#aaand in order from left to right we have once again

[danpuff-ao3]

Fanbinding 2: Signatures (Print & Stitch)

Current project: A Choriambic Progression

Previously: Part 1

Disclaimer: still new at this. Please don't judge me. And also this is just what I do and really when it comes to some of the smaller details, that's personal choice and stuff you'll decide once you get going and know what you wanna do with it!

Step 1.) Signatures will print 4 story pages on 1 copy paper. I decided more or less early on to do signatures in sets of 20 pages. Though I know to print it by 20s, I still write it all out to try to keep track as I go. I write the total number of pages from Acrobat in the corner, then sort out each signature like so:

Obviously we won't always get a number divisible by 20, so the last signature might be off. But this tells me which pages to set when printing, and how many signatures I should have at the end.

Step 2.) CTRL + P aaand these are my printer settings:

Page Sizing & Handling set to "Booklet." Make sure booklet subset is set to "both sides." Binding: Left. Orientation: Portrait. Then up at "Pages to print" I click "Pages" and set the first one from "1-20" then once that gets to printing I go CTRL+P and set the next signature for "21-40" and so on and so forth.

Step 3.) I grab each signature when they finish and set them aside and group each signature together and easy to tell apart.

Helpful hint: I can tell a signature is done when one side has 2 page numbers side by side that go together (i.e. 68 & 69.)

Another helpful hint: you might need to do a few trial prints to make sure everything prints the way you like. I'd recommend choosing a shorter fic, between 3 and 10k maybe, and making a test signature to see that the font is how you like, what size you want to cut it to, that you're good folding it, etc. Also to get a feel for how to print it and make sure the print settings are right! That's what I did when I first started (I used my own fic Orange Blossoms as a trial run, then In My Veins In My Blood for a slightly longer one.)

Step 4.) Fold! I have bone folder & creaser tools I use for this. Have the side by side pages (i.e. 68 & 69) face up and fold them into each other signature by signature. You should be able to, once folded, flip through and see the pages all in order!

Step 5.) Smush the folded signatures. I keep them stacked and place some heavy books on top of them for a few hours. They need weight on them to settle down and flatten out a bit. You want to get it as tight and small as it's gonna get. I usually keep them under weight whenever I'm not working on them, but I give them a few hours under the books before moving onto the next step.

A note: I try to pick out my endpapers as early as possible and fold and cut and smush them along with the rest of my signature stack!

Step 6.) Cut paper. My copy paper is 8.5 x 11 inches. I know that how my signatures come out, the size I like to cut them to is 5 x 7.5. So with my paper cutter I cut one end down to 8 inches, then the other end to 7.5 inches, then lengthwise down to 5 inches. Again, whatever size works best for you, do that! Just make sure you know what the size is so you can keep it even across the board. (Or if you're like me: as even as you can get it.)

Step 7.) If I have time between cutting and poking, I smush them again, but if not I go right to poking holes!

Or...well, measure first. First you take one signature and mark on the edge where the center is. Then you make 3 marks on either side of it, spread out evenly. (I usually mark an inch apart for each mark outward.

Then you can stack the signatures and use a ruler and mark down so each signature has 7 marks for where you'll poke the holes.

Step 8.) Actual hole punching. I keep cardboard boxes around and use those to cut on top of. I grab a stretch of cardboard and place my signature unfolded on it and use an awl to poke a hole at each point I marked.

Step 9.) I like to give them more smush time before stitching, but after the holes you can stitch them. For this...I give you this Sea Lemon video: How to Stitch a Text Block for Case Book Binding. This is the method I use. I prefer unwaxed thread (I specifically use one I ordered from Hollander's) and I prefer to use a curved needle. I also use clamps to hold my "to do" pile of signatures together while I work, but that's because I like to stitch while laid out in bed or on the couch watching true crime videos LOL.

Not going to lie: stitching the text block is my favorite part. I find it very soothing! (Even if I'm watching true crime while doing it.) (Though for this one I was watching Wendigoon instead...weird/creepy stuff is just as fun as true crime ig 🤷‍♀️)

Note: a lot of sources I found have you glue the endpapers towards the end, but I prefer to stitch mine into the text block. I favor pretty sturdy endpapers, which is good since I basically have to do a row of stitching them alone, which might be too much stress for thinner paper.

Step 10.) yep...time to smush those signatures again!

Step 11.) Once they're pretty smushed, I do some gluing. I like to use headbands (which is decorative) and then you need to put down book cloth for extra stability. You need enough bookcloth to go down most of the spine, and a little bit on either side of the papers. Then you let it all dry while you work on the case, which I'll show you in Part 3!

I use PVA glue (I use Lineco brand which I ordered from Amazon) to put it all down. Normally I only glue down the spine, but for whatever reason I also 1.) used excess of the headband that I glued around and then I glued the bookcloth to the endpapers instead of leaving the excess out to glue down to the case later. Oops. Guess we'll see how that goes.

Also, while I didn't get a picture of it...

Step 12.) SMUSH. I put wax paper all around it so the glue wouldn't stick to anything else, then I stuck them back under weight. I've never smushed them again once I got to the gluing but I discovered the magic of wax paper a little late in the game last time, so we'll see how this goes!

#danpuff binds #fanbinding #busy bee bindery #crafting #danpuff crafts

[elliotoille]

Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing. 

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs. 

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully. 

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

#god im long winded as usual #Anonymous

[whitestaghere]

War, peace and love - Edmund Pevensie x reader

Hey there~ it's been a while and decided I should write something new. So here it is! Thought I should try something new so, angst with a little bit of fluff at the end. Hope you all enjoy!! ❤️✌🏻

"You are such.. AN IDIOT," Edmund pushed my shoulder making me stumble backwards, widening my eyes in shock at what he just did. "DID YOU WANT TO DIE?!"

Pushing him back I scowled at him, "I DON'T SEE WHY YOU'RE SO BOTHERED ABOUT THIS! AS FAR AS I REMEMBER IT, YOU WEREN'T BOTHERED ABOUT ME YESTERDAY?!" taking in a breath I continued, "YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!!"

He pushed my limits this time. He was the cause of this heated argument, why everything had to go wrong for me.

>>> Flashback <<<

Everything was happening so fast.

Susan nearly falling to death, but thank God for Trumpkin being there. Lucy gone in search of Aslan. Edmund, Peter, Caspian and I, on the battle field alongside the narnians. It was a fight to death and victory against the Telmarines.

I reminded myself to thank Capsian, for always pushing me to work better with the sword. Hours and hours of training brought me some luck here. Apart from the fact that a Telmarine swordsman nearly took my head off. Only for Edmund to swing in just in time. He did that of course, not forgetting to glare at me and mumbling curse words under his breath.

Simply. He hated me, I hated him.

Edmund was completely against me coming on the battlefield. Saying I wouldn't be of any use and that I would run away pathetically. That making Caspian and Peter change their minds, being scared that they would put my life at risk. Then there's me, this was what I was training so hard for. I was not going to give in just like that! Not forgetting that, I wanted to prove Edmund otherwise.. and just to piss the boy off too, I managed to change the high king and prince's minds.

And where did this rivalry begin?

To be honest. I don't even know.

He just decided to pick on me, hate me. And I had enough of being weak. And in no time, I began to give him the cold shoulder too. Susan and Lucy saying it was just "a phase". I didn't care. I had enough of his attitude, looking down at me constantly and having to say something bad about everything I do.

Back to the battle.

Everything was happening so fast. Taking down one Telmarine just for another to, throws themselves at you. My legs were aching, heart beating rapidly, mind racing. Running across the field I blocked a sword swinging at Peter.

Peter signalling me to duck he blocked a swordsman, this time behind me.

Turning back to face me, he grinned, "thank you for that." The smile of his fading away just as more Telmarines headed towards us.

Nodding my head at him we continued fighting side by side. Suddenly I bumped into someone. The force pushing me off my feet. Stumbling backwards, I met the hard ground.

I whinced in pain and let out a yelp right after, feeling a much larger force on my body. Opening my eyes my heart began to speed at an inhuman pace.

Edmund.

Out of all the people it had to be him.

Eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, he let out a groan. I widened my eyes in instant panic the second his eyes shot open, connecting his gaze with mine. If my eyes weren't playing tricks on me, I saw a hint of red tint his cheeks. But before I had time to process the situation I could hear my name being called out.

"ED! N/N! WATCH OUT!" Capsian shouted, running towards us.

Looking behind Edmund's figure a Telmarine stood holding his sword mid air, prepared to get Edmund. Immediately, I pushed Edmund off me. Picking up my sword I blocked him just in time.

A piercing pain in my side, and I get kicked back down. Letting out a shriek in pain I held the place I got stabbed. Backing up, and facing the Telmarine behind me, I tried to retrieve my discarded sword.

It was out of my reach and everything was just getting way too blurry.

"Y/N!" I could make out Edmund's figure fighting off the swordsman in front of me.

I could hear voices calling out my name, but couldn't seem to focus. But no, I couldn't give up just like this. I had to get up. Using all the energy left in my body, I grabbed my sword and continued fighting. The rest of it all going in blur, maybe it was just the pain, or for the fact that Caspian and Peter kept trying to cover for me.

But when the Telmarines began to flee and Lucy had come along with Aslan just in time to block them, exhaustion and pain decided to take over.

And the last thing I heard was someone calling my name and my vision went black.

>>> end of flashback <<<

Lucy had rushed in to the scene, acting fast with her healing cordial. The others relieved that I was fine, but all except for one. And that was Edmund.

That leaves us here. In this heated argument.

"YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!"

He let out an annoyed sigh, "YOU TRIED TO SACRIFICE YOUR LIFE FOR ME! AND WHAT WAS I DOING? I HAD TO SIT THEIR LIKE A COWARD!!"

Letting out a fake laugh, I rolled my eyes at him. I can't believe him, he's still so full of himself.

"That's all you care about huh? Yourself. I'm beginning to see why I hate you so much!"

At this, his eyes were filled with anger. The expression on his face, nothing but bewildered. Making his way upto me he grabbed my shoulder.

"What. did. you. say?" he said through gritted teeth boring his eyes into the side of my head.

Glaring back at him I pushed his hand off my shoulder. "You care only about yourself," I repeated in the same tone as his. Letting out a laugh of frustration he ruffled his hair.

"Really Y/N? Is that how you think of me?"

Not missing the sudden softness in his voice I raised my eyebrows in confusion. Boy does he have moodswings.

"Hmm? You think I'm selfish? That-that I care only about.. myself?" he held his index finger at his chest.

The change in his nature confused me to the fullest. Never had he ever been like this in front of me. Why is he like this all of a sudden? Maybe he's just trying to trick me and make me accept that he was right. But I couldn't grasp why is the softness in his voice breaking me?

"Y/N?" his voice was becoming a little stern. I tried to avoid his gaze. Something in me couldn't bare to look into his eyes. Placing a hand on my cheek gently, he turned me to face him.

My face began to heat up instantly, due to the close proximity and for the instant skinship.

There came the guilt. The look on his face breaking me. He looked so sad. He was hurt. And I was the reason behind it. A part of me wished I could take back the words I said. The other part of me, questioning why I'm being affected by this when he's treated me like this the entire time.

"Edmund I-"

"You think I don't care??! Well for your information, I care about my siblings, the Narnians, Caspian! Why do you think I even fought in this war, in the first place?! It's because I care! I could just leave, say I want to go home! But no! I care! I care about my parents! I care.. I care about you..." his voice cracked.

He wasn't making this any easier for me.

I was taken back by the switch in his moods, the sudden "I care about you" and I just didn't know what to say.

Not wasting a second Edmund turned around leaving the room. All I could do was watch him leave. I wanted to stop him, but I was afraid I would say something stupid and make things even worse. Sitting down I ran a hand through my hair.

"Well, that was new.."

Switching my gaze from the floor I saw Peter walking in slowly. I sighed looking away.

"You should talk to him.."

"I-I don't know Pete.."

"What do you mean you don't know?" he sat down next to me. I could feel his eyes lingering on my face.

"I don't know how to face him. I-I don't get why he's like this... and funny part is.. I-I think I hurt him," tears began to blur my vision the second I said those words. Peter wrapped an arm around my shoulder, rubbing my arm up and down gently.

"He does care you know.."

I rubbed my eyes furiously turning around to face him, "then why was he always picking on me? It didn't seem like he cared then?"

Peter let out a low breath, "Ed doesn't really tell people how he feels.. not even with us, he refuses to show his emotions. Most of the time he's cold as ice on the outside.. aaand," he dragged. "Is pretty stubborn.. I guess you could say that's how he protects himself.."

"Protects himself?" I tiled my head in confusion.

"From the world. From getting hurt. He pushes people away thinking they would hurt him. And he's always thought less about himself.."

"I would never.." I mumbled under my breath. But Peter heard it loud and clear, nodding his head "I know.."

"But he does care about you.. so much," Peter looked at me, his gaze soft. Nodding my head I let out a sigh.

"Thank you Pete."

He gave me a soft reassuring smile and gestured me to go after Edmund.

I knew what I had to do now. Running out of the room I set a pace through the Palace. Stopping here and there in order to find out if anyone had seen Edmund.

Maybe things were complicating between Edmund and I. I had to cover the hurt I felt, the feelings I had all this time but now... now I needed to clear everything, make things right between us.

Finding myself in the hall I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, eyes darting everywhere. Where had this boy gone off to?

Turning around I saw a familiar figure standing at the balcony. It didn't take me more than a second to recognise that it was him.

Lifting up my gown I ran upto him. His back was facing me, so I cleared my throat to grab his attention. Spinning around almost immediately, my eyes connected with his warm brown ones.

And without a word he turned around once again.

"Ed.."

No response.

"Ed," I walked closer to him only for him to step away from me.

"Ed please.. look at me."

He was clearly ignoring me.

"Well I hope you'll listen to what I'm about to say.." I took in a long breath, "look, I'm sorr-"

He turned around instantly cutting me off, "oh so now you're sorry?"

Trying my best not to roll my eyes at his antics I looked down at my hands. "I-I didn't know.."

"Didn't know what? Oh wait I get it! Now you think I'm pathetic huh?"

I looked back at him with disbelief. Was he really doing this? Again? He wants to stir up another argument. Unbelievable. But, I didn't have it in me to get mad at him. I wanted to sort this out, so I shook my head in an attempt to not let his words get to me.

"I didn't say that."

"Hmm.. then what are you trying to say Y/N? Tell me."

Trying my best to avoid his gaze I gulped.

"I don't need your apologies."

"Look I didn't mean what I said back there. I was just mad and stressed with the whole situation.."

He scoffed looking away.

"I just... I don't understand why you hate me so much. What did I do? Where-where did things go wrong?"

This time he looked at me raising his eyebrows. But he said nothing. He just stood there, gaze fixed on the floor with an unreadable expression.

"Ed.." his gaze still fixed on the ground.

I took a step closer to him, but he didn't budge. Just stood there. The silence was just unbearable.

Not sure what to do or say, I stood there watching him. The air surrounding us, a mixture of tension and awkwardness.

Observing his face, I realised how different he was. How tall he had gotten. How the freckles sprayed at the bridge of his nose. How soft his hair looked, my fingers tingling with an urge to brush my hands through it. How his lips were a peachy pink, almost like he had tinted it with gloss.

I hadn't noticed how much he had changed over the years. My face began to heat up for the second time that day, and I averted my gaze.

Glancing at him once again it was like a flame lit inside me. And the next second I did something that I never dreamt of doing.

My body decided to act on it's own. Mindlessly I stepped closer to him, standing on my toes I placed my hand on his face.

"Y/N?" confusion laced in his voice but I was too caught up in the moment to really respond to him.

My gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and there you have it. I brushed my lips on his momentarily.

His body tensed in my grip, eyes wide open and pupils expanding to the fullest.

Pulling away from him I let out a shaky breath. But when I looked at Edmund and the look on his face, I widened my eyes in realisation. What have I done?! What was I thinking? How could I be such a fool?! All I could think about is how the boy in front of me could be hating me even more now. I just wanted to make things right between us, but I let my feelings take the upper hand. And now.. I expected the worse.

I turned away from him placing my hand on my lips unconsciously. Even though it was just for a second, I missed the feeling of his lips already.

Next thing I know, Edmund grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him. I was afraid of what he was going to say, what he was going to do, to meet his gaze. But instead without a word, he pulled me into a hug. Arms wrapped around my waist he pulled me closer sighing.

Something about this made me feel so comfortable in his arms. I wanted to scream. My heart thumping against my chest, I slowly hugged him back.

"I'm sorry.." he sighed.

"I'm sorry for being an idiot. For being a coward."

"You're not a coward," I mumbled.

"But I am.. I'm sorry for being so hard on you all these years. But can I just ask you something? To clarify. So that what I'm going to say next won't leave me having to run away in embarrassment?"

I hummed in response.

"D-do you like me?"

My body stiffened. Wait. Is this heading to where I think it's heading?

"I-I.."

"Because I do."

My eyes widened at this. Pulling away from his embrace I looked at him in shock. Is he being serious? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was so unbelievable, to the point that I had to pinch myself just to make sure I was not dreaming.

"You.. you what?"

"I know it's hard to believe. But I do."

"But.. you.. you"

Rubbing the nape of his neck he smiled nervously. Clearing his throat he closed his eyes.

"I didn't like it.. I didn't like you getting involved in all of this.. I didn't want you coming to narnia either, because I didn't want to risk your life. You've always tried to save me. Even when we were kids. And I could never do the same, that leading me to thinking you might consider me a coward. The others were fine with you coming along, even if I said no and I just wanted to stop you. Stop you from coming with us to battle and hurting yourself. And I let that happen."

I looked at him.

He opened his eyes gaze locking with mine he released a shaky breath, "I pushed you away, in order for you to actually give in and stay on the safe side. But that.. that made me nearly lose you.." he took a breath, "and I was scared.. so scared, that you wouldn't feel the same. Specially when you began to avoid me. It was fair of course, after what I put you through. I was afraid I'd end up getting hurt, so I wanted to brush off all feelings and instead treated you badly again."

He took my hands in his, "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I'm sorry. It was fair that you treated me that way.. but I just want you to know, that.. that.." he struggled. "ASLAN! I LIKE YOU!" he shouted. "I like you.. so so much."

I couldn't help but giggle and look in awe. I was at a loss of words. Not getting a reply from me, he sighed pulling away only for me to hold him back.

"Ed.. of course I forgive you. And I'm sorry for everything I said too. I understand how you feel.."

He smiled at me softly but that was soon replaced by a mixture of emotions, hard to explain. That's when it struck me. All this care. All this blushing and constant glances. The instant comfort I felt being in his arms. It wasn't just me being hurt over him hating on me all these years. I wanted things to be okay between us, I wanted to get closer to him. This side of him, I had never seen it before, but now it explains. What I was craving to see from him. I liked him too.

"I-I.. Ed?"

He hummed in response, eyes exploring my face.

"I like you too.." At once a smile wiped across his face. He came closer to me with our hands still intertwined together.

"Sorry I didn't get that. Could you please repeat it?" he brought his ear closer and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Pushing him away and hiding my face in my hands I squealed.

Laughing he took my hands back in his and pulled me towards him. "You like me too?"

I nodded my head shyly. He chuckled moving in closer and brushing his lips against mine. Pulling away just for a second he whispered, "you would not believe how happy I am.." he leaned back in, connecting our lips together.

Wrapping my arms around his torso he cupped my face. Tilting his head Edmund smiled into the kiss. Pulling away once again he leaned his forehead against mine not before pecking my nose. I giggled.

"FINALLY!" Apparently, we had an audience. An audience of one though. "Shouldn't I be getting a little credit here?" Peter smirked. Edmund rolled his eyes. Looking at eachother we broke into a fit of giggles.

Third person's pov

And there they stood; in eachother's embrace, eyes filled with adoration and a love blossoming within them. The war replaced now with that of peace and love.

Well this turned out rather long than expected 😂 I really found this fun to write and I hope you all enjoy reading it!

Love you all, stay safe and happy holidays! ❤️

#edmund x reader #chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie x reader #king edmund #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #prince caspian #narnia aslan #narnia

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter III

The next morning, Gladio dragged Noctis out of bed so they could leave. Ignis finished dressing himself and looked around the motel room. He couldn't find Prompto or (Y/n). Having no doubt the boy had taken the spirit again, he walked out of the room. Scanning the area, he immediately found the two. What shocked him was Prompto's position. He was laying down on the ground on his stomach, his legs swinging back and forth. His camera was trained on the skvader as she laid down on the ground.

"C'mon, work with me here, (Y/n)!" Prompto begged. "How about you hide behind the motel and transform? And when you're ready, you can call me."

The spirit yawned, her nose wiggling slightly. She flopped down on her side with a faint grunt. Lowering his camera, Prompto nibbled on his bottom lip. "Okay, that was really adorable, but not what I was looking for."

"Prompto," Ignis called out, stepping off the porch of the motel. "You'll soil your clothes laying on the ground in such a manner."

"Aaand Mama Ignis has appeared," he sighed. Pushing himself off the ground, he held his camera close to his chest. "Morning to you too, Iggy."

(Y/n) shot up at hearing his name. She dashed over to the advisor and climbed up his body until she was situated on his left shoulder. She threw her long tail around his shoulders, nuzzling her body against the side of his neck. Once she was comfortable, she flopped down and allowed her hind legs to dangle from his shoulder.

Just then, Gladio and Noctis exit the motel room. Ignis glances at his other companions before deciding it was time to leave. "Let's see ourselves to Galdin, shall we?"

"Might as well," Noctis mumbled tiredly.

The group climbs into the Regalia and departs from Longwythe Rest Area. (Y/n) remained on Ignis' shoulder as he drove, enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing through her fur. She looked around as they passed through a ravine of sorts as the radio came to life. The station was broadcasting the news of the upcoming wedding between Noctis and Lunafreya. She could hear Gladio teasing the prince slightly when the broadcast ended, but tuned them out and continued to enjoy the scenery. It was her first time outside of the Crown City and she wanted to enjoy every second of it.

When Galdin Quay came into view from the highway, Prompto stood up in his seat in excitement. "Hey! I see the sea!"

"I "sea" it too," Noctis replied, eyes focused on the clear waters of the ocean.

"That's Galdin Quay," Ignis informed the group.

"Kinda wanna go for a dip," Gladio commented.

Noctis noticed the strange rock formation in the distance. "That a big mountain behind it?"

"No, it's an island," the strategist answered.

"Nobody goes to Galdin for an island, though," Prompto stated. "They go to kick back and get massages!"

"And savor the seafood. It's famously delicious."

"Sounds great," Noctis said.

"Somethin' to look forward to," the shield claimed.

(Y/n) couldn't tear her gaze away from the beautiful beaches of Galdin Quay. The water was clear and the sand was pure white. She already knew what she wanted to do, even though it would risk revealing her human form to Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto. She was going to relax on the beach and nothing was going to get in her way, not even Ignis.

Arriving at Galdin Quay, Ignis backed the Regalia up into a parking spot located by the gas pump. Everyone exited the vehicle and headed towards the Mother of Pearl. Walking across the lengthy boardwalk, they reach the entrance of the restaurant/hotel. A member of the staff greeted them, bowing politely with a hand over his chest. Their destination was the docks, which were located in the back.

They didn't make it far before two men approached them. The taller one had unkempt hair and was cladded in multiple layers of dark clothing. The other man had spiky black locks and wore a faded green jacket with a black t-shirt underneath. Below the waist he wore matching combat pants and black boots. Around his neck swayed the dog tags of what appeared to be his identification as a hunter.

The auburn-haired man was the first to speak. "I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"Are we?" Noctis asked, slightly bothered by the men's presences. He wanted them gone as soon as possible and he had no idea why.

"The boats bring you here."

"What about 'em?" Prompto wondered.

"You're not leaving anytime soon," the spiky-haired man answered. "Better get comfortable."

Gladio crosses his arms, glancing between the two strangers. "And what're your stories?"

"We're impatient travelers, ready to turn ship. The ceasefire's getting us nowhere," the auburn-haired man replied. He then gestures to his companion, who tosses a coin at Noctis.

Gladio snatches it out of the air before it can hit the prince. He examined the coin before looking back up at the strange men. "What's this? Some sort of souvenir?"

Prompto saw the coin and gaped. "They make those?"

Noctis also saw the coin and shook his head. "What? No."

"Consider it your allowance," the taller gentleman remarked with a small, unsettling smile.

"Yeah, and who's allowing us?" The shield scoffed.

He bowed slightly. "Men of no consequences." He then patted his companion on the shoulder. "Come, dear friend. Let us set off."

The spiky-haired man stood still as if her feet were nailed to the floor. He didn't budge as his emerald eyes dwelled on the skvader resting on Ignis' shoulder. Her sapphire eyes locked with his, earning a smirk from the stranger before turning to follow his friend.

"Yeah, right," Noctis sneered under his breath.

Prompto fiddled with his fingers in wonderment. "You believe what those guys said about the port being closed?"

"I'm skeptical, though I won't discount the possibility," Ignis replied.

"I say we go check it out for ourselves," Gladio said.

Walking through the Mother of Pearl, they pass by numerous of people who were enjoying what Galdin Quay had to offer. (Y/n) jumped off the strategist's shoulder and flew to the docks ahead of the boys. She sat near the edge of the docks and gazed out across the ocean. There were no boats in sight.

When she turned around, her eyes landed on a well-dressed young man who was sitting on one of the benches with his legs crossed. She realized he was staring at her with a wide-eyed expression. Carefully approaching him, she sat down a few inches from him. Her tail swished behind her as she squeaked at him, startling him.

The young man, having never met a guardian before, leant down and outstretched his hand to pet her. He was hesitant, but he pushed his fear aside when she stood up on her hind legs and nudged her head against his hand. "Well, aren't yous a friendly one."

(Y/n) looked away from the man when she heard Prompto groan out, "Aw, man. Not a ship in sight. What gives?"

The guardian turned around to see the boys were searching the docks for boats. The young man who was petting her stopped and addressed her companions. "According to my sources, the empire, giving strict orders not to let any vessels leave the docks of Altissia. Real shame if you were late to your own wedding-right, Prince Noctis? Name's Dino, by the way. Pleasure. The crown prince of Lucis, bounty hunting in his fancy car... Surely you didn't think it'd go unnoticed-at least not by this reporter? Lucky for you, this reporter has integrity. If you wanna remain incognito, I'll respect your wish...in exchange for a favor."

