’s looking at him right now makes him rethink everything.

She reaches out to him, and he closes his eyes as she caresses his cheek. His heart slams against his chest and he loses all the air from his lungs. And that’s when he knows he’s totally and completely in love. Her hand feels so wonderfully warm, he wants to spend the rest of his life feeling her touch and immediately gets a chill when she pulls her hand away.

“All better.”

His eyes flip open to see Emma wiping her hand with a napkin. She looks up at him and smiles. “You had some sauce on your face.”

He chuckles on the outside, but internally he’s berating himself for being foolish enough to think someone like Emma Swan could possibly like him. She’s way too good for him.

Especially when he’s thirteen and has to wear glasses. As if hitting puberty isn’t bad enough, he also has to sport the most hideous pair of thick-framed glasses. By then, his father said he was too old to have a babysitter, so he didn’t get to see Emma as much. He mowed the Swans’ lawn occasionally, but she was gone most of the time with extracurricular activities and prepping for college. He convinced himself she could never be into someone like him. Someone who was nerdy and awkward and four years her junior.

Until one day when he’s fourteen and she’s eighteen.

She’s leaving for college and he’s been in his room sulking while listening to It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye for two weeks, not looking forward to her departure. He’s afraid he’ll never see her again. But he’s also happy for her. She’s off to better and greater things, greener pastures as they say. She’s going to Harvard and leaving him in the dust.

He’s on the front porch, sitting on the top step, his chin in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees as he watches Emma and her parents packing up her things. He wants to offer his assistance, but this seems like a very important bonding moment for the three of them and he doesn’t wish to interrupt. He can tell Mr. and Mrs. Swan are both incredibly sad but also very proud of their daughter, and there are lots of hugs and tears by the time the car is packed. Then Emma says something to her parents and they wave at Killian. He smiles and waves back before they head inside.

Emma walks over to him, and he immediately stands up, making his way down the remaining steps.

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling at him.

“Hey,” he parrots, offering a small smile. “So, you’re all packed?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving soon.”

Nodding nervously, he scratches behind his ear as he looks away, not sure what to say.

“Look, I’m not a goodbye person, but — ”

“Let’s not say goodbye then,” he suggests and offers his hand. But instead of shaking it, she throws her arms around him. Killian’s stunned, and can’t even move at first, completely paralyzed in her embrace.

Emma’s hugging him.

He slowly molds into her body, his arms wrapping around her waist as she tightens her hold. Her hair smells like strawberries and cream as he buries his face there. He never wants to let her go.

“I’ll miss you, Killian,” she whispers in his ear.

His heart does a little somersault, and he whispers, “Not a day will go by when I won’t think of you.”

He feels her smile against his neck. “Good.”

That one simple word does something to him and he grins into her hair, holding her tighter.

She breaks the hug long before he’s ready, and he’s still awestruck as she leans in to kiss him.

Bloody hell.

Emma Swan leans in for a kiss as he springs forward to meet her halfway. Their lips finally connect like they had so many times in his dreams, but he doesn’t fail to miss how surprised she is when a gasp escapes against his mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but he knows he probably should after realizing she was actually going for his cheek. But her lips are so soft and warm and taste like cinnamon and cocoa, and he swears they move ever so slightly against his. He still has his arms around her, pressing her to him, and her center suddenly moves away from him. Forcing himself to break the kiss, he looks down and notices the very prominent and very hard erection tenting his pants.

Fuck.

His cheeks are on fire as he looks up, apology and embarrassment flushing his face. He’s expecting her to either slap him or storm away and never look back, but she stares down at his groin, her mouth agape.

“Bloody hell, I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” Emma squeaks as her eyes snap up to his.

Just then, a ‘69 Ford Mustang pulls up in front of Emma’s house, the music booming through the speakers at an obnoxious volume.

He panics when Emma’s boyfriend gets out of the car and makes his way over to them. Killian forgot Neal was riding with Emma to Harvard, where he was certainly not attending. Neal could only get into a community college.

Killian quickly pulls off the backward baseball cap from his head and uses it to cover his obvious boner.

“Hey, babe, ready to go?”

She nods and looks at Killian, a small smile tilting her lips.

“Bye, four-eyes,” Neal taunts with a condescending sneer as he wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

Really?

Killian bites his tongue as he rolls his eyes. That nickname really gets old. Can’t he think of something more original?

“Don’t call him that,” Emma scolds her boyfriend, swatting his chest. “He has a name.”

“Sorry, I mean Killian,” he says insincerely before turning around and pulling Emma with him.

As Killian watches them walk away, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with his finger, he would give anything to be the one with his arm around Emma, the one leaving with her instead of being the one she leaves. She cranes her neck to look at him as she walks away. He swears she’s looking at him longingly but he’s sure he’s only imagining it. She’s still gazing at him until her parents emerge from the house. Neal doesn’t even have the courtesy to open the door to her parents’ station wagon for her, and instead hurries into the back seat.

Arsehole, Killian thinks bitterly as he watches the vehicle pull away from the curb. Emma stares at him through the passenger’s window, and their eyes connect. He flashes one last smile and waves. She smiles back at him and presses her palm to the window before she disappears down the road and out of his life, leaving a permanent gaping hole in his heart.

He always thought not being able to see Emma anymore was the scariest thing he’s ever experienced. But that was before he was inked with part of a swastika tattoo so his cover wouldn’t be blown. That was before he fell from a two-story building and landed in a dumpster. Luckily the trash bags cushioned his fall and didn’t contain any glass or other sharp objects. He hadn’t really thought that through when he jumped. But then again, he didn’t really have time to do anything but run for his life while Marcus and Jaxon were busy trying to figure out how to stop Killian’s phone from recording. Killian took advantage of the distraction and plucked the phone from their hands, sprinting for the nearby window.

His phone.

Killian quickly lifts his hand to see that not only is his phone still in his hand but it’s still intact. He climbs out of the dumpster, his entire body sore, but he lands on his feet. He’d left his leather jacket up there, but it wasn’t even his. Killian doesn’t wear leather jackets, he’s content with his hoodies. He borrowed the jacket from his best friend, Victor. He’ll be pissed, but oh well, Killian will buy him a new one.

Three of the members are poking their heads out the window and Killian looks up at them, throwing the hand that’s still holding his phone in the air. He feels like Bennie in The Sandlot when he finally gets the baseball from the beast and hurdles the fence, still holding onto the ball. The difference is the beast chased Bennie down. The difference is the beast in the movie was not actually a beast at all. He can’t say the same about those white supremacists, though.

“We trusted you, man!” Richard calls out. He’s the one Killian had contacted through one of their social media groups.

“Sorry, mate,” he says in his British accent, his words lacking any sort of apology as he spins around. “Peace!” he calls behind him trying to sound as American as he can, and instead of saluting the members with two fingers, which is not a peace sign for Brits, he flips them the bird as he goes.

∞∞∞

“Tonight on Walsh News, we take an in-depth look at Emma Swan, a Rhodes Scholar, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a protégé of President Gold who tapped Swan two years ago to be the youngest Secretary of State in the history of this nation.”

As sore as Killian is from that jump out of a two-story window and as much as he hates that arsehole, Walsh, and everything the media mongrel represents, he lifts his eyes from his MacBook. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and manages a small smile when he sees Emma on the television screen. He knows what he’d done to write his article and expose the White Power group was worth it. He may have lost faith in humanity long ago, but Emma’s passion and ambition and hope have always stuck with him. He wants to believe the support he’d always shown her when they were young has always stuck with her too, but he doubts it. She doesn’t need his support. She never did. She was never a helpless duckling, and even after she lost the student council election to August Booth because of his stupid two prom platform, her wounds healed and she eventually spread her wings and soared high in the sky, leaving Storybooke in the dust.

As Killian gazes at her wistfully at the screen, he sees the elegant swan he always knew she’d become. While everyone he knows had hopes and dreams they gave up on long ago, Emma is the one person who made hers come true. Well, not quite all of them. She always talked about saving the planet, but he knows her work isn’t nearly finished. She’s only thirty-seven, and even though they haven’t spoken to one another since the day he watched her ride away in her parents’ 1987 Pontiac Safari Station Wagon, he still believes in her. He’ll always believe in her.

∞∞∞

Emma sucks in a deep breath as she twists the knob and opens the thick, wooden door, entering the Oval Office with a little bit of forced enthusiasm. President Gold had been vague over the phone about what he’d wished to discuss with her, but his tone of voice indicated it might be something big. “Good morning Mr. President,” she greets with the smile she had practiced in her bedroom mirror repeatedly that morning.

“Hello, Ms. Swan.” He rises from his chair and rounds the desk, gesturing to one of the couches. “Please, have a seat.”

She sits down and crosses her legs, folding her hands in her lap as he sits on the couch across from her and rests his elbows on his knees. “Ms. Swan…”

“Yes, sir?”

He blows out a long breath as if whatever he’s about to tell her has been weighing on his mind for quite some time. “I will not be seeking re-election.”

Emma’s sure the awestruck expression on her face doesn’t even come close to how surprised she actually is. “Really?” Did she hear him correctly?

He nods, clapping his hands together. “Look, I know how absurd it sounds seeing as I’m only halfway through my first term—”

“And you’re incredibly popular, sir.” But she knows most of his popularity stems from being a television star before he took office. He hosted the popular game show, Let’s Strike a Deal.

“And I’m going to use that popularity to transition into something more prestigious than the presidency. I wanna make it in the movies.”

Emma blinks, not believing what she’s hearing. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to process this. “Yoooouuuu… want to leave… the presidency… to be a movie star?”

“I know it’s tough to make the leap from television to film, but I think I’m going to give it a shot.”

After the initial shock washes over her, she sees this as an opportunity. She had planned on running for president in 2024, but with Gold leaving office at the end of his first term, perhaps she can use this to her advantage. And she knows just how to go about it. Gold may be good at convincing people—he is an actor after all—but Emma not only has far more education than him, her extensive political background has helped her greatly improve her cajolery tactics over the years. After she lost the Student Council election to August Booth in high school, she’s learned that in order to get ahead, sometimes you have to use a little sleight of hand to get there—give the people what they want, so to speak. Or, in this case, help Gold realize just how legendary his presidency could be.

