#why did i procrastinate on such a big chapter

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

How Gaz measures the passage of time

[kyouka-supremacy]

—

[plutolovesyou]

how soon is now? | part two

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

previous chapter. series masterlist.

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: the long-awaited second part of this godforsaken fic (lawd she’s given me trouble). appreciate y'all's patience as always, i'm a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist but what can i do. after this, i'm gonna take a break from this series. not saying i'll never write more, but wanna work on some other stuff for a while. thank you for reading! pretty please don’t hate me or show up at my house waving torches and pitchforks for this ending ok luv u gays in my phone. + a big thank you to @total-dxmure for helping me w/ some ideas for the last little bit!

♧:5.7k word count (lawd)

◇: sfw! miscommunication (sawry). fluffy moments, angst lowkey…both of yall cry at one point or another, reader has anxiety in the last chunk. modern au but joel isn’t alive in this, and they discuss it. maybe some rushed points here and there, i’m not really the proudest of this but needed to finish it anyway. potentially horrendous pacing but ok i think that’s all? idfk i may give y’all a little epilogue eventually, but don't dwell on it for the time being!

4 months later 

Your friendship with Ellie was evolving wonderfully. You two were studying together frequently, and both your grades in the ghastly astrophysics class increased exponentially. Although that wasn't the only thing that was increasing at a rate too fast to fathom. Your crush on her. It was ripping you apart like wildfire, Ellie was proving herself to be such a wonderful person inside and out, and you were slowly but surely nearing your limit of how much it could build before you burst. A movie spin off of the Savage Starlight series had come to streaming, and Ellie had invited you to her place for a movie night so you two could watch it and discuss if it was a faithful entry in your beloved series or not. 

Dressed in some comfortable pjs and armed with snacks of all kinds, your favorites as well as hers, the time had come and you were at her door. You straighten your posture and put your hair back in place, must look presentable, then knock, knock, knock.

You could hear some faint shuffling behind the door, then a few thudding steps until she opened it for you. She was dressed in an old, worn Nirvana tee, and red checkered pajama pants, damn she looked good, even when she was dressed with less effort than usual. 

Ellie looked so pleased to see you, leaning on the doorframe. Why did she have to look so good all the time? “Hi! I’m so glad you came, ooh this is gonna be so fun.” She invited you in and took the snacks from your arms and placed them inside her room. “Oh yeah, I also put up some decor too so we can get into the Savage Starlight spirit.” Her eyes were wide and twinkling and when she stepped aside to let you see, she really had made her room so welcoming and comfortable.  

The lights were all off save for LEDs around the room’s perimeter set to a dreamy violet hue, sparkly fairy lights draped around the frame of her bed which was set up so cozily. Her laptop propped up on a pillow, the sheets arranged in a nest-like formation with two spaces for each of you. She even had a few dinosaur stuffed animals placed in a row so they could watch too.

You were so flattered she'd do that and make the atmosphere so nice for the two of you, you could just tackle her in a hug and never let go.

The thing is you were scared she'd perceive that as weird and you didn't feel like dying of embarrassment, not today at the very least. Save that for another day, maybe. Oh, how you wanted to squeeze her so bad. Your imagination had to do for now. 

She was standing there so proud of how she arranged her room into a mini theater, and you beamed at her, silently thanking her for making it so dim so she couldn't see your flustered expression in full.

“Ellie this is amazing!!” “You like it?!? These stupid lights kept on falling off but since this is an important occasion for us both I didn't give up. All for our love, Daniela.” She manipulated her voice and waved in the air with two fists, closed her eyes and put her hand over her heart, just being as dorky as ever.

Oh gosh, hopefully it wasn't going to be awkward. Sure, the two of you had grown to be great friends, but were you that close to be just, relaxing in her bed together? As long as your imagination didn't run too wild and you didn't overthink anything, it was going to be a fun time. Just two pals watching their favorite series, nothing more, nothing less.

She threw herself in the mess of comforters with a grunt, and saw you were hesitating. She patted the empty space next to her so you'd join her and the movie night could begin. “C’mere, don't be shy.” Well, no shit you were going to be shy. Suck it up. 

You crawled in next to her, unable to look her in the eyes, while she got everything ready and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Man, if they do our girl dirty, we’re gonna have to give someone a knuckle sandwich, you with me?” Her jokes and easy going vibes always made her so fun to be around, but unfortunately for you, you fell harder for her every time. “Yeah, Ellie. A knuckle sandwich for all of them.” You retorted with a chuckle. Once both of you were settled, she pressed play and so it began.

As the movie played, the two of you laughed and debated every plot twist, cursing the directors for not portraying your queen Daniela how she deserves, and snacked on candy until your stomachs hurt. It was going so well, the friendly hang out both of you needed after so many responsibilities in life. An escape. Occasionally sneaking peeks Ellie’s way, she was just so marvelously pretty. The shadows dancing on her features, illuminating her side profile perfectly, her long eyelashes and button nose, who wouldn't get lost in admiring her?

Of course you could never fully relax around her, or forget the crush no matter how hard you tried to push it down and just be friends. Every time she shifted next to you in the bed you felt your heart seize and the butterflies in your stomach turn into hornets. At this rate, they were going to turn into whole birds for fuck’s sake.

Nearing the end of the movie, the two of you were so invested, so captivated in the events, totally spellbound.

But then the film took a more emotional turn that wasn't in the comics. Daniela and her father had an absolutely vicious argument which left the two of you speechless watching it, which luckily got quickly resolved right after the two characters had a near-death experience together.

You weren't one to get emotional over silly, trivial things like fiction, but the way they showed this entire sequence was nothing short of heart-wrenching. You snatched up one of Ellie's patterned pillows and hugged it tightly to your chest, because cuddling her would have been much too bold for the likes of you. But what you’d give to do that instead.

Seems you were not the only one touched by the scene, as you began to hear some light sniffling from next to you. Looking over at Ellie made your heart break further into a million pieces. She looked lost in thought with thin lines of tears streaming down her plump, freckled cheeks. 

You froze for a moment, not knowing the limits of your relationship with her and how you could comfort her best. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “That was so sad…” You watched as she avoided your gaze and wiped at her face with the collar of her t-shirt, “Yeah, this kind of stuff hits me, feels a little personal y’know.” She has never opened up to you about her struggles before, in the short time you’ve known and gotten close with Ellie, it always seemed like she was there to help you out, not the other way around. This could be your chance to show her that you are there for her as well, and that she can always count on you.

Being curious but at the same time not wishing to pry too much into her private affairs, you quietly asked with the most gentle tone of voice you could muster,” You don’t have to, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it, Ellie.” You watched her out of the corner of your eye, anticipating however she reacts.

She stayed quiet for a beat before sighing deeply, and whispered, “We were having a fun time, I really don't wanna be a burden.” Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion, what could possibly be troubling her this much? You wanted to take all her pain and bear it yourself, she didn't deserve any sort of misfortune ever.

“You can tell me, don’t worry about anything, okay? I just want you to be all good.” You were comforting her so smoothly, putting her needs and well-being first as if it was always second nature, as if you two have known each other many lifetimes over, two souls meant to float together through the journey of life. Well okay, that was probably a bit much.

There were a few more seconds of silence as you let the question ring in the air, not wanting to press and jeopardize your cherished friendship with her. 

You continue observing her, almost seeing the gears turning in her mind, the scales of reason tipping to one side then another, as she contemplates whether it’s worth spilling. Eventually, she does.

She roughly rubs her face then pauses the film playing on her laptop, sighs and huffs, before beginning to speak her story, all while looking away from you.

“Okay I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but I trust you. A whole lot.” Your heart fluttered and face heated up at her comment, but you ignored it because there was something much more important on the table now. She continues, speaking quietly but quickly to get it over with. 

“So, when I was a kid, I was an orphan and to be honest I don’t really remember my early childhood much at all, but when I was 14 my adoptive dad, Joel, took me in. And it’s been just us since then.” She stops to take a breath, then resumes reluctantly. “And well, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship for a good chunk of these years, I never knew how to express my gratitude to him, y’know, for basically saving my life, numerous times at that. He was always my rock, and I appreciate him every day. He taught me so many things, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t come around. I was pretty hard to deal with back then.” She reminisces with an exhale of air, and you see her eyes refill with tears. “But I’m really bad at expressing that, and will kinda, lash out I guess when I’m met with kindness or tricky situations.” 

You nod, listening patiently, and place your hand on her shoulder ever so gently, as a result making her raise her head to give you a small smile. 

Ellie chuckled deeply, it almost sounded forced, then started to slowly wrap up her story. “And it seems that scene kinda hit me, because the wounds are still raw, or whatever.” 

She sniffles again but doesn't respond, so you delicately inquire, “What do you mean?”

“He died last year.” Oof.

“Oh my, Ellie, I’m so sorry, are you-” She interrupts your condolences. “No need for that, I’m fine. Well, taking it day by day y’know. In the beginning it was really tough, I was angry at everything but most at myself for being such a jerk, and now I can't turn back time and tell him all I wanted to.” While you take a moment to think about what to say, she hums to herself and remarks, “That actually felt good to get off my chest, I haven't told anyone about it.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “Didn't have who to tell.”

“Sure you're okay? I'm always here for you.” You find your voice back to soothe her some more, to which she smiles at you again, only this time it actually seems genuine. There's definitely a lot of pain behind it, but the relief that she doesn't have to deal with the burden alone was evident on her face. 

“Yeah, thanks. I guess I hadn’t processed anything, and that part of the movie made it all come out, damn I hate emotions sometimes. But I appreciate you being here for me. You're really easy to talk to, and I feel better now.” 

And you would've never in a trillion years anticipated what her next move was going to be, you were so caught off guard, the realization lagged and it didn't immediately register. 

She moved to sit on her knees in front of you, then threw her arms around your torso in a tight embrace. She hugged you. Clutched you so firmly against her own body, her strong hands landing in the middle of your back, where she rubbed in a circle. She smelled so nice, and was as warm as one of her heated stuffed animals. 

Due to the surprising nature of the motion you let out a dumbfounded gasp, then returned the hug allowing yourself to rest your head on her shoulder. You wanted to stay like this forever, until the end of time, it felt nicer than you could've ever imagined.

The thought crossed your mind that she could feel the buzz pulsating through your body, you swore your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard it was going to grow wings and simply fly right out of your chest, and join hands with hers.

While you were occupied with the way she felt against you, so close like this, chest against chest, and how your cheeks blazed with an inferno hotter than a thousand suns, you heard her grumble against your ear. “Not gonna make that same mistake again, and from now on, I'm gonna tell the people I appreciate just how much they matter to me.”

You were much too stunned to speak, but she wasn't. “So thank you again.” She finishes her little speech and pulls away first, but not before giving you one last big squeeze and letting out a noise of contentment as she does so, then shuffles over to her previous spot in the bed. 

Not taking notice of the way you were at a loss for words, or about to set the room on fire with how flustered her actions made you. Her obliviousness was a common theme, it seemed. She clears her throat and claps, grabbing some more candy for herself, then says happily, “We still got the rest of the movie left, then we can do whatever after. I really wanna know how this ends.”

Naturally, your head is spinning, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to continue paying attention to the movie as much as you were before.

You felt awful for her, yet somehow, felt as if your crush on her had quadrupled in size yet again. You saw through the guard she put up, she broke down those walls and opened up to you. You were honored she trusted you so much, and only hoped that would never change. That, coupled with how remarkably good hugs she gave, has led you to the realization that you were properly in love now, things had gotten real. This was trouble. You vowed to always be there for her for whatever she could ever need, you'd drop everything to teleport by her side if you could. 

Goodness, what were you possibly going to do now, instead of giving you the ick, or helping you with the task of getting rid of that stupid infatuation you were so plagued by, every experience felt like a deliberate ploy to just make you fall even further for her. You couldn't help but wonder just how much love a person can feel for someone, because it only continued to grow. 

A couple days later.

Sitting in the cozy campus cafe, you were revising all your coursework. It was giving you a massive headache, but the warm and hazy lighting aided it a touch. The walls had cute plastic vines crawling up and down, and even though there was chatter all around you from the other patrons, it wasn't a distraction and in fact acted as some sort of white noise, everyone was talking in a nicely muted tone, it all blended to create the perfect ambience. 

You waved down the waitress to get yet another cup of coffee, your third one of the night, that’s healthy, before trying to resume with your aggravating studies. 

To your dismay, you've used up all your brain power for the evening, and could not force yourself to continue no matter how hard you tried. Maybe a few moments of peaceful people-watching would get you back on track?

You sip on the hot drink, then lean back against the comfortable booth seat to begin scanning around.

In one corner directly on the opposite side of where you were sitting, there was an elderly couple. They looked so in love, dressed in matching outfits, feeding each other as they shared a dessert, holding hands and conversing with a hushed tone, nodding and looking into each other's twinkling eyes. So cute, you hoped that was going to be you in the future. 

Moving your line of sight to watch beside the couple, there was another student, their books and computer were scattered across the wooden table, piles of pens and pencil cases near falling over. They seemed to have fallen asleep, unmoving with their head laid tiredly across their crossed arms. The sight made you chuckle out of familiarity, you really felt for them, studies were hard. 

But then a sound caught your attention. A bright, husky giggle fought its way over the ambience, reminiscent of a certain someone. 

