#took all of forever but i am proud regardless

[thousandth-island]

Wdym this isn’t what happened

[romanoffsbish]

Affirmations

Natasha Romanoff x R (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Trauma (Red Room) | Sources say you might cry.

Healing—well that’s a family affair, 🥹💕 | WC: 2,618

Heavy at times, but super hurt / comfort — fluffy vibes. Probably the sweetest fic I have ever written tbh

"I am smart," your daughter repeated with a grin, eyes hopeful for some reassurance. "You are so smart and."

"I am kind," she remembered, and you beamed, not even needing to speak the next one either. All you could do was place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

———

"I a-am b-b-beautiful," she stuttered, then she took a calming breath before going on, voice a lot more steady this time as she softly said, "and deserving of love." Her gaze was however focused on your face, you smiled then gently twisted her head until she was solely staring at her reflection, she flashed you a nervous smile. "Again baby, but this time try to mean it."

Arabella nodded, "I am beautiful," her voice held a soft veil of conviction, "and I deserve forever love."

"Now all at once," you gently commanded, a proud smile on your face for encouragement. Arabella matched your confidence as she did as you instructed, then she turned and jumped into your unfolding arms.

"Always remember your worth love, people in this world will try to tell you otherwise but if you hold onto your heart you'll never perceive their lies as truth."

Natasha had watched the entire sequence from the moment you entered the house with the crying child. Her best friend Darla had dropped her for a popular girl who just transferred to their school, and in the process of doing so she called your daughter ugly.

When she heard the words leave Arabella's trembling lips she nearly left on another mission, but she chose instead to do what she does best, spy from doorways.

It amazed her just how quickly you were able to bring your daughter back to herself. To instill in her a sense of confidence and love that many kids only dreamed of. Natasha felt a brief flash of envy trying to consume her when she saw herself amongst the crowd of unloved. Then she really looked at you both and rebuked the notion, that was then, she needed to focus on the now.

"Oh look," you gasped to alert your daughter to the guest you'd locked eyes with through the mirror. Your wife flashed you a smile that spoke of guilt and hope. "Mama has been watching us this whole time."

Natasha saw the traces of sorrow in your eyes but she moved passed the need to talk it out as she stumbled forward and settled into the both of your open arms.

"How long did you know you'd be home today?" The redhead shrugged and mumbled, "Only a few hours."

It wasn't a lie, you'd walked in only minutes after her, unaware that she had made it home days before she was expected to. The redhead never knew exactly when a mission would end as the bulk of them came with sliding timeframes based on multiple factors.

It wasn't her fault that a standard two week mission only takes her one, but you hated it regardless of how true her reasoning was. The impromptu nature of the arrival always made it impossible for you to tend to her. Which wouldn't bother you as much if she wasn't going out of her way to stop you from doing it.

As she pulled away from the embrace she saw you were about to offer her assistance but she was saved by the tiny girl in your arms who yawned. On days like today, when your daughter was emotionally drained, she was ready to go to sleep before you could prepare dinner.

"I'll be okay detka," she pressed a kiss to your lips then pulled Arabella from your arms for a proper embrace.

"I missed you," she yawned while melting into her mama's chest. "I missed you too sweetheart."

"Night mama," she pressed a sweet kiss to Natasha's nose then rotated back into your arms. "Sweet dreams princess, I'll see you in the morning for cartoons."

Once your daughter's smiling face was out of sight Natasha's smile fell along with her shoulders. The mission she went on was only over so soon because of the total catastrophe it became. Tiny miscalculations on the bases end led to her team evacuating the wrong building, then by the time she knew it was too late.

You knew it was best to give her time to herself, so after you prepared a snack for your daughter and got her settled into bed you began to clean the house. Ears perked up to the sounds above, and after three long hours you finally sighed in relief as the water shut off.

Natasha had zoned out after the conditioner washed out of her hair, she stood there beneath the freezing cold water in a daze until she felt her tired body sway. Once she got out she tended to her wounds, some of which were already healing and that infuriated her.

Why should she be able to walk away with her life?

When her hollowed eyes met their reflection she sighed, and she tried to remember her therapists words, "survivors guilt is natural, but don't listen to the temptation, you have a family who needs you too..."

Natasha could feel the darkness creeping in though, so she decided she would try her hand at your method.

"You are smart," she tried to mimic your earlier words, but it left a bitter taste on her tongue. If she were, then the intel she received would've never mattered, if she truly had the power to be a hero she would've known.

The next phrases were followed by the same self deprecating thoughts. What good were kindness and beauty when you were meant to be a ruthless soldier? It was in her DNA to be efficient, yet she failed. It was like her mind split in two as she muttered, "you are a monster," with clear disgust and overwhelming anger.

Then she stumbled back and shook her head, "n-no." Her mind ran wild with memories of her youth, "I-I didn't have a choice," she whimpered, and that was when you knew it was time for you to step in for her.

"Stand up Natalia," you firmly commanded and the redhead fell in line in seconds. It broke your heart but you knew you needed to be strong; firm in tone and command so she'd mean what she was about to say.

"Repeat after me," you steadily spoke, "I am not bad."

Natasha repeated it but her gaze was far away.

"I am not a bad person," you rephrased, and just like before she struggled to say it with any feelings. You sighed, "I'm not a monster." Her body stiffened, which was odd as she'd already been stood straight as a board. This time, she refused to repeat the words.

Natasha never lied, and that broke your heart, but you didn't falter in pushing her towards owed forgiveness.

"I am human," you paused, "not marble." You felt the way her spine slightly slumped as she repeated your words with a hardly noticeable, but never for you, shaky voice. You noticed everything and that was how you knew your beloved wife was about to have a real breakthrough on the never ending road to healing.

You smiled softly as her eyes finally met yours, the both of yours glistened beneath the blinding bathroom lights. Hers were merely glazed, but yours were pooling in the corners as you spoke, hopefully speaking directly to her soul. "So I'm allowed to break."

"Oh god," she cried, hands clutching the marbled sink as she had to keep herself from collapsing. You were prepared for her to fall so you had wrapped your arm around her waist, spun her then pulled her into an abrupt hug. Trying to calm her nervous system and to shield her sobs for the sake of your sleeping daughter.

"It's okay my love," you tried to reassure her but she shook her head and only sobbed harder. You took the queue then to focus on physical reassurances instead. Holding her even tighter and kissing her face, usually atop of her cheekbone to catch the fresh tears, a silent way to tell her that you'd take her pain if you could.

Natasha felt even guiltier when she caught on. "I-I couldn't save them all," she confessed into the cotton of your shirt, body shuffling in vain because there was no way possible she could get any closer to you.

"You were alone?" She shook her head and you soon hummed, "then why do you shoulder all of the blame?"

"I'm an Avenger—I was the one in charge, and..."

"You are human."

"I am enhanced..."

"Enhanced metabolic rates doesn't mean you had the ability to save them all, and we both know you don't need me to tell you that Natasha. You are brilliant."

Before she could continue to bicker with you she was stopped by your lips pressing hers shut. Natasha melted into your sweet touch. No matter the case you were always gentle with her, even when she wasn't with you. If she was angry and shouting you'd quiet her with a kiss like this, you were patient and rarely yelled back.

It's what helps her to become better for the sake of your daughter. As she processed her feelings, some for the very first time, you only ever offered her patience. You were the light at the end of her tunnel, giving her everything that she could ever dream of and more.

"I-I," she really wanted to take you on but she was too tired to fight against the warmth of your love. Her body once again melted into yours and everything felt like it was settled, but the peace of mind was short lived.

"Mama, are you okay?" Arabella sniffled from your bed, and the both of you looked up to see her crying. "Baby, what are you doing here and out of your bed?"

You coaxed your wife to keep calm as you firmly held her hands so she could still feel you there while your attention was focused elsewhere. "I heard a scream and thought there was a monster next door. I was coming to get mama so that she could fight it off for me."

Natasha squeezed your hands and sat up to face her, uncaring that her face was a mess of irritated, red splotches. On the journey to wellness it is important that you don't hide the process from your loved ones.

They can only understand you if you show them...

"Come here honey," Natasha called out to her and she immediately shuffled over and into your lap, her eyes were stern as she stared into your wife's broken pair.

"Mama needs to remember her worth," she huffed to you directly and you refrained from chuckling in her face as she looked like she meant business. "Yeah, I suppose she does—are you up to lead her through it?"

Arabella nodded her head then stood, pulling Natasha off of the ground and right over to the mirror. You left them to their moment and slipped off to the kitchen.

When you got back to the room with the tray of snacks you nearly melted into a puddle. Your daughter was sat on the counter, her tiny hands cupped around her mother's face as she told her even more phrases, it was as if she knew exactly what Natasha needed to hear.

"You are brave," then she paused so her mom could say it back. It continued on, the two in their own world as you watched your wives heart mending in real time.

"You're an Avenger," she spoke with a soft smile that only grew as her mom teasingly groaned the words.

"You're my hero," she beamed, "my super mama."

"Oh wow," she huffed shakily, "I love you so much."

"I love you even more than the Barbie movie mama."

Natasha chuckled, "wow, I must be special." Your daughter innocently nodded and you watched as Nat pulled Arabella up and into a tight hug, one of her arms loosened as she approached you without even looking up, you didn't hesitate to slip into her hold. "My greatest loves, you fit perfectly in my arms..."

The three of you remained in a tight embrace for a total of five minutes before your intuition was proved right. Natasha's stomach roared, then Arabella's followed.

"On the bed, pick a movie while I clean up some."

Natasha handed your daughter the remote then went on her nightly patrol, her hand never too far from a hidden weapon—just in case. Once she knew the lot of you were safe she grabbed the drinks you had left on the counter and returned to join you both in bed.

Arabella happily took the chilled capri sun from her hands then reached into the snack pile for a cookie.

"We are watching Encanto," she cheered and your wife fell into your unoccupied side with a hushed groan. "You and I both know she'll be out in twenty, then you can turn on Moonraker and I can finally sleep."

Natasha pinched your side but you only chuckled, and in about fifteen minutes time you had proved her right.

Your wife watched as your daughter, in the depths of her sleep climbed atop of your body and settled down. It warmed her heart to see the love that your daughter expressed even without the need for consciousness. She pressed a kiss to her cheek then moved to hover her face above your stilled one, waiting for you to bite.

Hook, line and sinker—it only took seven seconds for your eyes to crack open and your lips to perk up. The woman gently kissed your lips and if the both of you didn't desperately need to sleep she'd have continued.

Natasha's kisses lowered, pressing down your jaw until she could feel your racing pulse as she settled her face into the crook of your neck, where she slept the most.

With the tv playing on mute you found yourself drifting off as the flashes of light brought you a weird peace. You were settling into it just fine, "Y/N?" then you were being startled. Your entire body shivered as her rasp tickled the thin skin of your neck, once she kissed you in apology you found it in you to urge her on.

"You are the most beautiful partner I could have ever been blessed with—your love is the atlas of my hope."

"That was a really dramatic way to tell me you love me," you teased, voice grumbly as you fought sleep.

"Goodnight," she groaned and you giggled, "Your love is the atlas of my hope too Natty; I adore you, truly."

The redhead nipped your neck in retaliation but it was a ruse as her hand intertwined with yours atop of your daughter's back, nestled beneath the fluffy blanket.

Healing was a process that Natasha never expected to occur in her lifetime, with the blood in her ledger she always thought she was undeserving. Then there you were, at the ready to wash her hands clean in your personal oasis of understanding and righteousness.

Natalia Romanova was a victim of her circumstances, built only to lay waste to entire regimes, her story however was the greatest one to topple. All because she met a couple of people who saw her heart. Natasha Romanoff was a woman who was painfully reborn, whose entire purpose now lay beside her, at peace.

"I am not a monster," she finally repeated, just after you slipped off to sleep. "I am worthy of this love."

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[envysparkler]

AO3 Wrapped (Writer's Edition)

How many words have you written this year?  246,800

How many works did you publish this year? 13

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?  m.i.a. I loved writing Jason's silly (and smart) goons.

What work of yours has the most hits?  with crimson hands.*

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?  This is recent, so it's fresh in my mind: fine print. It was like pulling teeth to write it, and I wasn't expecting to get a big response.

Favorite title you used?  beware the patient woman.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?  I believe only the above is a song lyric title this year and it's from A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?  Tim Drake & Jason Todd, as usual.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?  I enjoyed writing Dick & Jason, especially in what's in a name.

What work was the quickest to write?  All of them languish for long periods of time in between writing an outline/first scene, but I think I wrote the rest of fine print in an afternoon.

What work took you the longest to write?  with crimson hands took forever because I had no idea where I was going with it.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?  Uhhh, I plead the fifth.

What’s your longest work of the year?  leash.*

What’s your shortest work of the year?  beware the patient woman.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Published? None, though I'm thinking about adding an extra chapter to unrefusable offer.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?  Whump.

Your favorite character to write this year?  Surprisingly, Dick Grayson. I don't know what this says about my sibling issues.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?  Timmy. My characterization of him is in flux at the moment.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?  Probably write more Dick & Jason.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?  with crimson hands, because it took so long to write.

How many kudos in total did you get this year?  59,425

Which work has the most comments?  m.i.a.*

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Sadly, no.

Did you write any gifts this year?  Yup! A birthday gift, and two exchange fics.

Did you receive any gifts this year?  Yup, 4!

What’s your most common category?  Gen.

What do you listen to while writing?  Nothing, unless I'm writing a longfic, those usually get a playlist.

Favorite work you wrote this year? I had a lot of fun with as you wish.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?  There is a famous saying—misattributed and mistranslated—that claims if you wait long enough by the river, you will see the corpses of your enemies float by.  They don’t mention that you have to destroy the dam first. I love this bit, and am still sad that no one appears to have caught the implication.

Biggest surprise while writing this year?  That people apparently like my fight scenes, even though to me, it's a fight to get them on the page.

*Ignoring Batcellanea, which is a behemoth that has destroyed my stats permanently.

[ave09]

i do

indiana jones x reader

note: i haven’t been to a wedding since i was seven, which was almost ten years ago so i honestly don’t remember how everything goes but i tried my best! 

“nervous?”

“me? nervous, please.” 

lies. 

indiana jones was extremely anxious. he’d felt perfectly fine until the moment he arrived at the altar. he couldn’t help but think about you.

he was an extremely spontaneous guy, always leaving at the possibility of a new artifact needing to be found. what if you got cold feet? what if you decided that being with him

was too much of a hassle? 

he shook his head lightly, pushing the thoughts away. you wouldn’t do this to him… would you?

“indiana, you’re sweating.” marcus pointed out. his hazel eyes fell upon the man beside him, narrowing, “maybe i am a little nervous.” he muttered. the older man let out a laugh, “don’t worry, indy, i was just as nervous on my wedding day.” 

the tall man licked his lips, his throat becoming dry. “i don’t know why, marcus.” 

“it is wedding day jitters, i assure you.” indiana scratched at his chin, a habit he’d picked up when anxiety struck, “it’s not just that…”

marcus’ eyes widened, his voice lowering to a hushed whisper, “don’t tell me you’re having cold feet.” 

indiana shook his head rapidly, “oh no! hell no! i’m worried that she’s having cold feet.” and from there, the man began rambling, “i mean, i’m a spontaneous guy. i’m gone a lot, i’m cocky, too proud for my own good, and sometimes really annoying, what if she-“

his friend placed his hands upon indiana’s shoulders, causing the man’s rambling to be cut short, “indy. listen to me. are you listening?”

he nodded.

“that woman has been through hell and high water with you. she goes with you on your endeavors, and even when she cannot, she is always supportive. and about all those other excuses you told me-everyone has their flaws. and she loves you regardless. i have never seen a woman, not even my wife, care and love someone like she loves you. so get that in your thick skull, indy, that woman would do anything for you. and i’ll tell you this right now, in a few minutes, she’s going to walk down that aisle, and you will forget all your worries.” 

indiana’s lips quirked slightly, “remind me to come to you next time i need a pep talk.” 