“Mr. President, have you given any consideration as to whom you might endorse? I’m sure you’re probably thinking of Yang or Crowley. Sound choices,” she nods and purses her lips, averting her gaze, a look of contemplation on her face. “It’s so strange because I was considering a run in 2024, and I can’t stop wondering what…” she looks at Gold again, “what it would do for your legacy to endorse the first female president. I mean, wow. ” The word is breathy, almost a whisper. “Now that’s a legacy.”

Gold presses his joined hands to his lips and has a thoughtful expression embedded in his features, but she can’t discern what he’s thinking.

She looks at the floor between them while he ponders her words.

“Emma?” he finally says after a moment.

“Hmm?” She reverts her eyes to him.

“I would like to endorse you to be the next President of the United States.”

Her entire body is thrumming with excitement and her stomach is full of butterflies; she doesn’t even care he said it like it was his idea. She’ll even give him credit for it. Besides, trying to convince him otherwise would be like trying to teach a fish how to bark. She closes her eyes and refrains from jumping up and down on the couch. She opens her eyes again, trying to hide the excitement in her voice but fails, her tone coming out unusually high pitched. “I mean, if you think that’s a good idea, sir, I trust you completely. I’d be… I’d be honored.”

He reclines back, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll be pulling for Team Emma. Because you’ve been a great secretary.”

“Of State,” she adds.

“Whatever. You’ve done it well, Dearie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So stay focused. Don’t make any major screw-ups. Don’t kill anyone. That’s probably not a problem for you. I don’t know what you’re into. Whatever. And before you know it…” He rises from the couch and hums the US Presidential Anthem.

“I like the sound of that,” Emma says with a jubilant smile as she stands up.

“Hey here she comes, it’s the first lady president,” he chants.

“Thank you, sir.” She heads for the door, Gold following behind her still singing.

“Who can believe she is actually a woman. She’s got a big brain and a couple other assets.”

Emma opens the door and walks through, not even giving another thought to how incredibly sexist Gold is being. She’s floating high on a cloud as she sashays proudly down the hall and raises a subtle victory fist in the air, whispering to herself, “Yessss!”

∞∞∞

“You’re gonna love this,” Killian raves as he hands the piece to his boss. “I almost died for this.”

Sidney lowers the mug from his lips, swallowing his coffee down. He offers a tightlipped smile as he glances very briefly at the draft before looking up at Killian, a serious expression clouding his face. “Got a second?”

“Of course.”

“Come with me.”

Killian follows Sydney into his office and sits across from him at the desk, setting his satchel on the floor.

Sydney sets down Killian’s article and his coffee mug, folding his hands together on the desk. “I have some great news, Killian. We’ve just been bought by Walsh Media.”

Killian pales and his stomach drops. “What?!” Blood bubbles under his skin at the thought of the wanker buying the Storybrooke Advocate. The thought of him owning something Killian has literally put his blood, sweat and tears into. “Bloody hell. Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ever since he was a kid, he’s dreamed of being an investigative journalist, so he’s been nothing but loyal and dedicated to the company from day one. But in the blink of an eye, Walsh has managed to ruin all that for him.

“Look, I knew you would have a poor reaction—”

“A poor reaction?!”

“Killian, this is a good thing.”

“How?! That wanker represents everything we’ve been fighting against since day one. The whole point of this paper is to fight giant media conglomerates. Now we’ve been bought by a giant media conglomerate.”

“I see the irony,” Sydney nods.

“Irony?!” Killian stands from his chair, his voice growing louder with every word. “He’s going to turn us into a giant propaganda machine! And not the good kind!” Anger pulsates through him as he paces back and forth in front of Sidney’s desk; he’s never been this worked up before in his entire life. And that’s saying something for him.

“Killian, we’re running out of options. We’ve been running as long as we can on ads for weed doctors and escorts.”

Killian stops in his tracks and raises his hands in the air. “Then run penis enlargement ads or something!”

“Come on, Killian,” Sydney admonishes.

He sighs in exasperation, trying to calm down, his voice calmer. “This Walsh guy ran fake stories to get Gold elected.”

Sydney shakes his head and raises a finger at him. “No, they couldn’t prove that.”

“We proved it!” He holds up three fingers. “I wrote three articles about it. You published them!”

Sydney nods, lowering his face into the palm of his hand. “I did.”

“The shite that comes out of this guy’s mouth? He said same-sex marriage caused tornadoes! He represents everything that’s wrong with this country!”

“Killian, it’s done, alright?”

He freezes. “It’s done?!”

“They’re upstairs, finalizing the deal right now.”

Killian presses the pads of his fingers to his temples and turns away from his boss as he tries to process this.

Sydney stands and rounds his desk, sitting on the edge, pleading with him. “Look, we have to cut two-thirds of our staff.”

Killian turns around, devastation in his features. “Two-thirds?”

“Yes. But we want to keep you on. They want to keep you on. It’s just,” he blows out a hesitant breath, “you just have to tone it down a little bit.”

Killian furrows his brows in bewilderment. “I don’t know how I can tone things down any more than I’m toning them down, mate,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Okay look, Killian, you’re a brilliant writer…”

“Thank you.”

“You’re funny, you take risks, you connect with people…”

Killian’s brows pinch in suspicion. “Why am I sensing there’s a big but coming?”

“You have a distinct, authentic voice… but… ”

“And there it is…” he sighs.

“But, sometimes you’re a little too much.”

Killian is taken aback. “I don’t think I am too much. I actually think I’m the perfect portion,” he says defensively.

“Look, you have your job, so focus on that and just toe the line a little bit.”

Killian is enraged. Toe the line a little bit?! He’s not toeing any lines. “I quit.”

Sydney’s face twists with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Oh, come on, Killian…”

“You should quit, too. Everyone should bloody well quit.”

“No, I’m not quitting, I need my job.”

“I need my job too. I’m broke. But I can’t work for that tosser.”

Sydney sighs. “At least let me fire you so you can collect unemployment.”

Killian slices a hand through the air over his chest. “No bloody way! I want nothing from him. Besides, I want him to know I quit.”

“He’ll never know it, he’s never heard of you. You’re going to destroy your life to spite a guy who’s never heard of you?”

“Yes! You said it best! That’s exactly what I’m doing. Fuck this.” Killian grabs his satchel and walks out of Sydney’s office, closing the door behind him, announcing to all his former coworkers, “Journalism died today, people!”

∞∞∞

“So the headline is, you’re in great shape,” Mary Margaret, the polling team manager, points out as she displays the next presentation slide.

Emma’s sitting at the meeting table between her Chief of Staff, Regina Mills, and Deputy Chief of Staff, Robin Locksley, trying to follow along with the presentation, but it’s difficult for Emma to focus when her stomach is full of butterflies. She still can’t believe she persuaded Gold to endorse her. Her head is spinning.

“Ninety-two percent, that’s good,” Regina comments.

“It’s very good,” Mary Margaret agrees exuberantly and moves on to the next slide, which shows Emma’s personality traits and how they were ranked. “Your sense of humor is eighty-two, which is solid.” Mary Margaret cocks her head to the side, as though she has to rethink that assessment. “It’s solid, but we wouldn’t mind seeing that number go up a few points… or more.”

Regina leans in to speak to Emma as she takes notes. “I’ll get some writing samples from some funny speechwriters.”

Emma sets her pen down and smiles. “Thanks, Regina.” She rests her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together as she reverts her attention to Mary Margaret and says, “But I’m really interested in knowing how people feel about my accomplishments.”

“Right, so we don’t drill down on specific policies, and that’s only because people don’t seem to care.”

Well, that’s a blow to the gut.

“With that said, if you could broker a deal that gets you out there talking about something you feel strongly about, that would be really great.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” Emma says enthusiastically, sitting on the edge of her chair. “We’ve been looking for an opening to start a conversation about the environment.”

“That sounds great,” Mary Margaret says with a grin, but Emma’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic and trying to hold back a laugh, or if she’s being sincere. “Now, if I may, onto your romantic life…” The brunette shows a photo of Emma and Graham Humbert smiling for the camera.

Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she rests her chin in her palm. She doesn’t have a romantic life. One make-out session with a world leader she barely knows doesn’t constitute a romance.

However, the way Mary Margaret gushes as she looks at the couple in the photo, one would think they were actually a couple. “Remember the stir online when you and the Canadian Prime Minister were seated next to each other at the Global Business Forum?”

Emma nods, wishing she were taking a nap right now. She doesn’t care about improving her personality traits or starting a romance that will raise her numbers and appease the public. Although she is quite proud of her two highest scores, elegance and charisma, both ranked at over ninety-five percent.

“A relationship like that,” Mary Margaret points to the photo of Emma and Graham, “could push you into the high nineties.”

“High nineties? Wow,” Regina murmurs to herself, making note of it.

“That brings us to…” Mary Margaret switches to the next slide, showing Emma’s wave.

She knits her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong with my wave?”

“That kind of elbow movement is um…” Mary Margaret purses her lips as though she’s trying to figure out how to put it delicately, but then gives up, “well, it stresses people out.”

“You know what? It’s just an area of improvement,” Robin assures Emma after sensing the offended tone in her voice.

She supposes the movement in her elbow is a bit too much. It makes her look like a robot actually. “Fine, I’ll work on the wave.”

∞∞∞

“I’m not going to a fancy rich person party,” Killian declares after Victor proposed going to the World Wildlife Fund benefit in Philly tonight. Killian had shared the details with Victor and now they’re walking down Main Street discussing their plans for the evening. But Killian thought Vic was trying to make him feel better. Going to a fancy, rich person party will only remind Killian how rich he is not. He had something else in mind, something involving the closest bar and lots and lots of rum.

“Oh, come on, Jones. Don’t be so judgemental. There will be free booze and pandas and shit. People love pandas and shit.”

Killian shakes his head. “I just lost my job, I’m not really in the mood to mingle.”

“Fine, just sit at home and do nothing. Don’t hang out with your best friend and Boyz II Men.”