Noctis glared at him and kept himself from lashing out in anger at the man's threat. "What do you want?"

"Hey, I knew you'd come around!" Dino cheered. "Lemme see your map."

Reluctantly, the prince hands over the map. Dino pulls out a pen from his pocket and circles an area on the map. Putting the pen away, he handed the map back to Noctis. "Marked where you need to go on your map. All you gotta do is find me some rough gemstones-like this one. Do this, and your ship'll come in. Don't, and the papers'll run you outta town. Capisce?"

(Y/n) stared Dino down as the boys walked away. She didn't blink, which frightened him slightly. Although he was trying to hide his emotions behind a mask, she could tell from his silver gaze he would never truly blow Noctis' cover.

Satisfied with her analysis, she let out a final squeak before flying off to rejoin the others. She caught up with them just as they were stepping off the boardwalk. She wound up crash-landing on Noctis' head. She hung limply from his head with a faint huff. The prince tensed slightly when she collided with his head, but this wasn't the first time she's done so. He grabbed her small body and held her at eye level a few inches from his face. "Don't think I didn't see you with that reporter. You on his side now?"

Outstretching her front paws, (Y/n) made sure her sable claws were retracted before placing her paws on Noctis' cheeks. She squeaked, tapping her soft paws against his face lightly. A smile blossomed on the prince's face. He couldn't help but find her actions adorable. "Yeah, I know you would never betray us. You and Specs are attached at the hip."

The skvader climbed across Noctis' arm the moment he released her. She perched herself on his shoulder as he entered the backseat of the Regalia. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto followed suit and it wasn't long before they left Galdin Quay to find what Dino requested.

Not far down the road, Ignis pulled the car over to the shoulder and parked. Everyone stepped out of the vehicle and followed Noctis up a stony path. They crossed over a rocky overhang that spanned across the road below. The prince, along with (Y/n) who was still on his shoulder, carefully examined the map before putting it away.

Eventually, they reach an outcrop where they find an enormous bird slumbering. It ruffled its feathers in its sleep, burying its beak against its puffed out chest. Prompto gasped at the sight of the immense beast. "Oh em gee. We're supposed to get near that thing?"

"Pipe down before you wake it up," Gladio hissed just above a whisper.

Crouching, Noctis took the lead and carefully maneuvered around the bird. The others were close behind him, eyes focused on the creature as they held their breath. (Y/n) flattened her small form against the prince's shoulder as they circled around the front of the bird. She could sense just how powerful it was due to its size alone.

Successfully making it past the zu, Noctis stalked over towards a mineral deposit. He grabbed one of the loose pieces of garnet stone and put it into his pocket. He glanced at (Y/n) from the corner of his eye once receiving a soft squeak in response to being able to find and secure what Dino wanted. "Better get it back to him," he whispered to her. She nodded her head in response.

Turning around, Noctis proceeded back the way they came. Ignis was by his side as they rounded around the zu. Unfortunately, the large bird was awoken by a seemingly unknown force. It unfurls its wings, flapping them as hard as it could and creating a powerful gust of wind. (Y/n) dug her claws into Noctis' jacket in a desperate attempt to keep herself from being blown away. Morosely, it wasn't enough. Her small body was sent sailing through the air as the zu took off.

Luckily, Ignis was close by and saw what happened. He snatched her body out of the air and held her close. He loosened his grip on her after the wind died down and the bird was out of sight. "Off it goes..."

Noctis inhaled deeply to calm his racing heart. "Oh, we made it out alive."

"Barely. I seriously thought we were at journey's end," Prompto whimpered.

"But that feat was fit for a king," Gladio commented.

"We've acquired what we came for. Time to return to Galdin," the advisor said. He released (Y/n) and watched her fly around without the fear of being blown away. She went ahead of the boys and returned to the Regalia.

Prompto had also been watching her until she vanished from sight. "You're not scared she'll fly off and never return, Iggy?"

"Not in the slightest," the tactician answered without hesitation. "The bond we share is unquestionable."

"In other words, you both like each other so much you stick together," Gladio smirked with a chuckle.

""Like" is not a plausible word to describe the bond between (Y/n) and I," Ignis corrected the shield. "What we share is far beyond "like"."

"Just saying how I see it."

The advisor's eyes narrowed at him. He wanted to question him, but he walked off before he could. With a sigh, he shook his head and followed after his friends.

During the car ride back to Galdin Quay, (Y/n) was in the backseat with Noctis and Gladio. Descending the windy road leading to their destination, she shoved her head into the prince's pocket, startling him. "H-Hey, (Y/n)!" Looking down, he saw her head pop out of his pocket with the fragment of garnet in her mouth. He wondered what she was going to do with it until he watched her fly out of the car and towards Galdin Quay. "Someone's impatient..."

The skvader was indeed impatient. She was eager to relax on the beach and that would only happen as soon as she could sneak away from the group and transform. She thought delivering the garnet to Dino herself would speed up the process. Why? She wasn't exactly sure.

Landing on the bench beside Dino, she placed the stone down and nudged it towards him with her nose. He picked it up, examining it closely to ensure it was what he asked for. A mix between a smirk and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Would yous look at that? Just what I asked for!" He immediately got to work creating his newest piece of jewelry. (Y/n) watched in amazement as he turned the small stone into a beautiful bracelet with what supplies he had with him. Once he was done, he admired his craftsmanship. "Gotta say, this is my best piece so far."

Just then, the boys arrived. Dino reveals his newest creation to them and handed it to Noctis. "Nice work, kid! Sorry for giving you such a hard time. I just had to get my hands on this, even if it meant blackmail. You understand, don't ya? Y'see, I'm a reporter by day, and an amateur jeweler by night. This elusive little beauty's gonna become a masterpiece. To make it up to you, I'll share a little scoop. That special coin you got-it commemorates the Oracle's ascension. That guy was tossing 'em out to everyone. Musta picked 'em up back in Niflheim. And speaking of freebies, here's one from me. Come back if you wanna buy more!"

Ignis eyed the fine piece of jewelry as Noctis accepted it from Dino. "I doubt a souvenir like that could make its way into the hands of an ordinary citizen."

"Well, it's our pocket change now," Prompto commented.

"As promised, I'm in the process of securing your ferry tickets right now. Told ya, I'm a man of integrity. Should be smooth sailing from here, so lemme know when you're ready to ship out," Dino stated.

The prince crossed his arms. "We've been ready."

"Guess I should've expected that," the reporter cackled. "The ship won't arrive 'til tomorrow! How 'bout you find a place to spend the night?"

Prompto glanced around at his friends. "Do we even have the money to spend the night?"

"We could always go camping instead," the brute spoke up.

"We do have the funds to secure a hotel room. Although, it will be the only one for a while until we procure more funds," Ignis explained.

"No way I'm camping if we can afford a hotel room," Noctis said. "You guys go do that. I'm gonna do some fishing."

"Can't let His Highness go alone," Gladio stated. "I'll go with you."

"Me too!" Prompto waves his hand in the air. "I wanna take pictures of the beach!"

"Then (Y/n) and I shall make arrangements," the advisor informed the others. Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto left the docks to head to the beach. Ignis and (Y/n) headed towards the rooms available inside the restaurant and paid 10,000 gil for one. They entered the large, beautiful room where the spirit changed forms. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds before flopping down on her back. Her (h/c) locks fanned out across the sheets as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Feeling enervated?" Ignis questioned as he had been watching her.

"A little," she confessed. "Sleeping has been difficult to do ever since we left the city. Even napping is difficult."

"Something plagues your mind?" He inquired.

"Nothing like that, but..." The sapphire-eyed girl sat up. She placed her hands in her lap, staring at the floor. "I hear a voice in my sleep, and even sometimes when I'm awake. I've tried to push it aside as nothing, but something tells me I need to listen. Maybe I'm finally going crazy."

"Shall we investigate this voice?"

She shook her head. "No, don't worry about it." Standing up, she walked over to the windows, which made up one entire wall of the room. She admired the beautiful, glistening ocean for some time. She then focused on her reflection in the window. Alongside herself, she saw Ignis sitting down in one of the chairs. He was flipping through the book that held all his recipes. With a huff, she spun around. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked towards the door.

Ignis looked up the moment she strolled past him. Looking over his shoulder, he called out to her. "(Y/n), where are you heading?"

"The beach. I've been dying to relax ever since we first came here. It'll also help me sort out my thoughts," the guardian replied.

"What of the others?"

"They won't know it's me." She opened the door. "I'll be back soon, Iggy."

Stepping out of the room, she closed the door behind her. Walking through the Mother of Pearl, she could already feel eyes on her as she sauntered by many people. She tried her best to ignore the stares, knowing not many people have seen a guardian due to their scarcity. She clamped a hand over the sapphire gemstone embedded in her chest. She held her breath and sped up her pace so she could reach the exit quicker.

(Y/n) exhaled heavily. She dropped her hand from her chest the moment she was walking across the long boardwalk. She thought she was in the clear, but her eyes widened when she saw Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto were already on their way back. She thought they would've been gone longer. Pushing her thoughts aside, she looked away from them and prayed to the Astrals they would simply stroll past her. However, her prayer went unanswered. The moment her eyes locked with Prompto's, her body tensed. She immediately looked away and continued walking. As she walked past the blonde, she did force herself to look back at him and offer a kind, shy smile.

What she didn't see was Prompto's wide-eyed expression. His jaw was unhinged, hanging in disbelief. He nearly dropped his camera because of the shock he was in. Gladio also took notice of (Y/n), not recognizing who she was. He crossed his arms with a smirk as his eyes watched her head to the beach. "Now there's a woman."

Wondering who his friends were staring at, Noctis looked at the guardian. Just by looking at her, he could feel a sense of familiarity but pushed it aside since he didn't recognize her. He looked away and saw Prompto and Gladio still had their eyes focused on her. "Why're you guys staring?"

"Dude, are you seriously that blind?" Prompto gasped. "We just came across another goddess! That's two in two days!"

"If you're so interested, go talk to her."

"M-Me?"

Gladio smacked him on the back. "Go for it, pipsqueak. If you fail, I'll take over."

"I'll try...."

Meanwhile on the beach, (Y/n) took her heels off and walked across the sand. She didn't mind the sand sticking to the bottom of her tights since she could easily brush it off later. She admired the lapping waves and the various fish swimming around. The salty breeze blew through her (h/c) locks, a sensation she came to enjoy. Even the sun's warmth against her skin felt different. She wasn't sure what it was about the beach that made the sensation different from anywhere else.

A few peaceful minutes ticked by before (Y/n)'s attention was drawn by a small 'click' and a flash. Looking to her left, she saw Prompto with his camera raised. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing him. She could even see the faint blush on his cheeks, not sure if it was from the sun or embarrassment.

"I-I'm so sorry!" He quickly apologized. "I-I should've asked before taking your picture."

The guardian smiled, desperately trying to suppress her shyness. Morosely, she wasn't successful. "I-It's okay. Is, um...is there something I can help you with?"

The boy shook his head. "N-No, I just thought y-you were really beautiful and it's my job a-as a photographer to capture everything beautiful."

Her smile widened at his pure heart. "That's very sweet of you."

Prompto quickly looked away, his blush deepening. "S-Sorry to bother you."

Before she could reply, he stormed off. She watched him run all the way to the Mother of Pearl, blinking in surprise at how fast he was sprinting. She hadn't expected Prompto to say such a kind, sweet thing to her. Now it was going to be awkward when she would introduce herself to him and the others in the near future.

Sighing, she combed her slightly disheveled hair behind her ears. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, listening to the waves as they lapped against the white sand of the beach. Just like before, her blissful moment was cut short when sensing the presence of another. This time, she was all-too-familiar with the presence and knew who it was before even looking. "Come to join me, Iggy?" Turning her head, she met his emerald gaze. Unlike with Prompto, she didn't stutter. Ignis was the only person she wasn't shy around because of how long they'd been together.

"I have," the strategist answered. "Although under false pretenses."

(Y/n) looked off in the distance and saw Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio watching them closely from the parking lot. They were trying to hide themselves behind one of the vehicles parked. "Oh, no... Is this their plan?"

"More of Gladio's than Noct's or Prompto's."

She placed her heels in the sand. "Is this another bet to see if you can get a woman?" It wouldn't have been the first time the boys had forced Ignis to speak to a woman to see if he did have any charm.

He pinched in the bridge of his nose. "Indeed..."

(Y/n) reminisced in the many memories she's made with him. "Now that I think about it, you never did bring home anyone. I know you're really serious about your dedication to Noctis, but that doesn't mean you don't have time for your own life. Your happiness matters, too."

Ignis casted his gaze to the ocean. He already knew why he hadn't brought home anyone, not even during his high school years. While he had been occupied with juggling school and his duties to the Crown, he always found time for himself in order to keep his sanity in check. Unlike many people his age who were bringing home a special someone, he didn't have to go search for someone who captured his heart. The young woman beside him already captivated his heart without her knowing. He'd been infatuated with her for many years now, but he kept his true feelings bottled up. He was frightened she wouldn't want him in return and even if she did, he was worried he couldn't commit himself fully to the relationship being the advisor of the prince. He didn't want her to feel as if she came second because of his duties.

What Ignis didn't know was that she already felt second in his heart. Ever since formally becoming Noctis' advisor, she was no longer first in his world. She was placed on the back-burner, knowing her life wasn't as important as Noctis'. In her mind, she was disposable. The prince wasn't. Just like Ignis, (Y/n) kept her deepest emotions buried in the darkest corner of her heart. She admired his conviction to his position, not angered in the slightest when she was no longer the most important person to him.

"Ignis?" The guardian gently called out his name after a prolonged silence.

The advisor reconnected his gaze with hers. "Yes?"

"You will find your own happiness, won't you?"

"I will in due time. As should you, (Y/n)."

She didn't care about her own happiness, only his. Faking a convincing smile, she nodded. "I'm sure I will find that special someone soon." It was a bitter lie on her tongue. She clutched the hem of her dress, bunching up the fabric before releasing it. Bending down, she grabbed her heels. Her eyes drifted over to the other boys, smirking slightly when seeing their flabbergasted expressions. "I think we can safely assume you win this bet. Make sure Gladio pays his dues. I'll see you back in the hotel room." She went to walk past him, but stopped. She decided to add a little spice to the mix and kissed him on the cheek. With a prideful smirk, she glanced one last time towards the trio hiding behind a car. "That'll give them something to talk about."

Ignis watched (Y/n) as she slipped on her heels and left the beach. He placed a hand on his hip, remembering how soft her lips were against his cheek. She'd kiss him like that many times before, but this time it felt different. He wasn't sure why, though. From where he stood on the beach, he could hear Prompto's wails of disbelief. He could hear him complaining about how he was able to score a kiss on a cheek from the girl before she left. His own smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but it never came to fruition. (Y/n) truly did stir up the pot with such a simple action. Now, he would have to spin a tale to prevent the others from figuring out who she truly was.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #ignis scientia x reader

[omiscurls]

night sky - atsumu miya x reader

the volleyball player you're gonna be falling for today: miya atsumu

word count: 3900

summary quote: "See, Angel Eyes, there are some things that cannot be whispered, some feelings too strong to be degraded to the level of being silent."

and lets go!

***

"You were very endearing while you were half asleep, you know that?" he laughed, touching your nose with the tip of his cold finger. Your body shook, freezing a bit when the train door opened, and the icey night air flooded the inside. The girls' school uniform, mostly the skirt, surely wasn't designed for such weather conditions as the november nights provided.

"What time is it?" you just asked, still sleepy from the nap you took on his shoulder.  

"Six thirty" he laughed quietly, putting you head back where it was previously resting. You didn't mind at all, after all, he was comfortable. "We're getting off in eight minutes, so try not to sleep" You nodded slightly, watching the city landscape change in a matter of seconds just outside the dirty window in front of you. The raindrops were creating lively patterns on the glass, changing every now and then due to the blowing wind. Kobee's lights were already on, because, as it was november, six thirty was already a mid-night hour. You looked around the smelly train, noticing only few people left, as the route was already coming towards it's last stop. You noticed two people you knew from school, going home as well, altough it seemed they were not riding together, as they both listened to music with headphones in.  

You growled, pouting, when it was finally time to leave the warm train and walk four blocks home. At least you got your boyfriend with you, because walking alone in such darkness would definitely scare you, though you would never say that to his face, no, that would boost his ego too much. You smiled unconsciously as he took your hand into his, as if he was worried you'll get lost.

You followed him out of the train and into the station. You lowkey enjoyed the blue light of the the screens, showing which train will arrive next, the people rushing in every possible direction, as Kobee was a huge city, some of them waiting with their suitcases, coffee mugs in their hands, and some just going home with their backpacks, talking on the phone or listening to music. The shops on the main station were already closing down, but you two managed to get to McDonald's and order large fries, which Miya payed for, then insisting for you to eat them, because "he's suddenly not hungry anymore".

It stopped raining, when you finally got out of the train station, and walked into the cold night. He took your hand once more when you finished the fries.

"Ew, yer fingers are all greasy. Omi-kun would've freaked." he joked, glancing at you. You turned red, snapping away from his grip.

"Don't hold them, then, dumbass" you adjusted the scarf on your neck so it covered your cheeks. Like a stubborn kid, he got the hand out of your pocket and intertwined your fingers once more.

"Nah, you're gonna get cold if I don't, and we can't have that, can we, Angel Eyes?" you blushed once more at the nickname, facing away from him, so he doesn't get to satisfied with the impression he caused. All of the sudden he appeared in front of you, smiling widely.

"What's that, Angel Eyes, does the new nickname fluster ya in some kind of way?" You looked at him with pure irritation in your eyes, as he pulled you into a slight hug. "Hey, yer shoulders are shaking, are you cold?" suddenly he didn't sound like a douchebag, but concern took the place of confidence. You stayed silent, really hating to agree, but before you could disagree, he took of his jacket and put it on your shoulders. "Wait" he added, realizing one mistake, he made and took the jacket back for a second, grabbing your schoolbag and piled the strap on the one of his bag, resting it on his arm.

"That's heavy, give it back" you said, trying to reach for his shoulder, as he was way taller.

"Hell no, what sorta boyfriend would that make me?" he grinned, catching your wrist as you were halfway through to reaching your bag, already standing on your toes. "Aaand another point for Miya for blocking that!" he yelled, immitating the TV sport's commentator.

"You're not a blocker, though" you giggled, getting back to a comfortable, standing position.

"Aww, my Angel Eyes remembers what possition I play in? Well don't you deserve the best girlfriend award"

"Only because you never shut up about being the prettiest setter in Japan. And even that opinion is biased" he gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his forehead, as if he were about to faint.

"Well excuse me, I have to win a bet with an old friend of mine from a little village next to Tokyo. AND YOU COULD SUPPORT ME IN DOING SO, YOU KNOW" he pouted way too loud. You just rolled your eyes.

"And hey, I know you always watch me from the first row, I have eyes."

"I watch Osamu"

"Now THAT hurted" he looked at you with theatrical heartbreak in his sight. "You know what, you're walking alone for that" he added, leaving you there, next to the station, disappearing into the night. You laughed, at first, knowing that he still has your bag and has to come back, but then you shivered, feeling the cold wind against your bare skin, and remembered that he wanted to give you his jacket. You knew he was probably around the corner, waiting to scare you as you were walking around in search for him, so you decided to look.

But the longer you kept going back and forth around the fifteen metre distance he could possibly walk, there was no sight of him anywhere.

"Cool, Miya, now would you please get out? Or else I'm walking home!" you shouted, hoping that would get him to come out of his hiding spot, but you received no response. You held your arms against your chest to keep warm.

You heard footsteps behind you, and turned around, relieved, actually, that he'd came back.

"Finally, you dumba-" you didn't finish your sentence, noticing the person behind you wasn't Atsumu.

"What're you doing out here, freezing alone?" you heard the boy in front of you ask, but you were too distracted by his sudden appearance to respond.

You knew that boy, you knew him damn well, he was one of your closest friends, growing up, but then moved, because his father worked for the army and have to reposition every few years.

"Sato-kun? What're you doing here?" you asked in shock, looking at the boy you had seen for the last time around 4 years before, now standing in front of you, all grown up, so much, in fact, that you barely recognized him.

"Hello to you too, honey" he smiled, hugging you. You felt slightly uncomfortable, not liking to be touched by strangers, but then you remembered he wasn't a stranger. He was a guy that knew you to the bone since diapers.

But also the guy who then promised to keep in touch and disappeared from your life completely.

"Now would you mind explaining what're you doing here alone?"

"Oh, uhm, I am actually not-" you tried to explain, tilting your head around, searching for that idiot, Atsumu, but again, he was nowhere to be found.

"You do seem alone, though. Who would leave you here?" he said with a polite smile, but even so started to get on your nerves. You were not some pretty doll to be LEFT somewhere, what if you were just waiting for someone to show up?

"Well, it's a long story" you replied, but he insisted on keeping the conversation going.

"Mind telling me over a walk home? I do know where you live, obviously." You were still in too much shock to turn him down, mixed feelings flowing in and out of your head.

"Sato-kun, I am really interested in knowing your side of how the last 4 years have passed, but I am really with somebody right now" you answered, but noticed something else got his attention, like he was looking just above your shoulder.

You suddenly felt arms tie around your neck in an embrace, and felt someone bending over to match your level. The cologne you smelled was so iconic you'd recognize it from a mile away.

That idiot finally came back.

"Hi there, buddy!" he smiled politely, resting his chin on your shoulder. Considering the height difference, that must've been really uncomfortable, but what wouldn't Atsumu Miya do for a good first impression.

"Hi!" Sato responded, also smiling, but now less vividly than he did a while ago. "Who're you to lean over her like that?" he added, and the sound of possesiveness in his voice freaked you out. He wasn't in a position to say that, he left you here for four whole years.

"Oh I?" you boyfriend broke the embrace in order to straighten up and walk over to your childhood friend. It was safe to say he was at least fifteen centimetres taller. "Miya Atsumu" he said with such fake sweetness in his voice, that you couldn't help but smile a bit. "And do you mind explaining who you're to tell me I can't hug my girlfriend?" he scratched the back of his head, smiling from ear to ear, looking absolutely adorable, except from the fact that you and Sato were both scared to death. The taller boy reached out to Sato, wanting to shake his hand.

"Miya? Are you the spiker or the setter?" he asked, gripping Miya's hand. "See my brother plays volleyball and I think they've played against you on-"

Atsumu didn't let him finish. First he turned his head back to look at you with a pitiful expression in his eyes, then back to the boy.

"Did he now? I think I would've remembered seeing a face just as annoying as yours on the other side of the net" he laughed, patting his shoulder in a true "big brother" style. "I appreciate the recognition, I really do, but I have many people knowing my name on a daily basis, you know. Let's talk about you, instead!"

You were slightly freaked out by Atsumu's sudden sarcasm and bitterness, as you weren't used to seeing him... jelous? Is that how you'd describe it? He was a very confident person so he never got insecure about your relationship. He knew how crazy about him you really were, even if you tried to hide it as much as you could. You also knew about his affection to irritating people, but it was all jokes and nothing serious most of the time, and even if it was, he always managed to be lowkey and funny about it, but now it seemed as if he was dense and really pissed.

Did he have a bad day? Did you fail to ask him? Countless quesitons ran through your head, but you couldn't seem to recall anything like that. After all, what brought you two together was the fact that you always seemed to know what was happening in his head, even when he tried to hide it as much as possible.

"Sato Yakeru" he said, deadly glaring at Atsumu. "But why do you want to know, Miya-kun?" the boy put his hands on his hips, trying to gain back his confidence. "Are you really that insecure about the fact I took three minutes of you girl's precious time?"

This was not the Sato you remembered. That one was a sweet, sure, confident, but still sweet boy who always walked you to your house when you finished your classes, helped you with chemistry and played with your little sister when she interrupted your study dates. He always listened to all your problems, been there through all the ups and the downs and stood up for you whenever you needed that.

But now you've realized, he was always like that. He was always such a chauvinist, wanting to be the prince charming, wanting to rescue you out of any opression there was, but then you didn't mind, you didn't even notice, because you were percisely the little scared girl he wanted. And now that that's changed, he was suddenly irritating. Miya glanced back at you, concerned when he noticed you weariness. He looked Sato up and down with hatred in his eyes. Now, that's a look you hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Now, now" he laughed with pity. "Don't get too full of yourself there, little one" he said reffering to the fact that he was significantly taller than the boy "It takes a lot more than just a pipsqueak like you to make me loose my composure"

He came back to you taking both your cold hands into his.

"Was that boy bothering you, Angel Eyes? Do you know him?" you looked him deep in the eyes only to find him trying to mask his obvious irritation by acting calmly. You hesitated before answering, not wanting to deteriorate his mood even more.

"That's actually my childhood friend, 'Tsumu. I was just suprised to find out he was back in town"

He nodded, facing away from you, as if he was trying to calm down for real before letting you look into him again.

"What, didn't she tell you about me? Aw, that sucks, man" Sato laughed under his breath.

"What was that, munchkin? Couldn't hear ya." he smirked, proud of the childish insult. Once, you hear Osamu say that Atsumu's mental age decreases for about five years when he plays. Well, it decreases for seven when he gets angry. "Alright, honey, take the jacket now, you're trembling" Miya added much calmer, putting the fabric on your shoulders and adjusting it a bit so it covers the front of your body as well. You loved how big it was on you, you could literally fit your arm twice in those long sleeves of his. "Anything in particular ya want to do, or should we just head home?

You raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was getting at. You already agreed to go to your place and just chill, since it was friday, why was he asking now? And then, looking at the mixed expression painted across his face, you realized, he tried to show the other boy how different than him he truly is. You couldn't help but laugh.

How childish.

"Let's go, I'm getting tired" you responded, standing up on your toes, trying to match his eye level, knowing how much he adored that.

"Aight, we'll be going then. Pleased to meet ya, Sato-kun. Hope I'll never get the opportunity to speak to your annoying little face again." When you two walked passed the boy, he patted his shoulder. You heard giggling behind you.

"Fine then, short stuff,  if you want to go somewhere and catch up this weekend, call me!" Yakeru shouted, already going his own way.

