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jobean12-blog · 5 months

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Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #enemies to lovers #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky

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legendaryoikawa · 3 years

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ares / suna rintarou / masterlist

pairing: suna x female reader

word count: 2k

synopsis: your stalker must’ve adore you so so much, he intends to kill for you.

quote: “If you're that obsessed with someone, why would you kill her? Humans are full of contradictions.” - Ai Yazawa

genre: stalker!au, caters mature themes such as manipulation, voyeurism, public masturbation, murder, violence coercion, borderline obsession.

note: i do not condone these behavior in real life. this is just a work of fiction.

minors dni

taglist: @boosyboo9206 @dokisaki (can’t tag) @godjo@flavostella02 @heykoutaro (can’t tag) @aleacarnin@licitix@katsukis-sad-angel@k-sakura @dokisuki (can’t tag) @black-water-78@throughtheinterstices @iloverarepares @newfriendjen @aizawaslovebot @ratatouille407 @midnightartist @ya-kkun @daicrie @mochipk @kanesshiiweeb @134340-cm @svgafresh @annexerca @neavil @paigypol (can’t tag) @aggressivelyshoutsokay thank you for the love and support!

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Truly an ace of all fools.

Ares, the god of war. As Homer called him, murderous, bloodstained, the incarnate curse of mortals.

Name it, Suna knows every possible if not, unique ways to kill. He prefers the crowbar as it’s efficient and easy enough to send a person to their graves. For his very own pleasure. It fuels him especially when he sees those eyes that were once full of life drown down to darkness of death.

Suna is known as one of the notorious lads at school. He never fails to leave an astonished look to every person he has passed by at school. People are stunned whenever he walks down the hallway with his school shirt unbuttoned and crumpled. His overall appearance is unruly with the noticeable scars that lingered on his face like ches. His disheveled jet black hair. Eyes that bore nothing but darkness. Chains dangling from each of his ears. His aura that is explainable and unassailable that could even strike the thunderbolt of the great god Zeus.

Suna is handsome. He looks like bad news. Wild.

He wielded an enormous influence among girls. Some swoon at the mere sight of him; others even resorted to some chase yet ended up a crying mess. Boys even fall for his charms, but one sharp glance is enough to wave them off like flies.

However, you on the other hand are not fazed by him nor his silhouette. Which made him to be drained by a pure soul like you.

Suna is so private and closed like an abandoned establishment and that could be the sole reason why people want to pry into his life. He had everyone controlled on the palm of his hand but he can’t seem to play with you like he initially plans to.

Suna has the patience of a boar. He shows signs of violence that it’s alarming. But people seem to be in love at his bad boy facade, no one dares to report him.

He is a living contradiction. Suna is a ride, a deadly one.

He comes to school with his boisterous friends that look exactly like how he presents himself. You can always hear their uproarious banters about their lives, endless wolf-whistling. They are the group of boys you wouldn’t want to mess with. Especially the mysterious Suna.

You made a promise to get the shit out of the tracks that had traces of the boisterous boy that is Suna.

Not just the boys that have brought out the never ending fiasco circulating around your highschool. There have been a high number of mysterious disappearances of students that you may have never heard of or slightly familiar to you that you cannot recall. Their skulls are cracked open with a brute force or a bullet to the head. Some are strangled, some are mutilated, and what makes it terrifying is that most of the victims are leading down to you.

You can still remember how Kang Hana spent her afternoon with you in the library for a philosophy project. You admit it yourself that Hana isn’t the preferable company. She’s too nosy, noisy and quite violent towards you as she keeps on hitting you on the arm whenever you spill something stupid. Nevertheless, you held no grudge towards the girl. And you were really stunned at the news of her sudden death.

Oh, you didn’t know someone was watching from the windows of the library outside. Irritability bubbles inside his body like a brook. He allows no one to go near you, let alone to hit you like a ragged doll. He always had a thing for you, he didn’t know when it started but by the way you looked at him like you are almost something to be disregarded. He is drawn to you like a moth to the flame.

It is always in Suna’s system. His mind is a bully, gushing him to do things that would make him thrilled, something that could awaken his fantasies.

He wants to kill. And he did.

He stood in all his glory, wearing his uninterested look while scrutinizing the other students walking along the hall. There at the lockers he spots Kang Hana awkwardly fumbling with the entangled bag straps.

His dark eyes bore into Hana’s figure. Eyeing her from head to toe. At this moment he is thinking of what he can possibly do with those limbs. Break it? Smash it? Mutilate it like how they do in the slaughterhouse? Suna approaches her figure, his switchblade ready in his windbreaker’s pockets.

He breaths, trying to muster his oh-so-charming smile. “Hey.”

Hana raises up her gaze and she is surprised that the notorious Suna is approaching her. Only if she knew his real intentions. “Oh my god. Hey.”

Suna is charming. Quite egocentric. It doesn’t take him long to persuade someone to sp with him or to go out on a date with him. If there is something you should be afraid about Suna, it is his ability to deceive people without them knowing his real motives. He has a calm demeanor but sometimes his arrogance fuels him to be so wild-driven.

He leads Hana to the abandoned establishment at the rundown part of the town. He made sure to give her a signal to meet him outside where no witnesses could see them. It’s always a step when considering crime, get rid of witnesses.

At this moment, Hana starts to get excited because she has foreseen what could happen. For her it’s sex. For him, it’s blood. Suna draws his switchblade near her carotid artery. She widens her eyes but laughter resonates in the eerie place.

She purrs. “I am a kinky person but I can try knife play.”

Suna doesn’t play. He draws the knife deeper to her neck until she realizes he is not joking at all. Kang Hana’s heart made a beeline for her throat and tried to make a f for her life but Suna had his strong hand gripping her hair.

She struggles but after every move she dares, the knife further penetrates her neck. Beads of sweat are dropping down to her cheeks. A hot sticky liquid from where the knife is trickling down her neck, dampening her collarbones down to her bra. She cries loud. “What do you want?!”

Suna smirks. He misses the familiar scent of blood flooding in his nostrils. “Your life.”

Her eyes widened in pure horror as the charming prince transformed quickly as a ruthless psychopath in just the blink of her eye. Hana tries to fight against his hold once again but Suna wants to finish off and not to take care of a wailing woman.

He repeatedly lash out the knife through her neck. The impact of his pounds set out her blood gushing out, splashing his pale cheeks. His right hand is dripping with her hot blood. Suna’s chest rose as his breathing became ragged but overall he felt so alive and content. He stares at Hana’s figure sprawled on the floor bathing with the pool of her own blood. Suna felt so driven with just crimson clouding his vision. He runs his tongue on the rows of his pearly teeth, a sinister smile tugging the corners of his lips. He did it for you.

The following days have been hell for you. No, you weren’t killed but you faced a frightening number of police interrogations for the victims were always drawing down to you. Like Hana, you were the last person she was with before her neck was slashed out like a cow in the slaughterhouse. The pulse of a blue and red strobe from the police mace being parked in the circular driveway. You stare at the officer's badge, his holstered Glock. The night air settles the eerie night, still, gauzy full of humidity.

The interview lasts about a good hour but you are deemed innocent as Hana’s whereabouts where the crime took place didn’t match your activity. Her clothes are missing on the spot but the investigators found it drenched in this liquid they believed was an oxygen producing detergent didn’t match. Since the laboratory personnel couldn’t get any fingerprints from her body, it has been declared useless for the crime.

It has been weeks since you find yourself able to breathe again but it didn’t last long when you were bombarded with unknown and creepy messages that you couldn’t withstand at all.

I know you. From everything you do, I know it all.

You belong to me, your full name.

I find it romantic to see how excited you look whenever I send these messages. Shall I start sending my pictures as well? Or the throne I made for you?

From morning you go to your mother’s flower shop to gather primrose to deliver to your grandfather that lives in the twenty second street downtown.

Your favorite thing to do is to draw, my sweet. I am right, am I? I’m always right.

I saw you talk to that small loser from class D. Now don’t ever talk to him again or you will see his head delivered right at your doorstep. I love you and I’m being the nice guy here.

Do you perhaps like the idea of your friend's limbs personally delivered to you? Your pick.

I am always watching you, your name.

Oh, you had a museum date with your friends? Don’t go, I am at your grandmother’s restaurant, she serves the ultimate broth soup. Too bad I can stop her from serving these delicacies.

I know deep down, you love me too. Don’t you ever try to date behind my back without telling me. I did kill for you.

Your parents aren’t home. Do you want me to visit?

So much love for you. Your long secret admirer :)

I love you. I will kill for you.

He isn’t joking. He knows everything about you. All the meticulous details no one knows but your family. Whenever you receive a message from him, your heart would pound against your rib cage. It terrifies you to the core that he exactly knows the precise details of your whereabouts.

You immediately reported this matter to the police, to your parents but it didn’t settle the problem. The number isn’t traceable. They keep on insisting that the number used is from an unregistered sim. You fear for your life, your personal space, everything.

You weren’t just experiencing the never ending terror of your stalker’s messages. But some of your things are now starting to disappear, from your bracelets, your baby pictures now, now, your white lacy underwear.

You are blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes that follows every movement as you exit the school grounds. He looks down on his hand, gripping his favorite underwear of you. He had a picture when you wore the garment, and it was his favorite among all.

He makes his way to his heavily tinted car, a smile never leaving Suna's face as he clutches the garment tightly on his hands. His soulless eyes stared back at him the moment he stared at the rear view mirror. And drives to the nearest convenience store.

He keeps on fantasizing about you. The way your name rolls out of his tongue while jerking out never fails to send himself to ecstasy. He can’t wait to meet you, but one thing he is sure of, he will be watching you tonight.

Suna is always a step ahead of his plans. He is meticulous and calculative. His plans never backfire for he knew what methods to use. For the days he has been killing he already knows how to get rid of evidence that could lead to him. The boy’s got a sharp tongue as well, a serpent’s, he uses lies to cover up the real Suna that hides behind the charming facade he puts front.

He wore black. Black that is a mystery. Eerie. He wears a black bucket hat that covers his beautiful features that compliments his youth. Despite the dusk ebbing its way, his moles are always as alive as the constellation. He secures his mask tighter on both ears, as appealing as it sounds, he cannot show his face to you, just not yet. He had a thing to do, he had something to accomplish.

“Just in time” he breathed into the shadows. His eyes follow your figure marching down the dim lit streets. A smirk paints his lips as you still try to swat everything and thinking to yourself everything is still normal. But no, not until he is dead. He could have easily needle out your background from Kita but you were his and it gives him satisfaction whenever he discovers something about you. Things that aren’t open for others but just for him.

He immediately hid behind a large tree, once you entered your home. He makes sure to secure a great and measurable distance from him to you, not so far yet so near. He clenches his fist, the idea of watching you undress from your windows sends him a big wave of pleasure.

He begins to scramble up trying to get a hold of the strongest branch his forearm could manage. Some twigs tried to interrupt him midway but nothing can stop a hungry predator from lurking on his prey. He finds the perfect spot just parallel to your window.

“Fuck” he hiss as he felt his phone vibrate from his pocket. “What it is now fucking Atsumu?”

“Lover boy, I forgot to place your camera in your bag, bye.”

The camera is not his top most concern. He has his phone that is full of you.

You were humming quietly. He follows your hands, removing your school blouse that left the boy’s mouth agape. His cock immediately hardens at the sight, and he cannot risk himself to jerk while on the tree. He scrambles immediately, carelessly fishing out for his phone to take a picture of you naked.

Suna is always not satisfied with the bare minimum. He records you, doing your private thing in your room. He is biting hard on his lips, his erection sticking out painfully against his pants. He has to endure much longer till you have finished your routine applying lotion to your shiny long legs. Those legs that he can’t wait to touch.

Suna left the place shortly. He’s astounded. You drive him wild and wild he is. You fuel the monster more.

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bl--ankhaeji · 4 years

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Aphrodisiac

Pairing ~ Witch!WinWin x Witch!Reader

Genre ~ smut,,enemies to lovers,,secret magic schoolau ig

Warning ~ oral both male and fem receiving,,creampie,,multiple orgasms,,drugging?(not really but..really),,overstim,,brief mention of death,,I think that’s it

A/N ~ This is something I made for Halloween. Yes I know it has passed but idc 😂. This is my longest fic so far and I’m kinda excited for you guys to read it. I also want to thank my beta readers/editors for this @kjmsupremacist @bumblebeenct @starlit-jeno @earth-to-that-asian You guys were such a big help and I’m glad to have you all as my moots as well.

W. Count ~ 7.1k

The sound of the bell rang throughout the school signaling the end of your second to last class. The metallic slam of locker doors and murmurs of hundreds of students filled the hallways as you made your way towards the gym. A tired sigh leaves your lips as you maneuver through students; you don’t have time to say hi to your friends that call your name over the chatter in the halls, hoping the leisurely wave you throw towards them suffices you make your way past them. The heavy doors of the gymnasium weigh on your arms as you push them out of the way, heading towards the back of the school. Which to others may just look like some woods, but you know that everything is not always as it appears to be.

Before long a worn down cobblestone road came into view and even though you could barely tell the haphazardly placed rocks were a trail, you knew just how to get to where you were going without the help of the rocks. Pretty soon the road started to clear up to the point that one could walk it easily without the risk of twisting an ankle. The slight sound of running water you had heard for the past 15 minutes got significantly louder, signaling that the waterfall you had consistently visited plenty of times was close, which also let you know that your destination was near.

You could practically see the ever glowing lights of the cottage where you got better at your craft lighting up the dark forest. The upwards bridge of the cottage now in view, you started to mumble a soft yet powerful spell under your breath. Upon reaching the closed wooden gate you look up, eyes winding the covered bridge until you see the seemingly lifeless cottage covered in a blanket of vines. Still in the midst of conjuring you raise your right hand, the sound of your magic crackling in the silence as a white orb forms from the center of your palm. With the spell heavy on your lips, you hold the decently sized orb to the vines and as the light touches them they slowly start to unwrap themselves from around the gate.

Placing the orb on top of the vines, you watch as it flows up the path with you directly behind it still casting the spell. Finally stepping up to the porch, you watch as your orb floats to the very top of the elevated cottage touching the vines up there so that all of them will clear. You can feel the change in the air as you step through the doors of the now brightly lit cottage and a smile takes over your face.

The door slams shut behind you, causing your smile to fall, and instantly you’re on high alert. A million and one spells sweep throughout your mind that you could possibly use to fend off whoever the intruder is, “Ahh the old Disentanglement Orb, quite a beautifully difficult spell if I do say so myself. Always gets the job done. Only set back though is how much energy and time it takes to execute,” Looking towards the voice, you turn to face your foe; upon seeing the body situated in the chair you immediately relax, letting out a tired sigh. “But you always were, and I quote, ‘An exemplary student with a thirst for betterment!’”

“Fuck you Sicheng. Oh, and you really should get out of Ms.Torrent’s chair before she comes to class. She was already wondering where you’ve been the past couple of weeks,” you say, rolling your eyes. The sound of your steps against the wood echo through the room as you make your way to one of the two desks situated in the room. You start getting your things out of your bag preparing for class when you hear an ouch come from where the boy sat.

Walking to his seat with his hands in his pockets free of items he sits in his seat facing you, “You wound me, sweets. I was just teasing, you know you should really think about surgery,” he says with his head sat atop his hand. You give him a confused look. What kind of surgery is he talking about? “You should really think about getting surgery to remove the stick from your ass, you seem a little uptight lately.”

The anger you feel starts as a low simmer; not much, but still there. Looking up from where you stand above your desk, you make eye contact with the seated male. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me,” he says.

“You know what Sicheng what the fuck is your problem with me, huh?” You can already feel your magic starting to stir in the pit of your stomach. You were never the best at controlling your anger.

A snicker falls from his lips as he stands up. “Oh my problem? How could I have a problem with Miss Prodigy over here, little goody five shoes? No one ever sees her without her head in a book, or better yet up some teacher’s ass.”

