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gardenofnoah · 1 year

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part one: you’ve been running behind, i’m afraid you’re too late

wc: 5.7K chapter tags: MDNI, dark content (domestic abuse/physical abuse within a romantic relationship (not between reader and shinsou), general violence, nonconsensual quirk use??, graphic descriptions of injuries), ptsd, healing and forgiveness, undefined relationship between reader and shinsou, gn reader (no pronouns), pet names (“angel”, “baby”), probably inaccurate description of shinsou’s quirk idk

Kyoji was good to you. He was older, he was handsome–he exuded a confidence that you’d not yet been privy to. He spoiled you, really–with gifts and dinners and glimpses into a lifestyle that your young naivety latched onto–you liked him for that. You were taken by his charm, and how he always knew exactly what to say.

The very things you adored seemed to turn to sharpened weapons that nicked at your skin. But he was careful not to draw blood until he knew he had you.

You’d met at UA, you in your second year and he in his last. You were inseparable from the start–you hung off his arm like a little trophy he could carry around. What he’d ever done to earn that, you’ve no idea now.

Hitoshi had been weary of him from the start.

“I don’t know, angel,” he told you, sprawled across your extra long twin bed while you did your hair in the little mirror that sat on your desk. “He seems a little…” pausing between words, treading carefully, “off.”

You’d gotten angry with him at that. You told him that he just didn’t like that you were happy and not hanging out with him–that he was only jealous that he couldn’t follow you like a lost puppy anymore. Your words had very clearly wounded him, but he recovered before you could think too much of it–the hurt bleeding back into his practiced indifference.

“Just be careful, okay?” he asked quietly as you all but tossed him out of your dorm. “Call me if you need anything.”

You’d brushed it off, along with everyone else's thinly-veiled warnings, and continued to see Kyoji. Things were going well enough–he graduated and took you with him. There might have been something foreboding about it, but it was fleeting and you didn’t put up a fight–didn’t dig your heels in at all as he was picking up the boxes made up of everything you were before him and loading them into the back of his car. You completed your last year at UA from the bedroom of the apartment you were suddenly sharing–all tall ceilings and chrome appliances. All for show, sparking and without a sign of life–just how Kyoji pictured it. There wasn’t a sign of you anywhere–all of your boxes had ended up in a storage unit not far from UA. They hadn’t even made it the whole drive to the apartment–it hadn’t taken long at all for him to convince you that he could buy you things that were far nicer than what you had in them.

You still saw Hitoshi, but your interactions were rare. If he caught wind that you were on campus for any reason, he’d seek you out–joyfully ignoring the cold shoulder you usually tried to give him. He’d loop an arm around your neck, laughing at the way you bristled at his touch. You pretended not to notice how forced it was–how he raked his eyes over you, searching for something you didn’t want him to see. Both of you caught in a bizarre performance of make believe in front of your other friends, who all regarded you with the same, thinly-veiled apprehension. Scanning for something that wasn’t yet there, but that surely would be. All of you a group of dangling marionettes, creaking clumsily toward the final act.

Kyoji didn’t like Hitoshi. He’d made that clear from the beginning. He thought that your relationship with the purple-haired hero was strange, going so far as to tell you that Hitoshi was “toxic”– someone who was “isolating you from the people who cared for you”. The fact that Hitoshi behaved like he did–mostly aloof, eager to wound with his quick tongue–made it an easy sell, despite him only ever regarding you with a gentle fondness. Kyoji stressed that he was only worried, because clearly Hitoshi had manipulated you into some semblance of friendship with him–one that was surely only transactional to him. It had always been clear, to Kyoji–who was wiser and older and only ever wanted the best for you–so you let him steer you away from Hitoshi. You closed your eyes when he turned you away from your other friends, too–letting him take the wheel. He knew better than you did, you were sure.

Now you know it was bullshit, but you were in love, supposedly–you believed him because you had no reason to doubt him. And he loved you–he told you so, in all of his elaborate, and often very public, displays of affection. Each overblown effort made you uncomfortable, but he’d gone through so much trouble–and made sure you were aware of it. So you let him love you like that, even if it left you feeling a little hollow.

You scoff at the memory, now. Curled up in the corner, locked in your bedroom. Bruised and weak, you reach for your phone on the floor next to you. You scroll until you find his name.

He watches your face pop up on his phone on the coffee table. Half asleep, he reaches to pause the movie he’d been watching, and presses the green button by your name.

“Hi, angel.” he murmurs through a yawn.

“Hitoshi,” you croak, and he’s upright immediately. By your tone, he knows you’re not safe. He curses himself for not catching this sooner–he should have known that things had gotten worse when you stopped answering his texts a few weeks ago. He’d given you space, hoping that time show you what kind of person Kyoji really was, but it’s apparent now that it only served to isolate you further. He’s made up his mind, though–the gears in his brain slip into place automatically, and he won’t let himself feel remorse over what he’s about to do–not yet, anyway. He’ll ask his questions–give you the chance to lie to him, like he knows you will–but he’s already decided. He hopes that you won’t hate him for it.

“What’s going on?”

“Just–” a sharp intake of breath, like it hurts you, “so tired. I’m so tired of this.”

He takes a breath himself–deep and rattling in his chest, pleading with himself to keep a level head. He needs to, or he won’t be able to do this. He just needs to get you out–to get you somewhere safe. He squeezes his eyes shut, and pictures your reality–alone, hurt, and curled into yourself. He feels his pulse pick up, and tries to think of something else.

Questions be damned. He needs to do this now.

He says a quick, silent prayer to whomever is listening. To please let this work. To make you understand–to maybe forgive him, one day.

He steadies himself, and opens his eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

“Um–no, I don’t know, I–”

He’s flooded with pain, all at once. Sharp and radiating, in his eye and over his rib cage, and across his throat in a way that feels suspiciously like–

You were hurt, then.

He’s overwhelmed by the full range of your emotions, too, as intimately as if they were his–shock, at first. He jolts as you startle, like the lights have just flickered out during a heavy storm. He feels the moment the recognition hits you–when you realize what he’s done–and he feels it when you start to fight it.

“Please stop,” it’s a whispered plea that comes from him, into the receiver he keeps up to your ear. He hears your breath hitch.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he says, and he’s moving now–already down the front steps and out the door.

It’s effort, like this–he wasn’t sure if he would even be able to use his quirk over the phone. He’d asked Aizawa about it, who eyed him for a long time before he’d answered simply, “You should really think about it.”

And he has, but he sees no other option. Hitoshi knows, very acutely, that he is hurting you– that he’s not doing a good thing right now. The thought of it turns in his stomach, but he can’t stop. Not until he knows you’re safe.

He envisions your body in his mind. It’s fuzzy, at best–the outline of you is warbled and distorted, but he can do this.

“We’re gonna move now, baby,” he rasps, suddenly fatigued by the exertion of keeping himself moving and keeping you in his grasp. Like a villain, he thinks, and promptly ignores.

He starts to move you and the feeling is nearly blinding–you’re in pain. His own rib cage seizes and it knocks the breath out of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he tries to placate you, even though he knows it’s shallow, “We just need to get you standing. Can you do that for me?”

It’s stupid of him to try to ask anything of you right now, and he hears you echo the sentiment–you’re still fighting him, though not as valiantly as before. He can feel how exhausted you are, and it’s not your injuries that make his chest ache now.

He hurries past a gas station and realizes he’s closer to you than he thought. He hadn’t been paying attention, not really–hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself with more than his black hoodie pulled over his head. He hears voices to his right and realizes that he really didn’t think this through–that he could easily be caught off guard right now, with all of his focus on you. Driving wasn’t an option, though–it was dangerous enough just for him to try to walk and do this.

He catches himself trying to create distance in his mind. To call it this, instead of naming it. Because if he allows himself to recognize what he’s really doing to you, he won’t be able to keep you under his quirk, and he just needs to get you out–

He feels a bump to both knees, and he realizes that he’s gotten you up and moving. He sees the vague outline of your bedroom window, and thanks whatever god is up there that you live on the first floor. Now that he’s closer to you, your body is more in focus. He can manage like this.

He comes to a stop at a street corner, less than a block from your house. He takes a breath in, and focuses again.

“Okay angel,” he says, keeping his voice soft, “we need to get this open. I’m going to be gentle, but it’s still going to hurt.”

It does–immediately. Having to lift the window with one arm to keep the phone to your ear–the only way to keep up the connection–is putting too much strain on the fractures of your ribs. He feels you thrash in his mind, and he almost wishes he could hear your voice, just so you could scream at him. He wishes he could at least give you that.

All at once the pain is cut off and bleeds into something different. Panic, he recognizes. Hitoshi feels the adrenaline spike in your body and realizes he’s run out of time.

He needs to get you out now.

He takes off in a sprint toward the direction of your apartment. His hold on you falters, only for a second, but it makes you stumble. He feels his own fear spike.

“I’m coming,” he tells you, and it comes out like a plea, “I’m right there baby, just hold on–”

He hears the yelling as he rounds the corner. He sees you then, half way out the window, and he knows if he lets go of you now, you won’t make it out.

He feels a bruising pain wrap around his wrist, and he goes cold.

Hitoshi makes it to the window before he knows it and lets you go. He wraps his arms around your middle as you go limp, and when he looks up, he is face to face with the man who did this to you.

Kyoji, who is still crushing your wrist in his hand.

“What the fuck,” Hitoshi grinds out, and it is lethal when it leaves him, “are you doing?”

“What am I do–”

He doesn’t give Kyoji any time to give a real answer before he’s in his head. The fatigue is stifling, but his adrenaline fuels his quirk. The grip on your wrist falls slack. He pulls you the rest of the way out of the window, careful not to aggravate your ribs further. You whimper, not yet fully conscious, as he sets you down gently in the grass.

“Give me one second, angel,” he tells your limp form, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

He takes a step forward, as does Kyoji–rigid and clearly unwilling, but he moves despite himself, because he’s no longer in control. Through the window, Histoshi takes a long look at him, and feels nothing but contempt. He lets it bleed into the connection between them–feels only a white, hot anger coming from the man in his hold, and it makes him smile.

“You won’t make that mistake again.”

He watches from outside himself, then, as he leads Kyoji’s hands through the open window. Hitoshi feels nothing as he slams it down over his fingers. He lets the bastard go right as it connects.

Hitoshi hears the crunch of splintering bone, and only watches as his victim comes back to himself. Feels nothing as he watches him process what has just happened. And then, as a howl of pain breeches the silence, a sick part of him howls back—feeling more than a little justified.

He watches for a second more, and then turns his attention back to you. Still limp in the grass–whether you’re still unconscious or you’re pretending to be, he isn’t sure, but he couldn’t blame you if it was the latter. Hitoshi gathers you in his arms, and you don’t fight him. He wonders if you have any fight left.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing his cheek against your temple in some vain attempt at comfort as he walks, “I’m so sorry.”

Hitoshi is a nervous wreck.

He fumbles through his own kitchen like he’s never been in it before. He opens cabinets, closes them, and opens them again. He’s opened the fridge at least three times in the last five minutes, like something will be different each time he opens it.

He has no idea what to do with himself.

He comes to a stop, finally, in front of the counter and braces his hands against the cool stone. He lets his head hang and takes in a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. The only thing he can focus on is the knowledge that you are asleep in the next room.

He’d brought you in and set you on his bed, checking to make sure none of your injuries were life threatening. When he was satisfied that they were not, he turned on his heel and all but sprinted out of his room, closing the door as softly as he could behind him. Sleep wasn’t an option for him after that.

“Fuck,” he breathes, knuckles straining in their grip on the countertop. He was nothing if not cowardly.

He nearly comes out of his skin when his phone rings next to him. He spares it a glance, and feels his stomach lurch when he sees who it is. He hits the green button, and it’s not a second after that the voice on the other end lays into him.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” Bakugou seethes, “what did you do?”

Hitoshi has never experienced Bakugou as quiet as he is right now. The silence on the other end of the line stretches and expands like a living thing–it’s suffocating, but he allows it to drag on. He won’t be the one to break it.

He hears Bakugou sigh and lets out a breath of his own.

“The injuries–” he says finally, sounding tired in a way that Hitoshi hasn’t heard in a long time, “are they–”

“Not life threatening,” he grits, hearing the strain in his own voice, “I can take care of them here. But Bakugou–”

“I get it,” Bakugou cuts him off, gruff. For the first time in Hitoshi’s life, the constant of his harsh inflection is a comfort. “Was fuckin’ stupid, and you’re real lucky I was the one to respond. But I get it.”

Hitoshi says nothing. He can’t say anything. Bakugou sighs again, long and resigned.

“I’ll handle it,” he says finally, and Hitoshi can barely breathe, “Just take care of your shit.”

“I will,” he whispers, but Bakugou has already hung up.

He stares at the phone in his hand then, like it might come alive at any second. Now that he knows what he can do with it, he thinks he ought to throw it down and crush it under his heel.

His mind goes back to where it always does–to you. He knows that it’s a vile thing he’s done, and he doesn’t know how he’ll face you now. He just couldn’t stand the way your voice cracked every time you called–he isn’t too proud to admit that he was afraid. He’s responded to so many of these calls, and he knew of the few that heroes didn’t make it there in time–he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you like that. He couldn’t sit and wait for that to happen–that was never an option.

He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to resign himself to what's coming when you wake up. Tries to tell himself that it will still be worth it if you hate him–and he knows that it is, because you’ll be alive. But he will be another man that you can no longer trust, and as much as he deserves that, he can’t stand it.

He swallows thickly, setting the phone down and pushing off the counter. He supposes he could at least make himself useful and get some food ready for you while you slept.

You don’t know how long you’ve been awake, but it feels like far too long.

Every jagged intake of breath rattles an ache through your rib cage. It shouldn’t feel like that, you think, but the thought fizzles out of your mind with the rest of them. It’s enough effort to force your lungs to inflate. You reach out a hand, slowly, ignoring the pain that radiates up your arm when you close your fingers around the sheets beneath you. They’re soft, and they’re not yours. But you knew that.

You don’t have the luxury of survivor’s amnesia. You remember everything.

You won’t cry. You wish you could, and you think it’d do you well–but to cry requires energy that you just don’t have. So you blink your eyes open through the sting, watching the fuzzy outline of the ceiling fan come into focus. It whirls around lazily, and it seems silly that it’s not doing much of any cooling, but you think that maybe Hitoshi couldn’t stand for things to be still when he put you there, so he turned it on.