You froze upon hearing the nickname you've been called by him so many times in the past, and suddenly tears formed in your eyes, coming along with the memories you forgot you had.

"She won't!" Miya yelled back, putting his arm around your shoulder. You instinctly rested your head against his body.

Silence fell upon you two, nobody wanted to start the conversation, and to be honest, you already moved on from that little, ridiculous fight, and were now dwelling in your own thoughts, remembering all the happy times with Sato, back when you were kids and life was simpler.

"Short stuff, really? Out of all nicknames?" Atsumu finally said, out of nowhere, faking laughter. "It's the lack of creativity for me"

You didn't respond, barely even hearing him speak.

"I mean, it was obvious the guy was all pure vanilla and no flavour, but still, pathethic." he went on "And the nerve of this dude! Would ya believe? Who is he now, your prince charming coming to the rescue? Since when?" Atsumu started to get really worked up over something he should pay exactly zero shits to, but you chose not to interrupt him, afraid your voice will break, which was highly likely, judging from the tears, still present in your eyes. "Hey, Angel Eyes, shouldn't ya be telling me to shut up by now?"

He suddenly stopped walking, lifting your cheek with his finger, and noticed the little wet mark going across your cheek. Now quiet and worried, he wiped of it off, turning you around to be facing him directly.

"What's up?" he just asked, not knowing how to react. You were always the one to calm him down, not the other way around.

"Nothing's up, can we keep walking? I feel bad about you freezing without your jacket, I'll make you tea"

"I'm counting on that, but first stop with the bullshit and tell me" never once had he even sworn around you, so you guessed that he was still angry, even though he was being kind of supportive.

"It's just that... Oh, it's stupid. Forget it." You started walking again, causing him to have to run up to you.

"It's not stupid, come on. Was that guy bad memories?" he frowned, walking backwards to keep eye contact with you. You didn't respond.

"Or was it me? Did I overreact? Are you mad?" damn, you really didn't think you could shake him this much just by not reacting to what he was saying. You had trouble remembering when was the last time he ask if it was him that made you upset.

"No, nothing like that." you finally decided he'll blow up if you kept on staying silent. "That pathethic nickname you're so stressed about, it just brought up the version of him I'd much rather remember, instead of this <I'm a nice guy> piece of crap I've witnessed today."

Shock came across his face, hearing you get upset like that. He stayed silent for a while, going back to walking by your side, and not in front of you.

"So, uhm... is that why I never heard of him?" he asked quietly, it was almost a whisper. You glanced at him and noticed he was looking away, probably hiding how much it must've costed him to skip his pride and ask that. You took his hand in a reassurring gesture, finding that his fingers were pressed hard against the inside of the hand, so hard his knuckles were probably white by now. It took you a bit to untangle that, but he finally let you hold his hand, still not looking.

"No. I was just trying to forget that guy." your level of voice matched his, giving the conversation an intimate vibe.

"Why?"

"Well, he was my best friend all my life, but then moved away and cut me off, even though he promised never to do that" you kept staring at the pavement, holding back the wave of emotions.

"Was he always such a prick?" you giggled, hearing the noticeable accent on the word "prick". Miya looked at you and smiled as well. "What, does the word <prick> amuse ya? What're ya, five?"

You kept laughing even louder.

"What? What did I say?" he broke into laughter watching your eyes light up, but a clueless expression still decorated his face.

"Remind me why do I love you again, you brat?" you mumbled between bursts of uncontrollable giggling.

Something suddenly held you back from walking. You turned back to see Atsumu, staying still, pure shock in his eyes, red colouring his cheeks. He kept glaring at you as if you just came back from the dead.

"What is it?" you asked, holding back the amusement, still smiling widely.

"You... do?"

For a short while you didn't understand what he was reffering to, but when you finally got it, it shocked you as well.

Did you really just...? Was it really the first time? You knew that for so long it felt as if you'd already said it a thousand times before.

"Oh god, sorry, sorry, forget I said anything" you apologized, remembering his fear of commitment. You broke the grasp and started walking fast, but heard a loud "no wait!" behind you.

Miya managed to catch up with you and put both his hands on your shoulders.

"Wait, just... do you really...?" what, couldn't he say it? Didn't he feel the same way? Why would he be with you for so long if he didn't? Were you just a playtoy? Really, you wouldn't be suprised, judging by the stereotypes going around about him, but you really hoped you guys were different than that.

"I'm sorry if that's a bother to you" you said, tears forming in the corners of your eyes again. You heard him laugh almost histerically.

"God no, it's not, Angel Eyes, how could you think that?" he lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, but you faced away. He shook his head in disbelief, pulling you into a tight hug. You suddenly felt at home, burying your face into his t-shirt, smelling the cologne you so liked.

You didn't want that moment to end. Whatever he had to say, you were now sure it wasn't positive and you didn't want to think of him any different than right then and there: as you precious little saltshaker of a boyfriend who was unbearable to be around for most of the time, but you still adored every single word that came out of his mouth and loved him alltogether so much it hurted your brain to process it.

He probably felt his shirt becoming wet, though, because he leaned over just a bit, to be able to whisper something in your ear. You clenched your fists, waiting for the inevitable.

"Well if that's the case... then that makes all my previous possesiveness out of place, doesn't it?"

You didn't say anything back, not really knowing how, but you were sure, that in an embrace as tight as that one he surely felt your heart jumping out of your chest even more every growing second.

"Hey, Angel Eyes" he then said, pulling away from the hug, and smiling upon seeing your hands still squeezing his shirt, from how much you didn't want to let go. "Relax, I just want to look into those eyes. Also, I don't want to whisper, that's sorta out of character for me, right? See, Angel Eyes, there are some things that just cannot be whispered, some feelings too strong to be degraded to the level of being silent. So I wanted to use my full voice to say — and it's not an easy thing to say, because, ya see, not only did I fall for you, but I am in fact, still falling! And that feeling creeps me out every single day. I guess that's why I was so afraid to tell you this. But I got it now."

He cleared his throat, looked you in the eyes, and put your hair behind your ear, which caused you to shake, due to his fingers being extremly cold.

"I love you to the point where no words are enough."

#atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #atsumu x you #miya atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #anime #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #one shot #fluf #hq fluff #comfortcore #comfort story #comfort series #ff #miya #inarizaki

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #30: Break Me Off

Words: ca. 3,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no CW: none

“Can I try yours?”

Elsa’s head snapped up from the book she was reading to look to her left. Her baby sister was looking expectantly, her small hand outstretched and waiting expectantly, fingers wiggling in a grabby motion.

“Sure,” she answered with a smile, and passed her barely started dark chocolate KitKat on to Anna. “I don’t think you’ll like it though.”

Anna ignored that statement and immediately put the candy bar in her ‘some teeth missing transition period’ mouth, and bit off a sizable chunk. She chewed for a few seconds before her chocolate-covered lips twisted in a grimace, and she threw the KitKat back in Elsa’s lap.

“Ewww,” she said once she finally swallowed the bite (she at least had the decency to not spit it out like she used to a few years ago, something Elsa could bet would drive their father nuts if she did it in the new car), then gave Elsa the dirtiest look ever. “It’s so bitter! Why are you doing this to yourself…”

The last words were said with an overly-dramatic flair as Anna put her hand up to her forehead and pretended to faint like an old-timey movie lady on an ottoman. Which would work much better if she wasn’t stopped by the seat belt.

“It’s not that bitter to me.” Elsa shrugged as she picked up the discarded KitKat and continued to eat it as if nothing ever mattered. “You just still have a baby palate,” she said around a mouthful.

Anna blew her a raspberry, and her gaze dropped to Elsa’s book. “Whatcha reading anyway?”

Elsa swallowed the KitKat. “Harry Potter.” She flipped the cover to show it to Anna, who immediately started tracing and mouthing the letters of the title. “The fifth part comes out next week, so I wanted to re-read it before then.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Later,” she lowered her voice and glanced in the rear-view mirror at their father’s concentrated face. It wasn’t the best idea to read–and have Anna interrupt with her loud comments–while he was driving. “When we’re settled at the hotel, I’ll read some to you.”

+++

“Hey,” Anna whispered, leaning over the wide armrest so she could reach Elsa’s ear. “You wanna try a bite of mine?”

She offered her the obnoxiously white KitKat, and Elsa immediately took it, as if its glow-in-the-dark properties could be seen by the row behind them. Without thinking much, she chomped down on the half-eaten candy bar. The overwhelming sweetness exploded in her mouth and seemed to coat her tongue with a thick, fatty film.

“You like it?” Anna whispered again, absolutely disinterested in the screen, her eyes locked square on Elsa’s face. “It’s kinda sweet, but I think I dig the white chocolate.”

Fighting through the nausea, Elsa finally managed to push the saccharine mush down her throat. “It’s absolutely disgusting,” she whispered back, then chuckled at Anna’s betrayed face. “I can see why you’d like it.”

Anna opened her mouth to say something (presumably snarky, she was hitting that age) in return, but an angry shhh came up from behind them. Elsa glanced at the people sitting in the back row and mouthed a sorry.

She turned back to the screen and tried to catch up on what she’d missed from the movie. So far The Goblet of Fire was proving to be worse than the previous parts, but she still wanted to know how they managed to work out the lake task of the Triwizard–

When Anna opened her mouth again just a few seconds later, Elsa stuck the white chocolate KitKat in it.

+++

“Hey, tradition!” Anna screamed suddenly as Elsa unwrapped her finals-study-motivation KitKat, almost making her drop it. “Lemme try!”

Elsa blinked. This was just the dark chocolate variety, one that she was sure she’d already let Anna try at some point in her life.

“You already–” But before she could finish, Anna’s shark jaws locked around the still barely unwrapped candy bar in Elsa’s hand with a loud crunch.

She munched for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face as she was considering the flavor. It quickly gave way to a disgusted scowl.

“Ew,” she said with a fake gag. “It’s as bad as I remembered.”

So Elsa did let her try it before. She rolled her eyes and half-heartedly swatted Anna away.

With a devious snicker and a hurried good luck with the exam!, Anna skipped out of the room and left her alone to study.

Elsa shook her head and finally returned her attention to her long-awaited snack award.

For some reason, the sight of Anna’s glitter lip gloss on the dark chocolate made her stomach twist.

+++

KitKats turned out to be the best way to go through her finals that year, and the next semester, and the next next semester, putting in the required fuel, feeling of accomplishment and the calories missing from not having time to eat proper meals.

It was also one of her little pleasures to find and test new flavors, especially those not available locally. It was Anna’s little pleasure to never say she wanted to order some for herself, and instead take bites off of Elsa’s, ‘just in case I don’t like it and don’t wanna finish!’

And over time it was one of Elsa’s little pleasures to look at the print of Anna’s lips on the chocolate and tenderly place hers on top to match the shape.

That little pleasure turned into a major curse when she realized she was daydreaming about placing her lips on Anna’s directly.

From then on, she would only buy the 4 finger breakable Kits.

+++

“I don’t really like this one,” Anna said around a mouthful of the Ruby cocoa KitKat. “It looks super cute, but it just tastes kinda waxy.”

Elsa shrugged. “Honestly, it’s just like the regular, but pink.”

“No, it’s different.” There was no point arguing with Anna on that. While Elsa preferred to try out new flavors, Anna has always been a hardcore true fan and real connoisseur of the regular Kit, so all she could do was to believe the expert. The currently pouting, cutely irritated expert. “Do you wanna finish mine?”

Elsa’s blood froze.

The whole point of the 4 finger Kits (which she personally considered inferior as the ratio of chocolate to wafer was just not quite on par with the single stick) was to not kiss Anna by proxy. Is what she came to call it.

But Anna was holding out the pink KitKat with a darker pink lip gloss outline in her direction, looking at her expectantly.

“N-no, I’m fine,” she answered a little too quickly and in a little too nervous of a voice. “I don’t really like it either,” she lied.

Anna’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said it tastes like the regular to you.”

Elsa could feel herself sweat. Damn, the stupid act of sharing a KitKat, something they’ve done since they were little kids was making her sweat.

Probably precisely because they’ve been doing this since they were little kids. Growing up together. Being sisters. Who should not want to kiss each other, yet there Elsa was, looking away from Anna’s perfect cupid bow glossy lips like a teenager (which she was definitely not anymore, on the final stretch to obtaining her bachelor degree) in love.

Her own lower lip felt numb from biting down on it. Fuck, she was in love.

“Yeah, but you’re right,” she said, mouth dry. She was in love and she was just now realizing this because of a stupid Ruby KitKat. “It is waxy.” Stupidly good Ruby KitKat that she was going to deny herself because her sister’s lips touched it and she would burn in hell if hers did too. “Just toss it out.”

Anna’s face looked like she just told her she actually was planning to vote on Trump for the pure fun of it, but she didn’t say anything.

+++

“Hey, I’m just about to head out– oh is that a new one?”

Elsa almost dropped the half eaten candy bar on the floor. She was not expecting Anna to come in her room any time soon, and like the true disgusting goblin she was, she decided to partake in her secret stash of imported KitKats.

Her dirty little secret stash of single stick KitKats that she couldn’t find in 4 finger format, and thus could not ever, ever let Anna know about because even if she ordered two pieces of each kind Anna would refuse to try an entire bar on her own.

‘I mean, what’s the fun in that? Half of the joy of KitKats is sharing!’

Not really seeing any way out of that, Elsa admitted defeat. “…Yes.”

“Oh, cool!” Anna bounced over excitedly to drop down on the bed next to her. “Oooh, white chocolate and peach? So fancy! Is it from Japan? It looks about the size of the Japanese ones I saw online…”

Her pure, genuine excitement only made Elsa feel even worse about hiding in her room like Gollum with his ring. Then, right as she was reaching for Elsa’s KitKat, Anna’s face and hand suddenly dropped.

“Wait…”

Elsa gulped.

“…you… you were going to eat it without me, weren’t you?”

She focused on the pattern of her carpet.

“Oh my god, Elsa! You stinker!” Anna sounded full-on betrayed, and Elsa could honestly not blame her for that. “I thought KitKats were our thing!”

Elsa blushed, for many different reasons. “I-it’s not like that,” she started explaining herself, fully aware of how pathetic she sounded. “It’s just cause you never want a full KitKat of a new flavor and I couldn’t find them in the sharing format–”

“So? I didn’t know we were suddenly only allowed to share the break-apart ones.”

Elsa sighed. Right, to Anna it didn’t make any sense, because Anna was a normal person who didn’t fantasize about kissing her sister. Or flustered about indirectly kissing her. “I-it’s just easier to portion…”

“I’m pretty good at portioning a bite, thank you very much.” She still sounded a little miffed, but she did smile towards the end– right before her eyes turned very round and glistening. “Did you eat many without me?”

Holy shit, she was looking like the pleading emoji and Elsa was at her wit’s end. “No!” she denied quickly and truthfully. “I-I bought more, but this was the first one I was going to try…”

Anna crossed her arms.

“Aaand now that you know about it I guess there’s no point hiding,” Elsa continued sheepishly. “I’ll uh– I’ll go to the kitchen and cut you off a piece.”

She stood up quickly, holding the KitKat like a relay sprinter holds the baton, clinging on for dear life with the prospect of glory and escaping the rivals, or in this case escaping her sister before she could–

“Wait.” Anna’s hand was on her wrist and Elsa almost yelped. The rivals outran her and the finish line was nowhere in sight as she fell on her knees, defeated, and only metaphorically speaking as in real life she was just standing stiff in her place. “What? Just let me take a bite, it’s easier–”

“N-no,” she interrupted quickly, trying to pry the wrist away from Anna’s surprisingly strong grip. “Cause, uh– umm, that way I can make sure to cut in the middle and give you a fair share.”

Yes, that was a splendid save.

“I just want a bite, I’m not sure if I would like a whole half.” And a gloriously crushing response from the opponent. “Just let me–”

Her peach pink lip gloss would look amazingly fitting on the white chocolate and peach KitKat. Or on Elsa’s lips. Applied with her lips. On her lips. Kissing–

“No!” She yanked her hand away. Anna’s eyebrows shot up in shock, and Elsa realized she yelled that very loudly, even though she was mostly responding to her own dirty little secret thoughts. “I mean– I don’t wanna…”

What? What was she supposed to say to get out of this? There was literally no logical reason she could not be wanting to simply share the KitKat like they used to for so many years, aside from the obvious plague that was currently rotting her mind, but she could not tell Anna that–

“…are you disgusted by me?”

She said it in such a small voice, looking up from where she was sitting on Elsa’s bed with hands folded neatly in her lap, her big teal eyes glazed with a sheet of tears and Elsa’s heart broke into a thousand shards.

“Oh god, no!” Her hands moved on their own to grab Anna and pull her into a hug, but she stopped herself on the way, now with her hands awkwardly hovering at Anna’s eye level. “Why… no, I’m so sorry you would even think that, I–”

“Then what is it, Elsa?”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck shit fuck what was she–

“Just say it,” she damn near sobbed. “Out loud.”

“Your lip gloss,” she said in a flat voice, grasping at straws to not lie, but also not tell the truths. “It stays on the KitKat when you bite it.”

Anna’s eyes went wider. “You don’t like my lip gloss?”

Why the fuck was she sounding this hurt by the idea? “No, I–”

“I thought you said it looks good…”

“It does!” She could clearly feel herself getting flustered. “I like it, and it looks very good on your li– on you. Really good.” God, was she sounding as borderline creepy to Anna as she did to herself? “B-but it leaves a– a stencil of your lips on the…”

She trailed off, not really sure how to get out of the corner she just talked herself into.

Anna gave her a puzzled look. “So you don’t like… my lips?”

“No!” Jesus why was communication so difficult and why was the room so hot and why was Anna looking at her like this? “I love them. Like! I like them. I like. Them. Your lips. Like them.”

If Anna got up and called the ambulance right now because ‘my sister is having a stroke!’ Elsa would find it completely justified.

“Ookay…” Anna said slowly, not reaching for the phone, and instead continuing to try to read Elsa’s face (but what she could potentially read was that inside Elsa’s head there was a wind-up monkey puppet playing the cymbal, and nothing much beside that.) “So what is the problem?”

Elsa mumbled in response.

“I’m sorry?”

“It feels like we’re kissing,” she said weakly, absolutely giving up on her hopes and dreams in that instance. “When I bite the KitKat.”

Anna blinked at her. “That’s it?”

Elsa nodded.

“I mean, that’s all?”

It was Elsa’s turn to wear a confused expression.

“You’ve been getting only breakable KitKats for a year just so you could share with me without feeling like this?”

Elsa nodded again, albeit cautiously. She had no idea where Anna was going with this.

“And denying yourself flavors that don’t exist in that format so that I wouldn’t feel left out?”

Nod again.

“I’m sorry.”

Record scratch. “What? No, why are you sorry?”

“Because you were feeling uncomfortable because of me?”

“No, I– I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable knowing I want to kiss you.”

Wait, no– oh no no no no holy fuck no backtrack backtrack backtrack–

Her stomach sunk. There was no way to backtrack.

Red alert, escape the room.

Anna caught her hips before she could dash for the door and spun her around to face her again, this time meeting her at eye level. She reached for Elsa’s hand–which was currently hanging limply at her side, and still holding the goddamned half-eaten KitKat–and clasped it gently in hers, then brought it up until it was between them, right in front of Elsa’s mouth.

The scent of peach and white chocolate hit her before her brain registered the development.

“Bite,” Anna said softly, but with demand. “And hold.”

Elsa’s mouth opened on its own as her sister pushed the KitKat in, and obediently she clamped her teeth down on it–just enough to break the chocolate layer, but not all the way through.

She stood there patiently with the candy bar sticking out of her mouth, watching Anna remove the remaining wrapper as if her body was not hers to steer, as if she was just a passive observer as her mind was struggling to pick the pieces of what her sister was doing without going for what she really wanted Anna to be doing in her heart of hearts.

Once the wrapper was off, Anna climbed on her tiptoes and– Elsa could swear she saw her smirk right before the free end of the KitKat disappeared in Anna’s mouth, slowly, until their lips finally touched.

Their lips touched.

She was kissing her sister.

She was kissing her sister around a fucking candy bar.

And in just a few heartbeats she heard the tell-tale, trademark KitKat crunch as Anna’s teeth broke through the wafer, and with a final brush of her glossed lips she was off, leaving behind only a chunk of white chocolate and peach mousse in Elsa’s numb, speechless mouth.

“It looks good on you too,” Anna said with her mouth still full and gaze dashing between Elsa’s lips and eyes. “Bet it would be even better without the melted chocolate.” She swallowed down her bite, and let out a satisfied hum. “Mm, I like this one. Funny how the flavors work together so well… chew, Elsa.”

She brought her hand up to Elsa’s chin and pressed on it, and Elsa mechanically picked up the chewing motion, earning a delighted smile from her sister.

Anna glanced down at her watch. “Well, I gotta go. The sea and beach won’t run away, but my friends just might if I keep them waiting any longer.” She placed a soft, sticky kiss on Elsa’s boiling hot cheek. “But I’m really looking forward to trying the other flavors you got.”

With a wink, she pushed past her and out the door, leaving Elsa to deal with the lump (of KitKat) in her throat.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Epilogue

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Aaand we finally made it to the end! Which is a beginning in many ways. How is it going to go? Beats me, but it probably won't be boring. Also yes, I am just posting a Christmas-themed chapter right before Easter. So sue me. I had a blast writing this one - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

***

“Unionize Hell. You’re telling me we should unionize. Hell.”

“Well, it would be a first step towards giving you some bargaining power. Once demons begin seeing Satan as someone you can bargain with through the sheer force of numbers, it will be easier to convince them they can decide to walk away.”

“This is the single dumbest idea I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Sitting beside Gabriel, Michael stiffened and glared daggers across the table. “If this is how you believe you can address us, we may as well end the meeting--” she began, only to trail off when Gabriel grinned,  resting an elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“That’s blatantly untrue,” he said, still smiling at Beelzebub. “You’d ve heard dumber by far.”

The prince of Hell’s lips curled upwards for the briefest moment. Michael shifted a little on her seat and glanced over at Dagon, who just so happened to be sitting beside Beelzebub for the meeting. She met her gaze briefly, but it was enough for Michael to know she was not the only one to be mighty uncomfortable at the turn Gabriel and Beelzebub’s formerly entirely professional relationship had taken. That was an odd sort of relief. 

Unaware of their second-in-command’s discomfort, or just blatantly ignoring it, Beelzebub let out a thoughtful, buzzing sound. “... Hmph, I suppose I have. But I am ready to be you are not inclined to have the Heavenly host unionize.”

“Ah, actually,you’d lose that bet. We have given the go-ahead.”

The Lord of the Flies blinked. “... You have?”

“Yes. It worked out for my friends back in Southampton, so I figured, why not Heaven?”

Michael briefly wondered if she was supposed to remind Gabriel that Heaven was not precisely the same as a port city on England’s south coast, but in the end she decided against it. She was a warrior, had always been, but a good warrior knows how to pick battles and that was not the hill she was ready to, figuratively speaking, die on. 

Across the table, Beelzebub raised an eyebrow while waving away a few fies “And God is not displeased?”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back on his seat and spreading his arms a little. “I have not been fired yet, and I am taking it as a good sign. I suppose it may create a precedent for angels to leave, if so they wish, on more amicable terms than you did. And possibly with some severance. Who knows, perhaps if you had formed a union in the first place instead of going immediately for full-on rebellion--”

All right, they got sidetracked far enough. “Gabriel,” Michael spoke up.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Apologies. Never mind the past. What I am saying is, it might be a viable path forward now - for beings on either side. Do give it some thought.”

“Mmh.” Beelzebub crossed their arms, leaning back against their seat with a foot braced against the table. To Michael’s surprise - and to Dagon’s utter bewilderment, it seemed - they seemed to be truly giving it some thought. “I suppose that perhaps, this does fall into the ‘so dumb it might just work’ caregory. And it’d make Hell worse for Reagan and Thatcher. I will consider it.” 

“Very well. I do believe that concludes the meeting.” Gabriel said, and smiled. He’d been smiling an awful lot throughout the meeting, and not the kind of insincere business-like smiles he would usually sport on such occasions. 

No, Michael thought, not usually. Before.

“Actually, there’s more we need to discuss,” Beelzebub said, standing. “Privately, if possible.”

“Ah, of course. Right this way. You’re all right wrapping this up, Michael?”

Trying with all her might not to wonder about their private discussion, Michael nodded mechanically. “Of course,” she droned, and busied herself picking up papers once they were gone, trying to ignore the demon who was very much not gone.

“... For the record, the cold shoulder treatment only works if the one receiving it cares about getting the cold shoulder,” Dagon spoke up after a few minutes, filing papers away in a folder she had seemingly summoned out of thin air. “And I do not care.”

And yet you had to remark on that.

Michael let out a snort, choosing not to argue. She hadn’t been trying to remember the being they had known before their rebellion and Falls, or at least not as hard as Gabriel probably wished her to - Sandalphon and Uriel were fairly ahead of her there - but she did have the uncomfortable sensation she had known Dagon, whatever she was called before, quite well.

Awkward, considering she was rather certain it had been her to cast her out.

“Have you had any success in tracking down the Duke of Hell?”

“Hell has a great many Dukes. You will need to be more specific.”

“I believe there is only one who is currently a fugitive,” Michael said, her voice sharper. “Hastur. The one who kille-- who almost-- sort of killed Gabriel.”

“... We lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but I am certain we will catch up with him eventually.”

“Are you always this inefficient?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try catching him yourself,” Dagon snarled, snapping the folder shut. It seemed the perfect moment for her to disappear in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, but she did not; rather, the Lord of the Files seemed to hesitate. Michael had just enough time to wonder if she may have remembered something from before that Michael did not before she finally looked up and spoke again. 

“All right, since we are suddenly supposed to have opinions now, what do you really think of this… entire… thing?”

“You mean, Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plan?”

“Calling it a plan seems more generous than I’ve ever known you to be.”

That was true, Michael had to concede. When she had tried asking Gabriel if there was a plan they should know of, he’d only replied that he was ‘sort of winging it’. It certainly was a complete u-turn from how things used to be, but if he had been brought back and… not yet cast out again over his unorthodox involvement with Beelzebub, there had to be a reason. 