“Shut the fuck up right now. You don’t know me or anything about me.” Flashes of your dead father's body laid in front of you circulated through your mind. Ever since that day, you had to fend for yourself and your mother, who was human. That also meant that you were left to learn magic all on your own, since your mother couldn’t help you at all and the only witch in your family, your father, was no longer around to teach you himself.

“Since we’re throwing shots at least I worked for everything I have. I strived to perfect the witch in me, unlike spoiled daddy’s boy over here who’s had everything on a silver platter since birth. The best tutors, conjurers, postionists, the best everything. And even if you weren’t as good at magic as you are, you would still be in the position you are because of daddy’s money.” You were absolutely heated at this point; any more and your magic would start firing off by itself.

Sicheng looked as if he was ready to take your head off, and he actually could with a simple spell but that’s besides the point. A navy blue aura, the color of his magic, encased his body. Oozing power that was advanced for someone of his age. But he wasn’t the only one who had honed their skills way past where they should be.

You couldn’t see it yourself, but you knew you were also sheathed in the white aura of your own magic. The air in the room grew rampant with the amount of angry power circulating through it. The bottles of potions and herbs on shelves started to rattle as if there were an earthquake. The few plants Ms.Torrent had around the classroom started to droop considerably because of the negative energy. Out of the corner of your eye you could see things starting to float in the air.

It was as if you had split the classroom down the middle, and by now you assumed your magic had grown large enough as to place a cast over your side of the classroom. The objects floating on your side faced toward the boy and his alike. You and Sicheng were about to tear this classroom to shreds. You both were so focused on each other that you didn’t even notice the door to Ms.Torrent’s upstairs office open.

“Hey, do you guys know why the ambiance in this place just got so dark all of a- HEY! What the fuck are you guys doing in my classroom?” With a furious wave of her hand everything stopped. The rattling ceased and the army of objects you and Sicheng both had were quickly overtaken by gravity. The sound of them hitting the floor was the only thing to be heard besides Ms. Torrent’s angry breathing. “I leave you two alone for a few minutes before class starts and I walk in to find the two of you at each other's throats. I thought I told you guys what my rules for entering this classroom were the first day you walked in here as the witch novices you were and still are,” she said with a deadly calm voice, the look in her eyes anything but.

It was the first time she ever called you guys anything other than her usual surgery terms of endearment. “And you both broke not one but two of the only rules I gave you. I thought for almost fully grown witches, you would be able to at least understand and abide by those, but I guess I overestimated you both. Now since you both seem to have forgotten, I’ll ask this once and once only. What are my rules for entering this room?”

Simultaneously you and Sicheng start to repeat the rules she told you both on the first day you walked into the room. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had finally made it, after years of stealing spell books from the hidden parts of the libraries you worked at, rereading every single book left in your father’s study over and over and over again, and practicing spells on your own everyday until you finally were able to get a real teacher. So of course you remember the first and only solid rules she gave you when you walked through the door.

“I’ll only tell you guys these rules once, break them and you’re out.” Your new teacher said with a straight face. “First, the only time your magic is to be used in this room is when I give permission for you to use it. Other than that you are not allowed to use it. Seeing as how I am supposed to teach you magic you’ll virtually always be able to use it. Second, you shall under no circumstances unless permitted sparing use your magic to harm or mess with your classmate in any way. That includes helping them by lending magic, because if you do that you’ll only hinder their growth which hurts them.” After she said those words a huge smile grew on her face as she greeted you both warmly, a stark contrast to her face now as she glared into your souls as you recited the two rules she put in place.

“I know I said you would be out if you ever broke either of those rules, but seeing as how you two are some of my favorite students I’ve ever had, despite your constant bickering with one another, you both are seniors this year I won’t kick you out. It is also your first offence, so I won’t punish you both too harshly.” She finally moves from in front of you both to behind her desk at the whiteboard. “Now that all of that is settled let's start class shall we?”

“DUCK!” Ms.Torrent yells as the cauldron in front of her starts to bubble ferociously. You and Sicheng immediately get under your respective lab tables eyes still towards the front preparing for the worst. Pretty soon the fushia colored liquid inside explodes the miniature mushroom cloud filtering out into the caricature of a duck. Ms. Torrent’s laughs fill the room at her joke and you can’t help but to let out some giggles as the duck slowly deforms when the smoke starts to disperse in the air.

“Oh shoot, it’s almost time for class to be over. You both should be getting ready to head back now, but before you go don’t think I forgot about your punishment. I was going to do this myself when I got back from my trip in two weeks-I already told you both about it-but now I don’t have to. Tomorrow you both will come here and do my inventory, clean up, and herb scavenging for me. I will write down everything you need to know, so have a good day and I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” She says it with a blinding smile, as if she didn’t just ruin your weekend and your only off day.

“Well hello my two beautiful apprentices. May I ask how your days have been before you guys get started?” With a head full of wild curls covered by a cliche witch hat Ms.Torrent enters the room with a satchel that clinks with every step she makes. A grunt leaves your mouth at the question, too tired to formulate an actual response. You were honestly surprised you were able to make it on time. You didn’t care to dress according to your usual school attire, instead opting out for gym shorts and a loose crop sweatshirt.

You look over at Sicheng sitting quietly in his chair on the other side of the room for the first time today and see he also exchanged his usual leather jacket and jeans for a tight t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Honestly, if you didn’t hate this man with every fiber of your being, you would say he looks rather delectable right now. His t-shirt basically melded with his body and his sweatpants left nothing to the imagination when you looked at his strong thighs highlighting almost all of the muscles you knew he had, seeing as how he was captain of the soccer team in regular school. If you looked hard enough you could almost see a dick prin-.

“Oh my, look at the time! I have to head out soon. Okay, so for one, you guys just have to clean up the place; you know, sweep, dust a little, and mop if you’re feeling crazy. Meanwhile for the inventory, I have made a list of the things I should have and exactly how much as of right now and I also made a list for the scavenging. I listed everything I need and exactly how much I need,” she says handing the paper to you.

Taking a look at all the things she needs, you notice she doesn’t tell you where to get the stuff she needs. You stop her just before she walks out of the door. “Oh that, well I wouldn’t be your teacher if I didn’t help you get better at magic, and to do so I did not list where each plant could be found nor did I list the safest way to obtain them. That my dear little flounders is for you to figure out, I trust you won’t kill yourselves.” She winks as she shouts her departure before you hear a crackle in the sky and see lightning the color of the most vivid orange you had ever seen appear and disappear in the blink of an eye with Ms.Torrent.

Looking over at Sicheng, you see his phone in his hand and realize he was more than likely too occupied with it playing games to realize what Ms.Torrent just said. “Hey come on, let’s get this over with. I want to go home and sleep as soon as possible,” you say to him, standing up, the sound of your chair squeaking against the floor before you walk over, grabbing the broom and duster out of the supply closet.

Looking him in the eye, you toss him the broom and sit the duster on the teacher’s desk as you clean the whiteboard. You hear him stand up, and the sound of the broom sweeping against the floor echoes through the room. There’s a nice silence hanging in the air and neither of you dare to break it. Finishing up the whiteboard, you move to start dusting. Not looking where you’re going, you collide with a sturdy yet soft surface. A smell, a sort of calming masculine scent with a hint of spice and detergent hit your nose, and you looked up to see Sicheng staring back at you, eyes blazing, and as you inhaled more of the intoxicating scent you thought in your mind that it actually really fit him.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he says in a stiff voice whilst his hands go to your shoulders, moving you out of his way so that he can start on the inventory upstairs while he waits on you to finish dusting. You nod your head instinctively, not really processing what just happened. You decide to clean the surface of Ms.Torrent’s plants since you read somewhere that doing that helps with growth. Once you finish you start absentmindedly dusting anything you see, trying to think about something else. You’re almost done dusting seeing as how there wasn’t much dust on the bottom floor, you’ve already found yourself on the top floor when you make it to the shelves. Starting from the bottom, you dust the parts as Sicheng sweeps up near where you just got done dusting.

You run into a problem when you can no longer reach the rest of the shelves to dust them because they’re too high up. Standing on your tiptoes, you feel your shorts ride up as you try your hardest to reach until you realize it's no use. You start casting a spell to clean the top when you feel a presence behind you and all of a sudden the heady smell invades your nostrils again, and you feel heat radiating from the body situated behind you.

“Let me help.” Sicheng’s strong voice reverberates through the quiet air and you can feel the vibrations from his chest on your back as one of his hands lands on your waist while the other takes the duster from your hands. You can feel the heat from his hand on your waist and for some reason it stirs something inside of you. His strong body is pinned against yours and you can feel just about every ridged curve on the surface of his skin. You’re so close together that you know your ass is lightly pressed against his crotch.

The urge to grind against his covered dick is tempting and suddenly you come to your senses as you wonder what the hell you’re thinking. You quickly spin around in his arms to face him, placing your hands on his chest and your movement causes Sicheng to look down at you. “Uhh I-I’ll g-go get the herbs. Bye,” you ramble out as you shove him firmly to the side so that you could move from under him. You grab your rucksack and the list that she left and run down the stairs and out of the door.

Walking in the woods got to be tiring so now you’re just floating swiftly but calmly, passing trees on the way. You’re a little ways from having all of the herbs on the list, only needing one more to finish. You had been scavenging for magic herbs and plants before, so you knew what type of places to look for most of the ones listed. You don’t really know what she meant by ‘the safest way to obtain them; so far you haven’t come across any troubles that could be a potential threat to your life.

Looking at the time, you see it’s about midday. If you moved a little faster, hopefully you could be done before 3. Looking in a book of herbs, you see the name of the last one herb you have to get: the Spiky Skunkweed. It says that the skunkweed is known for its pungent rotting flesh odor. Some say it smells just like a dead skunk that emits up to a 5 mile radius. The only way one can even think of going near and hoping to obtain it is to stop the smell. “Five mile radius, huh?” you say out loud, sniffing the air to see if you smell anything similar to what you read. With no noticeable unpleasant odor, you determine that you don’t have the time to float around until you smell it.

You open your grimoire and see if there’s a spell to enhance your sense of smell. “Found it.” Outburst of Senses, it increases your senses ten fold. Reading over the incantation method, you take the sacred oil and apply it to your nose preparing to voice the spell. You start chanting unrecognizable words to any who would hear as the oil on your nose starts to tingle. Casting consistently, you feel your sense of smell getting better; you’re now able to smell even the tiniest amount of dew sat upon the plants beneath your feet. The tingle on your nose has now resolved to an itchy burn and you look down, seeing that the spell is almost over. The last words of the incantation sit softly upon your lips as the burn on your nose dies down.

Now with your magnified sense of smell, you’re able to quickly smell the Spiky Skunkweed almost as if it were right beside you. Speeding up your floating, you head in the direction of the scent. Even though the overpowering stench of the plant clouds your senses, you’re still able to enjoy the other bountiful amount of smells. Smells you had never smelt in your life hit your nostrils each giving different impressions. You could smell the twangy bitterness of Twin Winberries on a bush that was miles away from you so vividly you could almost taste it. The scent of the sickly sweet sap trapped inside of every other tree you passed was so strong that it almost made your stomach hurt just from thinking of eating it.

The scent of the Skunkweed was getting stronger and your intensified smell was starting to work against you. The rancid odor of dead skunk slowly overtook everything until that was all you could smell. You felt like puking and turning back with how terrible it was, and pretty soon your eyes started to water as you got even closer; anymore and you would start gagging. Flipping the pages of the grimoire, you read how to get rid of the spell early. Exorcism of Senses, you had to take a purified cloth and rub the oil off of the applied area.

Good thing you always carry a travel pack of purified cloth with you. Rubbing the oil off of your nose you felt a split second of relief from the putrid smell until it all came rushing back. You thought you had done something wrong until you realized that you were within the five mile radius and you could tell from how strong the smell still was despite not being as bad you figured you were getting close. Good thing you knew just which spell you were gonna use to get this smell away so you could get this herb. The words of an incantation quickly left your lips as you cast this spell as fast as possible because the scent was starting to make you get light headed and that caused your concentration to fade.

A ring of pure white light appeared in your gathered hands keeping them in front of you as you walked. You managed to absorb the stench and clear a path for you to make your way to the plant. The fumes started to noticeably float in the air with you as you soon were able to see the plant you had to obtain. Ms. Torrent wants three stems and luckily that is exactly how many that grow in the spot. Using the ring to absorb the scent allowed you to be able to take your clippers and snip off three decently sized stems and place them in a glass bottle. Speeding back the way you came you come to a stop when you feel like you shouldn’t be able to smell the Skunkweed anymore.

And when you realize it’s gone, you instantly fall to the ground, not caring about your knees and hands screaming from the impact, taking in the deepest breath you’ve ever had in your life. Your nose feels as if it’s about to fall off with how much it’s been through in such a short amount of time. Many deep breaths later you find yourself slumped against a tree attempting to stop the dizziness so that you can function. Your eyesight slowly clears up and you start to mumble a very familiar spell, one that you use at least once a day, Hex of Greater Healing. It’s a good thing you practice spells everyday and have a large stamina or else you’d be fucked.

As the white aura surrounds your body you feel your nose start to hurt less as the spell speeds up the healing process. The scratches on your knees and hands also close themselves as you begin to feel less like shit. You’ve finally collected all of the herbs, you assume this is what Ms. Torrent meant by not killing ourselves. Well you’ve barely escaped that so you should head back now. With a snap of your fingers you start levitating again moderately heading back to the cottage.

Wiping your mouth you rid the area of any excess berry juice. On the way back you decided to get a few bushels of Twin Winberries whilst also stopping by the waterfall to have a drink after the berries. You look at the time and see that only an hour and a half has passed since the last time you checked. You’re still good to leave early as long as Sicheng did his part while you were gone. Making your way to the wooden gate of the cottage you start to walk up the bridge your rucksack alerts whatever is by of your every step. Without thinking you slam the door rather loudly and right after you hear a glass shatter followed by an aggressive ‘Shit!’

“Aye yo Sicheng, are you okay up there? I’m back from scavenging. Did you finish dusting and sweeping? I wanna do this inventory and get outta here,” you say as you start to unload your bag. Sicheng’s loud footsteps echo as he basically races down the steps.

“Why the fuck did you slam the door?!” Not expecting his sudden outburst you turn your head toward him with a partial stank face at his attitude.

“The fuck crawled up your ass and died while I was gone?”

“You just made me drop a potion I was checking for inventory in Ms. Torrents office because you for some reason decided to bust in here like you’re the council or some shit.”

“Damn, my bad it was an accident; you don’t have to be such a dick about it,” you say, raising your hands before getting in a defensive stance. “Not like I could expect anything else from you though, seeing as how you’re always a dick.”

“Oh so now you’re turning this around on me.” A dry laugh comes out of his mouth as he looks at you incredulously. “Of course little miss perfect can do no wrong, huh?”

You and Sicheng were so occupied with your argument that you had forgotten all about the spilled potion upstairs. That is until it hit you.

Standing face to face with Sicheng your body began to feel..different. The more you breathed in, the more you felt it. In the pit of your stomach a hunger unlike something you’ve ever felt before starts to formulate. You thought it was only you feeling different until Sicheng slowly leaned closer towards your face, causing you to lean back a little once you realized just how close he was. You started to feel his warm breath splay across your face heating it more than it already was. “W-What is going on? Do you feel a little different too?” You breathe out on a barely audible whisper.

You know he heard you when he nodded yes, seemingly just as confused as you were “What exactly was the potion you wasted in Ms. Torrent’s room?” You ask the tall male trying to see what had you feeling so...aroused? The uncomfortable heat you felt between your legs had you attempting to rub them together discreetly.

But that doesn’t go unnoticed Sicheng’s keen eyes pick up on your subtle movement. A few beats of silence go by, “I-I don’t know and frankly right now I don’t believe I care.” he finally says as his hands land on your waist.

“Sicheng-”

“Don’t..Don’t say my name right now unless you want something bad to happen.” He says shutting his eyes tightly as if he were trying to keep himself from doing something he might regret.