“i’m always here, indiana, don’t ever forget it.” 

overwhelmed with a newfound happiness, indiana’s worries began to slip away just as the wedding began to start. the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle, smiling all the while. 

then came shorty, who was dressed all nice and spiffy, with his yankees cap topping off the look. he’d originally been asked to be the ring bearer, but has proceeded to ask if he could be ‘the flower boy’ and how could you say no to his adorable face?

the boy sent indiana a wide grin as he threw pink rose petals  down the aisle. he took his place in the front pew on the groom side. then the wedding march began. 

and the nerves kicked in. 

indiana had yet to see you, he’d tried to convince you do to a first look, but you were a stickler for the old rule “it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

he was sure you looked absolutely gorgeous. you always looked gorgeous. 

but when those doors opened, indiana jones was fairly certain he’d fallen in love all over again.

you were stunning, a goddess, clad in a beautiful white gown. never in those moment had you looked more beautiful. 

and then you smiled, and the stoic man felt tears sting his eyes. something about this finally happening struck a cord, and the man who was usually in check of his emotions wanted nothing more then to weep tears of joy. 

he expected your walk down the aisle to take forever, he wished it could so he could admire you more in this moment. but you quickly stood before him, your father pecking your cheek lightly before shaking indiana’s hand. he retreated to his seat as you passed your bouquet to your maid of honor.

you then turned to face indiana, “hi.” you whispered, beaming with joy. “hi.” he replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right then and there, “you look beautiful.” 

“you don’t look to bad yourself.” 

“ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today..”

— — —

the vows came quicker then expected, and indiana’s palms began to sweat. you and him had agreed to write your own vows.

and despite him working as a professor, when it came to putting his feelings into words, the man struggled. hell, it had taken him months to even realize that he truly did have feelings for you, and it took him dad to long to actually ask you to go out to dinner with him.

indiana cleared his throat, reaching into his breast pocket, retrieving a folded up piece of paper. exhaling deeply, he retrieved his round spectacles, but then paused, glancing at the paper in front of him. he pursed his lips, before placing them both into his pocket again. 

“uh-i’m not the best with words, but,” he glanced at you, smiling softly, “i remember the exact moment i first met you. it was pouring rain, and you were walking from the parking lot to marshall college for your first day as a english professor. you had forgotten your umbrella that day, you were new to the weather in connecticut, and i remember-“ he paused, chuckling lightly, “you practically sprinted towards me, in heels nonetheless, and asked me if you could walk with me under my umbrella. and from there, a beautiful friendship formed.” 

he paused, gazing at you. there is so much he wanted to say about you, and was trying his best to keep it short and sweet. 

“late night talks turned into dates at your favorite diner, and we then turned that friendship into a relationship… and… i can wholeheartedly say that i can’t remember when i realized i was in love with you, because i believe i had loved you since the moment i met you in that parking lot.” 

“you have been with me through thick and thin, through all my crazy adventures. and i love you, more then anything.  you are everything a man could ever want in a wife and i am so honored that i am here marrying you now.” 

you choked back a sob. this was all you ever wanted. to marry indiana, to live a long amazing life with him. and now you would. 

it was then your turn, and you had been unable to write anything down when you’d sat down all those months ago trying to come up with the exact words to say.

but now, you knew precisely what needed to be said.

“indy. you are everything to me. since the moment you let me use that umbrella, i knew you would become a huge part of my life, and i think it’s safe to say you have.”

“you are an amazing man, and you inspire me everyday. you’ve saved me multiple times, from physical dangers and the torments of my own mind, you are always there no matter what. you bring me so much joy, and i would be lost without you.” 

the man smiled, and you noticed how glossy his hazel eyes were. 

continuing on, you said, “i truly am the luckiest woman alive, for i have found someone who treats me like i am the most precious treasure in the world, indiana jones, you make me a better person everyday, i love you so much, and i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life.”

a single tear slipped down his cheek, you lifted your hand, brushing it away, smiling at him. 

the wedding continued on. 

“do you, henry walton jones jr, take (f/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

indiana nodded, “i do.” he stated, slipping the silver diamond ring onto your ring finger. 

“and do you, (f/n) (l/n), take henry walton  jones jr to be your lawfully wedded husband?” you glanced down at shorty who held the other ring, taking notice of his tear-streaked face. you patted his shoulder comfortingly, taking the other ring. “i do.” carefully, you slid the band onto indiana’s ring finger.

“now, by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you, husband and wife. you may kiss the bride.” 

indiana took a step forward, his large hands cupping your face, the cool metal of the wedding ring sending chills down your spines, your hands rested upon his shoulders as he brought his lips to yours, sealing the deal.

you were now officially mrs. indiana jones. and you couldn’t be happier. 

[aliasimagines]

'86 baby // eddie munson

word count: 752

warnings: swearing?

a/n:. i named the unnamed guy from hellfire Andy.

You stand at the ceremony, Dustin on your left, Wayne on your right. You can't help but held back your breath as you search through the crowd with a quick glance.

There's some music playing somewhere in the background but it's overruled by the excited chatter and the cracking of the bad microphone. The  man stood on the stage, looking at the paper in his hand, opening his mouth, then he looked down and took a second glance at the paper before finally saying the name the three of you've been waiting for.

"Edward Munson!"

You see a mop of curly brown hair emerge from the rows. Eddie takes a few theatrical bows before running up the stage and snatching the diploma out of Principal Higgins' hand.

Dustin started giggling. "He really did it."

"He said he would. It's his year." you both smile at that just as Eddie raises his diploma up with both hands.

"Thank you Hawkins High! You were a great crowd. Hope you aaaalll rot in hell!" he lets go of the diploma with one hand just to 'flip the bird' to the principal with his poked out tongue. You hear the guys from Hellfire yelling, whistling and clapping so you and Dustin and Mike from across the room where he stands with his family, all join in. You see Wayne shaking his head, but he starts clapping too while laughing quietly. Eddie bows once more with a huge grin on his face. He does a weird dance before jumping off the stage and practically bouncing towards all of you.

"I'm proud of you, kid." Wayne says and Eddie lounges himself at his uncle, pulling him into a hug. The man seems taken back, but quickly wraps his arms tightly around Eddie. 

"Thanks, Wayne."

You stare at them, a fond smile on your lips. Eddie hugs Dustin too, but not before messing up his curly hair and playfully punching his shoulder. He steps to you, last, cupping your face in his hands, his rings cold against your cheeks. He looks at you with such admiration. 

''Thank you for sticking with me all the way through."

"Of course, baby. I love you." 

Eddie captures your lips with his. He moves slowly, the kiss is gentle and loving. Dustin groans beside you and the two of you pull away giggling. You tuck a few wild strands of hair behind Eddie's ear. 

 You gaze into each other's eyes, the fact that you are in the crowded cafeteria of the school completely forgotten. All you can think about is how much you are in love with the man in front of you. And that you are forever lost in those big beautiful brown eyes of his. 

And Eddie? He fears that one day his heart is just gonna explode from all the love he has for you. You, who didn’t care that he failed his senior year, twice, who didn’t care about the rumors about him, who was never afraid to be seen with the towns ‘freak’. Who loves him regardless of everything. 

Wayne clears his throat, pulling you back to reality. 

"So, kids, what do you say to a celebratory pizza, eh?"

Dustin starts cheering, before catching himself. 

"Wait, does that apply to me oor.." 

"Yeah, kid, it does apply to you too." says Eddie's uncle. In the meantime Jeff made his way over holding his diploma. 

"We did it!"

"Of course we did, my man!" 

"Can't believe you guys are leaving." Gareth says, popping out of nowhere with Andy by his aide. 

"You will have to carry on the legacy with Henderson and Wheeler. And come on, we still have Corroded Coffin.Now let’s go, we are having pizzaaa.” he yells not giving a fuck if he draws all the attention to himself. He doesn’t give a fuck about these people. Not anymore. He is done with high school for good.

While walking outside, Eddie pulls you to his side. 

“I just realized..I can’t tease you about dating a high schooler anymore.”

“Oh, poor you. I think you’ll figure out something new…Seriously though..I am so happy for you Eds. You should really be proud of yourself.”

“Ah.. give yourselves a little credit. I couldn't have done it without you guys. Without you. But yeah.. I- I am proud of myself. I did it. It took a while but.. I did it. And you know why?” he turns to you with a smirk. “Cause it’s my year, ‘86 baby!”

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Satisified (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes x CEO Omega Female Reader

Summary: You've been in love with James Barnes for... forever, it seems like. For the past two years of his marriage to your sister, you've been repressing your romantic feelings towards him because he's married. You'd never hurt your sister like that. 

But after she passes away suddenly, James leaves. Leaving you alone and giving you a position of wealth that you never wanted. 

Four years later, you're trying your best to keep things together until James barges back into your life. To his surprise though, you want to get married. You want to settle down, regardless if you love your future partner or not. 

And James... well... he doesn't quite know how to feel about it.

Not really.

Chapter Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, angst, discussions of children and marriage.

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the small hiatus. I took a small vacation in LA and some family stuff came up. But, here I am back with the new chapter! I hope this makes up for my absence!

As always, if you'd like to support this chapter on AO3, you can do so here.

Word Count: 5,160

A little later, at the party with you…

You never really liked going to parties.

Any extravagant social events, really.

However, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, observing your current fit for the night⎯ you couldn’t help but be lowkey kinda proud of yourself.

Your crimson red dress was on point.

Your makeup was on point.

Really, you were proud.

Plus, your parents were going to be here. Some tiny part of you wanted to go; to be there so they wouldn’t be alone.

Almost thirty years old, and you were still a people pleaser.

At least that hadn’t changed at all. Somewhere deep inside you, that was a comforting feeling.

At least that part of you was still there, even after all these years.

The women’s bathroom was empty. The party barely started, so you were left with some privacy to yourself before things got crazier. Your Omega wasn’t really fond of all the partying. It was too loud. Too many people. All the scents were going to get mixed up and it was going to officially give her whiplash.

No thank you.

Clearly irritated with everything and anything; she sunk back down, laying in her cage in the back of your mind.

She was going to be peaceful.

For now.

With that embedded in your mind, you finally mustered up the courage to leave the women’s bathroom.

If you were gonna be totally honest, it hadn’t been a shabby bathroom. The bathroom had a waiting room with two long couches, a huge gold mirror with vintage details, and the bathroom behind it that was separated by the door.

The bathroom was bigger, with six stalls and six sinks. And like every rich person out there, it was minimalistic with marble granite countertops for the sinks.

The loud chatter of people engaging in conversation alerted you to why you were here.

Charity galas.

You did them once a month. Mostly to raise money, and unfortunately, as a result, see other depraved rich people try and pretend that they actually gave a shit about poor people and “doing it out of the goodness of their hearts.”

You called bullshit.

Either way, you reminded yourself to keep your head up. It would be the only thing that would keep you sane.

As you weaved through the crowd, people who you couldn’t recognize, or maybe their names didn’t pop into your head at that very second; you finally made your way to the refreshment table.

When you were younger and your parents brought you to these types of parties with Dot, you’d escape to the refreshment and snack table. She was much more social than you, often talking to other politicians, heirs, heiresses, or any other rich person.

Somehow, you had an inkling feeling that people still compared you to your sister. Tabloids did it. Your parents did it sometimes. Other people who you grew up with within your social class did it too. Especially after Dot’s death; the comparison came back.

You hated it.

You hated everything.

You were so tired.

Running your parent’s empire got easier as the years had gone on. You could even admit you enjoyed running the company your own way. It was something you had gotten used to in the past four years.

Recently however, talk started.

You were an Omega. An unbonded, unmatted Omega. You knew if your parents were more determined, they would’ve written up a Bondmate Contract and you would’ve been locked into a marriage with an Alpha you didn’t know. Forget love.

Love was fucking dead.

You had loved once. And look where that got you!

Dot and James had been the luckier ones in your elite circle. They had fallen in love out of their own volition and had been happy together. Of course, that didn’t mean an Alpha and an Omega in a Bondmate Contract couldn’t learn to love each other. Steve Rogers and his Omega were prime examples of love coming from an arranged union.

Your mother suggested to you last month since your thirtieth birthday had come and gone, that maybe it was time for you to begin to start looking for a potential Alpha to settle down with.

You told her you’d consider it.

But now though, you were really starting to ponder it. Surely, you could find some nice, boring rich Alpha to settle down with? Someone who would leave you to your own devices but still; you could be somewhat comfortable enough to be with?

That could be possible, right?

It was what you thought about as you grabbed a glass of lemonade, sipping at it while grabbing a small plate so you could stock up on snacks. Picking up the tongs, you loaded your plate up and resigned yourself to the edge of the huge ballroom that had been converted into the charity gala tonight.

Now you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Munching happily on your snacks and drinking your lemonade, you politely greeted people as they passed by if they caught a glimpse of you.

For the first time in a while, you felt safe.

For the first time in a while, you felt as if you could finally let your shoulders loose and breathe.

For the first time in a while, you admitted that you didn’t feel like it was such a burden, seeing all the sympathetic looks thrown your way whenever someone whispered about James not being here.

For the first time in a while, you admitted that you didn’t miss James all that much. That feeling of hurt that bloomed in your chest that twisted and turned when you thought about him was lighter these days.

And then, as if the universe wanted to torture you once more; the doors opened.

And you saw it.

Familiar blue eyes and that head of chestnut brown hair that you’d never forget.

That familiar feeling of hurt bloomed in your chest. And it twisted and turned.

No.

No. No. No.

No.

He didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t want to come here.

He had been gallivanting around Europe for the past four years, trying to find himself after the death of his wife.

Some might have called it running away from his problems.

He liked to call it soul-searching.

But whatever people liked to call it, he was back now.

From the looks of it, not much had changed since he wrote the letter and basically fled the country. People were still the same. Everything still looked the same.

… except you.

James Buchanan Barnes, possibly for the first time ever in his life ever since he left you looked at you.

Actually looked at you.

He was aware and all-knowing of your wallflower behavior. You didn’t like crowds, and you also weren’t fond of socializing. So he wasn’t at all surprised when he found you standing at the edge of the ballroom that had been converted into the party space tonight.

But he was surprised at your attire tonight. Makeup was evident on your face, and while he knew you and makeup were civil, he was more surprised at your dress. Mostly ardently, the color of your dress.

Had you always worn red?

The crimson red dress you wore for this occasion had a v-neckline, but it didn’t go too deep to expose your cleavage. James knew it was Versace right away. He could just tell.

You always had better luck with Versace than any other high-end luxury store.

Already, James could hear the hushed whispers. He could see the staring. The prying eyes. However, he paid them no heed.

As he always did.

Like he was a king, the people made room. They parted, so he could have space to walk over to where you were. Like an insipid wallflower in your younger days, hiding at the edge of rooms wishing time ticked by faster; so you could go home quicker.

He was almost like a god, the way he commanded a presence without making himself known. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to raise his voice. People just flocked to him like a bee drawn to flower nectar.

Your eyes remained empty when he finally caught sight of your eyes.

It made him rear back a little in surprise.

Surely, you’d be happy to see him? You had always been happy to see him.

“You didn’t cut your hair,” you said as your form of greeting.

A hand reached to tuck his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. “No,” he chuckled.

“Seems things didn’t change for you. You still look the same,” you spoke breezily, popping another one of your snacks on your plate in your mouth.

And he did still look the same. The tall, broad-shouldered Alpha still had the same golden-hour tanned skin, the twinkling crystal blue eyes, and the shiny chestnut brown hair that looked thick and fluffy. Hell, he was still wearing the same color as always.

Black.

“And you’re wearing red. Have you always worn red?” He replied to you, his face full of amusement.

“I don’t know Sasha, have you always decided to run away from your problems?”

His face dropped.

“You know why I had to do it,” came from him a low growl.

“Did I?” You countered, tilting your head to the side in sarcasm. “Sorry, must’ve missed the memo. Maybe next time when I’m thinking about fleeing the country and I’ll just leave you a note too.”

A deep growl of warning came from the Alpha. Your Omega snarled within you, baring her teeth at the Alpha she had treasured for the longest time.

Undeterred, you took another gulp of your lemonade. Still glaring daggers at him. When you stepped an inch closer to him, before deciding fuck it; and moved so you could be inches away from his face, something within his cold mask exterior cracked a little.

You quite literally put the fear of God in him when you looked at him with those cold eyes.

“I spent four years cleaning up after your goddamn mess,” you told him in a low voice. You didn’t really care if you were looking bitchy right now. You just didn’t give a shit anymore. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your parents rushing over to you. That didn’t stop you to continue to dish it out to him, right in his face.

“... so don’t come here and expect me to just pretend like nothing ever happened. Go smile and primp to people who are stupider than me.”