Your heart jumped, your ears perked up and you immediately became insistent on scouting her out among the patrons, this was a necessary mission. 

Feeling highly nervous and antsy, you try to drown out the noise and focus on where she could be, and quickly enough, you find her.

Ellie in her natural habitat, she was so mesmerizing. Sitting far away from you where you could get a good view and hear snippets of conversation if you focused hard enough, but not close enough where she would notice your shameless gawking. She was sitting with a group of a handful of her friends, who all appeared to be gossiping and laughing with each other, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Her smile was gorgeous, and you knew that, but there was something about just being a spectator which fascinated you, you could stare at her all day. Her energy lit up the entire room, and made your heart race.

Snapping out of your trance and trying to not be so obvious with your staring, you tried to look occupied, tried reorganizing your notes while still keeping an ear out to listen. Occasionally glancing over as  well. Yes, it's true that eavesdropping is wrong, but you couldn't help yourself. Anyone would do the same, right?

The group's passionate discussion was making you extremely curious however, and you strained to hear what they were talking about. Among the muffled chatter, you heard a woman’s voice say the word crush, then an outburst of laughter, the loudest guffaw from Ellie herself. 

You felt the budding panic start to form in your chest momentarily, but swallowed the lump forming in your throat and took a sharp intake of breath to calm yourself at once. They could be talking about anything, there's no need to jump to conclusions just yet. Fumbling around your bag for your headphones to listen to some of the song recommendations Ellie had given you, you’re led to discover that they are, in fact, dead. Of course. 

Despite any and all wishes to stop eavesdropping on them and mind your own business and abide by what they say, ignorance is bliss, you simply couldn't. She was too damn captivating. Like a painting in a museum, like a statue at a town’s center, one that people stopped in their tracks to admire. 

The way her eyes sparkled and gleamed under the warm lighting, her cheeks tinted a faint rosy hue from the exertion of laughing so hard, her sweet smile. She was too perfect. God, you hated crushes, being infatuated with someone to this degree couldn't be healthy. But what could you do? Just look at this angel.

Fidgeting nervously while still being entranced by the group of friends, you heard a man’s voice say the words “there’s no way”, followed by Ellie howling even harder than she had the whole time you've been watching them, and punch him forcefully on the shoulder. 

The curiosity was going to swallow you whole, it was like a car crash you couldn't look away from. You felt your palms begin to tremble and sweat with worry, and anxious assumptions of all kinds running through your mind, were they talking about you? No, they couldn't be, you're just overthinking it. Relax, relax, relax.

You tried your hardest to control your breathing and soothe your spinning mind so you wouldn't spiral, until you heard something that absolutely shook you to your core.

The same woman from before, not Ellie, in a highly teasing tone of voice said your name.

You felt frozen, this couldn't be happening. All your worst fears were coming true at this very moment. You had to get out of there right away, this was too much to bear. Curiosity really did kill the cat didn't it, you wished you didn't comply with the morbid desire to know everything. 

Panic-stricken like a deer in headlights, near hyperventilating at this point, the final straw was all three of them erupting into laughter simultaneously, with Ellie through gasps, going "oh come onnnn”.

Yeah that was it. Hot tears started pricking your eyes and you vigorously blinked them away before they started streaming down your face, as if you needed to be humiliated even more. You felt sadded, torn apart, betrayed. Sick to your stomach too. This time, for once, you really thought you had something going for you. From your perspective, albeit through rose-colored glasses, you were convinced she was being genuine with you all this time. How could you not be? 

The late night study sessions, the air thick with tension, the conversations draped in a sleep-deprived haze, the walks to class together, the first fated interaction, the looks you two shared from across the huge lecture hall; the looks where you two just knew when to share a glance, was all of that fake? Was she leading you on purposefully because her friends thought it was funny, that you were a joke?

The tears threatened to spill and your stomach twisted painfully with the world-shattering realizations you were just served with, and you angrily shoved your belongings in your bag.

You were too caught up in your panicked frenzy to notice how disruptive you were actually being, your textbooks thumping and keychains jingling, but frankly didn't care enough to meet the numerous pairs of eyes observing your misfortune. Who could blame you, your whole world and everything you've known just crumbled before you. 

You slung your bag over your shoulder noisily as a choked sob made its way up your throat, then speed-walked out of that cafe. You were never going to be able to go in there again unfortunately, shame, their pastries were so good.

Right as you tried to step through the door it got stuck, because the universe was being really nice to you today, and as you tugged on it to get it to open, you heard the friends lower their voices, but you could still make out a jumble of hushed words sounding something like, “oh no, is that…” Great, great, fucking great. The only solution to this was to change your name and ride up to Seattle for goodness’ sake, maybe throw yourself into a volcano as well just because. 

Finally the door swung open after what felt like eons, and you stumbled outside into the chilly autumn air, feeling goosebumps spring up all over. Where you were going, you didn't really know. This cafe was new, so it would take some time to figure out navigation so you stood dumbly in the middle of the front lawn as you tried to orient yourself.

Once you think you've got it, you start your agonizing trek back to your little room, screaming inside of your head, until you're harshly yanked back mid-footstep by a vice grip on your arm. What the fuck was it now. 

Ellie. The sight of her only made your tears increase in quantity and the emotion in your chest tighten. She looked a little disheveled, her eyes round like saucers, and she was gripping onto your arm so hard as if you were going to run away. You wanted to, but she still had a magnetic hold on you, even after all that turmoil. 

Talking was painful with how much you were trying to keep a hold of yourself, but you managed out a choked, “Ellie, what?” 

She looked befuddled, shaking her head ever so slightly and scrunching up her eyebrows, her gaze boring right into yours and following whenever you tried to break it and look elsewhere. Her hold on your arm softens, and moves to rest on your shoulder. “What do you mean what? You ran outta there like you were chased by a lunatic or something, what the fuck happened?”

Her tone startled you a little, why did she care so much? Noticing you jolt, she sighs and mellows her speech. “Sorry, what I mean to say is, I'm worried. Are you okay?” 

You worried her? Heat rushed to your cheeks as you fought to break the increasingly uncomfortable eye contact, and all you could do was shrug. Your lip started quivering and you were losing the fight of keeping your composure, how wonderful. Despite everything she was being so sweet, way too sweet. You felt helpless at this point. 

The words started pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall, you were properly sobbing now, falling apart and hiccuping as months and months of emotion spilled over. 

You were blabbering about how you loved the friendship you formed with her, but how hurt you felt that she’d laugh about you, every possible insecurity just tumbled out of your lips, as you wiped at your teary face and runny nose and glanced at Ellie ever so often. 

She let you talk for a bit until she saw you get even more upset, that's when she got a step closer to you, squeezed both your shoulders gently and kept a stern tone of voice to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, slow down, I don't know what you're saying.” But you couldn't stop crying. Bottling up emotions was definitely a bad idea, because they were bound to burst sooner or later and unfortunately, you reached the breaking point. Sucking in some unsteady breaths as an attempt to regulate yourself, she was watching you patiently yet still cautiously. 

Your voice was weak and shaky, but you were slowly feeling a little better. For the first time during this interaction, you meet her eyes. Why was she always so pretty? She was sculpted just to spite you, you were convinced. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you blinked them away. “Um…Ellie…” She nodded expectantly, wanting to know what was wrong. But you could not complete your sentence as yet another bout of ache washed over you.

To snap you out of it once and for all, Ellie grabbed your face. The sheer disbelief of her action was enough to stop your tears luckily, and she held your gaze while she used her thumb to swipe at the stray teardrops adorning your cheekbones. You wanted to die, what was going on?

Once your panic was replaced with fluster and stupefaction, she let you go, but was still standing really close to you. You felt jittery from it all, nervous, embarrassed and in love and everything under the sun all at the same time. You stared at her, then looked away, then looked at her plump pink lips which were set in a questioning pout, then back up to her sympathetic greener-than-grass eyes, fuck, fuck, fuck. The intensity of the situation had caused any sense of judgment or critical thinking to long, long gone, and so your body moved on its own and before you had a chance to form a solid thought or process what you were doing.

Smooch.

You kissed her. 

Mouths colliding like magnets as you held onto the sides of her face, fireworks igniting in every single part of your body. Cradling her jaw as you closed the space between you two, the hurricane of emotion coursing through your veins as your lips caressed hers, and time felt like it had stopped. The months and months of excruciating pining had all led up to this very moment. 

She instinctively kissed you back, you felt her breaths fanning your face. You were about to ascend to another dimension. Lingering against her for a little longer, you forced yourself to regretfully pull away, and laughed loudly at her state now. 

Her lips were parted and she was gawking at you, you had broken her completely. Your own heart was working overtime, you were panting from the adrenaline of the situation, and could only hear the blood rushing in your ears. 

She seemed to be in a coma, doing nothing but staring and breathing. You punched her arm playfully, your voice breaking.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.” 

An frustrated confession tore itself from your throat, even the world's strongest iron bars couldn't contain it. You wiped at your face with your sleeves, a sad attempt to clear it of the residual salty tears that never once stopped their journey out of your eyes.

The sadness had left you, and you felt lighter now, truthfully. Had no idea how you would ever face her again after all this, but at least the cat was out of the bag and you had gotten that off of your chest. You both stood there in silence, now what was wrong with her? What a dork. Sucking on your teeth and kicking a pebble on the ground you admitted finally, “So, yeah. That's what's been troubling me, I guess.” 

Her pupils were dilated and huge, as she scanned all over your features, her mouth opening and closing as if she was having an internal battle of what to say. She stood there almost appearing miles more shocked than you somehow, she looked as if she was going to have a heart attack and die on you, you found it funny, but concerning at the same time. 

You watched her for a moment more, before accepting your disappointing fate and bidding her a goodbye. You cleared your throat. “Okay then. Cya in class. Bye.” You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, but this time for real, and didn't look back at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, you wanted to leave this whole fiasco in the past. That chapter was closed, it seemed. 

The only thing left to do now was call your bestie, Abby. She has been your cheerleader through this whole thing, through all this time, gave you advice and brought you back to Earth, and you needed her support now more than ever. 

Right after you reached your dorm she was there in no time at all, after receiving your distress call she scrambled into action, with chocolates and boxed wine in hand. Maybe you should just date her instead at this point. Who else was left for you?

You talked and talked and talked to her about everything for so long, talking the night away just like old times, and she sat and listened to your every word, patted your back reassuringly as you weeped into her shoulder, then tucked you into bed at the end of it all. She left only when she was sure you'd relaxed fully.

You didn't fall asleep quite yet, and stayed awake thinking, pondering life and staring up at your ceiling. It turns out angrily confessing to the girl you've been infatuated with forever by impulsively kissing her and letting the whole campus know it was a tiring thing after all. You really did cause a bit of a scene, when you thought about it in hindsight.

But what was this all like from Ellie's perspective? You wished you could know what she thought, or at least gotten some sort of formal response. Her friend storms out of a cafe, kisses her and screams she's in love with her? It's certainly understandable she'd feel a little lost, or under great pressure to give you an answer. Her reaction did make sense though, after being met with such a shocking revelation. Wow, now that you were really thinking about it, she still did not know why you ran out of the cafe like that. You wished you could turn back time and redo this day, shame that wasn't possible. Were you two ever going to have a discussion about this, or had you just lost a friend for life. Oh no, you pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, you didn't have an ounce of energy left over to dwell on it.

You'd work out what you were going to face her next later, a very well-deserved visit to dreamland was way overdue. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slow, so you turned on your side and snuggled into your bed, eventually falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Meanwhile on your bedside table:

Bzz, bzz, bzz. 

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[successfulgoddess333]

Why do you think we call it the “Law of Assumption?”

Assumption is easy

When you say someone is a certain way just to be surprised they’re not

You made an assumption

When you plan what you’re going to do tomorrow

You’re assuming

Because who says you’re going to be here tomorrow?

You did

Assumptions are manifested when the person assuming beloved in their assumptions

So if you can assume negative stuff

About people or yourself

Why not make it positive?

Whatever is negative could be positive simply because

If negative exists

A positive most exist right?

No one really knows you

This is your life

To your parents you’re probably quiet to your friends you’re probably extroverted

To a stranger you might be mysterious

But you’re the only one who knows your entire self

Because like skin, we have layers

And nobody will ever know every layer

You could be married for 50 years

This person will never fully know you

You peel off a certain layer when you are around or meet specific people

You having multiple layers means you’re similar to the earth

Nobody will ever reach earths core

Just like no one will ever reach the core part of you

In conclusion this all means

That nobody really knows you and never will

And therefore

Always do what makes you happy always do what works for you

This is related to manifestation how?

Because it’s YOUR Dream life

Everything you’re manifesting

Is special

To you in a way

It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else

Don’t feel insecure or upset because of your desires

Some people might think their desires are “too big” or if they’re manifesting like an Sp

Some people feel bad for doing so

Babes why do you think you discovered L.O.A at the same time you’re craving a better life AND wanting your Sp??

This is your book

You get to decide who you want in it

And where it goes

As the author

You wouldn’t be stuck on a chapter right?