“Sicheng.” You bring your hand up to his cheek, slowly caressing it with your thumb, causing his eyes to flutter open. If someone had told you that you would be doing this an hour ago, you would’ve turned them into a frog and flew away cackling into the moon, but as his warm brownish black eyes stared intensely and honestly into yours, causing you to get even more flustered than you already were especially when you started to feel a wetness come about in your underwear, you knew you would be a fool if you didn’t take this shot. Of course, you could feel the tension between you and said male that always lingered, but you knew that you nor him would ever act on it without a shove from an outside force.

“Look at me.” He says making sure he has your full attention. “I’m gonna give you three seconds to stop me but once those are up, you’re mine.” His hand goes up to cup your chin gently as he starts to count.

“C’mere.” His hands on your waist pull you to him as his mouth lands on yours. Your lips overlap, teeth clashing as all the pent up emotion is now flowing out in waves, coupled with the added intensity of what you’re beginning to assume is a very strong aphrodisiac; you guys just might rip each other apart.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he says, breaking your embrace. His hands move to your thighs, tapping to signal you to jump. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to his lab table. Sitting you down, he starts to kiss you again softer yet somehow still with the same animalistic passion. His tongue slips into your mouth, caressing your tongue in the process. Wet smacks of your lips can be heard all throughout the room and the silky wetness of his tongue on yours has you releasing a hot breath.

You pull a groan from his mouth as you start to grind against his stiff erection. It's almost as if it’s about to rip through his pants just to get inside you. Your hips gyrate as best as possible against him, coaxing him to join. He removes his lips from yours to kiss down your neck, slightly nipping as he goes. A moan falls from your lips as he kisses your neck, finding your sweet spot and causing the heat in your lower abdomen to increase.

Your hand travels to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and off of him before you meld your lips together again. Finding their way lower, your hands start to massage his dick and a soft groan leaves his lips. “Suck my dick for me, baby.” And he doesn’t have to tell you twice before you’re already on your knees, pulling his pants down. “I don’t think you know many times I’ve wanted to shut this pretty mouth of yours up with my cock,” he says as his member slips out of his underwear, smacking against his abdomen.

Giving it a few pumps, you immediately put him inside your mouth and get to work. The heat from his dick is so intense you think your tongue will burn as it slips past your lips. You circle your tongue around the head of his cock, flicking the hole on purpose when you feel his hand land on your head. “Can I fuck your mouth, princess?” Looking up at him, you moan at the mere thought of him fucking your mouth as if it was your wet cunt.

You nod your head to signal yes so quick you fear you may get whiplash as your hand works its way down into your underwear. You start to rub your clit slowly, working yourself up. You’re so wet you swear you would drip on the floor if your bottom was bare. Sicheng’s hands come to your head, grabbing it firmly before he starts to thrust into your mouth, your spit flying everywhere. The sounds you make as his dick hits the back of your throat are all you can hear.

One of your hands comes up to grip his muscular thigh, fingers digging into the skin in order to steady yourself from his thrusts. “Ohhh fuckkkk, this is good,” he moans, throwing his head back. “Don’t look at me like that, baby, or I’m gonna cum,” he says when he sees that you’re still staring at him. His thrusts stop right before he is about to cum. Refusing to let him stop like that, you take matters into your own hands. Letting go of his thigh, you grab his dick and start to swirl your tongue around his head, flicking under while constricting your cheeks. “Shit, baby stop. I-It’s too much, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that--” He barely gets to finish his sentence before his cum spurts into your mouth. His moans that fill the air and the uncontrollable jerk of his hips cause you to whine under him as you swallow his cum.

“Damn kitten, I thought I told you to stop. I would punish you but you look too delectable right now,” He says, lifting you up from the ground and putting you on the table. In the process of pulling your pants down he hears your voice. “What was that baby?”

Usually you would have some sort of qualm about asking this but as you steadily intake more and more of the fragrant aphrodisiac all of your inhibitions get thrown out of the window as you practically beg, “Please let me ride your face.”

You see him stop for a second before a slight blush spreads on his cheeks to his ears. Just the thought of you quivering in ecstasy on his face, getting yourself off, has him almost ready to cum again. Trading places with you, he puts his body on the table, getting comfortable despite his legs hanging off. He looks at you expectantly as he awaits you to sit atop your throne. You finish stripping yourself of your pants and your shirt and bra while you’re at it and move to get on his face.

With a thigh on each side of his head, you lower yourself onto his face and the reaction is almost instant. One of Sicheng’s hands comes up to grab on your ass and while the other invades your juicy cunt and his tongue lands on your clit. The combined power of his wet muscle and fingers has you seeing stars. His fingers thrust into you, scissoring as he delves deeper inside. His tongue laps up the running juices that fall from your dripping hole as he preps you for his thick cock.

Your hands shoot to his hair in an instant once he finds your g-spot, body convulsing from the stimulation. “You like that, babygirl?” he asks as his lips wrap around your clit, lightly sucking on the small bud before barely grazing his teeth against it. Your brain is so foggy you don’t even notice how he adds a third finger inside of you, thrusting rapidly as he flexes his wrist. The rough pads of his fingers rub against your g-spot over and over, causing your body to curl in on itself as you grip the hair on his scalp. You feel the climax strike before you know it, whimpers falling from your mouth and you’re just barely able to stay seated upright from the internal attack.

Your body feels like jello as you try to remove yourself from Sicheng’s face before you suffocate him. “You taste so good kitten, that just about made me want to lick you dry,” he says, wiping the excess juices from his mouth.

A slow smile reaches across your features as you stand up, planting your hands on the table as you bend over, shaking your ass a little as you do. “Fuck me, please,” you ask, staring boldly into Sicheng’s eyes. And it was as if something shifted in the air because before you could ask again he was already behind you, inserting himself.

It was like finally getting rid of an itch neither of you could reach. Moans and claps filled the room as he thrusts into you like an animal. The smack of his hips against yours feels extravagant. Your tits bounce as if they have a mind of their own. His balls hit your clit adding even more fuel to the fire. If you didn’t know any better you would think you both were in heat with the way he was ramming his cock into your tight snatch.

“Fuck you’re so tight it’s like a soft vice is gripping my dick- Shit.” You never would’ve thought he could fuck you like this. Maybe it’s the added effect of the Aphrodisiac but you didn’t care either way. Even though deep down you wanted this to be real with everything in you you knew it wasn’t. His hands cup your tits as he lifts your top, half forcing you to stand back-to-chest. His lips land softly on your shoulder as his dick destroys you. The coil in your stomach strings ever-so-tight. The sudden way he bites your shoulder has you clenching onto him and you think that’s the last straw.

“Fuckkkk I’m gonna cum. Do that shit again, baby.” And you wholeheartedly agree with his statement. As you clench again you feel the band in your stomach snap and you’re met with a climax that almost surpasses the one earlier. His cum pours into you and you swear you’re on cloud 9. “Damn I’m still hard.” he spits and before you can think he has you back on the table this time in his lap.

With his cock still stuffing you, he pulls your legs back behind you both so you’re sort of kneeling forward, and his hands tightly grip your sides as he brings you all the way back down. The sound that rips through your throat has anything within a 10 mile radius running for the hills. You feel the growl deep in his throat rumble against your back. It felt like he impaled you with his cock. He reached places you never knew existed.

You have never felt so full in your life. Already having been filled with his seed, now he was fucking you again as if it is the last thing he would ever do, you feel like you were going crazy with ecstasy. The way his body feels against yours did nothing to help. The hard planes are a stark contrast with the soft--some would even say plushy--expanse of your body. You don’t even have to move seeing as Sicheng does that for you. He puts his arms to good use as he roughly lifts you up only to smack you against his hips. You knew they would probably be bruised in the morning.

You feel like you’re gonna pass out from all of this. It’s too much for you to take in all at once, especially after you had already almost had a near death experience earlier. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as you contemplate if you could cum again, the overstimulation starting to kick in as you get even more sensitive. “Sicheng. I-I don’t think I can cum again,” you slur against his ear looking up at the male.

“Last one baby, I know you can do it,” he says looking at you. His thrusts speed up as he tries to hurry and get you both to the end. Your consciousness started to slowly fade as you felt what would be your last orgasm of the night. With a broken moan Sicheng cums one last time as you feel your body start to shake as you experience the most explosive orgasm yet your eyes roll to the back of your head as you fade into black.

The feeling of soft sheets feels heavenly against your body. You awaken to find yourself in a bed somewhere unknown. You notice a shirt and underwear covering your body as you sit up and take in your surroundings. At that moment Sicheng walks in from a door in the room. “Oh you’re awake, finally.” Sliding into bed next to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, sticking his head in the crook of your neck.

Your hands lay on top of his as you slightly turn your head. “Where are we?” you ask, looking at his hair.

A muffled, “My house,” comes from the boy’s mouth, and you don’t have a chance to react before he pulls you down to lay on him. Looking up at his ceiling, you wonder if you should ask this or not.

“What does this make us?” Sicheng asks, tightening his grip on you, taking the words right out of your mouth. “Because I actually... really like you, and I want to go out with you.” Turning your head, you look up at the attractive male, intently listening to what he has to say. “I know it may not sound true but I’m serious when I say I really do like you. I have for a while now, I just didn’t have the courage to make a move until we were under the effects of the aphrodisiac.”

“I-I guess I like you too. At least, I’m willing to date you and see where this goes,” you say, laying your head back on his chest, sighing at the calmness of the moment. “One thing though. I think we should both apologize to each other. We’ve both said some hurtful things and I don’t want to start a relationship with that.” Turning over in his arms you look him in the eyes sitting your chin on his chest. “I’m sorry for saying the things I did. I admit I shouldn’t have said them and they were wrong.”

“Come here,” he says, lifting you up to kiss your lips. “You’re so cute. I’m sorry as well. I don’t really know anything about you or what you faced, and I shouldn’t have said anything.” You guys are a breaths width away till your lips softly meet again.

“So, uhh, what are we gonna tell Ms. Torrent about the missing bottle of aphrodisiac?”

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trisscar368 · 3 years

Note

Hey! I love your post about color theory (the one that started with Homer's "wine dark sea") and i was wondering if you know any articles or general bibliography which mentions the "mass Grecian colorblindness" (bc I saw you knew a specific date the theory was proposed). I'm doing my thesis on ancient Greek dress and I want to include some colors and your post has an excellent commentary for bluish/purplish hues!!

Hiya! Sorry it’s been three days since you sent this in, I’ve been very offline lately (new meds, no brain and no energy @.@)

I’m just going to stare existentially at the wall for a moment because a) oh god is that post still circulating? and b) I am honestly just a nerd on the internet and a 4 am post being involved in anyone’s thesis is a terrifying concept.

A lot of what I dug up to quickly back up my points I linked in that post and the rest I would need a bit of time to find again. There is some further commentary on Hebrew and the word for blue, and on purple vs violet in my #linguistic hijinks tag, but please actually evaluate the sources I used yourself if you’re going to reference them. I am just a random nerd on the internet, please do not let me become the monster I am currently trying to slay*.

Gladstone’s text is called Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age, and the basic theory (the progressive development of color words as needed) that I spent all those words breaking down was first published by Brent Berlin and Paul Kay.

I’ve also found some additional sources since that post was made that have discussed the deeper translation quandaries at hand - what I explained was one school of thought that I’d been introduced to previously, and which is still defended by modern scholars (some of the sources I used are less than a decade old after all), but the high level scholarly discussion is as debated as any other field - translation as a science (however soft) has gotten a lot less eurocentric over the decades since the theory was put forth, and some people have challenged the starting assumptions of that study. If you want to dig into that mess, starting on wikipedia and digging through their source pile is a great place to begin.

A lot of this is still on my deeper research pile, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be of much immediate help to you. A lot of my research brain and energy got shunted to other topics a few months ago**, and finding better quality sources for this topic than what I used would take a while and breaking in to a few university libraries. Not that I object to doing that, I do need to find some grimoires...

*Faust and Crossroad Summoning has become a Project because nobody has any ducking primary sources and all online articles say eerily the same thing in the same order with the same words, like they’re all quoting the same paper or each other...

**Faust and pre-faustian grimoires, crossroads lore and trying to figure out if there actually is a djinn variant or if Kipling was making shit up, victorian kink practices, and medicinal cannibalism in europe are all active research threads and at this point I am actively terrified of what the next fanfic I try to write will look like.

#cabbage consulting

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sugarydolli · 4 years

Text

Orange Juice | [REPOST]

Title ~ Orange Juice

Word Count ~ 2k

Pairings ~ Leon x Chubby!reader

Warnings ~ Body shaming, Bullying

Okay but do y'all see my new icon like 🥰

Repost from my wattpad storie lulz lemme send link 🖇️ https://my.w.tt/KjSStSQYkbb

"Come on Y/N," junko smirked "hes never gonna like you if your fat, keep throwing it up." You pushed slightly on your stomach to trigger more vomit.

With Junko standing behind you, taunting you as your breakfast pushed passed your lips.

You could see Mukuro start gather tissue for you to wipe your mouth off with.

You sat in class one day as the teacher rambled about nothing you cared about. The sun ran over the curve of your cheeks and lit up your (E/C) eyes as you were deep in thought.

"What if I was smaller"

"Would I be prettier?"

"Would he notice me?"

Not even noticing that class was over until two particular known sisters made their way over to you.

Junko slapped her hand down on your desk taking you out of your thoughts. Her sinister smile was a clear warning of her intentions which were obvious to you.

You expected nothing but harsh words, more things to make you regret your weight. But she unexpectedly had other plans.

Junko came to you as if she wanted to help you. She said she could make you look pretty. In your desperate state of mind you accepted.

Ever since then her way of making "pretty" was meeting her outside of the bathroom every 2-3 hours, practically shoving you face into a toilet and forcing you to gag your meals.

"Hey Junko.." you said weakly, your stomach aching being the 5th week you skipped lunch. "Did you ever find out what type of girls Leon is into?"

She thought about it while she chewed her food. "Why of course I did, and you know what he told me?"

You were practically leaning over the table, dying to know what the baseball player told her. "He said and I quote, "tight waisted bimbos with huge tits" end quote."

It felt like a spear ran threw your heart as you sunk into deep thought. "I'm sure he'll like you for who you are rather than what your physical appearance is Y/N."

"You filthy liar! I told her exactly what he told me."

"But Junko I was right ther-"

"Shut up!"

The thoughts in your head shut you out from the twins bickering. Your mind festering on the idea of fitting into Leon's type.

The sadness you felt turned into determination. Thinking about how you can cut out a few more meals, and exercise even more times a day. Wearing extremely heavy hoodies in raging hot weather to shed.

You were determined by the end of this month you'd fit his standards.

"Junko,"

Standing up, you caught her attention before she shot another insult to Mukuro. "I think I'm ready now."

A large malicious smirk panned across her face, rising up from her seat. "Let's go."

You shoved two fingers down your throat, nearly missing your uvula. Not much at first shot out but as you progressed more and more came out as your throat burned.

Beginning to feel dizzy, you leaned against the bathroom stall. Not having the energy to continue the assault on your throat. Once you gained your composure you restarted, plunging fingering back into your throat. Murkuro held your hair back away from your face as Junko unbeknownst to you recorded your gagging.

You finished up rather quickly, wiping spit from the corner of your mouth. You rummaged through your backpack looking for your tooth brush.

You walked over to the sink ignoring a few girls who just walked in stares of confusion. The first thing you noticed was your cheeks, usually a soft looking round was now turning hallow.

Your body over all seemed to be getting slimmer over the past few weeks. So much so you'd start to get compliments and praised.

For once you've felt good about yourself, Confident.

...

Until, from an anonymous account you were exposed. Several videos of you forcing yourself to barf was posted on this account.

"This you?"

Mukuro texted you while you got dressed in your uniform. Sending the account.

As if the multiple videos weren't enough, pictures of your dazed expression began circulating. Tears threatened your eyes, you reported each video and picture one by one.

-/-

You went into school, head hung low as whispers and giggles could be heard around you.

You would look up to see several faces looking at you with disgust, some occasionally with pity.

Ultimately, you decided that you weren't gonna let this stop you from reaching your goal. Even if it was draining you.