Hitoshi.

You suck in a breath, gritting your teeth at the flash of pain. You feel it everywhere, and you are catapulted back into the feeling of your limbs moving against your will. It makes you want to curl into yourself, but you have a feeling you’d risk puncturing a lung if you did, so you lay there and let the feeling wash over you, pinning you to the bed.

You might be angry at him–you can’t be sure. You feel what could be anger, broadly, but you have a feeling that it’s true target is beyond Hitoshi, beyond Kyoji, beyond the way you’ve been rendered immobile more times than you care to count. You can’t reach it yet, but it is certainly there.

You know that your injuries are severe, but that they will heal. The physical ones, anyway. You don’t know how to go about healing what lurks beneath the surface–what’s been circling in the dark for years now. You’d reached a point about a month ago, when the verbal abuse became physical–a new place, one without much feeling at all–that had startled you at first. But you found it was better when you allowed yourself to lean into it–the physical pain from a throttled neck or a broken bone paled in comparison to the vast emptiness of the quiet void you could escape into. But the feelings come back, as you lay here, and you yearn for the dark nothing again. You know suddenly that it’s not the broken ribs keeping you here in this bed.

Despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to stop, you push yourself to a sitting position. It takes a while, and you have to twist like one of those wooden snake toys you had as a child. You feel your bones clink off one another similarly, and you breathe out something that sounds to you like a laugh. It’s ridiculous, the whole thing–to be reduced to something so fractured and still feel the need to stand up and keep going. It’s hard for you to see the merit in that right now, but you do it anyway.

Hitoshi nearly comes out of his skin for the second time that day when he sees you standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

He looks at you and he knows he should stop, because he’s not in control of his face right now and he wants to be composed for you. But he is not, and he knows you can see it.

He can’t look away. There’s a bruise that spans from your cheekbone to your eyebrow that he’s fixated on, which feels like the safest place to look right now because he knows if he looks at the one across your throat, he will lose out to the animal growling in his chest. Knows he will walk out the door and not stop at Kyoji’s broken fingers.

He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. When he looks at you again, he can’t tell what you're feeling. You are more devoid of emotion than he’s ever seen you, and it scares him. He opens his mouth, because the tension is crushing him.

“I–”

“Overstepped.”

He blinks, unsure if he’s just hallucinated. It isn’t until he watches your mouth move around the words that he’s sure he didn’t.

“You overstepped,” you say again, flatly.

“I know,” and he does. He thinks that’s an understatement. “I’m sorry.”

He watches the corner of your lip curl into something he doesn’t recognize.

“You’re sorry.” You repeat him like you’ve never heard the words before. “What is it that you’re sorry for?”

“I know that I shouldn’t have used my quirk on you,” he says, too quickly, “I just knew that he hurt you and I was–”

“You were what?” the tone of your voice is a warning when you cut him off, “hoping to be the hero that saves the day? You were inside me–did you think that wouldn’t hurt me?”

“No–I know it did,” he hears the plea in his voice and hates it. He knows he has no right to ask you to hear him. Really, he shouldn’t say anything, but he keeps talking anyway. “I know it did, and I’m sorry, I just knew you needed help–”

You cut him off with a bitter laugh, and then a hiss, hands hovering over your abdomen like you’re trying to wave away the pain. He feels it in his own body, quirk or not.

“I never asked for your help, Hitoshi.”

He’s quiet then, feeling the phantom ache spread to his limbs. He knows you didn’t–it’s not often that abuse survivors do. It didn’t matter how close you were to him–you were out on that island alone, all the same.

“Would you have ever?”

You glare at him. You open your mouth and close it just as quickly–he hears your teeth clack together like you’re biting down on what you really want to say. He watches you think about it.

“No.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. He knew the answer, but it’s not any less jarring to hear you say it.

“I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” he whispers, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

You let out a laugh–clipped and indignant. A knife, thrown right at him.

“You didn’t have a choice?” you snarl, and he wants to grab his words out of the air and swallow them, but he knows he’s too late. “You took over my body and you want to talk about choice?”

He can’t say anything. He watches the emotion flood you and knows it’s his doing.

“Jesus Christ,” you laugh, “did you ever consider asking me what I needed, before you did that? Or did you think that being a hero meant you knew better?”

It’s startling, how on the mark you are. The shame lumbers over him like a tidal wave– he’s never asked anyone what they needed, not really. He just acted. He was always just acting, never thinking first. Until now, the former made him a great hero.

“What I really need is for everyone to get their fucking hands off of me and to let me have the control that I deserve to have over my life.”

He can’t look at you, and he knows for that he is a coward. He knows that he has done something so unforgivable and he hates the way he wants to get on the ground and beg for your forgiveness anyway. He knows this is the part where you walk out of his house and never speak to him again. He considers telling you that he’ll call someone to come get you so you don’t have to stay here.

And that thought gives him pause, because there he goes again–deciding what’s best for you.

He wants to stop doing that. He’s been looking at you as a statistic, and that alone breaks his heart, because you are his best friend.

You are his best friend—the love of his life—and you are hurting right now.

So he gathers all of his resolve and meets your eyes. He tries very hard not to flinch away from the anger you pin him with when he asks, “what do you want to do right now?”

Your face twists with an emotion he doesn’t recognize for an instant, and then it’s gone, and there’s that blank, unfeeling look staring back at him. You sigh, and it surprises him when he hears it tremble.

“I–there’s blood. On me.”

“Yeah,” his voice is a whisper, “do you want to shower?”

You sag against the doorframe, like someone’s let go of your strings for the first time. He smothers the urge to go to you and hold you up himself.

“I don’t think I can stand,” you rasp, eyes shut tight.

“Can I run you a bath?” he asks gently, rising to his feet.

You nod tightly, watching him as he approaches you. He stops a foot in front of you, cautious.

“Can I help you to the bathroom?”

You eye him like you think it’s a trap, and it’s a twisted knife in his chest. But he doesn’t waver—he waits. He leaves room for a no.

He bites back the relieved sigh that wants to escape him when you reach for him.

It takes a minute to figure out how to support you without hurting your ribs. You settle for looping your arm through his, and he covers it with his other hand, careful of your wrist. He gets you to the bathroom and sits you on the toilet while he turns on the faucet.

“Hitoshi.”

He almost doesn’t hear you, over the water, but the shake of your voice has him whipping around, posturing to protect–

“Don’t do that again.”

And it’s him, then, who has hurt you– who continues to hurt you. He watches the tears pool in your eyes and feels so, so sick.

“I won’t,” it’s quiet, but he hopes you understand that he means it, “not ever again.”

The water that ripples around your body is tinted pink. You wonder how long you’ll have to watch pieces of you slip down the drain until you’re whole again.

For a while you just sit–the warm water offers some small comfort if you close your eyes and pretend that this is a regular day for you. That you’re not coming apart at your seams. But the temporary lull is interrupted when the water grows cold.

“Hitoshi,” you call, quietly. You have a feeling he’s sitting just outside of the door.

“Mm?” He is.

“The water is cold.”

“Do you need help getting out?”

“No, I–” you struggle a bit, to vocalize what you need, despite so adamantly wanting that not 20 minutes ago. All of your bravado from earlier has slipped down the plumbing with the rest of you. “It’s cold.”

You think you can hear his brain go through the mental gymnastics routine you’ve tasked it with, and you try to feel a little sorry for him, but before you can get too carried away he catches up.

“Can you pull the curtain closed?”

It’s hard, and it hurts, but you manage. “It’s closed.”

You hear him come in and kneel beside the tub. You watch him reach into the water–the water that’s saturated with you–to grab the plug from the drain, and your heart kicks in your chest.

“Hitoshi, the water is all–”

“It’s okay,” he says gently, and you hear the seal break with a little bubble beneath the surface, “It’s alright.”

He lets about half of the water out before he twists the faucet. You feel the water warm up again and you sigh, trying to relax a bit. Hitoshi dips a hand into the tub, moving the warmth around.

When it’s full, he twists the faucet back and moves to stand.

“Do you—” the words taste uncertain when they leave you, “do you think you could sit here with me?”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and it makes you feel a little better. You hear him move to sit next to you–you watch his outline through the curtain. When you look down, the water is clear.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you whisper. Not quite willing to apologize, but still feeling like you should say something.

“Yes, you should have.”

You pause, and when the tears come, you let them. “I’m tired, Hi.”

He lets out a breath at the nickname and you wrap your arms around yourself, needing to feel some sort of comfort.

“I know you are, angel.”

The silence is stretched between you, but it’s permeable this time. He’s trying to extend an olive branch—you decide to let him.

“Will you help me out of here?” you ask quietly.

It takes some maneuvering to get yourself standing, and when you gather the bravery needed to draw back the curtain, Hitoshi is already holding up a towel and looking starkly away from you, the tips of his ears a little red. You’d laugh if you could, but instead you just lean into him and let him wrap the towel around you. It’s warm, and you realize he must have put it in the drier at some point during your bath. The consideration has you stepping out of the tub and further into his arms–wrapping yourself around his middle before you can think better of it. He goes rigid for only a second before you feel his arms around your shoulders, caging your head in and pulling you closer. It’s startling how familiar it feels–how safe it feels, despite what he’s done–and you don’t fight the sob that tears through your throat when he presses his cheek to your temple and runs his fingers through the damp tangles of your hair.

He sways gently, rocking you like he’s consoling an infant. You don’t have it in you to be anything but comforted by it. You let out a broken whimper of his name through your tears.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs as you gather the material of his shirt in your fists, “I know.”

Before either of you know it, weeks have passed. You haven’t mentioned leaving and Hitoshi wouldn’t dream of asking you to go, so you stay. He takes every day as an opportunity to gain your trust.

It’s a fickle thing–he notices every time you flinch away from him when he accidentally brushes against you. He notices how far you sit from him on the couch, and how quiet you’ve been. It hurts tremendously, but he knows it is his fault. He’ll give you all of the time and space you need.

He cooks for you–both because he’s not sure how else to care for you right now, and because he just likes to know that you’re being looked after. He remembers how often he’d call in the middle of your “dinner”–something frozen and microwaved because Kyoji hadn’t bothered to follow through on the plans you’d made and you were left alone. Hitoshi thinks this is the best way he can help you heal–to make sure your body gets all of the vitamins it needs. It’s a small thing, really, but he hopes it means something.

He sees you out of the corner of his eye–leaning against the doorway, watching him. He smiles softly at you before he continues slicing the vegetables he’s picked out.

“What are you making?”

“Soup,” he tells you, sliding the cubed carrots off the edge of the knife and into the broth that boils beneath it, “seemed like a good day for it.”

He hears you hum, a sweet little affirmative that makes him smile again. He pulls a potato from the vegetables in front of him and turns it over a few times in his hands–checking for blemishes and wondering if he should cut it differently than the carrots, to give it some variety–if you’d appreciate the extra effort.

He startles when he feels pressure between his shoulder blades–goes rigid when he realizes it’s your forehead pressed against him.

“Angel?” he croaks, cautious.

“I’m trying, Hi.”

He lets out a breath, setting the knife down in front of him. “I know you are.”

“I just,” you start, pressing a little harder into him to emphasize your frustration, “I don’t want you to think that I’m punishing you–”

“Hey,” he calls to you softly, trying to interrupt whatever self deprecation is happening in your brain, “I don’t think that. I know that it’s going to take some time.”

You sigh, a strained thing, and when you wrap your arms around his middle, he indulges himself in the unbridled relief that comes with the knowledge that you want to forgive him. He looks down at where your hands cross over his abdomen–the bruise on your wrist is nearly faded now. A tiny yellow stain on your skin. He wants to smooth it away with his thumb, but he doesn’t–he keeps the ball in your court and his hands glued flat to the countertop.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” you pause, thinking about it, “I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of you, “you want to go find a movie to watch? The food’ll be done soon.”

You hum, untangling yourself from him to do just that. Hitoshi finds that the weight of your absence is far heavier than he expects it to be.

It’s a start. There are undoubtedly things you still need to say and questions that you need answers to. He’ll give them when you’re ready. For now, he reaches to turn up the flame on the stove, stirring the broth with new intention.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

#listen to quietly into letting go by manchester orchestra for the full effect #let me tell you something. i love exploring hurt and accountability in relationships #i just feel like i never get to see that play out in real time. especially now with the whole 'if he breathes the wrong way cut him off'#but idk i think it's important and it helps me heal my own hurts to write it out this way u know??#i just think our inherent humanity is the most precious thing about us #i hold really tightly to the thought that the connections we make are not so fragile that they can't weather a few storms!#even if those storms level our houses in the process! we can come back from that!#i’m not the worst thing i’ve ever done and neither are you!#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi x you #mha shinsou fic #shinsou hitoshi fic #mha fic #mha writing #fic: i just sat there quietly

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kholran · 4 days

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twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @lucientelrunya Thank you friend!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

297,713

3. what fandoms do you write for?

DMBJ right now, but in the past I have written for The Hobbit movies and Les Mis. I've written half a Weilan fic for Guardian but...

4. top five fics by kudos

I Will Go Now to My Pyre (DMBJ, RiSang, 262) And Here My Troubles Begin (The Hobbit, Barduil, 256) When the Stars Align (The Hobbit, Barduil, 220) I Get By (DMBJ, Gen/Liu Sang-centric, 215) Skin Deep (The Hobbit, Barduil, 205)

5. do you respond to comments?

I try to! Sometimes one or two falls through the cracks when I don't have the spoons to respond right away, but I do try and at least acknowledge them even if it's been ages.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably a little ficlet I wrote here on Tumblr and never put on AO3, in which one of the characters is revealed to have been dead the whole time. Usually I'm not about the super depressing endings though, just about everything else at least ends on a hopeful note, if not a resolved one.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think most of my RiSang fics end on a happy note, especially the one-shots and the exchange fics. Love Light, Ordinary World, ADHAU, Wild Fire, Last to Know...I think they're pretty equally happy?

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not really, but I did get one bizarre comment on a fic where the commenter presumed to predict where the plot was going and then comment on how much they didn't like when things like that happened? Except it wasn't a fully published fic yet and the actual ending was...nothing at all like they predicted.

9. do you write smut?

I sure do.

10. craziest crossover?

I don't think I've ever actually written a crossover. Crazies fusion fic was definitely Les Amis Do Titanic (In Every Age).