Killian’s ears perk up and he stops in his tracks. “Boyz II Men will be there?”

Victor stops walking and turns around, nodding. “Yep. They’re bringing their timeless blend of R&B and hip hop to the party. The fancy rich party doesn’t sound so bad after all, now does it?”

Not at all. He used to listen to Boyz II Men and other popular musicians in the nineties. But mostly Boyz II Men because it’s what he and Emma would listen to when she was over at his house babysitting him. He didn’t know Victor then; they met in college before Victor went off to medical school, but they have similar tastes in music. Which is how Victor knew exactly how to persuade Killian into going to a fancy, rich person party. “Okay, I’m in, mate.”

“That’s the spirit!” Victor pats Killian on the shoulder, and they walk again as Victor sings Motownphilly.

∞∞∞

“I’m starving. Why didn’t you power bar me?” Emma asks Robin as they make their way down the staircase, Regina and her Secret Service agents following behind them.

The Grand Room glitters like something out of a fairy tale, all candlelight and crystal chandeliers and gilt and sophisticated shine. The attendees glitter, the women dripping in diamonds and other precious stones and the men donning suits and black ties.

“I tried to, but you pushed my hand away,” Robin chuckles.

“Hopefully they don’t have skewered foods. I can’t eat skewered foods gracefully; I always look like a fucking cavewoman.”

“And there are cameras everywhere.” Regina points at a dutiful photographer who’s unobtrusively circling the perimeter of the room, taking pictures of as many of the guests as he can. “That would hurt your elegance score.”

“That’s my best score.”

When they reach the buffet table, Emma’s relieved to find that not all the food is on skewers. But even so, she’s so hungry, she may still look like a cavewoman trying to stuff as much food into her mouth as she can. “Cover me?”

“Of course.”

Regina and Robin both stand behind her like walls as Emma makes her first selection, grabbing a saucy meatball on a toothpick and bringing it to her mouth, being careful not to drip any sauce on her black dress.

“Oh my god, these meatballs are really good,” Emma mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Graham Humbert is approaching,” Regina warns her. “He’s about nine feet away.”

“Shit,” Emma whispers and shoves another meatball into her mouth before wiping her lips and chin with a napkin. After swallowing it down and discarding the napkin, she spins around, offering a bright smile.

When Graham approaches her, giving her a once over, Regina and Robin disperse.

“Graham… how are you?”

“Good evening.” His lips twitch in a pleased smile as he takes Emma’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I am so sorry I missed you at the White House a few weeks ago,” he says in his thick, Irish brogue. He was born in Canada, but his parents are originally from Ireland, so naturally, he took on their Irish accent.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Emma waves off his apology with a flick of her hand. “Maybe next time?”

“Well, I—”

“If I may?” the photographer interrupts, holding up his camera.

“Aye, of course,” Graham turns toward him, and Emma relents, remembering what Mary Margaret said about how being seen with Graham would raise her score. She supposes if she’s going to be running for president, she must endure some things she may not like, in order to appease the public. Besides, it’s not like Graham is bad looking; in fact, he’s rather handsome with his curly brown hair and grey-blue eyes. But her hectic schedule doesn’t allow time for a romantic relationship.

Graham wraps his arm around her as she places a tentative hand on his back. The camera flashes a few times as Emma and Graham hold their smiles.

“One more,” Graham says, just as Emma’s about to pull away.

A few more successive shots are taken before Graham thanks the photographer and they break their pose, turning toward each other.

He inches closer, speaking intimately in her ear. “What do you say we get out of here? Grab a drink somewhere a bit more… private?”

The music changes from something soft and elegant to something more familiar. Very familiar actually.

Motownphilly.

Emma looks over Graham’s shoulder and her eyes light up when she sees Boyz II Men on stage. “Yeeeessss!”

When Regina told her about the World Wildlife Fund benefit, she failed to mention Boyz II Men would be performing.

“Yeah?” Graham asks, a big smile spreading across his lips.

While he’s thinking she was saying yes to his invitation, Emma had forgotten his presence as soon as she heard the music. Not that she would’ve accepted his invitation anyway. But now she sees this as an opportunity to avoid the question altogether. “Oh my God!” Emma scurries over to the crowd that’s gathering around the entertainers of the evening.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright. Philly, make some noise. Make some noise!”

The crowd whistles and cheers, and Emma is taken back to when she was a kid again. She was ten when this song came out—when she bought their CD—and listened to it constantly throughout her teen years.

Graham joins her on the dance floor as she moves to the music, not even caring about her elegance score. She literally hasn’t danced like this since high school, but she feels more carefree than she has in years and she hasn’t even had a sip of champagne. Stuffy music and champagne have never been her thing. But this… this is her music.

“Duty calls.” Graham’s deep voice in her ear makes her jump, and she spins around to look at him. “I’ll take a snow check on those drinks. Canadian for a rain check,” he winks.

“Okay,” Emma says, forcing a small laugh at his joke.

“Good evening,” he bids her, slowly walking away.

∞∞∞

“I feel very underdressed,” Killian grumbles as he peers down at himself. He’d never thought to change out of his blue jeans, t-shirt and black hoody, and here he is drinking champagne in a room full of rich people who are wearing tuxes and formal dresses.

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” Victor says as they make their way through the crowd.

Killian knows he’s just being nice though. Even Victor is wearing a dress shirt and blazer, but then again he blends in more with the other rich folk because unlike Killian, he’s not jobless or poor; he’s a doctor who makes more than a decent living.

Killian finishes his champagne and places the flute on a tray when a waiter approaches, and snatches another one, gulping it down like rum.

“Easy, buddy. You’re pounding those drinks pretty hard, don’t you think?” And that’s coming from Victor, who’s at the bar every night he’s not on call.

“I got fired today, mate.”

“I thought you said you quit?”

Killian’s gaze moves across the room as he turns his head to look at Victor who is standing next to him. “I was forced to quit because—” His words die in his throat, his jaw dropping when his eyes land on a gorgeous blonde dancing.

But not just any blonde. Killian recognizes her.

It’s the Secretary of State. It’s Emma Swan. His first crush. His first kiss.

He hasn’t seen her in person since she was eighteen, but she’s even more stunning as a grown woman. And she’s even more stunning than she is on television.

#cs ff #long shot au #captain swan

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cross-d-a · 4 years

Text

fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~! ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!!

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms:

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou).

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things.

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes:

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on:

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane.

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically.

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written:

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on:

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic:

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic:

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks:

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#cross talks #my fic #fanfiction #uhhh what else do i tag this as i dunno #about me #cross posts #wip fic

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ptergwen · 5 years

Text

to be held

warnings: just the floofiest fluff and lots of kisses

summary: a snow day with tommy boy

a/n: it’s been a long ass minute hi guys!!! i’m so sorry for not posting i’ve been super busy with school and all that stuff BUT i have a bunch of wips rn! imma make up for it i promiseeee. until they’re all done here’s this :,) sidenote: stay safe from miss corona! always wash your hands after (and if) you go out or sanitize if you can’t! regular cold symptoms doesn’t = coronavirus! this is all really scary but try not to panic, just pay attention and take care of yourself bby

—

it’s a given that days off are a rare thing you and tom get to have. his demanding schedule and your own social life don’t allow for a lot of downtime, so tom’s break between onward press and uncharted filming has been a god send.

catching up on much needed sleep, self-care days with shared bubble baths and face masks, and video game sessions (that you mainly enjoy because of tom’s arms around you to help with maneuvering the controller) make up your current routine. the most you’ve had to worry about lately was what takeaway place to get dinner from.

you’ve definitely spoiled yourselves, but so what? you deserve it. doing nothing is everything you two need right now.

today greeted you with piles of snow covering your driveway and the streets, which gave you an actual reason to stay in. it also made the freezing cold london weather even worse. tom insisted on a hot meal for your troubles. you were planning to crank the heat and leave it at that, but he wants to show off what he learned from the cooking lessons sam has been giving him.

plus, you’re hungry, and he’s so adorably excited to make breakfast for you.

once you’re swaddled in a fuzzy spider-man blanket that you may or may not have stolen from tom, you head downstairs. you find him in the kitchen gathering ingredients. there are already two mugs filled with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows on the table. sam must have taught him well.

one says “tea’challa,” and the other is shaped like the iron man mask. if something is marvel themed, tom buys it. you chuckle to yourself at your fanboy of a boyfriend and hug his waist from behind, blanket hanging around your arms.

“you’ve turned yourself into a burrito. that bad?” tom turns his head to give you a cheeky smile, a box of pancake mix in his hand. the cold doesn’t hit him the same because he’s his own personal furnace. how convenient for him.

“and i’ve already raised the heat. i’m running out of options here, tommy,” you whine and tighten your hold on him. “i’ve got one for you. after breakfast, we could cuddle for a while? how’s that sound?” “mm, let’s go for the whole day. i feel warmer just hearing about it.”

still smiling, tom pecks your cheek and walks over to the stove. you keep clinging onto him while he makes the rest of the batter. it’s like how a koala is with bamboo. after pouring the batter into a pan, tom turns around fully in your arms. you take the opportunity to bury your face in his chest, feeling absolute bliss in being flush against him.

he’s soft and warm and shaking with laughter. he’s better than hot chocolate on a snowy day.

“love, what’re you doing?” tom laughs out and holds you at arms length. you make a noise of protest, going back to your new comfort spot; him. “i don’t know, pre-cuddling with you? yeah, that’s what i’m gonna call it. pre-cuddling.” “oh, so this is a warm up. literally.” your scoff is muffled by his shirt. he engulfs you in a hug with arms around your lower back.

you pull away slightly to pepper his chest with kisses, earning another breathy laugh from him. you know his sweet spots. after one more kiss to his collarbone and a low call of your name, his hands move so they’re holding either of your sides. “don’t get me wrong, y/n/n. i’m super into pre-cuddling, but there are pancakes that need to be flipped.” “damnit, tom.”

huffing over-dramatically, you free him from your arms. he looks you up and down. grabbing the pan off the stove, his gaze lingers on you. of course he picks right now to be a tease. the chills are starting to make their way back, and your blanket doesn’t do much about it. nothing can top the way it feels to be held by tom.