Your mother pulled you away from your brother-in-law, whispering something hastily in your ear. You didn’t catch it.

Or maybe you just didn’t want to hear it.

Too many of the old feelings you had toward James bubbled up to the surface again.

Anger. Resentment. Grief. Sadness. Longing.

Those emotions pushed themselves to the forefront like you were doing a stage play. They were all coming full circle.

You just didn’t care.

You didn’t care anymore.

After the party, with you…

You were still pissed.

You had managed to control your temper, only occasionally glaring at James throughout the night.

You tried your best to avoid him, even ignoring the pang of hurt that appeared in your chest every time you locked eyes with him.

Were you being a little petty? Yeah. You were. You could totally admit that you were being petty, the way you snarked at him and acted the way you did.

You felt as if you were going to snap if he walked up to you. And it seemed your parents knew this because they tried their damndest to keep the two of you apart from each other.

To their luck, you didn’t snap at anyone. Or him, for that matter. Which was a win in their book.

Your mother being an Omega while your father being an Alpha made you even secretly hope for a love match. Call it what you wanted, but you wanted that too. You just wanted to be happy back then.

Of course, you accepted a long time ago that you would never get the happy ending you wanted with James. It had been a hard pill to swallow when they had been married, but it had fully solidified when he had left after the funeral. Your dreams of genuinely falling in love crashed and burned when you finally accepted that for the foreseeable future, or possibly forever; he wasn’t coming back.

It was a gruesome thing to accept in your heart, but you had accepted it. You had made peace with it a long time ago.

But when you had laid eyes on him every time you did earlier that night, every romantic push you felt towards him came back. Like you were in a trance and you couldn’t pull yourself out of it.

God, sometimes you fucking hated Alphas. You couldn’t kill them, and you couldn’t live with them.

Later, after the charity gala ended and most of the patrons had gone home; you stayed behind. Your parents had bidded you goodnight and told you to get home safe before they went home. You had made sure everything had been cleaned up and taken care of before you gave the servers and the security guards a little bit of extra payment, and walked to your car.

As you walked to your car, you thought that you were alone.

It was cold. A little bit windy too. Luckily for you, you remembered to pack a jacket. With your jacket keeping you warm, you breathed out, fogging up the space in front of you.

Hearing footsteps coming toward you made you turn around a little.

When you saw who it was, your eyes narrowed dangerously. A familiar whiff of an oceany, musky scent filled your senses. Your Omega sat, perched. She even eyed the incoming Alpha with a smidge of disdain.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, even when James joined you on the sidewalk in front of the building.

“... I sold the penthouse.”

That caught your attention. You were at the very least, surprised at his admission.

“Why?” You questioned him, confused.

James wasn’t smiling. He looked far away almost. Lost in his own thoughts and memories. It just reminded you of how different both of you were now.

“Do you know why I just packed up and left the country without telling anyone?”

Oh, and now he was changing the subject.

How wonderful.

“... because everything reminded me of her. Everywhere I went, everywhere I looked. Dot was always there. Sometimes, I thought I could still see her. Like her ghost was haunting me. I was so sick and tired of having people come up to me and talk about her. I got sick and tired of people telling me over and over about how sad that felt for me. They didn’t know her like we did. They didn’t know how much it hurt.”

They didn’t know her like we did.

We.

Not I. Not me.

We.

“... so I just decided I needed to get away. That this⎯” he gestured all around you, even to the streets, “... that this was too much for me. I just needed to… get away.”

“And so you dumped everything on my lap.” You theorized. “It wasn’t like that,” came his protest.

“Then what the hell was it, James?!” You exclaimed to him. “You weren’t the only one suffering! We all were! I get that you needed space! I’m just mad you didn’t even bother telling me!”

Your shout made him jerk back. You were looking at him with such a sorrowful, pained expression that it ate away at him.

The guilt.

“I needed you,” he admitted in a hoarse voice. You hadn’t even thought about how much the emotions were getting to the both of you. In the dim light of the moon and the twinkling stars in the sky, you saw how tears pricked at his eyes. They made his eyes look shiny and glassy. Like water rippling when the sun shined on it.

“I needed you and I couldn’t come to you. I didn’t know how. I thought⎯” he stopped for a second to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I thought that I could handle it on my own. But when it came to be too much, I…”

“You ran away. Because you couldn’t shoulder it by yourself.” Your soft tone made his head feel a little clearer.

“Sasha,” you whispered to him once the silence had stretched for a little too long.

The Alpha in question finally looked at you.

“I needed you, too,” you quietly confessed to him. “But I couldn’t be your sister-in-law. I needed my own time to mourn. Not to be given the company. To have all of this weight on my shoulders.”

James didn’t say anything. You didn’t really expect him to.

Mostly because his eyes did all of the talking that he wasn’t able to.

“I’m not saying I don’t forgive you. I don’t.” You said finally after a while. “I didn’t even apologize,” he pointed out. You just shrugged. “Just in case you decide to give an apology later,” you supplied.

For the first time in a long while, you saw the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile.

You never thought you’d be on the receiving end of those smiles ever again.

That very next morning…

James woke up to see white walls.

For a moment there, he was confused about where he was. He felt groggy and tired. Befuddled, the dark-haired Alpha rose from the huge double bed in the guest room. His feet thudded against the hardwood floor, making thumping noises as he headed for his suitcase. After he changed into some fresh clothes, he heard a door open down the hallway.

You had also woken up and already washed your face and brushed your teeth. After putting on your skincare and sunblock, you scurried back into your room to change.

Today, considering it was the weekend, you were going to see your parents for lunch. You usually met up with your parents at least once a month at the max.

And when you closed your bedroom door, was when James stepped out of the guest room. A surprised look came over your face.

“Oh, you’re awake. The bathroom’s right next to your bedroom,” you told him shortly before your phone pinged. Distracted, you took your phone out of your pocket. Since you were currently preoccupied, this gave James a good eye to finally look at you. Your hair was up and tied, so it wouldn’t get in your face when you had done your skincare.

But what struck him the most was that you were still wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. And considering you weren’t wearing anything else under your tank top, he saw how your nipples peeked through.

It felt wrong.

He shouldn’t be looking at you like that. You had been his best friend. You were his sister-in-law. The number one person he had wished and wanted to seek out when the person who bound you two together had perished. He didn’t want to dishonor Dot’s memory like this.

“... yeah, so… no… no… no. That’s fine. Yeah, you can do that. Don’t hire Beck. You know what happened last time. I don’t care what Hammer says. You know he was in cahoots with Stane? And look where Stane ended up. In fucking jail. If anything, I should expose Beck for tax fraud so his ass ends up in jail.” You bitched, clearly on a roll. Your jaw was tensed up, and you looked about ready to throttle someone.

Your pheromones were giving off an intense whiff of your scent of peaches and cinnamon. It spiked up considerably. Your Omega herself was getting agitated.

Silent as a stealthy cat, he strode his way toward you and rubbed his wrist against the Gland on your wrist to calm you down.

Your toes curled. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The thick scent of an oceany, musky whiff entered your nose.

Touch you Jesus, James’s scent was always intense. He screamed Alpha.

“Yeah, yeah…” your mutters into the phone echoed in his ears once you caught your breath. You were nodding into your phone at whatever Peter was saying, making mental notes in your head as he rattled on. Peter was always a fast talker, but you somehow kept up with him. It was why his previous mentor Tony and he worked so well until the young Alpha made the decision to be your personal assistant.

“... okay, I’ll come to that meeting, don’t worry. And then my calendar is going to be full for this week, so you don’t have to worry about that… you should really take a vacation one of these days Peter, go to Universal Studios in California or something…” you said with a soft sigh, before nodding and speaking for a few more moments, and then you concluded the call.

“Who was that?”

You looked at James. Then, your face brightened. “Peter! He’s my personal assistant,” you informed the Alpha with a cheerful tone. “He’s a great young man. He graduated from MIT. Full scholarship and all. He’s just trying to get more experience before Tony steps down and Peter takes over his company.”

“I didn’t know Tony was stepping down.” James sounded confused.

“Tony’s been wanting to step down for a while,” you admitted to him. “Besides, Peter’s his protégé,” you explained to him.

“Oh.”

A slightly awkward silence loomed over the two of you before he nervously cleared his throat.

“Heading out today?” he asked politely.

You gave him a quick nod.

“Yes. I’m meeting up with my parents today for lunch.”

Another ping from your phone made your eyes dart back down to your hand. So did James.

“It’s just my mom,” you said with a sigh. Realizing that you still needed to fix your hair and do your makeup, you chose to turn around to head back into your room.

“You can come to lunch if you want. I can ask my parents. I don’t think they’d say no.” Your voice was heard as James stared at your back.

“Oh…” he blinked a little in surprise. “Yeah… that’s… fine.”

“Alright then.”

And then he saw you enter your room before the door closed, separating both of you.

Later…

“Darling, it’ll be fine. She and James will be here soon.”

Your father watched as your mother pulled out her phone once again for possibly the fifth time that afternoon. Seeing her unlock her iPhone with the face ID, she swiped through the chat. Endless messages from you to her were all she read as a way to pass the time.

From where they sat in the Italian restaurant that they chose for lunch, the sound of your mother typing away at her keyboard was all he heard for the next two minutes before her phone pinged. So did his.

It was a message from you.

We’ll be there soon.

“See?” Your mother heard her husband say to her. “They’ll be fine. They’ll be a few minutes late, but who cares? She’s never missed a day with us. You know that.”

She knew that. She did.

But the knowledge that her son-in-law, the same one that fled and basically dumped the entire company in your lap without even saying a “goodbye” still gave her a bitter taste in her mouth. It was very unpleasant.

So when you eventually came to the restaurant with James in tow beside you; it just didn’t feel the same. It didn’t give her that same feeling as greeting an old friend after a long time.

No.

Instead, it made her feel like she was seeing a ghost. Or like she was seeing someone who had become just another stranger in the crowd.

She said nothing when her husband greeted the Alpha, choosing to stay silent and only give James a nod as a form of greeting him.

You certainly noticed it. After you all got a table and chose what you wanted to eat, you silently announced that you were going to the bathroom to wash your hands. While giving your mother that look.

“I know you don’t really like him mom,” was what you said as you washed your hands, looking at her from the mirror. “... but can you just say at least some words to him? Like, I dunno… ask him about his travels or something. Even I haven’t asked him about that shit yet.”

She didn’t say anything at first. Just washed her hands and moved from the sink to the air dryer where she dried off her hands. It was only when you finished washing your hands, and dried off yours too; did she finally speak.

“I don’t hate him, dear.”

You paused from drying off your hands. But, you said nothing. A silent motion to let her continue.

“I’m angry at him. I’m angry that he left us without telling us anything. I’m angry that he left you the company and didn’t even warn you. Or even have the courtesy to even tell you. That’s what I’m angry about.”

Her words made you lift your hands from underneath the air dryer. She watched as you turned around, shaking your hands of any lingering water before you let out a sigh.

“I haven’t talked to him about it,” you confessed.

“I don’t know how to feel about it. But when I’m ready, I’ll… I’ll talk to him about it.”

Your mother didn’t miss the faraway look on your face.

But, she didn’t question it. Or bring it up.

“Come on.” she gave you a small smile.

“Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

James had been knee deep into his lasagna when your mother brought up the topic.

“So, dear…” your mother addressed you. Like James, you were also knee deep into your pasta dish. So you didn’t look up for a few seconds.

“Mhmm?” you said, your mouth still full of food. Giving her a nod, you encouraged her to keep talking.

“Have you been thinking about settling down?”

A choking noise interrupted you. Your eyes widening, you patted James’s back, helping him swallow the food that went down the wrong pipe.

Catching his breath, James offered an apologetic smile to your parents. You leaned into his ear to tell him to drink some of his water to help.

“Well…” you said, pursing your lips into a line. Pondering it. Thinking about it.

“I have… thought about it.” you said slowly, your fingers clenching around your fork a little tighter.

James couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

If he was going to be honest, he never really saw you as the type to settle down. Get a partner, maybe. He could very well imagine you being with another Alpha or Beta. An Omega was a maybe.

But settling down? Marrying? Having a pup? Having a Pack?

It baffled him. It confused him.

So when you spoke again, that weird gut-wrenching feeling submerged itself in his gut and didn’t leave.

“I think… I think I’ll start looking for someone. A harmless Alpha. I’ll have to think about getting off my medication too,” you let out a sigh, already feeling the incoming stress.

“Oh. That’s good, sweetheart.” Your mother and your father were smiling at you, while James couldn’t believe his ears.

Even after lunch was done and you and he bid your parents goodbye, the strange feeling still didn’t leave him.

When both of you returned back to the penthouse, you turned off your car and checked the rear mirror to check if the garage door was closed. The sounds of you taking off your seat belt and getting out of the car echoed in his ears. James sat in the passenger’s seat for a couple of seconds, gathering his thoughts. Eventually though, he followed your lead.

Leading him into the penthouse, you both got back up to the kitchen area. Stepping out of the elevator, the dark-haired Alpha finally spoke.

“You want to settle down?”

You stopped in your tracks. You did however; yeet your purse onto the kitchen island. It fell on the marbled countertop and tipped over like a sack of potatoes.

“I want pups,” was your answer.

“But that doesn’t answer the question,” he said, walking toward you. Letting out a sigh, you turned so you could look at him.

For the first time today, you felt bad for him. You saw how uncomfortable he was during the lunch meetup, and how he choked on his lunch when you confirmed your want to start a Pack.

“I think it does,” you responded back, your expression still the same.

“But you won’t love them.” He protested.

“What does love have to do with siring pups?”

Okay sure, in retrospect, your words might’ve been harsh. Cut throat.

But you’d grown dillsuioned with love. The only Alpha you had really loved was right in front of you.

And the Alpha in front of you exploded.

All of his feelings had flooded to the surface.

“It has everything to do with it!” His roar made you jerk back a little in surprise. You weren’t scared of him. You knew he’d never hurt you. James could be the evillest person in the world, and he’d still never lay a hand on you.

“Don’t you know what a bite on your gland means?” He continued, making you bare your teeth a little.

“Of course I know what it means!” You shouted back at him, starting to feel a little pissed off.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to be in love with the person! Not all of us are that fortunate, James!”

Just what the hell did that even mean?

Perplexed, James spoke your name.

You hadn’t even realized what you had said until it was too late. Your throat felt as if it was closing up. Anxiety crawled up your throat as you looked at him in horror.

Seeing the look on your face, he moved so he could embrace you.

“You’re in love, flower.” he breathed out, holding you close.

“It⎯” you choked out, refraining from crying hysterically.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said through your sobs.

“Yes it does,” he whispered in your ear. His oceancy scent keeping you upfront. Stable.

“I just need someone stable. Someone boring. Someone basic.”

“But,” James said in protest, however seeing you shake your head quieted him.

“I’m not like you, James. I can’t afford love. I want to start a family. This’ll be good for everyone.”

James didn’t like those words.

He didn’t like them one bit.

“Fine. I’ll help you. I’ll help you find a nice, helpless, boring Alpha. It’s what you deserve.”

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Fic Taglist: @sebsgirl71479, @thegirlnextdoorssister, @cjand10, @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

[thyandrawrites]

Can I just say how proud of dabi i am just think about it your whole life someone underestimates you, he was against not only shoto but also a whole group of pro heroes fighting all alone and people celebrated him "losing" only for him to stand up moments later having mastered a move that took him only seeing once and his intuition is so strong he got the hang of it immidiately he is so talented wish this was nurtured instead of neglected he could have been out there doing great things

same. His skills are outstanding, and I'll forever be sad that no one recognized his potential. Still, I find it pretty inspiring that he always bet on himself regardless of the (lack of) support he received. He might not be in a good place mentally right now, but the way he honed those skills and perfected them without anyone helping him along is less the result of an obsession imho and more a sign of his talent. Like, he has great instincts and keen intellect. Without them he could've trained for years without reaching his current skills levels imho. If only someone saw that in time, he might not have spiralled quite so hard, and he'd be in a better place now. But even if no one ever does, I'll still be proud of him for seeing worth in Todoroki Touya and giving him the chance everyone else refused to

[isweartheyregayyourhonor]

if i could hold you for a minute

Note: AO3 is having an aneurysm right now, so I am posting it here as a backup, just in case. <3

Chapter 1: my tears, your fears amaze me

When she was younger, Lydia had always adored the idea that there was someone out there just for her. A soulmate. As an only child, she was lonely growing up, but she wasn’t destined to be forever. One day she would find her soulmate and never have to be alone ever again. Regardless of her mother’s chastisement, she was relentless in her search. She scoured every park they visited, looking for any sign, no matter how impossible, that would reveal him to her. Soon, she became impatient, desperate. Despite her mother’s loud protests, she began drawing all over her arms in vibrant, angry colors. She would hide them with a coat before running around the playground looking for her marks on another’s skin. 