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so. I mostly write rarepair/pool noodle fic in a tiny fandom so...who's really going to take it?

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I used to do a lot of forum-based RP, back when invision/tapatalk/proboards forums were all the rage in the early 2000s. In terms of fic I've published on AO3, I haven't. But that's largely due to the fact that I'm the slowest writer known to man, and I'd just end up frustrating any writing partner I had with my slowness ^_^;

14. all time favorite ship?

I think Weilan (Guardian) is the ship I've read the most fic for overall. But it's definitely not my longest-term ship or anything.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Weilan Mermaid AU I started back in like...2020? I fell into the DMBJ pits before I finished it and idk if I'll ever go back to it at this point.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm good at setting scenes and writing things that people can visualize, so that, I guess?

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Oh god dialogue. I cannot write a normal conversation to save my life. What even is normal human interaction?

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Nah. I mean I'll use a word here or there, if it's something very commonly understood in the fandom (like calling Wu Erbai "Er-shu" or Zhang Rishan "fuguan" if that's how a character would address them in the show). But in terms of full sentences? I wouldn't be confident enough in my ability to write the language fluently, and even if I could, I'd just have to provide translations anyway. Far easier to say "...'said so-and-so in [language]."

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Like, EVER? I had a generic American Girl doll that I named after a Baywatch character and wrote a story for her when I was like...9? Does that count?

20. favorite fic you've written?

I'm still really proud of Ordinary World. It's not my most popular by any measure, but I put a ton of work into it and I still enjoy re-reading it sometimes. Plus I'm proud of the fact that I churned out nearly 60k words in like a month since it was for an exchange that had a deadline.

Tagging: @merinnan @eirenical @xantissa @alxina @amidalogicdive (if you want to!) and anyone else who may also want to, consider yourself tagged!

#my writing #kind of #things i'm tagged in

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demadogs · 1 year

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Hi! So I left byler tumblr after the fiasco that was volume 2 and I just kinda came back, and I see that you and everyone seem to be back on thinking byler is 100% endgame? Can you explain me what happened, and why are people still hopeful after mike's monologue?

sure! i literally just scrolled all the way down to my posts in early july to see what we were all thinking and wow it was a rollercoaster. good call just dipping out and coming back when we were back on our bullshit lmao.

so after volume two came out i think all of our initial reaction was sadness or anger but it was also a lot of confusion. i was so beyond confused at first especially when i got to the last scene and they framed all the couples and byler like that. after looking at my first posts after volume 2 i was pretty doubtful it would happen but i kept on thinking about the closet framed kiss. that was the number one thing that kept me wondering bc WHY would they do that if hes not in the closet.

about a week later was the first time i saw something that really made me think differently and it was actually from a mlvn shippers perspective. idk if this was anybody elses true “wait a damn minute” moment but for me it totally was. it was an anon sent to a byler blog from a nonbyler shipper who was rooting for mlvn (one of the respectful, normal ones) and they were basically saying they dont understand why all the bylers are so sad thinking they got queerbaited when to them, again someone who was rooting for mlvn not byler, the fact that the monologue seemed like a copy/paste of wills speech in the van only made then lose hope in mlvn bc it didnt seem sincere. that was so wild to me.

what brought us back to confidence in byler was mostly just us stepping away from the initial shock and disappointment of the monologue and remembering all the things that originally made us confident in byler endgame. i posted this towards the end of july where i just list almost everything that i held onto, not really as sources of evidence, but just genuine questions of what the hell the purpose of all of them were if not for byler endgame. most queerbaiting is just little things they could get away with but with byler the show would have genuine plotholes if they didnt go through with it. none of mike wheelers actions post s2 make sense if hes not in the closet.

i think overall it was pretty slow to get us all back to the point of 100% certainty of byler endgame tho. now i never see anyone saying they have doubts but all summer that was basically everyones posts going back and forth and i dont blame them. i used to hate the monologue and genuienly think it was a mistake but now i think with the potential of mike getting vecna’d and called out for him lying to el, especially with “friends dont lie” being such a huge part of the show, it could pay off so well. and that one anon was right, he was basically restating what will said in the van not knowing that that was wills feelings not els. now i realize its a perfect use of the miscommunication trope.

also just the fact that the tag on here grew tremendously. i think we had around 8k before volume 2 and now we have 300k. hundreds of thousands of people didnt care enough about byler to follow it on here but after volume 2 they realized something was up? thats very telling. i think a lot of people who believed in byler before volume 2 lost hope when they saw the monologue but for people who werent byler shippers, thats the scene that made them believe it was actually happening, which is pretty interesting.

but yeah i wouldnt say there was one specific thing like an interview or script that made us all confident again, it was just slowly remembering everything from previous seasons and the reassurance that one scene does not erase all of mikes questionable actions or all of their suspicious filming choices from earlier seasons.

#byler #eden answers

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savoryscribbles · 3 years

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Whoever I Want Reacting to You Wearing Revealing Clothes

A/N: Ello!!! had this idea for awhile now, so here it is! I tried to make these as long as possible, but idk I just couldn't come up with a lot for some of them, srry.

I'm also not comfortable with anyone reading this who's below the age of 16-17ish cause it's heavily suggestive.

Also, reblog please? Let's me know you all actually read/like the content I make

Genshin Masterlist | Writing Masterlist

Parings: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Gorou, Thoma, Scara, & Xiao x gn(ish)!reader

CW/Content Warnings: uses the word "chest" but in those situations they could definitely be read as like a flat chest, swearing, mentions of food in Thomas, spoilers for Sangonomiya's story quest(Gorou's), light mentions of murder(it's an off handed joke)(Scara's), general mentions of them dying because of your hotness

Tags: spicyyy, fluff, men admiring your body(consensually), shyTM boys, ur kinda a little shit in Scaras

Zhongli:

Pretends not to notice

Like you'll arrive on your date with your chest almost fully exposed and he'll still be talking about his damn Othmanthus wine

It's a different story if you point it out, simply "do you like my outfit?" Or "I wore something a little out of my comfort zone, I hope you like it?" He loves it trust me.

He will reassure you, he just didn't want to make you uncomfortable, so he tried to avoid staring as much as possible. But if you give him permission?

Oh ho ho, this man will not take his eyes off you, even if he's talking about his day, or rocks, or really whatever, he'll just be looking at you up and down.

It's not like a hungry gaze though? It's more like a deep appreciation, it's not filled with lust, it's more a 50/50, it obviously has some lust in it, but that doesn't overpower the sheer amount of love this man has for you.

Won't touch you, even if you tell him it's okay. Thinks that's something to do in private, or at least, farther away from people. Not in a tight packed restaurant.

Childe:

Hand; all over you.

Obviously they wouldn't be if you were uncomfortable. But if you are comfortable with it... there's no getting away from him(you can't escape debt). If you're eating dinner, his hand won't leave your thigh, and if you both take a stroll afterwards, instead of his hand being in yours, as it normally is, it's found wrapped snuggle around your waist, rubbing gently up and down.

If you two share a kiss, he's hands might wonder further, running up your thigh, it's definitely gonna end steamy. Who could blame him? His partner just looks so good tonight, and he's the one and only person who gets to indulge in them? Sign him up!

Will complement you endlessly "your outfit fits you perfectly love." Will mumble under his breath "remind me to contact a tailor." Wants more outfits like these, where he can see you, feel you, hold you.

Oh and if anyone tries to cat call you, their name might end up on Wangsheng's lists of customers.

Albedo:

Stares, but tries not to get caught(definitely gets caught)

To shy to say he likes your body.

Imagines his hands running all over you.

If you make your way over to him, and ask him about your outfit, he won't be as shy to admit he likes it.

Does get hella blushy tho.

"Sucrose is this what a boner feels like?"

Wants to touch you so bad, but he's afraid he might actually explode.

Will actually explode if you grab his hands to touch you.

Buttttt if you get him alone... things might be a bit different. He will definitely be smirking(like the one in the trailer) and drag his hands up and down your body. Lightly brushing over your sensitive parts(not like your private ones? Like idk the back of your neck or anywhere else that's sensitive)

Gorou:

Blushyest man out here, but I think he's naturally confident, because that's kinda something you need to be a general. So I think he's have the guts to approach you.

He stutters his way through "y-you you look v-very sexyinthatoutfit(you look very sexy in that outfit)!"

He says that then bolts, "Her Excellency had to have written a solution to this somewhere."

All in all he's just afraid to see your negative reaction, even though there isn't one.

You're gonna have to chase him down, cause he really doesn't think he can face you. It's pretty easy to catch up to him though because he didn't expect you to follow him(because let's be honest, you could not outrun this man if you tried).

He thinks your gonna yell at him D: his tail even goes between his legs and he starts apologizing.

"I'm so so so sorry for objectifying you, please forg-" "it's okay Gorou." "-ive.. me, what?" "I said it's okay Gorou, you weren't objectifying me, and thank you, for calling me sexy."

This man is beet red by now, and honestly is incapable of forming a proper sentence, so just kiss him already smfh.

Thoma:

He will literally walk up to you and say this: "Are you a hot pot, cause you are just made of snacks." Tf does that mean Thoma?

He's lucky you love his cornyness.

Overall would be a gentleman, and refrained from touching you, even if you invited him to. As much as he would love to run his hands all over you, he has a status to uphold.

Not really different when you get him alone. The only difference is he'll take you up on your offer, and will gladly run his hands up and down your back.

Scara:

Looks at you for not even a second then turns on his heals and walks out of whatever gathering you both were attending.

You follow him outside, worried if your outfit was to showy.

It's not, he's just a big baby who doesn't want strangers to see him blush. In fact, he won't even admit to you that he's blushing.

"Aw Scara, why's your face bright red?" "Shut up, I will literally kill you." "I doubt that, you look handsome yourself by the way." Stop please, this man will literally combust, I am not joking.

"You're going to pay for this." "You promise?" There's no way in hell either of you are going back to the party.

Xiao:

Are you trying to cause this mans premature death?

This 2000+ y/o adeptus is not prepared to handle you and all your glory. Please don't be surprised if he just evaporates.

You feel like you did something wrong so you try calling for him, "Xiao? Xiao I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He feels kind of guilty because you didn't do anything wrong, you just look, so. damn. hot.

"Hmph, you didn't do anything. You just, look really good." He responds as he reforms on the balcony. And your shocked tbh, you thought he actually left.

He's still not convinced of you tell him it's alright if he looks at you, can't help the guilt build up. But honestly, you just have to reciprocate the same energy, if you look at him as much as he looks at you, he won't feel guilty, just flustered.

#genshin #scaramouche #fluff #Genshin fluff #Genshin impact #tw body description #tw food #rainbowwritings #genshin impact #genshin thoma #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #Genshin x reader #Xiao x reader #Scara x reader #scaramouche fluff #albedo x reader #albedo #albedo fluff

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chrisevansmaid · 3 years

Text

Virginal

Summary: You go to a beach town in search of losing your virginity. The server at dinner is extra cute but it's also young Chris evans.

*this pic is from chris’s twitter*

MUST BE 18+!!!!

I see everyone saying this, so 18+ pleaseeeee. Begoneeeee youngins

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader, Young!Chris Evans x minor!reader, (Name inserted but you can switch it to yours)

Word Count: 3393

Perspective: Reader

Warnings: SMUTTT, p in v, mentions of smoking weed / dab pen, oral sex (female receiving), FLUFF AND ANGST, high sex, lowkey rough sex, dirty talk, degrading dirty talk, EXPLICIT sexual content, age gap, minor having sex with non-minor (17F with 20M),

Authors note:

FIRST FIC YAY!!!!!! Don't be mean pls <3.

I’m really bad at tenses so if it keeps switching from present to past tense sorry. The only grammar corrector I’m using is grammarly so if something doesn’t make sense oopsie, I’m too lazy from spending a while on this fic to go anal and analyze every sentence for errors.

Okay so… I’m a pisces which basically means I can never stop daydreaming. Also the backstory is lowkey gonna be my backstory lol. This is how I wished I lost my virginity plus make it Chris evans.

*THIS IS NOT BASED OFF OF CHRIS ITS FULLY FROM MY IMAGINATION*

Idk I'm bored and it's summer so I have nothing to do. YES THIS IS ABOUT A MINOR BUT IN MY STATE THE AGE OF CONSENT IS 16 SO CHILL.

18+ PLEASE STOP READING NOW IF YOU ARE A MINOR

So I’m a virgin. Not because I am a prude or anything, but it never worked. I like to self diagnose so my conclusion is I have vaginismus. That is basically rolled into my cervix/vagina clenches up whenever I try to have sex so no dick fits in and if anything does fit it's incredibly painful. It's not a matter of being turned on cus I could have Niagara Falls in my panties and it still wouldn’t work, trust me. Even being fingered was awful and I’ve been fingered like 10 times and none of them were enjoyable. My sister says I’m just really tight. Idk. I can finger myself and it's good-ish, I mean how far up can you reach with your own hand?

But I’ve had enough of being a virgin and I just want someone to blow my back out. Preferably some sexy older guy. And because I’m sick and tired of having an untapped pussy I’ve devised a plan. I am going to the beach in a week or so and I am going to find the guy who I had my first kiss with and have him fuck me. Or some other hot guy I meet. But to make sure my inhibitions are lowered and my vagina doesn’t clench from nerves I am gonna get a little high before.

1 week later.

My mom, stepdad, and I arrive at the beach and it is so pretty. I love this beach. It brings back so many good memories. I am rooming with my childhood friend, Sarah, and she knows I want to get fucked. We’ve snuck out before and we are so excited for this week. I take a picture of the beach and put it on my Snapchat story with my location tagged. This will let my first kiss know I’m near him so he can hit me up to fuck me.

The day goes by kinda slow because all I could think of was walking up and down the boardwalk trolling for hot men. Finally, night comes and all the families that are at the beach go to dinner. I was kinda bored but then our server came. He was something else.

“Hi my name’s Chris and I’ll be your server tonight.” Ugh. Even his voice made my whole body warm up. His greenish blue eyes stared into my soul as he took my order. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed and the way his black shirt hugged his biceps was absolutely sinful. Okay yes, he was probably in his early twenties but who said I was ageist. If anything an older man would know how to fuck a woman better than any stupid high school senior that I would meet.