“can’t believe you have the audacity to leave me for pancakes. pancakes that aren’t even from scratch, at that,” you tease. the look of shock on tom’s face puts a satisfied smirk on yours. “hey, i’m a beginner! sam says i have to work my way up to making my own recipes.”

proving his point, he flips a pancake too high by accident and just catches it in the pan. he silently cringes at the almost kitchen disaster. “i see that now,” you remark, making tom groan and turn to face the stove.

he plates the slightly mishappen pancake and less confidently flips another while mumbling something about how it worked when he tried it with sam. not wanting him to discourage himself, you hold him by his waist again and place a few kisses behind his ear, which always drives him crazy.

“you’ll get there, baby. i’m sure the way you’re making these will come out just as good. it’s really cool that you’re giving this a try, yeah?” “thanks, love. you’re right. i’ll just take it as a miracle that i‘ve come this far without burning the house down.” he’s half joking but half serious. your lips trail down to his jawline, him tilting his head back to encourage you to keep going.

“you’re really good at that,” he breathes out as you press more soft kisses to his skin. “good at what?” you feign innocence in practically a whisper, since you’re close enough for tom to hear. his eyes close for a moment before he shuts off the stove and puts the pan down. he faces you again with slightly parted lips.

“distracting me. that’s twice today. it’s like you want me to actually set our house on fire, y/n.” he contradicts himself by pulling you closer, his hands on your hips. you let yours move up to his shoulders and tilt your head to the side.

“well, at least that would make it warmer.” “you’re such a div, you know that?” tom squints at you with a small grin, leaning his head down. he purses his lips expectantly. now it’s your turn to be the tease. “stop using british insults at me and go finish breakfast, chef holland.”

his grin fades. “but- but my kisses-“ “they can wait, but my stomach can’t. i’m gonna go set the table,” you pat a pouting tom’s shoulders, leaving him to go through the drawer you keep silverware in.

after putting out forks, knives, napkins, and grabbing toppings from the fridge, you go back over to tom. he steps aside to present two plates with bigger stacks of pancakes than you were expecting on them. “tada! i made a few more for your impatient stomach. or rather, bisquick made a few more.” he does jazz hands around the spread, both of you sporting matching smiles.

you look down at what he made and back up at him. “tom, baby, you think that’s a few?” “you said you were hungry!” picking up a plate, he makes a ‘duh’ face and holds it out to you. you take it. “fair enough. these do smell really good. like, really really good. are we sure the right holland is in culinary school?” his humble side takes over, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks.

“aw, don’t say that before you’ve tried them.” “then i’ll say it again after i do.” you poke one of his blushing cheeks and nod towards the table. shaking his head, tom grabs his plate and walks over with you.

you both sit facing the window to watch the snow fall as you eat. even though it’s freezing you, it can still be pretty to look at. multitasking is a virtue. you load up your plate with maple syrup and chocolate chips, tom opting for fruit on the side. he sips his hot chocolate and watches intently as you cut your stack of pancakes.

licking your lips, you dip a piece into some syrup. you’re happily surprised at the taste of your first bite, bumping tom’s leg with your own to express what you can’t say with a full mouth. he leans in closer.

“how is it? good?” his eyebrows are raised in anticipation, trying to gage your answer. you turn to him and throw your arms around his neck all in one movement. he catches you and giggles as you kiss all over his cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally his lips, letting that one last the longest. your hands slide down to hold tom’s arms, him stealing another kiss from your lips.

he’s so precious that you sometimes have to find other ways than words to tell him that.

“in case you couldn’t tell,” you start, out of breath. “that’s a yes. i’m enrolling you in culinary school for real.” “that’d be fun. sam could use some competition.” “and you’d get to bring home more really good food for me.” he chuckles and rests his arm across the back of your chair, each of you ready to fully dig into your breakfast.

tom has the same reaction that you did, his face lighting up in awe at how the pancakes turned out. you’re tempted to launch another kiss attack on him, but your grumbling stomach wills you to finish eating first. it’s worth it. both of you end up clearing your plates and staring out the window at the mess of white and grey, too full to move.

“it’s really coming down out there. wonder when it’ll stop,” tom yawns and settles his arm around your shoulders. “that reminds me. cuddles?” “ugh, i physically can’t get up right now. let’s stay here.” you have to admit, you’re already pretty comfortable.

moving your head to rest on tom’s chest, you nod, your hair tickling his neck. you outstretch the spidey blanket still on you for him to get under. he wraps the rest of it around himself and leaves a quick kiss on the top of your head, leaning further into your side.

soon, your chills are long forgotten.

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klainelynch · 3 years

Text

okay but why am I feeling so nervous now that I’m posting my favorite chapters of my wip???

I might delete this later because this entire thing in my head sounds like I’m fishing for compliments and that’s absolutely not what I’m trying to do here (if you have advice on how to deal with putting pressure on yourself as a creative, I would definitely take it) but I’m feeling very insecure about my writing today and maybe if I get it down, then the vampires will stop swarming.

I’ve always felt bad about myself as a writer because I almost always write one shots. I’m good at filling in the blanks, at finding the small connections for characterization, etc. All things that are great for one shots. Writing plot has felt like a skill that just wasn’t in my grasp. (This is absolutely a me-being-insecure thing, and not a judgement on one shots, which are just as valid as multi-chapter fics in their own right, and actually what I prefer to read as well as write. Insecurity and anxiety are both so weird lmaoooo)

So writing the Spiritfarer AU has been such a positive space for me to grow as a writer. I’m proud of the story I’ve been building, and even now, I know that I’ve written this for me, and that’s what matters. But I’ve gotten such sweet and real feedback from my friends and even people I don’t know, and I’m starting to worry that I’m going to let people down. What if I’ve been building up this story, and gotten people invested, and then it’s all a letdown? I think people will like the boat’s name, but I’m wavering on Roy’s constellation, and I’ve never loved Riza’s. They’re such small details, but now they loom large in my head. I’m going to keep editing and trying to make them the best I can, because that’s how I’ve been writing all along and it’s made for a story that I’m really proud of, but again! Insecurity and anxiety are bastards!!!!

(And I know why I’m feeling nervous to post my favorite chapters. It’s because they’re my favorite, and if they disappoint people, then I will feel like I’ve wasted people’s time and the guilt would drive me mad 🤪)

And I’m doing the same thing with the multichapter podfic I’m currently recording!! I’ve recorded Katara and now Sokka’s chapters, but I haven’t relistened to them to edit them because I’m scared they suck, and I want so badly to do a good job, but it feels paralyzing :(

Anyway I’m never gonna think less of myself for thinking in one shots again, because that way, I won’t put pressure on myself to live up to expectations (that are 100% from me and not anyone else)

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venhedish · 3 years

Note

I unleash the Fanfiction Asks upon you!

👻 👀 🖊️ 😈

OMG Tumblr ate my response before I could save the draft. Pulling my hair out jfc.

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up? @hotgirlsummersam and I started co-writing a fic for Dean's birthday back in January, but we didn't finish in time. Who knows if it'll ever see the light of day. It's a Stanford era fic about Sam getting Bobby to call Dean about a haunting on campus that just so happens to coincide with his birthday. Here's a little snippet from one of my sections (I wrote Sam, Kal wrote Dean):

Sam spent the rest of the night fitful and on edge. He kept sliding out of bed and staring out the window as if Dean might be waiting there on the pavement below. When he did finally sleep, his dreams were gauzy and oppressive, rumbling with the deep bass of the Impala's engine. He’d wake over and over and think the noise was real, like a kid who’d woken up early on Christmas in time to sneak down the stairs and see what Santa left the night before – jangling with an excitement that almost bordered on nausea.

But it wasn’t real; it was just the distant sound of the freeway, or the old radiator kicking into life, or the muffed music from the dorm below shaking through the walls.

He climbed out of bed for the last time around 3am, giving up the ghost. Instead, he sat in silence at his desk in the dark, sweat clinging to his chest, and wondered if what he was waiting for would ever actually come to pass – if he’d feel better or worse when it finally did.

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about? Not really, no. I tend to get around to publishing most of the fics I actually start writing, but I do have one that I ended up being really unhappy with that won't ever go anywhere. It's about Sam being wistful about the past while he and Dean investigate a string of cattle mutilations. Here's like the only section that has any redeeming qualities:

Which is the reason why he’s staring through the dusty windshield at the haphazard pile of about ten dead cows just inside the barnyard of Happy Moos Dairy. He’s wearing a suit that’s already making sweat collect in damp patches at his armpits and the small of his back; It’s July in New Mexico and the shitty SUV doesn’t have AC. There’s a laminated ID in his left pocket that identifies him as DVM Michael Aday, bovine specialist, CDC (Dean had snorted as they worked the alias up. “Dude. Get it? It’s Meatloaf!” Sam had tried to explain to him that they were dairy cows, but it didn’t seem to matter). In the right pocket, there's a pair of blue nitrile gloves and a container of Vicks to help with the smell. He frowns in deep dissatisfaction.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. Sorry in advance for how long this snippet is, but I'm just really vibing with this fic! I have no idea when it'll be done, but I think it might be my favorite thing I've ever written when I finally finish it! (This is a gen/pre-slash story about being an outsider and losing the last shreds of your innocence as the world puts you in terrible situations. And even still, finding love and beauty in the moments in between.)

That night, as he lay awake in his bed listening to the soft sounds of the crickets in the long grass outside, he rolled over to face the shadowy figure of his brother across the room. There were other empty bedrooms in the house, but not a single one of them batted an eyelash when Sam and Dean ended up together in the little loft at the top of the stairs that had an old porthole window overlooking the forest.

“Hey, Dean?” he whispered into the quiet.

Dean didn’t answer at first, but Sam saw him shift, settling back to look up at the ceiling with an arm flung over his head. “Yeah?”

“I found a cool place out in the woods today.”

Dean adjusted his pillow. The breeze rushed in through a missing pane in the window. “Oh, yeah?”