Today being mile day in PE made you teensy bit woozy, but still you convinced yourself of the "benefits"

The long track taunted you, seeming like it stretched for miles. "You've never seen any interest in mile before, Y/N..are you sure." Your PE teacher placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a understanding look.

You nodded gulping slowly before starting to sprint. At first it wasn't as bad (you told yourself) as you got about half way down the long course.

Your eyes were starting to get a bit heavy as you tried regulating your breath. The temperature only seemed to get hotter as you tried to block out the feelings.

"Was this a heat wave?" You asked your as you tried to push through. Darkness seemed to be clouding over your vision rather quickly.

And surely you passed out.

Condensation slid down your face making you wince. You blinked a few times before taking in the bright light on the ceiling.

You rose up quickly only to be pushed right back down. The school nurse, Mikan, giving a frighten shriek from your sudden movement.

"Please let me help you get up." Her worried tone, placing a hand on your back while you rose. "You passed out on the field." A quiver still in her voice.

Panic started to rise in your gut. "I..I did?" You didn't want to believe her words, seeing it more as an embarrassment than an health concern.

"A teacher carried you here with the help of a student." Mikan tried calming you down to prevent any other health problems.

Sadly her efforts wasted as you began to worry yourself on who the student was. Your nightmares only coming true when Leon suddenly walked through the door.

"Mikan is she alright? I heard talkin' and" Your eyes met sending a rush of pink to your cheeks. His pale blue orbs gazed into your F/C ones.

"Are you... alright?" Leon's gaze never leaving your eyes. Lips quivering to much for a verbal answer, you nodded.

Tears brimmed your eye line, you didn't want to met like this. This wasn't supposed to be this way. But his next words caught you off guard.

"Good. hate to see a pretty girl like yourself hurt." He followed up with a wink before sliding out of the office.

Awe casted on your face causing you jaw to open slightly. You were in shock, not even hearing Mikan rambling.

Once you were released from Mikan's office you headed to your locker. You managed to pick your jaw up off the floor but shock and awe still lingered.

You opened your locker open-mindedly. A small blush colored envelope fell out, you practically tore it open to see in somewhat messy handwriting:

A actual compliment..did I hit my head that hard? Am I in a coma?

Hey cutie ;), I'd call myself a hero for saving you today. How about you reward me with a little date later today?

- Leon

A squeal errupted from your mouth causing whoever around you a confused look. You were to caught up in your joy to even realize Junko and Mukuro making their way over.

A hand placed firmly onto your shoulder, turning you around to face them forcefully.

"Whaddya got there Y/N?"

Junko's tone too sweet for her own good, you held the letter up slowly in which she snatched it. "This has to be a fake." She said without looking.

Eyes widening, you look the letter back reading it over for any indications. The thought of this being some prank didn't even register to you.

"Well if you are going you know what you have to do" Her tone lowering to something darker. You have her a nod before once again walking to the dreadful bathroom.

You've grown tired of these plain walls as you stick a few fingers once again down your throat. Your senses activated causing you to hurl.

Junko chuckled, getting a sick sort of kick out your suffering. Mukuro narrowing her eyes at her sister, quickly sending a text to someone.

About five minutes later the sound of the bathroom door being slammed open caused you to rip your fingers out of your mouth.

Various shouts coming from behind the stall door as it was suddenly swung open. Leon stood in the frame with ishimaru not far behind.

The sudden appearance caught Junko off guard, almost dropping her phone. "Leon you can't just-" The short haired male turned his attention to the scene.

"Y/N...what are you doing?" Leon's face in confusion, you quickly wiped any remaining spittle off your chin before turning around completely.

Leon bent down, wiping your cheeks with his thumb. "I don't give a shit about your body, I like you just the way you are." He lifts you up, giving you a hug.

"Nothing, just a-" Junko was quick to cut you off. "A hard case of bulimia." Your hair fell down into your face, Junko continued to laugh.

She spoke in a bragging fashion as she told the two men of your dirty secret. Tears brimmed your lash line seeing Leon's eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

"And the funny part about it is...she it did all for you!" Leon's eyes widened, his mouth almost fell open as he quietly repeated her last few words.

"You told me that he likes small waisted girls and I-" a sob breaking your sentence, you fell down onto the bathroom floor sobbing uncontrollably. You felt hands gently pry your hands off your face.

Your usual small pink envelope fell right into your hands, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

You snuggle into his neck, now happy tears rolling down your cheeks.

- timeskip brought to you by the iconic cheez duo -

- about a month later

"You know, Princesses are usually found in castles. How'd I meet you here?"

Cheesy. You smirk to yourself before feeling large arms wrapped around you. Leon placed a kiss to your temple, filling spinning you around for a kiss to the lips.

"I guess the answer to your question would be, sometimes princesses get bored for waiting on their prince." Leon chuckled, sneaking in another kiss. "Well, it's not easy finding the right princess."

His hand instinctively latched onto your as you two walked down the hall to your first period.

Leon doesn't like you cause of your skin, your weight, or your face. He likes you because of you.

Uhh I know the themes in this got like really fucking dark and usually I don't like to to talk about these topics cause all around this is supposed to be a happier book and shit like that but it was actually requested of me once before.

I thought it was time to get out of my comfort zone and address this. You all are beautiful no matter what you look like, your body doesn't define you!! Your beauty inside and out. And if anyone tells you otherwise me and cheez will beat the- I mean kindly slap them around with kindness.

Anyways I love you all and everyone around you should to! You don't have to fit into what someone wants you to for them to love you. If they really love you, they'd love you for you! Appearance doesn't matter in love!! ((Praying I'm saying the right things))

And it is okay if you do wanna change how look. Just use the reader as an example not to do, please don't hurt yourself or take the easy route. Please choose healthy and non harmful ways to improve on your already beautiful self.

I'm really not good at this so I hope this little message didn't offend, comfort is nawt my strong suit BUT I love you all tremendously and I'll always be here no matter what.

- Cheez it chan & Cheez <3

#leon kuwata x reader #danganronpa leon kuwata #dr1 #leon kuwata #leon #danganronpa kuwata #kuwata #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa 1 #danganronpa #tw ed mention #tw ed content #tw bulemia #tw eating disorder #tw bullying #tw vomit

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booksarelife-stuff · 3 years

Text

The Story of Us- Chapter 2

Jily (James Potter/ Lily Evans), minor wolfstar

Word Count:

Modern Muggle AU. When Lily Evans meets the man across the hall due to a fire alarm, she has no idea that a new chapter of her life has begun. Featuring a librarian Lily and sports journalist James.

Masterlist Read on AO3 Chapter 3

Chapter 2- and the sparks fly...

Lily had found her love of libraries in secondary school. She remembers one day, specifically that started it all.

Petunia, Lily’s tight-lipped older sister, had gotten all her friends to make fun of her in front of everyone. Lily didn’t remember what it was that day that the gaggle of girls had decided to torment Lily on. It could have been just a simple “freak” thrown her way in the hallway.

What Lily does remember though, is finding solace in the library. She remembers running in there, looking for a private place to cry. She had sat in the back, near the reference section that was barely touched since the age of the internet. She started doing her homework there and more importantly started realizing that escaping into books was easier when she was surrounded by them.

The library Lily now called home was an old building, untouched by the modern buildings surrounding it. It was made of stone and when you walked in, you were greeted by the musky scent of old books.

This library had also brought more than a safe place in her adult life, but friends as well. Remus Lupin was the overseer of the adult non-fiction and reference section. Lily was convinced that man was Google. She could ask him anything about anything he’d probably have an answer. Then there was the children’s librarian from downstairs, Marlene McKinnon. Marlene was vibrant and offered great critiques of all the new teen show adaptations of young adult novels.

Lily had finally found a home for herself.

Lily was sitting at the circulation desk, waiting for patrons. Remus was running a workshop for homeless members of the community to get jobs and they had had a nice turn out. Lily had spent all night packing lunches for them and was yawning every five seconds.

She was tired and she didn’t notice the man who stepped up to the desk.

“Hey Lily,” a deep voice said. Lily’s throat filled with bile.

She looked up to see Severus Snape, a barista from across the street at the Starbucks. Also, her sort-of-ex.

Lily looked up and gave her customer service a smile.

“Hello Severus,” she said. “Did you find everything you needed?”

“Yes, I did,” he drawled.

“Great,” she said. She reached out for his book and library card. She tried not to make a face at the book he was checking out, something about government conspiracies, and scanned his card. Lily should have been surprised that he was even here at all, especially since Lily had to deal with a lot of talks that revolved around the internet making libraries useless from him. But he showed up, like clockwork.

“You have a late fee,” she said. “It’s only a pound.”

Lily checked out his book while he pulled out his wallet. She marked the fee as paid as he slid the pound over the desk. Lily handed him his card and book back.

“Due in two weeks. Have a great day,” she said, smiling.

“I was wondering if we could talk for a second,” he asked. Lily looked up into his deep brown eyes. She really didn’t want to, but she couldn’t think of an excuse, as there weren't any other patrons.

“About what, Severus?” she asked.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” he asked.

Lily mentally counted down from five in her head, trying to bite back the anger that flared inside of her. That was the thing with Severus. To him, he never did anything wrong and it was Lily that was holding the relationship back.

“No, afraid not,” she said, her tone coming out sharp. Severus’s nostrils flared a bit.

“That’s unfortunate,” he said.

“Is it?” she quipped.

His eyes flashed but the door swung open, stopping whatever he was about to say. Lily’s flickered to the new patron but did a double-take.

Standing there was James, Lily’s neighbor. He was wearing a white button up with a red tie and black slacks. The sleeves were rolled up, showing his arms again and the tie hung loosely from his neck. He had a black messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.

He gave Lily a small and a wave. He stood behind Severus, waiting in line. Severus looked pissed off as Lily’s eyes turned back to him.

“Is that all you need, sir?” Lily asked.

“Yes,” Severus spat. He grabbed his book and turned sharply. He walked out of the door.

Lily smiled widely as James stepped up to the counter.

“Hey neighbor,” James said, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Hey. What brings you to the library?” she asked.

“I heard that books contain knowledge and I need a specific kind,” he said. “And a library card.”

“Let’s get you a card first,” she said.

She learned James’s full name was James Fleamont Potter. She tried not to make a face at his middle name but James responded with a quick “yeah I know.” She learned his birthday was March 27 and that she was older than him by a few months.

She handed him his card and a little flyer that had instructions about their app that would let him browse their online collection and place holds on books they had on the shelves.

“So, what specific knowledge would you be needing today?” she asked.

“Ah well, remember the professional bowling team I mentioned?”

“The Cannons?”

“That would be it,” he said. “I need books on bowling. I know most of the rules of football and rugby, but I seem to be lacking some expertise on the intricacies of bowling.”

Lily laughed and started typing in their system.

“And you couldn’t Google that?”

James did a dramatic gasp that made Lily look up at him.

“Did a librarian just say I should Google something? That’s a sort of sacrilege,” James said, his hazel eyes wide with fake horror.

Lily laughed and turned back to her computer screen. She told him the number of the Dewey he could use to find books on bowling and he blinked at her.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Unfamiliar with the system?”

“Yeah. And this library,” he said.

Lily motioned for him to follow her. If Remus was available, he’d be able to go directly to the space on the shelf that contained books about bowling. It took Lily a minute to find them. She left James to browse and went back to the desk to find Marlene sitting at Lily’s portion of the desk.

“Hey Lil,” she said, stopping her spinning in her chair.

“Hey Marls,” she said.

“I’m on break,” she said, tossing her thick blonde hair over her shoulder. “I also have a story.”

“Do tell,” Lily said, taking her seat at the computer.

“A girl came in with her mother looking for a book,” she began, her blues eyes turning animated. “And I would have guess she was looking for the latest John Green or something, but this girl walks up to the desk and asks point-blank ‘Do you have Gone Girl?’”

Marlene took a dramatic inhale while Lily started smiling.

“She had to be no older than thirteen! And she wanted ‘Gone Girl!’” she exclaimed.

“Please tell me you didn’t let her check out ‘Gone Girl’?” Lily asked.

“Well, we aren’t in the business of judging are we?” Marlene said. “Our physical copy is checked out but I showed her how she could read it through our app.”

Lily laughed.

“Isn’t that book the one where the wife fakes her death?” James asked. Lily spun around to see James leaning against the counter, two books sitting in front of him.

“It is,” Marlene answered. She got up and stood next to Lily at the circulation desk. “Have you read it?”

Lily rolled her eyes as she scanned James’s card. Marlene would flirt with anything that moved, even though she had a lovely girlfriend waiting at home for her.

“I haven’t but my brother made me watch the movie,” James replied. “I really enjoyed it.”

Marlene hummed as Lily checked out the books to James. He had gotten two books, one about the theory of bowling, which Lily didn’t think was a thing, and one of different techniques and rules.

“Here you are,” Lily said, sliding the books back. “Please take a bookmark or two!”

“Yes please,” Marlene said. “Please don’t dog ear the pages.”

“Will do,” James said, picking up a colorful bookmark. “See you around, Lily.”

He gave her a small before turning away and walking out the door. Once he was gone, Marlene lightly hit Lily’s arm.

“He was totally flirting with you!”

“He was not,” Lily said, though she hadn’t really thought about it to determine if he was or not.

“‘See you around, Lily,’” Marlene quoted, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

“He’s my neighbor.”

Marlene widened her eyes even more.

“Since when did you get a hot neighbor? What about the old man?”

“James moved in a few weeks ago,” Lily replied. “He was the guy who brought his cat out during the fire alarm.”

Marlene started laughing. Lily had mentioned him when she saw Remus and Marlene the next day, but just focused on the cat. She didn’t tell them about their conversation.

“Well,” Marlene said. “I need to go back. But we aren’t dropping this James conversation.”

“There really isn’t much to be said,” Lily said as Marlene started towards the stairs. She turned before she headed down giving Lily a look.