I got up to go to the bathroom and saw Chris on my way. We locked eyes and didn't break contact until I went into the bathroom. As I stepped out of the bathroom I saw him again. It looked like he was waiting for me. His body was leaned up against the wall across from the bathroom I had just exited. He stopped me and said “Call me.” and handed me a piece of paper. Before I had a chance to say anything he turned and I was watching his perfect ass walk away.

I went back to the table as if nothing happened. I don’t think anyone noticed my uncontrollable smile. Throughout the dinner, I could not tear my eyes away from our sexy server. I think Sarah noticed but I was gonna tell her about it when my parents weren’t right there. We finished dinner and all went back to the beach house. When we got back I told Sarah and she was so shook. We were racking our brains on what I should text Chris. I didn’t want to come off too strong but also I wanted this man to fuck me. So we settled on:

“Hey”

Yes. I know it's lame but he’s older defffffinitely older and I can’t act too young. Ugh, I am so scared of his response it's absolutely killing me. Sarah, two other girls that came to the beach, and I decide to go out for ice cream. At least ice cream would take my mind off waiting for a response. As we wait in line I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and it’s Chris.

“I thought I told you to call me” His response is very bold but for some reason, it only intrigues you more. Immensely more. I show Sarah and she smiles.

“Guess who’s getting her wish tonight.”

“Oh my god,” I respond. “What do I say?” I am literally so scared that he will think I’m too young or too much of a child.

“Um, don’t say anything. Call him.” Sarah says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Do I actually call him? I’m literally getting the worst knots in my stomach and now I have to shit and I’m literally so nervous over a phone call. I am not a spontaneous person. AT ALL.

“Okay, I’m gonna call him.” I say to Sarah after literally pondering this for 5 minutes.

Oh god. This is so scary. I tell Sarah to get me a vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and I step out of the line. I go to the walkway near the ice cream shop away from the crowd so I can hear better. I dial his number and put the phone to my ear.

It rings like 3 times and he picks up.

“Hey.” He says and his voice is even sexier than I remember.

“Hey.” I literally didn’t know what to say and I am pacing up and down the sidewalk.

“So you must be the hot girl I gave my number to.”

“And you must be the sexy server.” Some wave of confidence came over me and that was the best response I could come up with.

“So what’s your name?”

“Olivia and if I remember correctly, your name is...” I paused to let him fill in the blank

“Chris.”

“Chris, that's right.” I wanted to come off like I didn’t hang onto every word he said and so I played it off like his name wasn’t already filling my fantasies.

“So Liv, when am I gonna see you again?” He asks and this caught me a little off guard that he would jump straight to the point but I guess why prolong the inevitable.

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“Can I pick you up tonight around 12?” Ugh yes. My plan was filling out nicely.

“Sounds great.” I mean what else am I supposed to say?

“Send me where you’ll be and I’ll pick you up then.” His assertive tone was a panty fucking dropper.

“Okay. See you then Chris.” I’ve picked up from my previous male experiences that if you say a guy's name he’ll be more inclined to fuck you. I mean I totally pulled that out of my ass but I wanted to sound like a confident vixen, not some 17 year old virgin.

“Bye Liv.” The way he made up a nickname for me had me reddening in my cheeks and warming in my core. I say bye and hang up. As soon as the call ends I’m running back to Sarah and telling her every little detail. Okay, I really needed to get back home and shit.

Sarah, the other girls, and I go back to the house and hang out for like an hour, and then it’s 11 and all the parents are asleep. I need to start preparing. So I take a phat shit and then shower even though I showered before dinner but I need to wash off my nervous sweats. I shave everywhere and when I get out I lotion my entire body, put on my sexy lingerie, and douse myself with perfume. I do my makeup but it’s simple and of course waterproof. I text Chris the address of the beach house but tell him to pick me up a couple houses down. I tell Sarah she needs to sneak out with me so if we get caught I can pretend me and her were just hanging outside the house. Sarah and I sneak out the back and bring her cart. I take a couple hits to calm myself down because god forbid I tense up before he can get his dick in. It's like 11:55. God my stomach is in knots.

It’s 12. ‘Oh god’ I think to myself. I see a white range rover pull up at the end of the block. I say bye to Sarah and walk to the car. I see his face. Oh, fuck still sexy. I open his car door and jump into the passenger seat.

“Hey.” I say

“Hey, Liv.” He says back. Him saying that little nickname he gave me is so much hotter in person. So so so much hotter. I think he knows what it does to me because his lips curl into a smirk. “Let’s go for a drive.” Chris says.

“Okay, I’m down.” I say back and kinda rethinking saying ‘I’m down’ because he is definitely rethinking how old I am.

We start driving around and talking and thank god the radio is on to fill any silence there could be. It’s on the country station and him liking country music is literally another added bonus. Then When it Rains it Pours comes on and I say “Omg I love this song.”

“Really?” He says back. “I’ve never met a girl as pretty as you that actually likes country music.”

“Are you kidding? I love country music.” I say back not noting he just called me pretty. We mindlessly chat for like 20 minutes and Chris pulls the car into an empty parking lot that overlooks the whole beach town.

“This is so pretty.” I say in awe of the gorgeous view. I can see from the corner of my eye that Chris is just looking at me.

“Not as good as my view.” He says back in a soft tone that has me melting to the floor of the car. I look back at him and we sit in silence just staring into each other's eyes. I glance at his lips and they look so kissable. They are the perfect amount of plump without being too big. When I look back to his eyes he is still staring at me. His lips almost form a smile and he grabs and cheek and kisses me. It’s even better than each and every one of my fantasies. I grab the back of his neck and kiss him even harder back. Before I know it the kiss gets more rushed and Chris is running his hands along the curve of my back. Our lips are crashing into each others with fervor like no other. He pulls me into his lap and he ruts his hips upward. He takes his left hand and moves the seat back and starts kissing down my neck. His lips leave little bite marks and he reaches my bosoms. He pulls my tank top down and pulls my breasts out of my bra and sucks on my right nipple as he pinches the left. Soft mewls leave my lips and he stops to look at me and the rush of cold air sends goosebumps across my skin. He leans up and kisses my neck and leaves marks all the way to my ear lobe and whispers “Before I fuck you until you can’t remember your name, How old are you?”

Forming words is harder than I imagined so between pants I say back “17.”

“Perfect” he whispers back while still biting my neck. “Come here” he says as he opens the door. I hop off him and outside the car and see the tent forming in his pants. He picks me up and wraps my legs around him and pins me against the car door. He bites my lip and I can’t imagine anything better than this moment. While still mounted on his he opens the door to the backseat and lays me down. He gets on top of me and shuts the door behind him. He ruts against my core and his jeans rub against the soft fabric of my athletic shorts. Although my mind is completely fixed on his engorged cock a thought forms in my mind. What if he thinks I’ve done this before? What If I’m so bad he doesn’t even speak to me again? These thoughts completely cloud my mind and Chris notices.

“What's wrong?” he says as he pulls away. I glance at his bitten lips and pant trying to form words.

“Nothing just, I... I’m a virgin.” I blurt out. I am so scared I ruined the moment but his expression only intensifies.

“Oh well we just can’t have that now can we?” He says back and his lust blown pupils grow darker and he kisses me with such intensity my thoughts completely leave my mind. I could get drunk off the taste of him. Chris breaks the kiss and rips off his shirt showing his perfectly chiseled abs. I felt them through the cotton but seeing them right in front of my eyes makes my mouth open. My lips peak into a smile and he picks me up and places my back closer to the car door. He rips off my shorts and starts kissing down my neck to my navel and I run my fingers through his hair. My chest rises and falls quicker as his lips reach my red lace covered mound. His teeth grab the waistband and he pulls off my panties.

He inhales and says “So sweet.” His husky voice vibrating against my core. His kisses dance around my thighs. As more sounds leave my mouth Chris bites my skin. His hands hold my legs open as he licks down my folds. His tongue flickers across my clit leaving me trembling. I had never felt this way from anyone ever. My fingers run through his short dirty blonde hair and my nails dig into his scalp leaving crescent shaped indents. He slips his middle finger through my folds as he sucks on my clit. His fingers curl up hitting a spot I never knew existed. A feeling in my stomach starts intensifying and spreading through my entire body and I tremble in euphoria. Chris finger fucks me through my first ever orgasm. I shut my eyes tightly and when I open them Chris is staring right at me. I grab the hair on the nape of his neck and pull him back up to kiss me. I can taste myself still on his tongue as the material of his jeans rubs against my sensitive bud. His fingers pinch my nipples as he slips his tongue between my lips. I reach down and feel his throbbing cock through his pants. As I rub with the palm of my hand, throaty moans leave his mouth. Nothing was stronger than my desire to be fucked raw by this sex god. I pulled away from the kiss and say as I stare deep into his eyes “Fuck me Chris.” My words are efficacious to him.

He licked his lips like an animal locked onto his prey. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He pulls down his jeans and takes his cock out of his boxers. I have seen a dick before but never that big. My mouth almost dropped to the floor. He pulled a condom out of the back of the seat and wrapped it around his cock. He pumped his dick a few times before running the head along my sodden folds. “You ready?” I had never been more ready for anything in my entire life. Unable to form words I nodded my head. Chris pushes his cock into me slowly. I gasped at the feeling. I wasn’t as tight as I usually was but it still stung. Each inch stung a little more until he bottomed out into me. He stilled. His breath was hot on my ear as our breathing synced. I gasped again as he pulled his hips back. I reached down and pulled him back into me.

“Don’t hold back.” I said. I wanted this to be as enjoyable for him as it was for me. Chris pulled out and thrust back into me again. The groans that left this throat made my pussy clench around him. He picks up his pace and pain turns into pleasure. My legs wrap around his thighs and I’m pulling him into me.

“You dirty little slut. So needy.” He whispered into my ear. The sound that escaped my lips drew him deeper in like a moth to a flame. Chris drives his cock into me faster so that all you can hear is breathy moans and the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Chris moves his hand to my throat and squeezes. I try to moan but they catch in my throat and I look back at Chris. His mouth is agape and he is staring deep into my eyes. He thrusts so deep my eyes roll back and I have to shut them. He grabs my chin and pulls my face to meet his. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see your face as I make you cum on my dick.” His cock is hitting places he didn’t even reach when fingering me. Another orgasm rips through me and my body trembles harder this time. Chris fucks me through my orgasm and just as I regained my mental awareness I could feel another one coming on. Chris squeezes harder on my neck as he sucks on my hardened nipples. He bites my skin and takes his hand from my neck and reaches between our sweaty writhing bodies and pinches my clit. A guttural moan leaves my throat as another excruciatingly intense orgasm takes over my entire body. I can tell Chris isn’t far behind because his thrusts become sporadic and he puts all his body weight into his last thrust and stills. The noises he makes me wish he was still fucking me. He leans down to meet my lips once again but this time it is slower and more gingerly. He pulls his dick out and lays down on top of me.

We catch our breaths and I say. “Wow, that was.. fuck.”

Chris softly laughs and says “Who knew a 17 year old could have me in the palm of their hand.”

“Who knew a however-old-you-are would take my virginity.” I say with a smile on my face.

“I’m 20, I probably should have told you earlier.” He says looking a little guilty.

“Don’t worry it would have only turned me on more.” I laugh back and our lips join in a soft kiss.

Chris and I look at the dashboard and see it's 1:30 am. “Shit I should probably get home before my friend worries too much.” I say looking back at Chris and he nods. We sit up and reach down for our clothes. I reach for my underwear and Chris snatches it from my hands.

“These are mine now.” Chris smirks.

“Fine.” I put on my shorts and pull my top back on. Sadly Chris covers his humongous biceps with his shirt. I lean in and meet Chris with a kiss. We get back into our respective seats and Chris looks at me with a dumb smile.

“Why are you staring at me?” I say with a giggle.

“Oh, nothing.” Chris says and his smile only looks more like a 6 year old who just stole a cookie before dinner. I mean technically he did just steal something but that's beside the point. Chris puts the car back into drive and turns around to back up.

As he drives me home there's more small talk but then he asks “How long will you be in town?”

“A week,” I say. Chris’s dumb smile returns. “Okay, what's that smile for?”

Chris looks at me and says “I’m just excited to fuck you every night this week.”

#chris evans #cevans #firstfanfic #yay #excited #chris evans fanfc #chris evans x reader #young chris evans #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #smut #fluff #beach #stranger smut

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nattikay · 3 years

Text

So I saw this post while browsing toa tags the other day. While I don’t think being obsessed with the school mascot automatically makes Toby a furry (though it is funny to joke about lol) since “being a furry” actually just means “being a fan of anthropomorphic animals” and doesn’t necessarily require any form of costuming or interest in such, it did get me thinking, hmmm...if he was a furry, what would his fursona be? 🤔 And from there I started wondering what Jim’s and Claire’s would be as well because y not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BUT WAIT, I hear you say--haven’t you already drawn the trio as werewolves and wolfwalkers etc.? Wouldn’t those be their fursonas??

Well yes....but actually no.

I guess it’s a little hard to explain, but there’s a nuance between “[person] but as an animal” and a proper “fursona”. While a fursona is an animal character used to represent its person, it doesn’t have to physically resemble them at all as you would expect [person]-but-as-[animal] to. For example, if you were to design me but as a cat, you’d probably give it light brown fur and green eyes like I have irl. But my fursona, unlike my human self, actually has blue fur and purple eyes. You can give your fursona matching physical traits to your own if you want to, and some people do, but most use only a pinch of their irl appearance, if any at all.

The choices people make when designing their fursonas vary wildly from “it looks like me irl” to “it looks like who I want to be” to “I just really like this color scheme” to “this particular color/marking holds deep personal meaning to me” to “this particular pattern represents a particular defining moment in my life” to “idk it looks cool and i vibe with it” etc. etc. etc. Everyone has different reasons of varying depth for the decisions they make in designing their fursona.

Therefore, to design a fursona for Toby etc., it’s less a question of “what would this character look like as [insert species here]?” and more of “how would this character choose to present himself with his own [animal] character?”

And that’s a much trickier game than just transferring a character aesthetic to a new species. ^^; We have to kinda dive into the characters and makes some guesses about how they, if given infinite creative freedom to design an animal avatar with no rules or limits, would choose to present themselves.