Perhaps whatever he had learned in his time on Earth would be the key to everything. After what she had done to him by blindly following orders, Michael was willing to heed his words now, and so were the others. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would face whatever consequences there may be as one. Never again would she lift a sword on her friends.

“... No, it is not a plan,” she finally said. “I suppose it is more of a leap of faith.”

“Faith in what?” Dagon made a face. “In God?”

Michael did not take the bait. “More in our own ability to figure things out, I suppose.”

“That’s the sort of thing humanity is all about,” the Lord of the Files muttered, and blinked when Michael let out a brief laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is precisely the point. Try being more human.”

“... Have you hit your head? From the beginning of everything, it has always been human who tried to become more like u--” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose as though she had just sunk her fangs into a lemon. “You. More like you. And from the beginning, you have encouraged that.”

“Maybe that is where we went wrong after all.”

A pause. “Are you seriously suggesting it should be you-- us-- to lower ourselves into being more like them? Really?”

“Well. It is what Yeshua did, and perhaps it was a lesson meant for us,” Michael shrugged, and tuned to the door. “After all it was humanity, and not us, to be made in God’s image.”

***

“Oh, look at that. Another wedding invitation.”

“Shadwell and Madame Tracy?”

“How did you guess?”

“They made it abundantly clear during Anathema and Whatshisface’s wedding reception.”

“Ah, fair. Do you think they’ll allow us to take Warlock to their wedding as well? He got on well with the Them, and Madame Tracy has surely invited those children.”

“Can’t see why not. Are you sure they meant to invite us?”

“This is marked for the Serpent of Eden and the Southern Pansy.They did mean to indeed.”

“No clause against witches?”

“Oh, there is. It is to be a witch-free wedding. The only exceptions to the rule are dear Anathema, Adam, the two of us, and the bride herself.”

“You’d think that by now he would have noticed she only has two nipples.”

“Don’t be crass, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think he’ll ever stop thinking we’re witches?”

“Unlikely. And I am not particularly inclined to disrobe and let him count nipples.”

A hiss. “Old fool.”

“An old fool who managed to swindle both of us for a few decades.”

“... Don’t remind me.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, and settled more comfortably in his armchair, setting aside the letters to pick up a book. Wrapped around the back of said armchair, the Serpent of Eden leaned his head on top of Aziraphale’s own. He tended to enjoy inhabiting that form, Aziraphale had found out, when the weather outside was cold and the fireplace was lit. 

Amazing, how many more little things about Crowley he’d found he didn’t know, after so many centuries of… acquaintance. Sharing a home with someone really did lead to a lot of interesting discoveries. For one, he could now see the appeal of laying in a bed and hallucinating behind closed eyelids for a few hours. 

“I could make my entrance in a cloud of Hellfire,” Crowley muttered, tongue flicking against Aziraphale’s hair as he reached to pick up a book. 

“I suspect giving the groom a heart attack would put a damper on the wedding.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“No, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached up to scratch the scales on Crowley’s side. 

He hissed again. “Spoilsport,” he said, but he leaned into the touch all the same. 

“Heh. Either way, we have plenty of time to make plans for the wedding, whereas Christmas is around the corner. Do you have anything in particular in mind, Crowley?”

“You do realize demons don’t really celebrate the birthday of your boss’ son, right?”

“Ah, I suppose that’s fair. But I wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in, perhaps bake some cake,” he said, faintly wondering whether Crowley would object to mistletoe. 

“Oh. Well, then I could help with the tasting, I guess. And-- wait. There are presents, right? Do you want presents?”

 A chuckle “I am rather content as is, but thank you.”

“Ah. Of course,” Crowley seemed to stammer, which was no mean feat considering he currently had a mouth whose anatomy was not meant to utter words in the first place. His head slipped lower, and ended up resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “... You wouldn’t happen to know anything about whatever Heaven’s planning, would you? Things have been… quiet.”

“Not at all. Nor you have the foggiest idea as to what Hell is on to, I’m guessing?”

“Nothing whatsoever. I think I’ll wish them luck and keep it this way.”

Aziraphale smiled, took a sip of wine, and opened his book. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

When he tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of his head, Crowley did not protest.

***

Did you throw out another of your angels?

Not to my knowledge?

You must have. Someone just got through all layers of Hell all the way down to Satan’s lap. Sliding down a pole and singing. What the Heaven is going on up there?

Let me check with Uriel.

***

“Uriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of any angels being cast out? Beelzebub insists someone just got there, and I quote, ‘sliding down a pole’.”

“We have cast out no one. Their security must be really lax. Didn’t they have a similar problem with a poet from Florence at some point?”

“I don’t think that one came in sliding down a pole, but fair.”

***

I can confirm we cast out no one. Must be a mortal.

Wonderful, more paperwork and security checks. Thanks for checking, I guess. At least he seems to be keeping Satan distracted from anything we do.

Dare I ask how?

Don’t.

All right. Have you changed your mind about coming with me to the Christmas party?

Absolutely not. But I will meet you afterwards for carnal relations.

Are you aware that it does not count as a sin and therefore it is not the middle finger to God you think it is?

Are you saying you’re not interested?

No. Usual place?

Usual place. Don’t be late. 

I wouldn’t dare, Gabriel wrote with a smile, and his finger lingered over the send button for a few moments. I love you, he almost wrote, but he did not and in the end he just sent out the message as it was. Beelzebub would have found it both saccharine-inducing and redundant, and for good reason. There was no need to spell it out, really.

They were both very much aware of it.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for usual celebrations?”

“Rather certain, yes. My former colleagues on Earth invited me to join them so long ago, it would be rude for me to cancel on them.”

“Yeshua might actually show up this year.”

“Ah, I am doubtful. He never did attend his birthday party, did he now?”

That was true, although not something any of them had really felt entitled to comment on. Sandalphon knew that Gabriel had taken it… not quite as a slight, but close enough. After all, the celebration was about a birth whose annunciation he was most widely known for.

Now, on the other hand, he seemed too taken with the idea of celebrating it on Earth to be bothered in the slightest. “... I suppose he didn’t,” Uriel conceded. Gabriel closed the drawer with the last of his work for the calendar year, straightened his tie, and smiled. 

“Why don’t you come with me? You could use getting to know more humans, too.”

Both Michael and Sandalphon blinked. Uriel raised an eyebrow. “To celebrate Yeshua’s birthday on Earth with them?”

“Why not? I am sure they won’t mind if I bring some friends. And you could use a break, Uriel. You’ve been working on reorganizing the lower spheres for months now.”

“You know I do not get tired,” Uriel informed him, but she was already glancing over at Michael and Sandalphon. 

In the end, it was Michael to shrug. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be interesting to see how the celebrations have changed since last time I took a look. They were not precisely cheerful, back then.”

“... When was the last time you did check?”

“Sometimes in the mid-fourteenth century,” she replied, and Gabriel laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ah,” he said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

***

“... And this is why it’s either panettone or pandoro, and anyone claiming not to take a side is  coward and a liar, and--”

Fabrizio rambled on, clearly rather satisfied to have finally found an attentive listener in Sandalphon, and Gabriel chose not to interrupt him. Somewhere at the other side of the room, Łukasz was staring in absolute disbelief as Uriel drank the twenty-second shot in a row without seemingly feeling any effects, and he might just be starting to fall in love. 

As he stepped towards the door and passed by a table, Gabriel chuckled. “Go easy on them,” he muttered, and Michael just raised an eyebrow at him, effortlessly beating yet another warehouse worker at an arm wrestling match. In the end, Gabriel decided that as long as the only thing getting bruised were egos, there was no reason to intervene. 

He stepped outside into a cold, clear night. No comet in the sky, but he had felt a pull to come out all the same. He let his gaze wander down the street and there it was - a shadow crouched in an archway, barely illuminated by a street light and covered in blankets as he tried to keep warm. Somehow, the blinking lights of Christmas decorations on the building made the figure seem even more lonely. And that wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all - especially not that night. 

“Excuse me,” Gabriel called out, approaching the man. “Would you like to come inside? It is quite cold, and my friends and I are having a party - I am sure they wouldn’t mind.”

The man looked up. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal dark brown eyes, and his features were just barely illuminated by the street light - but it was enough for Gabriel to trail off, taken off guard. The man smiled. 

“Thank you for your offer, Gabriel. I think I’ll take you up on this one.”

Ah. Well. It made sense, come to think of it. He’d always been original like that. Past the initial surprise, Gabriel straightened himself and smiled. “Any particular name I ought to call you by tonight?”

“In this time and age, Joshua will do. It's nice to see you guys paying more attention to humanity. I look back fondly on my first lifetime among them. Most of it at any rate,” Yeshua added, and stood. He straightened his back with a groan. “Ow, my spine.”

Gabriel was unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is this how you’ve been spending your birthday for the past two-something thousand years?” he asked. Until not too long ago, he would have been offended by the notion. Now he felt rather foolish for not having thought of it. 

“More or less. No offense, but I enjoy Earth. Corporate events were never quite my thing.”

“None taken. I hope your mother is well?”

“The one who cast you out of Heaven, or the one who hit you in the head with a clay vase?”

“... The latter.”

“Ah, yes. She is very well. Still rather sorry about the incident, but maintains you should have knocked if you didn’t want a vase to your head.”

“That’s… understandable. But we have amended records to omit that part, so no harm done.”

“I am aware. So, is there anything I may do to thank you for your hospitality tonight?”

“... Do you still do the thing with the water and wine? Because I believe we’re running low.”

A laugh. “Ah, yes,” he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as they headed back inside. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

Somewhere, Crowley is losing his entire MIND over the fact this guy got to use a pole on his way in. 

#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #aziraphale #crowley #winging it

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.3 | Brittana

Aaand we’re back to the usual weekly routine! Thank you for all the luv, I appreciate it so much you have no idea. 

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) 

By early October, Brittany has finally adapted to her busy schedule. With Autumn settling in, the mornings are a lot cooler but Brittany finds the crisp air refreshing when she’s out on her daily runs before class. Winters in Florida weren’t really all that cold, so this is all new to her.

Brittany takes it in stride though; in fact, she’s interested to see how the colder weather will impact her playing when it comes to Game Days. So far, the team is 5-0 now with just five more games left of the regular season. Everyone on the team is feeling good about their current standings, but Brittany knows it’s wise not to let it get to their heads.

Cockiness doesn’t mesh well with an undefeated record. She knows that one from experience.

Brittany’s in the locker room just after practice one Wednesday and she’s a hot, sweaty mess. Her hair is sure to be all over the place, but she’s too tired to care about appearances after such a grueling session. All she wants is a shower and to be able to scrub the dirt and dust caked on her arms and shins. Maybe a nice face mask too? She’ll wait until she’s home for that one though.

“Woah,” Santana gasps when she rounds the wall of lockers designated for the Cheerios and nearly runs into Brittany. She eyes her up and down and smirks, “You look like you’ve been rolling around in mud.”

Brittany chuckles at her comment. Since Santana’s surprise visit a couple weeks ago, things between them have been a lot better. They actually talk and sometimes they even walk together to their last class if Brittany gets to her locker in time. It’s a nice change and it makes her school days a whole lot easier.

“Yeah, these new drills Coach Beiste has us doing are intense,” Brittany sighs but a happy smile soon graces her lips, “I didn’t expect to see you here still.”

“Me neither,” Santana groans, “Coach Sylvester wants Quinn and I to hang back and help come up with routines for Homecoming Week.”

“Is it that time already?” Brittany wonders aloud, “That would explain the extra drills.”

“Yeah, it’s next week,” Santana answers, “It’s one of the most busiest times for the squad. Honestly, Spirit Week should be renamed Hell Week because that’s where I’d rather be than to deal with all this extra work.”

“The perks of being Co-Captain,” Brittany teases before she asks, “Is it really that bad?”

“Small town high schools go apeshit over events like this,” Santana explains, “You’ll see. Quinn and I have to start campaigning for Homecoming Court as well, it’s kind of mandatory for us. I’m sure you’ll probably get roped into something too being that you’re the quarterback and all.”

“I hope not,” Brittany scrunches her nose, “I hate the extra attention when I’m not on the field. It’s super weird being treated like some kind of celebrity.”

Santana smiles apologetically and echoes Brittany’s earlier words, “The perks of being QB.”

Brittany grumbles through her pout. It makes Santana’s smile soften.

“Well, I’ll let you get cleaned up,” Santana says and shakes her phone, “Quinn’s finally back from our coffee run so I better go meet her.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then!” Brittany waves as they go their separate ways.  

\\

When Friday comes around, the Titans are more amped up than ever. The guys are dressed in their jeans and jerseys and strut around the school like they own it. Brittany wears her jersey as well seeing that it’s tradition on Game Days, but she starts to notice the annoyed glares they get from some of the other teams.

More importantly, the Hockey team.

There was once instance where Brittany, Mike and Sam were talking by Sam’s locker when a couple guys from the Hockey team walked by. Brittany instantly felt the tension as the two teams exchanged glares.

“The hell you looking at?” Sam growled to Brittany’s surprise. She hadn’t ever heard him take a tone like that when it wasn’t being directed at Dave or Azimio.

Mike stood up a little straighter too and balled his fists.

The tallest one just laughed as he shook his head at them, “Couple of sell-outs.”

Brittany’s brow knitted; what’s that suppose to mean?

“Fuck you, Rick,” Sam scoffed, “At least we know what it’s like to win.”

“Right. You’re winners now that you’ve got a girl on the team,” Rick teased, “Fucking stupid.”

Brittany felt like she should say something, but she just griped the straps of her bookbag tighter until her knuckles whitened.

Rick looked to Brittany, “At least those gay ass tights finally work in someone’s favor.”

“Get out of here, man!” Mike ordered as he took a step forward and shoved at Rick’s shoulder.

Rick stumbled back and held up his hands although the sly smirk was still there. He gave Brittany a wink then motioned for his guys to keep walking.

Suddenly Brittany felt a little gross. She’s no stranger to those kind of comments too, but they’ve never lost their effect on making her feel sexualized. That might be one of the worst drawbacks to having so much emphasis on her being a female on a boys’ team.

“Don’t worry about them,” Mike said with a nudge to Brittany’s arm, “They’ve always been jealous of us even when we weren’t winning.”

“Hockey sucks,” Sam added, “That’s why. No one ever goes to their games.”

Brittany just nodded and pasted on a smile. She saw Santana down the other end of the hall walking towards her with Quinn and soon her smile turned genuine. Santana hadn’t looked her way yet, so Brittany just watched as those around her just stared like she was the hottest girl in school.

Brittany kind of agreed with that sentiment.

Sam and Mike noticed her leering and began to smirk when they realized who Brittany was looking at. When Santana and Quinn got closer, Sam and Mike glanced over at Brittany again to see if she was still staring.

They chuckled when they found that she was.

“Hey Pierce,” Santana smirked as she admired Brittany in her jersey and tight blue jeans. Maybe she kind of had a thing for a girl in uniform, but who didn’t?

“Hi Santana,” Brittany grinned.

Sam and Mike looked between themselves to see if they were invisible. That could be the only reason why Santana skipped greeting them.

Quinn chuckled and acknowledged the guys, “Hey boys.” Her eyes lingered longer on Mike than Sam before she averted her gaze to Brittany, “Hey Brittany.”

Upon hearing her name, Brittany blinked out of her staring contest with Santana and smiled in response. They haven’t actually met officially yet, but Santana talked about her enough for Brittany feel like she knew her.

“Hi,” Brittany greeted.

They five of them plummeted into an semi-awkward silence that was only broken up by Sam saying, “Well…this is awkward.”

Fortunately though, that was enough to have everyone laughing and the awkwardness wore away just as the bell rang out. Brittany’s next class was with Mike so she turned him and nodded.

“We should get going,” She said as she gave a last fleeting glance to Santana and smiled,  “I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” Santana smiled back before turning to Quinn. The smile fell as she hardened, “Let’s go.”

Quinn nodded and together they continued their walk down the hall with their heads held high, their expressions only a couple of top bitches could wear.

Sam just looked between the duos and frowned, “Guess I’ll just walk by myself to class.”

\\

By Lunch, Brittany’s sitting with Kurt, Tina and Mercedes at their usual table but today Brittany feels like she’s being stared at. Actually, she always gets stared at for her table choice but she doesn’t get what the big deal is.

Kurt, Tina and Mercedes are going on about an upcoming performance they’re planning with some of the other members of their club. Brittany can tell they’re excited about it as they reel off potential song choices.

“It’s going to have to get the approval from Rachel,” Kurt complains, “With her being the self-proclaimed Team Leader and all. I have no idea how Mr. Schue let her get away with that one.”

“Rachel can kiss my ass,” Mercedes waves off, “If she has us singing Barbra again, I’m going to riot.”

“I agree,” Kurt nods, “There’s just a time and a place for showtunes and I don’t think a school dance is one of them.”

“Definitely not,” Tina says, “Artie said he wants to do Miguel.”

“He would,” Mercedes laughs, “I can see it though; white boy could probably pull it off.”

Everyone at the table laughs, even Brittany although she’s barely following along. She hasn’t met a Rachel or Artie, but she knows who Mr. Schue is so she’s not super lost.

“Sorry Britt,” Kurt smiles apologetically, “We shouldn’t make you feel left out by talking about all of this Glee Club stuff around you.”

Brittany just shrugs, “I don’t mind it. It’s kind of nice hearing about something other than football and schoolwork so don’t mind me.”

“Would you…ever consider joining?” Tina wonders.

Mercedes and Kurt are surprised by the question but await Brittany’s answer anxiously.

“It sounds fun, but I just don’t have the time for it,” Brittany answers easily, “Plus I can’t really sing so I’m probably doing you a favor.”

Everyone can understand Brittany’s reasoning, so they don’t press any further. Instead, they go back to tossing out different ideas for a set list. It’s kind of cool listening along, but then Puck and Finn approach her and the mood changes. Brittany only know they’ve walked up because everyone at the table instantly silences.

“We’ve saved you a seat at our table,” Puck says.

Mercedes, Kurt and Tina glance between him and Brittany like they’ve just settled in for a show.

“Thanks but I like sitting here,” Brittany answers politely then turns back to her friends. She feels them still lingering behind her though.

Puck scowls and looks to Finn who’s staring at her like she just spoke in another language.

“Look, you don’t have to perform this kind of community service by sitting with these losers,” Puck tries again, “You’ve already proved that you’re cool.”

That comment has Brittany feeling hot.

The worst thing anyone can do is make fun of her friends and even if she doesn’t hang around them as much as Sam and Mike, Kurt and Mercedes were some of the firsts to treat her with kindness when she arrived to McKinley. That doesn’t get forgotten just because she’s higher up than them on this imaginary McKinley food chain.

“Don’t call my friends losers,” Brittany warns. The politeness is still there but it’s wearing down.

Puck just shakes his head and looks to Finn, “You tell her, man.”

“Britt, you can’t sit with them,” Finn says sternly. There’s an edge to his voice, like he’s trying to simplify it for her, “Titans sit with Titans.”

“I don’t see you saving a seat for Kurt too,” Brittany challenges. She can see they’re starting to gain an audience – even Santana and Quinn watch from their assigned table – but she doesn’t waver on her stance.

“It’s different for him. You’re the quarterback. There are certain things you just can’t do. One of them being this,” Finn explains with the wave of his hand at the table, “Quit making things difficult.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Brittany snaps as she goes to stand this time and all heads turn to watch. She keeps her chin raised though Finn towers over her. She’s not going to get pushed around over something so ridiculous, “If Kurt can’t sit with the rest of the team then neither will I.”

Finn just presses his lips tightly together in a grimace while Puck stares at her in disbelief.

“You’re not Team Captain anymore, Finn, and one of these days you’re going to finally understand that the way things are done here aren’t right,” Brittany explains, “And if I have to be the one to teach you that, then so be it. I’m already schooling you on the field. I don’t mind the extra work.”

Finn scoffs at that but Puck looks a little impressed.

“Damn,” Puck smirks and glances to his side at Finn, “She might have bigger balls than you.”

Finn ignores him though.

“Whatever then,” Finn huffs, “Don’t come running to us when this backfires on you.”

“Don’t worry,” Brittany smiles sweetly, “I won’t.”

When she sits back down, Kurt’s jaw is dropped.

“That was amazing,” He applauds.

Brittany just shrugs, “I hate the double-standards at this school, almost as much as I hate bullies.”

“Well there’s a ton of them here,” Mercedes jokes before giving Brittany an approving nod, “That was pretty cool though. Don’t think I’ve ever seen Finn so tripped up.”

Brittany smiles at the compliments but she hates confrontation so the conversation doesn’t sit well with her. She knows it’s impossible to breeze through high school without a ruffling some feathers, doesn’t mean she likes to do it on purpose. She’s just not one to sit idly by either.

Brittany goes back to her lunch and tries to push away how Finn’s warning lingers in the back of her mind.

\\

By Game Time, the Titans take the field with the most energy that Brittany’s seen yet. They’ve gained quite a crowd despite it being an Away game for the them. Now that they’re on this historical winning streak, it that adds to the team’s eagerness to play and the spectators eagerness to watch.

Not to mention that this game happens to be against their biggest rivals: the Carmel High Camels.

The school has dominated across the board in all aspects, so – before Brittany’s arrival – the Titans never stood a chance. That doesn’t stop the rivalry from being any less intense. The teams’ hatred for each other runs deep, but the Titans feel revived this season because now they’ve got Brittany and Brittany’s a gun in the pocket.

Or so that’s what all the guys have been saying. Brittany tries to keep a level-head though.

She has watched the tapes of their past games against Carmel, she can see why they’re the top team to beat. The Camels are a well-oiled machine with a current standing of 5-0 as well. Their defense has been known to get aggressive when it comes to applying pressure on the QB, so Brittany’s going to have to rely heavily on her O-Line for protection.

They’ve done pretty well thus far in doing that, but Brittany knows anything can happen. The other team can just as easily find a weak point and there goes their winning streak.

Brittany shakes out her arms to loosen up and wonders if she’s being realistic here or if she’s still letting Finn and the Hockey guys get in her head. She can’t decide, so she glances up at the stands for a distraction and finds her mom and brother waving at her.

Pete’s holding up a sign he made and it has Brittany smiling at all the colors he decided to use. She gives them a wave too before she’s putting on her helmet and jogging out to join the ref and the other team’s nominated player to perform the coin toss.

When the other team wins and decides to be on the receiving end, Brittany gets a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

\\

The Titans are dealt their first serious blow of the season.

It’s the worse game Brittany’s played yet. Not that her performance was specifically bad, she just wasn’t prepared for the Camel’s intense man-to-man coverage which made it extremely difficult for her receivers to get open.

She also can’t believe they lost to a school that has a camel as their mascot, so weird.

The Titans had to rely on their still-developing run game which – to be put simply – sucked majorly. Puckerman was wrapped up every single time and Brittany could see that he was starting to let his emotions get to him. She tried to remind him to use that for the next play, but by then she had lost a lot of the guys’ to their rivalry.

At one point in the third quarter, the teams were a taunt away from an all-out brawl.

The Titans were just a couple yards away from the end zone – the closest they’ve been able to get all game – but Carmel High’s defense was nearly impenetrable. Even Brittany was beginning to get frustrated, but she couldn’t succumb to her emotions too.

At least one person on the team still had to keep a level head.

It was fourth down and her head was telling her to bring out Special Teams and go for a field goal. It would at least get 3 points on the board where they currently had none, but Brittany didn’t want to give up all their hard work that drive just to get a field goal.

It was a tough decision, but she decided they should go for it. Half the team looked at her like she was crazy, the other half just wanted to rip the Camels apart. Even Coach Beiste was in her ear asking if Brittany was sure that’s the route she wanted to take.

Brittany was certain she could get in there. All she needed was for her O-Line to make a small break so that she could dive in. It was a risky call, but she hoped that Carmel High was too focused on her passing game to think she’d ever go for a sneak.

And they were; Brittany was able to push in over the top for the touchdown. Unfortunately though, that would be the only one the Titans would get all game.

The Camels end the Titans winning streak: 23-7.

\\\\\

When the final whistle was blown, Santana watched Brittany pull off her helmet to reveal a disappointed frown. It had been a rough game by the looks of it, but she was no stranger to how intense games against Carmel High could be. Puck’s been ejected from at least two games for swinging on one of the other guys so that should tell you that it’s never pretty.

Brittany must’ve not known that though and Santana hates how the blonde sulks to the sidelines in defeat. She doesn’t get why she’s beating herself up, Brittany was the only one that scored!

“They look so crushed,” Quinn mumbled as they watched the rest of the team walk off the field battered and bruised.  

“Yeah,” Santana breathed out.

She kept her eyes on Brittany while Coach Beiste pulled her aside to talk. Slowly, the anguish on Brittany’s face started to morph. It wasn’t so much the disappointment and defeat anymore, but instead determination.

Santana wondered what the coach was saying to her that could bring on such change.

“Hope the guys don’t give her a hard time,” Quinn says when she notices Santana watching Brittany.

Santana crinkles her nose at the thought and scoffs, “They should be used to losing to Carmel by now. It’s not her fault they couldn’t get their shit together. She’s the only one that freaking scored anyway!”

Quinn just smirks at how riled up Santana gets and replies, “I guess we’ll just have to see what it’s like on Monday.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Santana nods and tears her gaze away from Brittany to glance at Quinn, “You still coming over tomorrow? These posters aren’t going to make themselves.”

“I’ll bring my hot glue gun,” Quinn teases before they join the rest of the squad in packing up.

\\

When it comes to Homecoming Court campaigns, Santana and Quinn are veterans. Quinn’s been doing competitions and pageants like this a lot longer – probably since Quinn was born if she’s being honest – so Santana’s pretty grateful to have learned so much from her over the years. Although they’re best friends, when it comes to Homecoming there’s nothing like a little friendly competition to keep things interesting.

They’re two of the most popular girls in school so the race tends to be pretty close, but Santana wonders if that’ll be the same this time considering how things went down last year. Santana’s reputation and status as one of the HBICs of the school really took a hit and she has had a difficult time moving forward like nothing happened.

It’s hard to forget and she wonders if it’s the same for everyone else too. She’s heard the whispers about her, but Brittany’s arrival has drowned them out. For now. Who knows when they’ll turn a critical eye back on her?

It’s not a concern Santana voices to her best friend though, so it eats away at her and whispers words of doubt while they begin campaign planning.