Eventually, Lydia’s mother tired of fighting her schemes. Her pleas to her daughter to just wait went ignored. She watched hollowly from afar, anticipating the crash that would come when it all proved fruitless. But one day that changed. Her daughter was busy playing in a sandbox when she spotted her. From across the park, a little girl with brunette curls and piercing blue eyes was staring at Lydia curiously. Her mother appeared to be doting on her, ensuring her hair was flawless and her dress did not have any wrinkles on it. She seemed caring and proud. Up until she saw the way her daughter was looking at Lydia. Suddenly, the woman’s expression morphed into one of shame and it flushed an enraged red. 

She reached down to grasp the girl’s arm harshly. In that very moment, it all made sense to Lydia’s mother. Because when she looked back at Lydia’s own arm, she saw the same design. Red carnations. And she knew. She knew. She had always said that her daughter would be special. And more than anything, she wanted her to be happy. Maybe, if she just spoke cordially with the other mother…

But the other girl and her mother were gone. When she went around asking after them, she was always told that one only needed to look at the daughter, Cynthia, to know what happened. Sure enough, she was completely different. Her hair was cropped short, her dress was exchanged with overalls, and the sparkle in her eyes was absent. Mrs. Zdunowski must have abandoned her family.

Slowly, Lydia lost hope that she would ever find her soulmate. Her mother watched sadly as her little girl became reserved and quiet. But it would do her no good if she pressed too harshly about it. Life had gotten busy and she no longer had extra time for her baby girl. For now, she could only cross her fingers and hope that it would work out. Cynthia seemed like a good girl, even if she seemed to be getting in with the wrong crowd. Surely, like almost all soulmate bonds, they would be brought together by destiny at the right time. 

Then, she wouldn’t have to worry about Lydia’s happiness anymore; there would be someone to help her bear the weight. 

Lydia resented the idea of soulmates with a passion unmatched by her dislike of most things. Her classmates were obsessed with them, always running around and boasting about them like they are symbols of status. For years, she had given everything she was into finding her soulmate. When she learned how to write she took to leaving at least one message on her skin everyday without fail. But she never got any response. It broke her heart when her first mark was a reminder they wrote to themself to buy a new wrench.

Their sacred bond was represented by their shared skin. And all her soulmate cared to use it for was a shopping list. She had spent years perfecting her handwriting, wanting it to look beautiful on her soulmate’s skin. But their writing was damn near impossible to read. She cried herself to sleep that night, her mind consumed by the fact that she was nothing to her other half. 

So, she began wearing long sleeves almost everyday to hide it. To convince herself, just for a moment, that she is loved. That she will go home to find something lovely and romantic waiting for her. She learned how to lie to hide the hurt, to keep her mother from fretting over her. And she found that she was talented at it. This lead to her joining the thespians and becoming queen of the drama club. Somehow she could live her truth in a fantastical lie. With any other face, she could pine without consequence and fall in love without getting hurt. 

Which brought her here: wallowing away in drama class while the others ran lines that she had memorized weeks ago. Absentmindedly, she took her favorite red pen and doodled across her arm. For the first time in years, she felt the chill of her soulmate across her skin. Wide-eyed and terrified, she could only gape as other doodles joined hers. Her flowers grew stems and butterflies appeared above them. The quality of her soulmate’s drawing surprised her, considering how shaky their handwriting is. She watched in silence as two words she had always wanted to hear from them appeared. 

I’m sorry. 

Admittedly, it took her several minutes to digest the words. To take them in her palms, dissect them, and gently piece them back together. She had been ignored, disrespected, and so goddamn alone. It had cut her so deeply, but in this moment, her heart begged for her to forgive. She had always longed for this, for them. And maybe they could make amends. After what felt like forever, only one question came to mind. 

Why?

Instead of a written explanation, a wave of emotion crashed into her. She could see herself as a little girl, her hair pulled into pigtails and her hands buried in sand. But all she could focus on were the flowers splayed across her arm. Red carnations. The very same that she had recreated today. Almost more consuming than her own shock was the feeling of grief. All she could process was overwhelming confusion and anger that radiated through their bond. The vision slowly faded away and the feelings took over.

Because she didn’t love me enough to stay. Its taken time for me to realize that you don’t get a choice in this either. 

Rage welled up inside of Lydia at this. Who was her soulmate so in love with that they would just push her away entirely? Hot tears rolled down her face as the ink on her skin dulled. Was her soulmate so desperate to be rid of her that they washed her words off immediately?

I’m sorry, but no one can know. 

Lydia did not write her daily message for a week before the resounding silence made her cave. She threw herself into her craft, trying to mend the hole in her heart that had been so viciously torn. Sometimes she would wake up and find little drawings on her skin. Resentfully, she made an agreement with them to only leave marks in spots hidden by clothes. For the first time in years she wore short sleeves and reveled in the freedom that it allowed her heart. Her soulmate was there, but her body was her own. 

Ever since their first conversation, she began feeling glimpses of emotions that were not her own. They were almost always negative and accompanied by echoes of laughter. When she managed to ask them about it, they told her that it was to cope with everything. That making jokes took the edge off of the hurt they felt. Other times she felt bursts of joy and energy. But to her soulmate, she was a constant ache. When asked, they simply told her to take care of herself. It took awhile to get used to, but she managed. 

Until one day, it happened again. She was grabbing something from her locker when shock washed over her and she froze in place. Because they were here. She could see herself through their eyes. Anticipation welled up inside of her and she looked around for them. But all that answered her was her soulmate’s panic. The sound of their footsteps pounded in her ears. They were gone, and they weren’t going to respond to her frantic notes. 

Heartbroken, she begged for them to come see her. She pleaded with everything she had for anything at all. Their name, their time. Anything. For hours, she went ignored. Until finally, they said something. 

I am not the kind of person you want me to be. And no matter what I do, I never can be.

How would you know that?!?! Please.

I can’t tell you that. 

She could barely see as she tried to write and ignore the tears blocking her vision. She had been prepared to play the long game, but she couldn’t take this. Couldn’t accept that her soulmate was rejecting their bond without even knowing her. It didn’t matter who he was. It didn’t. If it was an issue with money, they could figure it out. But she couldn’t just give up before she had even tried. 

My name is Lydia. I’m in theatre club. And I love reading and writing more than anyone you’ve ever met. I live in a house in the Springfield Meadows. I’m an only child, but I have always longed for company. For you. I used to drag my mom to every park in the valley to try to find you. I would cover my arms with drawings in hopes that I would find them on your skin. I started leaving you notes from the moment I could write. You have been my biggest dream and consumed my life for years. My mother warned me not to, but I have always given you my heart, whether you knew it or not. I don’t care if you’re a Soc or a Greaser boy. I don’t care if you’re not going to inherit some family business or if you can’t afford flowers for our first date. 

I. Just. Want. You. 

Her soulmate’s silence was sharp, like a thousand knives cutting into her heart. This is what her mother had always warned her about. It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. She went home and cocooned herself in her bed, trying to block the world out. Her throat was tight with sobs that tore through her chest. She didn’t know how long she laid there, but eventually she heard her bedroom door open and felt a comforting hand on her back. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

Her mom was a bit absent, but she knew that she loved her. She showed it in little ways when she had time; a warm breakfast here, tickets to a play there. For so long, she had warned her about this. About the consequences of trying to force the soulmate issue. But she hadn’t fought with Lydia for long when she decided to do so anyway. And now that it had blown up in her face, she was still here for her. Through hiccoughs and choking on her own tears, she told her mom everything. 

“Oh, sweetheart. It will all be okay.” Arms were pulling her into an embrace, and Lydia felt herself melt into it. It was nice to be held in a moment when she felt so vulnerable. Eventually, they went downstairs for dinner and laid together on the couch to watch some TV. Her mother had fallen asleep an episode or two ago, and she herself was drifting off. 

The cold sensation was back, and it was quickly spreading across her thigh. She couldn’t help the squeak when she saw how long the response was. 

I can’t tell you my name, but it would be cruel to give you nothing in return. I really enjoy engineering and I work part-time at a mechanics shop. I live in an apartment a ways away from your neighborhood. Though I keep it a secret, I like theatre too. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but one of my favorite movies to see at the drive-in is Singing in The Rain. I have been tagging along with a gang since I was little, but I will never get to be an official member. I have known that you are my soulmate since that day at the park, and it terrifies me. I never expected to see you again. 

Forcing her lungs to expand, she took a deep breath. She took a moment to process it. All of those hours spent crying felt silly now. Her soulmate had probably been busy or was being thoughtful with how they responded. The words resonated with her, and she felt empathy bubbling up inside of her. Sure, these details were insubstantial on their own, but they were something. An olive branch. 

You’re scared. 

It wasn’t a question, not really. She already knew the answer, but she was desperate to form a connection with them. One that transcended their ability to mark her skin. This was the singular most important person in the world to her. She wanted to know them, to love them.

I’m scared. 

Can I ask you for something? 

I can’t promise you the world on a silver platter, but I will try. Shoot.

She knew that they would probably say no, that there was a reason for them to deny her this. But she had to ask. If she didn’t, she would regret it. 

I know that you said you can’t tell me your name. But I want to know you; we’re too connected for you to be just a stranger.

Okay.

Will you give me an opportunity to figure it out?

If you can put the details together, sure. But I know that you will not be looking in the right direction. 

But you’ll answer honestly? 

Yes, Lydia. I promise.

The use of her name sent a thrill down her spine and brought a small smile to her lips. Her mother would be so proud of her progress. She quietly got off the couch and tiptoed her way up the stairs to her bedroom. After a moment of shuffling through her desk drawers, she found an empty notebook. It had been a birthday gift that she had intended to write an original play in, but this was more important to her. Finding her soulmate would take work. And that meant laying out all of the clues and connecting the pieces. Quickly, she wrote down the most notable details that she had been given. Then, she took a small hand towel and wiped the writing on her thigh away. Taking a deep breath, she wrote her first question. 

What is your star sign?

Through their bond, she could feel their amusement. She could even hear the faint sound of it. It echoed as though it was coming from underwater, but the sound of their laughter was melodious. Lydia should have known better than to ask such a niche question right off the bat. 

Aries. 

When is your birthday? 

Woah, darling. You already used up your voucher for Question of the Day. Besides, that is much too specific.

Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Especially since they already knew who she was, so she didn’t have to feel anxious about making a good first impression. 

Maybe this would work out after all. 

Lydia woke up exhausted, having stayed up super late ‘talking’ with her soulmate. When she woke up, her mother was gone off the couch, so she decided she would tell her all about it that evening. Hope fueled her that day and she found that she felt worlds lighter. Even Mr. Vaughan commented on it when her performance in theatre was even more perfect than usual.

It all came crashing down when she felt a warmth erupting on her calf. Panicking, she excused herself to the bathroom and immediately rolled up her pants. Her skin was on fire, and she could feel skin blistering. But the injury was not her own. Through their bond, she felt the pain and embarrassment of her soulmate. Abruptly, the emotion cut off. A couple inches away from the spot on her leg, her soulmate was writing. 

I’m okay. Just a little burn. Sorry for scaring you. 

Somehow the apathy was worse.

Why the hell are you apologizing? You just hurt yourself!

It’s okay. I made a rookie mistake and didn’t notice that my leg was touching the exhaust. I will be alright. The red on your skin should go away within 30 minutes. 

How would you know? 

You do realize that you have hurt yourself before, too, right?

She didn’t think about it that way. But her soulmate was right; she had gotten injured several times in the past. She felt horrified at the thought of how many times they had to feel her pain. How did they keep themself from writing to make sure she was okay?

Don't worry about it. 

So are you in shop class right now?

Er, yes and no. Technically, I am skipping housekeeping class. Ignore that, I can’t tell you. Anyway, I snuck in to be with my friends. No one expects me to stay in that other class; I never actually go. McGee doesn’t even scold me over it anymore.

It shocked Lydia that her soulmate had made that mistake. But she was also impressed by how quickly they caught it. She had a feeling that they were a Greaser anyway, so she wasn’t all that surprised that they were skipping class. But there was also an intelligence to them that she believed the T-Birds lacked.

I am guessing this has to do with the secret you can’t tell me? 

Yeah. 

Well, you’re definitely not a Soc if you’re skipping class to get your hands dirty. 

You have no idea. I am the complete opposite of a Soc. But I’m not quite a Greaser, either. I don’t exactly fit in anywhere, actually. 

Can I ask you my Question of the Day now?

Sure thing. 

What is your favorite food?

Yogurt. Lots and lots of yogurt. 

One more question?

Fine. But just because I scared you. I could feel your heart racing. 

I thought you were seriously hurt. Sue me. Now, what’s your favorite color? 

Now you’ve crossed the line. That is way too personal. 

Ha. Ha. Please? 

Fine, it’s red.

Smiling, Lydia pulled her pant leg back down and returned to class. The details may seem insignificant now, but they would be worth writing down later. When she walked into the auditorium, everyone gave her weird looks, but she brushed off their concern. Arthur and Floyd were extremely suspicious, and if their glares were anything to go by, she was going to be interrogated after class was over. Great.

It was hard for her to focus the rest of the school day. She constantly found herself looking around at her classmates, wondering who it could possibly be. But every time she thought she figured it out, she would see a mark on his arm that she didn’t make.

Sure enough, Floyd and Arthur caught up to her on her way out of Rydell. They flanked her and silently followed her to her car. She could feel their stare, but tried to ignore it until it was unavoidable. When they finally reached the car she genuinely considered hopping in and speeding away. But even that was a little bit too dramatic for her. 

Once he and Floyd had settled into the backseat, where they could hold hands out of view, Arthur leaned forward and questioned her. “So, how’s that search for your soulmate going, Lyd? Care to share what you were smiling about earlier with the class?”

She started the ignition, using the noise as an excuse to take a minute to figure out what she was going to say. She didn’t want to outright lie to her best friends, but she wasn’t ready to commit to telling them. For years they had listened to her rants about how stupid it all was, soulmates and destiny. What would they think of her now?

”I told you that I’m not looking for my soulmate anymore.” Only half true; she wasn’t looking yet because she didn’t have enough information. 

Arthur scoffed and Floyd took over. “Lydia, we know that’s bullshit. Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“I don’t know, Floyd! Do you really think I would keep something that huge from you guys?” Their silence stung like a spoken accusation. “Okay, that’s offensive. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. You have been my best friends for years.”

It was quiet for a moment as she made a turn to head towards the Frosty Palace. They never explicitly mentioned going there, but it was a safe bet. They always sat in the same corner to chat, but they usually came on Fridays instead of Tuesdays. 

“Then what’s up with you constantly smiling at your arm? Or frantically running out of practice today? You never miss practice for anything.” The questions came in a flurry, and she didn’t bother to try to deny anything. 

“My soulmate apologized. We’ve been chatting for a couple of days. I ran out of class earlier because he hurt his leg.” 

Her friends gasped dramatically. “Who is this stud?”

She winced at the phrase; she just could not possibly imagine calling them that. They were sweet, if a bit mischievous and a joker. “Please, for the love of god, do not call him that. It does not fit him at all, and you’re actually going to make me puke.”

Their conversation became a lot more casual and Lydia found herself opening up a little bit. She thanked her lucky stars that they were receptive about her not knowing who he was and that she couldn’t keep pressuring him. But they seemed consumed by the thrill of the chase. 

“What do you know so far? Can we be in your wedding? Is he our age? Oh, please tell me he isn’t that creepy janitor. Is he rich?” The questions poured out of them, overlapping as they both talked at almost the same time. It was overwhelming, but she found herself laughing at their antics. She had missed this. Over milkshakes they agreed to help her find them. All she had to do was buy their fries. 

They began pointing out guys that seemed interested in her and that matched what little description they had to go off. Lydia found herself looking twice at almost every guy in the hallway, desperately hoping that the answer would just come to her naturally. The other drama kids expressed interest in their search, but she deflected every time they approached her.