So all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Starting with Toby because he’s the one who inspired the post. I think Toby might choose a wolfdog fursona. A lot of people who choose wolves as fursonas consider themselves to be overwhelmingly loyal to their friends, a trait that fits Toby very well. However, while Toby likes to be “cool”, I don’t think he really thinks of himself as much of an “alpha” type--he’s more of a sidekick, and he knows that, and he’s ok with that. He’s the wingman. So what better way to incorporate that than to add dog into the mix? Man’s best friend=Jim’s best friend. Sociable, humorous, and unwaveringly loyal. Wolfdog it is!

With the species decided, we can move on to the design itself.

I can’t imagine any form of Toby in anything other than warm colors. This is extra emphasized by the flamelike patterns on his legs and tail, which both speaks to his desire to be totally awesome-sauce as well as acts as an allusion to his flaming warhammer. It’s fairly common (not universal, but common) for people to give their fursonas a more “ideal” physique than the person actually has as a sort of way to live by proxy physical goals or fantasies they’ve been unable to attain irl for whatever reason. Given that we’ve seen Toby struggle with fitness from time to time, it wouldn’t shock me to see him take this route. His wolfdog self is still relatively short and stocky, but it’s all muscle, babey.

This fursona is strong, fun, boisterous, and generally just kicks butt. Concentrated awesomesauce flows through his veins. Just don't mess with his friends, or you’ll feel the flames!

Moving on to Jim. Jim was the hardest to nail down, and most definitely the hardest to keep my personal biases out of oof. Which I may have failed to do anways because yes, ok, I made my favorite character a blue feline, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But hear me out first!

For Jim I ultimately settling on a cheetah/lion hybrid.

Cheetahs, in a way, are sort of the underdogs (er...cats?) of the feline world--at least, in their local ecosystems. They are built wholly for speed, not strength--and as such, just about every other large predator in their environment has them beat when it comes to raw strength. Remind you of a certain Trollhunter? plus the long lanky legs. don’t forget those lol

However, because of this disadvantage, cheetahs...usually surrender. They know it’s not worth it to defend their kill from larger, stronger opponents, so they’ll give it up and just catch something else. This aspect doesn’t quite fit our protective, selfless protagonist all too eager to risk everything to save his loved ones--so a pure cheetah may not be the right choice.

So what animal is brave and protective? That’s where the lion part comes in, of course!

Why not just make him a pure lion? Well, a little similar to making Toby a wolfdog instead of a pure wolf. A straight-up lion feels a little too “chad” for our sweet Jimbo. Too much of a jock.

Jim has the humble underdog nature of a cheetah as well as the bravery and fierce protective drive of a lion. Cheelion? Leetah? idk, but let’s design it!

Like Toby and warm colors, I don’t think I can possibly associate Jim with any color but blue. While it’s never directly stated, given that we’ve never really seen him wear any other color (with the exception of the Eclipse armor), I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that’s his favorite. Blue sweater, blue jeans, blue shoes, even his backpack and bedsheets are blue. So naturally, his fursona would be predominantly blue as well! Plus some yellowish accents to (somewhat) match the natural colors of his chosen species(s).

I imagine he originally designed the character without horns, but then added them after becoming the Trollhunter, since it became such a major and impactful aspect of his life.

His lion’s mane also continues down his back in imitation of the “mantle” found on baby cheetahs. This youthful feature could subtly represent the fact that he’s been forced to grow up too fast and take on so much responsibility so young--so his fursona can still be young and carefree as long as he likes even while his real self struggles with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This fursona is relaxed, calm, and confident. He’s not just cool--he’s crispy!

Lastly but not leastly, we have Claire. Out of the three, I think Claire was actually the easiest to choose--or at least, I had the clearest idea of what I thought she might go for.

Claire is a bit of an interesting duck, because while she’s shown to be fairly popular at school, she’s definitely far from the stereotype of The Popular Girl™. Yes she’s smart and pretty, but she’s also a little spunky or even a bit quirky--she’s a theatre kid, she’s a huge fan of hard rock band Papa Skull, and while I wouldn’t quite call her “rebellious” per se, she’s certainly willing to bend some rules if she feels the situation calls for it (not telling her parents that she was going to the concert with Steve, literally sneaking into Jim’s basement to try to find out what was up with him, etc).

That said, I think Claire might go for a hyena fursona--something a little out of the box, but not totally out of left field. (she also shows a slight Gurl Power™ streak here and there “the staff was not meant to be wielded by man--” “I am not a man!!!”) and if you know anything about hyenas...well, yeah lol)

I think Claire would lean into her punk-rock “rebellious” side with her fursona design. This character is completely free of the pressure of being the councilwoman’s daughter and having to maintain her mother’s public reputation, and thus allows Claire to express a less restrained side of herself. She has a bold semi-edgy color scheme with bright accents (and some earrings to match her person’s hair clips) while still remaining feminine and (her own brand of) fashionable.

This fursona is spunky and sassy; she’s spicy and sweet all rolled up into one. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to chase it down. She lives her own life and she’s dang proud of it.

....sooooo yeah there’s my take on what Toby’s, Jim’s, and Claire’s fursonas could hypothetically be. And I guess since this post was inspired by a joke about Toby’s infatuation with the school mascot, here’s just some quick thoughts on how they might approach fursuiting to end us off:

Jim I don’t see as much of a suiter. He might try it once or twice if given the opportunity, but at the end of the day it’s not really his cup of tea--he’d rather act as the “handler” for his friends, if anything.

Toby and Claire, on the other hand, I could definitely see as suiters. In fact, with her interest in acting, Claire would probably particularly enjoy it--she’d be one of those suiters who really gets into character, absolutely refuses to break the magic publicly (outside of any actual medical emergency), and popular at cons because she just performs so well.

Toby, meanwhile, would be the more chill type--uses his normal voice in-suit, isn’t really too stressed about “breaking the magic”, just kinda hanging around like he would normally except “look I’m a talking dog, cool right?”.

also while I was typing this it occurred to be that since Eli is canonically a cosplayer then he could be a fursuiter as well; in his case i imagine he actually made his own suit it’s a protogen and it’s full of little LEDs and other electric gadgets, it’s not the prettiest thing ever as sewing is not his forte but boy did he try!! good for him. good for him

#so anyways I put way too much thought into this...enjoy I guess?#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toby domzalski #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #furry #my art

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foenixs · 3 years

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aight aight idk of this is a good request but monsta x as your employees or something and they're whipped af for you?? but make it nsfw 👉🏻👈🏻🥺🥺 it's v broad I know but do with this what you want

x shy anon

Monsta X as your whipped employees

note: I'm so sorry, I forgot the nsfw part 😭 (i didn't read over the request again before starting to write it) some of these hint at sexy time but they are mainly imagines for how they would behave around you and the office after realizing they like you more than they should

This is supposed to be a lil present for you, happy birthday! ❤

if you like my fics please reblog them with a nice comment or tag

POV: You are Monsta X's employer and they are whipped for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shownu : the servant

very hardworking; he doesn’t get distracted from his work easily but when you bend down a little too low to show him something on the screen, he turns his head away, blushing heavily

he’s very slick with the way he communicates with you, offering to make you a coffee and carrying things for you

does those things without a second thought because he wants to be useful (subconsciously he just wants to be close to you)

when you ask him why he is always following you around the office he starts to stutter, mumbling something about how he didn’t mean to be creepy he just wants to help you out, but you can tell by the way his breath hitches that there is some deeper meaning behind his actions

he ends up taking a job at another company so he can ask you out on a date (he doesn’t have to, but he wants to show you how serious he is and that he doesn’t just want to sleep his way to the top)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonho : the mess

becomes a blushing mess the minute he realises he has a crush on you

avoids eye contact when talking to you and tries to not bump into you in the office (which turns out to be harder than he thought because it’s not exactly a big office space)

he’s usually smart and quick on his feet but when you ask him a question now it takes him forever to answer and he often miscalculates numbers in his reports

you quickly notice how off he is and start to worry that something private might taint his mind, so you tell him to take a couple of days off and he looks at you with sad eyes thinking he is close to getting fired

he can’t stop thinking about you while he is at home and after his friends give him a kick in the ass to finally man up and confess to you, he calls you up, blurting “I love you” and instantly hanging up again

you pay him a visit and end up staying the night (and a couple more) and his concentration seems to return to normal as he can finally call himself yours

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Minhyuk : the comedian

starts his day by telling the joke of the day, gets everyone to laugh and raises the spirit in the office

his workspace is covered in post it notes with little scribbles he drew himself (“Shouldn’t you be working?”, you ask him as he is drawing again; “but this is work, a work of art, like you *wink*”)

surprisingly, he always hands in his reports on time and never makes any mistakes

he tells you up front that he is attracted to you, but you take it as one of his jokes

after years of working with him he asks you why you never made him your valentine (“Why would I?”; “Well, you’ve known that I like you for three years now and you haven’t fired me yet so I’m assuming you like me back, yet you’ve never asked me out.”)

when you tell him that you thought he was just play flirting he gets all serious, telling you that he would never joke about something like that

you take your time thinking about what he had said and how you felt about him but when the 14th of February comes around you slip him a post it note with a scribble of a heart and the question “Will you be my valentine?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kihyun : the daydreaming altruist

respect the authorities and elders is his number one principle, so he never dreamed of asking you out (it seemed unprofessional and rude to him), even when your sheer presence made his heart jump out of his chest

he tries to date other people, but he can’t push down his feelings for you, every time he ends up in someone’s bed, he can’t help but moan your name

cries himself to sleep because he doesn’t want to lose you, but he also can’t move on from you

he daydreams a lot while he’s at work and barely gets anything done

when his performance review comes in you are shocked to see his low numbers and confront him about it, he is apologetic and takes full blame, lowering his head in shame

“Gosh, you’re cute…”, you mumble to yourself, trying to figure out what to do with him, “tell me what hinders you from working. Be completely honest and don’t be scared about coming off as rude, I want us to find a solution, together.”

“You”, he admits, and his sudden bluntness almost makes you fall out of your chair (you settle on late night dates and his performance miraculously enhances)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyungwon : the perfect balance

he’s considered the quiet one at the office so when he asks you to join him and his friends for a karaoke evening you are quite literally left speechless

he works hard and focused during the day and plans out crazy dates for the night

no one at the office expects you two to date since he is very good at hiding his feelings in public, but he makes sure you still feel appreciated and loved, cuddling into you and professing his love when you two are alone

you stay together for a long time, perfectly balancing your work and love life and eventho he gets job offers from other companies for higher pays, he stays loyal to you and your company till the end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jooheon : the attention craver

tries to gain your attention as much as he can, thinking that’s gonna win you over

gets sulky when you don’t greet him in the morning, eventho you are clearly stressed

does everything you ask him to do and more (overachieves), knocking at your office door when he has finished his work to ask you if there’s anything else to be done (it gets to a point where you have no work for other employees left because he simply does too much, too fast)

when you tell him to go take a break you find him in the cafeteria, reading over his reports while his soup gets cold

“Do you really love working or do you just want to impress me?”, the question had been lingering on your mind for a while but when you finally confront him about it, he falls silent

he admits that he wants you to notice him and you tell him you do, but you are worried he’ll get a burnout

you tell him it’d be better if he left the company, for his own health, but before he breaks out into tears you ensure him that you have indeed fallen for him and this was the only plausible solution to ensure a serious future for you two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Changkyun : the fuckboy

flirts with other colleagues to make you jealous, but it only makes you see him as a fuckboy

when you tell him to mature and leave his horniness at home, he becomes beat red, his confidence dying down in his throat

everyone has a crush on him (boy or girl) and you are surprised to find out he’s turning all of them down

he would never admit his feelings for you, and he is lowkey intimidated by your assertiveness, his facade shattering to pieces the second your hand lays on his shoulder

he wants nothing more than to be bent over that stupid desk of yours, writing drabbles about his imaginations

one day he accidently attaches one of his personal word documents to an email instead of his report and when he realises his mistake, he rushes to your office to tell you to please not open the email, but you already did, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, telling him to lock the door behind him

needless to say, he is your fuckboy now

masterlist

taglist: @euphoricsunflowers, @baa-nana, @vanillaknj, @mingiibabieee, @sub-hoshi-enthusiast, @soya-zz, @coeurbreak, @mellowriting , @submissive-bangtan

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

three guesses - Alice/Cindy - Fear Street

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alice/Cindy Berman (Fear Street) Characters: Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Cindy Berman (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, First Love, First Kiss, Lesbian Cindy Berman (Fear Street), Fluff, it's basically fluff with humor character study foreshadowing and idk they're just cute Words: 1,845

The two of them were only friends and would always be and Alice was perfectly fine with that… sometimes.

Alice and Cindy are best friends and have always been. Alice and Cindy are also hopelessly in love with each other, even if they don't know it yet. Then... their first kiss happens.

Alice was used to thinking a lot about Cindy Berman. It started when they were just little kids. Alice had been of the misguided belief that bothering somebody was a reasonable way to show your appreciation for them. So, mesmerized by the quiet brunette that carried herself with more confidence than anyone else in the playground, a young Alice had decided to push Cindy to the ground. She had smiled all the way even after Cindy had jumped back to her feet and tackled her down to the ground too. It had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Just a regular friendship. The two of them were only friends and would always be and Alice was perfectly fine with that… sometimes.

The problem was she never stopped thinking too much about Cindy Berman. She thought about those blue eyes that were inevitably expressive and honest despite Cindy’s emotional walls. She thought about Cindy’s temper, the scariest thing in all of Shadyside for Alice, who was used to seeing Cindy as impressively calm and collected until one bad thing set her off beyond repair and it was time to hide. Except, Alice never hid from Cindy. She took Cindy’s anger, and Cindy’s passion, and Cindy’s braveness, and it only made her stronger, something she was thankful for. Not only did she need a considerable amount of strength to endure her own complicated life. But it was something that prepared her for all the things that entailed having Cindy Berman in her life and, worst-case scenario, losing her.

It was a complicated balance, whatever it was that Cindy kept inside her. Alice didn’t exactly understand it. She had never considered herself to be too complicated. She was just lucky enough to be one of the people that didn’t have to put too much effort into understanding themselves. Confident and comfortable in the person she was from a young age, Alice had a lot of free self-discovery time to spare. Time she spent staring at Cindy when she thought the other girl wouldn’t notice. So, she noticed the signs. Slowly but surely Cindy raised the walls she kept around herself. Cindy was used to trying to tame her temper for others’ sake, but she started taming her confidence, and her authenticity. It looked like she was trying to isolate herself from the rest of Shadyside. Alice was left fearing the day some little thing would change Cindy Berman forever.