If you don’t like it

Burn the book babe

You don’t have to suffer

You don’t have to be depressed or angry if what ever it is you’re going through

I’m tired of your sob stories

You understand who the f is in control

It’s you

Literally it’s so easy

To shift your awareness

The void state ain’t nothing but pure consciousness

“The key to getting in”

Bitch there’s no key

Just lay there

Literally FUCK YOUR SURROUNDINGS

(That came out wrong)

You know say I mean

You can lay there for

Twenty minutes to an hour to two hours but get your dream life forever

So why are you still making excuses?

You’re procrastinating……

Again

Are you fucking serious?

Bring me success stories

NOW!!!

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway. 

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

 why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous. 

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue? 

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it. 

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down. 

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest. 

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you. 

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck. 

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long. 

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call. 

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet. 

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t. 

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 18 - Did I find you, or you find me?

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None!

Hey, I’m back 😊 Had a lovely vacation and I’m home. Forgive the short chapter…I’m just setting up the ending…

The second you got home you peeled off the dress you’d been wearing for so many hours, flinging it into the laundry basket. You plugged your dead phone into your charger before stepping straight into a scalding shower. You exhaled with relief as the hot water washed away the grubbiness, cleansing you of the night before, of Peter’s touch, of every unpleasant detail.

As you lathered up your body wash, your mind drifted to Bucky, as it had the whole journey home. You couldn’t stop thinking about him staying there out on the road all night for you. And he didn’t want a big fanfare or pat on the back for it, he just…did it.

For you.

Your head spun as you replayed it over and over. The affection in his eyes as he looked at you. They were always so blue…you were amazed you hadn’t drowned in them. Even weary and fatigued from his staggering lack of sleep, they had still sparkled in a way that made your breath hitch.

You considered his astute observation about Granny’s house and your procrastination. He was right, of course. Part of you wasn’t ready to leave this place, it was the final physical tether you had to her – giving it up was the last step in saying goodbye. Once the house was gone, so was she.

But Bucky was right. Giving up this house wasn’t giving her up…not really. This was just bricks and mortar. It wasn’t your memories of her, your photographs. This house wasn’t her wisdom, it wasn’t her smile. It had felt like she was still everywhere in here, but in truth, she was no longer here at all. We aren’t our possessions; we aren’t our stuff – even if it feels like it sometimes. We can’t take any of it with us.

She wouldn’t want you clinging to her, not allowing yourself to move on and live your life. She had given you the house for precisely the opposite reason – she wanted you to be free. She wanted to give you either the stability of a home and roots, or the financial freedom to choose what made you happy.

But not this. Not living somewhere inbetween.

Your whole life you had ambled, too frightened to make any real decisions in case you made the wrong one. You’d found jobs and homes when friends had recommended them to you, or by knowing someone who knew someone else, or by chatting with patrons at your various bar jobs. A lot of your experiences had been ‘right place, right time’ (or ‘wrong place, wrong time’) rather than you actively seeking them out. Despite your stubbornness and self-assurance, you were often unanchored in life – lost at sea.

And of course, there was the other reason you hadn’t allowed yourself to move on.

He had broken your heart, and you were so sure that his chapter in your book had ended, but here you were – still thinking of him. Nobody had ever done anything like that for you before. Nobody had ever cared so deeply, fighting to stay despite you shutting them out of your life. Normally they left at even the slightest difficulty, and in a way, that was easier. Better they show you who they really are early on, rather than you getting too deep and being unable to reach the surface when disaster inevitably struck. You were at least self-aware enough to know you often pushed people away…because better it be on your terms, right?

That was partly why what Bucky had done hurt you so badly. Your walls had started to crumble with him, but his betrayal had built them back up even higher. He had just affirmed what you had always thought of people, it made you feel foolish. Weak.

But now…

He had left you alone like you’d asked. He had shown up for you in your time of need, he had stayed for you then despite your insistence he leave. He had saved you, but with no strings or expectations attached. He had only done it for you, not for himself. He wasn’t trying to score points, or get the upper hand, he was just trying to make you happy. Make you feel safe.

And he had made you happy, once. He’d brought you a pocket of peace you hadn’t felt before. He had shown you a glimpse of life where you could truly be yourself.

Weighed down by your thoughts, you stepped out of the shower. You dried yourself off and changed in your PJs before flopping into bed. It was late morning now, but you needed the sleep desperately. You also needed some time away from your own brain.

As your head hit the pillow you were out almost instantly. You slept until the early afternoon, emerging groggily as you sat up and groaned. Annoyingly, a magic fix to all your problems somehow hadn’t materialised while you were out.

But one thing was clear. Absolutely crystal. Everything else was a mess, but this was clear and bright and unmistakable.

You needed to speak to Bucky.

You reached over and grabbed your phone from your bedside table, yanking it off the charger cable as you unlocked it. You scoffed as Peter’s name flooded the screen, a flurry of missed calls and ‘I’m sorry’ notifications. You swiped them away as if you were irritatedly swatting at a wasp. He deserved no more of your time.

There was also a stoic text from Steve wishing you well after he heard about your ‘trouble’, and one from Wanda asking how your date with Peter had been. You nearly laughed out loud at how much you had to fill her in on.

Your heart sank a little to find there was nothing from Bucky, but that was to be expected. You had asked him to leave you be, and he was respecting that.

Your finger hovered over his name in your contacts as you stumbled at this next hurdle. Would a text be better? You could tell him everything you wanted and be sure you were articulate and clear about what you wanted to say, but maybe a phone call was more sincere? Could you go halfway and record a voice note? Or was that weird? Should you ask to meet somewhere and then talk? What if he said no? What if he wanted to move on, and you would just be creating drama for him? What if he had only done all of that stuff on the road out of guilt?

You chewed on your lip as you considered your options. It had all seemed so obvious just moments before, but now you were second guessing yourself and unable to move forward. Just like always.

Just as you were internally cursing yourself and the paralysis of indecision, you were pulled from your thoughts by a noise out in the yard. It was…a banging? Was someone knocking on your door? Maybe a delivery driver…but wouldn’t they just use the doorbell like everyone else?

Frowning, you got to your feet as you headed downstairs – curiosity winning out over the embarrassment of going to the front door in an old sports t-shirt and a pair of Bucky’s boxers you had quietly been wearing as pyjama bottoms since he left them at the house however many months ago.

You opened the door and peered out, but nobody was there. Strangely, the knocking continued somewhere out of sight, so you kicked on some sneakers and trepidatiously stepped out into the front yard. What was this now, a trespasser? The last thing you needed at this moment, but the universe always seems to have fun with its timing. You should’ve brought your phone with you in case you needed to call the police.

You followed the sound around to the side of the house, yelping when you discovered the source of the banging.

Just a few feet in front of you in the yard was Bucky, kneeling, his back to you. His was kutte neatly folded in a pile by his feet on the grass. In one hand he held a hammer, in the other, a plank of wooden fence panel raised onto the once broken enclosure. Next to that was an affixed plank. And another. And another.

He was fixing the fence.

The damn fence.

“Bucky…”, you whispered, your voice croaky with sleep and surprise.

He turned, getting to his feet as he dropped the hammer to the ground, “hey”, he said softly. “I just thought you could use a hand…so you wouldn’t have it hanging over you anymore. But if I’m overstepping, just say…”

You didn’t speak. You just ran towards him.

*

Sorry for the cliffhanger! I’ll put you out of your misery soon I promise…

[dvrtrblhr]

omg hiii your Dimiclaudes are gorgeous and I adore the snippets of writing you add to the pieces 💛💙

aaa thanks a lot! i love drawing them forever, so i'm happy others also enjoy it lol

anyway, i searched my folders for a sketch i hadn't posted and i found this one:

and the scene that comes with it below:

As if to prove that point, while they followed the locals through the tunnels that would lead them to Abyss, Claude noticed that Dimitri was throwing glances at him and looking sulky.

“What is it?” Claude asked in a whisper. Dimitri glanced at him and sulked some more. It was starting to get annoying.

“You don’t think I can take him,” he answered finally. Claude couldn’t help the way his mouth fell open in disbelief. Out of all things, that was what bothered him. It was that kind of moment that made Claude very aware of how different they really were. “Honestly, he’s not even that big. He’s shorter than Dedue, I think.”

“Dedue, who is probably the tallest, biggest person in the whole monastery,” Claude rebutted mostly because Dimitri’s remark was so absurd. “Anyway, did I say that you couldn’t take him? I don’t think so.” They walked in silence for a while longer before Claude continued, “I don’t see why you would want to risk getting hurt because of something so silly. It’s not even your specialty. Or did you forget that you excel in sparring with a lance? That long pole with a sharp tip that keeps the enemy at a safe distance, remember?”

“Why are you so sure I’m going to lose though?” Dimitri asked, still looking offended.

“I’m not! In this stupid thing called fist fighting even the winner gets hurt. Now, if brawling is what you want, then go ahead! Just don’t expect me to cheer for you or kiss your bruises better, all right?” he replied, equally perplexed and irritated, then noticed what he had just said and looked around to see that they had, fortunately or not, fell behind the rest of their group so he continued, “What were you expecting, Dimitri? Did you think I would swoon at your manliness? I’m sorry, but that… doesn’t really impress me. Now, you want to know what impresses me? Your kindness, passion and sincerity.”

It was Dimitri’s turn to be speechless, it seemed. Claude immediately thought he had said too much and felt his face flush at his own corniness. Then Dimitri's hands were caressing his cheeks softly, tilting his head upwards so he could kiss his lips gently. It was the kind of touch that made Claude forget why doing that at such time and place was a really bad idea.

“You are right, I’m sorry,” Dimitri said quietly, still cradling his face in his hands, “There’s one thing, though. You are too kind, Claude. Kinder than I could ever hope to be. And kinder than I deserve.”

Claude wanted to protest about such a useless comparison and about Dimitri’s supposed unworthiness. It was something that had crept into their conversations from time to time, how Dimitri seemed to think he was somehow a bad person. It made no sense considering the effort he put into being as good and helpful as he could, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. He didn’t say anything, though, it was such a pleasant moment… He really didn’t want to ruin it with an argument, not even an important one he had been procrastinating for a while. And Dimitri was kissing him again, his lips, his cheeks, his neck. He might really turn to mush if that continued.

Then they heard the sound of footsteps and they were quickly pulling away from each other. Edelgard appeared by the corner looking sour.

"What are you two doing?" she asked irritably.

Golden Dawn, Chapter 20, Wind - Underground

[talesofesther]

pretty secrets

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe and is set before chapter 10 (but can also be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: Wednesday thinks you're hiding something from her, and she doesn't like when it starts to rob her of her time with you.

A/N: Hi, yes, here's me procrastinating on other projects just to write this boatload of fluff.

Masterlist

You've been acting secretive lately.

To anyone less aware, it might go unnoticed. But Wednesday had sharp senses.

And when regarding the subject of her affections, her senses are extra sharp.

The changes started a little over a week ago. You'd say you're busy after classes yet not tell her why; you won't allow her into your dorm anymore or, if you do, you always need a few minutes alone to 'tidy it up'; and she once caught you and Enid gossiping around, big smiles on your faces — especially yours — though when she asked what it was about, you changed the subject before giving her a definitive answer.

It's meaningless to worry about it, childish even, yet it bothers the Addams girl. She feels as if there's a small barrier between you that shouldn't have been there anymore.

She, of course, would never let you know about it.

"We happen to have a common free period after lunch today," Wednesday informed you out of the blue, keeping a steady hold of the Hibiscus flower as you carefully plucked out its petals — for someone who loves nature, Wednesday was strangely surprised when she learned you were willing to 'destroy' it, in order to make tea.

You froze your motions with the tweezers as you glanced up at her, "yeah?"

Wednesday nodded once, shifting her gaze to the flower when she felt a familiar distant warmth on her cheeks, "maybe we could enjoy it together, coffee perhaps?"

Wind came through the open doors of the greenhouse, rustling the many leaves around, along with a few rogue wisps of your hair that Wednesday was itching to brush back. The place inside the glass walls and amidst the plants became as much of a safe haven for Wednesday as it was for you.

You gave her what was half a smile and half a grimace, raising your hand to tuck your hair behind your ear; "I won't be able to, I'm sorry."

There was no denying the sudden melancholy in Wednesday's features. The adorable pout on her lips.

"We could go tomorrow, though." Under the table, you bumped her boots with your sneakers, trying to get her eyes to meet yours again.

Running her thumb over one of the few remaining burgundy petals of the flower, Wednesday sighed, her dark eyes cast down, "of course, mi flor, however you prefer."

—

Wednesday Addams walking around Nevermore's hallways on nothing but her dark long-sleeve pajama shirt, black and white polka-dot pants and hair up in a bun was a sight to be seen, luckily no one would be out at this hour — and if she did bump into someone, she would just have to kill them.

But she didn't have many options. She couldn't sleep.

Her talk with you from earlier still bugged her, making her glare at her ceiling as if it personally offended her whilst most unkind scenarios popped up in her mind. Didn't you enjoy her company anymore? Were you unhappy with your relationship and slowly pulling away?

She had to know, and there was no way she'd be waiting until morning so she could ask like a normal person.

Wednesday knocked on your door and you answered rather quickly, indicating that you too, were still awake at past one in the morning.

"Hi," your smile was instant when you saw her on the other side of the door, biting back a comment about her rather adorable clothes, choosing instead to stash the sight on your best memories, "is everything okay?"