“Then there needs to be,” she said. “He is ten steps up from Severus and I think you need to jump on that quickly.”

~~~

Lily waved at the security officer at the desk as she passed. Moody was scary looking fellow, but once Lily brought him sweets, he softened up to her. He always guarded her packages.

She quickly got her mail and got in the elevator with a nice old woman from the third floor. The ride was silent and once Lily made it to her apartment she collapsed on her couch, throwing her bag on the floor and the mail on her coffee table. The afternoon had gotten busy for her, as the after work crowd had come in around five. Not that she was going to complain that so many people were still using the library.

She debated ordering take-out, not feeling up to cooking but she couldn’t decide on what sounded best. She sat up and picked up her mail. It was mostly junk but she found a handwritten letter. She looked quickly at the name and realized it wasn’t hers, but was addressed to James from a Euphemia Potter.

Lily sighed and slipped her flats back on. She didn’t know if James was home yet, but she figured she’d at least try before she forgot. She left her door open as she made her strides to his apartment door and knocked three times.

“One sec!” she heard James call. She waited as she heard the thump of his footsteps get closer to the door.

He opened it, smiling. He had already changed out of his work clothes and was wearing a shirt that was old and faded and his sweatpants.

“Lily,” he said. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Lily held out the piece of mail, returning his smile.

“This was in my box,” she said. He looked down at the letter as he took it from her, his glasses low on his nose.

“Oh bugger,” he said. “Sorry about that. My mum seems to have put the wrong number. I’ll call and let her know she doesn’t do it again.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “I figured you would want a handwritten letter sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah. Mum’s a bit old fashioned,” James said, smiling. He leaned against the doorframe, his hazel eyes looking directly at Lily.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Lily said, turning away.

“Wait!” James said, causing Lily to turn back. “I was just about to start Outlander.”

“Wait, really?” she asked. She couldn’t believe that he was going to sit down and watch the show because she mentioned it to him.

“Yeah,’ James said, running a hand through his hair. “I was just about to order some curry, too. Wanna join?”

Lily blinked and James' face quickly fell. He started babbling.

“Not like a date or anything!” he started. “You’re just the first person I’ve really talked to since moving here and I think you’d be a, a great friend—”

“I’d love to, James,” she said, talking over his babbling. James smiled brightly.

She told him the best curry place that delivered in town and her order. She wanted to change into something more comfortable before they started so she ran back to her apartment.

Normally, Lily would be reserved about these kind of things, but James didn’t seem to be a threat. He had been nice enough and Marlene had always said she needed to put herself out there more. If that included eating curry while watching Outlander, she was more than happy to oblige.

She put on some leggings and an oversized jumper. She quickly put her hair up. She grabbed her phone and keys. She was almost out the door when she remembered a tub of ice cream she had in the freezer. She ran back and grabbed it, hoping James was a fan of brownie batter.

When she knocked, James let her in.

“Oh, ice cream?” he asked.

“Yep. Like brownie batter?” she asked. His eyes lit up.

“Yes! My favorite,” he said. “Besides mint chocolate chip.”

Lily made a face.

“Mint chocolate chip taste like bad tooth paste,” she said.

James let out an offended noise as he took the ice cream from her and walked towards the fridge.

“It does not!”

Lily smiled and looked around James' apartment. He had a decent sized television and a large gray sectional that looked soft. Buttercream was napping on the top of the couch, his tail flicking back and forth.

It wasn’t really decorated, Lily noted. He had a few pictures up but the walls were bare. Lily noticed some books on his entertainment center and went and looked at them. They were mostly about sports, rules and techniques, and whatnot. Lily also noticed the books he checked out earlier on his coffee table, one of them with a bookmark already in it.

“So,” James began entering the living room. “How much do you think I’m going to like the show?”

Lily hummed for a second.

“I think you’ll either get really into it or you’ll be indifferent,” she said. “I don’t know you well enough to give a better judgement. I don’t think you’ll hate it though.”

“Fair enough,” he said, petting Buttercream. “I looked it up and it sounds quite interesting.”

“Are you a big fan of period pieces?” Lily asked. James glanced up at her with a smile.

“Don’t tell my brother this,” he started. “If you ever meet him. But yes, I am.”

Lily smiled.

“What’s your favorite?” she asked. She watched as he ran a hand through his hair.

“My mum made me watch Pride and Prejudice so many times, I can recite the movie line by line,” he said.

Lily felt unbridled glee. That was her favorite movie, hands down. She knew it wasn’t accurate to the book but the tension between the characters in the movie drew Lily in more than anything.

“The 2005 movie?” she asked, her excitement showing.

“Yep. We did watch the BBC version quite a few times though,” James said. “I love Colin Firth, but there’s just something about the movie.”

They talked excitedly about the movie, comparing the two adaptations when their food arrived. Once they had settled on the couch, take-out containers and plastic forks in hand, James went to Netflix and started Outlander.

#jily #james potter #james potter/lily evans #lily evans #harry potter #marauders era #minor wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #jily fic #jily fanfic #Harry Potter fanfic #James x Lily

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cannibalisticapple · 4 years

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Okay, so I have some thoughts on Kurikuri’s decision to delete a large number of her fan fics, and on fan fiction as a whole.

For those who don’t know, Kurikuri (@letaizawarest) is a popular fan fiction author with numerous popular Erasermic fics, along with other fandoms. Around the end of May/start of June she deleted a large number of her stories, specifically those that featured either police, or those set in the My Hero Academia universe where they work as Pro Heroes.

To quote her post:

as you may have noticed, roughly half of the fics on my ao3 have been deleted.

i’ve deleted all my fics about police officers. also, after some thought, i also deleted my non-AU bnha fics, because although they might not be “cops” in name, they are law enforcement. i do not want to be a part of the system that glorifies the police.  

at the moment i haven’t deleted other profession AUs and high school era fics, but i will continue to reflect on their relation to the source material. even if you enjoyed the deleted fics, please do not circulate them in other formats (PDFs, EPUBs, etc).  

i also encourage other writers to think about cop fic they’ve written. while it may be fun and escapist for you, it still encourages the idea that antiblack and killer cops are just “bad apples” and that good cops exist. let’s dismantle that system of thought.

I have some very, very mixed feelings on this.

To start: I respect her reasoning, but I don’t agree with it. I fully agree that it’s not just a bunch of “bad apples”, there’s a serious issue with the system and how the police operate in the United States. I’ve always been bothered by how the police let other officers get away with horrible BS, even as a kid, and that rage has only grown as I’ve grown older and found out more about how screwed up it is on every single level.

But the way that last paragraph is written rubs me the wrong way because you can’t paint every single person in an entire career field as unequivocally corrupt, bigoted and all around callous murderers. Good cops DO exist. Plenty of people go into the career hoping to fix things, or just genuinely want to help their community in whatever way they can. But the thing is, they’re fighting a losing battle because the system is working against them. When they DO speak up against the corruption, bigotry, violence and other issues, they tend to get fired and blacklisted from the field. Or sometimes, they get outright murdered and it’s treated as a “suicide.”

A shitty fact of life: sometimes, the people who are more willing to resort to underhanded tactics and willing to turn a blind eye to corruption are the ones who climb up the career ladder furthest. And in the case of the police, it’s deep-rooted enough that it can’t be fixed internally anymore. But that doesn’t make literally every police officer corrupt.

I’m not posting this to make some political point or argument though. I obviously disagree with Kurikuri’s opinion, but I respect it. I can even respect her decision to remove the stories featuring the police, or even the ones heavily focusing on the characters’ jobs as pro heroes. I can see how heroes are just another version of law enforcement, because honestly, they are.

As a writer and a reader, I fully respect that it’s ultimately her choice to delete her stories. It’s not my place to make demands. She’s the one who created it, and as a writer I know the hard work and time that goes into crafting stories, so I believe she has a right in how it’s used and shared. The fact she shared it in the first place was something she didn’t have to do.

But the thing is, she DID share it, which is why I have this conflict.

As a writer, I’ve always believed that fiction can be more powerful than fact.

Fiction can give readers a window into mindsets you’d never imagine before, because you can connect more easily with fictional characters than real people on the news. That’s why Uncle Tom’s Cabin was so critical in the battle against slavery: it didn’t just gave a face to slavery, it let readers experience the characters’ lives directly. People got to see the struggles and suffering firsthand, feel the rising crescendo of hope each time freedom is in reach, and the soul-crushing despair every time that hope gets dashed by outside forces.

Fiction may not always be “true” or even “accurate,” but it can help us understand other people, see them as fellow humans, in ways that nonfiction just can’t. It can evoke emotions, empathy and familiarity in a reader that a news story or biography can’t capture because it draws you directly into their world.

And it’s that part—the part where readers enter this fictional world to connect to characters they’ll never meet—that leads to the other power of fiction that many people overlook:

Fiction has the ability to help readers persevere.

How many people reading this have used books to get away from trouble in their lives? To take a breather from all their anxieties and stress, and dive head-first into this other world for just a moment, where nothing else matters? How many people reading this had their whole lives changed by reading a story where a character’s words resonated with them? Where it helped them come to an epiphany about how to do better, how to be better.

Sometimes, the world is too overwhelming and we need to escape it. That’s the beauty of fiction. It lets us go to a world where our problems just don’t matter. Even if the world in question is worse than our own, it can still be a relief and give us hope because hey, at least we’re not living in 1984 or the Hunger Games, right? Stories are what keeps many people going through the hardest time, what gives them hope that life isn’t utterly hopeless.

And even after a story is finished, whether it’s fan fiction, a book, a show, or any other medium, that story will have a special place in people’s hearts. Many people will go back to those stories years later when they’re faced with immense stress and need a break from the real world, so that they can dive into the world that helped them persevere the last time they felt so bad. Just having a copy of it on hand can be a source of comfort even if you never read it again.

I want to highlight one phrase Kurikuri used in her post to describe how people feel writing stories about police and heroes: "fun and escapist”. That’s honestly so accurate, those stories are escapist, and that is why I’m so conflicted.

Stories about superheroes, while technically revolving around themes of law enforcement, are a form of escapism FROM police corruption.

There’s a reason that superhero comics are so popular in America. Superheroes appeal to a natural desire for justice because as so aptly pointed out, the real world doesn’t always HAVE that justice. It gives an ideal for people to aspire to, a glimpse of what could be, what should be. (Come to think of it, that’s probably why I hate the DC cinematic universe so much, it’s skewed way too much to favor the villains/antagonists and maximize suffering for the good guys.)

Right now, the world is full of more injustice than ever before. I can’t turn on the news without feeling my rage and stress boil over. Every day it gets worse and worse somehow, and I (and many others) genuinely fear that the United States may be heading towards a civil war this November. Donald Trump’s voice alone is enough to make my blood boil at this point.

I, and many others, turn to fan fiction so I can break away from reality because that amount of rage and fear just isn’t healthy.

I don’t have depression, or anxiety, or an abusive family, or a chronic illness. I’m not at risk of being made homeless anytime soon, nor do I need to worry about bills right now or going hungry. I’m a privileged white girl who has barely anything to worry about. What I’m saying is I’m fucking lucky and I know it, but I STILL can’t stand thinking about the state of the world and need to get the fuck away from it to take a breather for my own mental health.

And I also know that many people don’t have that option because their situation is so bad, they NEED to be aware of it at all times.

In the past when writing for other fandoms, I’ve had people tell me my fan fiction was the reason they did not commit suicide.

In my early college years I fell into the creepypasta community and was pretty active in it, especially on deviantArt. I don’t know if that particular fandom’s subject and focus makes it more appealing to teenagers going through rough times or what, but I swear, more than half the people I spoke to suffered from some form of mental illness, abusive or broken family and home situations, bullying, and every other way the world can screw someone over through means beyond their control.

During that time, a few readers left comments that waiting for my stories to update were what kept them going. They didn’t explicitly say that it was the only reason they didn’t kill themselves. It was more just remarks like, “Your writing is the only thing keeping me going.”

I’m not vain enough to believe my stories are so good, it made people decide to continue living JUST to see what happens next. Suicidal thoughts and urges are much more complex than that. But it’s still not something you expect to hear on something you write for fun.

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t because my stories were "just that good.” I think it was because they needed something to cling to in bleak times. That sometimes at the lowest point where all seems lost, people need just one little thought, just the smallest thing to push away those dark urges before they could fully overwhelm them. Something like, “If I die now, I won’t get to see how that story ends.” It’s such a small thing, but having something to look forward to can be so powerful in fighting off impulsive decisions.

It’s made me hyper-aware of just how powerful writing is.

To me, I see writing as a way of helping others. I give people that option for escape. It’s a large part of why I update on a regular, weekly schedule, and why I published extra chapters when the pandemic got announced and when the riots started. People need that comfort, that little break from reality to just sit and breathe so they can get through the rest of the day. I can’t do much to fix the world, but I can at least give people that.

Right now, people need that escape more than ever.

And deleting the stories is taking that escape away and causing MORE stress.

In times like this, people often turn to the stories they know will help most, and plenty of people in fandoms will first search up their favorite ships. They look for fluff, smut, angst... It helps people feel better to focus on these two people who are obviously in love as they work through their troubles.

Many times, readers will be more drawn to stories in the canon universe than radical AUs set in other universes. That’s how they were introduced to those characters. I myself can enjoy no-power and fantasy AUs sometimes, but what I really crave are how they interact in the canon world because that’s the world and versions of them I want to see the most. By deleting EVERY SINGLE STORY IN THE CANON UNIVERSE, that option was removed.

In many of the stories that were deleted, the characters’ careers were honestly a minor facet of the story. Some used it to establish the setting, such as treating injuries after a patrol. Some just simply used it to explain they work at UA, a school for teaching kids with superpowers. Some just had them work as heroes because it’s set in the canon universe, and never directly show ANTTHING about the work.

I’m not always looking for a story about how being a hero shapes and impacts their lives, and most of those stories that got deleted AREN’T about being a hero. That’s just one piece of their character, it’s far from the focal point. It could honestly be removed from several of them without changing the rest of the story.

I can get wanting to make a political point and I respect that, but by deleting those stories, you’ve taken away a key source of comfort from hundreds, thousands of people. By deleting the stories, you’re making the stress worse.

On Saturday night, I realized several of my favorite stories are suddenly gone. I knew Kurikuri had deleted a bunch of her stories, but I hadn’t realized just how many of them I liked. Some of them I’ve specifically sought out to reread multiple times in the past, never really paying attention to the author. Realizing they’re just gone caused me heavy stress because it made me paranoid about all these other stories I like to reread. I don’t expect those stories to be around forever, but I still didn’t expect them to vanish so suddenly. I never thought I’d need to download them to make sure I’d still be able to read them while the site is still up.

I spent hours searching out specific stories to see if they were written by her, and make sure they’re not gone forever. I have no way of knowing which ones she’d written and deleted because there’s not exactly a list out there anymore. My desperate search for those stories and one in particular (which I still haven’t found) contributed to the lack of sleep I got that night.

And I need to reiterate: I am mentally healthy and have no major stresses in my immediate life. And that’s why I’m hyper-aware of how this stress will affect people who AREN’T as lucky as I am.

If an author decides to delete their stories because they feel the stories themselves push harmful values or themes, fine. If they’re getting harassed, or it reminds them of a bad time in the lives, or they just don’t like that story anymore, okay. I can respect that and accept it.

But these stories were deleted for the EXACT reasons that people will be looking for them now more than ever, and that’s where I draw the line.

This applies to ALL fandoms.

If you as a fan fiction writer have more than, say, 100 kudos on a completed story or one-shot, there’s a good chance people will read and reread your story in stressful times. If you have a reasonably popular story that updates on a regular or even semi-regular basis, there is a chance that someone is using it as a lifeline to have something to look forward to while the rest of their lives go to hell. Maybe not because they specifically love it, but because it gives them something routine.

I want to make it clear that it’s not our job to care for other people’s mental health. Fan fiction writers don’t have an obligation to people, we’re doing it for fun first and foremost. We’re not some sort of saviors, and we shouldn’t think of ourselves that way or we can honestly screw people up worse. We’re not obligated to write these stories JUST for our fans.