This pattern continued for about a week until it began to drive her crazy. With every conversation she had with her soulmate, and with every question she asked, she felt even more lost. 

Their star sign is Aries; their favorite food is yogurt; their favorite color is red; their favorite movie is Singin’ in the Rain; they hate the color pink; they skip a class having to do with their secret; and they love engineering. Even knowing only the simplest information about them, Lydia found herself yearning to learn more. A part of her knew that it was the pull of destiny and not entirely of her free will, but she found that she didn’t care. 

As it happened, her soulmate was actually an incredibly likable person. They had a sense of humor that was endearing - if slightly immature - and surprisingly thoughtful. Though they insisted on their conversations remaining hidden, they encouraged conversation. Sometimes if she expressed that she was particularly stressed out, they would draw flowers and swirls on her thigh in an effort to bring comfort. One of these times they had jokingly left a little note that read, “flowers for my lady.” 

It had consumed her thoughts to the point where she didn’t even have the mental capacity to be stressed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, could see her flush in her little hand-held mirror. As an experiment, she had left a little thank you and addressed it to her “gentleman.” This went ignored by her soulmate, which made her a bit uneasy. But it went forgotten when they had written a joke on her shoulder some hours later.  All of the other thespians were ultimately fruitless in their investigation of her love life, as all of it remained hidden. She found herself oddly grateful that she had agreed to limit their communication to reasonably concealable locations. The only person who was not fooled was her mother, whom raised the occasional eyebrow. Lydia avoided her, which was easy, to evade the inevitable questions. 

She had come to terms with their arrangement, she had. It definitely didn’t bother her that she couldn’t have what other couples have. That she couldn’t meet him and his parents, go to the drive-in together, and just exist together. Every day since that fateful moment they responded the pull on her heart increased. She yearned. 

But they remained separated. When she pressed them for an explanation, they were intentionally vague and evasive. They held steadfast in their refusal to reveal themself, but she wore them down enough to give her more important details. 

My eyes are blue, my hair is brown. I’m a social outcast who doesn’t fit in anywhere. I’ve never been in love before, never kissed anyone. To be honest, I’ve never really wanted to. And that scares me. 

Her search was utterly useless though, as a number of boys at her school fit that description. But other than the nerds, who she was certain her soulmate wasn’t one of, all of them had kissed someone before. Or claimed they had, anyway. 

I am just trying to protect you, to protect the both of us. Once you know who I am, everything will change. 

Please tell me you aren’t a staff member or something. Now you’ve made me paranoid.

Of course not! That’s disgusting. We are the same age. 

Oh, thank God.

Please tell me you didn’t think I was some sicko. I may be dapper, but I am a spring chicken. 

If you keep using words such as “dapper” to refer to yourself, I just might. 

I will start drawing inappropriate doodles all over your arms in retaliation if you don’t take that back right this instant. Besides, you’re the theatre kid here; you should be accustomed to this language.

You wouldn’t dare. 

Try me, darling. I know you’re wearing short sleeves today, but I’m not. 

You’re so very dramatic. Are you sure you shouldn’t be a thespian, too?

Ha. Ha. Funny. I don’t think you would like putting up with me if I did. 

You should audition for the next play next week. 

You cannot possibly be serious right now. 

Please? Can you really bear to deny me anything?

Now I’m definitely not going. Besides, I have commitments that day; I’ve already looked. You wouldn’t recognize me even if I went, so I don’t see why it’s so important to you. 

I want to see you. 

Sorry.

The draw she felt to this faceless person was surprising, to say the least. Her heart raced at the thought of them and she was finding it progressively harder to hide. Especially when the gestures began. They were small, of course, but they meant everything to her. Once a week she would find a small little something in her locker waiting for her. A knickknack, a snack, a meticulously annotated script to a play she mentioned that she likes. 

The charm of it all had her swooning. Even if she couldn’t return the favor, it gave her hope that she would be able to hold their hand soon. In only a matter of months she had become obsessed again. But this time, it was real, it was tangible. All she had to do was find him. How hard could it be? With her heart beating for them, she was confident in her ability to know when she found him. 

A part of her still thought of her mother’s warning, of how it was a matter of time. That she should be patient and wait for the right moment. Soulmates were supposed to meet naturally and forcing it would only cause conflict. But it was too late. 

She had already fallen far too deep, and all that was left was for her to wait for the landing. 

Chapter 2: say that there’s nothing to worry about now

Cynthia had always known that she was abnormal, unapologetically different. When she was a little girl her mom used to pamper her like a doll. No matter how small her father’s paycheck got, she ensured that Cynthia was prim and polished. But the dresses never fit quite right and the curls didn’t suit her. Back then her mom’s love meant everything to her, so she didn’t voice her discomfort. She held back, conformed to the mold she was forced into. She buried her desire to play in mud with the boys, to take scissors to her hair, and to trade stockings for pants. As she got older, this led to burying her interest in mechanics, in pretending that she didn’t want to be just like her papa.

Her mother despised her soulmate, loathed the “unladylike” and “unflattering” marks bound to her skin. But the ink would remain until it was washed off by both of them. Turns out, her soulmate didn’t bathe everyday, and her mom hated that. Almost every single day she would watch as bright scribbles appeared all over her arms and her mom would curl her lip. She would never truly understand how special and important those drawings were to her daughter.

The most well-kept secret of their family was that her mom and papa weren’t soulmates at all. Her mother didn’t have one and papa’s had died in a car accident when they were teenagers. Sometimes she caught him tracing the now permanent swirls on his skin with a longing look in his eyes. These nights were always the worst, as she was kept awake by her parents’ screaming and fighting.

When they fought, she would secretly take a marker and add to her soulmate’s drawings, thinking about her own happy ending. She hoped they were quiet and kind like her papa, but she vowed that she would never argue with them like her mom. She would love and cherish them, and she would never let them feel alone. So, she savored the chill that washed over her every time her soulmate drew on their skin in secret. 

Eventually she was able to convince her mom to let her go to the park instead of staying in. This was a decision that she would regret for the rest of her life. When they got there she was surprised by how many girls had been allowed to wear pants and play in the sandbox. She could practically feel her mother’s disapproval radiating off of her. She began fretting over her daughter’s appearance, as if another mother might look and spread rumors about them at church over a single wrinkle. But her mother’s rising anger went unnoticed by Cynthia. All she saw was the pretty girl playing in the sand. She had grey-blue eyes and light brown waves pulled up into twin pigtails. She wore colorful overalls over a vibrant, eye-catching pink blouse. 

Once she could pull her eyes away from her face, she saw them. Red carnations. The scarlet flowers wrapped around her arms, stark and bright against pale skin. They swam in her vision as she slowly connected that they were the very same that her mother had desperately tried to scrub from her skin that morning. A spark lit in her chest and she felt her heart swell. This was her soulmate. This carefree girl with her hands buried in sand and a wide smile on her lips. 

Her trance was broken by a scandalized gasp and a punishing grip on her arm. Tears welled in her eyes at the burn and the disgust in her mom’s eyes. Shame hit her like a wave when she was dragged back to the apartment and her mother didn’t even look at her. As they left, Cynthia looked back at the girl and tried to commit every minuscule detail to memory. The shape of her lips, the swoop and curve of her nose. Those watercolor eyes and that toothy grin. Before she knew it, the girl was gone from her view. Instead, she had to face the hell that was about to break loose when they got home. 

That final night was by far the worst of them all. Her mom was cold in her dismissal, demanding that Cynthia go to her bedroom and that she not bother to come out for supper. The moment that her papa got home, the screaming started. It was so loud that she had to cover her ears, but the crashes still startled her. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she hid under the bed and shook with anticipation. She thought of her daddy’s bruises and the thin door separating her from their maker. The yelling lasted for hours and the hateful words rattled around in her skull. 

Deviant. Freak. Sinner. Disgrace. Demon.

The night ended with a loud slam of the front door. The silence that followed was deafening. Curled up in a ball, she whimpered in fear when the bedroom door cracked open. But instead of a raging monster, she was found by her exhausted father. His skin was red and angry, but his eyes were undoubtably kind. He beckoned her out from under the bed and held her as they cried together in relative silence. 

“She’s gone, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry; she can’t hurt you ever again.”

But she already did. Her last words would stick to Cynthia like a leech until the day she dies. 

”Why can’t she just be a normal girl for once?”

In the morning, her father left for work like nothing had happened, like nothing had even changed. Cynthia grabbed her backpack and raced out to the bus stop alone. An ache formed in her chest and tears escaped as she grieved in her mother’s absence. The pain didn’t go away, not completely. Especially when she was faced by her reflection in the mirror. 

All that she could see was her mother, in every feature she had except her eyes. She had her mother’s face, sans her permanent scowl, and her hair framed her face in the exact same way. It made her sick. Since she had left, her hair had fallen into disarray. Her father tried to help her brush it out, but he was never home enough to make sure it was maintained. At school, she was picked on relentlessly for it. Her horrid dresses had long since become wrinkled, and the other girls made sure she knew it. 

One day, she snapped. In the middle of the school day, she snuck into the bathroom with a pair of stolen scissors. She thought of her papa with his short cut and how strong he looked. She would much rather look like him. So, she took those scissors to the hair her mother loved so much and cut. She hacked at it, desperate for it to be gone, for her mother to be gone. And for the first time in her life she felt like her own person. When she went back to class, everyone got quiet and her teacher sent her to the principal’s office. She was ready for him to blow up on her, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a look of pity, sent her home, and called her dad. 

When he came home that night, he just smiled gently at her and pulled her into his bathroom. Taking his own scissors, he ruffled her hair and got to work. By the time he was done, she could look at herself and smile. She ignored all of the kids at school who belittled her for looking like a boy in his sister’s dress. 

After one particularly long weekend of overtime at the shop, her papa came home with a surprise for her. He had a box full of plaid skirts and men’s shirts. Even if they were hammy-downs, they filled her with an addicting euphoria. For once, she felt like herself. Her papa had her try on one of the nicer pairs of pants and a button-up shirt. He dug out a tie, showed her how to put it on, and stood with her in front of the mirror.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo. Your girl would have to be crazy not to find you handsome, dressed up as you are. You clean up nicely, kid.”

In that moment, she felt truly loved. 

Cynthia hated her soulmate. She hated how perfect her handwriting was, how smart she sounded when she wrote little notes about complex subjects on her arm. Ever since the writing began she had to wear long sleeves to hide it. There was something undeniably feminine about the masterful cursive. This seed grew into resentment that festered in her lonely heart. Her body grew, but she remained a child trapped inside of it. Scared, clawing for any scrap of affection. Most of the time, that affection was too far away to grasp.

She wasn’t naive. She knew that she would never truly be a T-Bird - or fit into any crowd, for that matter. She also knew that her mother wasn’t coming back. Despite all of the trauma and despair that came with the image of her, she still yearned for her. The bruises were so easy to overlook when she only sought the memories of motherly embraces. Because that’s what she was: a memory. She could bargain with herself, think about all the things she could have done differently, but it still would have led her to this point. No matter how much of herself she laid to rest, she couldn’t fight fate. Her soulmate was beyond her control, outside of her mother’s reach. She would never settle down with a nice, wealthy man. She would never live in one of the new houses with a picket fence, never raise a gaggle of children and watch them grow up.

Even if it wasn’t what she would have wanted, it was still something she had to give up. Just like her mom’s love. The marks she used to love so much turned to a sour taste in her mouth, their chill bitter rather than sweet. Whereas all of the other kids took their family for granted, the universe had traded hers for this. For stupid notes on her skin - usually corny quotes from romantic plays - and an empty apartment each night. 

She knew all about her soulmate already. Lydia. She knew her house number, knew who she would pal around with. But most of all, she knew that she was straight and that she, too, despised her soulmate. It was funny, really, that this girl hated her for her silence. All Cynthia wanted was for the other girl to be quiet. She could only imagine the strange girl’s reaction when she found out it was her. Lydia was quiet and cold, known for being the stony Queen of the Thespians. Bleh. 

Truthfully, Cynthia was just glad that she hadn’t run into her again since that day in the park. 

Her papa had long since given up on convincing her to just talk to her. He had become tired in the years since her mother had left. The weight of being both the sole breadwinner and single parent had taken its toll on him, worn him down. Her being independent was the only way to take some of the pressure from off his shoulders. Up until recently, they had long conversations about “her girl.” But when it came down to it, they had established a status quo. She would remain isolated from her soulmate and he would leave it alone. 

Until everything changed. She was in shop class with the boys when the dreaded chill erupted on the skin of her arm. Unlike the normal, sappy daily message that Lydia would leave, this one spanned down the entire length of her limb. It sent an electric fear down her spine, causing her to freeze and her muscles to tense up. Calling out a lame excuse, she stumbled out of the classroom and locked herself in the nearest bathroom. Panicked, she tore off her shop-issued jumpsuit to see what it was. Lydia hadn’t covered their shared skin like this in a long time. When her brain finally caught up with her eyes, she let out a pained laugh. 

Red carnations. Delicately drawn, a whole garden of them were appearing along her skin, stroke by stroke. She could feel her chest tighten with an emotion that she couldn’t place. The flowers brought her sorrow, reminding her of that day. Of an ignorant little girl falling in love with another. She remembered the joy she had felt when she saw those flowers on the other girl’s skin before it all came crashing down. That night after her mother left, they symbolized everything that she had lost. 

Before she could overthink or talk herself out of it, she reached for the marker behind her ear. With as much care as she could pour into it, she began to draw. Stems to support the flowers, butterflies to pollinate them. She could feel remorse building in her chest as she thought of that little girl. As she thought of Lydia growing up and leaving little messages to her soulmate, hoping that she would get a response. She thought of that little girl thinking about her soulmate daily and the vulnerability it took to put her heart on the line like that. For years. 

It wasn’t fair, none of this was. Not to her and certainly not to Lydia. She was probably in theatre class right now, dreaming up a life with a boy. Dreaming of a future that would be impossible for them to have together. Even if Lydia grew to love her, they would never be allowed to have that. To date, to get married, to grow old together. 

But pushing her away wouldn’t change any of that. Taking a deep breath, she dove headfirst into the unknown. 

I’m sorry. 

She should have known that this was a bad idea. But by now, she was in far too deep. When she had initially written those two words, she had no idea that she would be opening the door to this. To a connection that consumed too much of her, and just kept carving away at her resolve. 

She genuinely cared for Lydia, and that terrified her more than anything. 

Without anything being expected of her, she could be herself with her. She didn’t have to conform to the gender role she was assigned. Hell, Lydia was confident that she was a boy. It gave her an addicting kind of freedom. The other girl never criticized her, always laughed at her jokes. Or pretended to, at least. They had conversations late into the night, exchanging witty comments constantly. Sometimes when she said something just a little bit too flirtatious, she imagined Lydia blushing in the time that it took her to respond. 

Through her words, she had well and truly wormed her way into Cynthia’s heart and made a home there. For years, she had pushed her away entirely, but in the short amount of time they had been talking, they became close. So much so that sometimes she left guilty for keeping it a secret, for trying to protect Lydia. But then the thespian would make a comment about what she wanted to do when they finally met. She told her about how she wanted to have her own house just up the lane from her parents. Everything else that came with a cookie cutter life was implied. Imagining the girl’s reaction if she came clean scared Cynthia to the bone. 

She didn’t want to lose her. 

Despite all of her reservations, she felt the warmth in her chest growing everyday. She had had a soft spot for the girl ever since that day in the park. But now the ache she felt for her was much more acute. A part of her wanted to claw it out, to scratch at it until the weakness was gone. But she couldn’t. Like cancer, it had metastasized and taken over her entire being.

She hadn’t intended on becoming such a sap, but she found it hard to resist. She would find little trinkets that reminded her of her and they would find their way into her locker. She would go out of her way to find copies of the plays that Lydia liked and annotate them, thinking of her the entire time. It felt good to love, natural.

True to Lydia’s words, she really couldn’t deny her anything. She had known about the audition for weeks, but she couldn’t rationalize going. If she was truly committed to keeping her secret, she couldn’t risk that close of contact with her. But she wanted to, oh how she wanted to. So when she asked, she couldn’t say no. She also knew that she couldn’t say yes, either. 