"May I come in?" Was all Wednesday asked.

You hesitated, "uh- yeah, just a second."

Wednesday saw herself, yet again, having a staring contest with the dark wood of your door while you most likely hid something from her. She tried to ignore the unpleasant twisting of her stomach.

You opened the door again not a minute later, motioning her in and closing it back again after she was inside.

Maybe it was because your soul could read her heartbeats as if they were a favorite book, but Wednesday appreciates that she sometimes doesn't have to say a word for you to know.

You came into her space slowly, giving her all the time to tell you otherwise. Wednesday instead took the tiniest step toward you, her gaze going down and back up to your eyes.

With a gentleness only she witnessed, you raised your hands to both her cheeks, gingerly pushing back the longer strands of her fringe; your fingers tracing her cheeks and raising the hair at the back of her neck. You then leaned up until your lips could leave the faintest of kisses on Wednesday's forehead.

Her eyes fell closed the second your skin touched hers, like the perfect spell.

When you pulled back, your hands traced their path down until you held onto her own. Your fingers intertwining.

"What's bothering you?"

Wednesday's eyes blinked open lazily, her mouth dry because of the tenderness you gifted her with.

"Have you been… unhappy with us?" Wednesday asked, sounding the most hesitant you ever heard her.

You frowned as if she spoke in a foreign language you had no idea on how to begin understanding; "of course not, why would you say that?"

Setting her jaw tightly in place, Wednesday chooses to focus on your dirty sneakers haphazardly resting near the door instead of your eyes. "You don't seem to want to spend time together anymore, and I feel you're not telling me something."

You couldn't help but grin, because how foolish of you to think she wouldn't notice.

"If you're unhappy, you must tell me," she pressed, taking another step closer to you as her hands gripped yours tighter, "I know I'm not the… perfect partner but-"

"You are," you interrupted her in the same heartbeat, bringing one of her hands up to your lips so you could kiss her knuckles, "and there's no one that could make me happier," you promised against her skin before letting go, walking around her and to your wardrobe.

Wednesday watched with a deep frown as you shuffled through your stuff, her skin still tingling.

"I was going to wait to give you this on a more… special occasion," you told her, biting onto your lip as you looked at your creation in your hands, your heart beating loudly in your chest. With a deep breath in, you turned to face Wednesday again, "but since you're so impatient," you teased, "I guess now is as good a time as any."

The moonlight coming through your window illuminated it perfectly. Vines and tiny branches formed the perfect shape of a crow, little bits of it still adorning moss and small leaves but it added character; on its beak, it held a tiny basket made of the same material — undoubtedly by your skilled hands — inside it, rested a little potted cactus.

You extended the gift for Wednesday, holding onto your breath as you watched her wide eyes move from your face to your hands and back. "I made it for you," you encouraged shyly.

With careful hands, Wednesday took her gift. Her fingers traced over the shape of the bird as she still strived to come up with words.

"I will admit that I got a little excited about finishing it," you chuckled timidly, "I'm sorry it got a bit in the way of our time together."

Few people have gifted Wednesday with something so 'simple' yet so meaningful, this was the result of probably hours of work for you, and you did it for her.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me in your room too," you told her with a fond gaze.

Wednesday glanced back up at you with the beginnings of a smile threatening to show on her lips.

You scrunched your nose, "cheesy, I know."

Whatever unkind thoughts Wednesday had in her mind were vanquished right away, replaced instead by a nauseating emotion she couldn't get enough of.

Carefully placing the gift on your nightstand, Wednesday took meaningful steps toward you until she could take hold of your waist and her lips were just a breath away from yours. "I'll treasure it forever," she said quietly, like a secret against your lips.

She had no intentions of going back to her room for the night.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[the---hermit]

Babel by R.F. Kuang

I got this book last year, and then procrastinated picking it up for months. I don't know what made me feel intimidated, but I was a bit blocked. And then I decided to finally give it a try. I spent a whole month on it and though my reading was slow I loved this book. I was a bit unsure about the historical fantasy before reading the novel, because I know that as an historian historical fiction doesn't alwasy work for me. But it worked so well, the author did an amazing job and I loved the setting. The fantasy element was so clever and flowed perfectly with the story providing a lot of thought provoking conversations and reflections. It is definitely a dark academia book but to be honest that was not what stayed with me at all. Its themes of language and translation as well as colonialism and racism are at the core of this novel, academia is the setting and it is very much influential but it's not the first thing that will come to my mind when thinking about Babel in the future, and belive me I will be thinking about this book a lot. I really like R.F. Kuang's writing and I will be keeping an eye out for more of her fantasy in the future. I have finished this book over a week ago and I am still unable to for coherent thoughts on it, simply because I have too many thoughts. I truly adored it, the ending was very good, though if I could change something I would have the epilogue moved before the last scene of the last chapter as I think that was a stronger ending. Aside this, my only other negative thought is that the pacing felt a bit weird at times, but it's really not a big deal. I definitely do recommend reading this novel. And I think it could work even for people who don't normally read a lot of fantasy, so don't let intimidate you. I wish this book had been published when I was in high school studying languages I think it would have been even more influential for me at that time of my life. I have also been going insane over the subtitle of the book "the necessity of violence". Talking about it would mean a lot of spoilers so I won't get into deep, but after finishing the novel that in particular really stayed with me and it's been at the core of most of my thoughts about the book. I do wonder why the Italian translation didn't keep it, as the only subtitle in this edition is "an arcane history". This review feels more like a post-reading rant, but this is everything my brain can produce at the moment. Hopefully it was enough to convince a few people to add this novel to their tbr pile.

[stnexus]

sketching out plans…!

gojo satoru x black!fem!reader x geto suguru

college student + artist au

story masterlist

minors dni, 18+

summary: the world appears so much more colorful when you major in art. a balance between mystery and connection. you cannot, however, claim that the bond between you and your two best friends from childhood had the same balance. you were caught in the crossfire as everything went left between gojo and geto once you all entered the college scene. left to tackle your own conflicting thoughts while trying help to repair their friendship. your only question is: why did everything go wrong?

cw: eventually nsfw (not this chapter), pet names (no use of y/n), pining, poly!satosugu mentions, childhood friends to lovers trope, food + eating mentioned, bickering + petty arguments, academic stress (gojo just loves procrastinating), explicit language, utahime is a professor in here (LMAO, not even a warning but it’s funny to me)

wc: 2.5k+

CHAPTER ONE

“...and if you have no questions, that’s all for today's class.” your professor's voice circled the intimately spaced classroom. the warm sunlight from the window across from you bounced off your brown skin as it seemed to pour into the room with no restrictions. well, the complete lack of shade would definitely be to blame. the heat the sun provided was wonderful in your usually cold classes, but professor utahime must enjoy seeing her students suffer with the lack of ac usage. the classroom was always hot, sweltering even. the heat so annoying, you had pulled your braids into a low bun after entering the classroom.

“psst…” your name followed the sound of someone trying to catch your attention — a voice you knew all too well. well enough to roll your eyes at his usual antics before even meeting his gaze. turning towards the white-haired man behind you, a look of slight annoyance covered your face as you prompted him to go on with what he had needed your attention so badly for.

“i didn’t do the project that’s due tomorrow; you’ve gotta help me,” he seemed to plead as his voice was pushed through a stressed-filled whisper. his revelation was of no surprise to you; he had been a procrastinator all throughout your childhood. yet he always managed to be at the top of any class. 

“gojo, that project was assigned two weeks ago.” you deadpanned as you stood from your stool. packing up your art supplies into your carrying case in the process. “what have you been doing?” you questioned.

“a little bit of everything, actually— but that’s besides the point,” gojo said as he mimicked your actions and packed his bag. “if i don’t get this project done, she’ll drop me by two grades. my perfect ‘a’ will fall to a ‘c’.”

“oh, i see, you want me to save you.”

“yes— NO!”

professor utahime paused her actions from her spot at the front of the class to peer over at the two of you. her black hair with hints of purple glimmering under the natural light in the room. the scar that adorned her face shifted a bit as she sent a soft smile your way, only to shake her head at gojo before returning to her previous actions. not only did it disturb her but others who tried to quickly pack up their belongings. though, they only gave a slight flinch and quick glance.

“no, it’s not like that, i swear. i just need a few opinions on my starting point.” gojo brought his voice back down to a whisper.

“mhm, right. like when you needed my opinion last time and i did your entire project outline—” your voice was cut short as gojo clamped one of his big, cold hands over your mouth. a rushed and panicked shhh falling from his pink lip as he watched professor utahime glide through the classroom with her belongings in her hand, taking her leave as quickly as she could.

“gojo, let her go.” a calm voice from behind you spoke. a moment of annoyance flashed across the white-haired man’s face as he looked at the person behind you. as if they had had the audacity to speak to him as the voice chimed up again, “it’s not her fault that you’ve been slacking. learn to keep up.”

letting his hand grab at your jaw for a moment, gojo squished your cheeks together, your glossy lips puckering out. white eyelashes framing his sparkling blue eyes as he peered at you, smiling at how goofy you looked. you could feel your stomach flutter at the action, but you quickly brushed it off. 

“looks like we’ve got ourselves a superhero ready to take action, princess,” gojo cooed. dropping his hand to his side, you were able to turn and meet the face of the new company. another man you had known all throughout your childhood; his long, raven black hair was quite a contrast to the bright-haired man that had just spoken. 

“geto, i happen to value the opinions of smart people. though you wouldn’t know that, seeing as i’d never have to come to you for an opinion,” gojo chided. 

“guess that’s the same reason why your own opinions aren’t worth much—”

“hey! you two have been at it since we’ve gotten to this damn school. it’s been three years,” you interrupted as you stood between them. “whatever happened, just kiss and make up already at this point.”

“he started it!” gojo interjected like a kid arguing his case to an authority figure. 

“and finished it too,” geto said, letting a lazy smile play at his lips. a smile you wished you had more time to admire, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. 

pinching your nose bridge, you grabbed your bag and hoisted it onto your shoulder. only to quickly be relieved of its weight as geto slid it off of your shoulder with ease. his warm hand brushing against your shoulder as he did so. damned camisole, would have worn a regular t-shirt and bear the brunt of sweating if you knew a simple hand brushing against you would make you momentarily dizzy. 

“what are you still doing here anyway? don’t you have another class?”

gojo’s question interrupted their bickering as you all exited the classroom. only for geto to respond with a simple ‘it got canceled’. which you knew you would all be headed to your shared apartment building at the same time. it was definitely a task living in the same apartment building as the two men, especially seeing as they could not seem to get along to save their own lives.

though you had yet to understand why.

gojo and geto were within the top three of professor utahime’s class, amassing major credit with professional artists and opportunities to work alongside them. sometimes at the same time; which must have been a horror story for the artist they had shadowed. they shared some of the same interests, tastes in art, and even simple hobbies.

their rift throughout college just did not make sense.

“i’ll see you two later; i need to make a stop at the store before i get to the apartments.”

“awe, don’t leave me here with this bonehead,” gojo whined. his actions caused a small chuckle to leave your lips as you pulled out your key, pressing the unlock button on your keychain.

“you’ll be around each other for all of two minutes just walking to your cars,” you smiled as you opened your car door mentioning the two almost identical black suvs they owned.

“we don’t know what gojo can do in those two minutes,” geto spoke, “he might even run me off the road.”

“good idea. now i might,” gojo mumbled under his breath. “i’ll leave first. ‘need at least a five-pace headstart before i do something i’ll regret. drive safe, beautiful.” 

“you too, ‘toru!”

with a shake of your heads, both you and geto watched as gojo parted ways with you both, until he could no longer be seen in the distance. sliding into your car, you looked up at geto from the open door. the man stood over you as he looked down at you. his eyes seemed to scan your face for just a moment, but that moment made your heart beat just a little bit faster.

“he’s really something,” you spoke with a smile, “but you are too. how long are you two going to keep this weird ass feud going?”

“as long as ‘toru wants to,” geto said matter of factly, “remember, i didn’t start this.”

“well, it needs to end. i need my friends to act normal again. how everything used to be,” you pouted a little as you stuck the key in the ignition. your car revving to life as you turned the key. “we graduate next year. i don’t want us to get out in the ‘real world’ and still be on bad terms.”

“i’m trying my best; sometimes it’s just hard not to be just as petty,” geto confessed with his thin brows furrowed, but you already knew that.

a beat of silence fell over you two as you played it off with a sad smile. with a small hum, you pushed out a stressed i’ll get going, i guess. 

“drive safe, princess.”

the ride home from the store seemed to drag; you had only stopped to pick up the list of things needed to make dinner. your latest craving about to be satisfied by yourself. grabbing the four grocery bags from the passenger seat, you made your way up to the fourth floor by using the elevator. once you had begun to start cooking, it was not long after you heard a knocking on your door. gojo being the one on the other side once the door was swung open. his supplies in hand as he flashed a charming smile. only to be met with an unamused sigh from you. 

“oh come on, just think of it as us bonding,” gojo persuaded, then deadpanned. “if i don’t get this in tomorrow, professor utahime might kick my ass, seriously.”

“i actually want to see it happen,” you spoke smoothly as you backed up and allowed him into your apartment. “how did you even know i was home?”