\\

Santana and Quinn are in the living room at the Lopez residence with all of their poster-making supplies spread out between them. They’re working away busily with some music in the background when Hector makes his way downstairs.

“Hi girls,” He greets as he slips into his jacket. Santana looks up and notices he’s dressed for work.

“Hi Mr. Lopez,” Quinn greets with a polite smile.

“You’re going to work?” Santana asks looking somewhat dejected. She thought he was off.

“I got called in. Nightshift today,” Hector confirms, “Your mom should be getting home soon though and I think she picked up something for dinner. What are you girls up to?”

Hector comes around the couch to put his shoes on, carefully moving so he doesn’t step on anything important.

“Just Homecoming stuff,” Santana answers with a shrug, trying to mask her disappointment. It’s not like they were meant to hang out or anything, but she has been noticing that he keeps his distance when it’s just them. Maybe she’s looking too far into it, but it seems like he can’t be bothered to be around her while Maribel’s away.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to and that’s what makes Santana feel even worse. She used to be such a daddy’s girl before last year. She hastes how much everything’s changed.

“Santana and I are campaigning for Homecoming Queen,” Quinn adds when she sees Santana getting wrapped up in her thoughts.

“Ah yes, that’s right! You two always compete against each other,” Hector chuckles, “It’s good that you’re still so involved in extracurriculars, Santana.”

At the sound of her name, Santana looks up and for the first time in awhile she sees a proud smile on her dad’s face. It instantly makes her feel lighter.

“It’ll look good on your college applications,” He adds.

“I know,” Santana answers. It’s hard for her not to feel a little relieved by his encouraging words. She craves his approval, why? She has no idea.

Hector gives her a resolute nod and looks to Quinn, “My girl is going to make a great doctor one day.”

Santana’s once again pleasantly surprised by her dad’s words even if she doesn’t agree with them. My girl; she can’t remember the last time he said that. Maybe he really is starting to see that nothing’s changed, that she’s still the same person she was before it all went to shit?

“Of course,” Quinn smiles back. Santana can tell she’s faking it and she’s grateful for that.

“Well, keep up the good work!” He applauds and pushes to stand, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Santana. Good day, Quinn.”

When Hector leaves for work, Quinn throws a wad of construction paper at Santana. The brunette scoffs and looks up.

“I can’t believe you still haven’t told him you’re undecided,” Quinn says.

Santana looks to her in disbelief, “Are you kidding? That was the longest he’s ever spoken to me without my mom being there. It wasn’t until just recently that he could look me in the eye again. No way I’m going to tell the truth now.”

Quinn purses her lips. She knows very little of Santana’s dynamic with her parents, but like her own she knows most of it is all for show. Families like theirs are usually only concerned with one thing and one thing only: their reputation.

“I’m going to drag this out for as long as I can,” Santana tells Quinn before she’s going back to her arts and crafts.

Quinn just sighs, “That can’t possibly end well.”

Santana doesn’t even look up, “I’ll take my chances.”

\\

Awhile later, Santana and Quinn are nearly finished with their posters. They’ve gone with three variations of posters that they can hang around school on Monday and they’re pretty pleased with their work.

Like Hector said, Maribel comes home a short while later with take out and there’s enough for Quinn too so the three of them have dinner together on the couch while watching tv – something they wouldn’t dare do if her dad was around.

They’re talking about their Homecoming campaigns with Maribel when Santana accidentally brings up Brittany.

“You’ve never mentioned a Brittany before,” Maribel states as she turns away from the tv to Santana, looking as interested as ever.

Santana wants to kick herself for the slip up, but she does her best to deflect with a shrug, “She’s new to McKinley.”

She doesn’t know why she makes a point to leave out that Brittany’s also the Titans’ new QB and she feels a little disappointed in herself that she does.

“I’ve heard she might run,” Quinn adds with her eyes on the tv screen still.

Santana had a feeling Brittany might get talked into it, but she didn’t think she’d actually do it. She surprisingly has mixed feelings about it. She needs the win to solidify her reputation, but she doubts she’ll stand a chance against Brittany.

There’s also the small chance that Brittany’s only being nominated as a joke. Santana knows how the people of McKinley act and it’s not usually out of kindness.

Santana shakes her head, “No way. She hates the limelight.”

Quinn quirks a brow as she turns to Santana, “What would you know?”

“We talk sometimes,” Santana shrugs again casually. Quinn and Maribel eye her for more information, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Quinn begins to smirk, “You talk, huh?”

Santana flinches and glances to her mom out of reflex but Maribel’s too swept up in watching tv again to notice.

“We have class together,” Santana explains, “She sits right next to me. We’re bound to talk at some point. Don’t make it weird.”

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t bring her up so often,” Quinn replies. She laughs when Santana rolls her eyes at her, “What? I think it would be nice for you to have another friend besides me.”

“I have other friends,” Santana argues but even she knows that’s a lie.

“You have many acquaintances,” Quinn corrects, “You don’t consider any of them friends.”

Maribel chimes in next now that the show’s on commercial, “I wouldn’t mind you making another friend, mija. You can never have too many.”

Santana fights another eye roll because of course her mom would say that. Santana doesn’t say anything in response – she doesn’t know how to tell her that being friends with another girl isn’t as easy as it use to be, not to mention that girl being Brittany.

She doubts Maribel would understand, so Santana just goes back to watching tv until her mom excuses herself for the night.

\\

It’s not until Quinn’s sure that they’re alone that she brings up the topic again.

“I just think you two would really hit it off,” Quinn reasons.

“So we’re not talking about friendship anymore?” Santana asks sarcastically.

“I mean, it could start off that way?” Quinn shrugs, “Like you said, you already share a class together. Plus I’ve seen you two talk by your lockers. Not to mention the way I witnessed you check her out the other day in the hall.”

Santana whirls on Quinn with wide eyes, “You didn’t witness shit.”

“I disagree.”

“I don’t know how when you were too busy checking out Boy Chang.”

Quinn’s jaw drops, “I-I wasn’t.”

Santana smirks upon seeing the blonde’s cheeks flush, “Sure Q. How is Mike anyway? You two done side-stepping around the obvious yet?”

“Don’t try to deflect,” Quinn says pointedly, “This isn’t about me. We’re talking about you.”

Santana just grumbles at her best friend’s persistence. She’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on her or something, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Uh yeah there is. Brittany’s perf – “

“Can you stop?” Santana finally insists.

Quinn looks taken aback but she doesn’t say anything. Santana just feels like she’s about to crumble apart. She hates that feeling, it seemed like she was stuck in it for all of last year. So when she feels it creeping in again, it puts her on edge.

“I’m not ready for that,” Santana admits softly. Her gaze averts to her hands wringing themselves out in her lap, “She’s too…I don’t know. I just can’t. I can’t do it yet, okay?”

Quinn softens as she watches Santana shrink in on herself. She scoots closer to her, “Baby steps at least? All joking aside, I really do think she’d be good for you. I mean, how many other people at this school can you relate to? There’s Kurt, but he doesn’t really count. Does he?”

Santana knows she means because he’s a guy and agrees, “No, I guess he doesn’t.”

“And then there’s Berry…” Quinn jokes, “But I doubt you’re going to want to make nice with her after all of these years.”

Santana cringes, “Definitely not. She’d probably make me sing a homoerotic song with her or some bullshit that would have me running back in the closet.”

“Exactly. So I think you should try it with Brittany,” Quinn suggests lightly, “She seems sweet, relatively normal. I can see the appeal, you know? There’s something about her, it’s refreshing. She isn’t like everyone else in this town.”

Santana can’t help but smile.

“You’re right,” Santana says, “She’s better.”

“So you’re gonna try?” Quinn questions.

Santana fakes an eye-roll, “Maybe but don’t meddle, alright? I know how you thrive off of other people’s drama.”

Quinn doesn’t even mind the jab and goes to pull Santana in for a tight hug. Santana pretends she hates it, but after so many years of friendship they both know she doesn’t.

\\\\\

By Monday, Brittany has somewhat prepared herself for the criticism she’s bound to hear about Friday night’s game. Coach Beiste’s encouraging words after the game really helped break up the haze of disappointment, but there was something that stood out to her during their short talk.

“They’re going to give you a lot of grief after this. A loss to Carmel is always a hard pill to swallow, but stand tall. Don’t let these guys walk all over you,” Coach Beiste said, “You’re a great Team Captain, Pierce. You’ve helped improve the team so much already, keep that up. Set the example for these guys, it’s a good one to follow.”

She spent the entire weekend trying to get right with the loss and focus on how she was personally going to improve moving forward. She wanted to set the right kind of example for the guys, she wanted to leave McKinley better than she found it.

Still, no matter what kind of preparations she did, that nervous feeling still lingered.

There was tension everywhere: between the Titans and Carmel High, the Titans and the Hockey guys, the Titans and Brittany. Then she has Coach Beiste in her ear basically saying she needs to girl up if she wants to continue gaining the team’s respect.

It was a lot for Brittany to deal with.

She knew that being Team Captain meant that she had additional responsibilities, but she had very little experience when it came to all of this casual hatred. Sure, at her old school there were other teams that they wanted to beat but it wasn’t ever this intense.

But, Brittany loves a challenge so she’s determined to keep at this until she gets it. Moving forward, she was more determined than ever to win the next time the Titans and the Camels crossed paths.

So when Brittany arrives at school, she holds her head high and braces herself for whatever may come.

\\

Surprisingly, no one approaches Brittany about the loss. In fact, everyone’s mostly swept up in the excitement of the first day of Spirit Week – which Brittany totally forgot about. Dressed in her jeans and blouse, Brittany sticks out like a sore thumb in a sea of students still in their pajamas.

But at least the weird looks are because of her attire and not about the game. She thinks she can handle that and heads over to her locker. There, she finds Santana applying lip gloss in the tiny mirror she has stuck to the inside of her locker door.

“Hey,” Brittany greets as she starts to put in her combo.

Santana glances at her through the corner of her mirror and spins. Her greeting dies when she sees what the blonde is wearing, “Didn’t know you were the type that slept in jeans, Pierce.”

Brittany smirks at the teasing tone, “Didn’t know you kept that uniform on all hours of the day either.”

“I don’t,” Santana answers in a tone Brittany isn’t familiar with. It has her peeking around her locker door to see if she can read what it might mean instead, but Santana’s expression changes to one of annoyance, “Coach doesn’t let the Cheerios participate in Pajama Day.”

Brittany frowns, “Why not? Aren’t you guys meant to be the most enthusiastic about it all?”

“I’m sure there’s some batshit crazy reason that makes zero sense,” Santana shrugs as she closes her locker, “Anyway, I can’t be late today so I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” Brittany smiles, “I’ll see you later.”

When Santana sends a glance over her shoulder, Brittany thinks that maybe today will be a good one after all.

\\

Brittany makes it to the end of the school day without a single incident.

No random interviews from JBI, the Hockey guys don’t show their faces, and the guys on the football team leave her alone at lunch. It’s oddly normal for a Monday after a loss, but Brittany doesn’t complain.

It’s not until after football practice that things start to change.

“I’ve noticed you don’t have any posters up,” Kurt says. Coach Beiste has just dismissed the team after a post-practice huddle.

“Posters for what?” Brittany wonders as she watches Coach Beiste and her assistant head for their office. She has a feeling that she knows what Kurt’s hinting at, but she plays coy.

“For Homecoming, obviously,” Kurt chuckles, “You’re a shoe in.”

Brittany shakes her head, “Yeah. I don’t really care about that stuff.”

Kurt looks shocked as he trails after Brittany towards the water station, “Well you should, it’s like on of the two biggest events at McKinley. The other being Prom, of course, but that’s months away.”

Brittany sips her water slowly before shaking her head again, “I just don’t have the time.”

“What if I made up something for you?”

Brittany’s surprised by his persistence, “Oh no, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Kurt offered. He glanced around at the guys grabbing water too and pulled Brittany to move further away from them, “I really admire you.”

Brittany’s flattered, but she stays silent as she crumples the paper cup and tosses in the trash before moving to get her duffle bag from the sideline.

“It’s usually a popularity contests between the Cheerios and jocks, but I think it would be a nice change to have someone like you win,” Kurt continues, “You’re the kind of representation people like us need.”

Brittany glances up, “People like us?”

“You know…” Kurt nods to her keychain.

Suddenly the dots are connecting for Brittany and she lets out a long sigh, “You know Kurt, I’m  a lot more than my sexuality.”

“I know that,” Kurt replies and he looks genuine about it, “I know, but there are people in this school that are still afraid to be themselves and you’re obviously not like that. You just live in your truth and it’s truly inspiring. I didn’t think Lima would see the day to be honest, but you came in like a breath of fresh air.”

Again, Brittany feels her cheeks heating up at the compliment. She doesn’t see herself in the same light at all. She’s just Brittany. She goes through day treating people with kindness and tries to do what she thinks is right just like anyone else. She really isn’t that much different.

“I don’t know what it was like at your old school, but we’re just not there yet. People are as ignorant as ever here,” Kurt tells her and Brittany can immediately sense the frustration and hurt. He tries to mask it though, “Just the other day, Karofsky slushied me for wearing an ascot.”

Brittany stiffened, “He did what?”  

Kurt eyed Brittany’s confusion and matched it, “Slushied me? It was actually pretty upsetting, that ascot was designer and the red dye completely ruined it.”

Brittany was still hung up on the fact that Kurt had a slushie thrown at him. She stood, her brows furrowing. She started to feel hot all over as Kurt continued to talk.

“Is that not something that happens where you came from?” He asks. Brittany shakes her head, “It happens all the time here. Most of the guys on the team have done it aside from like Sam, Mike and Matt.”

“Are you serious?” Brittany realizes the feeling is anger and it starts to consume her.

Kurt looks uncertain, “Yeah? They usually go after people they consider beneath them but I think it really just depends on their mood that day. If you even look at someone on the team wrong, you’re probably getting slushied. It’s happened to me so many times. Karofsky’s probably the worst one.”

“Fuck that,” Brittany snaps and storms straight over to Dave. He’s mingling with Azimio and some of the other guys on her O-Line when Brittany gives him a shove without thinking, “Hey!”

He barely moves but she’s gained everyone’s attention now and they all rush over.

“Woah!” The guys around him holler. Brittany doesn’t pay them any attention, she just keeps her eyes narrowed.

Karofsky looks her up and down, “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Must be a mood swing,” Azimio laughs.

Brittany ignores him, “Actually it’s the fact that my Right Guard thinks it okay to bully people.”

Dave’s brows shoot up, “What now?”

“Britt,” Kurt pleads from behind her, “Don’t. It’s fine.”

“No Kurt, it isn’t fine,” Brittany says firmly before she’s glaring at Dave, “It’s fucking ridiculous.” She looks around at the guys that have gathered around and targets each of them, “What’s wrong with you people? Kurt is your teammate!”

She sees Mike and Sam exchange a confused glance along with Finn. Puck’s smirking and Matt just stares blankly at the others around him. Everyone’s trying to fill in the blanks here.  

“I’ve never met so many who are just blatantly ignorant,” Brittany snaps. She’s so fired up now, “It shouldn’t matter what anyone’s labels are, if they’re on this team you’re meant to have their back. That’s just common sense, human decency!”

Azimio scoffs, “Listen, he’s – “

“No, you listen,” Brittany growls as she steps up to him and pokes at his chest. She turns her glare onto everyone else, “You all listen. Kurt made it on this team – same as everyone else here – and you’ll treat him with some respect!”

“Is this about the slushies?” Finn mumbles through his dopey confusion.

Brittany looks at him in disbelief before turning to Mike, “How long has this been a thing?”

Mike goes to answer but Finn cuts him off, “Forever.”

“Slushie facials are like tradition,” Puck adds. He still has on that cocky smirk, “It’s how we uphold our badass reps.” He goes to high five the guy next to him while others on the team nod in agreement.

Brittany frowns at him – at them all, “Well not anymore. There’s nothing badass about being an asshole.”

Puck’s smirk drops; the rest of the team looks surprised by Brittany words too.

“It’s mean, it’s bullying and I’m not going to stand for it as long as I’m QB,” She says firmly.

“But that’s how it has always been,” Finn challenges, “You can’t just go changing tradition just because you don’t like it.”

Brittany wants to laugh. She wants to smack him upside the head and shake some sense into him but she’s not the violent type – not usually. If anything, she’s disappointed that someone so deluded has been in charge of leading a team for so long.

“Watch me,” Brittany threatens. She stands tall and keeps her eyes narrowed on him, “Just because something’s always been done one way doesn’t make it right. I’m not going to lead a team full of close-minded Neanderthals to a Championship victory.”

Puck scoffs, “You really want to talk about victories after the last game?”

Brittany quirks a brow, “Tell me, Puckerman, who was it again that put a touchdown on the board? The only one of the entire game?”

She can hear Sam snickering from beside her at the sight of Puck looking dumbfounded.

“That’s what I thought,” Brittany smirks before she’s eyeing everyone else again, “I’m glad we lost, maybe it’ll knock you all off your high horses.” She can see the eye rolls she gets for that comment but she stands her ground, “There’s nothing worse than an overly-confident team and that’s exactly what was happening here. You all let it get to your heads and it cost us the game.”

“That’s bullshit,” Karofsky waves off, “What would she know?”

“A lot, apparently,” Brittany argues, “I’ve won a Championship title already. Hell, I’ve won two!”

“Shit, really?” Matt’s impressed, but Azimio shoves at him to shut up.

“Yeah, so this is nothing new to me,” Brittany adds, “But for all of you – seniors without a single playoff appearance let alone a victory – you’re going to want to straighten up if you want me to stay.”

“I can’t believe we’re letting a girl lead us,” Azimio complains, “What is the world coming to?”

Sam looks puzzled, “Dude. Coach Beiste is a girl.”

“Shut up, Evans,” Karofsky orders, “You know what he meant.”

“This girl doesn’t have to lead you,” Brittany replies as she steps up to Azimio, “I’m more than happy to hand all of this over to Finn, you can let him be in charge again. I guarantee you that he’s not taking this team to the top, but if you’re fine being losers then that’s cool.”

Half of the team glance to Finn and it looks like they can’t help but to agree with Brittany. He’s had three years to prove himself and he’s gotten nowhere. Brittany broke the losing streak in her very first appearance as a Titan and it wasn’t even a regular season game yet, so what does that say?

“No more slushie facials or whatever you call it. Like I said, I’m not going to lead a team of close-minded bullies to the Championship game. You’re free to go if you don’t like that decision,” Brittany tells them without any room for argument then looks directly at Karofsky and Azimio, “I’m sure Coach wouldn’t mind losing the dead weight. So, who wants to go?”

Azimio rolls his eyes but relents, “Nah. I’m staying, I want to win.”

Karofsky looks furious still, but he relents as well with just a single nod to show Brittany he agrees with Azimio. The rest of the team nod too.

“Great,” Brittany gives the team a proud smile, “Glad we’re all on the same page now. See you tomorrow for practice.”

She walks off the field without another word while the team is still reeling behind her.

\\

Tuesday morning starts off just the same as the morning before except this time she sees that the hallways have been covered in Homecoming Court campaign posters. Or maybe she was too lost in her thoughts yesterday to notice. The only people Brittany recognizes though are: Santana, Quinn and that guy Rick.

Brittany rolls her eyes at the last one; who would ever vote for that dickhead?

When Brittany gets to her locker, she finds that she has beaten Santana this time around. She’s busy trying to organize her books in her bag when she sees crisp white tennis shoes appear next to her.

“Nice shirt,” Santana compliments, “See you finally decided to participate and show some school spirit.”

Brittany blushes but tries to recover by giving back a little sarcasm, “Tie Dye Tuesday? How could I resist? It’s so original.”

Santana rolls her eyes though she smiles brightly. Brittany grins too and takes in the tie dye shirt Santana has on made up of red and black. Her eyes dip lower to find that Santana’s still wearing her Cheerios skirt underneath and it has her shaking her head.

“You really wear that uniform 24/7,” Brittany notes with a chuckle, “Do you ever take it off?”

“Nope,” Santana jokes, “It’s like a second skin to me now.”

“Gross,” Brittany scrunches her nose at the image before changing the subject, “I like your Homecoming Court posters by the way.”

“Thanks,” Santana smiles, “Nominations aren’t officially out yet, but Quinn and I are always on the ballot. Might as well get a head start.”

Brittany nods, “Well you’ve got my vote.”

“So I heard you threatened the entire football team yesterday,” Santana says instead of thanking her again.

Brittany bites her lip but she’s glad the locker door hides her from Santana for the moment, “News really does travel fast around here.”

“Not much usually happens,” Santana replies, “You’re really shaking things up.”

“Yeah, well…” Brittany sighs as she closes her locker, “It wasn’t really a threat. I just don’t like bullies.”

“I should watch out then,” Santana says as she closes her locker too. The way she’s smirking at Brittany has the blonde feeling drawn in.

“Why?” Brittany finds herself asking, “Are you a bully?”

“That’s what they say,” Santana lifts her shoulder casually before she’s batting her long lashes up at Brittany, “You gonna threaten me too?”

Brittany finds herself laughing; she can’t imagine threatening Santana.

“I don’t think I need to,” Brittany tells her behind a small smile, “You’re smart; you know what’s right and what isn’t.”

Santana just tilts her head to the side and stares. Her expression is hard to read, but there’s a hint of a smile there so Brittany knows she hasn’t crossed a line or said something wrong.

“I’ll see you later, Pierce,” Santana says just as the bell rings.

And just like always, Brittany nods and watches Santana disappear down the hall – a sea of students parting just for her.

\\

By the end of the day, Brittany sits next to Santana in their final class listening to the afternoon announcements. It’s almost time for them to announce the nominations for Homecoming Court and Brittany can just feel the anticipation radiating off of Santana.

She looks a little nervous too which confuses Brittany. Earlier Santana said that she and Quinn always get nominated; why would she be worried now?

Still, Brittany doodles away in her notebook while Coach Sylvester starts to read off the names.

“Votes will be counted on the night of the Homecoming Dance by a team of respected officials so don’t even think about trying to vote twice. All illegal ballots will be tossed,” Coach Sylvester explains stiffly, “Here are the nominations for Homecoming Queen: Missy Gunderson, Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez.”

Brittany glances to her side to see the proud smile Santana tries to keep hidden.

“Congrats,” Brittany whispers to her.

“Thanks,” Santana whispers back before turning to face the board again, “Hopefully guys from the Titans get nominated too. No way I’m going with a Puck Head.”

Brittany nods; if anyone on the team is worthy enough to be nominated she’d pick Mike or Sam or Kurt but that might be a little bias since they’re her friends.

“No surprises there,” Coach Sylvester grumbles, “And finally the nominations for Homecoming King are as follows: Rick Nelson, Scott Cooper and Brittany S. Pierce…wait, how does that work?”

Brittany’s eyes go wide upon hearing her name – after the loss the Titans sustained on Friday, after her hard stance on slushie facials, after her lack of self-promotion…she still gets nominated? It doesn’t make any sense.

She doesn’t even hear the rest of the announcements – she’s that surprised.

“This has got to be a mistake,” Brittany murmurs out of disbelief.

“Perks of being the quarterback,” Santana says, “You were bound to get roped into something.”

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #QB!Britt #LITL

[sirtommyholland]

Soo... We built a TARDIS! || tom holland x female!reader

A/N: Inspiration strikes from weird places. For me it was a random video that showed up in my recommendations. I can’t put the link here since it messes up the tags apparently, but I’ll put it in the comments!

This takes place a few months into quarantine so they can actually have 3 months to build a whole actual TARDIS.

Summary: You and Tom get bored in quarantine and decide to build a TARDIS, because, why not?

Warning: A brief mention of ‘being stuck at home’. I added the warning thinking there might be some people having a hard time with this whole isolation thing and not wanting to read about it. 

Word Count: 1.8k

*tomholland2013 just started a live stream. Watch it before it ends!*

“Hi guys!” we see Tom sitting on a couch in his living room, in a loose t-shirt and hair messy.  He makes small talk for a while as he waits for more people to join, then he gets up and starts walking towards the garden door. “Soo it’s a beautiful summer day outside, sun is shining, and I wanted to take you on a little tour of our garden.” He flips the camera around after fumbling for a bit, and the view turns to his garden. “So over here you see our chicken coop. Predator is chillin’ in there, the other two are wandering around. And over here we have some pretty flowers that my even prettier girlfriend planted. And then - OH MY GOD GUYS! WHAT IS THAT?!” He suddenly turns his phone towards the other side of the garden in a quick motion, and comes into view… a life sized TARDIS?

“Woaahh!” he says feigning shock. “T- T- The TARDIS??!” He starts walking towards the blue police box, narrating at the same time. “Guys this is crazy there’s a TARDIS in my garden!” As he gets closer to the box, the door suddenly opens to reveal a young woman, sticking her arm outside and pointing a sonic screwdriver towars the camera.

“Don’t you dare come any closer you-“ she starts with a harsh tone “you- youuu…” she stumbles, not being able to find a word, and starts laughing, we can hear Tom laughing behind the camera too as he also breaks character.

“Sooo..” he starts, flipping the camera to front view and walking towards his girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her into frame, both of them smiling at the camera, the police box in the background. “We built a TARDIS!”

3 months earlier

You and Tom were cuddling on your shared bed, catching up on some Doctor Who. While being stuck at home wasn’t ideal, you were trying to make the best of it by spending at least a couple of hours a day together, just the two of you, making up for the times he was away for shooting. After dinner you had a few beers with the guys downstairs, then went back to your room for TV, cuddles, and more beer. You were on your third episode when Tom suddenly lifted his head from the pillows to look at you.

“We should build our own TARDIS.” He stated.

“Yeah, definetely.” You answered in a plain voice, thinking he was joking.

“No, I’m serious.” He continued. “We are stuck at home with nothing to do, I know some carpentry, and the guys would help. It would be fun for all of us.”

Maybe it was because you were both a little beyond tipsy, bit it seemed more and more a like a good idea as he kept on talking.

“Yeah, you are right.” You said after he finished talking and looked at you expectantly. “We should definetely build a TARDIS.”

———-

The next morning , when you were having breakfast with Tom, he lifted his head from his plate and looked at you.

“Can you believe we actually decided to build a TARDIS last night? We get crazy when we’re drunk.” He said, laughing a bit.