Sam wished he could go down to the store and buy a packet of those little glow-in-the-dark stars. It would give them something to look at when they talked like this. “Yeah,” he said. “A tire swing. Right out by the creek. It gets wide there. We could swim.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean said. Something in the attic moved above them. A squirrel, maybe. “After work, if you want.”

Dean was working at the Blockbuster in town. For thirty hours a week, he was gone – renting Titanic to old ladies and pornos to their husbands. He’d never been away so much before. Last summer, he’d just mowed lawns a couple mornings a week, but now he had a real job, and Sam was left all alone until sunset just about every night. Dad was in the house a lot, banging around under the sink or drinking beer on the porch, but he was also down at the bars just as often. And when he was home, he didn’t want to be bothered unless it was to run drills. Sam never wanted to run drills, so he avoided their father like the plague.

“Yeah.” Sam shifted until his position matched Dean’s, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the animal noises above them. “Or maybe one day when you’re off. So you can see it during the day. We could bring lunch.”

Dean huffed quietly. “Pack a picnic in that little basket on the bike, go for a swim? Sounds real good to me. Not Wednesday, though. Taking Faith into the city to see Blair Witch. She’s gonna need somebody to protect her after, so I won’t be around.”

Sam could hear the husky curl of his brother’s words and rolled his eyes. “You’re so gross, God.”

Dean laughed and turned his head to look in Sam’s direction, even though it was too dark for him to really see. “Just you wait, Sammy. Another six months and you’ll be worse than me. Us Winchester men can’t live without good pussy.”

“Ugh!” Sam grabbed the pillow from behind his head and chucked it straight at his brother. “Quit it, Dean!”

Dean grunted as the pillow hit him in the face. He did this sometimes, grossed Sam out with sex talk, tried to make him blush. Sam hated it almost as much as he hated running drills.

Sam let his head thump back against the hard mattress. “Just another reason I know we can’t be related. I’ll never be gross like you.”

Dean made a show of tucking Sam’s discarded pillow under his own and plumping it up. “Yeah, yeah, purity boy. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I know you'll actually be a virgin for the rest of your natural life, don’t worry.”

Sam sighed so loud the rustling of tiny paws in the attic stopped for a second. “You better quit or I won’t show you the tire swing.”

Dean laughed again. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’ll get it on at a respectable age and never use the word ‘pussy’ in your life and marry the first girl you kiss just to be safe. That better?”

Sam turned over on the bed, uncomfortable without his pillow, and faced the wall away from Dean. “Just shut up and go to sleep, Dean.”

He could hear his brother adjusting in his own bed before settling down again. “Night, Sammy.”

He closed his eyes tight and let out an exasperated breath. “Night, Dean.”

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

Making you cry. 😢😘

#asks #decadent-prince

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aidendh · 3 years

Text

Explosions, Wings and Power (A Bnha fanfic) (WIP)

(I haven't touched this in weeks, so I thought I'd post the WIP)

Word Count Goal: 2500 - 4000

Description

Nightmares,

He didn’t have them often, but they tended to feel familiar and real. ‘Doctor’, ‘Sludge’, ‘Dome’. What did they mean? Only one Katsuki Bakugo knew and he would use them to keep his friends safe. He was not gonna waste this second chance.

It doesn’t hurt if he changes the future, right?

When given another chance at life, the newly named ‘Katsuki Bakugo’ treads through it with his best friends on their path to become a hero.

Chapter 1

“Basa, wait up!” Cried out Izuku, his mop of green hair bobbing as he ran. The little boy's emerald green eyes kept his best friends in sight while falling behind.

“Yeah! We can’t fly like you ya’ know!” exclaimed Katsuki while narrowing his piercing red eyes, trying to see through his spiky ash blond hair. He was faring better than Izuku, but he still couldn’t keep up with their airborne friend.

Said boy (Chujitsu), despite being less than a meter off the ground, called back, “Well maybe you guys should hurry up!”. He turned his grey barely haired head back with his narrow grey-blue eyes glancing at his flightless pals.

What was keeping him airborne was a pair of red dragon-like wings, his Quirk.

Quirk: A power usually manifested at around the age of 4 and what 80% of the world's population had.

Chujitsu Tsubasa: Known as Wings, his transformation type Quirk allows him to temporarily grow wings on his back.

_______________________________

-9 Years later-

*Jet set r-*

A 14-year-old Katsuki Bakugo swiped his phone to rid it of his alarm. He then turned over in his bed and drifted off.

*All Might The-*

Katsuki swiped his alarm off again then pulled his phone over to check the time.

‘Time: 8:20’

‘7:30 Get up Alarm-Missed’

He blinked, giving himself a moment to wake up and process the screen. ‘8:20? ...! Overslept!’

Scrambling out of bed, he quickly changed into his black Junior High uniform and grabbed his bag and phone. Booking it out of his room and past his parents, he gave a quick “See ya!” to them and left for school.

His mother (Mitsuki Bakugo), the spitting image of her son, just shook her head in amusement.

“See ya trouble!” She yelled after him.

Katsuki’s phone rang in his pocket. After checking the ID and confirming who it was, he answered.

“Kacchan, where are you?” Chujitsu asked.

“Booking it to school while rethinking my life, you?” He replied.

“Waiting at the gates with ‘zuku. What happened? You’re normally the first one here.”

Katsuki slowed his run as Aldera Junior High showed in the distance.

“Just Overslept,” he paused, taking in a breath, “nightmares again.”

Chujitsu took a minute to process this. It was rare for Katsuki to have nightmares and was considered a big deal if they kept him up for more than one night. This would cause him to become paranoid and overprotective over the subject of his night terrors.

With any other person it wouldn’t be considered this big of a deal, but whenever this happened to the blonde danger was sure to follow. Chujitsu knew this better than anyone as it had saved his life once before.

“Just don’t push yourself today,” was heard just beyond the nearby gate that the sprinting teen was approaching. After hanging up the phone Katsuki rushed in and grabbed the other greenette’s arm to stop his momentum.

“Hi, Kacchan!” Greeted Izuku, as Katsuki started to regain a steady breath. After some small talk they headed in to find their class so as not to be late.

________________________________

-Last Period-

“So, as third year students, you need to start thinking more seriously about the future, and what you want to be doing with your lives.” Started the non-descript teacher.

“I could get Bakugo-San to hand out some Career Aptitude Tests.” Said Bakugo got ready to stand up but stopped at the boring tone of his Sensei.

“But... Why bother, I know you all want the Hero track!!” At the sign of Sensei about to throw the papers across the classroom, Katsuki spoke up.

“Sensei, even if that is true, we still need to fill out the High School part of the form. We’re not all aiming for the same school.” Many students groaned at his gruff and demanding tone, most expecting this from their Class Prez.

“Ah, Bakugo-San, you are correct on that front. Now that I think about it, aren't you, Tsubasa-San and Midoriya-San aiming for U.A High?” At this accusation, their classmates went into an uproar of voices.

“Really!?”

“They’re trying for the national school?!”

“Isn’t there a 0.2% acceptance rate?”

“It’s impossible to get into!”

Though one stood out more than the others,

“A Quirkless loser won't stand a chance!” After hearing this, the class stilled. Not many people mess with the Quirkless student, not with Bakugo and Tsubasa on his side.

“I think the principle wouldn’t like to hear that someone is disrespecting one of Aldera’s top students and my best friend?” Katsuki stated with a threatening sweet tone and piercing grin. He may be one of the top students, but he was willing to snitch on others if it meant his friends would be safe. That shut the accuser right up.

“Now, now you two. I don’t want another fight breaking out in my classroom.” Stated Sensei,

“Bakugo-San please pass out the sheets.”

________________________________

-Elsewhere-

A woman screamed in the populated streets as a man that appeared to be made of green sludge rushed past with Yen Bills scattered inside his Liquidus body.

“Hey, get back here!” Yelled the store clerk that just ran out of a nearby store. Some more people shouted in protest of the thieving criminal, but all was for null as he rushed out of sight.

“Yell all ya’ want sucker! This cash is mine!” Grinded his gargling voice. Other bystanders just carried on with their days, this wasn’t the first criminal, and it won't be the last.

“Dude where are all the Heroes?” asked a civilian, confusion etched his face, “Normally one would attack right away.” Despite the worried looks of others, however mild, a nearby senior scoffed and turned to a fellow colleague.

“Remember when we didn’t need to worry about criminals using their Quirks left and right?”

“Seriously there’s no stopping them.”

Back at the same store a sickly blond man exited with shopping in each hand. His lanky body then expanded and grew in size to a buff and well-known Hero.

“Yes, there is,” At hearing the recognizable tone, bystanders looked over and were immediately stripped of their worries. “You know why? Because I am here!”

_______________________________

-After Class-

“Wanna go to karaoke?”

“Sure.”

“A Gigantification quirk huh? Didn’t Kacchan come up with one just like this?” Muttered Midoriya, scrolling down the news on his phone about a new Pro Hero’s debut.

Leaning on the greenette’s desk, Bakugo glanced at Izuku’s phone.

“I’m heading to the shopping district in a min, you guys want anything?”

Jumping up spooked, Izuku stuttered out,

“K-Kacchan! Um... it’s fine I don’t really need anything.” The third member of the trio piped up from the doorway,

“You paying?” asked Tsubasa, his thin grey ponytail resting over his shoulder.

“Yeah right!” Answered the blond while as he rolled his eyes, “Sure. What’cha want Basa?” The long-haired teen pretended to think it over.

“Not sure.” Was his reply. Bakugo just scoffed,

“Candy it is then.” He looked back at Izuku who was typing something on this phone, most likely notes on the new Hero and Criminal from the news.

“You sure you don’t want anything ‘Zuku? I heard the new Hero collectors' cards are in.” His face overcame with a sly playful look, knowing that Midoriya was collecting them.

“B-but Kacchan! You don’t have to; I can just pick some up tomorrow!” Though he tried to persist, the greenette looked thankful knowing that the blond would do it anyway.

“No buts!” Bakugo grinded heading to the door.

“See ya guys!” The trio then headed out their separate ways, though Katsuki couldn’t get the feeling from the back of his mind that disaster was sure to come.