“we all live on the same floor, so i can hear when your door closes. your car is always parked next to suguru’s outside, and i can smell your cooking a mile away— which reminds me, what are we eating for dinner?”

“after i just found out you stalk me, ‘we’ isn’t in the equation.”

“so had i not admitted to that, there was a ‘we’?” gojo sent a boyish smile your way. to say you almost melted — at what you perceived as a fleeting joke — was an understatement. though you played everything off well, just as you always did.

“in your dreams, ‘toru.”

the party of two ended up drifting into the confines of your living room once you had both eaten. a few laughs and conversations made their way through the familiarity you both felt with each other. until you decided to let your words change the atmosphere.

“…satoru, what ever happened between you and sugu’ ?”

gojo’s charcoal pencil stopped in the middle of his drawing as he sat across from you on the loveseat you had. he had been working on trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to capture for the task at hand, drawing at random as you lay on the couch watching television. your black bonnet protecting your braids. if they could, you swear the walls would start crumbling under the weight of your words. as the white-haired man looked at you quietly.

“i don’t really want to talk about—”

“come on, don’t do this to me, ‘toru,” you whined as you sat up. “you talk to me about anything and everything.”

“we all just belong—…sugu’ and i just grew apart as friends. something i won’t let happen to us,” gojo spoke, but you knew there was much more to be said by the way he cut himself off. silence continued to envelop the room as you two held eye contact from across the room.

had he been anyone else in this moment, you would swear he was bursting at the seams to say something he would regret, his eyes telling a different story. using his words like a safety net. but gojo was not one to regret; he always spoke his mind with confidence. so why would that change now?

though you could not judge him if he chose to keep this one thing to himself. you had your secrets, too. it was not easy being best friends with gojo or geto. years had been spent pushing any thoughts you had for them, outside of friendship boundaries, aside. you were in over your head, thinking they had those lingering thoughts too. why pry at gojo for something he refused to share?

“okay,” was the only word that fell from your lips as you laid back down. watching as the man in the corner of the room nodded in acknowledgement as he went back to drawing. though it was clear that the atmosphere had been altered to no return.

you woke up when the sound of your front door closing echoed through the apartment. somewhat startled by the sound, only to find you had been covered with a blanket and a pillow had been placed under your head. you squinted as you tried to focus your eyes and take in the living room. gojo had left, it seemed. leaving you alone for the night. from the window parallel to the couch, you could see that daytime had drifted into nightfall.

stretching out your arms, you grabbed the blanket that had been covering you and your pillow as you directed yourself to your bedroom.

tossing yourself stomach first onto your bed, the wooden headboard thumped against the wall slightly. a groan left your lips as you heard the ping of a text notification from your phone that you had left charging on your nightstand. reaching for it blindly, you let the charger be yanked from the charging port. the picture of geto, gojo and yourself on move in day three years ago illuminated the screen. causing you to pause for just a second.

from: gojo [one attachment] u are my muse. i wanted to make sure it was okay with u before showing it on wednesday

your heart seemed to skip at the first four words, but quickly it caught up with its usual pace as you realized he had meant he had used you as inspiration for his project. the text was opened promptly, and you were met with a charcoal drawing of yourself. your arm tossed over your eyes, your bonnet slipping back to show the edge of your hairline, and a bit of the parting for your braids as you slept. 

it was not the first time any of the boys had drawn you. you all used each other for inspiration from time to time.

to: gojo it’s great. thanks for not drawing me drooling good night, ‘toru

from: gojo nah the drool was in the rough draft thank u, seriously, u saved my gpa good nightttt

here you were again, like every night since high school. left to your thoughts. heart using your mind as a weapon against yourself. you had been in the crossfire of gojo and geto’s confusing feud for years now, but they lacked clarity on how you had struggled between their bickering. 

all for what?

you three have been the best of friends since age ten. a bond that you thought would never vanish due to years of connection seemed to be diminishing before your very eyes. your own thoughts of them as much more were always pushed out due to fear of tarnishing something in a confession, but they damn sure were pushed down when the friendship between geto and gojo began to waiver.

it was nights like these that you would stare at their pictures in your camera roll, just like you are doing now.

questions swarmed your brain like a sweeping tornado. how could you hold feelings for both of your best friends? why did hearing their nicknames for you make your heart get stuck in your throat? how did everything go wrong within one semester? why did gojo not feel safe enough to talk to you about what happened?

[ezziefox]

The Reason Why I Can't Move On in Writing + more depressing thoughts

I think I just realized why it's so hard for me to surpass three or four chapters max when I begin to write my new books, or why I always find myself taking a break and taking forever to get back to it, and when I do, the momentum that might've never been there in the first place is lost and I don't know where to pick back up in my WIP.

I recently became more and more aware of how much time I spend on social media. But that's not the big issue I'm talking about here. It's my attention span and my anxiety.

Addressing the Anxiety

There are a lot of things in my life that I get anxiety about, and it largely comes into play whenever I'm writing in my free time. As I still attend high school, I don't get much free time, but even in my free time I fret about how much time I have. Because when I write, I love to get lost in it, listening to my music and all. But, as a person who has a strong hatred for my school especially and nothing can ever fix that hatred (the pandemic ruined everything for me in that regards), every time I open Word or some other app to begin my writing, instead of thinking about getting lost in my work and getting in the moment and writing seamlessly like I did when I first discovered Wattpad back in the summer of 2020, I instead focus on how much time I have to write what I want to.

And because of this constant timer and thought in the back of my head, instead of getting lost in what I love to do, I am instead constantly fearful and anxious of my time running out before I have to go to bed to return to the very place that depresses and maddens me to my core. And I have nothing nor no one to blame but my own mental health. But I still can never find myself liking school to at least make myself feel better. I wish I could attend a different school, even in a different country. I really wish I could have a restart so that I can have an open mind and freeer mind to continue doing what I love.

And in times when I get endless time like I've never before like summer, that idea of endless time and "soon I'll be able to do what I want to do with no push or setbacks" quickly dries up and goes out the door. Especially when my trip is close to ending, all I can ever really think about is how much time I have left. I'd rather spend it procrastinating and "having fun" whilst still realizing that it will come to an end, rather than get lost in my writing and when I shut the computer and look up, it's time for all fun to end — the free paper is burned.

I genuinely don't know how I'm going to get through this part without a complete mind reset and change of environment. As it goes for the mind reset part, my mind will never change. Not without a significant change in my life. And I hate that. But my mind refuses to be unstuck from the place it is in now.

As for...

Addressing My Short Attention Span

Because of the aforementioned anxiety with time I addressed, I've begun to consume my media (entertainment & procrastination) in short form so that it feels like I've gotten in so much fun in such a short time that I feel satisfied. How to explain this in simpler terms?.... Well.... I'm constantly fearful and anxious of my free time ending that I convince myself it's been longer than it's truly been by watching short-form content such as YT shorts, Instagram reels, and when I watch actual full-length videos, instead of watching completely through the video, I simply listen to it for a short while, and to get the gist of it and thoughts on it, I read through the comments while watching as little of it as I need to before I quickly lose interest and go find a different video to watch.

Tonight, as I write this to save it as a draft to post tomorrow, I've been trying to fix my attention span by sitting through some of the old content I used to watch, that being documentary-type videos. It's been going well so far. I've sat through all the videos and seldom went to the comment section. I didn't skip through any of them or anything like that. However, I did stop in the middle of one video to come and write this right now. I knew I could've waited until tomorrow, but I feared I wouldn't have been able too convey the emotions of realization that I am feeling right now as well and explain it as well as I am feeling it.

——

I'm hoping that this truly is my issue, and that once I fix my attention span, I can at least get through writing more chapters, no matter how long it takes. I'm fully aware that especially once school starts back, so will the anxiety leeching itself onto me. But anything is better than nothing, right?

Sigh.

If you're just like me, or something like it, my advice to address and sort out your attention span. And if it's within your reach and capability, your anxiety too. It's these things that hold us back from accomplishing anything in life, and writing is something we wish to accomplish, so if you can, find a way to conquer them. Do what I currently can't.

All of this deeply saddens me. I don't know where to go next, if I even want to move, or what will find its way to me next. Needless to say, I don't have much hopes for the future, but at the same time I do.

I like to tell myself I always give up, and then I realize that I never truly do and it's always f*cking with me. Sometimes I wish I would just give up, because no matter how much I want things or desperately hope that some miracle will grant certain things in my life, I always end up f-cking myself over in the end. I am mentally f-cked and tired. No matter how many breaks I get, it never seems to be enough for me.

And I always want more. I get told I already have everything. It's just so much going on in my life from family, to friends, to my own mind that just constantly fucks me over and disregards me in every way. I don't want to drop any personal information regarding the people around me, so that's all I'm gonna say about that.

You know, today I realized that it's one thing: being a kid and never truly realizing how much something or someone in your life is mentally f-cking you over, versus growing older and you're only a teen and you realize it in real time as it's happening. Earlier I wished that I could just be the former: be a kid that doesn't realize the mental gravity and toll that's being taken on me as I have no one but my cousin in my life that truly understands me and went through the same experiences as me and it's mentally f_cked her too.

[shrekgogurt]

Well folks. I’m on my substitute teaching grind again this week! Scheduled each day up in hopes of getting some good writing done. I did on Monday! And then proceeded to finally start reading @ninemagicks Game/Set/Match yesterday and did that every bell so uhhhhhh. Today………..well ummmmm…..yeah today I worked on chapter graphics because I’m in big procrastination mode. I want to keep riding this wave of engagement (that sounds corporate gross) but I’m also very much in my head about delivering. I should probably channel this energy into writing the chapter since such pressure is Baz’s literal arc but uhhhhhhhh why do that when I could Simon avoid. I love being mentally well!

One might say I need to find my own bravado. (more under the cut)

lol the chapter title for 13 is bravado by lorde

ok anyway

“Work In Progress Wednesday” right? That means I can talk about the progress of every part of the process? Huh? Yeah? Are you gonna stop me? TRY! TRY TO STOP ME!

Aggression aside, let’s get into it.

As previously stated on Sunday, we find ourselves at intermission. But that’s just the theatrical way of slicing up the story. The fun thing about 24 chapters (I got rid of my originally planned intermission chapter because I didn’t want to write it anymore) is that math really loves the number 24. It’s scrumptious. Yummily divisible. Ergo, IKABIKAM also has/is/will be deliciously divided. Afterall, I do keep saying I’m cooking on it.

Now, to put @alexalexinii on blast (sorry for perceiving you), they wrote in the tags of a Chapter 12 reblog: #made me realise that this fic had proper arcs? And I grinned. I cackled. I rubbed my grubby little hands together at the top of my tower as I’ve been doing this whole time because oh ARCS???????? YOU WANT ARCS???????????? I’VE GOT ARCS LYING IN WAIT LIKE YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE. (I love overselling myself.)

Allow me to let you in on some of the building blocks thus far.

Chapters 1, 2, 3: a complicated reunion which is shaky but ultimately sets up

Chapters 4, 5, 6: developing the friendship which is a crucial foundation for

Chapters 7, 8, 9: the gay (Baz’s increasingly more external “hi i’m gay”, Simon’s internal “oh wait me too”) which then explodes into

Chapters 10, 11, 12: all that political parent stuff that’s been hinted at in passing which is BIG relevant and incredibly intertwined in this tangled up mess that leads into the work of….

You get it. They’re mini trilogies. Don’t ask me about dividing the chapters into groups of four because I didn’t have that in mind while writing. I like threes better. Always have. Absolute banger of a prime number.

If you for some reason want to read more about the structure, I write a little more about it in this wipsday from when I was procrastinating 9.

Now, @cutestkilla keeps telling me I’m at the downward slope now but honestly delivering on what I’ve set up scares the shit out of me WAY more than the grunt work. I’m uhhhhh yeah. This is why I’m chronically unable to finish projects but by GOD I will finish this one. I swear by it.

So here are three sentences. You get to guess from who and when.

Loving him comes as naturally as breathing. It’s intuitive when I’m not thinking. Or rather, when I’m not panicking.

If you want to follow along with all the songs I’m hyperfixating on as inspiration I’ve been sharing them over on the “shrogurt” instagram. There’s nothing I love more than talking way too much about this damn fic. Thanks for reading!

And thank you for the tags today: @nausikaaa @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @artsyunderstudy @prettygoododds @emeryhall

Now tagging: @brilla-brilla-estrellita @captain-aralias @dani-vc @ebbpettier @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hagnoart @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @messofthejess @moodandmist @mooncello @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @valeffelees @whogaveyoupermission @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[yenqa]

MORE TIME WITH YOU!

chapter 20

too sweet coffee

warnings : swearing, angst, being overwhelmed, shitty writing

ignore timestamps!

not proofread!

niki didn’t expect you to say yes, well he should’ve because he felt almost disbelief when you agreed.

he didn’t even plan anything out, other than meeting at the cafe. he had procrastinated it so much that he only left a few hours to plan.

maybe i don’t need a plan, and i can just go with the flow?

he settled on that option, as he anxiously picked out an outfit.

these might look bad together, does this color look good on me? does y/n like my style? should i get jay hyung to style me?

niki had too big of an ego to ask jay, but he had to build his courage somehow.

jay had always helped niki pick outfits, but some teasing was always included. jay was the only one who knew he was meeting up with y/n, and he knew jay would keep it that way.

when he was being driven to the secluded cafe, he couldn’t stay still. whether it was fidgeting with his hands, moving his hair, or shakily doing anything on his phone.

every time the entry bell chimed his head was whipped up, searching for your familiar face.

on the third chime was when you came in, quickly spotting niki and sitting down.