At most, our stories are sources of support and comfort for readers. A little break from reality. If writing a story is causing you more stress than enjoyment, stop. Fan fiction, and all other fan media and stories in general, is ultimately created for the creator’s enjoyment more than anything.

Your own mental health comes first. Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

But with how utterly fucked and unfair the world is right now, people need those stories now more than ever. So if you’ve got a story out there that’s fairly popular, please, please, PLEASE be mindful of your readers before deciding to delete it. Now is the absolute last time people need more stress trying to find a single story. And if you’re going to delete it, maybe give readers a heads up so that those who need it or have some powerful attachment to it for all the reasons I’ve discussed here can download a copy for their own personal use.

Don’t hurt your readers to make a point.

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fandom #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #kurikuri #letaizawarest #erasermic #maizawa #writing #stories #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #tw suicide #superhero #superheroes

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strayen-fx · 4 years

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Counting Stars

Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

○○○

You felt something so right by doing the wrong thing.

You were never a party person--you were never a people person, actually. You hated crowds, especially crowds that contain more than three human beings.

And that is precisely why your parents were more than surprised when you told them you were going to prom.

It was already D-Day, and the mix of shock and interest in the faces of your folks would have made you feel so guilty. But, for some reason, you were feeling nothing at the time but excitement. You told them your friend's date ditched them on the last minute--lie--and that they needed company for the night--another lie. Maybe. You hoped it wasn't a lie. You really wanted to believe that your friend wants your company.

You told them your friend has already rented something for you, and that you were going to get fixed in their house. When your parents asked you to take some pictures, you rolled your eyes and reasoned: "Going to prom is uncomfortable enough. Do I really need to do something even more uncomfortable?"

Do you need a ride home? "I'd stay with my friend overnight."

What time will you get home? "I don't know." Truth.

Your parents were too surprised, and also too excited by the fact that you were trying to get out of your comfortable box, that they didn't bother to question you any further. They trusted you and your decisions. You were their quote-baby-unquote, but you were big enough to handle yourself. They were holding on to that.

And so, before your parents could change their minds, you headed straight towards Chan's home.

°°°

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be serious?"

After spending a few hours watching Interstellar (Chan's choice), you stepped out into the early night in your hooded sweater, jeans and sneakers. Chan was sporting an almost identical look, and together, the two of you looked like a pair of troublemakers heading off to wreak some havoc.

You pointed at Chan's motorcycle. "You expect me to ride that machine of destruction? Do you even know the fatality rates? They're crazy. Over the last year--"

Chan laughed, cutting you off. He expected that kind of response. "No need to pull a PowerPoint presentation, Y/N." He placed his hands on your shoulders and tried to meet your eyes. "This night is all about 'getting out of your comfortable box,' remember? This is the first step."

"The first step was lying to my parents," you corrected him.

"Touché. So this is the second step."

"Being twin masked-riders prowling the night? That is our second step?"

You tried to remind yourself that this is Chan: resident troublemaker, outlier, the obvious suspect. Of course he's using a bike. Sure, he's got a huge black bike that he probably uses for his personal illegal matters. Or at least, that was what people said about him. You have believed such rumors for, what, three years?

And then, a week ago, the two of you were brought together for a school project. You finally realized that all of the rumors were just that: rumors. Made to taint his reputation, because people need Chan, you know? They need guys like Chan so they could point their finger towards someone else and say: that's the bad guy.

One week of being with him was enough to erase all the negative impressions that had seeped into your mind. It was enough time for you to realize that everyone else was just... well, blind.

Chan grinned, handing you his spare helmet. "There's a whole big world to see. You won't see any of it if you won't move your feet forward."

°°°

Chan felt something so wrong by doing the right thing.

Given, you were the one who suggested the whole thing: ditching prom, having a night drive all across town (not in a bike, though--that wasn't part of your plan). But still, when you clamped your arms tightly around his waist, Chan felt something tug at his insides. It was a foreign feeling, but his mind knew it was something wrong. Something he shouldn't be feeling, especially not towards someone like you.

You were the poster picture of a good kid. Headed off to an Ivy League school, offered scholarships, loved by teachers and the school board. He was almost the exact opposite.

He has also been a regular talk of the school body, but not because of his achievements or anything of the sort. He was labelled a rebel, a scapegoat, someone who is always off to no good. Because he got a kid hospitalized for messing with his friends back in freshman year.

The kid tried to tingle with the breaks of Lee Felix's car. It would have caused a major accident costing the lives of more than five people, but that part of the story didn't matter. News that Chan has some tendencies began circulating, and the label stuck until senior year.

Once people see a small stain in you, they begin seeing nothing else but that stain. It's hard to get out of a label, especially if people were seeming to enjoy seeing you crumble. Chan didn't crumble, of course. He stood tall. But still.

He felt like you being with somebody like him was just plain wrong.

He wanted to give you the chance to step out of your comfort zone and see the vastness of the world. You deserved at least that. So when you approached him with your special request, he didn't have the heart to decline. You trusted him despite everything you may have heard from him. That was more than enough for Chan.

He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding through his back.

°°°

"Chan.... this is so.... beautiful."

Chan entered the woods, and for a moment you were genuinely afraid for your life. But then a serene lake came into your view, and you knew it was the right decision to trust him.

Chan parked a few meters from the water. You immediately took your helmet off and ran towards the bay, your hands clutched over your heart in deep admiration. You have always loved water -- it helps you calm down, especially during those times when you felt like being you was the biggest mistake you've ever committed.

"I have no idea we have a lake around here," you said, smiling widely.

Chan grinned. "You can't find it in the books, wise girl."

You jokingly glared at him before staring back into the water. You thought: Chan's right. There is a whole big world to see.

If I have Chan, maybe I can start seeing the world around me.

The lake was glistening faintly, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. It was nothing special, really--just another lake in a small town under the vast collection of stars, but being with you there made Chan feel like he was standing at the top of the freaking world.

And at that moment, Chan felt so weak.

°°°

It has been at least an hour since you arrived at the lake. Chan took out a blanket and some snacks, and the two of you sat talking as you watched the stars in the night sky. Actually, it was mostly you doing the talking, which was out of character. Chan was oddly quiet and distracted.

And you were afraid. Not of Chan, of course, but of the invisible wall that has suddenly appeared between the two of you.

"Hey. Is everything all right?"

Chan nodded, his expression stone-hard and unreadable. "I just kinda think we should go home now."

"What?" You checked your watch. "It's not even midnight, Chan. Is anything wrong?"

He pursed his lips. Then he began standing up, collecting your trash into a small plastic bag. "Come on."

You stood up, confused and exasperated. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything!" Chan shouted. You flinched. His gaze softened and he continued, "Everything is wrong with me, Y/N. You shouldn't even be talking to me."

And you understood. You understood what he was talking about.

"Chan..." You reached for his hands and held them within yours, relieved that he didn't try to yank them back. "Look at me. I know what those guys say about you. I have heard of all the rumors, the bad words, the accusations. They say you're unpredictable, that you hurt people, that you're...." You sighed. "But I also know that they're not true. Chan, in just a matter of week you have shown me how beautiful this world is. You taught me how to see things in a different perspective. You have shown me how to break free from my mechanical life. Hell, you even made me ride a bike."

A soft laugh escaped Chan's lips. You smiled. You brought your hand to his chest, right over his thumping heart.

"Chan. I know you better than those people. Their opinions do not matter. This heart? This heart contains all majestic and spectacular things. This heart contains the most amount of kindness I have ever felt. This heart gave me warmth. I hope you could realize how much you're worth. How beautiful you are. How ethereal you are. How--"

Your words were cut off with the feeling of Chan's lips on yours.

He was warmth and radiance and perfection, and though the kiss only lasted for a few seconds, it has left your mind in a swirling haze of euphoria.

You thought: He kissed me.

You thought: Did that happen? Did that just happen?

Chan pulled you into a tight hug, and nothing else mattered anymore. You hugged him back, easing yourself into the comfort of his wildly beating heart.

"Let's stay like this, yeah?" Chan said, and he meant something much more than embracing each other under the moonlight.

You giggled. "Until we have finished counting the stars."

Chan smiled. "Until the universe run out of stars."

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tuz-on-ao3 · 3 years

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Hey, I was reading your fic (I really like it by the way! Sasuke's, my favorite character, and I think you wrote him really well :D), and I was wondering, what's your writing process? I know everyone has something different that works for them, but how do you plan out your chapters, or get ideas, or things like that (very vague, I know, I'm sorry)?

Hiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!! Thank you sugar plum for reading Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done and liking my characterization of Sasuke, it’s very heartwarming and I appreciate it.

As for my writing process, oof. As you know everyone’s writing process is really different and it has been a joy to learn more about other people’s process to help figure out what works for me. This is something you can absolutely cherry pick with and try things out for the first time.

Timing: some people write better at certain points during the day, some people can start writing at 5am or write till 3am in the morning with a late start. I am a mix of both. I can start writing around 9am because that’s when my internal ticker is like “Let’s go to work now!” It’s just how my school and internship schedule line up. I also just write when I am bored(while in class sometimes) and late at night if I really have the momentum. Which happened for some of the chapters I have written for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done. So figure out what works for you. Also, timing myself sometimes helps, I use Pomodoro as a way to keep track of my work, I don’t necessarily take my short breaks.

Initial phase of writing: I draft first and I backwards outline as I go along and then I hit a wall. The idea circulates in the back of my mind and I either get a sense of a scene or a situation that I want the characters to go into and I start writing. Writing the story informs me where it’s going to go, it comes to me during the process. However, I will hit a wall. The fics I write are rarely short(shoutout to the people who can do short and sweet, your sense of pacing is unreal and I bow to your greatness) so there is a lot of worldbuilding, plot, and character development that needs to happen. Important thing to note, just because you are writing fanfiction doesn’t mean you can skip worldbuilding. It is very important!!!!!! It doesn’t need to be the crazy amount that I do but you need to set your reader up in a place and time so give some context.

Timeline: Things happen at certain places and times, and my characters will be a certain age when it happens, so I need to keep track. One of the walls I’ve hit is that for my current posted fic Sasuke spends time in jail, but how much time was not made clear in my non existent early planning and that changes the way things happen. And how old he is, and how much time should I spend on that prison sentence. If it was a long time then I need to talk about it as a life event that will have consequences throughout the entire fic, or if he was just detained until his lawyers came that changes Sasuke’s character. It also is a good way to talk about the criminal justice system of Konoha that I am making up. So I keep track of everyone’s ages, and birthdays, and sometimes I change them. I mean it is really hard for me to write baby ninja that go out into the battlefield when they are four years old and not make the entire fic about a shitty world like that. I don’t want to do that, it’s too fucking hard, and fluff feeds my soul. Also, seasons!!! That changes the way you set up your environment as well, from what I can tell Fire Country should have a monsoon season since they are so forested and are located near the equator of their world. So when that happens, if I decide to include that, is important for pacing of the story. I mean how long should this go on? Also, romance in the rain *hitn hint wink wink* who knows.

Outlining: I didn’t use to be an outline and to some extent I still am not. I have done a previous post explaining a little bit of it but I backwards outline to keep track of what is happening because it’s a lot of detail and I don’t want to make mistakes. However, spreadsheets are my jam. I didn’t use to be this way but my internship has changed me and now I like spreadsheets as a way to be organized. Huzzah *throws confetti in the air* to being a boring adult person! There are a couple of way to do this but first actual writing notes:

5 commandments of story

Inciting incident

Progressive complications

Crisis

Climax

Resolution

This is something that helped me a lot when it came to structure, because sometimes my plot points are all happening at the same time and I’m like this makes no goddamn sense, what is happening. Story Grid is a podcast, and a book, and a website that can help you talk about structure. They can also talk to you about the Hero's journey. Take or leave whatever works for you because a lot of their stuff doesn’t work for me. But in doing their spreadsheets and exercises I learned what doesn’t work in a story. It’s how I realized pacing was a problem in my writing, and that I needed to take time away.

So they have sample spreadsheets that break down books into scenes, turning points, characters on stage, etc. Take what works and leave what doesn’t.

Back to spreadsheets, I have a story grid one for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done which I will backwards outline for the chapters I have already posted and a weird visual index card thing with the five commandments on my computer to help me figure out what is happening in my story.

It looks kind of like five boxes side by side with the five commandments written on each one.

Sometimes there is more than one box for progressive complication and that is fine, it is also fine if every scene you write doesn’t have a resolution, because by the end of the fic you will have one. I split this up by chapter, expected word count, POV.

Word count: Some people care about this, some people don’t. I don’t write stuff for ‘Maybe’ that is less than 10000 each chapter, there is way too much going on in the fic to do short chapters. For my other works in progress I find that I will be writing shorter, which is both easier and harder because it needs me to be concise and clear. Anyway, I do take notes from Story Grid in this because 50% of my words have to be for my middle build, while 25% each go to the opening hook and to the ending payoff. A scene is about 1200-2000 words.

Wiggle Room: Shit happens, you don’t do as much one day and you do a lot another. It’s okay, your story will evolve at certain points, it will tell you what to do. Don’t worry about it that much.

Struggle/villainy: Protagonists are often defined by their antagonists, and if that is the type of story you are writing make sure you spend just as much time on the villain of your story as you do the hero. They are major actors and deserve the attention. When I talk about the Akatsuki I am thinking that they are an international terrorist organization hellbent on kidnapping people that are systematically treated as weapons. There are a lot of moving parts for this. Also the characters themselves, Pein and Konana are radicalized in my story from peaceful revolutionaries to violent ones because they watched the leader of an institution murder their best friend, that will cause personal and political damage. It informs the way I write them or will.

Sasuke's struggle isn’t necessarily against a person, it is against himself. He wants a home because when he was little the one place where he felt safe was violated by his own brother, that is a hell of a trauma. Then he left his former home to go to Oto. Place has a huge part to play in Sasuke’s characterization and I tag homemaking in my fic because I want to show the process of creating a home for yourself as a process of revival and change and hope and vulnerability. It is a huge emotional labor of love and will be a focal point in the fic. That’s why I spend so much time talking about these goddamn renovations and art deco, it matters. This is a boy who has traveled all over the world and is now trying to put all the pieces of himself into one place, how he does it will be incredibly revealing of his characters.

Character: Emotional arcs are important for everyone. Try to figure out what your character is going to go through. It helps so much. Victoria Schwab asks her characters three questions:

What do they fear?

What do they want?

What are they willing to do to get what they want?

See if this helps. Also, understand that you got to develop your side characters as well, they act as a foil for the main character and add richness to the story, you will notice if they are flat. Understand the dynamics they bring to the story and to the world. Are they a woman in a field that is more socially acceptable for men? How does that affect them? What does gender look like in this world and how does this affect your characterization? Have they gone through physical/emotional trauma? Because that shit will keep coming up in a story, healing takes time. Also this is a fanfic, do whatever you want honey bear.

Vocab: the lovely @slexenskee told me to have a running doc of vocabulary and I am trying to do that.

I also have a running doc for a fic/character where I put all my brainstorming, little scenes, lines, vibes, questions into. And a doc for the synopsis of any new fic ideas I get.

Inspiration: Read, a lot. I read fics, I read fiction and fantasy books, I read non fiction and I read about other people’s writing process. I read the news, I read twitter threads, I read random quotes on Pinterest. I watch tv shows and take note of how they do characterization or pacing or plot. I listen to music, I couldn’t live without it. I am on Pinterest looking for vibes or aesthetics for my fics. When I first started writing, since my fic was inspired by another fic, I was worried it would be too similar, that worry is fading because I am doing more writing, and more reading as well. But you must consume culture in order to produce it. Also take breaks, sometimes you figure stuff out if you leave it alone or talk to friends about it. If you reach out to me about it, I will do my best to help so feel free.