So, she lied. She wrote some bogus excuse on her arm as she thought of what she should wear to the audition. As she thought of how she should act. The circle of thespians was tight, and she was sure that she would have to interact with Lydia at least once. She felt giddy at the thought of getting to talk to her, but she tried to curb that emotion. 

On the day of the audition for the play, she woke up feeling jittery and uncharacteristically anxious. She rushed to get dressed, throwing on her favorite shirt and nearly ripping her plaid skirt in her haste to get out the door. Stumbling through the house, she pocketed her comb in her sock and held a piece of bread between her teeth. She practically ran out of the apartment, frantically putting on her helmet and mounting her motorbike. Considering how much she had anticipated this day all week, one would think that she would wake up on time. 

Alas, here she was, running into her first period class just as the bell rang. McGee hadn’t even bothered to scold her this time, which was a wonder in and of itself. Edward gave her a curious look, but she brushed him off. After all, she had a script to read. To everyone’s surprise, Cynthia actually excelled in ELA. As their English teacher droned on and on about simple metaphors, she pulled out her copy of the play. She knew she would get away with it; even her teacher had given up on forcing her to pay attention. 

Romeo and Juliet. Lydia had complained all week about how trite it was. Personally, Cynthia did not like Shakespeare - which is exactly why she had refused to read it up until now. 

After only a couple of scenes, she had already drawn some important conclusions. For one, Romeo was an absolute idiot with no substance to him at all. He was whiny and self-pitying, throwing himself into wooing any living, breathing girl. Juliet was immature and depressed, ultimately allowing her mother to treat her like a doormat. Their romance was phony and insincere, seemingly fueled by rampant teenage hormones and nothing else. Their ‘mutual sacrifice’ thing was easily avoidable and reckless, having little behind it at all. Even though she had only skimmed the text, she found herself revolted by all of the main characters. 

By the end of the period, she had already decided on who she would try out for. Really, the role required very little range out of her. Mercutio was absolutely off-his-rocker nuts, prone to bouts of insanity. She found his character endearing and full of life - exactly who she wanted to play. 

The rest of the school day seemed to go on forever. Today she had to actually make an appearance in her housekeeping class if she wanted to pass and not have to take it again. Honestly, the amount of questionable Jellos she’s had to make should be a crime. Then it was math and science. By the time the last bell rang, she was exhausted. Still, she stopped by the bathroom to freshen up before the audition. Naturally, she kept going back and forth between combed hair and not. After one too many weird looks from other girls, she decided to run her hand through it and call it good. 

The auditorium was much quieter than she had been expecting, and when the door clicked closed loudly behind her, it went silent. As she walked towards the stage, she was met with incredulous stares from the thespians. Immediately, she regretted coming and seriously considered hightailing it out of there. But she had wanted to come and she wouldn’t let herself back down because of these strangers’ opinion of her. So, she took a deep breath and did what she did best - bullshit. 

“Howdy.” She put on a brave face and pretended to be confident. She straightened her posture and looked them all in the eye; she wasn’t going to back down now.

Suddenly, a voice came from right behind her, startling her and causing her to whip around like a crazed animal. “And who might you be?” 

Lydia. 

Shell shocked, Cynthia froze, her mouth gaping like a fish. She hadn’t expected her soulmate to just approach her directly like that. Taking another deep breath, she prepared to respond - just as another voice broke out from across the room. She turned towards it, desperately trying to ignore the stare burning into the back of her head. 

“Ah, you must be Cynthia! I saw you added your name to my list the other day. My name is Mr. Vaughan. I am so happy that you are here.” The drama teacher materialized and approached her with a gigantic smile and grasped her hand when she tried to give him a handshake. Vaguely, she heard a muted scoff from behind her. 

“Thanks, Mr. V.” Finally, he released her hand from his iron strong grasp, allowing her to shake the circulation back into it. She was truly grateful that he was giving her such a warm welcome. And for a moment it almost made up for the hostility and disdain coming from the other students. They clearly weren’t accustomed to outsiders. Even Floyd, a friendly face that she recognized from shop class, was avoiding eye contact. He had a change in his schedule a month or so back that put him in a different period for shop. But that didn’t make their acquaintanceship go away. Or at least, it didn’t in Cynthia’s mind. 

“Of course, dear. Now, what role were you wanting to go for?”

Right. Theatre, auditions. “I, uh, was planning on going for Mercutio.”

Though a few surprised gasps rang out, Mr. Vaughan didn’t even flinch. In fact, he didn’t even seem fazed in the slightest. “Alright, let us see what you’ve got, then.”

In Cynthia’s entirely unbiased opinion, the audition went pretty well. Having memorized the lines earlier in the day, she channeled all of her energy into her performance. Swinging a fake sword around, she felt absolutely ridiculous. It felt good. By the end of her turn, Mr. Vaughan was smiling and everyone else clapped politely. When she sat down, the thespians were no longer nearly as standoffish. A couple of them applauded her and she could feel the tension easing up. She even chatted with a handful of them.

Occasionally, she felt Lydia’s eyes on her, but she tried to ignore it. She didn’t know how to act, how to talk to her. She had been hiding behind the anonymity their bond allowed her for so long that she struggled to separate them. To separate her role as doting, charming soulmate and random girl looking to join theatre. She felt on edge, knowing that one slip up could ruin it all. Would ruin it all. It was absolutely essential that Lydia not figure it out. 

So, when the audition wrapped up and they were free to go, she got out of there as quickly as she could. When she got to the apartment, she was ecstatic to see that her papa was already home. Together, they made a quick frozen dinner and settled down on the couch to watch some television. Having put her pajamas on earlier, she didn’t even think about it as she began drawing on her thigh. After only a couple of minutes, she felt the chill of her soulmate drawing there too. 

Hey there. 

Hi. What are you doing right now?

Just watching TV with my pops. How were auditions?

They went alright. I was a little distracted, but I think I’ll still get the lead. I wish that you were there.

Distracted? You? Never. 

Lydia was struggling to pay attention more than ever. Though the auditions officially started right now, she and many of the other thespians had already done theirs. So, she thought it would be nice to run by her locker and grab a snack. To say that she was disappointed by the lack of gifts was an understatement, especially given her downtrodden mood. Her soulmate had warned her that they wouldn’t be coming, but she had held out hope. This time, the blame of that hope could only be pinned on her own damn heart.

When she had come back into the auditorium, she momentarily froze at the sight of someone unfamiliar. It was a brunette girl with short cropped hair, a smart black button-up, and a plaid skirt. She stood out like a sore thumb. She made up for how short she was in stature with the sheer confidence in her posture. Her chin was held high, and she stared at the thespians as though she was daring them to question her. But who was she? Lydia couldn’t remember having ever seen her before. 

“And who might you be?” The words were a surprise to both of them, but the other girl flinched and spun around. She seemed flighty, not unlike a little bird. Lydia almost felt bad for scaring her and made note not to approach her from behind ever again. 

This girl had the brightest blue eyes that she had ever seen. She hardly noticed that she hadn’t even responded. Then, out came Mr. Vaughan and she lost any chance of figuring this girl out. When he announced that auditions were officially about to begin, she took a seat next to Arthur and Floyd. 

Floyd seemed uncomfortable but didn’t offer any explanation. Though Lydia sat between them, Arthur reached behind her back to rest his hand comfortingly on the other boy’s shoulder. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, watching as the new girl got up on the stage. She fascinated her, with her vibrant attitude. It surprised her that Mr. Vaughan was allowing a girl to try out for Mercutio at all, but maybe… 

Her performance left Lydia gaping. Sure, the character wasn’t the most dynamic or challenging to play, but damn. As she swung around that stupid sword, she breathed life into the lines and made the character feel real. In that moment, she was a young man driven mad, rambling on and on in a way that begged he be institutionalized. By the end, Mr. Vaughan was grinning ear to ear. For once, even Lydia quietly joined in the applause. Secretly, she was glad that this girl wasn’t auditioning for Juliet. Leaning back, she whispered to her friends. 

“What do we know about her?” 

Arthur looked at her, a curious glint in his eyes that promised mischief. But when she glared and raised an eyebrow, he dropped the act. “I don’t know anything about her. Floyd, are you okay? Do you know anything?”

Turning to face her other friend, she found him looking away. She nudged him gently and waited for his answer. “Yeah… yeah. Sorry, I’m just distracted. The name’s Cynthia Zdunowski, she transferred recently. Her pops is the owner of the mechanics shop. Before my schedule changed, she was in my shop class. Not sure how she got in, though, because McGee doesn’t let girls into it. Seems the teachers give her extra leniency, though.” 

Huh. She wondered why, considering that this girl seemed super outspoken. She would expect her to be a troublemaker. After all, she came into auditions and shook up the norm on her first day. 

“Oh, isn’t she the one that pals around with the T-Birds?” Arthur whispered dramatically, as though it was the biggest piece of gossip yet. Floyd nodded, and they both looked at her, waiting for her to say something. Instead she was caught up staring at Cynthia’s profile. 

She imagined her in a T-Birds jacket, her hair combed back and gelled. In her mind, she saw her gallivanting around with the boys, acting like they were the coolest thing out there. She probably drove a motorcycle, drank her dad’s liquor, and smoked. It should disgust her. She had always despised juvenile delinquents who behaved like that. She had only been prepared to make an exception for her soulmate, if need be. 

But she wasn’t disgusted. She was intrigued. Ignoring her friend’s attempts at conversing with her, she tried to focus. She may have done her individual audition already, but there would still be callbacks. She had to be on her A game. Whatever strange obsession with this Cynthia - whom she hadn’t even spoken with before - that her brain had developed had to stop. 

It didn’t. Even after she stumbled during a chemistry read, she still found herself looking at the girl. Her features were sharp, nothing about her seemed delicate. Given her tough exterior, she was likely the most sensitive of them all inside. She sat with her legs spread like a boy shoved into a skirt against his free will. Her eyes flicked around the room like nervous prey in a forest packed full of predators. 

By the time auditions had wrapped up, she had made up her mind. She was determined to understand her. If Cynthia Zdunowski was a puzzle, she would be the one to solve it. She was sure of it. The first step in that plan would be to talk to her. So, she bore her friends a brief farewell and darted after the brunette. 

She was already on her motorcycle pulling out by the time Lydia made it out of the school door. Frustrated, she threw her stuff down and leaned on the wall, huffing. Something about talking to this greaser felt critical. And the quicker she got it over with, the less it would feel like a big deal in her mind. Right?

Alas, here she was, crossing her arms and waiting for Arthur and Floyd to meet her outside. It was tradition for the thespian troupe to meet up at Frosty’s post auditions. The only thing that she was looking forward to this time around was the promise of a milkshake. Her friends would have questions that she wouldn’t want to answer, but she couldn’t just bail on them. 

So, she decided that she would stomach it until her commitment was over. And, sure enough, that meant 10:30 pm - the latest that Arthur was able to stay out if they were going to make school-night curfew. After such a busy day and literal hours of entertaining conversation from other thespians, she was more than willing to sit back and jam out in the car. 

She didn’t even make it up to her bedroom that night, having decided to crash on the couch in the living room instead. She had just settled in for the night when a chill passed over her skin. 

Maybe talking to her soulmate would be a good way to keep her mind off of her new distraction. 

[sdwolfpup]

ao3 wrapped [writer's edition]

People are apparently doing this as an ask game, but I want to answer all of them so I'm gonna. 😄 But I'll save your dash and put it under a cut.

How many words have you written this year? I'm not sure honestly. Mostly because I worked a lot on two different WIPs, and wrote a LOT of words that either got deleted or are in unfinished stories that will never see the light of day. But doing a quick estimate based on what chapters I posted this year, POSTED amount of words is roughly 130,000.

How many works did you publish this year? I finished one WIP, worked on another, and posted 6 other shorter fics.

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? Gosh, I don't know. Tweets and Treats took a surprising amount of work, and I was really happy with how it turned out. And I'm really grateful I managed to land 2 Hot 2 Horny (with Brynn's invaluable help!).

What work of yours has the most hits? This year? 2 Hot 2 Horny, which makes sense. For fics only posted this year, All I Have To Offer You (Is Me).

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? The beauty of this mess (is that it brings me close to you). This was my first (and probably only) foray into HOTD fic fandom, and it was for Alicent/Rhaenyra which is not a super popular ship as far as I can tell (though I don't know why!!! HAVE YOU SEEN THEM INTERACT??). Anyway. People were very nice about it.

Favorite title you used: Even though it went way beyond what I first envisioned it as, I still think 2 Hot 2 Horny is funny. For fics posted this year only, probably All I Have To Offer You (Is Me), because its from a song forbiddenfantasies likes and is very appropriate for the story.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I am an equal opportunity lyrics user.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Jaime/Brienne, naturally.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? JB are always my favorite, but I also really enjoyed writing my two Ian/Poppy fics.

What work was the quickest to write? speak now (or forever hold your peace). I was possessed when I wrote that. It took a day. That's the fastest I've written something since 2020.

What work took you the longest to write? Considering I am still working on Our souls lie down in the grass, I'm gonna go with that one, heh.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? Whew. Too many. Our souls is the only one I'm currently posting, but fics I've started that I really want to finish? 6 or 7 at least.

What’s your longest work of the year? 2 Hot 2 Horny was 115k; for fics posted just this year, All I Have to Offer You is 27.5k.

What’s your shortest work of the year? Technically Tweets and Treats is only 8 words but there's a lot more than that in the images. :D Looks like Snack Drawer is it at 2615 words.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Our souls lie down in the grass. I've got a whole chapter written! I'm halfway through the next chapter! I'm gonna write at least one more and then start posting again.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Across ALL my works it's Alternate Universe - Modern Setting. Which fits.

Your favorite character to write this year? I really enjoyed writing Ygritte in 2h2h, and Jaime in Tweets and Treats, and Poppy in both MQ fics.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Genna in All I Have To Offer You. I wanted to make sure she was riding a very fine line between cruelty and kindness.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? I want to keep writing JB, and I'd really like to write another Poppy/Ian fic.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? From this year? Probably Tweets and Treats.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? Statistics say 3,627, but again that includes 2h2h and Our souls (and also A Job Lot of Junk since I posted a couple fics to that collection) which throws it all off. If I just do the ones posted this year, 1648.

Which work has the most comments? Again, 2h2h but if I take that one out, Tweets and Treats.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Sadly I did not. Though I talked to Brynn about 2h2h enough that she sort of helped me write it metaphorically.

Did you write any gifts this year? Yes! All I Have to Offer You was a birthday gift for forbiddenfantasies. 2h2h was from the summer exchange in 2021 for Naomignomie, and Our souls was from the festive exchange in 2020 for auntiesocial.

Did you receive any gifts this year? Yes. Pretty-thief wrote a Poppy/Ian fic for me and slips, someone made a cover for HFOG, and trelkez made a Poppy/Ian vid and dedicated it to me.

What’s your most common category? M/F

What do you listen to while writing? Whatever Spotify playlist I have put together for the fic, or the Study LoFi playlist.

Favorite work you wrote this year? Ooh...I honestly don't know. I really can't pick a favorite. They're my children!!

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? I have a couple, heh. I loved "I shouldn't kiss you in the winter when I'm leaving in the spring," from Our souls. And this bit from Poppy in Snack Drawer honestly makes me laugh every time: She pulled out one of his organic, non-GMO, soy yogurt cups. “You eat like an old man. Plain isn't a flavor, Ian. It's a cry for help." But for how difficult I found writing this year, I'm actually pretty happy with what I produced.

Biggest surprise while writing this year? How damned difficult it was? Heh. I'd been struggling in late 2021, too, but this year was (for me) a struggle. Every word feels like I had to carve it out of my skull slowly and meticulously, when for the first two years of JB fandom it flowed so quickly. Adjusting to my new normal has taken me all year, but I think I've found a slightly better rhythm and I've been able to write more regularly. (It helps that work has also slowed down in the last two weeks; work has eaten up a tremendous amount of my life this year in a way it had not the two years before.) I'm also surprised that I wrote a House of the Dragon fic! Did NOT see that coming. I wasn't even gonna watch the show at the beginning of the year.

[scattered-winter]

ao3 wrapped !!