“hi niki! did you order anything yet?” you ask, adjusting your hat.

“n-no i haven’t yet, do you want me to get you anything?”

fuck why was he so nervous? it had barely been a week since he last saw you.

“oh yes please! i’ll get a latte!”

niki nods, standing up to order.

he had sat back down when the order was placed, “so, did you have something you want to tell me or this is just a spontaneous meeting?” you ask, leaning on the table.

“uh actually yeah- i have something to tell you,”

you smile at him, “what is it then?”

“uh- basically i-“

“order number sixteen!”

niki’s head is shot up, informing you it was your order and going to get it, his hands shakily hand the cup to you before sitting down.

“woah they made the drinks pretty quick, but sorry, what were you saying?”

niki coughs, “oh yeah, um- ilikeyou.” niki rushes his words out. so fast, you could barely catch it.

“sorry, what?”

“i like you, y/n.”

your throat goes dry as niki’s face turns into a look of disappointment.

“i’m sorry i just-“ his voice was suddenly blocked out by your thoughts. they all seemed to be swirling around your mind, too much was going on. he liked you. the coffee had suddenly became too sweet. dispatch was probably on the way. your company will be mad at you for sneaking out. everything is wrong.

you didn’t notice when your legs had taken you out of the cafe, without your too sweet coffee niki had ordered for you.

niki was in shock, as you had left the cafe without saying a word, he knew this would happen. he should’ve never been hopeful. he should’ve never believed his members. he should’ve never met you.

but now, all was left was to come back home, to a sympathetic jay.

back masterlist next

sypnosis - a new idol variety show makes 4th generation maknaes take care of a kid for a month! what happens when niki gets paired with a random girl who he maybe had one interaction with a few months ago? and when the reality show ends, why does he want to spend more time with you?

a/n : did yall see this coming 😂😂🤞(i Dont care this is overdone!)

taglist : @hanniluvi @aki1e @bookishcalls @imhuh @millksea @nejisputa @asunova @gojosimpp @mitsukifilms @sstarrysshit @kalliyen @inlovewsimjaeyun @invusblog @astrowonomical @luvdokja @trsrina @kittyeij @niktwazny303 @voidbeomgyu @jeongintwt @szvirm @zi-ever @luveuly @ilovewonyo @blossomnct @ineedaherosavemeenow @ahnneyong @anti-romanitc-blues @flower-lise @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @strwberrydinosaur @luviehyuk @pw00kkat @lomzy5 @i-yeseo @7myoi @seesaweun @captain-satan @kyanmeai @gfksn @xiaoderrrr @softiegukk @soov @bougiesunoo @wonwonieeee @nomniki @flwrsforriki @meiiiwa @2tothee2 @mavlogist @judeduartewannabe @homohoons @nnniika

bold can’t be tagged!

[fumifooms]

Hello! Anon Asker again here. Recently got through the latest volume on Kindle with the Dungeon Master arc.

(Spoilers ahead for others...?) Now that we got most of the characters' backstories, I feel the earlier black magic ritual they did for Falin makes a lot more sense.

Marcille is desperate to keep the people she loves alive given her sense of loss and persisting dread about outliving everyone she knows.

Laios (apart from loving his sister) has lingering guilt from having left Falin behind before, exacerbated by her sacrifice and the way she always puts him first.

Then there's Senshi and Chilchuck who have on more than one occasion shown a distaste for magic.

Yet Senshi didn't fight it much and stood by them, because he himself is not a stranger to loss, especially when it comes to loved ones who have sacrificed for others so that one might survive.

But Chilchuck I'm not so sure. He was the most vocal in how against black/ancient magic he was, but also didn't really stop it. Maybe we can attribute it to his own abandonment issues by his wife, or just that he could imagine what it might be like if it was one of his daughters (as we saw in a small chapter art where he had a nightmare of his daughters dead). But I wanted to hear your take on this if in case you do.

Sorry for taking so long to get back to this ask! It’s a layered topic so I procrastinated on polishing my answer.

I think this is super interesting! Especially because we’re coming at this from totally different angles, since reading the manga I never thought that using dark magic didn’t make sense considering the situation or was weird. You’re coming at this at an angle of what personal reasons would make a character do this, while I looked at it in an angle of what social reasons would make a character let it happen. Post gonna be a lil long so I put it under cut! Tldr with your angle though, I think you’ve pretty much got it spot on and I don’t have much to add, I think your take it’s very interesting, and true.

So, why not do dark magic?

Throughout the whole manga, very early on too, we see our characters testing their society’s perception on morality in ways that we see that the moral wall was pretty baseless in the first place, mainly the disgust towards eating monsters for instance. Or sometimes, the morality of characters is lacking to our standards, having a perception we’d see as twisted, like in the kobold extra. Like Marcille talks about in the barometz/direwolves chapter, eating something "filthy" will make you filthy too and that’s why Marcille was innately so opposed to eating monsters. We also see it with the orcs’ chapter for example, Kui tackles a lot of difficult themes with nuance like racism, both the orcs and the elves have their perspective and their big faults in their part in their conflict, but in the end who’s right and who’s wrong isn’t spelled out for the readers. The point is that morality in the manga isn’t set in stone, it’s something that as the reader you draw the line on yourself, and we see that our characters aren’t infallible moral compasses either. The use of magic, too, is left up in the air on how good and moral it is to use, "unnatural" vs efficent vs cheap cop-out vs harmless or harmful.

So for me, when Marcille explained dark magic, how it works and why it’s forbidden, ‘yeah there’s probably a hidden catch in there’ I thought but I was super on board with it. To me, not using dark magic because it’s different and less known would be like not wanting to eat monsters for the same reason: more born out of fear and ignorance than reasonable and rational.

So we’re coming at this from different angles like I said, while you focused on character motivations for being fine with such an unholy act of magic I thought of it in an ambiguous morality and consequences way. So instead of "why should/would they do it?" to me it’s "why not?". And to me it’s a bit like "Well, no one should steal! But if the person really needs to for food, well I could let it go" for the characters’ thought process, though of course the instinctive revulsion and the stakes are much higher. They have all worked really hard to get there, and if there’s a chance it’ll go well then they would try it. Senshi and Chilchuck are much more reticent than the others like you said, but they’re able in the end to either rationalize doing it enough, or just prefer to listen to the directives and see how it goes by taking a more passive role. Not unlike how peer pressure can get you to participate in something you don’t want to do. But to me it’s a lot about growing accustomed to the unknown, hearing about it from Marcille who researches dark magic instead of the half-foot anecdotes about "dark elves" and "dark magic" used to nefarious ends. Which, presumably dark elves don’t even exist, we don’t know exactly what the half-foot definition of dark elves is, it’s a misconception and it’s a boogeyman, which is part of my point.

Where does Chilchuck’s distaste of magic come from? Elves. But by then Marcille, by being an elf herself and being trustworthy and friendly thus far, has started to chip away at these preconceived notions. Maybe what he heard wasn’t foolproof, after all. Under pressure and stakes like they were, people with even an usually very rigid morality may bend a little, steal, etc. To me, even if Chilchuck brought it up later, still very uneasy with it, it didn’t mean that him doing it was unrealistic or weird. People do things half-heartedly or unsure on if it’s the right thing to do sometimes, especially under pressure. Their will wavered while Laios and Marcille’s didn’t, and ultimately that’s what decided what they would do. What’s the other option? Marcille and Laios weren’t going to back down, so what, fight them so they don’t do it? Otherwise they’ll do it anyways with or without you, and then is there even a point to putting up a fight about it or even leaving? You can see the raationalization being done in real time, if you reverse engineer it.

Ironically enough I think this scene set after they do it depicts it perfectly: Chil lays out why he doesn’t like the thought of it, she responds on why dark magic being bad is up for debate, and he goes to argue but ultimately chooses not to and goes along with the group.

But yes it’s an interesting topic! Marcille researches positive uses for ancient magic so of course she’d be ready to use it to revive Falin, Laios has normalized reviving and magic a lot and overly relies on it, and Senshi doesn’t want to do it, but it’s because of his ideal- because of his instinctive recoil at anything that is magical or "unnatural"… Except for the golems. Because of how he sees himself as part of a larger ecosystem and cycle of life that humans shouldn’t have control over, that should know how to sustainably live with nature without getting greedy or cocky… Except for when he idealized Anne the kelpie as his best friend that even though is a monster would never hurt him. He tends to pull away from others socially needlessly, not letting himself grow too close to people or a community, too. Point is, Senshi has his pitfalls and isn’t as inflexible as we might think, and not everything he does is rational or even consistent with his own beliefs under his normal circumstances, though I do think he’s the one who was/should be the most opposed to the reviving character wise.

And I said that Chilchuck’s reason for not liking dark magic is rooted in superstitions and elves and history- and that’s certainly true but it isn’t the full story either. While Senshi’s preoccupied about morals and his world view, Chilchuck is SCARED of it, he thinks of the CONSEQUENCES, not the act itself (though it also def doesn’t charm him either). And not just the direct consequences of what a dark magic resurrection means either, it comes up a lot that Chilchuck is worried for others and for himself, about careers or the law and generally the future, and tends to micromanage them or be on their case because of it. Made a lil compilation below, notice the trend, he’s very focused on what others will do if they learn that they did dark magic, he’s focused on hiding that they did, not grappling with the morality of it as much. He’s very worried about the legality of it. He sees it as a crime but not something that shatters his worldview y’know. And even after Marcille did it and uncovered that she researched dark magic, he still trusts her and her judgement, is only wary of her a but for a bit before going right back to being thick as thieves together.

I was gonna talk about racism as a plot point and through arcs in the series here but I think I made my point without it, so that’ll be a topic for another day. But yeah… Spoilers for the last volume stop here and skip to the last paragraph if you still haven’t read ut all (bless your Kindle reader soul, good luck waiting for the next chapters). Is the winged lion bad? He’s harmful, certainly, but he’s not evil, and at its base it’s an entity without a sense of morality. Dunmeshi tackles morality in a really interesting, typical of seinens way, and unity is another big theme, as much as racism is a narrative tool and plot point the lesson is that putting efforts into befriending people you don’t understand is good. And with some, like the winged lion, that’s not gonna pay off, but everyone deserves to be understood regardless. Narratively that’s why Laios is the character he is, and why we get to learn about Kabru, the orcs, the canaries, Thistle, even the demon, and see it under new lights. Kui is big on critical race theory and sociopolitical issues used in/for storytelling, and it shows. During canon Chilchuck is growing closer to an elf coworker and tentatively giving her his trust, which pays off, and that is enough to make him reconsider wether dark magic is that bad, and think of how much risk he’s willing to get into for the party. Whew got sidetracked by the narrative genius of Dunmeshi and Kui but, the point is that in the story, characters changing their mind on issues and having their viewpoints challenged is very much common and important.

Sooo yeah! As I said I do enjoy your perspective as well, I’d never thought of it that way so it was interesting. Hopefully this is an insightful post and not just a load of nothing that wasn’t relevant to your question haha. But yeah, while reading I truly approached it from a "why not" angle, instead of a "why yes". They don’t like the method but they do want Falin to live, which makes it easier to dirty their hands for. Wash your hands of it and don’t think about it too much afterwards. (Top 10 reasons why it’ll backfire! none of them will surprise you 🌟)

[eryiss]

[Jet x Freed] Cubicle Capers - Chapter Three

Summary: Jet was meant to do more. He was meant to do something with his degree. He was meant to have a purpose. He'd taken a job at Grimoire Pharmaceuticals to work his way up into a lab position, but found himself stuck in a cubicle. Every day the same. At least he had a new boss coming. Freed Justine. He’d be like the rest, though. Boring, outdated and.. hot as hell?

Notes: Hi all. Back again. Work hours are over, let’s see what happens. Again, this was requested by @jethro-art. Hope you enjoy.

Links: Ao3, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Epilogue

Chapter Three – The Late Night

Jet

Quarterly reports were a necessary evil, or so Grimoire Pharmaceuticals said. For the bosses and big wigs, it probably meant a better look into how big their Christmas bonuses – born from the exploitation of the sick and dying, of course – would be. For the menial workers like Jet, it meant pulling an all nighter finishing paperwork that apparently just couldn't wait another day.

The work always got dumped on Jet's desk. He'd been new to the workforce on the first quarterly report session, and hadn't known that it was always better to dawdle and procrastinate in the office. A fast worker was always given more to do. As such, five years later, Jet found himself alone in the office, slumped over his desk with the intake reports for the entire state, forced to input them into their own separate spreadsheet which would compare how their new rollout of allergy tablets were doing compared to market trends. It was boring as all hell, and he would rather be anywhere else.

An empty coffee cup, and the packaging from a convenience store sandwich cluttered his desk. He would have wanted something more to eat, but fast food wasn't allowed in the building. It was bad for the brand image, apparently.

Bull crap. Jet wondered what health benefits the BBQ Ribs, cheese fries and chocolate cake that was served in the executive canteen had.