IMPORTANT: DO NOT BE A RACIST/HOMOPHOBIS/TRANSPHOBIC/MISOGYNIST. UNDERSTAND THAT WHEN YOU WRITE A FANFICTION THE CHARACTERS ARE CODED IN A CERTAIN WAY. DON’T GO AROUND MAKING PEOPLE OF COLOR WHITE OR MORE LIGHT SKINNED THAN THEY ARE. WOMEN AND NON BINARY PEOPLE EXIST ALWAYS, IF YOU ARE NOT WRITING THEM INTO YOUR WORLD THAT MEANS YOU ARE MARGINALIZING THEM IN YOUR WORLD AND IN YOUR MIND. IF YOU ARE CISGENDERED BE DAMN CAREFUL ABOUT WRITING TRANS NARRATIVES, PROBABLY DON’T. WHEN I DECIDED TO INCLUDE MY OWN CULTURE INTO SASUKE’S CHARACTER AND PAST I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE HIM LESS EAST ASIAN BUT TO ADD PARTS OF MYSELF TO THE WORLD. ACCEPT AND ADAPT TO CRITICISM COMING YOUR WAY IN THIS SENSE. I AM SURE YOU WILL BE FINE, THIS IS JUST A STANDARD DISCLAIMER.

This was really long, and I hope you won't mind. Thanks again for this question, and let me know how your writing goes. Also listen to Deadline City the podcast.

#answers #fic writing #process #naruto

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elsdaydreams · 5 years

Text

Call me when you get home

Pairings: Desmond Miles x Reader

Prompt: “Call me when you get home.”

Word Count: 1893

Warnings: Cursing, kidnapping, a break-in, drinking, and I think that’s all folks?

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for like a year or something? And what I did write was also sitting in my google docs for like, a month. I hope you like it, sorry I’m the worst!

It had been several days since you had seen Desmond. Normally, it wouldn’t have raised any alarm. The voicemail that sat in your inbox from four nights ago exactly is what made your stomach twist into knots. Sitting quietly in your kitchen, you pressed play on the message for what seemed like the millionth time. At this point, you could probably quote the damn message.

“Hey, listen I’m about to head into work. Got called by fucking Kayla to cover fucking Will’s shift - again.” He made an indignant huff into the microphone. “I’m trying to be optimistic about it, if you can’t tell.”

When you first heard that, it made you chuckle. Now, however, all you wanted to hear was him answering his phone.

“Anyway,” he mumbled, “I’m just about to walk in. Call me when you get home so I know you got home safe. G’night.”

Whenever he worked late, he always made sure that you got home safe and sound. That night you called around 11 to let him know you had gotten home safely. Once you had forgotten to give the call and he’d shown up at your apartment building at 2 in the morning to make sure you were okay.

You ran your hands over your face, and in a sudden moment of guilt - that you weren’t doing enough for the man who went above and beyond for you - you slipped on your shoes and walked down to Bad Weather.

________________________________________________________________

“You’re really gonna bartend?” You asked as the two of you walked down the streets of New York.

“Why not,” he said simply. “I mean, I’ll learn the basics of it, but I think my good looks will earn me some decent tips.”

You rolled your eyes, meeting his gaze with a dead stare. “Uh-huh, but what about the late hours- or the drunks who want to share their life stories? I never pictured you as the therapist type.”

“Please,” he motioned with his hands, “I’ve got the solemn, two nods of the head down pat.” He shot a wide smile at you as he held open the door to the bodega down the street from his apartment. “I do it for you all the time. Plus, that means I don’t have to tell anyone anything about me.”

“Shut up,” you said, pushing him inside as he laughed with you.

________________________________________________________________

You quickly found that it was even more frustrating when you uncovered that no one had seen him since Saturday night, nor had anyone seemed to care. Sitting down on the stairs to the nightclub, you grabbed a cigarette from your purse and lit up. Fucking Kayla didn’t seem to care much that her best bartender was MIA. All she knew was that he was here one moment, went outside and never came back.

“No call, no show, no job. Company policy,” Kayla said without any remorse.

“Guess that only applies when you’re not fucking the manager,” you replied curtly, glaring at Will. “Have a great night, Kayla.”

Flicking the ash onto the concrete, you briefly wondered if something happened to him when he went on break to check his phone. Surely, someone would’ve noticed. It was a Saturday night, after all. Even a shit nightclub such as Bad Weather would’ve been packed, and no one seeing anything was just not sitting well with you. You dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out, deciding that even if no one else gave a shit about what happened to Desmond Miles - you would figure it out.

________________________________________________________________

It was, decidedly too goddamned hot for September. Bad Weather told you absolutely nothing about what might’ve happened to Desmond. His apartment told you no more than Bad Weather did. Laid out in front of a fan that circulated the hot air around your tiny apartment. Frustrated wasn’t even the word to describe how you were feeling about Desmond’s disappearance anymore. It exasperated you, in that you felt as though you were the only person who remembered Desmond. You grabbed your phone again, closed your eyes, and pressed the play button.

“I swear to god, if I have to cover for Will again,” Desmond growled out, his body sprawled out over your couch and his face incredibly close to the screen of his phone. You walked into the living room, throwing a bottle of water at him.

“You should really invest in a pair of reading glasses,” you said as you crossed the room and opened a window. The familiar buzz of the city entered the room, only partially covered by the noise from your fan.

“And have the government know my weakness,” he questioned sarcastically, moving the phone away from his face with a lopsided smile. “Besides, I don’t need reading glasses.”

When he said stuff like that, you were never 100% sure if he was joking or not. Regardless, you rolled your eyes anyway and sat in front of the fan. “Right,” you drawled out, “because the words are just super tiny and blurry for everyone.”

“That’s right,” he laughed, taking a sip of his water.

________________________________________________________________

A loud bang startled you out of your sleep; your heart began to race, making your entire body hot. Just as your mind began to relax, assuming that it must’ve been your roommate - or the assholes on the floor above you, two more loud bangs resonated from just outside your bedroom door. Shit, shit, shit, was all your brain could think up at that exact moment in time, as you climbed out of your bed and grabbed the bat that was leaning on your dresser.

“Could you be any fucking louder,” a female voice whispered. Despite it being muffled through the thin walls, it felt as though it were screamed into your ears. You guessed, that maybe they were in the kitchen; if they were, you had the slightest bit of escaping through either the front door or the fire escape in the living room.

Holding your bat by your side, you opened the bedroom door and prayed the hinges wouldn’t squeak. You listened closely for footsteps, or any sort of sign that whomever was invading your space hadn’t gotten closer. Creeping down the hallway, you could hear your heart beating in your own ears. You heard the slightest sound from behind you, you couldn’t decipher if it was a breath - or maybe the floorboards? - before swinging the bat in the darkness.

You heard a grunt, and ran down the hallway before colliding with someone. “My apologies,” you heard a man’s voice say - and before you could even scream your mouth was covered and your world went black.

________________________________________________________________

Christmas Eve, 2008

When Desmond told you that he was never ‘into’ Christmas, you were determined to change his mind. You told him to be at your house early in the morning, his gift already wrapped up perfectly.

The christmas tree was lit up with warm lights and ornaments you’d collected over the years. You were pulling out all the stops for Des, making him breakfast, opening presents, a ham dinner. Desmond’s contribution was alcohol - and he provided a steady stream of it throughout the day.

“I call this one,” he poured the drinks out into glasses, “the Shirley Templar.”

Desmond passed you the cup, waiting to take a sip of his until he saw your reaction. “Templar,” you questioned, taking a sip and nodding in approval. “It’s good.”

“Just good,” he asked, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“It’s really good,” you said. “Templar,” you questioned again, with a quirk of your eyebrows. “Like, the Knights Templar?”

“Uh, yeah,” he took a long sip of his drink. “My, uh, dad. I guess that you could say that my parents were conspiracy theorists.”

“Right,” you said, slow to understand because of how much you’d been drinking throughout the day.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like we lived on a farm, with a bunch of other people that thought that they were out to get us.”

“I got out of there as soon as I could but,” he took a deep breath, “I guess I still miss some aspects of it. Like, my mom.”

You leaned and put down your drink on the coffee table, before resting your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it with me, if you don’t want to.”

Golden brown eyes met yours, a sparkle to them that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Shut up.” Desmond’s head leaned to rest on yours. A beat passed, and the two of you rested in the comfortable silence. “You’re the only person I could - would tell about this.”

You grabbed his hand with yours, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “Going soft, are we Miles?”

“Shut up,” he said again, a small laugh coming out as he pushed you away from him. You laughed with him as you laid down on the couch, swinging your feet into his lap.

“You better be nice to me or I’m returning your gift,” you poked him in the stomach with your toe.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too,” he smiled at you.

________________________________________________________________

Every bone in your body ached, your head against the floor of a car - van, maybe? - and all you could think of was the first Christmas you’d ever spent with Desmond. Hell, when he’d first told you, you agreed with him - his parents were just crazy conspiracy theorists. But now, after he’d disappeared without a trace and you know, the obvious: your home had been broken into and you’d been kidnapped, you wondered if maybe their theories had merit.

The car shifted and you could feel your stomach clench, suddenly feeling nauseous. You heard voices, a woman, the same tone that you heard from you kitchen say… something. Your brain still felt foggy from the chloroform - you guessed that’s what they used anyway. The vehicle stopped completely, a moment passed before two hands grabbed your shoulders and sat you up.

Ragged breaths escaped your mouth when you felt the blindfold being taken off.

“Hey there,” the woman said as she crouched in front of you. A hard stare was all you could muster back towards her. “You must have a lot of questions, I’m sure.”

“Mhm.” Another deep breath.

“You’re a great conversationalist. Can tell why Desmond liked you.” Your head snapped towards the man. He was tall, with salt and peppered hair, and light blue eyes. The way he stood, with his hands on his hips reminded you of -

“Desmond?” Your groggy voice made itself known, your eyebrows quirking themselves upwards. The question presented itself in your mind: did these people have Des? They were obviously capable of kidnapping, that much you knew.

“He’s not with us, if that’s what you’re asking,” a British voice appeared, you looked towards the front of the van, finding him in the driver’s seat.

“But, you know where he is?” Silence. You looked at the individuals in front of you, only three of them you had decided. The British man and the short haired woman stared at the older man.

Your eyes met, as he nodded. “Yeah. We know. But you don’t. You need to keep it that way.”

“Fuck off,” you growled out. “Where is he?”

The girl shrugged slightly, “you even know what you’re getting into?”

#assassins creed #ac imagines #assassins creed imagines #desmond miles #desmond miles imagine #desmond miles x reader #desmond miles oneshot #oneshot #request at your own risk #you might never get an answer or reply

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 5 years

Text

The Invisible Cord- Chapter 6

Need to catch up? Go here!

***

November 2011

Location unknown

“How the hell did this happen?!” I yell at the useless clone before me.

“They were working with someone. We have yet to find out who.” Spender’s clone responds as he puts another cigarette between his lips.

I swat it out of his mouth in anger, “Check fucking security cameras! Talk to witnesses! Do what you have to do to find them! They’re too valuable to lose.”

“I understand ma’am but it may become more complicated if it turns out Mulder and Scully are involved…” He has the grace to look nervous as he suggests this.

“If they get involved I will burn up your body and build a new one of you. It’s been done before. Maybe the next one will actually be able to do its fucking job. I don’t want to hear any more excuses take care of it.”

The clone just stares at me for a moment and then nods, “And if Mulder and Scully are involved?”

“Kill them.” I say and swallow the faint nausea that bubbles up.

“I doubt it will be that easy.” He looks at his cigarette and rolls it in his hand, shockingly like the original.

“All I hear are more excuses.”

“And what if the children fight back?”

“Don’t kill them. You can knock them out, sedate them, or anything else to get them to come with you but don’t kill them.” I make a mental note to talk to my biological engineer about making the clones more effective.

“Who would you like me to take?”

I look around the room at the various clones that we have in constant circulation. They are the syndicate. All of them have the memories and personalities of the real men who, in their pride, decided to record their consciousness before they died. I doubt they imagined it would be used in this way. That it would be used to make them slaves rather than leaders. That they would be forced to take their orders from a woman they’d used as a pawn once upon a time.

A Grinch-like grin comes across my face as I remember their degradation and their ultimate demise.

I have to admit that I get a sick kind of pleasure in seeing these once-powerful men reduced to my lackeys.

“Take Krycek and some backup. Next time I hear from you it better be to tell me you found them or you won’t live to try again.” I warn as he nods and walks away.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Fox but I still find my heartbeats a little faster when I hear his name. I allow myself this one moment of weakness before continuing my preparation.

***

November 2011

The Eagle 24- hour Café

Washington D.C.

“Mulder it’s been two hours. No one is coming. It must have been some kind of prank.” I slump in my seat and watch Mulder crush sunflower seeds between his teeth.

“Just a little while longer Scully. They did say in the message between eight and midnight.” Mulder’s eyes are focused intensely on the building in front of us.

I sigh, “And that doesn’t seem a little odd to you?”

“Of course it does. That’s why Skinner is on call. And why I did all that fancy maneuvering to make sure we were not followed.”

“Yeah ‘fancy maneuvering’” I quoted with a sly smile.

I fiddle with the radio for a while until we see a nondescript car pull into the dark parking lot.

Both sitting up we watch as five people exit the car. Mulder puts the binoculars up to his eyes and I hear a sharp intake of breath.

“What?” He doesn’t respond so I touch his arm, “Mulder, what is it?”

“The clones of Samantha and Kurt Crawford.” He whispers.

I take the binoculars from him and look for myself. The Kurt clone opens the door for the rest of the odd little group while he glances around suspiciously.

With Kurt and Samantha are two teenage girls who seem jumpy. My eyes zero in on the girl with the red hair. There is a pang in my heart that I can’t account for when I look at her long red hair. I can’t get a look at her face as she takes hold of the other girl’s hand.

“Mulder…” I start.

“Yeah, I saw. It might be bait, Scully. I mean they are sitting there with clones…”

But I’m out the door before he can continue. Something I can’t name is pulling me forward and I can’t stop until I reach the door and make eye contact with the Samantha clone. She nods her head at me and I feel a churning in my stomach. It’s as if my instincts have taken over, there are almost no thoughts in my head.

“Scully wait…” Mulder grunts as he runs. Ignoring my instincts I wait for him.

He comes up behind me and places a hand on the small of my back while he peers at my face.

“Do you want to go in?” He asks in a low voice. I can feel the rumble in his chest and lean into him a bit.

Finally I just nod and he opens the door for me. Mulder’s hand on my back is my anchor to reality as I try to decipher the confusing thoughts in my head. The whole table looks up at us as we enter. I freeze when I see her.

She looks so different but I just know it’s her.

It’s Emily.

She blinks at me with hazel eyes. Her nose is long and straight but as a small closed lip smile crosses her face all I see is Mulder. I see him in her tall thin frame and bright eyes and it nearly kills me.

My hands fly to my mouth and Mulder stops in his tracks.

I can feel him shaking behind me as she gets up from her seat to stand before us.

“Emily?” I say ready to sink to the floor.

She nods silently and takes a step toward us but before she can I, against my better judgment, move forward and reach for her tentatively.

This older Emily pauses for a moment and I become nervous until she finally rushes into my arms.

The tears start almost right away. I picture myself before my abduction as I always have when I think of her. I picture how young I was and as always kick myself for not knowing I was pregnant, as if there was anything I could do about it.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words leave my mouth like a chant.

Soundlessly she hugs me back.

“I gave up on you. I let you go. I should have fought for you.” All of the guilt that has haunted me for sixteen years pours out.

***

What surprises me first about my mother is how small she is. I wouldn’t call myself tall but I’m on the high end of average.

But here stands, my biological mother, who is practically swallowed by the man next to her.

They both stare at me like they’ve seen a ghost. And I suppose to them I am a ghost.

When she calls me Emily I don’t bother to correct her since that’s all she knows me as.

I let her cry and hold me close and feel warm tears flow from my eyes as well. The warmth from her sinks into my bones and I feel myself slump in her arms. I nearly shake with the force of her love. We begin to sink to the floor but are caught by the man who came in with her.

When I look at him it’s my own eyes looking back at me. Kurt told me a little about them, about how hard their lives have been and I see it etched into every line of his face, as he looks at me, unbelieving.

My mother gradually lets go of me. She puts her hand to my cheek and wipes away a tear before she moves out of the way and he moves slowly, as if afraid he will spook me.

He tilts his head slightly and his eyes narrow just a bit as he takes in my face. His hands move to my shoulders and then I remember something.

The image of this exact man but so much younger making a silly face in the foster center I was staying at. It was the first time I’d laughed since my mom’s death.

I practically lunge at him and wrap my arms around his middle. He’s taken off guard but quickly pulls me close and I feel the wetness on his cheek against the top of my head.

I can hear my mother talking to Kurt but I can’t hear anything except for the heartbeat of my father.

That’s when I realize I have parents.

They are real and they are here. After years of doubting and worry here they are in the flesh.

“We can’t stay here.” Kurt’s voice breaks the spell.

I feel my father’s hand cup the back of my head as he lays a kiss on my hair before releasing me to my mother beside us who’s worry is palpable. She takes my hand in both of hers but her eyes stay on Kurt.

“Follow us.” He says and keeps looking around like he’s been doing since we left the motel.

May watches us with bright eyes. Meeting her mother at a new motel is the next item on the agenda.

“We’re not leaving her.” My mother’s voice comes out shaky.

“Take her in your car then but we need to go.”

“Where?” My father asks.

“Just follow us.”