I've seen a few people doing this and thought I'd jump on the train lmao

1: how many words have you written this year?

uh. um. 319,614 lmfaooo

2: how many works did you publish this year?

just 5!! it's been a slow posting year but I have a LOT of WIPs I was working on in the meantime lmao

3: what work are you most proud of, regardless of kudos/hits?

bound like quintenary stars, without a doubt. it's the largest scale project I've ever done, and it's really forced me to grow as a writer

4: what work of yours has the most hits?

hold onto me has over 15k hits which is still WILD to me lmfao. if only i could write an update to that thang. and if we're talking just this year, then it's buckley siblings and their terrible, awful, no good very bad first dates at almost 3k

5: favorite title you used?

DEFINITELY buckley siblings and their terrible, awful, no good very bad first dates. i read that book as a kid and i think i'm hilarious

6: what artist have you pulled lyrics from the most:

probably bastille. tbh

7: pairing that you wrote the most for this year:

buddie LMAO. of the 5 fics i posted this year, 3 of them are buddie. I'm not counting quintenary stars in this because as of right now it's still mostly genfic and the romance won't come in until much further down the line

8: favorite pairing you wrote for this year:

only a few people know this but I wrote a LOT of adashi. I'm working on a side piece for quintenary stars that focuses on them pre-kerberos, and there are also a handful of adashi-adjacent aus i've been working on including leverage, agents of shield, and rwby. i'm obsessed with them lowkey

9: what work was the quickest to write?

walking out into the dark, cutting out a different path, led by a beating heart was uh. well. i wrote it in a matter of hours in a haze of mental illness in between the promo for 911 s6e11 and the actual episode dropping later that night. for those of you who don't have the context, a character got struck by lightning and subsequently was lingering on the threshold of death in episode 10, and when the promo for 11 dropped we realized there was going to be a coma dream episode in which the character would experience what should have been his Perfect Life but without all the things that led him to where he was, he never would have had an impact on his friends and family, and there would have been disastrous consequences. I distinctly remember skipping out on an entire day of classes because I was writing this fic LMFAO. and to this day I'm still very proud of it. incredible things come from sheer insanity it seems

10: what work took you longest to write?

seeing as quintenary stars is still ongoing, I'll say you're such a heavenly view. i had just watched prince caspian (again) and was feeling insane (as per usual) but it still took FOREVER to get this thang finished </3

11: what's your longest fic of the year?

quintenary stars is currently sitting pretty on 221,491, making it my longest piece of writing ever. which is pretty cool and also kinda scary because bro. bro i have no idea where these words are coming from

12: what's your shortest fic of the year?

buckley siblings !! it was short and sweet. angst and whump. u guys know what i like

13: favorite character you wrote this year?

oogh...i LOVED writing peter's pov in you're such a heavenly view. i actually would love to write more narnia fic someday. and i also love writing in pidge's pov in quintenary stars she is LITERALLY just like me fr

14: what's one pairing you want to explore more next year?

HEITH. i'm not putting them in quintenary stars but BOY do i want to explore their dynamic. and i am also always down for more caspeter

15: how many kudos in total did you get this year?

579!!

16: which work has the most comments?

quintenary stars! which statistically makes sense to me because it's a multichapter and the others this year are oneshots. but the fic that has the most comments overall is hold onto me

17: did you do any collaborative works this year?

nothing posted on ao3, but there was a lot of collaboration going on behind the scenes! the voltron leverage au in particular is a pretty elaborate project @frigidboy and i are working on together, and he's also been my soundboard for a lot of quintenary stars stuff. I've also been collaborating with various members of The Groupchat (@dauntingday, @soleadita, @xandromedan, @moonlightperseus) on various ongoing projects and aus including but not limited to some rwby aus with day, red and 13 stuff with leo, COUNTLESS aus, ocs, and wips with mads, and some leverage stuff with abby. I've also made some zombie apocalypse ocs with @0xy--m0r0n. and there are probably more things I've collabed with people on but I FORGOR </3

18: what's your most common category?

gen and m/m !! I tend to lean more gen with just a touch of romance most of the time, but more often than not my oneshots will be more explicitly romance

19: what do you listen to while writing?

it varies, but most of the time it will be some kind of orchestral/instrumental music. I have a list of favorite compilations on youtube from hans zimmer and some other favorites that I rotate through, and I also have some playlists on spotify for when I'm not as picky. it also depends on what I'm writing at the time: if I'm writing quintenary stars, I will usually go straight to the voltron soundtrack (or other space sci fi like interstellar or gravity) just because I need a specific vibe. and if I'm writing a battle scene, sometimes I'll pull up another tab and put some space battle ambience over the music, too

20: favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oh god there are SO many favorites. but probably in the coma dream buck fic (walking out into the dark) when I used imagery to draw a connection to the Shooting Scene. like of all the literary things I've pulled over the years I think that one is hands down my favorite

"Shit's crazy here, man," Danny said as he stepped up to the sink beside Evan. "Did you know there was a sniper a few months ago? Some crazy cop was shooting firefighters out in the streets." A chill ran down Evan's spine, coldness settling in the bottom of his gut. Danny turned on the faucet. Water splashed in the bottom of the sink, flung up and out.  Droplets splattered across Evan's face. "Damn," Evan murmured, raising a shaking hand to wipe it away. "Was anyone killed?" "One was," Danny said offhandedly. "He got shot right after a call, middle of the street. Nobody even saw it coming.” Evan was shaking, all over his body. Danny just kept going, like he didn’t even notice. “His team was trapped by the sniper and by the time they got him pulled out, it was too late.” Stay there! I’m coming to you! “The news said his name was Diaz. Eddie Diaz." Evan dropped the plate he was holding. Shards of ceramic flew in every direction, pinpricks of pain prickling at his legs and bare feet. Gunshot in the street. Blood splattered on his face. Asphalt against his cheek. Are you hurt? "Evan?" Danny was looking at him, brows furrowed together. "Are you okay?" Evan swallowed, took in a shaky breath, nodded. He bent and began to gently gather the broken shards in his palm, but something made him pause. "Huh." "What?" Danny was looking at him like he was crazy. "I'm not bleeding." And he wasn't. His legs and feet were untouched; smooth, unmarred skin where only seconds before, he'd been so certain he'd felt cuts. "That's weird," Danny said, before shoving a broom in Evan's hands. "Your mess, your job. You get to finish the dishes."

overall that whole fic was just. probably some of my best work I think. I'm so proud of it fr

21: biggest surprise while writing this year?

i was NOT expecting quintenary stars to get as much engagement as it's been getting!! i feel like everyone's kinda trying to forget voltron ever existed (understandable) so i didn't think there would be much of an audience for it. but there is!!! and i love you guys!!!!!

TAGGING IF U WANNA DO THIS TOO: ppl i've already tagged above, plus @scorchedhearth, @ anyone else who wants to do it !! I'm so sorry I am totally blanking on mutuals/followers/friends who are also writers so if u see this and want to, consider urself tagged !!

[stillhavetodothat]

Replaying Nancy Drew without Cheating - Part 5: Secret of the Scarlet Hand

FINALLY! We have reached a game in which I can probably count on a single hand how many times I have replayed it!! A few days ago I sat down at my laptop, rolled my neck out, cracked my knuckles, and got ready to buckle down: I knew this was going to be the first challenge of my mission to replay all Nancy Drew games without cheating.

And spoiler alert. It was.

Let me start out by saying that I sleep on this game constantly. It’s like I forget it exists. For some reason, of all the games I bought and played as a kid, this is one game that was missing from the collection probably until I was an older teenager. I had played almost every game in the first 10 games many many times over before I even played this game once. As a kid, all the history bored me. Every single game has had some historical element to it (even if it was a made-up history), but for some reason this one just reeeeally stood out to me as extra educational. And I already felt bogged down by the amount of education I was receiving in my elementary classroom.

However, I would like to formally apologize to you, SSH, as you are interesting, fun, hilarious, tough at times, and a little bit dark. You’re everything a Nancy Drew game should be, and I am sorry for underappreciating you the past 20 years.

Was I extremely tempted to cheat in this game? Yes. Multiple times. So much so that I am actually impressed by my willpower, and I am actually very proud of myself for getting through it without a walkthrough FOR THE FIRST TIME EVAR!! Thank god for this blog which for some reason is making me feel held accountable, regardless of whether anyone reads any of it or not.

Here are all the times I was tempted to cheat. Many, many spoilers abound, obviously.

1. In the beginning of the game, when I had to find the addenda to the monolith loan agreement to bring to Alejandro del Rio. I searched for about 45 minutes, sprinting up and down the exhibition hall and up and down the temple steps, to find that damn loan addenda. I wanted to cheat, I NEEDED to cheat, but I gave it another few minutes and found a bench in the museum lobby that I had somehow never seen before. Eurrreka!

2. Looking for fucking Sonny Joon’s username and password. WHY?? WHY DID I SOMEHOW READ EVERY SINGLE OTHER THING ON HIS DISK BUT SOMEHOW MISS THE VERY EXPLICIT USERNAME AND PASSWORD WRITTEN RIGHT THERE?? Not me literally at the computer in the temple trying to guess Sonny’s username (sonnyjoon? sj? kokokringle?) with no success.

3. Trying to figure out HOW Topeka Commission of the Arts was associated with Beech Hill. I KNEW I had to somehow be triggered into contacting Prudence Rutherford (because who can forget a shrill phone contact with a very ambiguous accent?), but could not for the life of me figure out how. I read that magazine interview in Joanna’s office approximately 10 times and spent a small fortune on metro rides around the city of Washington DC before I clicked on the plaque outside of Joanna’s office. The funny thing was, I had clicked on the plaque on the OTHER side of the door at the beginning of the game, but since nothing happened I figured the other one was probably equally unimportant. This was the most frustrating one I think.

4. Speaking of phone contacts, the fact that you can only call Copper Canyon from the hotel and get a error tone every time you try at the museum is MADDENING. It took me forever to talk to Sheila because I could not get this concept into my head. I still can’t.

5. I stg I thought I was going to have to cheat once I was locked inside the monolith, because I have NEVER solved it on my own without a walkthrough. But it was actually not hard? WHY AM I SO LAZY?? At the very least, this project of mine is really teaching me that I need to be more patient.

Here are some other random thoughts on this game:

1. Taylor Sinclair is absolutely hysterical. He is an amazing culprit. Everything out of his mouth is an unexpected riot. He just seems...slippery. I can forgive that HerInteractive gave us the biggest bores in the world in Louis and Lisa, since they then delivered an insane, slightly demented old man who isn’t afraid to kidnap a teenage girl, and then an eccentric, small-mustachioed LUNATIC of an art dealer as the next two culprits. I just...chef’s kiss.

2. Because of how much I love Taylor, I am horribly disappointed that we can’t poke around his office when he runs out at the most convenient time for us to take something off the Poppy Dada piece. Also, why was he running out so suddenly? Was he about to shit his pants from those Oaxaca cookies? Is that the joke? Whatever that was, it was not very well fleshed out.

3. I wrote “spooky Maya” in looping cursive in my notes. Why?

4. Loved the storyline of Henrik van der Hune falling down the temple steps and losing his memory. Brilliant. Also loved seeing Henrik groaning and sprawled on the floor. Brilliant.

5. Is this why I had a crush on Henrik as a teenager? His vaguely sexual landing at the bottom of the pyramid? Why are my biggest Nancy Drew game crushes Dexter Egan and Henrik van der Hune? I am just as disturbed as you are, trust me.

6. Tell me why Her created that surreal maze puzzle on Louis’s laptop in MHM and thought it was such a good puzzle that they had to reuse it for this game?

7. I initially was praising the game devs for staying true to the layout of the city when building out their simplified DC metro map, until I realized that Beech Hill is located up in the northeast, near Fort Totten, but the museum’s address, according to the invoice in Joanna’s office, is in the SW quadrant. Hmmmmmm.

8. “Semper ubi sub ubi” means always wear underwear. I looked it up and I hate to say anything nice about Joanna Riggs but that is a good conversation sign-off.

9. The way I stalked that Shipping and Receiving room waiting for packages to arrive...it hit way too close to home.

10. What in god’s name was this ending?? I forgot how weird this is, these 3 showing up as soon as I get the monolith open. How long were they waiting  while I was struggling to breathe in that thing? They’re just standing there, all in a row, reciting some creepy rehearsed poem with shit-eating grins and unblinking stares on their faces. How long had they been planning this??

11. Taylor Sinclair’s face and him shouting “ConFOUND you, Nancy Drew!” while shaking his fist at the heavens almost makes up for it, though. Taylor Sinclair: the only culprit thus far willing to lock you in a prison of stone - with an ancient mummy forever frozen in a scream - with the full intention of letting you suffocate, starve to death, and not be found for literally hundreds of years. The gruesome scoundrel!

This game is fun. It was a nice surprise. There is a TON to do: it is challenging and there’s lots of snooping and puzzles to solve. There are also a bunch of components that are unique, like Henrik’s hospital stay and Taylor Sinclair’s existence. Writing this, I do realize there are plenty of flaws...the game is finicky and you have to do things a very certain way in a very certain order, some of the tasks are tedious (those temple quizzes), the ending scene is perterbing, and the maze game is an unwelcome reminder of Louis Chandler. Not a favorite, but I appreciate this game for all its quirks and storytelling.

MOON LAKE, I’M COMIN’ FOR YA! 

[littlecinnamonroll]

Hi, this request is gonna be a little strange so I get it if you can't write it. So do you think you can write a love letter from your favorite haikyuu character? I would also like it if it's for a female reader.

hi my love!! this isn’t a strange request at all! I actually run an Etsy business doing something similar so I can definitely definitely do this! I’ve never been asked to write for my fave character though heheh I’m so excited so I guess I’ll write for Suna :) (Also I'm so sorry to my mobile readers, I realize the small script on the main writing is not small :( but it's the same letter regardless!)

Love letter ft. pre!timeskip Suna Rintaro, fem!reader

Hey,

This might seem a little dramatic considering I could have just texted you, but Atsumu knows the password to my phone and I don't need his nose in my business, so I decided to write you this. How have you been? Have you been drinking water, resting, eating enough? I've been practicing non-stop; the twins are sick and Kita is seemingly even more normal, which is weird because there isn't a single thing wrong with that guy, so Aran is pressing for the rest of the team to work even harder. It's fun to be with the team, but the trainer said I might have pulled something in my shoulder, so it gets pretty sore after practice most days.

My sister's here as I write this. I had to babysit her while my parents are out, and she’s laughing because she said she never took me for the writing type. I guess she's right, I’m not really a handwriting type, but I feel like you would have liked this more than a text, or just another wave from the court. I still can't believe it's my final year of high school volleyball. I'll give it my all, for you, for the team, and for myself - I promise. I still remember us meeting for the first time, have I ever told you that? It was sweet and a little bit scary... I'd never felt so strongly for someone so quickly, especially a girl who was so opposite of me: you're bright and bubbly, fiery and brave. You helped pull me out of my own world, so this little letter is the least I can do.

My sister's asking for help with her volleyball hits, but before I go, just know I’m so proud of you. Even if I don't look ecstatic all the time, I truly am proud of you. You’re gentle kindness is admirable, and you’re really pretty too, even on the days that you don’t see it. I see it in you every day and I adore how wonderful you are, how you’re so passionate in everything you do. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be present to give you this letter, but I can’t wait until I get back from this vacation and we can hang out. There was a cool cafe I saw in Hyogo a few weeks ago and I'd be happy to treat you. Until then, just remember that I love you endlessly.

I'll write again soon. Forever yours,

Suna Rintaro

I really hope you liked this! Thank you so much for your request I apologize for taking forever to get to it!! Much love!

© 2022 littlecinnamonroll | do not copy, rewrite and repost, or translate my work - reblogs are greatly appreciated

[chloe-spade]

To Be a Princess

------

Yaz immediately rushed inside the Film Studies Club Room, looking around. He took a sigh.

"Vil!" He gasped, alerting Vil and Ortho, both busy looking at the newest script.

"Oh my, Sweet Potato," Vil sighs,"what happened to you? You look shocked."

"And your heart rate is increasing by the minute!" Ortho added. "What happened to you?"

"Ok, run down." Yaz took a breath. " I started to date Kalim and after maybe a month of dating, he asked me to meet his family! But I don't know how to act around his family and I'm incredibly nervous and.."

"You want to impress them?" Vil chuckles, walking over to him. "And why, pray tell, are you asking me for this?"

"You...you are the closest person to ask how...to act royalty.."

"Royalty?" Vil asked. "My, you are going way to far with this, Sweet Potato. However I suppose I can do my best."