Stopping in his tracks, he turned his head back to his Best Friends.

“...Chujitsu, stick with Izuku for me, will ya?” At the sight of the blonde's wariness and the worried tone of his voice, Chijitsu and Izuku were quick to agree.

_______________

Feel free to critique this in the comments!

I love hearing from you guys!

#aidendh's writing #writing #aiden's aus #rau #bnha #ewp au #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #Chujitsu Tsubasa #bnha tsubasa #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #bnha au #ewp katsuki

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

Note

oooo ooooo my guess is sunset, sleepy, perfect, and picnic!

Ahh, I'm assuming this is for that WIP guessing game thing from a couple days ago?? Nice words, I can tell what you're trying to get information about ;-)

Standard TPWM and TPWP spoilers ahead! Some are fairly big, so be warned.

(Read more added for Mysterious Reasons ;-) )

TPWM:

Sunset: "Mondo watches as Taka takes a deep breath and nods shakily, the small smile he’s wearing so utterly incredible and heartbreakingly beautiful. Mondo honestly has no idea how Taka doesn’t have a girlfriend (or boyfriend, he refuses to judge) already. He’s literally the epitome of a perfect man. Beautiful, caring, kind, smart, considerate, surprisingly funny… like, damn. He’s the whole goddamn package and Mondo has no idea how he’s not taken. Anyone would be beyond lucky to have him. It’s all he can do to smile back at the kid, eyes roaming his features, before remembering his fast-approaching deadline. If they wait too much longer, Taka won’t be able to see the full extent of the sunset, and that would be a goddamn shame, honestly."

Sleepy: "Mondo remains laying like that for an unknown amount of time, too afraid to move and look at the time. He doesn’t want to wake the kid, after all. Not before it’s time to get up. He’s quickly coming to crave these sleepy moments, moments where he’s awake but the kid isn’t. Moments where he can allow his heart to feel all the shit he’s not allowed to feel during the day, his heart beating for one person and one person alone. Moments where the world outside doesn’t matter, and only the world he’s holding does."

Perfect: "Mondo’s face is on fire with mortification at the overly sappy words he’d said, but he can’t find it in him to regret them. Not when he means them fully. Taka... yeah. Yeah, he looks good like this. Looks /amazing/. So beautiful and sharp and shit. But... fuck. It’s not /him/, and Mondo can’t help but hate it a bit for that, too. Taka... Taka is amazing as he is. His personality, his looks... his /everything/. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about himself. He... he’s already perfect, even with his flaws. So... so perfect..."

(I'm adding 'perfectly' to this, since I like the paragraph the word showed up in and I really wanna share it, ha.)

Perfectly: “"Goddamn, kid. ‘M not tryin’ ta hassle ya, just... ‘m just tryin’ ta figure more out ‘bout this new life a’ yers. Ever since Daiya... shit. I know ya were super close ta him, kid. An’ I know you an’ I weren’t that close, but ya know I viewed you an’ Dai like family. Hearin’ what happened ta him... shit broke my fuckin’ heart. I kept tryin’ ta call ya, ta let ya know ya didn’t hafta be alone, but ya never fuckin’ answered. You can imagine my fuckin’ shock when I overheard the news that not only were ya in town, but that yer attendin’ that fuckin’ high-class school now. Wanted ta reach out again, see how ya were, but I just... didn’t fuckin’ know if ya’d want that shit. Made it perfectly fuckin’ clear ya didn’t wanna see me after the funeral. Thought maybe ya might a’ changed yer mind after ya called, but I guess fuckin’ not. Just... hope things work out well fer you an’ yer kid. Mean that. Ya deserve ta be happy, Mondo. An’... know y’ain’t gonna wanna hear me say this shit, but I know Dai would be proud as fuck if he could see ya today. Fuck, ya look so fuckin’ grown up... makes me feel like an old crone, goddamn. But... it really was nice seein’ ya today, kid. Real fuckin’ nice.”" (This is said by an OC not in TPWP, by the by, ha. Mondo needs more adults who care about him. <3)

Picnic: "He continues to tell himself this as he puts the shit from the picnic away. Trash in the trash can, helmet on his counter, wine bottle and glasses on the table… the kid watches him the entire time, his eyes intent as ever, and it makes him oddly nervous. Wanting to give his mind something to focus on other than his nerves, Mondo begins to babble about how much fun he’d had that day and how he wants to do it again sometime. Part of him is hoping that it will get Taka to start talking too, but he should have known better than that. All the kid does is /stare/, giving a small, almost dismissive nod when he finishes. He tries not to let it destroy him."

~~~~

TPWP:

Sunset: “Oh, so now it’s fucking all about you again, huh?! Like fucking always! What the fuck did ya think was gonna happen, saying that shit ta me?! What, that we’d just- just fucking... ride off inta the fucking sunset together?! Ha! Yer fucking /delusional/ if ya think that would ever /fucking/ happen! Y’ain’t... y’ain’t got no fucking clue who the fuck I am! Don’t even know the fucking /shit/ I’ve done! God /fucking/ dammit, Kiyo, how fucking dare ya say this absolute /shit/ ta me, when ya’ve got no fucking clue who the fuck I am! You-“" (Have fun guessing the context for this piece of dialogue... ha. It's the only paragraph that has sunset in it outside of the chapters I've already posted, though, so it's what I'm going with here!)

Sleepy: "Taka lets out a soft noise to indicate that he can do it himself, shifting heavily to sit up. Despite all the sleep he’s gotten, he still feels so very tired... he’s not sure if the medication causes drowsiness or not, but regardless, he feels very lethargic and sleepy. He doesn’t try and argue against Mondo, though. Mainly because he finds that— despite his still somewhat queasy stomach— he is actually hungry. And the soup does smell very good, when Mondo carefully opens the top of the soup container..."

Perfect: “"Y’ain’t. Y’ain’t gonna ever be alone, Kiyo, not with me here. Shit, man... I ain’t ever leavin’ ya, an’ I don’t care how many times I gotta fuckin’ say it ‘til it sinks in, fuckin’ a million times, don’t mean shit as long as ya... as ya know I /mean/ it, okay? Ain’t a single, fuckin’, goddamn thing that’ll make me hate you. Not... not anythin’, okay? I may get mad or upset, ‘cuz I ain’t fuckin’ perfect an’ I know I got my own issues ta deal with, but... but no matter how mad I may get, ain’t ever at you, okay? I’m just... mad. At myself. At the world. At just... all a’ it. But not you... not- not ever /you/. Okay? A-an’ I’ll tell ya this every fuckin’ day if ya need me ta, every goddamn minute. Ain’t goin’ nowhere, man. Not unless ya want me ta go. Yer kinda stuck with me, heh. So don’t... don’t worry, okay? I’m... I’m here, Kiyo. I’ll always /be/ here. If there’s one thing I want ya ta know... it’s that, okay? Ain’t ever leavin’ ya. /Never/. Okay?”"

(I'll do 'perfectly' here too, since... why not, ha.)

Perfectly: "And if Mondo- a-ah. /If/ Mondo works through his own issues and realizes that he does... does /want to be with him/, well. Then, Taka will do everything he can to make /them/ work. To make... to make them work. After all, he highly doubts he will ever love someone quite as much as he loves Mondo, even if he might be able to find some form of love again. If he believed in such fanciful nonsense as /soulmates/, well. He’d think that he and Mondo are it. Two pieces of the same puzzle, made perfectly to compliment the other, even if they’re not at all the same. Their similarities are just enough to make the differences all the more striking and beautiful, he feels. He doesn’t quite know if Mondo feels the same about him, can’t quite get a feel for that, but he doesn’t doubt that Mondo feels /something/ for him. Something more than just friendship. Something deeper than just that. Something decidedly not /familial/, too."

Picnic: “"Yeah, it sure fuckin’ is, Kiyo. We, uh... we should come back here one day. Have a picnic or some shit. Maybe when it ain’t fuckin’ freezin’, but uh... fuck, dude. Shit’d be nice, yeah?”" (This is legit the only other time I use the word "picnic" in this fic other than in chapter 16, ha.)

~~~~

(Link to the original post so everyone knows what this is about, ha)

Fanfic Work-In-Progress Guessing Game

#Ask Answers #wip guessing game

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little-astro-naut · 4 years

Text

serendipity | namjoon

serendipity n. the phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for In which you are a university student working at a vintage/book store, and Kim Namjoon is a tad clumsy.

college/university!au

pairing: kim namjoon/reader (gender not specified in fic!) genre: fluff!!! just a wholesome read in general word count: 1.9k warnings: none, unless you need a warning for namjoon being the cutest clumsy dork note: Happy New Year!

Taking a 2021 leap of faith by posting my first fic ever, and it's for the ever lovable Kim Namjoon of BTS. This has been sitting in my WIPs for so long, but I'm glad I finally got the guts to just sit down and finish it. This fic is just a short happy little thing that I wanted to welcome the new year with, so I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

May this year be much, much better for you all. Thank you for clicking on this tiny thing, and enjoy!

[crossposted to AO3]

The day begins like usual.

You wake up at around seven in the morning. It takes a few groans and some burrowing under the covers before you reluctantly leave the comfort of your bed to get ready for another day of school. Today is Thursday, you note. Just one more day after this until the sweet, sweet embrace of the weekend.

On Thursdays, your classes begin at nine in the morning and end at three in the afternoon, after which you walk a few blocks down the street from your university to your part-time job at the little vintage shop right across the convenience store.

It’s owned by a pleasant, middle-aged lady with a love for collecting antiques, trinkets, books, and other unique finds she’s stumbled upon in her numerous travels around the globe. She often drops by the store when she isn’t away on another trip, waltzing in through the front door, clad in her signature ensemble of an expensive silk headscarf, a flowing floral dress, a pair of vintage designer boots, and a pretty little purse that magically fits everything and then some.

She’s like a real-life Mary Poppins—that is, if Mary Poppins had the aesthetic of a suspiciously rich 50-something lady whom you can usually find day drinking at some obscure Spanish restaurant. You don’t really know where she gets the money to own all that she does and travel five times each month (A small vintage shop at a university area surely wouldn’t make that much money, right?), but you don’t need to know. The elusiveness is part of her charm.