***

We are silent on the way across the street to our SUV. I hold Emily’s hand as we cross and both Mulder and I are continually looking back and forth to make sure we are not being watched.

I get in the back of the car next to our daughter while Mulder gets behind the steering wheel. As he pulls out behind Kurt he puts his cell phone next to his ear. Emily’s fingers are long, thin, and intertwined with my own. I can still feel my heartbeat in my ears and I can’t stop looking around to look for signs of being followed.

“Hey… Yeah… Everything is fine for now. I can’t tell you what’s up yet but I’ll call you again later tonight.” Mulder says into the phone and I know he is talking to Skinner.

“Thanks again. I’ll keep you updated.”

He hangs up as Kurt makes a sharp unexpected turn, driving like a madman.

“Where have you been?” I can’t stop the question from passing my lips as I turn to look at Emily. It’s a loaded question.

Her eyes are sad; “I don’t remember anything before the age of five. I know I was in a hospital in Wisconsin. They moved me around for a few years until I was finally placed in a Catholic foster center in Chicago where I’ve been since I was ten.”

We’d been to Chicago after losing her. One time when we were on the run we spent a whole week in northern Illinois. The pain of knowing I was in the same state as her twice is too much to bear.

I hold her fingers tighter, “I’m sorry we didn’t find you.”

“Kurt said you thought I was dead.” She whispers.

I nod and glance up at Mulder who meets my eyes briefly in the rearview.

“I was lying with you when you died. I don’t… I don’t understand how this is possible. I was there when it happened. Though at your funeral we did discover that your body was missing… It was awful.” I feel the pain from that day all over again and it’s her turn to squeeze my hand.

“You don’t remember anything from before your fifth birthday?” I ask after a beat.

“I remember little things. Snapshots of my life but nothing that really makes sense of things. Recently things have become a little clearer.” She looks down at our hands, “Kurt told me all about how you both found me. Told me I was living with adoptive parents until they were killed.” She looks up at my face with wet eyes, “He said you were trying to adopt me.”

I nod, “I didn’t know you existed until then, Emily I’m so sorry.”

She gives me a small awkward smile, “They renamed me. April Meeks.”

I take in this information and roll the name over in my head. It’s almost more appropriate that she isn’t going by her old name.

April seems appropriate too. It’s a month full of hope and sadness. April means spring is coming. Looking at my own April I pray that our own spring is coming.

I put a hand to her cheek, “April.”

She covers my hand with her own.

#txf #the x files #txf fanfiction #x files fanfiction #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #the invisible cord #clarices fic

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just-lost-inbetween-worlds · 5 years

Text

Blood Spots - Spot Conlon x Reader - pt.2

(Sung in counterpoint)

"Just give me half a cup," Race pleads.

"Something to wake me up."

"I gotta find an angle," says Mush.

"I gotta sell more papes."

I see various newsies going up and receiving a small chunk of bread from the nuns. I make my way over to the trolley wagon looking for something to satisfy my aching hunger. As I do so, many of the ragged newsboys take off their hats and step aside to let me pass, a couple even muttering a few things like 'ladies first'. I bow my head to show my appreciation.

I know most people find the newsies loud and obnoxious, but as I have just now seen before my very eyes, and just as I have always believed them to be, they are truly chivalrous gentlemen, even though they might not look like it with their ragged clothes and covered in dirt. It's odd, although not surprising, that it is the young uneducated working boys, that are the ones who are the most kind and gentlemen like, and not the men in suits and the schoolboys in their uniforms and dress shoes.

Just then I got an idea of what I would be able to do to make a living for myself. There are a few newsgirls, although not many because it meant giving up their freedom, because of the ways of the only newsgirls lodging house in new york. But for many of the orphan girls and runaways my age, their only means of making money is prostitution.

No. I will not stoop down that low, I can't, especially not now, not after what happened. That's the one thing she always told me, never end up like her, no matter what the circumstances, I was worth more than that. I can't go against the only thing she ever asked of me.

I'm also pretty sure that there is a newsgirl lodging house around here somewhere that I could spend my nights in so I don't have to sleep on the streets.

Various of the other newsies comment as well,

"Papers is all I got

Wish I could catch a breeze

Sure hope the headline's hot

All I can catch is fleas

God help me if it's not

Somebody help me, please.."

(End counterpoint)

I trail behind the boys, a good amount of distance between us, in hopes that they will lead me to where the papes are. I look down at my last two bits in my hand. This is all the money I have left, hopefully I can sell some papes and make a bit so I won't starve on the streets.

If I hate the headline, I'll make up the headline

And I'll say anything I hafta

'Cause it's two for a penny, if I take too many

Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta," all the newsies chant an explanation their daily life story in unison.

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. "Look! They're putting up the headline

They call that a headline?

I get better stories from the copper on the beat, some of the newsies complain

I was gunna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty

Tell me, how'm I gonna make ends meet?"

2. "What's it say?

That won't pay!

So where's your spot?

God, it's hot!

Will ya tell me how'm I gonna make ends meet?" Complains the other half of the newsies.

(End counterpoint)

All the newsies chant, "We need a good assassination!" "We need an earthquake or a war!"

Snipeshooter offers his input, "How 'bout a crooked politician?"

"Hey, stupid, that ain't news no more!" All of the rest of the newsies yell at him in unison, while some chuck their hats at him. He guards his face and hides behind the pole protecting himself with his arms.

"Uptown to Grand Central Station

Down to City Hall

We improves our circulation

Walkin' til we fall!"

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. "Still we'll be out there

Carrying the banner man to man!

Yes, we'll be out there

Soaking every sucker that we can!

See the headline

Newsies on a mission

Kill the competition

Sell the next edition

While we're out there

Carrying the banner is the..."

2. "Look, they're putting up the headline

They call that a headlin

The idiot who wrote it must be working for the Sun

Didja hear about the fire?"

3. "Heard it killed old man Maguire!"

2. "Heard the toll was ever higher"

3. "Why do I miss all the fun?"

2. "Hitched it on a Trolly"

3. "Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second"

2. "Little Italy's a secret"

3. "Bleecker's further than I reckoned"

2. "At the courthouse"

3. "Near the stables"

2. "On the corner someone beckoned and I...."

All is going well in the day so far, that is until the Delancey brothers show up.

"Dear me! What is that unpleasant aroma?" Race asks sarcastically while looking back at the group of newsies behind him, playfully slapping one of them in the chest with his hat. "I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night."

He laughs along with all the other newsboys gathered around him.

"Nah, too rotten to be the sewers," Boots snickers.

"It must be the Delancey brudders," Crunchy says mockingly in a sing-songy high-pitched voice, while he makes sassy air quotes.

Race greets them with fake cheerfulness, "Hiya boys!"

Oscar turns his head to look at snipeshooter. "In the back, you lousy little shrimp," he says and proceeds to throw the small boy to the rough gravel road.

Jack, goes to help him up; and Racetrack, warns Oscar, "It's not good to do that." "Not healthy."

"You shouldn't call people lousy little shrimps, Oscar, unless you're referring to the family resemblance in your brudda here," Jack taunts the two boys with his insult while getting up in their face in an intimidating manner. The boys 'oohh' at the brothers.

"5-1 that Cowboys skunks 'em. Who's betting?" Race asks.

Jack goes back to taunting the two Delancey brothers who are every newsies tormentor.

"That's right. It's an insult, So's this." Jack said, as he knocks the hat Morris was wearing off his head and makes a break for it. Soon after, the two chase after Jack all around the square. I follow after him waiting to see how this unfolds. Not looking where is was going I bump into a boy around my age, maybe a little older, and his cute younger brother. They had seemed to be watching the scene unfold as well, so I stand and watch with them for a while. That is until the newsie who had outsmarted the Delanceys bumps into the boys just as I had a moment ago.

"What do you think you're doing?" The older boy asks, confused, shocked, and almost seemingly a bit annoyed.

The newsie goes back to continue on his hike, but not before he turns his head, laughs and replies to the boy with a smile, " Runnin'!"

The two Delancey brothers run into me and him as they are trying to get to Jack. They kinda dance around a bit trying to get around us, one of them bumps the older boys shoulder pretty harshly and the other delancey had shoved me out of the way so he could get to him, and in doing so he ended up pushing me to the ground.

The older brother offers me his hand to help me up and asks, "You alright miss?"

"Um yes, thank you."

He smiles at me softly, and I smile back at him in appreciation.

"I'm David, and this is my younger brother Les." He says and pulls the distracted boy in front of him in an introduction like matter.

"Y/n, Pleased to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you as well."

ALL NEWSIES: (Sung in counterpoint)

The newsies resume their chanting,

1."It's a fine life

Carrying the banner through it all

A mighty fine life

Carrying the banner tough and tall

See the headline

Newsies on a mission

Kill the competition

Sell the next edition

What a fine life

Carrying the banner!"

2. "Would you look at the headline

You call that a headline?

I get better stories from the copper on the beat

I was gonna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty

Would you tell me how'm I ever gonna make ends meet

Hitched it on a Trolly

Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second

Little Italy's a secret

Bleecker's further than I reckoned

By the courthouse, near the stables

On the corner someone beckoned!

Go get 'em Cowboy!

You've got 'em now boy!"

(End counterpoint)

All of the newsies shout, "Go!"

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years

Text

Deadlines Alt End 1

Masterlist

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Deadlines Alternative End 1: Hideyoshi His POV

It was around the time Mitsunari excused himself for the third time to go and find some other source for his ravenous researching that I noticed that the girl was no longer in the restricted access section. Where did she go? It hadn’t been that long since I looked over was it? I put down my own book and decided to stretch my legs. It was a mystery to me how Mitsunari did it. Prolonged periods of time sitting in one position played havoc with my circulation and I found I had to keep moving around to avoid painful leg cramps.

I moved away from the table and walked around the room a little. That was when I saw her. She was sitting by the window surrounded by papers, a few different pens and highlighters near her right hand on the tabletop as she scribbled line after line of text. I did think it before a little when I saw her blushing, talking to Mitsunari and me but she is quite pretty.

I don’t know how long I stood there watching her. The light of the sun catching her hair that tumbled over her shoulder where it had fallen loose from her messy bun. I was entranced by the look on her face. She was deep in concentration but she had the most adorable look on her face every time she tried to work out something. Her expression changed and she got a little crease on her brow and bit her bottom lip while she processed the next step. I guess I was staring too long because she noticed me.

“Did you want something?” She asked politely but I had seen that look on her face before. The frustration, the tiredness… every time I had looked in a mirror during my second year.

Ever since I had received my scholarship to the university I had been so desperate to prove myself and my worth that it took Nobunaga and Masamune to drag me out of the study halls to force me to sleep. I understood that sometimes what drove you to keep pushing your limits was sometimes more than just achieving a good grade. It was the feeling of value and being valued. But as much as I understood that I still could not avoid feeling the need to try to help when I saw someone struggling. Or my own desire to see someone relax more instead of working themselves closer to the edge of their limits.

“No sorry I was just wondering if there was anything I could do for you.” I schooled my face. I probably failed to mask 100% of my concern because she looked a little like she felt guilty for causing concern. She’s sort of even cuter when she looks troubled.

“I’m not sure there is anything that can be done, to be honest. I mean all the work has to be in my own handwriting and my own words except for the direct quote stuff.” She shrugged giving me a sweet lopsided smile.

“I see your problem. But you have been hitting the books solid since you got here I’m a little worried you might be pushing yourself.” Man, Hideyoshi even you think this sounds like your just meddling.

“HAHA, you sound like my Mum.” Her laugh was musical. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled broadly. Her Mum?

“I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business I… I should leave you to get back to it.” I was feeling a little embarrassed. Truth be told it wasn’t the first time I had been told that I reminded someone of their mother. It always made me feel a little ticklish.

“Erm Hideyoshi?” I heard her hesitant voice behind me as I turned to leave and stopped in my tracks to look at her again.“Thank you. It’s really sweet of you to care so much.” She smiled and I lost myself for a moment. Showing a guy a face like that. What are you even thinking? Reaching out my hand to her I put it on her head. I felt her tense up but she relaxed almost immediately afterwards.

“No problem. Just take it easy ok?” I gave her one of my best smiles I could, trying to ignore how much she made me feel. It’s strange I hardly know her in fact, I only met her today and yet I can’t seem to leave her alone.

I went back to check on Mitsunari who was already submerged back in his own little world. He always did that. Give the guy a book he just zoned out and nothing could break his concentration. That was how my afternoon passed. Quitely, peacefully, the sounds of pages turning and pen scratching across paper. Observing two people, one dear friend and one curious girl who appeared out of nowhere but managed to capture my attention and concern all the same.

---

It was the day after most of the exams for the end of the year had happened. We all had gone out to play a game of basketball at the local park. Masa had practically been bouncing off the walls in the dorm and Yasu was talking about putting tranquillizers in the food to try to calm him down. In the interest of keeping the peace and getting some fresh air, we all agreed a game was in order.

“What is with you man seriously?” Masa threw the ball hard at my chest and I let a small grunt sound out as I barely caught it.

“I don’t know what you mean.” It was true my mind had been elsewhere. I couldn't get the girl from the library out of my head. Since then I had seen her on campus looking tired and it had worried me. I really wish I could have done something even then to help her.

“Oh come on. You don’t have your head in the game at all. What is it? A girl?” Masa had his moments of being very observant and also very blunt. Clearly, this was one of those moments.

“There’s a girl?” Mitsunari asked innocently as he looked around. This got a chuckle from most of us and an eye roll from the resident expert in sarcasm.

“There’s always a girl when he is involved.” Ieyasu sighed and raked his hand through his blonde hair. “It’s so apparent its no wonder Captin Obvious over there noticed it.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? Masa gave Ieyasu a little playful shove as he laughed trying to pull him into a headlock.

“Hey, now that’s enough.” Nobu laughed whilst he cast his usual spell over the guys causing them all to regain some composure and settle down. How does he do that?

“Thank you.” I said relieved. I know it was a common problem that everywhere I went on campus I seemed to have a crowd at some point hindering my movements. But the way they talk about it, I shudder to think what others must think of me.

“Yeah Nobu’s right you shouldn’t just assume it’s a girl.” Mitsuhide spoke up from the sidelines as he came closer. As a group, we had all been together since High school. Mitsuhide had his moments of being nice. He isn’t always so bad sometimes he is a really supportive friend. “It could just as easily be a guy. I hear the guys on the track team have their own little fan club developing for our dear sweet little Yoshi.” Mitsuhide reached out to pinch my cheek and I quickly ducked and knocked his hand away. Or not… what a jerk!

---

Our game continued until it started to get late. Masa said he wanted to cook in the dorm kitchen for us all but then got a call about a party. So he changed his mind and decided that he wanted to go crash it. Nobu and Mitsuhide were both on board with that plan. Yasu mumbled something about going to make sure Masa didn’t attempt to dive from someone's balcony like an idiot again. Mitsunari had a tutoring job so he made his excuses and left.

As much as I would have liked to go and keep an eye on them all, I also was not feeling up to it at all. And that was why I was now downtown about to go into a McDonalds to grab some fast food. If Masa saw me now he’d probably kill me. But food is food and I can’t be bothered with cooking right now. I grabbed my order of chicken nuggets and fries, small cup coffee and sat down at a table. It was sort of busy in here tonight. I guess most of the students had the same idea for dinner.

“...Thank you.” The polite soft voice of a familiar female managed to find my ear over the general buzz of human activity around me. Looking up I saw her, the girl from the library… [Name].

“[Name]” I called out to her as she was looking around for somewhere to sit. I have no idea why I just did that. I suppose it was to ensure she didn’t get in a situation where she was hit on by some creep because she was alone. “Care to join me?” Wait that didn’t make me sound like one of the creeps did it?

While I wondered about how I appeared she smiled gratefully at me as she took a seat opposite me then laughed. “Oh my gosh, we have the same meal.” I looked and she was right. Nuggets, fries and coffee. It made me smile to think we were eating the same food. Like a couple… wait what? I laughed along with her and we passed the time with some small talk. I found out she was looking into work at a museum over the holidays. It was just in the gift shop but she really wanted to learn about preserving the paintings. She’s so genuine and so bright.

The more we spoke the more I found myself lost in her eyes. I liked the way she played with the fries between her fingers as she told a story. How she licked the salt and ketchup from her lip after taking a bite. It was nice hanging out with someone that wasn’t poking fun at me as one of the guys or one of those girls that seemed to turn up out of nowhere in pack formation. Yes, this is something I could get used to. I wonder what she would say if I asked her out?

---

On the way back from the party Mitsuhide was the first of the trio to notice the curious pair sitting in the local fast food joint. He smiled as he nudged Nobu on his shoulder and pointed out the couple.

“Well well, it appears that when Yoshi says he isn’t up for partying what he meant was we aren’t his type.” Mitsuhide joked and Nobu just laughed.

“Hey what’s the big deal I thought we were going to hit that Italian place on the way back?” Masa who had been walking slightly ahead of them came back and then followed their gaze to see what was holding them up. “Oh Yoshi is never going to hear the end of this one.” He said with a smile that threatened to split his face in two.

---

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