"You asking him? Really, herbivore?" Leona chimes in, walking in. "Don't get me wrong, sweetheart but you don't know the 1st thing about being a prince."

Vil scoffs."Oh really? As compared to one who sleeps all day and repeated 3 years?"

"I'm still a prince regardless, sweetheart. I think I have a bit of knowledge of royalty."

"Are you sure," Vil smiles."Are you challenging me?"

"Of course, I never back down a competition, especially those I'm interested in winning in."

"I should be scared, right?" Yaz mumbled.

"You should be." Ortho says.

Before he know it, Yaz was sitting in front of Leona and Vil, preparing Yaz for the longest lesson he has ever been in.

------

Remember, No nagging, bragging,

sweating, fretting,

slipping, tripping,

slurping,burping,

twittering or frittering allowed.

-----

"That's a lot.." Yaz mutters to himself.

"I think there's a lot more than that.." Ortho sighs,"Even I don't know much of this stuff..."

"Nice to know you're on the same page as I am.*

-----

Stay present, stay pleasant, stay proud.

To be a princess is to know which spoon to use, ("But Yaz isn't a princess?")

To be a princess is a thousand pair of shoes. ("Thousands!?")

To maintain a regal gait,

leave the parsley on your plate,

and be charming,

but detached and yet amused.

To be a princess is to never be confused.

-----

"I must say I'm impressed," Leona says.

"You think you can do better?" Vil challenged. "If so, show me."

"You two are talking this way to seriously." Yaz groaned.

-----

Do a plie and never fall,

Dont ever stray from protocol,

All through the day there's just one way you must behave.

Do keep a grip and never crack,

Stiff upper lip and arch the back,

Bend from above,

and always wear your gloves, and wave.

----

"Get up, Herbivore, this is where things get hard."

Yaz, with major hesitant, stood up as Leona began to circle around him.

----

Shoulders back and tummy in,

And pinky out and lift the chin

And slowly turn the head from side to side

I see now

Breathing gently, stepping lightly,

Smile brightly, nod politely

Never show a thing you feel inside.

Glide.

----

"You look very pretty, Yaz!"

Yaz was in a new sea green outfit, matching the ones seen in Scalding Sands, face decked in simple make-up, absolutely beautiful, but Yaz was so incredibly embarrassed.

"I question how this is necessary!?"

----

To be a Princess is to always look your best,

To be a princess is to never get to rest,

Sit for a portrait, never squirm,

Sleep on a matteress extra firm,

Speak and be clever,

Never at a loss for words.

Curtsy to every count and lord,

Learn how to play the harpsichord,

sing lullabies,

and always harmonise in thirds.

Thirds, thirds!

-----

"I'm definitely learning a lot!" Ortho giggles.

"Lucky for you, Ortho. However I feel like a doll."

Leona smirks and grabbed Vil's hands.

-----

And he has beautiful eyes, ("Leona!?")

Your spirits rise,

when he walks in the room,

("We See!")

Doors close and the chemistry grows

She's like a rose thats forever in bloom.

----

"Your attempts at flirting are absolutely futile.." Vil murmurs.

"But I can tell they worked." Leona remarked.

"Hey, lovers, I'm glad I'm not a result of a feud, but can please get back to the lesson?"

"Recap!"

----

Do a plie and dont

Ever, ever, ever fall

Never show dismay

And be there when people call

Be prepared, whatever royal life will bring.

Do keep a grip and don't

Ever, ever, ever crack

Take a dainty sip

Never, ever turn your back

There's a time and place and way for everything.

To be a princess is to never make your bed ("Of course...")

To be a princess is to always use your head!

----

Yaz was now resting. On the floor, absolutely defeated.

"Was that too much for you?" Leona laughs. "I don't we were that harsh towards you."

"I agree, I think our lessons weren't that hard to follow, right, Sweet Potato?" Vil said, helping Yaz to a chair.

"I'm fine," Yaz mumbles,"It's not as bad as I thought it would be. However, that was a lot of remember."

"I have everything memorized." Ortho reassures. "So you can ask me anything."

"Aw, the show's over." Complained Cater. "But, it was hell of a show!"

"Yeah," chimed Lilia, laughing. "Though Kalim definitely went silent after the outfit change."

"That's why I took a photo!"

"And...how long...were you three sitting there?" Yaz gasped in embarrassment, sinking down in his seat.

"Maybe since Leona walked in? I can't remember! So we walked in and saw a free show, and Yaz looks absolutely stunning!" Cater laughs.

"I thought drama was going to happen! By golly, I was so wrong!"

"And what I am here, Kalim's with you?" Ortho asked.

"Yup! You couldn't tell as he was silent since Vil gave Yaz such a beautiful makeover!"

There Kalim was, flustered but had a hugs smile on his face. "I'm ok! I was just stunned by Yaz's beauty! He looks so gorgeous!!"

"Yaz is hiding behind the chair if you want to see him." Ortho cheers.

"Don't say that!!"

Kalim laughs and goes over. "You look amazing!" He held Yaz close."I mean, you look beautiful regardless, but-!"

"I get it...."Yaz mumbles.

This was the most embarrassing day of his life.

[healingagoddess]

Request: Eternals women reacting to reader getting hurt? - anon

Warnings: English is not my first language.

Note: I am so sorry it took me forever. I tried to take some time to write this before I begin to work on my final projects this weekend. I loved writing this.

_ ✽ _

Sersi

• She is not the type to have a fast reaction. With being a thinker she must take a moment to reflect on what happened.

• As soon as her senses have filled every space of place and time she will react.

• More likely to yell out Ajak’s name first. There is a sense of safety knowing the prime eternal can heal you.

• If Ajak is not around she will dial for an ambulance depending on how serious your injury is. Or she’ll drive you to the nearest hospital while breaking some rules on the way.

• She’d cry a lot regardless.

• The type to cradle you in her shaky hands as she brings your foreheads together.

• She’ll use her power to help you stop any bleeding, or to create ice to soothe your ache and help with swelling.

• She’ll stay by your side the whole time it takes for you to recover.

• She’ll remind you how much she loves you and how sorry she is that you have to go through that.

• If Ajak is around she’ll beg to stay with you as she heals you.

• Once you recover she’ll remind you all the time to be careful.

Makkari

• She is fast, and she reacts fast.

• You won’t get a time to react before she gets help in a matter of seconds.

• More likely to get Ajak to heal you, or Druig if the injury isn’t that serious.

• She worries sick, but she won’t leave your side and won’t get in the way.

• In fact, she will take revenge on whoever caused your injuries in a matter of seconds as you are being healed.

• She is tough and she won’t break easily even if she has strong emotions on the inside.

• You admire how strong she is, but she will express how worried she was once you are feeling better.

• Will tell you how much she loves you ONCE, and that is all you need to know how much you actually mean to her.

• She will get you anything she thinks you might need or like while you are healing. She’ll probably bring you some plushie to cheer you up.

• Both of you don’t need to communicate with words, a single look is enough for both of you to understand.

• She will cuddle you as soon as she is able, glued to your side until you are good as new.

Thena

• She will be frozen in time worried to hurt you even more.

• It will be hard to forgive herself if she hurt you. Even if she’s hurt you other time she will feel guilty and sad. So, she’ll keep her distance with sad and regretful eyes.

• Before, when all of you were together, she’ll naturally get Ajak’s help and not worry much. She’ll be proud of you for being a warrior. She’ll hate to see you hurt, but she knows there will always be someone to help you.

• Another one to take revenge. She won’t rest regardless how minor your injury. A scratch? POOM! POW! SLASH! DEAD!

• In present times she’ll worry more to hurt you herself and will try to keep her distance as she earns your touch. During those quiet nights she will confess to you her desire to be present at all times. Often caressing your injuries as a form of regret and guilt. It is tough to see her like this. You think her soul breaks some more each time.

• She is so grateful for you and wants you to live a long life. She asked you to end her once, when she thought she could have actually killed you. And it’ll take you some time to destroy the walls she built.

• She wants to protect you, and it terrifies her that she is not able to do so.

• You know how to help her when she gets her episodes, and you are good at helping her feel better after them. But every time her gaze falls on your wounds her eyelids become heavy like clouds with rain.

• You love it when she tries to help you herself when you are hurt, because you know it gives her some sort of relief to be able to assist you.

• A quiet communication of a known dance as she cleans your wounds and patches you up under the bright stars.

Ajak

• She has nothing to worry about because she is a healer, yet, she is the one to worry the most when someone gets hurt.

• It pains her more than anything to see you in pain, to see you injured and vulnerable.

• She rushed to your side as quick as possible, her hands always working fast. Her touch is more delicate and intimate. She knows your body like she knows hers.

• You love watching her heal you, not so much the part where you get injured, but you do love watching her concentrated face and how her eyebrows lift in a frown and her lips pout as tears escape her eyes.

• She cries a lot, and she worries so much that has everyone worried for her including you. Eventually, she does keep her posture as your leader as not to worry you. But everybody knows she is putting up a façade.

• Usually, when you get hurt she heals you in a matter of minutes (depending on the severity of your injury, sometimes it only takes seconds) but the aftermath lasts days with her being overprotective and more attentive to your needs.

• BUT she will give you and everyone else a big scolding for whatever happened. She knows everyone is capable of being their very best and not to put themselves in harm ways, AND that accidents happen. But she can’t allow it to happen. Something that she keeps to herself is that she doesn’t want you to die, because she knows that there is a chance you will come back without your memories and that would be worse than death.

• You hate it when she goes quiet after that, because you know she is feeling the weight and the drag of seeing you in harm ways.

• You have to console her with soft kisses and whispers of promises that you will do better.

• Prepare to have her all over you for weeks as she becomes overprotective to the point that she will hold your hand as both of you go out and helps you cross the streets, and she will hold you tighter in crowded spaces.

• A mixture of words of love and scolding. You’d understand her more it if she’d say everything in english instead of spanglish, but you love it anyways.

• You will always feel safe and for forever with Ajak. You feel eternal.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

for the ask game: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30 :)

ok bestie

How many words have you written this year? 537,776

How many works did you publish this year? 143

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? maybe "It wont be the same when my favorite person leaves" but idk... I worked REALLY hard on that fic and it was really cathartic to see an idea that I have been plagued with for months finally come to fruition in a way that I really enjoyed I think. The first version of that fic I wrote was really discouraging because I really hated it but I like the version I posted. Also "Death, suits you dear sir" that one was just really enjoyable to write and I enjoyed the process of it. I think I would've wanted it to be a little scarier but I like the tone I put and I like how I wrote it. I can say I'm proud of that one. Lastly "I can't escape my shadow" is very near and dear to my heart, it's reminiscent of my old writing and It was really fun to write more horror for the first time in however long.

What work of yours has the most hits? "I want a nice soft place to land I want to lie down forever" which makes sense since its one of my owl house fanfics and thats a pretty popular fandom. But it also really surprises me that it's my most popular fic this year bc like... I really hated that fic when I wrote it like, I had the idea in my head and it didn't come out the way I wanted it to at all. The words fought me and I was SO unhappy with it and I still reckon I could do it better. But it's my most popular fic this year I guess.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? Ok so there might be a lot of recent fics bc like I wrote a lot this year but honestly? "Words I don't say" I did not expect a lot of feedback and it was a little bit of a shot in the dark being the first fic I wrote for that campaign. I think I'm noticing a pattern of the ones that I am insecure about are usually received the best

Favorite title you used "Icarus and melted wax" you know how much I love Icarus references

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I think I literally just threw out the sheets of paper I used to collect this data when I cleaned my room a bit ago. Crap. I think it was either Alec Benjamin or Tamino

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Oh thats a good question oh god how do I find this out easily without having to collect the data myself. Probably Albatrio bc I think I have the most riptide fics. Wait I think I figured it out if this is accurate data its a tie between Jay and Gillion or or Chip and Jay

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Dakota and William I think (or PolyPD)

What work was the quickest to write? Oh god I think I have several like 2k fics I wrote in like an hour I absolutely am NOT going to remember which ones. Uh probably "You're my brother and I love you that's the truth" I wrote and posted that one in school. I don't know when I wrote it during the day but it took like an hour...

What work took you the longest to write? The unfinished halloween fic anyway probably "A glimpse in time" it's my longest fic this year and I'm pretty sure it took me a REALLY long time tbh.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? heavy sigh. I doubt it's going to be that many because that implies that it's something I intend to finish and not something I gave up writing. Probably only one that I intend on finishing but if I count ideas that I still want to elaborate on: 3

What’s your longest work of the year? A glimpse of time linked above, that fic possessed me so hard I do not even understand how. I wrote like 6k exposition for it.

What’s your shortest work of the year? OH that's actually a really good question I never actually like... thought about. "sandstorms" at 1,430 words. I always forget I wrote legend of zelda fic, one of those i need to revise and fix bc the tense makes me so unreasinably mad

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? weeping sobbing shaking crying I don't wanna talk about it I don't wanna talk about the halloween fic I'm crying and shaking and sobbing. Oh also the two unfinished fluff prompt asks that I do still intend on writing.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Probably "I wrote this instead of sleeping" only 92 of my 411 fics are NOT tagged with that, Phantom does NOT get sleep actually. In second place is "fluff"

Your favorite character to write this year?A William wisp <33333333333 but Vyn is fun to write too bc I make him a creature.

you didnt put 18 so im not answering that one lol

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Kian Rolan and Rand I need to write more with them I NEED to write more bitb fics lest it drives me insane.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? Good question, I honestly usually reread like the most recent stuff I post, I always reread my fics in the morning after I post them to look at them with new eyes and see how I feel about them then. This one is gonna be a list hold on "I'm a wreck when I'm without you" "The birds who sing in the dead of night" "Until you're in my arms again" I have no idea what others, that's getting a bit older in my fic sooo, I don't usually go that far down.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 16,395

Which work has the most comments? "I want a nice soft place to land I want to lie down forever" Linked above

Did you do any collaborative works this year? uh no? Is that working w ith another person to write a fic, I assume that's what it is and no. Other than the fact that I bounce ideas or plan a good bit of my fics now with you sami

Did you write any gifts this year? No but I may or may not have been supposed to and have not written that yet. This year will be me writing my first gift I feel it.

Did you receive any gifts this year? Two!!! "Struck by lightning" by Nyxthedragon25 and "Lost dog" by Periperson both absolutely lovely fics and everyone should go read them absolutely

What’s your most common category? Hold on what are the categories... oh I don't use those anymore so I can't answer something with that. I very rarely use slash tags I am absolutely not comfortable enough to use those tags.

What do you listen to while writing? Instrumental music or classical music probably.

Favorite work you wrote this year? I have literally no idea tbh but I really like "Here's a health to the company" that one's just a really nice fic, I might add a bonus to it sometimes this year where I add ashe into it which is what I originally wanted to do when I wrote it but I didn't know anything about Ashe enough to be able to write him. But like I had and have an idea of what I could do for him in that 5+1 situation.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? "The words should have been a weight lifted off her shoulders. It should have been relieving to get it off her chest, to tell the big secret that she had been holding close to her heart for so long.

That’s what she had been told. That it was a relief to finally tell the truth.

Whoever said that was a liar through and through."

From "I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive" I'm actually surprised I wrote that in 2022... just barely but it I thought for sure it was gonna be 2021 anyway that line has always stuck out to me I think. There are probably better lines and stuff I've written recently but that one just sticks out to me, I think it's really cool.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? I think just mostly all the fics I managed to write, all the support I've had and I think the friends that I have made. It's really just... shocking to me that people enjoy my fics, a lot of people comment about seeing me upload in their inbox implying that they have notifications on for me and that's just... really wild to me. I can't really comprehend the support and the love people have for my writing, it feels unreal I think. I don't understand it at all haha, I'm just here writing silly things and people actually like it.

I think also my biggest surprise is my growth and how much Jrwi put me in a chokehold haha I didn't expect to write this much this year and I think I'm really happy with where I am with my writing. This year has been amazing and I'm so proud of myself for everything I've done and I'm so glad to have met a ton of amazing people in this fandom and to actually interact and join the community in whatever way I can.

Side note: I'm actually really proud of myself for actually like trying to put myself out there a little more. I hate making fandom posts because it makes me really nervous, but I think that I've gotten over that fear and I've tried to interact more with some people. I've made some great friends and some great mutuals and I'm really happy with that. It's been an amazing year so thank you all.