"Jet?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning in his chair and brandishing a hole punch to throw at whoever had spoken. He had been sure he was the only one left in the office. Sure of it. But when he turned to see Freed looking down at him, it was obvious he was wrong.

"Hey, boss man," Jet said slowly. "How you doing?"

"Perfectly fine," Freed frowned. "Are you intending to throw that at me?"

Jet glanced to the hole punch. "Nah. Just like holding it. Like a, erm, fidget toy thing. I don't throw things."

"Right," Freed smiled a little. He did that a lot; smiling but not all the way. It was a good look – a little cocky, a little reserved – but it did make jet wonder what it would be like to see a full smile on Freed's handsome face. "Why are you still here? You know they won't pay you for work outside of your regular hours."

"Yeah, I know," Jet nodded slightly. It was weird. His old boss said that a few times, and it felt like he was rubbing it in his face, but when Freed said it it felt like an actual reminder. "But this has gotta be done, right?"

Freed followed Jet's wave of the hand towards the stack of papers. "That's quite a lot for one person. Shouldn't your team be helping?"

"Ah, it's kinda my thing to do the quarterlies," Jet shrugged, then glanced at the clock at the bottom right of his screen. "Eight o'clock's pretty late for you too? Get caught up in the paperwork?"

"Conference call. The board of directors wanted preliminary assessment of the figures despite the fact they're getting a full analysis at the end of the week. Entirely pointless," Freed sighed, his gaze still lingering on the paperwork. "Do you really expect to do an entire team's worth of work on your own. It hardly seems fair."

"It's fine. I'm like eighty percent done already," Jet shrugged. Freed kept looking at the stack of papers, then walked to Laki's cubicle and switched on her PC, taking half of the stack for himself before sitting at her desk. Jet watched him with bafflement for a moment as Freed logged into his own account. "You don't have to, man. I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to," Freed dismissed. "This way, it's done twice as fast."

"Seriously I can handle-"

"If you don't do as I say, I will discipline you, Jet," Freed warned with that half smile on his face, and it made Jet's inside squirm with a desire he couldn't quite quantify. He simply nodded, forced himself to put on a grin that hid the weird effect the threat had on him, and gave Freed a salute before he rolled his chair back to his desk and got back to working again.

The next hour was odd, to say the least.

It started off as quiet, with Freed occasionally asking questions on how to work the spreadsheet in a way no other boss would have. They'd assume they knew better and mess it up, leaving more work for Jet to do in fixing it.

At some point, the quiet of the office must have gotten to Freed, because a local radio station began to play from Laki's computer, tinny and annoying but breaking up the silence. Jet hadn't thought of that. Someone had brought in a radio once with their old boss, and they'd gotten yelled at for distracting the rest of the workers. It had been a nice hour while it had lasted. Maybe Freed wouldn't mind music on a workday.

Then, the radio had a competition. One of those stupid competitions; they played a small sound clip and asked people to call in and say what they thought it was. Freed idly huffed and said the sound was obviously the clatter of a fork on a plate. Jet had gaped at him and told him he was an idiot because that was a spanner on a metal tray! That turned into a twenty-minute argument between the two of them, wherein Jet told Freed his business school degree didn't mean crap in radio competitions, and Freed threatened to make an hour-long presentation on PowerPoint on the importance of hearing checkups because Jet seemed to be going deaf.

It was fun. Really fun.

Also, the noise was apparently a spoon in a sink, and then their argument had turned into who was closer. Freed claimed he was right because his contained cutlery. Jet claimed he was right because his had something hitting metal. Neither relented, and their arguing continued as they worked.

Then, just as the working night seemed close to ending and Jet paced his cubicle to stretch out his legs before the final stretch, he actually looked towards Freed. His tie was gone, top button undone, and his sleeves rolled up again. Fucking hell he looked sexy when a little ruffled.

And Jet might have sworn Freed did the next thing on purpose just to drive Jet to a state of madness. Freed picked up a bottle of water and squirted some of it over his face, sighing as the cold water hit his skin. Jet could do nothing but watch as his boss ran a hand over his damp face and through his hair, ruffling it enough to look unkempt for the first time. Droplets of water ran down his jaw, down his throat with his overly pronounced Adam's apple, before sliding down his partially exposed and rather defined chest.

Jet had never understood the desire to lick a man until then. Christ; a dizzy part of his mind screamed to drop to his knees.

"You hot, huh?" He said instead. Freed turned to him, smiled a little guilty.

"I've been trying to get building services to fix the heating. It's ridiculous they haven't," Freed said in explanation.

"Yeah, that's not happening. We've been stuck in sauna mode for years," Jet laughed, glancing at the always-on heaters in the corner. "Gotta say though, late nights really are tough. Gonna need a drink after this."

"Me too," Freed agreed.

And Jet, for reasons he'd never understand, spoke again without thinking. "We could go out when we're done maybe. There's a good bar down the street. Not exactly fancy or anythin', and it might not be up to your rich boy standards but-"

"I'd like to get a drink with you," Freed cut in, and Jet had to take a second to understand what he said.

When he did, he just nodded, and silently digested the fact that he was going to go and get a late-night drink with his boss. His boss who was sexy as all hell, terrible at guessing sounds from radio competitions, and had just made the last hour of work better than anything he'd done in the office for five whole years.

———

Freed

The walk to the bar down the street was just long enough for the small awkwardness between Freed and Jet to return, and Freed was having none of that. That was why he walked directly to the bar and ordered them both a large pitcher of beer to share and two-pint glasses. Jet grinned at him, and they walked to a small table in the corner of the room and settled.

Despite what Jet had said, the bar was incredibly nice. Modern in a hipster sort of way, with arcade machines and pinball machines lining the walls. It wasn't where Freed would choose to go, nor did he think it was one of Jet's regular haunts, but it was nice enough for one evening.

As Freed got accustomed to his surroundings, Jet downed an entire pint of beer.

Freed knew he was wandering into dangerous grounds with this. Jet was, by and large, his favourite employee. Through the few months they'd been working together, more and more of the office had been coming out of their shells, slowly and cautiously. Jet was the outlier, the front runner in being himself, and Freed had grown accustomed to the glimmer of fire that Jet had inside of him. Freed's eyes always were drawn to Jet, and breaking down the barrier of an employer employee dynamic could be a step too far.

But, Freed could handle this. He'd known Jet was handsome from the off. Maybe not in an Abercrombie and Fitch way, but who actually liked models? Jet was sharp, pointy and had a stern resting face. He looked like he could be nasty, but chose to be cheerful. He had bright ginger hair and pointy teeth and, were Freed to let himself think such things, Freed would love to run his fingers across both. He'd seen all of this from the first time they met, and he could control himself perfectly fine. Being at a bar made no difference.

He would keep things to manageable and responsible topics, make sure not to act on those split seconds where he saw Jet as a tempting friend and not his employee, and he would be perfectly respectable. How he could do that while also having fun at a bar, Freed didn't know.

"Rule one," Jet said, cutting off Freed's internal ministrations. "No work talk. Not at all."

"Fair enough," Freed agreed. "And rule two?"

"We take turns buying drinks. I ain't a charity, and I don't like it when people imply that I am. I pay my way, and if you suggest I can't, there's gonna be trouble."

"Noted," Freed nodded. "Are there any other rules I should know about?"

Jet grinned at him. "Not a rule exactly, more like a clause."

"Which is?"

"The loser has to go to the bar, buy themselves the largest pitcher of beer this place sells, go out into the beer garden, and tip the pitcher over their head."

Okay. Freed had a habit of getting into his head from time to time, but he was certain he hadn't missed whatever would make that sentence make sense. "Excuse me?"

"I got a lot of energy, y'know, and I'm kinda tipsy and just wanna have fun. I'm competitive, and I think you desperately clinging onto your dumbass idea that it was a spoon clattering onto a plate proves you're competitive too, so I think we should have fun," Jet shrugged, looking around the room. "We play every game in here that has PVP, and whoever wins the most games by the end of the night wins. Loser does the forfeit."

"And where did the forfeit come from, exactly?"

"Well, I was drinking and I was thinking about the game and then about how you squirted that water over your face and the two things kinda mingled together and then, hey, came up with the perfect way to put my boss man in his place," Jet grinned at him, and Freed tried to push down the burning pleasure that came every time Jet called him boss man. "But you gotta drink too. Otherwise, it's not fair."

Truly, as ridiculous and out of left field the demands were, it sounded like a lovely way to end the day. It had been a long, hot, tedious and endless day, and playing video games and forcing Jet to perform his own forfeit – Freed would not lose – was the perfect way to rebalance the scales.

The second Freed's empty glass was on the table, Jet took his wrist in hand and dragged him towards the nearest arcade machine. He explained what the game was and how to play it, as if Freed were fifty years older than him and needed to be told what a joystick was, and in a rather patronising voice, asked if Freed wanted a practice go. Freed smirked at him full force and a little tipsy, saying that he'd be able to pick it up soon enough. Apparently, Jet didn't know that in every city in the world there was some form of arcade hall, and it was one of the cheapest and easiest ways to pass the time, and Freed had gotten quite good at playing them.

One hour and twenty minutes later, and their completion had been a close run thing. Jet had a natural talent for arcade machines, and also had a competitive streak which refused to allow him to lose. Which was a shame, because he had lost. By three points.

"Oh dear," Freed hummed sarcastically. "That was the last game, wasn't it? Which means you have no chance of getting any more points? Which means you lost, correct?"

"Shut up,"

"Making you the loser," Freed continued. "The loser who has to buy a pitcher of beer and dump it over his head, correct?"

"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna do that," Jet shrugged, and his sharp little teeth made it hard for him to hide his smile. He was playing the role of unhappy loser rather than actually being one. Then Freed would play his role too.

"Oh I think you will."

"You gonna make me, boss man?" Jet jutted out his chin for that.

"I could," Freed leant in, and spoke low. The booze they'd both been drinking had an effect, and he used a voice seldom heard outside of the privacy of his own home. "But I think you'll do as your told, won't you? Even if you need a little push."

And, with a hand on Jet's lower back, Freed gave him a little push towards the bar. Jet made a show of slumping his shoulders, huffing, and walking towards the bar. Moments later he was holding a large pitcher of beer that sloshed precariously. They walked into the small beer garden side by side, Jet looking at the beer hesitantly as they did so. Freed took a seat at one of the benches and watched Jet with a patient expression.

Jet lifted to pitcher so it was eye level, then stopped. He looked at Freed as if expecting to be told he didn't have to do it, but Freed cocked a brow. "Would you let me get out of it if I had lost?"

Rather than answering, Jet sighed out a quiet 'dammit' and raised the pitcher higher. He clenched his fist, jutted his chin again, and poured the beer over himself in a quick, loud movement. A hush fell over the beer garden as everyone looked at Jet. Freed leant back, a cocky smirk on his face as he relished the moment.

It had been too long since he'd felt like this.

Jet looked at him, ruffled and wet and dripping. He was a mess, and had that look of determination that vowed a need for revenge, and that set a fire inside of Freed that he relished.

"We're coming here next Friday," Jet proclaimed, pulling his hair back in a delightfully tight ponytail. It would be fun to pull on that. Make Jet gasp just like he had when the beer had hit him. "And when you lose, you're getting two pitchers. One goes over your head. The other down your pants."

It was petulant, determined, and so entirely sexy that all thoughts of seeing Jet as a predominantly platonic part of his life died on the spot. Freed was just tipsy enough to not care in the moment. "I look forward to it.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @madparadoxum and @thesingularityseries ❤️

Stopping by this midweek with a little bit from Sabrina and John's morning from Chapter 2 of their AU, I will try to get back to the main WIP soon, but a monster of a dialogue has been making me procrastinate. Also, something I thought would be fun: if you have any suggestions of wild things (misfortunes) you'd like to see happening to John (take part in making him go through it), you can drop them as an ask (short prompt), I suspect it would be a fun challenge to tackle.

"I wanted to hear your voice." John's words from the previous night haunted Sabrina's thoughts while she prepared breakfast. She found herself unable to shake off the feeling of familiarity from the moment she found him standing in the foyer of the precinct, looking like he was about to snap at poor Lenny. "Morning.", Savannah greeted as she entered the kitchen, her nose scrunching up, "Is something burning, Rin-Rin?" The question prompted Sabrina to flip the last pancake she was working on, finding the bottom darkened. Wonderful. The last thing she needed was to be distracted, especially by someone that was passing through. And a lawyer. "Did you sleep well, Pumpkin?", she asked as she placed her sister's plate in front of her. Savannah nodded, "I wish I didn't have to wake up so early." "And so do so many adults." "Mommy asked about you.", her sister said in between bites, making Sabrina's smile drop for a second, which thankfully was conceived by her coffee mug she took a sip from at that moment. "Like what?" "If you have a boyfriend. And about uncle Les. She said she saw a picture he had posted…" Jesus. Maybe mind your own love life, Candice. And leave the lack of mine alone.