“I know right?” you said immediately. “Like, did we really think we could actually build a real, life sized TARDIS on our own? And for what, just to stand in some corner of the garden with no real purpose?”

You both laughed a little nervously with your heads down, then stopped when you looked at each other.

“We should do it.” You both said at the same time.

“Oh thank God!” he started laughing. “I was afraid you actually didn’t want to do it!”

“How could I not when it’s the best idea we’ve ever had!” you exclaimed, laughing along with him as you high fived.

It was gonna be a long few months.

———-

You ordered lots of wood to begin with, watching lots and lots of tutorials and videos when you waited for them to arrive. Apparently, a lot of people had the wonderful idea of building a TARDIS.  While Tom sat at the living room table with a bunch of papers, making calculations for measurements, you were documenting the whole thing with your camera.

“So Tommy the carpenter is here double checking the measurements” you explained off view as the camera showed Tom leaning over the papers, making him lift his his head to see the camera and give a huge smile with a wave.

“You know this would go faster if you helped too, right?” he teased.

“I could help, but you look really attractive right now, doing calculations and stuff, and I wanna enjoy the view longer.” You replied cheekily, making him smile.

“Well, why don’t you come over here and enjoy it closer?” he said, pushing his chair back and patting his legs.

You comply and sit on his lap sideways, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to be more comfortable, the other hand still holding the camera. You make a move to stop recording and put it on the table but Tom stops you, instead holding the camera towards the two of you and flipping the screen so you could see yourselves.

“What are we doing?” you ask him as you lean your cheek against his, looking at yourself at the tiny screen.

“Admiring the view.” He answers, smiling. He doesn’t look away from the camera as he slightly turns his head to kiss you on your cheek, making you smile. He tears his eyes from the camera as he fully turns to you, kissing you repeteadly on your face, moving his lips slightly with every kiss, making you close your eyes in bliss. He has arrived to the corner of your lips and placed a few kisses there when you turn your head and meet his lips. He kisses you slowly, gently, with no rush, making you feel the tingles all the way to your toes.

You pull away after a minute, resting your forehead against his after a final little peck.

“So are gonna put this in the video?” you ask, still smiling.

“Nope.” He answers, as he kisses the corner of your lips again. “This goes into our own archive.”

———-

It was a long and tiring process after the supplies arrived, but also the most fun you had with the boys. Harrison and Tuwaine were mostly observing and making comments as they watched you from the comfort of their chairs, and recording everything as you were helping Tom.

Tom was handling the most of the things, planning what goes where and marking the boards for the places to cut. And you and Harry helped with the cutting after he made the marks. Also, if you had to add, Tom was very shirtless at this point, and you had been staring at him for so long that you almost cut yourself with the mini electric saw you were holding.

“Hey Y/N!” Harrison yelled from his seat, holding the camera. “Stop ogling your boyfriend before you lose a few fingers! Or a hand!”

“I can ogle my boyfriend as long as I want to, Osterfield!” You yelled back, making Tom lean over to give you a little kiss, and making Harry mutter an “ew” under his breath.

———-

When the cutting process was over, you started the painting. Tom was currently recording you as you were painting one of the panels that was leaning against the fence.

“Soo we’re doing the painting right now as you can see.” He narrated. “Harrison decided to get off his arse and actually help for once.” He continued talking, pointing the camera towards his best friend.

“I have been cooking for you for weeks since you guys are so tired all the time!” 

———-

After the paints were dry and you were satisfied with the tone, all that was left to was assembling the whole thing. You decided to build it in a way that you could disassemble it and carry it anywhere in the house. So after assembling and hanging up the police box signs, and turning on the light, it was finally done! Your own TARDIS that had no other purpose other than sitting in your garden and looking pretty. Three months well spent, you would say.

“I’m gonna post this on Instagram.” Tom said as you stood next to each other in the garden, admiring the result of your work.

“You should post it on every website available.” You said, still in awe that you currently had an actual, life sized TARDIS sitting in your garden.

“Okay, I have an idea.” Tom said turning to you. “I’ll start a live stream, you’ll be hiding inside, I’ll just come out to the garden showing them the flowers or something. And then I’ll turn around and go like ‘Oh my God guys there is a TARDIS in my garden what the fuck?!’ and then you’ll jump out saying ‘SURPRISEEE!’ ”

“Ooor,” you said, thinking about the sonic screwdriver toy you had in your room. “I could be the Doctor.”

“You would be hot as the Doctor.” He says, leaning in to kiss you, making you wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss him back.

———-

“We built a TARDIS!” you said at the same time, you giving a thumbs up at the camera. The comments were rolling so fast that you couldn’t read any of them.

“I think you just broke the internet again.” You said, making him laugh. He flips the camera around to walk around the TARDIS, showing some details and saying that he was gonna post a video of the whole process later.

“So should we give a tour of the inside, m’love?” he says, turning at you.

“Of course.” You answer, and go over the door to open it with a flourish. “Ta-daaa!” you exclaim, holding out an arm as if you were welcoming him inside.

“Aaand that’s it.” He says as he shows the inside of the box, which is, for a fact, not bigger on the inside but just a tiny space.

“We’re thinking of covering all the walls with pictures and kinda turn this into a memory box.” You explain.

“Yeah, and we’ll sometimes put it in random places in the house, so like one of the guys could walk into his room and suddenly find a TARDIS in the middle of it.” Tom continues, making you gape at him, still not having a filter after everything he’s done for years.

“Tom, stop spoiling our pranks!”  

A/N: Sorry for the weird ending, just didn’t know how to wrap it up. Please give it a like/reblog if you enjoyed it! Also, the GIF isn’t mine.

MASTERLIST

#tom holland x reader #doctor who #the tardis #quarantine #fluff #tom holland x female reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot

[2manyfandoms2count]

#LadynoirJuly Days 6 and 7

Aaand I’m officially back on schedule! Doubt it’ll last very long but you never know 👀 Hope you enjoy this style, I tried something new!

@ladynoirjuly2020

---

Days 6 and 7: Rose and Interview

“Good evening everyone, Nadia Chamack here with a special interview with Paris’ favourite male hero: Chat Noir! Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!”

“Hey Guys, welcome to a new session of Ladyblog live with Alya! Today, we are with the one and only Ladybug for a special interview! Stay tuned!”

---

“Ladybug? Oh, she’s amazing. A real lucky charm. Truly, I doubt any of us would be here today if it weren’t for her. She’s…”

“The best partner I could ever ask for. I wish he was a little less self-sacrificial, but other than that… No kitten, I wouldn’t be able to do the whole saving Paris thing without him by my side. [...] Wait, did I say ‘no kitten’? Could you edit it out, please? I’ll never hear the end of it…”

“It was a fun experience, I think it really helped us get more insight into the weight of our respective Miraculouses. I’m definitely a lot more aware of how hard it is to be Ladybug. I like to think I’m a lot more serious now, and I think Ladybug is a little more relaxed. Rumour has it she makes cat puns now.”

“Are you kidding? I was terrible! I should’ve been able to put aside the fact I’m usually Ladybug and embrace this new Miraculous, but all I did was boss Chat around for most of the fight. No, clearly there’s a reason why we were chosen for one over the other. We’re still far from perfect, but being Ladybug feels a lot more natural.”

“Do I know who Ladybug is? Of course I do! A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. [...] Romeo and Juliet, exactly. It just means that it’s not because she wears a mask that she would be a different person out of costume. I know she’s caring, thoughtful, intelligent, quick thinking, bossy but still fun… She also has great taste in terms of pastries, I’ll take the opportunity to give a shout out to the Tom and Sabine Bakery, you’re the cat’s meow! [... ] Seriously though, she could be… an Emilie, a Marinette or a Nadia, she would still be my favourite rose. Whenever the time comes to reveal our identities, I don’t think much will change. The only thing I’d expect is us being able to spend more time together, and-”

“Share more of our daily lives with each other. It’s been really great opening up, sometimes juggling both identities can get a little heavy, and it’s something we can now talk about. It’s nice knowing we’re not alone. [...] Oh yes, we’re taking all the necessary precautions, we modify our daily life stories enough to prevent any of us from tracing it back to someone in particular, if by any chance we know each other out of costume. I think we really needed this, you know. I probably shouldn’t say this to you, but he’s my best friend.”

“Is there something more between us? Well, maybe. Do best friends go around saving a city every day? Would they know exactly what the other is thinking from a slight change in their eye colour? Can they anticipate each other’s movements? You tell me.”

“It’s definitely a complicated relationship. We know everything and nothing about each other. Take the guy I used to have a crush on, for example… I could tell you his beverage preference, what his order at the local bakery was, his schedule, what constituted a good enough excuse for his… parents to let him go out… I’m not sure I even know what Chat Noir’s favourite colour is. I can tell you what his favourite pastry is, though.”

---

“Plagg, could you please rewind that last part?” Adrien turned around in his desk chair, taking a closer look at the TV. Alya’s interview of Ladybug was too important to watch on his computer screen. Not to mention he actually needed the latter to do his homework.

“I really don’t understand why you insist on watching this when we could be watching a documentary on mountain cheese. My stores are running low, I need to know what to buy next!” The Kwami replied moodily as he gulped down a piece of Camembert. He did as he was asked nonetheless.

“I already told you I’m taping that, you’ll be able to watch it next.” Adrien made his way closer to the screen, leaning on the back of his sofa. “There. She compared me to the guy she had a crush on, right?”

“Sounds like it. Oh Kwami, here we go again, you’re going to be all sappy now, aren’t you?” Plagg rolled his eyes.

“I prefer the term cheesy, because I know deep inside you like it.” Adrien winked. The comparison could be a coincidence. But If he really was her best friend… Shouldn’t she have compared him to her other best friend? The girl she’d called Alice? A devilish grin spread to his face as he thought about the possibility that she’d just confessed her feelings to the whole wide web.

---

“Bluebell blue.” Chat called out at the end of their next patrol.

“What?” Ladybug looked puzzled, and scanned their surroundings for anything that could have prompted that comment. Either she was blind, or her partner was going slightly mad.

“That’s my favourite colour.”

He watched her furrowed brow turn into a look of realisation as she figured out what he was talking about. “You watched my interview.” And she knew exactly what part of it he was referring to. It had been careless, but less so than starting to talk about Alya with Alya. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, m’lady.” He smiled. “Any additional comments you’d like to make, off the record?Just you and I? And the Paris night sky?” He prompted, leaning in closer to her.

“Iridescent green.” She blurted, cringing internally. That was Adrien’s eye colour. It fitted Chat’s eyes as well, but she wasn’t being very original. It was his fault she’d had to speak so quickly though, her mind had frozen as soon as he’d gotten too close. She bet he knew how flustered it made her feel.

“Huh?” He pulled back, his turn to look quizzically at her.

“That’s my favourite colour.” If he’d been expecting a full declaration, he’d be disappointed. She wasn’t going to tell him how she felt on a random roof, as a by-the-way before they left patrol. Not when he’d once organised a fully romantic setting, complete with candles and roses. 

He’d just have to be patient.

#ladynoirjuly2020 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #ft. plagg #and adrien #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #rose #interview #elle writes

[wthzoe]

chapter 7 pt. 2 - you can never be too happy in this life

'you can never be too happy in this life' yeah, that's still the line

series masterlist - here

previous | next

warning: character death

a/n: aaand she lives! hi, yes, i'm alive! i honestly don't remember how long i was gone but thank you sm for (still) supporting 'with a smile' even if my updating schedule is shit lmao. here's the long overdue part 2 of chapter 7! i hope it's alright 😩

tags: @crayonwriting

-

The timing couldn’t be more perfect for the two of you. Spring break rolled around a couple weeks later, giving you time to work on Kuroo moving into your apartment. Soon enough you were sharing your room with your boyfriend. The triplets were overjoyed to find out that their papa will be living under the same roof and that they get to spend more time with him.

“Papa!” The triplets yelled one peaceful afternoon; excitement evident in the tone of their voice. That could only mean one thing; Kuroo has returned home from volleyball practice. You peaked at the entrance area from the kitchen, seeing how hot and disheveled your boyfriend was. Duffel bag slung across his torso, his hair messy as usual and his lips smiling widely at his little boys.

He picked all three of them up at the same time (which gave your poor motherly heart a scare) causing the boys to burst in a fit of giggles. Kuroo chuckled along with them as he walks the short distance to the kitchen before placing them down on the table. You walk up to him to give him a kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his height. He grabbed you by the waist the moment you came in close proximity to him.

"I'm home," he whispered.

"Welcome back," you whispered back, giving him one last peck on the lips before pulling away and moving your attention to the food on the stove.

You ate dinner with your family as usually would, nothing really going out of the ordinary until you heard your phone ring from the living room. You were about to stand up in order to retrieve the device but Kuroo offers to do it instead as he was closer to the living room.

"I'll get it." He picks it up then glances at the caller ID which showed the name 'Grandpa'. He instinctively answered it then brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"(Y/N)— Oh, Tetsurou?"

"Yes, it's me." He began walking back to his spot on the dining table while you watch him curiously, trying to find out who he's talking to and what they're talking about. "I'm sorry, what?"

Kuroo's face went pale, probably due to the news delivered to him. He gulps before shifting his gaze to you.

"(Y/N)..."

You beg Kuroo to drive faster than he already is in hopes of arriving to the hospital quicker. She'll be alright. She's fine. It's just a minor thing, right? Thoughts flooded your mind from the moment you dropped the triplets off at Bokuto and Akaashi's shared dorm room to the present.

Kuroo grabbed your hand that you were nibbling on out of anxiety, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance. But nothing could keep you calm, all you need was to arrive at the hospital faster and see for yourself that your grandmother would be alright.

The second the car was parked, you dashed out of it and into the hospital, frantically asking the front desk for your grandmother. You didn't even give the receptionist a chance to finish her question regarding your relation to the patient. You simply dashed to the elevator, pressing the 'up' button too many times, as if it would help the elevator arrive faster. When it did, people swore a ghost rushed by at how quick you got on.

More thoughts fill your head, making you forget that you completely left your boyfriend behind, but he understood. Unlike you, Kuroo calmly asked the receptionist for your grandmother's room and calmly waited for the elevator door to open.

On the other hand you were there catching your breath right outside your grandmother's room. You knew she wouldn't be too fond of the state you were in now so you gave your self time to breathe. After a couple minutes you finally lift your fist to knock— beep.

Oh no. It was that beep. The long one. Your heart sank to the deepest pits of Earth. That's not it, right? You were hearing wrong. She's fine. When you walk in, she'll greet you as always. She's fine. She's fine. She's—

The scene that greeted you when you opened the door sunk your heart deeper than what you thought was humanely possible. Doctors, or were they nurses? You didn't know, you couldn't think, were huddled around the bed while frantically trying to revive your grandmother.

In the corner was your grandfather, who had noticed you enter because he was trying so hard not to see his wife battle life and death. You ran to him in tears. He gave you a tight hug, his breath equally as shaky as yours, maybe even more.

The two of you stayed in that position the whole time, earnestly waiting for good news that never came. She's gone. You grandmother's gone. The person who took you in and raised you like her own was gone.

You sink into the chair beside the bed, listlessly staring at her peaceful expression. If it was even remotely possible, more tears rolled down your cheeks. Your breaths becoming even heavier, as you release sobs.

"Grandma," you called out, hoping she'll find her way back to you. Maybe she was just lost. "Granny..."

The more you call for her the more you realize that she's not coming back. You grab her cold hand with both of yours, desperately trying to heat it up as you call for her. You lean your head onto her shoulder and bawled. Her body no longer providing the comforting heat you always loved.

"I said— I said I'm going to repay you... for everything you've done for me." You choked out in between sobs. "How am I going to do that now? Please don't leave me..."

You stayed like that for hours, even after Kuroo came to comfort you. But Kuroo and your grandfather both decided that it would be best to leave you be for now.

After a while you calmed down. Your grandfather approached you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"She... knew what was coming." He started. "Two days ago, before we came here, she told me she wanted a nice romantic evening before she goes. So we did that. She said she regrets not being able to properly say goodbye to you and the triplets before she goes."

You stare at your grandmother's lifeless body as tears began to flow once again.

"We prepared gifts for the boys for the next 15 years until they turn 18. She said it was the least she could do. She didn't let me contact you until she knew it was her last day. She said it was 'a few days too many of worrying for my baby'."

Once again you were full on sobbing into her shoulder.

"She said she has a last wish for you."

"What is it?" You lift your head, determined to fulfill your grandmother's last wish until;

"(Y/N)..." You felt your body tense at the feminine voice from behind you. You turn around only to see—

"Mom, dad. Why are you here?" Your voice was harsh as you eye them up and down.

"(Y/N), sweetie..."

"Don't you 'sweetie' me. You kicked me out remember?" Your grandfather's hand on your shoulder gave you a slight squeeze.

"(Y/N)... did you know that all this time they've been assisting you and the boys as much as they can? They regret what they did. Please talk to them at least. Your grandmother would be very happy."

You remind yourself that this was your grandmother's last wish as you hesitantly lead them out of the room. Kuroo gave you a look of concern from where he sat, knowing how tense you were. You give him a slight smile to reassure him.

"Just so you know, I have nothing to say to you." You speak up.

"I know, but please listen to us." You crossed your arms and turned to face them, not making eye contact. "I admit that what we did was wrong, that we were too harsh to you. I also admit that the first few months, we didn't care at all, but then one day your grandmother visited us and brought us a copy of your ultrasound. Your dad and I were happy for you, we regretted what we did but we knew you wouldn't even want to see us after all that."

She reached for your arm but you flinch away from her. She sighed then continued her explanation.

"We asked for updates about the four of you. We asked about what we can do to help, even if just financially. I saw how well you raised your boys, (Y/N). I don't have the rights to, but I'm proud. We... didn't plan on approaching you because the pain we caused you was too much and I didn't want you to be in pain again when you see us. But mom said it was her dying wish, and I also wanted to make things right. So, (Y/N), I'm very sorry."

You eyed your parents, checking for signs of insincerity in their words. But their expressions were nothing but sincere. You sigh and slowly approached your mother for a hug.

"Don't get me wrong, I still haven't fully forgiven you. I'm still very hurt. I just think that having things continue the way they were will only be bad for all of us." Both parents gave you a tight hug back, crying. Yoy caught a glimpse of Kuroo sitting outside your grandmother's room from over your mother's shoulder. "I have someone for you to meet."

You pull away from each other before calling for Kuroo. "Tetsu."

Your boyfriend stared at you in confusion, probably wondering why on Earth were you calling him in the middle of a touching reunion. Nonetheless, he complied to your call and approached you sheepishly.

"This is my boyfriend, Tetsurou."

"Kuroo Tetsurou, ma'am and... sir." Without further notice your mom pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you. Thank you very much for taking care of my (Y/N)."

Kuroo chuckled as he hugs her back, looking over to you before saying, "My pleasure."

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou imagines #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu au #haikyuu #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu scenarios #with a smile series

[cherryyharryy]

Burning Words

Chapter Two: Lunch, Library, and Lady Liberty

WC: 7,400

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Songs for this chapter

The prickling scratch of my highlighter dragging across a strip of text reminds me of how naïve I really am. I hate the sound, hate how uneven the lime green line sits, jagged over the inked words, with a pool of color where the pen sat at the beginning of the sentence. 

It’s raining outside, and rain in New York is not like rain anywhere else. It’s purposeful, like a painting, like it belongs here. The only difference is that nothing changes—not like back home. In Georgia, people would come out afterwards, drive ten miles to the nearest pit and screw their trucks through the mud. Kids would run outside and look for worms and slugs, puddles to jump in. Dogs would dig holes in the softened earth. But here, no one stops. No one bats an eye, not even the people who forget their umbrellas. I wish rain was still life changing.

I sigh, close my notes, and cap my highlighters. “Any ideas for lunch?”

Jessie dips her head back in thought. I see her lashes flutter and her lips pinch, but then she shrugs. “We could order pizza?” She’s sat cross-legged on a patchwork armchair, laptop balanced across her thighs with a pen teetering between her teeth. I have to tip my head over the back of my chair to see her, upside down. “I’ve got a coupon for that place down the street.”

“We always order pizza.”

“We could learn how to cook.”

I click my tongue. “Bingo.” 

The far wall of the apartment has a generous sized window. The floor creaks like we’re torturing it every time we move across a room, the bathtub faucet leaks when it’s hot out, and I know more about my neighbors’ lives than I really need to. But the window....it’s like a movie. My chair sits beside it. I try to count raindrops but there are too many. 

“Chinese?” I offer. 

“You and your egg rolls.”

“They’re the only thing I want when I don’t really wanna eat. I didn’t eat breakfast. And I only had a handful of popcorn for dinner last night.” 

I can see a park from here, and in the winter when the trees are bare, a neighboring tennis court. Flowers hang limply from their stems along the sidewalk. A cat scrambles across the road, sporadic, and suddenly I envy the lack of knowledge animals have, lack of responsibilities, sense of time, unspoken contracts. At times I wish I were a depressed cat soaked to the bone, thinking if I move quick enough I’ll escape the rain. 

“What?” I miss half of what Jessie asks. 

“How’s your class been?”

“Which one?”

Jessie pauses her movements to assert me with a knowing glare. “You know what class. How’s the British babe?”

“Ugh, Harry.”

“Harry,” she tests his name before I continue. A few students have called him by his name, but he’s quick to correct them, surely enjoying his authority.

“He’s most definitely not a babe. A jackass. And he’s been as jackass-y as ever.” I join Jessie when she starts to laugh. “He calls on me every chance he gets. And I swear it’s just to humiliate me.”

“Well at least he’s nice to look at.”

“That means nothing when he’s a jerk.”

“True.” Jessie shrugs. “What about Truman’s...it’s near campus?”

I loll my head back and narrow my gaze. They don’t have egg rolls. “Yeah that’s fine.”

“My treat.”

***

In Hungarian, there are two words for the color red. Piros and vörös, with different times to use them, and should be used accordingly. When I was a kid I got them wrong; called my mom’s hat vörös, and got a slap on the wrist by my grandmother. 

I spent that evening hiding in my closet, using the sleeve of my Winnie the Pooh pajamas to soak up the cascade of tears. When my cousin found me, I begged him to explain what I’d done wrong. 

“Piros is blood inside the body. Vörös is when it comes out.”

That’s all I was left with. And I never did understand the difference. For years now that night resurfaces in my brain, and I think, I’m older now, I’ll be able to get it.

But now, as I stand on the sidewalk, peering through the window of Jessie’s lunch choice, I’m swarmed with the overbearing realization that age has nothing to do with it. 

Harry’s in a striped button down, a sea foam green that reminds me of how different candy felt when I was younger, and high-waisted navy blue pants that couldn’t decide between flaring out or forming to the shape of his legs. I watch him balance plates and glasses, stacking forks and knives, spoons and mugs, soiled napkins and empty Splenda packets. He shovels his tip into his pocket and then disappears out of view while someone else wipes down the table. 

“We can go somewhere else.”

“No.” I drag in the humid air, freshly washed, and hold it in my lungs until my head starts to spin. “This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll sit in the back. At Brigette’s table.”

I’m not sure if you can call Truman’s a restaurant. It isn’t fast food, fine dining, or even a bistro. It’s always dark. The chairs are pink and the tablecloths are green. There are flowers everywhere, I thought it was a flower shop and was sadly mistaken when I came in for the first time to buy Jessie a bundle of roses for her birthday. Strumming violins fill any silence between tables. It’s old but new, rooted woods, lamps from the 90’s, curtains from the 80’s, cooks from the 60’s and 70’s. 

“Brigette’s not on today, but that table is available if you want it.”

Me and Jessie both blink at the hostess, unintelligible utterances coming out until we give up, give in, and sit ourselves down at the small tea table under the back window. 

“I hope the rain doesn’t start again. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

I hum, more preoccupied with trying to find a better distraction than my ripped cuticles. 

“He’s up front,” Jessie assures, “I think I saw that guy I dated the summer after freshman year...Mack something or other...busing these tables. I’m sure he’ll wait on us.”

“Whitaker.”

“What?”

“His name was Mack Whitaker.”

“Yeah, him. It’ll be fine.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. I can’t imagine being her.

The place is busy, rightfully so on a bleak Saturday afternoon. The sun pokes through the clouds occasionally, carving streams of golden light across our table, Jessie’s face, and I assume mine as well. She compliments my eyes and I thank her, then proceed to detail a hundred abstract thoughts as to why she must pity me enough to lie. Someone—who isn’t Mack Whitaker—brings us each water and apologizes for the wait. They’re swamped, understaffed, and had barreled through a visit from the health department early this morning. 

“Anthony’s pissed again,” Jessie mumbles, pursing her lips when I look up at her. I raise my brows so she’ll continue. “I missed his call the other night. But I was busy, so…” she shakes her head and scoffs a laugh. 

“It’s sweet though, that he wants to talk to you everyday.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs. 

“He’ll get over it,” I assure her. “He did the last time.”

“I just hope he’s over it before he comes up here.”

“Good afternoon, have you had a chance to look at the menu?” A girl from my class ends our conversation. She wears the same outfit as Harry. When she smiles I have to blink, her teeth whiter than heat, slightly crooked, and I imagine she overdoes the stinging gel against her gums to make up for it. It works. Her lips and cheeks look as if she’d became too friendly with strawberries; a character face, full and round, structured like magazine models with skin to match. I remember her from the previous year: pretty, even at eight in the morning. Boys like her, professors like her. Head of the Spanish club but I bet she can’t count past diez. 

“Two turkey on ciabatta with tomato soup. No mayo on one. Diet Coke aaand…” Jessie raises her brows at me.

“My water is fine, thanks.” 

“No mayo,” our server draws out the syllables while jotting down our order. ”Well my name’s Danielle, if you need anything just—” She points her pencil at me and squints, as if that clears my image and her memory. “You look familiar…” She hums to herself, taps the end of the pencil against her lips before her eyes light up. I gulp. “Oh! You’re in my class aren’t you? The early one on Monday and Wednesday!” 

I nod. “Yeah, World Lit.”

“Yeah! How are you doing on your book report?”

“Um, good I guess. Haven’t gotten too far into it yet.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty stupid right? I heard it was the TA’s idea. I mean, I haven’t done a book report since high school.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “So—oh! Speak of the devil.”