Before that could happen, however, they were still just themselves. Alice and her unrestrained laughter, Cindy and her fearless nature. Alice and her curiosity, Cindy and her cleverness. A treacherous combination that was put to good use in Shadyside, where looking for trouble was the easiest thing in the world. There was no need to pretend they were someone else, some well-adjusted children, some picture-perfect girls from a magazine. They were messy, and creative, and inseparable. Alice looked for trouble, Cindy dared her to make it twice as risky. Alice hesitated at the edge of a cliff, Cindy ran up behind her and threw both of them to a lake, limbs tangled and free as they would ever be. Last but not least, Alice was clueless as to how to express her feelings for her best friend, and Cindy instinctively but blindly reciprocated them twice as fiercely.

There was a special summer when the two girls had the most fun they ever had together. Of course, there were gray clouds all around their small bubble of joy. They were in Shadyside, after all. Alice was already hiding scars, and Cindy’s father was already out of the picture. Alice was starting to want more fun than it could be safe to have, just to pretend that the rest of life wasn’t so difficult. Cindy was starting to retreat into her own thoughts, the wheels turning in her mind as she stared at the easier lives that Sunnyvalers had. But things hadn’t gotten out of control yet. Summer felt bright and endless. Cindy cut Alice hair, and Alice nearly burned down the Berman’s kitchen. Always a little chaos, always a lot of fun, always the two of them together. They spent their days together, to make up for the shadows lurking in their respective homes. Very often, Cindy’s younger sister would tag along with them, making Cindy complain about how much Ziggy was trying to be like Alice, even if she secretly thought it was adorable. Life was good.

Life, however, was going to be put upside down for them very soon. Not even in the tragic way they had grown to expect. Not yet.

First, they had to live through the day when they were hanging out at the Berman residence and Alice asked Cindy to do her makeup. More specifically, Alice shoved a black eyeliner in her best friend’s hands and then let herself fall on Cindy’s bed without a second thought.

��Come on. Don’t stop until I look like a stoned panda,” Alice said.

“You’re so stupid,” Cindy sighed. She was using that very particular Cindy Berman tone of voice that Alice could recognize as trying to sound annoyed but secretly enjoying herself.

Alice's thoughts, however, were rudely interrupted by her brain finally catching up with her severe miscalculation. Before she knew what exactly was happening, Cindy was on the bed with her. Cindy was on the bed on top of her. Her admirable best friend was straddling Alice’s waist and wearing a deep frown of concentration as she started to work on Alice’s eyeliner.

“Shut your mouth before a fly gets lost in there,” Cindy teased her friend with a smirk.

Seeing herself caught with her lips parted in surprise, Alice snapped her mouth shut. But she continued to stare up at her best friend’s endearingly focused expression. This position was at once that best and worst feeling Alice could remember experiencing in her young life. Cindy’s eyes were strikingly blue. And no matter how tough Cindy tried to look, there was always that soft smile that appeared on her lips without her realizing it. Their faces were maddeningly close. Alice could feel Cindy breathing, and she could have probably heard Cindy’s heart beating, if her own heartbeat wasn’t already a loud drum in her chest. Before she could worry too much about the idea of Cindy being able to hear her heart beating so loud and wonder the reason behind that, Alice decided to do something about this situation. She had to fight back.

“You look cute,” Alice blurted out. She felt genuinely surprised by her mind’s ability to continuously come up with the wrong strategy to express or hide her feelings.

“Shut up,” Cindy replied. She scoffed like a true unruly Shadysider. But Cindy still marveled at her friend’s inability to hide that sweet strain in her voice. It didn’t matter if at the end of the day they were all cursed the same. To Alice, Cindy was unlike everyone else in this town.

“What?” Alice laughed, “It’s true!”

Her laughter shook her whole body, and nearly made Cindy lose her balance. But instead of laughing along, the brunette’s frown deepened and she stopped her use of the eyeliner.

“Hey!” Cindy snapped. “I’m as tough as you, you know?” She poked at her friend’s chest with the eyeliner.

“Ouch!” Alice exclaimed, and raised her hands in surrender. “I know, Berman. Trust me, I know.” She took a moment to think about all those times when Cindy Berman and her angelic blue eyes proved to be just as much of a troublemaker as Alice herself. However, then she couldn’t help but break the silence. “You’re still cute though.”

This time Cindy surrendered to her friend’s charm and laughed along with her. “Fuck you,” she said and rolled her eyes affectionately. Then she started working on Alice’s makeup again.

However, that little interruption had brought them closer than before, which started a couple of problems. For Cindy, she realized she was nearly done. She had already applied more eyeliner than necessary. But she was thrown off guard by how much she did not want to move away from her current spot. For Alice, as usual, her problem started with Cindy’s laugh. Because it brought Alice’s attention to Cindy’s mouth, and then there was Cindy’s easy smile firmly in place, and Alice simply couldn’t look away from her best friend’s lips. In the end, it couldn’t have happened more naturally even in their dreams.

The atmosphere around them had irrevocably changed. The energy between their bodies was simply different. Cindy couldn’t have continued with the application of makeup even if she had tried, because her hand was starting to shake. So instead she found balance holding on to Alice’s right shoulder.

“Done,” Cindy announced quietly, without meeting Alice’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Alice replied, her eyes still lingering on Cindy’s lips.

Then Alice carefully pushed herself up on her elbows. Not much, just enough to hear a very small breathless gasp escape Cindy’s mouth. But neither of them tried to move away from each other.

“Alice.”

“Yeah?”

Only when she heard Cindy call her name did Alice look back into her favorite pair of blue eyes. She was beyond happy to notice those eyes were staring at her mouth. Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that Alice feared she could get a heart attack. Still, she was smiling when she finally closed the distance between them and kissed Cindy Berman for the first time.

Alice nearly gasped in utter surprise when she felt Cindy immediately reciprocate the kiss. But then Cindy pulled away, enough to spark a sense of panic in the other girl, but not enough for it to last. In fact, it seemed she only moved to sit more comfortably in Alice’s lap.

“What are you doing?” Cindy wondered breathlessly. She shook her head a little, incredulous, not of what just happened, but of how good it felt. She placed a gentle hand on Alice's cheek. She could feel and see the moment Alice smiled playfully at her.

“Three guesses,” Alice replied right before reconnecting their lips in a much more confident kiss.

Cindy made a small noise of surprise, and then she stifled a giggle against Alice’s lips. They continued to exchange kisses until Alice’s arms got tired. She let herself fall back on the bed, taking Cindy down with her. The movement broke their kiss, and it was a miracle that they didn’t accidentally bite their lips as they fell into bed. But they didn’t mind if it was messy, if it was an imperfect moment. For them, it couldn’t have been better. They laughed wholeheartedly, and then they were back to kissing. Alice wrapped her arms around Cindy’s waist, and Cindy reciprocated by tangling a hand in Alice’s hair. Personal changes and life-changing problems could wait. Shadyside and the entire world would have to wait too. There was a couple of best friends figuring out how perfectly they fit together and how much they had really wanted to kiss each other.

#shoutout to fear street for being the only fandom that inspired me to write about a different pairing without even mentioning my otp #cindy berman is a lesbian!#fear street #fear street fanfiction #cindy berman #alice fear street #cindy x alice #alice x cindy #fear street part 2: 1978 #fear street trilogy #my fic

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yeojaa · 4 years

Note

so maybe another devil in a new suit drabble 👉👈 maybe jk meeting oc parents or like more interactions w oc and jks parents/sister

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. pg-13. tags. mentions of coconut!kook dancing (and the whole reason i wrote this tbh), cute banter, idk. just a lotta fluff, a lil bit of grinding, y’know. wc. 2.7k. beta reader. none other than @hobi-gif. i love you always! author note. oh look... it’s me... posting something... after sixteen hundred years. womp womp. this truthfully didn’t go the way i planned it to but i hope you enjoy regardless!

It really shouldn’t surprise you. Frankly, it doesn’t.

But it is a little funny.

There are about six girls gathered in a gaggle around your boyfriend, all desperately vying for his attention as he presents a neatly gathered bouquet to his little sister. Jisoo’s all smiles, completely over the moon with pride and riding that high as she rightfully should. (She’d done incredibly well, closed out the showcase with a fluidity you could never even dream of.) She doesn’t even notice her friends staring at her brother with hearts in their eyes, each one red in the face and not from exertion.

(That, or she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s grown used to it - the whole having-a-heartthrob-for-a-brother thing.)

It’s actually quite cute, if only because you know Jungkook doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. Can feel it in how he keeps bouncing his gaze back towards you, dimple winking from deep within his cheek each time your eyes meet. He’s like a child going back to his favourite toy, momentarily distracted by tittering laughter and his sister’s sunny smile but always coming back to you. The knowledge warms you from the inside out, drags a satisfied smile across your lips.

You wonder whether he notices the attention or if it’s just another part of his life. (You think he must know. These college students don’t really hide it well, too handsy for their own good, years of growing up in semi-close proximity instilling a certain confidence in their motions. That, and because Jungkook is quite possibly the least intimidating person you’ve ever met.)

“Thank you for coming!” It’s Jisoo, flushed and excitable, round eyes as bright as her brother’s as she crosses to you. This had been her moment - her time to shine - but you appreciate the effort she makes to include you, finding you within the crowd. “I was a little nervous but…” A shrug rolls her narrow shoulders, shakes her dark hair from its loose coil.

You’d seen her practice before this - watched the long videos she’d regularly send to Jungkook - but seeing her in real life motion was an entire league of its own. Dancing was her calling, every bit of her made for it. There was just something lyrical about the way she moved, how her hips rolled, limbs seemingly guided by the rhythm of the music. A grace you’ve never had, even on your best day.

“You shouldn’t have been.” You’re beaming right back at her, sisterly reassurance on your tongue. “You were amazing.”

Whether she believes you or not - you think she does by how her cheeks grow ten sizes and her eyes are all but swallowed whole by the expression - she’s gracious, accepting the compliment with her blinding smile. (She really was like Jungkook like that.)

“You guys should come to a class one day.” By that, she means a class she helps teach every once in a while. You’ve heard about it on more than one occasion, seen the choreography posted on Instagram and YouTube.

Still, you don’t expect that, brows shooting high. Laughter filters past your teeth, springing off your tongue. “I am not a dancer and I doubt your brother—”

Now it’s Jisoo’s turn to wear surprise like a neon sign, expression splitting with giggles of her own. “Wait— have you not seen Kook dance?” The way she says it is incredulous, Bambi eyes sparkling with what looks like mischief.

“No?”

“Your sister told me something.”

You’ve never seen this particular brand of worry on his face, eyes even more comically wide than usual, whatever words he’d originally meant to speak dying on his tongue. He looks like a literal deer caught in the headlights, one of his nicknames suddenly very apt.

“What did she say? She likes to embarrass me.” True. Jisoo and Jungkook had a textbook sibling relationship, full of teasing and mockery and copious amounts of love. “Whatever she said, don’t believe—”

“She said you used to dance.”

“Oh.” Oh? You hadn’t expected Jungkook to deflate so easily, relief flooding his features. “Yeah, I did. In university.” He’s utterly unbothered by this knowledge, attention back on the soondubu jjigae he’d been shovelling into his mouth. “I had some friends who were dancers, so it was good exercise.”

“I want to see.”

His answer is immediate, despite the heaping bite of rice and stew in his mouth. “No.”

You whack him across the shoulder, startling him into clattering his spoon on the countertop. It leaves a messy red streak across marble but you’re dragging his attention back to you with a firm glare, fingers cradled under his jaw. “I want to see.”

Talent apparently runs in the family, you realise halfway through the third video. Jungkook moves with the same assured movements his sister does, with power and grace and a confidence that frankly baffles you. He treats the practice room like a stage, running through the motions so fluidly you almost have trouble believing it’s your man on the screen. (Not that he’s particularly ungraceful. It’s just surprising, like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.)

“So, what happened?” You say it so conversationally, innocently, with eyes that mimic his own. From the corner of your periphery, your boyfriend shifts, hand flexing over your knee. There’s the furrow between his brows, the subtle tension in his jaw. Worry.

“What do you mean?”

Your own hand waves toward the screen, where the image of Jungkook from over half a decade ago sits paused. “You were so…” You’re not sure what you mean. There are just so many options to describe the literal baby boy on the television. Young? Confident? Round? (You can’t get over his haircut, though you suppose you can’t hold it against him.)

Jungkook simply stares at you, waiting for you to find whatever words you want to use. Despite the uncertainty that swims somewhere in the depths of his eyes, he’s endlessly patient. Always so soft when it comes to you.

“You had a coconut head.”

Laughter explodes off his tongue, entire face screwing up with amusement. “Are you serious?”

“You did!” Admittedly, the cut had somehow worked on him but it’s so reminiscent of grade school haircuts you can’t help but focus on it, too distracted by the glossy sheen to offer much else. “I guess I get it, though.”

“What do you mean? Everyone had that haircut—”

“In first grade, maybe.” He sticks his tongue out at you then; you scowl in response.

“What do you get?” As always, he’s perceptive, immediately aware of your carefully knit brow, the thoughtfulness that fits itself around your teeth like gleaming white veneers and holds his attention hostage. He’s grown used to it over the months you’ve been together - knows you cling tight to things with an iron grip, turn them over and over until you’ve made sense of it in that brain of yours.

“The crushes.” You look affronted, almost appalled at the realisation. He bursts out laughing, broad palm coming down upon your bare leg in a smack. (He apologises profusely when you complain.)

“What’re you talking about?”

Your nose is wrinkled, velvet strands dislodged by the shake of your head. “All your sister’s friends. They’re in love with you.” Jisoo had even agreed, laughed about it when you’d commented on it at the recital. Something about them having grown up with Jungkook, obsessed with the image they’d retained of him since university. “But you were a coconut. You wore Timberlands and drop-crotch pants. You weren’t even that cute.” An exaggerated shudder slips over your shoulders.

“I was nineteen.” As if that makes it better. Your judgment doesn’t lessen, the lines running the bridge of your nose only deepening.

“Still. Embarrassing.”

Your boyfriend truly is the best sport, rolling his eyes at you in the same instance he reaches for you, tugs you closer with broad palms, affection searing into your skin. “Well, luckily, no more Timbs. No more bowl cut.” He nuzzles into the warmth of your neck, spreads your knees wide over his hips. The sound of his laughter melts into your throat, dresses it in heat deposited by your breath. “Are you jealous again?”