You met her one day as you were intently reviewing every single item on the shelf to score some hardbound anniversary edition copies of your favorite classics for cheap. She had noticed you frequenting her store, and finally offered you a part-time position due to your sincere—albeit novice—appreciation for quietly valuable things, and you said yes on the spot. It meant extra money and a 20% discount to your favorite shop, after all.

The walk to the store is short—a five-minute stroll along pretty rows of old brick apartments and quaint ice cream parlors and small restaurants with cuisine ranging from Japanese to Mediterranean. Your usual brisk walk becomes a leisurely pace today, thanks to the rare early dismissal from your Contemporary Asian Art elective, your last class of the day.

Breathing in the fresh afternoon air and looking up, you take time to admire how green the trees are at this time of the year. It’s calming to watch the leaves sway gently with the breeze, giving way for sparse rays of the sun to illuminate patches of the ground like tiny twinkling stars. Your eyes absentmindedly scan the sidewalk for the bits of sunlight that pass through.

The day feels brighter and kinder when you’re not hurrying, you think to yourself.

The mellow tingle of the chimes interrupts your reverie, announcing your arrival to the shop.

“Hey!” Taehyung, your co-worker, greets you with a smile as he packs away a small stack of readings and notes in his messenger bag. “Got a big exam today so I may have to go a little sooner, is that okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Good luck on that test!” You smile back, taking a seat behind the counter as you review the day’s transactions so far. “Wow, that’s a good number of purchases today—and it’s only three p.m.”

Taehyung swings his bag over his shoulder and ruffles his already messy black hair. “Right? Oh! Remember that really handsome guy I told you about? Broad shoulders, cute smile, even cuter laugh? The one from my English class?”

You give him an enthusiastic “YES?” in acknowledgment. Taehyung has not shut up about him all semester, but it took just one chance encounter on campus with “really handsome guy” to prove to you that “really handsome” was a gross understatement, and that if you were in his position, you’d never keep your mouth shut either.

“He came by this morning. Must’ve left his magical touch on the store.” Taehyung pauses, wiggling his fingers around to illustrate his point.

Taehyung’s silly action makes you snicker, but the gravity of his statement hits you all of a sudden, causing you to widen your eyes in response. “Wait. You mean I missed him!?” You frown in disappointment, and Taehyung gives you a sympathetic nod. “Damn. Well, at least he bestowed enough magic to help you survive that huge exam.”

“Not just survive it; I’m gonna ace it.” Taehyung winks. “And hey, I’m certain Mr. Eye Candy’s left enough magic in the store for you, too, out of his kindness.”

“When you finally get the guts to ask the guy out, tell him thank you!” You laugh and give each other one last wave before he skips to the exit, almost bumping into a customer who has just entered the store. They bow to each other in apology.

“Good afternoon! How may I help you?” You stand up from where you’re seated to make yourself available to the tall boy in a black cap and blue shirt. Funny, you haven’t even seen his face yet, but you already think the denim is a good look on him. Not a lot of people don’t look like a joke in denim shirts, but even fewer people are blessed with the ability to look amazing in them. The first customer of your shift, whoever he is, is one of those people.

He takes clumsy steps through the entrance, retreating the arms that pushed the door open back into his pockets. The cap on his head, however, is doing nothing to help you get a better glimpse of the boy who has kind of piqued your interest.

Then he topples over a whole stack of books on display up by the front of the store. Now you’re really interested.

As he picks up a couple of books from the floor, the “SALE” sign beside also falls with a muted thud when it hits a hardbound copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. He looks up from where he’s knelt on the ground, searching for someone to whom he can address more of his profuse apologies before standing up in shame, waiting for the cute person behind the counter to approach and also maybe but hopefully not reprimand him for his stupidity.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him whisper in panic. “I am so sorry about that. I’ll fix it.”

He tries, at least.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, as if to admit defeat against the on-sale books still on the floor. You’re chuckling, walking towards him and effectively pretending you are not the least bit fazed by the stranger’s slightly obscured puppy eyes and mild panic and how he towers over you while being as threatening as a lost child.

“Need some help?” you chuckle again—out of nervousness more than anything, if you’re being honest—and he reciprocates shyly.

“Sorry about this.” He gives you a sheepish smile as he adjusts his cap and scratches the back of his head. It’s quick, but it’s more than enough to give you a perfect glimpse of his handsome face: timid eyes, full cheeks, and a guilty smile boasting of a dimple on each side.

You lag for a moment upon the unobstructed sight of him, but almost immediately catch yourself. A brief clearing of the throat and you begin picking up the books sprawled on the floor between the both of you. He quickly bends down to try and be of assistance, picking up a few and checking to make sure he made no damages to any of the copies before returning them to the display rack.

You both reach for the dog-eared paperback edition of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being at the same time, and you could’ve sworn a sudden spark jolts you the moment your hands meet.

He’s the first to look up. The boy in the cap waits to meet your gaze as you blink to yourself a few times before deciding to check on said boy in front of you. Now it’s your turn to say sorry, and you’re not really even sure why. Just felt like speaking would help make this less nerve-wracking for you and your now pounding chest.

And then he snorts. It’s not even supposed to be a pleasant sound, but it tickles your ears and heart in a way that requires all of your willpower to keep yourself from melting into a puddle right then and there. He picks up the book, stands up straight, and looks at you—still smiling, still so attractive it honestly hurts. The softest of giggles leaves his lips, and you really, truly, die a little.

“Sorry, um…” He scratches his head. Maybe a cute habit of his? He has no real followup to that apology, so he pretends he didn’t say it and just continues with the next thought in his head.

“I’ve been looking for this for so long.” He lifts the copy of the Kundera novel in his hand.

Ah, the book. You almost misunderstand.

“I’ve wanted to own this in this particular cover, but for some odd reason, it wasn’t in any bookstore I’ve visited before.”

“Oh, well then, I’m glad you found what you were looking for here.” You smile shyly.

“This and more, really,” he whispers to himself, and you don’t quite catch it.

“That copy’s actually also our last of that novel. If you had come by on any other day it might have been gone already,” you explain, mentally patting yourself in the back for finishing your sentence without stuttering.

You fidget with your fingers, praying for a reason to continue speaking with the beautiful stranger and the courage to maintain eye contact the way he’s effortlessly doing.

“I’m glad I dropped by today, then.” He stares at you for a moment, hoping you catch just what he really means before his eyes turn into crescent moons when he scrunches his nose to give you a playful grin.

It seems that your prayers work. Without missing a beat, you find uncharacteristic confidence from within your nervous bones to respond, “I’m glad you did, too.”

“Maybe I should drop by again tomorrow,” he says, your answer giving him a boost of confidence. “And the next day, too, maybe?”

“We restock books on Fridays and Saturdays. I’m off then, so my friend Jimin will be the one to assist you if ever.” You smile, teasing.

“Hmm, how about Sunday?”

“We’re closed on Sundays.”

He purses his lips as he holds back another fit of giggles, shaking his head lightly. He has been nothing but a dork and a dumbass this whole time, and yet, luckily, it seems like it’s working. So he pushes it.

“How about I make it simpler by just asking you out right now? Since it’s your day off, how does tomorrow sound?”

You laugh at this, before coyly looking at him to say, “What makes you so sure I’ll say yes?”

“Just trying my luck, really.” He laughs, too.

“Today must be your lucky day, stranger.”

“Kim Namjoon,” he responds, perfect smile still there on his face. “My name’s Namjoon.”

“Well then, Namjoon, today’s your lucky day.”

And mine, too, you think to yourself. You hope Taehyung doesn’t forget to extend your gratitude to Mr. Eye Candy.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop by my ask for comments, suggestions, or just to say hi!! Constructive criticism is welcome, but please be kind! I'm very new to this so I would greatly appreciate kind feedback.

#bts scenario #bts imagine #bts au #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #RM #kim namjoon #namjoon #fic: serendipity

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undeniablycandycane · 3 years

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✨✨ You have been visited by the WIP fairy. Feel free to talk about any of your WIPS in as much detail as you want ✨✨✨

Aww <3 thanks (sorry again for slow replies; I'm spacing them out for reasons,,)

First and current WIP is a oneshot. I won't dive into much detail but they're in the city and there is an antiques store and it is very bittersweet.. I have the outline and thats it lmao but I have been wanting to write it for like... three weeks but You Know Me

Second one is supposed to be a real fic (but the only fic over like 3000 words i've ever made was something that today I cringe at but ANYWAY) rich jed AU (he has nice cowboy house,,), Oct starts working for mysterious rich cowboy man, much lust ensues.. i have maybe 1500 or so words on it but I ended up stopping thinking aboht that one cause Oh Dear Antiques Must Be Written Now (spoiler alert still hasn't been written,,)

A few WIPs I've just scrapped because it was clear I didn't have the motivation or desire to write them anymore. My first AO3 fic is not one of those. I do want to write it, it's just the way I see Jed and Oct has changed, and it would feel awkward going back to that but I'm sure if I give myself enough chance (and a break from constant internal scrutiny) I can develop it into something that feels more accurate. I want to work on my others first because I lose interest if I wait too long to write something (oops) and also I want to have something for the kiddos to read cause that first oneshot is gonna be real dirty and I worry that kids are gonna be like "oh well guess i'll read this cause it's like the only thing Em has written" and we can't have that now can we

In terms of other WIPS I have a couple of audio edits I was doing. I did post an Octavius edit but unfortunately I got too embarrassed after relistening cause I felt it wasn't good enough so I deleted it. It only got like 1 note anyway so I figured it wasn't worth it. I may pick it back up again who knows

And as for art I have a lot of stuff I've pretty much just shelved. I could pick them back up sometime, but probably not anytime soon. I just take too long on art most of the time, and get super frustrated if I'm not a specific mood (which i do feel guilty for wasting my writing moods on video games. I probably am addicted oof)

One more thing I can mention is that I have a draft of me ranking all the Owen Wilson movies I have seen (most of them) in a very detailed way and also rating them based on how much NATM fans would like them.