My face feels as though I’m being stung by a thousand bees. Harry sidles up beside Danielle and nods to each of us. 

“Afternoon, ladies.” He’s holding a pitcher of ice water and flicks his gaze down to my glass.

I regret how much I drank when he fills it back up to the rim. I scrape my teeth against my tongue before I’m able to say anything. “Thank you.”

He nods, opens his mouth, but Danielle beats him to it. 

“We were just discussing our class.”

My veins are filled with wax, dripping at a pace so unoriginal, hardening, crystallizing. I grab my cutlery wrapped in a mauve pink napkin to occupy my hands, twisting and prodding and jabbing. 

“Yeah,” she continues when all he does is nod. “So what are we doing on Monday?”

“I have a surprise for you all, something I’ve been working on with Dr. Pierce—”

“Oh!” Danielle interrupts. “What is it?”

Harry raises his brows and laughs. “Well I can’t tell you, now can I? Won’t be a surprise.”

“Ohh, yes you can. We won’t say a word.”

Harry denies her once more. His eyes flicker down to me. “I’m sure you won’t. But you’ll have to wait for class to find out.”

“Oh my God! Your hand!”

I follow Jessie’s voice to see a small pool of blood decorating the table, my napkin having soaked up some, my skin a bit more. Red reflects in the sparkling silver of a fork and spoon, glistening on the blade of a knife I have carelessly sawed against the tip of my ring finger. I didn’t feel anything until I saw the cut, and now it stings. 

“We have a first aid kit in the back.” I hear Harry say but I look to Jessie. “Here,” he pulls a handful of napkins from his apron and cups them around my finger. “Is this okay?”

I nod without looking at him. He tells me to come with him, and I oblige, weighing my evils as the entire room is now focused on our table and the girl bleeding out right before their eyes. As I walk with him, I selfishly hope I do lose enough to earn a transfusion, amputate my finger, something, anything, so I can leave. If I get to stay in the hospital, I won’t have to go to class Monday. 

“Don’t worry!” Danielle whispers as she passes by us. “He’s great with his hands.”

I see vörös everywhere. 

***

It burns. Really burns. But I’m thankful. It’s the only thing keeping me aware that I’m alive, that I can’t hide away, that I need to mark my movements as always. He rinses my finger under an ice cold water bottle he pulled from a tiny fridge below the staff’s sign-in computer. Someone yelled at him—Ralph. His name is on the bottle. 

“This is cleaner than whatever comes out of the sink.” 

He slips his foot around the leg of a metal chair and drags it over by the sink; the closet door it had held open falls shut. With a nod he tells me to sit. I say nothing, just watch him care for the small wound like my life really is dependent on it. 

“Can I have your hand—er—can I see it? Your hand?” He rolls his lips in and clears his throat when I extend my arm to him. His touch is almost nonexistent. I barely feel his fingers splaying my hand flat and wide while he rinses the blood off. He uses a towel tucked into his waistband to dry me off, and then pops open the lid of the first aid kit. 

“This is just an antiseptic...don’t think it should burn.” He smooths a small bit of opaque gel over the ridiculously tiny split in my skin. “I think the head and the hand...always an extreme amount of blood. When I was a kid, my sister’s cat scratched me, right under my left eyebrow. It felt like someone poured water down my face. Mum thought I was goin’ to die.” He folds a purple band-aid over my finger, frowning when it’s not smooth so he starts again. “There. Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Good. Okay. Um, well I guess I’d better get back.” His hand lingers on the bandage, running his thumb over it one last time, and then he finally pulls away. 

“Yeah.” I’m shaky when I stand, and curse myself when I almost trip over the chair when I turn to leave. I pause to speak over my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The walk back is long, and I have to fight the urge to look and see what he’s doing. I don’t hear the chair scraping against the floor or Ralph complaining about his water. I’m thankful I threw on my good jeans this morning. 

Jessie is bouncing in her seat when I return—the table beside ours. “Is it bad? It was a lot of blood! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It was really small. The cut I mean.” I look down at my bandage like it’s a secret. “Where’s my stuff?”

“They’re replacing it all,” she waves off. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it throbs a little bit—”

“No, not that! I mean him. Did he say anything to you? Was he mean? Because I’ll go back there if you need me to.”

“No—no, sit down, would you.” I hold back a laugh; she doesn’t need the encouragement. “He was nice.”

“Good. I tried to follow you but the manager came out and asked me what happened. We get our meal free, by the way.”

“Well then I guess this was worth it.”

Our food comes quickly, served by the manager herself. 

“Why aren’t you eating?”

I stir my soup. I can see the reflection of my eyes in the red pool, and I watch myself blink once before rippling my image away. “M’not that hungry.”

Jessie leans over the table and lowers her voice. “What happened?”

“What?”

“With Harry, in the back.”

“No, nothing.” I sigh and slump back into my chair. “I’m just tired. And I have a lot of work to do. That stupid report. And I have a quiz in another class on Tuesday. I’m fine. And he—”

“How are we doing? Is there anything I can get you guys?” Danielle looks prettier each time I see her. I shake my head while Jessie answers, keeping my focus on my untouched food. “Did Harry take care of you?”

It’s a good thing I wasn’t eating or else I would have choked. “Uh, yeah. He did.”

“I knew he would. He’s a sweet one.”

“Mhm.”

How easy it would be, to tell her my name. Tell her that her teeth are too white and her shirt is too tight. I could tell her that Harry’s sister’s cat scratched him when he was a kid and that’s where that tiny little scar above his eye is from. Did you know that Danielle? Or were you too preoccupied with what his hands were doing?

“Alright, well just holler for me if you need anything!”

I ignore her but she doesn’t seem to notice, waltzing off. Harry’s counting menus when she approaches him at the front. I think I hear her call him an angel, but I know I see him smile. I tell Jessie I want to leave. If I’m going to throw up it’s going to be in my bathroom with my best friend holding my hair back. 

***

I've had the Arctic Monkeys stuck in my head all morning. Every clink of the spoon against my bowl of cheerios, every step I took rushing to school because I decided to spend my time in the shower crying, every yawn from everyone stumbling into class. 

And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky, 

Yours, until the rivers all run dry. 

It’s five past eight. Dr. Pierce stands towards the corner, pointing at paperwork another professor is showing him. Each time a student cracks the door open they smile and hurry to their desk like they’ve won something. Freshmen. He told us twice that he doesn’t care if we’re late, it’s our grade not his, which I appreciate. My pen taps across my notebook. 

And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines, 

Yours, until the poets run out of rhyme 

In other words, until the end of time

He is late, however. I try to refuse my need to look up at the door each time it opens. I want to dismiss the anxiety of waiting for him. 

I'm gonna stay right here by your side, 

Do my best to keep you satisfied 

Nothin' in the world could drive me away 

'Cause every day, you'll hear me say

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry apologizes, bustling through the door. He did his best to fix the upturned collar of his rose pink button-down, subtly, albeit he fails miserably when a smudge of maroon is revealed. “I uh,” he clears his throat, “had some things to take care of. Got carried away.” He directs his excuse towards our professor, scrambling to pull out today’s materials from his bag. 

Dr. Pierce bids the professor goodbye and welcomes Harry, offering him time to gather himself which he does rather quickly. His lips are pressed together until he’s the center of attention, scanning the room as he always does, finalizing on me and I swear his eyes glisten. 

“So, uh, today we’ll be—”

“So sorry I’m late.” Danielle hurries through the door and takes her seat at the front.

“Right, um, welcome.” Harry’s gaze is trained on the paper in his hands. His brows furrow and he clears his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, we’re doing something a tad different today. Dr. Pierce and I have been talking, and we decided to break up our usual routine And with your reports due soon, offer you all a little added support. So we’ll be heading to the library where you all can work, ask questions, get mine or Dr. Pierce’s advice—whatever you need to finish the final touches before you hand anything in.”

Most everyone appears pleased with this news, proceeding to sling their bags over their shoulders and get out of their chairs. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Dr. Pierce interjects the flow. “You must work on your report and your report only. This isn’t a free-for-all. And I don’t want to hear that you’ve finished it, because I can guarantee that there’s room for improvement from each of you.”

Danielle is the first to make it to the front. She passes Harry on her way to the door and straightens his collar. His face matches the rose colored stain she thumbs over and I think about how if I veer off and go home, no one will notice. 

And I'll be yours until two and two is three, 

Yours, until the mountains crumble to the sea 

In other words, until eternity 

Baby, I'm yours

***

Our library is something out of a medieval storybook. Rich, haunted woods and six tier windows where dust sparkles through the light pushing in. You can lose aged pennies against the floor and get lost behind dusty shelves if you want to. There are microfilms, typewriters, and a spirit machine downstairs and two velvet couches on the second floor. 

I spent the majority of my first semester here, back when Jessie brought a different boy home every Friday night. I’ve missed the smell, the quiet, the disturbed alteration of reality inside its doors. But when I look around at my class tossing their bags on tables and hollering for Dr. Pierce or Harry’s attention, I’m not sure if I’ll make plans to come back. 

Ms. Bortnick, the head librarian, is a stout woman who barely sees over the front desk, but somehow always knows when I’ve come in. When it’s raining, she knows the shake of my umbrella from everyone else’s. And when it’s spring, she knows my sneezes from everyone else’s. She is like a grandmother, only she’d never had kids, so not quite so in that you can’t get away with stuff. She has a bad eye and one good kidney, and sometimes she mixes these two things up, but I gave up on correcting her long ago. That’s how long I’ve been here. 

She is Ukrainian and her accent is thick and aged, much like her mind. “Hello nyuszi,” she says before I’m fully inside. It’s bunny in Hungarian. A nickname from my mom, who tells everyone because she thinks it’s cute. Everyone, including the tiny librarian during the campus tour we took forever and a day ago. 

“Hi Ms. Bortnick,” I say, lagging, like I’m embarrassed, because I am. 

She just waves with a big grandmother-like smile that makes you miss home. 

I take a seat at a small table, behind a section of Virginia Woolf. Most of the voices die down, the clicks of keyboards taking their place, and I  pull out the research I’ve started for my report. The Tropic of Cancer, slightly tattered and worn, lay open beside my notebook, and my laptop sits adjacent. 

“You coming along well?”

Shit. I jump, my ears ringing. “I’m fine.”

Harry nods and paces behind me to look over my shoulder. The air below his body weighs down against my back, so suffocating and harnessing that I’m sure I feel the waves and vibrations his heart emits. I try to swallow but my tongue gets in the way. I should’ve stayed home.

Harry nods and paces behind me to look over my shoulder. The air below his body weighs down against my back, so suffocating and harnessing that I’m sure I feel the waves and vibrations his heart emits. I try to swallow but my tongue gets in the way. I should’ve stayed home. 

“I actually did an analysis on Henry Miller a couple years ago. If you wanna pick my brain, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Oh uh, thanks.”

His voice is grumbly, like rocks turning over beneath tires. Yet smooth, like washing sand off your body. I’m perplexed for a moment, at how these two things meet together so well, but that’s always the case with people. Like how Ms. Bortnick can’t remember anyone’s actual name, but sews that wound up with a pet name she picks out just for you. 

“Yeah, I think I might even have an essay on my laptop. You can look over it if you’d like,” he says. 

“Thank you, but I think I’m fine with what I have.”

“Well if you need anything, just let me know.”

I nod. My eyes blink once he steps away, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am and what I am doing. I’m a bit separated from most of the class, at one of the outlying tables apart from the student section where Harry ambles around everyone. Whenever he bends over to look at someone’s work, the muscles beneath his shirt ripple and contract. I can see his shoulder blades from here, and I’m failing to recall a time when the definition of someone’s spine has ever called for my attention. 

I shake my head, naïvely expecting that to clear my mind. Google is pulled up on my laptop, but instead of searching for The Tropic of Cancer, I press the keys in Harry’s name. 

The first couple links that pop up are social media accounts. I avoid these and move on to the next option, a link going back to our school. It takes me to his name under the directory, nothing more than a profile picture and his credentials. 

Harry Styles

Received his Bachelor of Arts in English Literature at New York University in 2016. He completed a one year internship at the Ann Rittenberg Literary Agency Inc. in New York in 2017, and in 2018, spent a year abroad in France and Italy studying classic literature surrounding the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries. He is currently working on his graduate degree, assisted professional teaching placement, and his thesis on the cultivation of the Renaissance era in regards to English literature. 

I read over everything three times. That’s how long it takes me to grasp it all. He’s accomplished more in three years of his life than I have in my entire existence. It’s weird, being in my twenties and already feeding off the desire of wanting to be young again. It’s not fair how some people are prone to achievements and winning, while the rest of us are left to scramble around, years later to piece together a life that offers a sliver of satisfaction. 

I close the window and ineptly click on one of his social media accounts, and for some reason my stomach twists. There’s a picture of him on twitter, from this weekend. He’s at Truman’s with his arm around Danielle, a smile on his face, and a caption thanking her for getting him his job. They’re both pretty; perfect for each other really. The only thing I can think of being thankful for in this moment is that I was not included in their picture. No one needs to see that comparison; I provide myself with enough pity to feed an army.

And maybe it’s stupid, but I navigate to Danielle’s account. There’s a weird fraction in the self-loathing lifestyle, like my brain needs a reminder of where I stand in this world. It keeps me in check, I believe. I cannot imagine thinking I look good, only to be reminded that I don’t in fact, look anything close to good. That’s a big fall to take, and I prefer to spend my time at the bottom. I’ve earned my place here.

I zoom in to every picture. Have you ever compared your wrist to someone? Or the space where your neck meets your shoulders? She has a big, red birthmark on her hip, but she makes it look necessary. And I’m sure Harry probably likes it. And I’m sure she’s told him how she’s no longer ashamed of it, and she’s not afraid to wear bikinis because she doesn’t care what people think. And she probably thinks that’s what makes her different and that’s the story she tells, how she overcame insecurity and loves her body now. And she would probably tell me that I just need to learn how to accept my flaws and learn to love them and then I’ll finally be happy like her. But that’s stupid, even stupider then me scrolling through her account to find some awkward picture, maybe one where her nose and lips are less perfect and I can start saving up for surgery too. Because if I looked like her, I’d have no problem being happy. I’d post pictures on the beach, and find a boyfriend, and not feel like a pathetic loser who’s done nothing with her life.

“Are you writing your report on Danielle?”

I lurch with stiff bones, and now I can’t remember if I’ve had this headache all day or if Dr. Pierce’s voice triggered it. Shamefully, I close the browser. “No, I’m sorry.” I hope that’s enough, because it’s all I can afford to give right now. Maybe if he knew I was seconds away from crying he’ll leave me alone.

“Get back to work please.”

Just make it ‘til you get home. You can cry there. Not here. Not here. Not here.

***

I tediously lower my body so that the water pulses right below my chin. My knees are covered, but only if I remain motionless, or the water will break against my skin and then my knee caps will appear suddenly. I inch my feet further across the acrylic until they are hidden once again. 

There is a window extending from the floor beside the tub all the way up, over my head so I have a view of the street below as well as the sky, and it’s always quite a contrast. If the street is busy, then the sky is not. But then if the sky has a heavy to-do list, then it’s the road below me that becomes shallow, except when rain is falling in a race to its demise against the concrete. 

I suck in a breath that’s full of my shampoo and bodywash and the rose oil I dropped in twenty minutes ago. I can taste it in my lungs, so before it becomes too much, I push against my heels, my knees forming mountains as they break the surface and my head becomes consumed a moment later. The pressure is light, just enough; I’m more aware that I’m living than I did when oxygen was flowing through my lungs. I count to ten and then release the burn as I crash upwards. It’s a bit dramatic and cinema worthy, but there’s no one watching; even the city-goers are too far below me to care that I live here. 

“Is my phone in there?”

I drag my eyes open and sure enough, Jessie’s phone sits on the counter. “Come in!”

“Oh thank God, thought I left it at that party.” She picks her clothes from last night off the floor and throws them in the hamper. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“And why’s that?”

I shrug, but she doesn’t see me, now straightening up the mess she made of her toiletries, her back to me while she shoves everything into her drawer.

“Just one of those nights I guess.”

She peaks over her shoulder and hums. “You have a lot of those.” She turns fully, looking at me like she is a mother. I rack my brain for an excuse but I can’t find one. If I did, I would’ve tried it out on myself years ago. “Y’know I’m here to talk. I’m your best friend...that’s part of my job.”

I smile at the water, but turn away when I see my reflection. “I’m fine. Just getting used to the semester.”

She lets the defeat show on her face, and I’m glad I know how to mask mine. “Alright then. Well just text me if you need me. I’m always here for you.” Her voice is soft and patient and I feel guilty for lying to her. “I’m late for cello practice.”

“I’ll be fine. Gonna enjoy my day off.”

“And actually enjoy it! No studying, no flash cards!” She laughs when I roll my eyes. “I mean it. Go to the park, eat a pint of ice cream, masturbate, please, anything outside of those notebooks of yours!”

“I’ll add those to the list,” I laugh. “I’m probably just gonna stay home and relax. Watch Uptown Girls or something. Eat cookie dough.”

“And—”

“And masturbate I know.”

She kisses my head and grabs her phone, heading out the door, her voice fading as she leaves. “You can tell me all about it later.”

The tile is cold beneath my feet, and slick with warning as I pull the plug on the drain and take a moment to scan the world outside. The sun is in attendance today, some of its beams make their way into the bathroom and have crawled across the floor all morning. I decide to stand there, on the beams to warm my toes slightly. It’s probably more in my head, the warmth, but I’ll take it either way. The tiles are black and white, a classic checkerboard, and I gave up on choosing a color to step on not long after we moved in. 

The mirror is foggy and I work fast to wash my face and brush my teeth, keeping my towel tight around myself until the last possible second, trading it’s warmth for a sweater and jeans. I slip into my shoes. I haven’t read much for leisure, and pick up my copy of Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl from my bookshelf before I leave. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it, but each time never fails to reward me with something I didn’t catch the last time. 

***

There’s a park within walking distance from my apartment. I like to go there in the rain sometimes, under my green umbrella, and read literary magazines with a thermos of coffee Jessie made me. I look like the adult that I’m supposed to be. I don’t think anyone ever notices, which isn’t much different then the expectations I lay out for myself the night before. 

Today, however, I am not walking to the park. I am taking a train to the park. The park—Central Park. And it’s not raining and I forgot to bring coffee, but I need today. I need to do something for myself. Something outside my comfort zone. That’s how you become a better person, right?

We don’t have subways back home. There isn’t much of anything back home other than high school football games, car washes, and stray cats that everyone feeds. The first time I rode the train I cried. Jessie told me that it was okay, and that’s why I did it the next time, and the time after that. I’m not going to cry today, though. I am not going to get overwhelmed and worry about when to get on and when to get off and who’s looking at me and how I wouldn’t be able to help anyone if they get mugged or how if I trip and fall on the platform, I’ll start praying for death. 

Light flashes at a rhythm I’m unfamiliar with, but I manage to keep my focus on my book. It shakes in my hands but I keep reading. I’m not really reading, in its true form, that is. I’ve marked this book up so much I could use it as confetti, and those are the parts I’m reading. The parts that meant something to me at each stage of my life: I used a green pen at age eleven, red sharpie at fifteen, blue highlighter at twenty, and ripped sticky notes at twenty-three. It’s less of a commitment this way, but when the screeching travels up my spine and I can smell something other than people when I’m back on solid ground, I wipe my cheeks and they’re dry. 

When I lie in bed at night and think over the many sins and shortcomings attributed to me, I get so confused by it all that I either laugh or cry: it depends on what sort of mood I am in. Then I fall asleep with a stupid feeling of wishing to be different from what I am or from what I want to be; perhaps to behave differently from the way I want to behave.

I have a plan in place. One that I didn’t feel comfortable telling Jessie even though I know she’d be supportive. That’s the conundrum; having a best friend who loves you so much they want to fix you. She would have tagged along today, asked me how I’m feeling a million times and try to rationalize everything. She’d tell me all the ways I can be happy. But she can’t do that. No one should be allowed to, really. Because if you say can then there also has to be the option of can’t. And if people had the choice to pick what state their mind was in every day, I wouldn’t be strolling around parts of New York I’ve never been in, trying to scrounge up some off-handed version of self-love.

I bought a bath bomb and candles, stopped at a stationary store to pick up pens and notebooks that I don’t need, another Beatles t-shirt and chocolate. A farmer’s market was selling fresh fruit and I bought a tomato and ate the whole thing right there. I don’t care that it’s cheap retail therapy. It’s blocking out school and certain people and my age and my lack of success as an adult. And maybe it’s not working, but it’s New York—there’s distractions everywhere. And that’s exactly what I’m doing today. 

***

Liberty Island. That’s where the Statue of Liberty is. I am stupid for thinking Staten Island, but in my defense, that’s where everyone outside of New York thinks it is. When I moved here I wanted to see it. It was going to be this defining moment that solidified me in my new home, this incredible rebirth that validated me leaving my parents. I was going to buy cheap postcards and send them to my mom and I’d say See, I’m here and I’m happy. This was the right choice. I fit in. Please stop crying. At least I didn’t think it was Ellis Island. 

I’m on the right ferry heading towards the right island. Soon, I really see her and I start crying. She’s green but she’s not green, and she’s copper but also not really. She’s this woman and that’s fucking cool, except I know had she not been a gift, she would have been a man. There is someone with a microphone talking about her but the wind burns my ears so I pull up google on my phone. 

The Babylonian Ishtar, Imperial Rome’s goddess Libertas was Papal Rome’s “Mother of the Harlots and abominations of the earth” and the template for America’s Statue of Liberty.

I paid to visit the pedestal but not the crown. I don’t trust my body to climb twenty stories. I don’t wanna know what I’ll think about that high up. I saved up and bought a reservation and now that I’m here, I wish I’d brought Jessie along. I wish I had more people to choose from to bring along because this isn’t Jessie’s thing. But that was the idea, after all, to keep this day to myself, venture out, mark something off a bucket list I haven’t started yet. Distractions, distractions, distractions.

My bags are heavy and it’s hot, but I manage to read a lot of plaques and stroll around intentionally. I do, at certain moments, feel a sort of liberation with myself. Kind of like the first time you go out driving on your own. It’s scary, and a part of you still wishes your mom was behind the wheel, but that kind of being alone is freedom. It’s not the car or the license, it’s the option to be fully by yourself at any time. 

And I can’t help but wonder, compare, really, myself to the woman who I’m wandering around below her dress. She does lonely well. She does it right. All by herself she stands, a beacon, a purified symbol. And this is where I’m at, apparently, scrutinizing my abilities at making loneliness look mature and comparing myself to a statue.

Truly, this is my day. 

I take pictures of everything around me and it must be the sea air, because I do contemplate asking this dad of four kids to take one of me. I push that out of my head rather quickly. I switch the filter to black and white and angle my phone to get a photo overlooking the harbor once I’m back outside, but stop right in my tracks, when a familiar face is in the frame. 

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here! What a small world!”

Dozens of names swim around my head, and my courtesy smile eases into a real one once one of them starts flashing, matching this person’s face before I make a fool of myself. 

“Devon, hey, s’been a while.”

“I know, God,” she shakes her head in disbelief, “high school feels like a century ago.”

She looks the same, only like a new version. Not exactly older or more mature, but like she stopped experimenting with makeup and her acne finally calmed down. All of her features sit on top of her face, warm, eyes just as piercing as when we were seventeen. She was always cute and that quality has followed her over the years. 

“So what are you doing?” she asks and I squint because of the wind, imagining her words rearranging in the breeze into something easier to answer. 

“Um, just sightseeing.”

“Well I figured that,” she laughs. “I mean, your life, what’s up?”

I know my face looks resistant. Everyone pulls the same look when your stuck explaining something that is going to automatically lower the standard in which the other person sees you: nearly closed eyes, barred upper teeth while your top lip pulls up in thought, sucking in a short breath before speaking, stiff neck and chest. 

“I uh, well I’m still in school,” I nod along and loosen my volume to sound like I’m happy. “And uh, working.”

“Oh are you working on your masters?”

“No just um, maybe one day, but not right now.”

“Okay.” It is that ‘okay’. The you-are-turning-pathetic-right-before-my-eyes Okay. She smiles anyway. “I’m thinking of going back next year to get my doctorate.” She shrugs. “So do you live here, or…”

“Yeah, yeah, I got a scholarship—”

“Oh well that’s good!”

“Uh huh.”

“We’re just visiting. Trying to hit all the hot spots though.”

“We?”

“Me and my fiancé. She’s—” she cranes her neck and points to somewhere behind her, “on a work call at the moment. Y’know it’s beautiful here, I wonder if we could have the wedding right here,” she laughs. 

“Yeah that would be something.”

“So, are you seeing anyone?” 

“Not at the moment.”

She gasps like she’s discovered something and points at the air between us. “Wait, weren’t you dating that guy, the uh, really smart one who graduated early? God, what was his name, Mark or Matt?”

“No that uh, that wasn’t me.”

“I could’ve sworn it was,” she laughs. 

“Nope.”

“Aw, bless your heart, well you’ll find someone. The city’s big!”

I am done with this conversation. I force a smile and excuse myself, heading off in the opposite direction so if any tears fall she won’t see, and keep to myself until it’s really cloudy and mist pricks my skin. Not soon enough, we’re boarding the ferry again. 

I wave to Lady Liberty and imagine her waving back when we leave. If I squint, it kind of does. Whether she’s saying goodbye or good luck, I don’t know.

***

Dinner is one of those meals that either means everything or nothing. Tonight it means nothing. I walk past Truman’s, slowly. Harry isn’t in there and I stop right outside the plated glass window, now decorated with orange and yellow leaves, and try to figure out if I would’ve gone in had he been there. A band is setting up along the back wall and that’s where I see Danielle. She’s got a tray of drinks that each member takes. When she spins around she’s smiling and she smiles as she walks towards the hostess’ podium and she smiles when she squeezes the hand of some guy that comes up and she smiles when she sees me. 

I wave because what else am I supposed to do. If I flip her off, she might strangle me with her extensions, or tell Harry that I was a bitch, or spit in my food the next time I come in. I wait till she’s distracted, and then I leave. I stop at a food truck and stuff my face with a taco. Nothing. 

Back down the street, back on the train, back to my apartment. 

“I didn’t cry this time.”