She could sense her sister's mood soaring after each short visit with Candice, and it hadn't taken long to figure out why. Their mother had become an expert at fishing for information from Savannah since her eldest daughter refused to entertain her poor attempts at "bonding", knowing full well any interest shown wasn't paired with the best intentions. She wasn't going to be shocked if Candice Donovan's intent was to introduce her to some raising entrepreneur, so she felt like she needed to figure out if Leslie would be standing in the way of tricking her into helping with her latest grift. It wouldn't have been like she hadn't tried it before, gone as far as to arrange a date for Sabrina, only for her to figure out what was going on halfway through the dinner. Nothing like having a daughter in law enforcement to make your target feel secure enough and open for any business advice his lawyer would throw his way, let her hold the purse strings. "I will talk to her, Sav. She promised me she won't ask you stuff like that." Sabrina took a final sip of coffee, "How about you watch something and finish breakfast while I go shower?" "Okay. Are we still going to the fair with uncle Les?" "Of course, he hasn't been able to stop talking about it. I think he's more excited than you even." Savannah's frown dissipated at the confirmation, a grin taking over her freckled face, "He promised to win me a big plushie." "He absolutely will.", Sabrina retorted and matched smile, feeling glad she had someone in her life she could actually depend on.

As she left the kitchen and found herself alone in the bathroom, stripping off her T-shirt and shorts, her mind drifted back to the night before. How she'd flown out of the shower and grabbed her phone, hoping she was about to hear back from the lab about her current missing persons case. Instead, John Duncan's voice had came through, perplexing her to an extend she hadn't even bothered to inquire how he'd gotten her number. His excuse for the late call had given her a pause, the real intent behind it revealing itself the moment he had made a comment about his state of undress, asked for her personal number. A part of her made sure to assure her how he'd been so quick to reach her he hadn't even wasted time putting on underwear, confirming she clearly wasn't the only one feeling this strange drawn between them. "He wants you. So much he become a rambling mess the second you casually mentioned whoever he asked for his hotel information.", the foolish side argued. "Sure.", she muttered under her breath, "Romantic much? Trying to turn a woman he just met into his midnight bootycall…" Sabrina shampooed her hair, then moved onto washing her body, completely ignoring the irksome longing within her, the same one she refused to entertain from the second their video call had ended. The desire in his deep blue eyes, his questions, all made his expectations clear as day.

It was unfortunate for him she had more important things that required her full attention. A missing girl to be located and brought home safely. A baby sister to take care of. A trainwreck of a mother to keep at bay. Numerous visions to figure out and could save people's lives. A faceless man that awaited her in so many of them and clutched her heart in his tattooed hands. John Duncan wasn't him. He was bored, slightly entitled, looking for an outlet, for someone to get him off after having a day from hell. It was what she reminded herself as she came into her bedroom to find a new message waiting for her, from a number she hadn't even bothered to save into her contacts.

Good morning. No crimes or accidents to report so far, though, it does feel slightly criminal how you've been occupying my thoughts since last night.

John stared down at the message he had finally hit sent on after typing and deleting versions of it so many times, he had felt close to hurling his phone at the nearest wall. "Occupying his thoughts" seemed like an understatement the second he'd woken up from a dream involving Sabrina that had come off as way too real. He threw the covers off himself with a sigh and left his phone on the bed before he made his way over to the bathroom. "It's morning. It's a normal body reaction. Nothing to do with her.", he said to his reflection, "Get your head back in the game. You're meeting Mooney. Who cares she didn't respond?" Reluctantly he opened the door, leading into the shower, and turned the knobs after a silent prayer for his morning to start off without a hitch. Or at least he attempted to. Until one of them came off into his hand. "No fucking way. NO.", he practically shouted out, not giving a damn about the early hour and how his voice echoed around the room while he stared down at the chrome piece clasped between his fingers in complete disbelief.

A growl left him as he threw it on the ground and turned on his heel, the glass door rattling when he slammed it shut and exited the shower stall. "I'm not taking another arctic shower. I don't care how much you want to take care of my goddamned boner.", he had no doubt the shower would be freezing, because the knob that had fallen off, was for no other than the hot water. He didn't care about the neighboring rooms and what the other guests might have been thinking after screaming the last part on top of his lungs. Not in that moment. Not when he was close to breaking something else in the bathroom as desperation to find a way to release the pent-up frustration brewing inside him settled in. "One accident to report, Detective. And I also hate your city so much.", John whispered before taking a deep breath. As he brushed his teeth he did his best to school his features back into a serene expression, refusing to let the facade of the well-adjusted, charmant attorney to slip. He put the boxers from the day before on, hating the fact he didn't even have a change of underwear and promising himself he'd go shopping for new clothes and other necessities as soon as his meeting had wrapped up. Another frown was aimed at his reflection when he remembered he had no means to even style his hair properly, that all he could do was freshen up in the goddamned sink. He dragged himself back to the bed, sinking down on it as he contemplated how excited he was when he had received the case, yet from that day like domino everything had decided to fall apart in some way.

"At least the guy didn't steal my files. Doubt Clive would appreciate any of that information leaking out.", he reminded himself as clasped his watch back on his wrist, "So what if one of my favorite suits was in that suitcase?" The thought made him reach out for his phone in hope the detective that was going to look into his case had reached out already. He ignored all the unread messages and emails he was yet to go through, opening the text that sat as most recent notification.

Sabrina: Good luck.

Two simple words was all she had to offer him. No "I thought of you too" in sight. "Could be worse. Like her blocking my number.", he uttered out finally, deciding that the fact she had even responded was a good sign, better than simply leaving him on read now that he was another Detective's problem. Just then his phone pinged with a new message. Unknown number. His thumb acted before he could think better of it, and he regretted the decision immediately. A photo. Penny showing off a red lacy number as she cupped her breast with her free hand. Face in full view, a proud gleam in her blue eyes. A pose she had most definitely deemed alluring enough to make him crack.

Wrong number.

He texted, scowling at the realization Penny was getting bolder, crossing a line, using her personal number to pester him. Her reply followed way too fast.

Penny: Come on, John. We both know it's not. How long are you going to play hard to get, baby?

John: I will be contacting HR if this reoccurs.

Penny: You're no fun, Mr. Duncan. You're headed for your meeting, right? Good luck.

John: I'm serious. NO MORE lingerie pictures or passes at work.

Penny was good at her job, better than any of his previous assistants, but it wasn't enough for him to continue tolerating her advances in hopes she'd take the hint and cease with her attempts to get him into bed. He was one to bent the rules, but bending over someone that he worked with was where he drew the line. Reality was that one night of "fun" (mostly for her, because for him it would end up as usual: in self-loathing) would blow up in his face sooner or later.

Another buzz signaled a new message, but instead of the expected complaint from Penny, the reply made him almost drop his phone as he realized his mistake. That he'd texted in the wrong conversation.

Sabrina: John? Sabrina: I'm just going to assume you meant to send this to somebody else.

"I'm done with technology. So done.", he groaned out and chucked his phone across the bed, the pillows softening its landing against the headboard.

John: NO MORE lingerie pictures or passes at work.

More? Initially she had tried to laugh off the text, then unwanted bitterness had set in. If Sabrina needed any proof about the kind of man John was, just based on her intuition and past experiences alone, the words he accidentally sent her minutes prior only confirmed it further. "Bye, Rin-Rin.", Savannah exclaimed and leaned over the console to give her a hug as the her truck came to a stop in front of her elementary school. "Have fun.", Sabrina retorted and placed a quick kiss on her forehead before her sister was scrambling out of the vehicle and rushing over to her best friend, Brandy, that was waiting for her outfront. The blonde girl gave her an enthusiastic wave before the two ran inside the building and she put her Bronco back into drive, heading down her favorite route to the precinct. Her eyes drank in the early runners, people on their way to work, parents walking hand in hand with their children. She had grown to love Portland. The life she and Savannah had built there. The fact that Candice seemed to avoid it like the plague most of the time was an added bonus.

Minutes later she pulled into her regular parking spot, locking the car doors before shouldering her bag and shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket to avoid the chill that hung in the morning air. She quickly crossed the street and pushed her way inside the building, muttering a quick hello to Simon, an officer that was in his last year before retirement and usually worked the day shift at the welcome desk. "Rina, always on time.", he retorted with a smile as she set for the elevator, memories of John following her down the same path threating to emerge. The hallways were mostly empty, signaling she was among the first people to arrive as per usual. "Ollie. Did you sleep here?", her sights settled on Oliver who was slumped over his desk, head full of messy blond hair resting in the crook of his arm, green eyes shifting to the door as she entered before he shut them again. His voice was sleepy, muffled against his shirt, "I'm just trying to one-up you, Rina." Sabrina let out a laugh and nudged him on the back on her way to her own desk, "Want a coffee?" "Did that well-dress fucker yesterday had the hots for you? Hell yes." She could only shake her head at his blunt observation, feeling glad Leslie hadn't arrived yet, "Oliver. We're not talking about him. Am I clear?" "Why not?", he inquired with way too much interest, his Detective senses kicking in despite his sleepiness.

She ignored the question and felt his gaze on her back while she watched the coffee machine like a hawl. "Uh-oh, there's definitely something there." "No.", she placed his the mug in front of him and sent him a look of warning, "And don't be starting any rumours, you hear?" "Too late.", his cheeky smile screamed nothing but bad news. From the team, Oliver McKenzie was the one closest to her age, and unarguably the most daredevilish, and she had quickly learned to read the signs of incoming trouble in his expression. "What did you do, Oliver?" The silence from his side put her on edge as she lowered into her chair and rubbed away at her temples before she let out a groan, "How bad is it?" "Eh.", was all he granted her as explanation. "God, Ollie.", she mimicked his earlier position just as the door to their division swung open and footsteps carried in her direction. A paper sack crinkled when it was set down on her desk, making her look up, eyes stopping on Stockton who had taken one of the seats across her. "A little 'thank you' for yesterday, Rina.", he gestured to the brown bag, bearing the logo of her favorite bakery, "Croissant, salted caramel and chocolate. Got you a coffee to-go, too. The one y'all have here is shit." "Aye, Maxwell, if it's shit, why not get one for me, too?", Oliver teased. Arguing for sport with Maxwell Stockton was one of his favorite activities and he'd oftentimes stop by "Robbery" just for that reason alone. Yet deep down, the two were close friends from their academy days and would often grab drinks on Fridays.

Stockton's dark eyes shot up to Oliver for a second before returning to hers, his hand rubbed at his cleanshaven cheek, "So, what should I expect from this guy?" "Meaning?", Sabrina asked before tearing into her croissant, "Like if he's difficult to deal with?" Oliver snorted in responce, while the darkhaired man in front of her nodded. "He was polite.", she paused, "But he's also a defense attorney." A whistle, "Oof. And he was fine with you takin' the report?" "It's not like we're going to trial now, are we?", a chuckle left her, "He wants his stuff found, that's all." "How the fuck can he get his suitcase stolen like that?", Oliver interrupted, "Like I heard his story, but damn, I tried so hard not to laugh." "Ollie." "What, Rina? Tell me it wasn't funny. Hell, imagine going to meet a client and not having even a clean pair of undies." Stockton laughed at that, pointing back at Oliver, "Is it true what this one said, he 'looks like Leslie, but shorter'?" "Maxie, when have I lied to you?" "Only the last time we played cards, asshole." Oliver blew him a kiss before he took a sip of his coffee. "Well?", Stockton pushed for an answer, "Leslie look-a-like or nah?" Sabrina chewed on the bite of her pastry slowly, images from the video call invading her mind, "Absolutely not." "Now that's a lie, Rina.", Oliver argued and spun around in his chair to regard them both, "Not only does he look like Leslie, but he also wants in her pants as much. Probably."

"You're lucky I love this croissant, or it'd be flying at your head, Oliver." He stuck his tongue out, "Love ya, too." The door opening cut out his laughter, "Speaking of the taller Devil." "Morning, guys.", Leslie Parish muttered in a greeting and walked over to the desk next to hers and dropped off his things. The strange expression on his face gave her a pause and prompted Stockton to clear his throat before he rose up to leave. "I will get going, better start looking into the case. Recover our lawyer friend's luggage back." On his way out saluted Leslie, then patted Oliver on the back, "Later, folks." "The lawyer?", Leslie started, peeling off his coat and placing it over the back of his chair. Sabrina shook her head, "He's not our problem." He strode over, taking a seat at the edge of her desk as he stole the final bite of her croissant, "Not from what Ollie told me." "How many people did you tell, Oliver?" Oliver shrugged, hiding his face behind one of the files he had open on his desk, "I plead the fifth." The eyebrow Leslie quirked told her everything she needed to know before he even elaborated, "Oliver was straight up updating us all live in your Birthday group chat." "Unbelievable. And here I thought you were working hard, McKenzie." A wink was sent her way, "You're underestimating me. I can absolutely multitask, Donovan." "So, back to this guy…", Leslie's blue eyes searched hers. "Later." A nod, "Deal. I'm taking you out for lunch, you can tell me all about him then." Oliver spun around with a victorious smirk, "See, I knew there was something. He asked you out, didn't he?" Sabrina turned to her computer monitor, logging in and pulling up the CCTV footage she had spent half of the previous day combing through, "I plead the fifth, too."

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @poisonedtruth @chazz-anova @strafethesesinners @strangefable @trench-rot @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @direwombat @voidika @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy @euryalex @florbelles @corvosattano @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @cassietrn @simplegenius042 @jillvalentinesday @nightbloodbix and anyone with something to share <3