Anyway yeah that's my WIPS (comments on my ideas fuel me to write too tho nothing is guaranteed but always appreciated! I want to try to set aside some time where I can just. Lock all my other apps or something if there's a way to do that? Just to force myself to write lol. Whatever it takes. I'm sure I'll find a way to do it.)

And thanks, I appreciate asks like this. It's nice to talk about WIPs so publicly but I don't want to spoil too much. Still I have the plots for both my main WIPs mostly figured out so yeah, really not much else to do for them besides write fjfnxxn

#em talks #need to actually. use a tag if I want it to be. yknow. USED #ask #anon #nice anons #theyre all nice im sorry if i didnt tag the other ones as nice cause they were!! im just major forget

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insanelycooljk · 4 years

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IF UR STILL DOIN THESE can i ask about your roleswap au? oR the evan is a compulsive liar one, whichever! @bandtrees

send me the title of one of my deh wips and I’ll share an excerpt/tell you a bit about it

(you can read my reply about the “maybe evan really IS a compulsive liar” one here)

Oh boy the roleswap au... honestly this is an idea I’ve had for a really long time that I kind of forgot about, but then Kayla’s jared dies! au inspired me to revisit it. In a suprise to absolutely no one lmao, there’s a whole lot of angst. Like, I’d kind of forgotten what the plot was, and when I went back and read over my notes for it the other day I made MYSELF cry. So uhhh, yeah, this one’s gonna hurt

The concept is very simple, and I’m sure has been done before, but basically Evan and Connor (and Jared and Zoe to an extent) swap roles. So Evan dies, and Connor writes a therapy letter which gets mistaken for Evan’s suicide note. On that, obviously trigger warning for suicide.

Alright so this wip still needs a lot of work because I’m still trying to narrow it down to a single cohesive plot and figure out how to keep it in character (for instance I just can’t see Connor forming the equivalent of The Connor Project and dragging out the lie to that extent) But, here’s what I’ve got at the moment!

The first day of school is almost identical to canon, so I won’t get into that, but Evan still had his attempt over the summer and hence has his broken arm. I mean yeah, maybe Evan’s dialogue is a little different because he’s struggling more with his depression, but I don’t see his second attempt as necessarily being planned. It’s more of an impromptu “finish what I started” decision he makes after having an awful first day back at school

The only real change from canon at this point is the letter. It’s a therapy assignment for Connor rather than Evan.

The scene where Evan prints his letter and Connor signs his cast is essentially the same as canon too, except obviously Connor is the one writing the letter. Evan is just in the library to print out some homework or something for school.

After they talk/Connor signs his cast, Evan goes over to the printer to grab his own thing, and sees the page underneath has “Dear Connor Murphy” written at the top. Evan assumes it’s Connor’s, so in an attempt to be nice, grabs it as well.

Aaaaand here’s where the angst really starts. Originally I was going to do a whole kleinphy thing by fully switching Zoe and Jared. But then I had an excellent (aka horrible) idea.

So Connor’s finished letter still follows the same format of Evan’s as [today was NOT an amazing day] [talking about Zoe/Jared] [sad shit].

Except here’s the thing. The morning was essentially the same as canon, which means Jared still made the awful school shooter joke. So sure, Connor mentions Jared in his letter, but he’s got nothing nice to say. As he’s venting about how today wasn’t an amazing day, he writes a few lines about how Jared is a fucking asshole and he can’t believe he ever thought that they could actually be friends.

... Yeah. I’m sure you can already guess how that is going to turn out :(

But the angst doesn’t stop there. Evan clearly isn’t going to see Jared’s name in Connor’s letter and freak out because he thinks Connor has a crush on him. That just... makes zero sense lmao. But you know what Evan might think when he sees Jared’s name? Especially after Jared was a dick to Evan at the start of the day?

That they’re making fun of him.

“D-did Jared put you up to this?”

“… What?”

“He… you’re making fun of me. Both of you.”

Connor can see Evan’s spiralling into some sort of panic attack, knows he probably shouldn’t push but he’s got no clue what the fuck Evan is talking about.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That’s why you came to apologise and-, and why you signed my cast, you two are making fun of me.”

“What? I wasn’t-“

Evan’s not even listening, he just keeps talking like he can’t hear Connor at all.

“I can’t believe I thought you were being nice to me.” He chokes out a bitter laugh that sounds more like sob. “But no, it’s just one of Jared’s stupid jokes.”

Connor’s speechless. Has no clue what to say because this just makes no fucking sense at all.

Evan’s full-on hyperventilating now, taking these huge shuddering breaths. Connor’s kind of worried Evan might pass out on him if he doesn’t do something

“Evan hey, just breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, finally making eye contact. “I-I have to, have to go.”

And then Evan runs out of the room because he’s definitely having a panic attack and he needs to get away.

Connor is just kind of standing there staring at the door, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. Feels like shit because he was actually enjoying talking to Evan, but no somehow he managed to ruin it.

It takes Connor a minute before he realises Evan still has his letter. He calls out after Evan but he’s long gone.

Then we switch to Heidi’s POV. She gets a phone call while at work from Evan’s therapist’s office saying he never showed up to his appointment after school.

Heidi never forgives herself for this after the fact, but her first reaction is to feel kind of annoyed. She knew Evan didn’t want to go to his session today when she booked it, but she was just trying to do the right thing because she knows Evan always struggles starting back at school. Plus therapy costs money, they don’t exactly give you a refund/cancellation fee for not showing up, and they just can’t afford to be paying for therapy sessions Evan isn’t even attending right now.

She is a little concerned though. It’s not the first time Evan’s skipped an appointment, but he usually only does it if he’s had a particularly bad panic attack that day. But she isn’t worried enough to leave work early, which kills her later. Heidi wonders if she had of gone straight home if she could’ve been there quick enough.

I don’t want to go into this in too much detail, but I’m thinking Evan ODs. The tree thing didn’t work out last time so he figures he better try something else. He feels bad that this definitely couldn’t be interpretted as an accident like his fall was, but he just... doesn’t care anymore.

And god, Heidi finds him when she gets home from work, and somehow her being a nurse makes it so much worse because she knows it’s too late. Of course she still tries everything she can, and she kind of dissociates into work mode so she can put some of her panic aside, but she knows.

But... I don’t really want to write that because it’s too sad even for me lol. So the scene will probably just end with Heidi coming home and getting a bad feeling when she calls out to Evan and he doesn’t reply. It’s not the most out of character thing, because Heidi’s assuming he must have had a really bad panic attack since he ditched therapy, so he’s probably exhausted and having a sleep. But when she goes to Evan’s room to check on him her heart stops.

The next couple of days Connor mirrors Evan in canon. He’s getting antsy that Evan stole his letter and now hasn’t been at school.

I haven’t quite worked out what Zoe’s role will be yet, so I’m not sure if she’ll act as Connor’s sole confidant (like Jared is for Evan) or not. It’d make sense since Jared is kind of taking Zoe’s place, but I just don’t think it will work given the current state of her and Connor’s relationship. Either way, whether he told Zoe or not, Connor is getting really paranoid about Evan/the letter.

It’s been 3 days now since Evan took his letter and he’s still not at school.

Jared’s been away too, but he’s back today and is acting really fucking weird. He’s wearing like... a plain hoodie or something which is very unlike Jared, and he just looks really exhausted and has none of his usual arrogance. Plus he keeps staring at Connor and giving him these weird looks.

Connor’s so stressed about this stupid letter that he’s contemplating asking Jared where the hell Evan is, but he’s seriously freaking Connor out right now.

Before Connor has a chance to make up his mind about whether he should try to talk to Jared, he gets called to the principal’s office. And so the lie begins lmao.

But god... the amount of extra angst of NOT going the kleinphy route and instead having Connor write bad things about Jared in the letter is just... pure evil genius if I do say so myself

Like, imagine Jared’s parents going to see Heidi and do whatever they can to be there for her and make sure she’s ok, and Jared kind of numbly getting ready to go with them, only for his parents to explain that Heidi doesn’t exactly want to see him right now because of what Evan wrote in his note... ouch.

And god that just makes Jared sick to his stomach because what the hell did Evan say about him? And once he gets to actually read the “note” himself he really is sick.

And since his family is obviously very close with Heidi it really puts a strain on Jared’s relationship with his parents too, because they’re clearly extremely disappointed in him for doing whatever it was that made Evan write THAT

Just the whole Kleinman/Hansen dynamic would be so complicated. (but it will be fun to write!)

And oh boy... remember the amount of horrific hate Zoe recieved when Alana posted Evan’s letter online? Connor’s letter outright says something along of the lines of Jared is a fucking asshole/why did I ever think we could possibly be friends/etc. I haven’t worked out the exact wording yet because getting the letter right is just... so critical to the fic lol, but yeah if it gets posted online? yikes.

So anyway, that’s the roleswap au. I’m still working out the more specific plot details of this one, but I think it’s got some alright potential. There’s going to be a lot of tension between Jared and Connor as Jared struggles to decide whether or not he believes Connor, and as Connor finds it increasingly difficult to lie to Jared. Hmm you know on second thought maybe a kleinphy subplot doesn’t sound so bad 🤔 but just more of a slowburn angle which doesn’t start until after Evan dies... much to think about hahaha

I like to think Jared works out the truth on his own eventually, which leads to a gfy-esque fight. And whilst Zoe might take on Jared’s role in a way, Alana will be pretty much the same as she is in canon. Because for her it was always more about the message of the project than the actual person.

#tw suicide #deh reverse au #the jared connor tension is just so JXIJSIXHSKX #I WISH I had a decent excerpt to share #bc like I know EXACTLY how I want it to be I just... haven’t written it yet lmao #I’ve got a nice alana and jared scene I really like #and a connor and jared scene where they kind of have an uneasy truce for a moment #but idk if that scene will stay in the fic #but other than that I’ve barely written anything for this because its still very much a work in progress #in terms of figuring out the plot #zoe writes #deh #connor murphy #evan hansen #jared kleinman #heidi hansen #deh wips prompt #answered

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