Jessie glances up from sliding the bow across the strings, the last note stinging the air. She looks so small next to the instrument. 

“On the train. I didn’t cry.”

****************************************************************************************

Next Chapter

Let me know what you think!

Thank you to my wonderful beta readers @aileenacoustic and @bathrobesinparadise!!!!!!!!!

#ta!harry #burning words #harry styles #harry styles writing

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

Fake Fic Title: August Rush

Okay, so.. I hope you don’t mind that I did this. This is the second part to [ thoughts of yesterday ] which I posted last night and things get... A little twisty. A little intense, dare I say. Small disclaimer. I do not know how law enforcement / organized crime or any of that truly works, but... I tried. So.. this might not be totally accurate. But hopefully, it’s done in a way that’s not godawful. 

Second disclaimer : we’re going to assume that a little bit of time has passed between the first part and this one, m’kay? so yes.

Obligatory Warnings: mentions of organized crime, a bit of a plot twist, intense fluff, slight angst hurt/comfort, ashley dabbling in things that ashley’s not fully aware of but trying, swearing aaand that’s it. Tomorrow’s piece miiight be a little...spicier. Maybe.

The Squad: 

@kyleoreillysknee | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @xwicker-manx | @rampagewriting  | @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure | @writertoo18 | @adampage | @cabotcoves | @heelsamizayn | @missjenniferb | @unabashedwrestlefics | @cowboyshit | @dietwrestling | @schizoauthoress - huuuge nod to something you said when we were talking earlier. Hope you enjoy it, I had to do it when you bought it up bc I loved the idea so much.

[ wrestling tag doc - if you’re not on here, I will not be tagging you, just to be safe. Don’t want to annoy anyone or anything. ]

                              a u g u s t rush - drew gulak x ofc.

“You cannot tell her what’s happening. I need you to understand this, Agent Gulak.” Daniel Bryan stated the obvious for what had to have been the millionth time since Drew took the case and went in deep cover. On the other end of the line, Drew swore under his breath and managed to calmly reply, “Understood. Did you receive my email?” as a way to change the subject quickly. Otherwise, Drew thought to himself, Daniel is going to pick right up on just how hell bent I am on not obeying my orders to the letter.

“I did. The footage the bugs you planted picked up will go a long way in helping the DEA. If I had to guess, you won’t have to be in much longer. Now I’m gonna ask you again, agent… Can you continue without telling her what you’re involved in?” Daniel repeated himself, pausing to wait for an answer. Oh, he knew perfectly well that Drew had ulterior motivation in taking on this case. If the guy would just confess that to him, he might be surprised what Daniel was prepared to do to help him out.

They’d all been there at some point. You didn’t do this job as long as they had without forming some kind of protective attachment to some of the trapped victims in these things. Hell, he’d definitely done that himself.

But he knew the agent he was handling was… not the kind of guy to ask for help. He’d rather rely on himself than turn to a more seasoned team member and rely on them. The thought had Daniel fuming and preparing himself to do what he might have to do, going to their lead agent and telling them that he believed Agent Gulak may be well on the way to compromising himself.

Drew swallowed hard and tugged at his tie, two things that would’ve been a dead giveaway for Daniel Bryan if he were around to witness, luckily, he wasn’t. He propped his legs on the desk in front of him and took a deep breath, already going into exit strategy mode.

Because there had to be a way to do this and get her out of danger. There had to be. And he wasn’t going to rest until he found that way. 

He’d just hung up when he heard her speak up from behind and he realized that somehow, she’d just heard his entire conversation…

Well fuck, he thought to himself, this is going to be fun. I can’t very well not tell her what’s going on now, can I? She’s obviously just heard the conversation.

“Catalina? What the hell are you doing up? And standing outside of doors? Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?” he turned accusatory, hoping that it’d make her angry enough not to push him. Not to make him crack and tell her everything.

But one look in those big green eyes of hers as she stepped close… dangerously close… that clearly spelled out that if he thought he was keeping this secret?

He was in for a surprise.

--

I froze in the doorway, focused on processing what I’d just overheard Drew saying to whoever he’d been talking to. When it started to piece itself together, all I could do was stand there, shocked.

He wasn’t what I’d written him off to be. He was trying to do the right thing here and somehow, I never should have had a doubt about that. The fact that I had made me feel like utter shit. I shook my head and my mouth opened, only to close again when nothing would come out. I didn’t even realize he was aware I was in the room until he started angrily barking questions at me and I met his gaze, biting my lip as I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me.

Drew walked over and locked it quickly, pacing back and forth in front of me for a little bit.

I stepped in front of him at one point, stopping him and reaching up to thread my fingers along his tie and tug at it. “For your information… I wasn’t eavesdropping, first of all. I came here to apologize about earlier… The argument in the limo? The one where you basically called me a privileged brat?”

He eyed me, taking a deep breath as our bodies brushed against each other. I paused and toyed with the untied tie, not daring to meet his gaze. Because now that I knew the truth, I felt horrible for the way I’d been handling things since he just waltzed back into my life. He was right. I had been behaving like a brat.

Because I never got closure. I never got to tell him how much him leaving me would hurt. I never got the chance to tell him that I wanted to leave with him and that I loved him, probably more than I’d ever loved anyone.

But he was right here, right now.

It didn’t have to continue like this.

Maybe we could even have a second chance. A better one, especially if I got out and away like I’m trying to.

,, you know how dangerous that is, don’t even go there.” but it was too late. Even as that rebuttal entered my mind, I was indeed already going there. In leaps and bounds and another realization dawned.

This ship hadn’t sailed. I wasn’t ‘over him’ like I claimed. I’d never really stopped loving him.

And what he was doing? 

Was dangerous as hell. What if I lost him somehow? Without at least attempting to act on all this?

“Yeah?” his voice was thicker, and his finger curled beneath my chin, guiding my face so that I had to look him in the eyes. I took a second, staring at him; distracted and he repeated himself again, more firmly this time when he asked exactly what I’d heard.

“Enough to know I was completely wrong. And more than enough to know that maybe you were right earlier. Maybe” I stepped closer, my body pressed against his. He swallowed hard and stared down at me expectantly and I took a deep breath, continuing, “Maybe I was being a brat earlier.”

“There’s absolutely no maybe to it. You were being a complete brat.” Drew countered calmly, reaching around me to lock the door to the room. “But I understand. I left. After I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Did you leaving then have any reason to do with why you’re back now?” I asked the question quietly, hopefully and I found myself holding my breath while I looked up at him and waited on my answer. 

“To an extent. My cover was about to be blown back then. I had to disappear. I’m surprised they let me take this one. My cover could still be blown..” he trailed off, going quiet and raised his hand to my face, taking it in his hand. His thumb rolled over my skin and he took a second or two before continuing, “I had no choice but to disappear. And lie to you about who I was back then. If you knew…”

I nodded because I understood. “I get it.”

His hand moved from my cheek, splayed across the back of my head with his fingers tangled in my hair as he looked down at me and muttered quietly, “I had other reasons for taking this. If your dad is in prison, you’re free. You don’t have to worry about all the measures he goes through to keep you prisoner. I came back for you too.”

I felt my stomach flutter a little and my hand rested palm down against the button front shirt before finally clutching at it as I rose to tiptoe and cautiously planted what I thought would be a clumsy kiss against the corner of his mouth. Drew groaned quietly, his free hand going to my lower back, the hand in my hair tugging, pulling my mouth completely against his as he breathed against my lips, “I’m not leaving without you. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Am I in as much danger as my father says I’m in all the time?” the question came out quietly after the kiss broke, the two of us pulling away with flushed faces and breathing heavily. I leaned against him and worked on composure.

This was not what I’d come in here for, but it was everything I wanted -and apparently, needed.

“Worse than. I don’t think that asshole really knows just how many people are after him. So when he cast the net for a new bodyguard for you and I put two and two together...I knew I had to come back.”

I nodded, staring up at him as I took a few deep breaths. I knew his secret now. I mulled it over and quietly, I sat down on the edge of the heavy mahogany desk nearby and started to tell him mine. How I planned to leave and in a few months, send a flash drive of every single illegal and shady thing my father had ever done to the FBI. How I knew I’d have to permanently disappear after doing so because daughter or not, betrayal was not something my father took lightly. As I finished up, Drew was pacing the room again, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Give me the flash drive.”

“But he’ll.. If he even thinks you’re not on the up and up…”

“I can call for backup, Cat. You can’t.”

“Damn it, Drew..”

“Don’t fucking argue with me, Cat. Give me the flash drive. I can get it to my handler. Once my handler has it, we can figure out everything else.” Drew insisted and I nodded, biting my lip.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow night. At 8. I’ll be back at my own apartment then. Pretty sure he’s told you that, he plans to make you camp outside my door to keep me safe. It’s what he did with the others.” I told him as my fingertip trailed over his lips. 

“8, it is.” he muttered quietly, leaning in to pull me into another deep and steady kiss before I hurried out, back down to my own wing of the mansion. 

[animecat33]

I’m in a mood, so here’s some an extremely long post with shit conflict that happened on deviantart when i was younger that i’m still petty about and i wanna vent about it because if i wasn’t so young i woldn’t have let people step on me like that

No one should read this, tbh, it’s a fucking horror show out here 

oc: Shinju

When i made her it was the first time one of my ocs had like effort put into it, i designed her, make her backstory, put her in kirigakure, and i spent a long time researching names for her, looking up japanese words that i think would fit her, Ren Takeo

One person commented saying that they had an with the same name, from the same village, though they didn’t mean any harm by saying that, and even said it was fine

Here’s where it gets tricky.

I then got comments and private messages from OTHER PEOPLE telling me to change the name

So, like the weak bitch i was, i changed her name 

Oc: Roxy

I’ve talked about this one before, but i have this sonic oc named Roxy, i loved her, she was a bit edgy but like, queen, 10 years ago we were ALL edgy

I really wanted Roxy to be a lesbian, but i didn’t like, put that in the info, at the time gay ocs we’re really taken very well by the community, plus a few of my art friends were very iffy anytime i implied that some of my ocs might not be 100% straight.

now, i WANTED Roxy to be a lesbian but i was guilt tripped by some dude to roleplay with him, no matter now many time i said i didn’t roleplay, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I was very easily guilt tripped into eventually saying yes

A roleplay starts with Roxy and his Male wolf characer, John, when we started he assured that they were gonna be friends but one thing lead to another and he pressured me into role playing a sex scene, i was 14, i didn’t want to, didn’t even know how to write that. At that age i hadn’t really even seen porn before, but a few days of mowing down my boundries and he guilt trips me into saying yes.

At that point, he essencially took Roxy and did whatever the hell he wanted with her. Next thing i know, Roxy was married to this male character and they had a baby? I even ended up making some art of them because he kept saying how he was tired of making all the artwork himself.

Thank god, eventually he forgot about me and Roxy for a lot time. The last time i talked to him was on a pm where he warned me he was gonna delete all his ocs, including Roxy and Johns child, i think he wanted me to convince him not to do it but by that time i was older and just said “alright man, see ya”

Thank fuck, that problem solved itself, but i’d be better off not going through it in the first place

The cosplay hellhole

When i first started cosplaying, i posted my pictures to DA too, since there was a cosplay community there, didn’t think anything would happen

When i got my first Harley wig and makeup i was so excited i posted them on deviantart, and they did quite well, tbh. Some people asked for fansigns, and i didn’t even know who those were but, once it was explained to me, i did some for people who requested them, from there it was also fine, but stay tuned, cause it’s gonna bite me in the ass later down the line

I start getting wierd dms, very sexual in nature, which grossed me out, since i was already 20 it wasn’t like, illegal or anything, but there was a pattern of people asking for sexual content followed by “it’s okay if you say no, though” and when i said no, they would be pissed at me, calling me a whore, saying if i didn’t want attention, i wouldn’t cosplay Harley.... keep in mind, all of my photos where from the shoulder up at this point, i muscle through this time, i’ve been harrassed enough to have a lil bit thicker skin.

But over time, the pile up of messages from diferent accounts were getting to me, and i was starting to delete photos.

AND THEN

He said he was embarrassed of having to send me these things but if i wanted the photo taken down i’d have to report it myself, thankfully he also found the direct link to the report page so i didn’t have to dig through the website. Thankfully the report worked and the photo was taken down

I receive a pm from a friend that scared the shit out of me. He was going through this porn website called Xhamster, he recognises someone using one of my fansigns as a photo, now he KNOWS this isn’t me, because i’ve been vocal about not wanting to be sexualized while in cosplay. Someone took one of the fansigns, edited out the words, flipped the image, and photoshopped their own signature on to the sign in hopes of like... getting verified or something?. In short this person was using my photo as if it was a photo of them.

That mixed in with the still incoming pms from creeps made me delete every cosplay photo i’ve ever posted on deviantart.

Years later i did post new cosplay stuff again, now giving a warning right at the top of the description and being very okay with using the block button to my leisure.

I’m taking a long as fuck hiatus from posting on deviantart, it’s been over a year now, but i still go on a block spree when someone breaks the rules i’ve set 

The whole “Luís” saga

Sit down for this one, it’s the weirdest one

I had a friend named Luís, we weren’t super close, in fact he was mean to me a lot, making fun of my english, even though neither of us were native speakers, refering to my home country as “Spain’s bitch”. Sending me cartoon porn when i was underaged was a big red flag that i didn’t even think was a big deal until i was older and thought back on it, like that was fucked up.

One day, i had critiques open, Luís sends a super spammy message and then blocks me. I was like “okay, whatever, i’m tired anyway” and i blocked him back.

THAT is when shit hit the fan

He tries to unblock me and talk to me, when that doesn’t work he makes a secondary account and starts sending me very aggressive pms. I’m was tired of how he acted with me, plus something about him being so desperate to be unblocked didn’t sit right, so i just blocked the new accounts

He made 15 separate accounts, getting more and more angry with each one, i block all 15.

Suddenly i’m getting pms in english and spanish from people i’ve never interacted with, but aparently Luís had told them i was being some sort of monster, some of them backed off after seeing the full picture, the others got blocked

Luís girlfriend was friends with me.

He then threatned to leave her if she didn’t block me.... she left HIM, and now I’M being blamed for that

Someone shared some uuuuhhhh fanart he drew of her after that, it was super sus, it was a comic about him seducing her with a kiss in order to make her hate someone, girl you’re better off without him, jesus christ

Now shit starts moving off of deviantart

He finds my personal facebook, which was NOT disclosed to the public, and starts messaging me, from there he found my twitter, youtube, skype, starts messaging my irl friends, quite a lot of them did not even know english at the time.

In the few messages before i blocked him, i warned him to stop, i warned him he was stalking me online and that shit isn’t okay. THIS DUDE 

this dude replied with “it’s not stalking because i’m younger than you”

BOI

this happened over the course of a year, and it was the first time i ever reported someone, hell it’s the first time i’ve seen a report be successful, because i contact deviantart with a list of everything he’s done, screenshots to prove it, links to his separate accounts where all the comments are ONLY about me

a week later they DELETE THIS MAN’S WHOLE ACCOUNT

I have not heard from him in almost a decade

This is like, the ONE TIME i feel like i won

Aaand well, done, those are the most serious one, there’s some minor shit that’s not worth talking about, but looking back, wow, i used to get a lot of sexual harassment on deviantart huh?

#waste of posts #long post #vent

[angryinternetduck]

Kiwi

2k words on ginger ale, cacti, and a weird voice mail. Only warnings I can think of are a teeny bit of bad language and mentions of alcohol, aaand that’s it!!! Enjoy!!!

Harry was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, watching the ceiling fan.

They’d told him three months ago that a new album might be a good idea.  No pressure, they’d said. No pressure, but start thinking about it.  And he had.  He’d thought about it. And he had… nothing. Until that night.  He stared at the ceiling fan, and he suddenly decided that he was going to start writing.  About what, he didn’t know.  But he’d figure it out. 

**********

He hadn’t figured it out yet. 

It was 1:57 am, according to his digital clock, and he didn’t have anything.  There were scraps of paper scattered on the desk in front of him, and he was rolling a pencil around his knuckles absentmindedly. He was looking at the wall, his lip between his teeth, his brain still spinning a million miles an hour.  Spinning in circles a million miles an hour.  Harry sucked a breath in through his teeth and sat back in his chair.  Stared at the ceiling fan. 

***

He didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep.  He just knew that he did, at some point, because he woke up at 2:35 with his head on the desk and a crumpled piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He sat up, and ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the paper in front of him.  And then he stood up and went to the kitchen.  ***

When he came back, his phone was sitting on his desk, staring up at him innocently.  He sighed, and picked it up, and scrolled through his Instagram, and then he was bored, and he looked at the little red dot over the Phone app, and it said 128, and he sighed, and he clicked on it, and he started going through the voicemails.  And then his finger slipped, and he didn’t realize until he’d flicked once through the contacts, and when he realized, he stopped, and the screen slowed to a stop at a name, and Harry’s breath caught, and memories rushed back to him, and suddenly, he had inspiration. 

**********

Three Years Earlier

Harry didn’t want to be at that party.  He was tired, and it was late, and he was feeling a headache coming on.  But Zayn had wanted to go to that party, and so had Liam, and so had Louis, and Niall -  Well, Niall didn’t care.  Niall was just happy to be in New York, living the life.  But Louis and Liam and Zayn had wanted to come, and Harry tried to protest, but he could never say no to Zayn, so there he was, listening to the loud music, sitting at the bar, nursing a cup of ginger ale because he really didn’t feel like getting drunk and making a stupid mistake.  “Harry!” Harry sighed and turned around, because it was Liam, and he was drunk, and Harry wouldn’t have been very surprised if Liam had tackled him, because it had happened several times before.  “You,” Liam slurred, “are being hit on, mate.”  “I’m being hit on,” Harry echoed.  “Yessir,” Liam said.  “By… Who?”  “By… her,” Liam said, wheeling around and jutting a finger at a girl behind him.  Harry sighed.  She was, admittedly, lovely. Dark hair, dark eyes, black dress, black shoes, red lipstick. She was drinking a glass of something, something amber and gold and whiskey-looking, and there was a cigarette in her left hand, and she shifted her shoulder, and her hair moved slightly, and Harry saw a spade tattooed onto her skin on her neck.  “She’s smoking,” Harry said, and Liam wiggled his eyebrows. “Yessir,” he said again. Harry rolled his eyes, and spun around in his seat, and took a sip of his ginger ale. “I’m good, thanks.” Liam huffed from behind him, and then Louis called his name, and he shouted, “Tommo!” and he disappeared. “I’m offended,” a voice said from behind him less than a second later.  The voice was feminine. It was low, and smooth, and silky, and confident. Like honey.  Kind of British, but not quite.  Harry smelled smoke. And caramel. He turned around. “Hello,” he said.  “You’re not interested?”  “Getting straight to the point, I see.”  “Beating around the bush, I see.”  “What’s your name?”  “Emmaline,” she said. “Edward.”  “Really?” she said. “You don’t look like an Edward.”  “Thanks,” Harry said flatly. “Thanks very much.”  “Well, Eddy,” she sighed, sitting down on the stool next to him, “it’s a pleasure.” “Likewise,” Harry said.  “What’re you drinking?”  Harry gave a wry smile, looking down into his ginger ale. “Ale,” he said.  “As in ginger?”  He looked up, met her gaze, smiled. “Precisely.” And then, “Can I buy you one?”  “You want to buy me a ginger ale?”  “Whatever you like,” Harry said.  “Ginger ale it is,” Emmaline said.  He ordered one, and she stared at him, and she took a drag on her cigarette, and he felt his nose crinkle. “You don’t like smoke,” she said. He looked at her, at her white-polished nails, at her cigarette, and he shrugged.  She crushed the cigarette in the tray.  Harry was almost impressed.  And then she took out a pack of them, holding his gaze, and pulled out another, and lit it.  “Well, well, well!” somebody crowed from behind Harry.  Louis.  “Harry, mate, you’ve just got to introduce us to your lovely lady friend!” Zayn yelled, and Niall laughed, and Harry rolled his eyes, and Emmaline leaned forward, and she murmured, “I told you you didn’t look like an Edward.”  “Thanks, lads,” Harry muttered.  “So?” Liam asked. “Who’s this?”  “Emmaline, boys,” Harry said. “Boys, Emmaline.”  “Emmaline!” Louis repeated, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Emmaline, it is quite the pleasure.” Emmaline glanced from him to Harry and she met his eye and said, “Likewise,” and then she smiled at Louis, and she winked.  Harry rolled his eyes, and the boys hooted.  She slapped her palm on the bar, and she stood up.  And she leaned forward, leaned into Harry’s ear, whispered, “Keep the ginger ale, Eddy.”  And then she was gone, and Harry felt himself inhale, and he smelled caramel and smoke and whiskey and Louis hooted and Harry didn’t hear him, just watched as she walked away, watched as she was enveloped into a group of girls.  “Harry,” Zayn said, coming around to her seat, “I think she left something.”  A napkin.  And a phone number. What a cliche.  “I’m into it,” Niall announced excitedly, picking up the napkin.  Harry rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t last two minutes with her,” he muttered, pulling away the number. “You’re rude,” Niall said, crossing his arms across his chest petulantly. Louis grabbed it from Harry’s hands, dancing around to lean on the bar. “I could last longer than he could. I could last longer than you could. I could last longer than the two of you combined!”  Niall made a face, and Zayn giggled (he tended to do that when he was drunk) and said, “You’ve got a dirty mind, church boy!” Liam grinned and snatched the napkin away, pulling out his mobile.  “Right then,” he said, thumbing in the number.  “No!” Harry yelped, darting forward and pulling it back. “No, no, you’re not about to make a fool of yourself over a pretty girl. Scatter. All of you. You’re all pissed, and you’re going to make a stupid mistake.”  Louis pouted and crossed his arms. “You’re no fun,” he whined.  “I would never make a stupid mistake,” Liam insisted. “I am the most responsible member of the band, and, as the most responsible member of the band, I say that we should call the number and get Harry laid!”  The boys all cheered, and Harry rolled his eyes.  “Call it, Harry!” Zayn exclaimed.  “No.”  “Fine, then,” Louis said, waving the bartender over. “Five shots, hm, lad? Make it snappy.”  “Call it,” Zayn said again.  And then he said, “Or I will!” And he grinned and Harry almost replied -  But the bartender was faster, and there were five glasses in front of them, and Liam reached for one (most responsible member of the band, my arse, Harry thought), but Louis slapped his hand away.  “Go, Styles,” he said.  “Me?”  “Yes, you, Harry Styles, the one and only, go.”  “Go what?”  “Do it, Harry!” Niall said enthusiastically. “Come on!”  Harry pursed his lips and almost shook his head, and then Zayn pushed a glass towards him, and Harry could never say no to Zayn, and then he tipped the shot glass back, and it burned down his throat, and bloody hell that felt good.  And then he did it again.  And again, and again, and again, and again, and then there were five empty shot glasses upside down on the counter, and Harry couldn’t think straight and his stomach had butterflies and he blamed it all on Zayn. 

***** 

He was still drunk, but Harry told himself it was fading.  He stared at the ceiling of the limousine, his hands folded on Zayn’s leg, which was thrown across his lap. They were all sleeping, and Niall’s head was on his shoulder, and Zayn had his leg over Harry’s, and Louis was curled up with his head on Zayn’s leg, and Liam was drooling on Niall’s left calf, and Harry was border-line uncomfortable, but he didn’t care enough to complain.  He couldn’t get her out of his head.  He could still smell smoke on his jacket (which was probably from Zayn or Louis, really), and he kept thinking of her, of her voice, of her eyes, of the smell of caramel and whiskey and cheap cigarettes, of ginger ale.  *****

He called her when he got home.  “Who’s this?”  “I’m bored.”  “It’s a pleasure, bored. I’m Emmaline.”  “Well, Emmaline, I think we should meet.”  “Eddy, it’s midnight.”  “I know, isn’t it wonderful?”  He heard her laugh, and she said, “I’ll text you an address. The door’s open.”  And then she hung up.  *****

She lived in a flat a few blocks away, and Harry opened the door, and he was almost nervous.  But not quite.  She was there, watching TV, her leg on a footstool, throwing popcorn in her mouth, still wearing the black dress, and Harry smelled caramel and smoke, and there was a window behind her, and through the shades, moonlight streamed in, and Harry thought he was dreaming, because she really was gorgeous.  There was a cactus on the windowsill, and Harry felt himself smile.  Of course there was.  “Heya, Eddy,” she yawned, stretching her arms towards the ceiling.  “Emma,” he said, and she grinned, and she stood up, and she walked over to him.  And then she kissed him, and she tasted like caramel, of course, and mint and whiskey and bloody jasmine and Harry smiled through the kiss and turned her around, and she giggled and kissed him and everything was perfect. 

*** The next morning, Harry had a pounding headache. 

He struggled up through the pain, and he pulled on his clothes, and he found a piece of paper, and he scribbled down a note with something along the lines of Call me, and he kissed her nose, and he regretted leaving for a split second because she was so bloody beautiful.  And then he walked out the door.  *****

Three weeks later, he’d gotten a phone call.  Kind of.  He’d missed it.  Hadn’t picked it up.  And then, he’d listened to the voicemail. “Hey, Eddy.”  She sounded like honey.  “So, I’m having your baby.”  What?  “And, uh… Yeah. Just thought you should know. Okay, bye!”  And that… was it.  What the fuck? Call Back Voicemail.  “Emma, call me. I’m sorry I missed your call, but call me.”  Call Back.  Voicemail.  “Dammit, Emmaline, I need to talk to you.”  Call Back.  Voicemail.  “Emmaline, what the bloody hell does that message mean? Call me, Emma.”  *****

He never heard back from her.  He tried. For weeks.  Months, really. And she never picked up, never answered, and soon, he got a different message.  “We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.” **********

Three Years Later

Harry was at his desk, and his clock said 3:16 am, and he was pulling out a blank piece of paper, and he kept glancing at his phone, and then a melody came into his head, and he didn’t know where it was from, but he wrote.  He wrote until the sun came up, keeping every single page, just writing without a filter.  It was nonsense.  Complete and utter nonsense.  But a slow grin spread across his face, because he liked it. He opened his laptop and typed in his question, and he grinned, because he liked that, too.  And he grabbed his pencil, and he titled the notebook page with the most nonsense.  Kiwi. 

**********

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