He doesn’t even get a verbal response to that. Just a heavy glare and two hands squishing his cheeks. “Absolutely not.”

It comes up again in bed, your head on his chest, his hands on your hips. He asks it quietly, conversationally, with a twinkle in his eye that makes you want to smother him with one of his many pillows.

“You’re sure you’re not jealous?”

“I’m not,” you grit, paired with a roll of your eyes and a little snort from your nose. You really aren’t. Those girls are inconsequential, irrelevant. They’ll never amount to what you are to him and that’s just a simple fact. He’s yours - something he reminds you of day in and day out, both verbally and in action.

(You love him for it, appreciate it more than you can possibly begin to explain. There’s a certain bliss to be found in the knowledge that you’re loved. A warmth that rivals even that of the sun on the summer’s hottest day.)

“Then why’re you pouting?” What he really means is why aren’t you smiling. You don’t pout often - at least not in the same ways he does.

“I’m not,” you repeat for what feels like the sixth time.

“Smile for me.”

You do the opposite - throwing your eyes in an exaggerated circle. It earns you a pinch to the side, a tender sting blooming beneath ink-strewn fingers.

“Really—“ When he looks this earnest, it’s hard to deny him, “you’re sure everything’s okay?”

At most, you can sigh perhaps overdramatically. Fold your awkward limbs upon his and bury your face into the crook of his neck. You’re not jealous of those girls, no.

You’re envious of his talent - the simple fact that Jeon Jungkook is, by all definitions, a golden boy. God’s favourite, with his heart wrenching smile and easygoing charm and grace that seems almost surreal. There’s not a single thing wrong with him - okay, except for his bad habit of never answering his phone and always messing up the top sheet and the fact that he absolutely never ever puts the cap back on the toothpaste tube - and it’s absurd. Utterly, absolutely unfair.

But you can’t say that.

“Baby,” he hums, threading the sound of his voice among your hair, tucking the soft syllables behind your ears. “Talk to me.”

You relent - a little. “You’re too good.”

“Too good?” The depth of his laughter rumbles your bones, tickling your insides when it vibrates out of his chest. “At what?”

A hand gesticulates wildly. You’re not sure what it looks like, how close it is to hitting Jungkook in the face. You’ve still got your face pressed to the warmth of his skin, greedily siphoning his sunny radiance with your cheek. “Everything.”

Despite how he laughs - cackles, really, so adorable and high pitched it’s breathy - you know he knows what you’re talking about. You’ve given him a hard time about it before.

“I’m not good at everything, ____.”

He’s somehow even good at making you believe you’re wrong. That’s a feat in and of itself.

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Whatever!” Whether he acknowledges it or not, he’s stupidly gifted. Everyone and their - even his - mom knows it. “Don’t believe me then. I don’t care.”

“Then why’re you making that face?” It’s almost comical that he’s calling you out for your expressions when he’s the king of funny faces, throwing his features into exaggerated (and adorable) masks. (Maybe he’d just rubbed off on you?)

“I’m not,” you huff, exasperated but not quite. Still soft over his skin, velvet on silk.

“You’re so cute.” Sometimes, you think he really is just a child - too happy with putting you on a pedestal and praying at your altar. Devoting himself to you when you’re nothing but a bag of flesh and bone, dressed in designer fashion and wrapped up with a satin ribbon made from sarcasm and candor. (Not that you mind. Who would argue if they were offered such love?) “I still think something’s wrong but…”

It’s a smart tactic. He doesn’t press you for an answer, opting to let it linger between you. Settle like bothersome lint until you offer it yourself.

When you relent - because you always do, unable to shut out the sunshine that practically pours out of him - you’re quieter. Not shy, but bashful. Uncertain in a way you very rarely are. “I’ve always wanted to dance.” So much so, you’d begged your parents to enroll you when you were younger. Demanded lessons upon lessons - only to fail at all of them. Rhythm simply didn’t exist anywhere in your body.

“Really?”

You’re pulled from your safe haven, shifted until your entire point of view is filled with Jungkook, his starry eyes and his fluffy fluffy hair. There’s that look he sometimes gets - full of wonder and adoration - when he learns something new about you. As if just the smallest tidbit of knowledge opens up a whole new world.

“Yes?” You’re half regretting the admission. He looks like he’s up to something, all the cogs in his head turning in perfect tandem.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Hard pass.”

Like a hot air balloon, he deflates, mouth rounding sweetly. (If you didn’t know better, you’d assume the man was made of cotton candy, semi-sweet chocolate heart where the real organ should be.) “Why not?”

“I do not dance.” It’s nothing but a statement of fact, firm and unyielding.

The pout evolves, swings down into a frown that drags his eyebrows with it. “You could dance.”

“No, baby—“ So you’re a little frustrated, all your childhood memories pricking beneath your skin. “I do not dance.”

“Why?” He’s upright now, tugging you with him as if you weigh nothing. His way of turning the conversation serious, pulling you from the warmth and comfort of the bedsheets to this. (He’s still holding you, hooking his big broad hands over your hips, so you don’t mind.)

“No rhythm.” Unable to keep a beat. Two left feet. The list could go on and on, according to your ballet instructor.

“Not true.”

Your brow quirks, mirrored by his as if in challenge. You almost swat at him - so close your hand twitches on his shoulder. “Very true.”

(Why does this conversation feel so familiar? It’s déjà vu.)

“Is not.” Your boyfriend seems insistent, as if he knows better than you. (He doesn’t.) Stares up at you with those pretty eyes and has the audacity to grin when you roll your own, ready to rebuff him.

Because you’re in bed, the one place where you defer to him whether you like it or not.

(You do like it, though. Love it, in fact. Just like you love him.)

“You’re graceful,” he hums, bridging the gap between you with a forward roll of his shoulders. “You’ve got rhythm.” The hand on your hip grows firm, guides your knees to spread wide on either side of him. With each brush of his lips - tender little brushes, endlessly sweet and reassuring - he pushes and pulls, dragging you across his lap. “You can do anything you want.”

You’ve almost forgotten the topic of conversation, preoccupied by how he guides you in languid circles. How the cotton of his boxer briefs feels against the sensitive inside of your thighs. The weight that grows between your legs and nudges indelicately against the soft fabric of your thong.

All part of his plan, of course.

“Your body’s the most beautiful thing in the world, ____.”

When he looks at you like this, you think he might be right. You’d believe it if he kept saying it, sparking desire through your limbs until they’re jellied and loose.

(How he sees right through you - cuts straight to the core of your insecurity - you’re not sure. It feels almost like a superpower, something unquantifiable, unbelievable. He’s too good for you, always. So kind and loving, pressing his belief in the form of his mouth, the tender edge of his teeth when he kisses you slow slow slow.)

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

#anon.eml #incoming.eml #jungkook.doc #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #devil.doc

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miggydiaz · 3 years

Note

For the salty ask 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 20, 22, 23 and 26 for cobra kai pretty please

My answers are so long, so I am putting this under the cut @wonderwolfballoon! Also I just noticed your Daniel icon I SWEAR I’M NOT DRAGGING HIM TO BE MEAN!!!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?* My biggest IDGI ships for CK are probably Elimetri or Kiaz. I’m not here to yuck other people’s yums or anything, but I do think there is something to the idea that Migueli isn’t popular because it’s a ship predicated on mutual respect for one another. Kiaz has the obvious enemies to lovers vibe and I just generally don’t sail those ships. Elimetri has... its problems, IMO, most especially around the idea that Demetri has to like... save Hawk from himself? Idk. I just like romances that I feel are based on love and mutual respect and not ...tropes.   I am also not a Lawrusso shipper although I have a lot of those on my dash and you all are great! Again, not yucking yums! Daniel just makes me want to head butt him too much to pair him romantically with anyone 😂 I don’t even want his wife with him. He needs to self reflect~   4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?*   I once saw someone ship Amanda and Anoush and I noped out of that so fucking fast I almost tripped over myself. I’m not sure if they’re popular. I just think some people feel the need to get Amanda out of the way to sail their ship and stuck her with Anoush which... no. Just no. Let Amanda be a messy single queen with a martini hobby, thanks!   5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*   Not in CK. I’m lucky because I pretty much stick to my little Migueli bubble and I’m okay with that? Lmao lord knows the Squad on my dash is all about the DISCOURSE™️ so idk if I just don’t feel the need to get sucked into the wider ship wars because we have good healthy debates, but so far, so good.   6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*   I never hated it... I just didn’t have many feelings on shipping with this show in general at first. Then I was in the CK tag one day and I saw Migueli fan art. Then I discovered @afurioushawk‘s falconry series and it was all over for me after that! So fandom DID make me love a ship, just not one I hated.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? Oh boy. How much time do you have? In some instances, it’s a good thing season 3 happened because otherwise, this would be a multi-page essay on the problems with race and class privilege as it pertains to Sam LaRusso and just some... generally not nice comments about Demetri that I’m conflicted about because I’m not sure if the writers are intentionally trying to write him a specific way and it’s just not translating to me or what. But season 3 revamped both of their images with me a lot. I’m way more flexible in terms of Demetri, but lmao I was the number one Sam LaRusso hater for a minute there (or maybe number 2, I can think of at least 1 other person who was in that boat with me back in like... August/September, but I won’t call them out because I don’t want them to get hate...) However, I have grown a bit in my opinions of Sam, and even though I still think she’s responsible for a lot of shit she NEVER gets held accountable for, I also think that’s a reflection of the adults around her too, and this includes my otherwise unproblematic queen, Amanda.

But honestly, my most hated character (other than the obvious villain that is Kreese) is Daniel. No matter how handsome Ralph Macchio looks in cable-knits, because Daniel has always been a sanctimonious, shit starting drama king and I say that about KK Daniel too. I’m not saying Daniel was the ~true villain~ or anything, or that Johnny was innocent -- I can only drink so much Red and Yellow Kool-Aid -- but Daniel’s always been annoying to me as a protagonist, and turning him into a smarmy wealthy car salesman who is also a class traitor did not do him any favors in my book. I will say, I also like Daniel more in season 3 than I have in previous season, but since he is the adult, I will be mad at him longer than I will be at the kids, ya feel?

10. Most disliked arc? Why?   Johnny’s entire season 3 storyline. The sheer level of REGRESSION at every turn drives me bonkers. It’s like watching him go through all of the stumbling blocks of season 1 all over again, but without the “he’s learning! He’s going to make mistakes!” free pass that I was willing to give him the first time around. He regularly jeopardizes Miguel’s recovery and it’s played for laughs. He fucks up on every level with Robby. He spends most of his time running away when things get hard or too real. He drops the ball completely with Hawk, and like, not to put too fine a point on it, but a lot of Hawk’s issues are because Johnny put Hawk on this ‘flip the script and be a badass’ path and then offered him no guidance for how to walk that path and instead left him in the hands of Kreese. And then he has the nerve to go to Hawk and basically be like “I made you what you are!” lmao yeah Johnny, you sure did, that’s why he’s breaking peoples arms, hoss. And then all of the nonsense with Ali and Carmen, like... if you were planning on teasing KK fans with Ali and him getting back together, why write her as married in the first place? Why even tease the idea of Carmen and Johnny until after you were sure what you were going to do with Ali as a character? Instead, they do what they did in season 3 and it makes him look like a colossal jerk. So yeah. Literally every choice they made with Johnny this season, I hated.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? People who hate Tory are not valid, sorry not sorry.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? I would have kept Miguel entirely out of Tory and Sam’s beef. Or at least not directly inserted him into it like he was with the kiss. I know the writers thought it was necessary to push Tory to the point of inciting a fight at school, but I am just so exhausted over girls being unable to fight about anything but boys. Also I would bring Aisha back.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?   I am probably biased, but I still maintain it’s Migueli. Look, Miguel stood up to Kyler for Eli and Demetri both. Hawk joined CK because he saw what it could do for some skinny nerd who was getting his ass kicked. And he took to CK, really took to it! Even flourished before he started getting mixed messages. And he and Miguel were pretty much inseparable after that. They coordinated their wardrobes ffs. Hawk dubbed him El Serpiente and no one else calls him that — it’s Hawk’s nickname for him. Miguel confides in Hawk only secondary to Johnny, who is like a father to him. The entire Coyote Creek exchange shows they can fight and disagree but... well, to use the cliche, they don’t go to bed angry, you know? They’re square the very next day. Hawk is the first person at Miguel’s side when he gets kicked over the balcony and the LOOK he gives the second floor where Robby is? That boy is out for blood immediately to avenge Miguel. So much of his s3 behavior is fueled by that need for vengeance because MD is wholly responsible for what happened to Miguel. And Miguel is so confused and betrayed by Hawk’s shift in behavior, and yet still holds out hope that Hawk will see through Kreese’s BS and come with him to The Dojo I Refuse to Name. And when Hawk does make that deflection finally, he shows up at MD with Miguel. There’s so much more that I know I’m missing but whether someone ships them or not, that is a tried and true love and respect for one another, a willingness to fight for and defend one another that you don’t often see in TV friendships... or even in most tv relationships. And I just think that’s the best ❤️

22. Popular character you hate?   Daniel, hands down. I mean... I don’t even necessarily hate Daniel, you know? I just think it’s really, pardon the pun, rich that a guy of immense wealth and privilege can’t get a therapist or turn to his far too patient wife for help with his existential crisis over his high school bully opening up a karate dojo to make some money and help a kid who is getting the crap kicked out of him. I get that Daniel’s narrative is necessary for the rivalry, but it does nothing to make him sympathetic as a character.

23. Unpopular character you love?   Tory, definitely! Everyone hates her and then there’s me and the Squad over here banging away on our Coors Banquet cans yelling TORY RIGHTS! Seriously she catches so much flack for a teenage girl who is... the sole income provider for her family? At 17? While caring for a sick mom and a little brother? And fending off a creepy landlord? Tory has it so rough and then she meets a cool girl at her dojo who asks her to hang out at some fancy ass country club which is probably the nicest place Tory has ever been in, and then she gets talked down to and accused of being a thief and has another girl lay hands on her, only to find out that same girl is her new boyfriend’s ex and... ugh. I HATE that Tory gets shit all over when Tory and Sam wouldn’t even have beef if Sam had apologized to Tory as she SHOULD have. Tory isn’t innocent, but damn, I’d be pressed too.   My other unpopular character I love? Nathaniel. Seriously that kid is THE best. He’s a literal child but is out there like I WILL FUCK YOU UP, even though he’s MD. Honestly, his Cobra Kai energy is so ferocious I won’t be surprised if he moves back to CK eventually. Anyway, I love him. 

26. Most shippable character?   Miguel, hands down. It’s because he’s so affable and sweet overall. And because his hair is so fluffy and pettable that no one can resist touching it. I like to imagine that one day he and Hawk are talking about their hair and Hawk makes a joke about how Miguel’s mane is getting so long that it’s going to be bigger than his own, and then he reaches out to ruffle it and internally has a bisexual meltdown because oh no IT’S SO SOFT AND NICE. But uh... anyway, yes. Definitely Miguel.

#ask game #cobra kai #sorry y’all I gotta tag #uh #anti Daniel larusso #anti lawrusso #anti Kiaz #anti Elimetri #it’s not *really* anti those ships but uh... tagging for the culture???#plz don’t flame ship who you ship!!!#Migueli #i hope this is tagged appropriately if you need something else tagged lmk

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morganaseren · 3 years

Text

WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

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bigsteeb · 4 years

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this is gonna be a long post so bear with me, growing pains got a b i g emotional reaction out of me & I need to share my thoughts & feelings about it because jesus fucking christ.

ok first things first, someone hug this boy immediately. he’s sat in his room, still in his pajamas, in day time watching dog copter. this whole scene is just steven going “lol I’m sad, I’m gonna comfort eat & stay in my pajamas & watch a kids show I watched when I wasn’t as sad haha” & it’s not only upsetting, but relatable too fuck. his room is a mess along with him eating ice cream at what I assume is morning… making it his breakfast? geez steven. also idk if it’s just me here but in this shot he looks… bigger? like ignoring his body size shifting later on in the episode he looks a lot wider than he usually does when paul & drew board episodes to me, he’s rivalling etienne & maya’s steven’s wideness. did he… get chubbier from comfort eating? how much time has passed since together forever for him to put on weight if he has? this could literally just be steven slouching or his pajamas making him look bigger but as someone who is an advocate for the body positivity shown in su & suf it has me curious. I want to hug this soft, sad boy. It could also be due to how steven’s design fluctuates through the animation process, it’s never really on model all the time.

the grunting noise he makes in this scene is very distressing, as are other moments from the episode too. a glimpse at the glow-bracelet he proposed to connie with is enough to physically pain him? fuck me man. is he leaving his room where there’s already ice cream… to get more ice cream? sobs. also the puns in this shot. I cant? slow burn?! you’re evil crewniverse. not to mention his body size changing throughout this scene, god this poor lad.

screams, this was when I started worrying. the boy is now in an environment he has never been in before & is feeling extremely uncomfortable & vulnerable. look at the lines under his eyes, his sad eyebrows & pout I hate it. also don’t even get me started on this part. the slight raise of a voice being enough to send him into panic?! fuck I hate how much I relate to that.

here’s where I immediately broke, no god damn pun intended. seeing steven’s skeleton, steven’s fucking skull, like this pained me. that crack on his skull is from fucking jasper in jail break. I can’t express all of the visceral emotions that were going through my body at this. there was intense sadness for steven, extreme anger at jasper & the gems for allowing shit like this to happen to him. turns out he’s not as resilient as we thought he was. each hit he takes physically breaks him & then his gem instantly heals his wounds, my heart fucking broke at this. think back to everything that happened to him, everything that physically hurt him. it broke him I can’t deal with it! then there’s what priyanka says to steven next;

“you seem to of made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. you’ve recovered physically but, have you recovered mentally?”

this part here along with her reassuring him that there’s nothing wrong with his brain, how childhood trauma can have an impact on how your body responds to stress & how you act in your social life, the usage of the word “cortisol” too. this stuff being in a children's tv show is incredible. the writing for priyanka describes trauma simply enough for kids to understand, but for adults to fully realise too. folks, steven has ptsd. there wasn't one bit of sugarcoating about it or nothing, this is canon fact & it hurts me. for so long have I wanted steven’s emotional issues to be alked about, to not only be brought to steven’s attention but to the audience’s too.

everything that has happened to him has built up to this moment. this moment where his behaviour & coping methods are finally making sense to a large majority of the fandom, & to steven himself. he’s hurting; physically, mentally & emotionally, & he isn’t coping well what so ever about it. his emotional support system is complete garbage, no one regularly checks in on him & folks just take steven at face value like “oh yea glowing pink? he’s fine it’s just steven” but he’s the bad person?! I hope a lot of you out there who genuinely believe steven is a bad person re-think yourselves after this. dealing with trauma is tough as shit. some days you even wonder if that one thing that fucked you up is really worth being labelled as trauma. I still can’t believe this is the route they’re taking, if he doesn’t get some form of therapy by the end of future I’ll be furious.

then things begin to spiral as he remembers what happened with connie. he clutches his chest in pain & begins changing size over intense amounts of stress & it was extremely distressing to watch. steven immediately reassures connie that this isn’t because of her, but because of everything else that happened to him. however. I believe that that’s a slight lie, he wouldn’t of spiralled if he hadn’t of remembered the proposal, steven you fucking himbo. he continues to reassure them both that he’s fine, just that he needs them to leave so he can calm himself enough to control himself.

then this happens.

“I. CAN’T. BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!”

this was fucking intense. he means this literally in 2 ways btw. his body size shifting over the stress he’s feeling is a danger to both connie & priyanka in this moment, but it’s also because of how it started. being around connie hurts him. he’s not mad at her though let me make that very clear, just that thinking about what happened when he tired to propose to her is sending his head in a fritz. he did what he did full of confidence in together forever, for connie to then make him realise how silly he was being. these two are destined for each other, but that advice from ruby & sapphire has really fucked with him. he looks up to those 2, looks up to garnet, their relationship is so strong & stable. for them to give him that advice & to then scream “DO IT!” in his face is incredibly tasteless imo.

then greg gets here. I knew connie was calling for either greg or the gems when she was on her phone as she left the room, fuck yea connie I love you. the breathless, strained “thank you” from steven towards connie for calling his dad? g o d. connie telling him she’ll be there for him when he’s ready?! g o d. these next boards were done by rebecca, I knew immediately when I saw steven’s face. it makes sense that rebecca boarded these, because fuck.

how do I move on from all of the stuff I’ve been through? how do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die!?

I’m tearing up as I type this. when I first heard the leak of this audio I so badly wanted to believe it, but to also believe it was fake too. I was an emotional mess off & on for about 3 days over it because I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking distressing it was. like… shit steven. he seriously feels this. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he felt just saying this in front of his fucking dad. he is hurting badly. this boy, this sweet sweet boy we’ve watched grow & develop into the person he is today is distraught about his future & life. it is… soul crushing to watch this. a group of friends of mine have found joking about the episode as a form of coping with the intensity of it & as much as that’s valid as fuck, any joke coming from this episode feels morally wrong to me. I can’t bring myself to join in it feels terrible even thinking about laughing at it to cope. I love them all, but I can’t bare myself to join them. this moment ending with greg comforting steven, telling him he’s here for him & all of his struggles, got me weeping. greg is possible the best father figure I’ve seen on tv, let alone a kids tv show. he’s amazing.

the final scene right here is lovely. greg making steven a hot chocolate & listening to him vent, reassuring him over his worry for his future. this right here is exactly what steven needs. someone to talk to, someone he could trust to talk about his feelings to. this the start of his support system, tag on peri from in dreams, bis in bismuth casual as well as connie from the past few episodes & it’s already looking great! even when greg eased him about being there for him steven still feels guilty about him leaving his tour, leaving his tour because he got a phone call from connie about his son being in need & steven feels guilty about it. fucking hell man. I did enjoy how the episode ended though, with that little moment between the both of them;

“just get some rest kiddo. you don’t have to solve all of your problems in one night.”

“yea. thanks dad.”

it’s a great message too, all of your struggles can’t be dealt with all at once. I’ve used a similar analogy before but it’s like removing a dead tree. you have to deal with all of the little things surround this issue first before you get to the deep, harder stuff. along side the message about trauma they’re both very important messages, I’m glad they exist in the show.

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one more thing before I end my thoughts & feelings over growing pains.

this ending shot;

as soon as I saw the frog mug my mind raced back to the promo for this scene, & this whole moment to come entirely. if you remember this moment has the first set of leaked audio within it, the audio of the gems basically cornering steven about him not opening up to them. christ pearl even gets mad at him for his gem building a wall behind him, protecting him from them. it’s common knowledge, I hope, that steven’s gem reacts to his emotional state. pearl herself has said this;

“I think your gem is reacting to your state of mind.”

his gem building this wall? it felt like steven was being threatened by them. this scene now has awful connotations with it. because since we now know what the pink mode is doing to steven, how actually painful it is, think back to these;

yea. fuck the gems. I’ll let it slide if steven, greg or priyanka haven’t told them about what happened at the hospital. but if they do know, if they know how much it hurts steven being in his pink mode & still press into him about it I’ll see red. with steven’s trauma & now ptsd being cemented into the show I fucking hope garnet, amethyst & pearl get held accountable for what they put on him as a kid. that shit will not slide with me if they don’t. do not condone what the gems put him through. do not condone the gems for making steven feel like he had to be his mum for them. just… don’t. please.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk lmao sdngsjfhg #this episode fucked me up in more ways than one #i dont even think ill simmer down about it before next weeks episodes either #it was… a lot... to listen & deal with #i care deeply about steven as a character #& see it being canon that he has trauma & ptsd… possible c-ptsd #it fucking breaks my heart #god dammit it crewniverse #i hope you handle this with extreme care #i trust you but still… jesus christ #steven universe #steven universe future #su spoilers #su future spoilers

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s1utspeare · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Interview Meme

I was tagged by my beloved @hils79, whose answers to this were so??? nice???? and good??? i was like HILLLSSSSS MY LOOOOVVVEEEE esp. with their spicy opinion like. it was very good.

name: Brigid! But slutspeare on ao3!

fandoms: hoo doggy. uhhhhh I wrote fic for Percy Jackson, Sherlock, the Avengers, and Doctor Who in Ye Olden Days on FF.net, but now I mostly write DMBJ fic, which, tbh, is really the only fandom that I like writing fic for at this point?? I think it’s because of the people lmao. And also the extremely versatile ways I can use the characters

two-shot: I don’t think I have a two-shot? I have some two-parter series, either finished or in the works, but for me it’s either one-shot or many-shots. I like two-shots though! They’re always very good bc More Content but with the neat formatting of a one-shot

most popular multi-chapter fic: A Swiftly Tilting Planet yooooooo! I mean to be fair it’s also my only multi-chapter fic but

actual worst part of writing: SUMMARIES i’m literally so bad at summaries. they’re all either short or don’t actually make sense bc I’m literally terrible at writing them. I also hate the feeling where the fic is all inside you and wants to come out but you don’t have enough time/energy/typing speed to get it out there quick enough

how you choose your titles: they’re usually song lyrics or lines from poems lmao. I’m also not great at titles. the FoBa Psychic Detective AU is gonna be called You Don’t Recognize the Bodies in the Water, which is from a weird-ass TikTok I saw the other day so uhhhhh take my titling ability as being Non-Existant

do you outline: YES ok so i was adamantly against outlining for like. my entire writing career bc i was like “it’s a waste of time, idk what’s going to happen, i find it out as i write” and then i outlined Swiftly Tilting and banged that one out SO fucking quick. Like, even just having a basic idea of where you want to go before you start makes writing SO much easier. how did i not discover this hack earlier. Also, you don’t even have to stick with it! You can change it as you discover things! Like! Ah!

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: hmmmm i don’t know! There’s like! so many! and most of them I could conceivably get around to, but it might be awhile. I have a vague idea for a Swiftly Tilting prequel about the m9 ship crew, and also a Vincenzo fic about vinnie and luca being IN LOVE because they ARE but i don’t know if I have enough passion in me to write for that show. other than that, though, is just like. a veritable cascade of ideas waiting (ooohh like the Jia Kezi/Li Jiale ghost roommate oneshot based on the hit BL drama He’s Coming to Me? i would LOVE to write that one but idk if it will happen). aslighalkdsfjladkjf @vishcount I also had a SOTUS-dream last night where Arthit discovers a secret plot at the college that involves a gun full of bees that Kongpob’s mother developed and he has to keep it hidden from the Bad Guys who want to use it to create like, fuckin, superpowered swimmers?? also there was a lot of angst involved bc Arthit was a swimmer in high school for some reason and then something happened oh wait oh shit I realize why that was, it’s because Krist was in that one show where he played a swimmer in high school and it was very angsty. Ok my brain makes sense now. Also BTS was there.

callouts @ me: i love u. slow down u maniac.

best writing traits: oh gosh uhhhhhhh ok I don’t want this to sound like i’m bragging or full of myself but like. I’m fucking good at writing. There’s definitely stuff that I need to work on, and maybe i should edit things a little more but like??? bitch!!!! you’re good at this!!! this is your job!!! idk I spent so much time being like “aw shit what if I’m actually not that good what if everyone who reads my stuff is just being nice and saying that they like it and it actually sucks” but i’ve looked back on some of the things i’ve done recently and I’m like, actually a good writer. I mean I’ve been practicing for a long time, so it stands to reason that I would be decent by now. But SHIT like. I’m doing ok! and I’m still a baby! I can only get better!

spicy tangential opinion: I don’t know if I really have any writing Hot Takes? oh wait i guess i do have one sort of. I think the “fake it until you make it” saying is also super applicable to writing, bc in college I was like “ok what if I just make this as Pretentious Sounding As Possible” and everyone was like “omgggg ur so goooodddd this proseee” and i was like “oh damn i didn’t realize that would work.” and now my ace ass writes straight p*rn romance novels for a living. like I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but if you put your work out there with confidence and the knowledge that someone will want to read it, someone is going to read it. also u don’t have to know what a penis looks like to write Sex Involving Penises. You’ve just gotta be good at metaphors.

this was so fun! I love answering questions! I’m gonna tag @vishcount, @lacommunarde, @gaiahenshin, @merinnan, @bookjoyworm, @humanlighthouse, and @undyingsunshine for this one, if you haven’t already been tagged (but as always, no pressure)! also, anyone else who would like to do it, pls tag steal from me!!! love u bbs, hope you’re having a great day!

#tag game #about me #my writing #fic

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995 @asharpkniffe @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?

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