#and i have resigned myself to what’s probably going to happen tomorrow but fuck. what i would GIVE for a sewis/yuki podium god PLES

[milflewis]

Seb made it into Q3 and was so soft and grateful and emotional and teary and full of love for this track and hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

We all saw Lando's life flashing before our eyes for a sec bc Max was being Max but he only got a reprimand because... well we know why. It's doomsday tomorrow.

Lewis without podium hope but still smiling and vibing

Pierre and Yuki absolutely raging because of apparent brake issues or sth

Daniel basically made it official that he won't be there next year so that's a ruined weekend right here

But ugh again Seb was having such a happy and such an emotional day and !!!!! he's the only one that matters this GP

this was a rollercoaster from start to finish. thank u

#pls i love suzuka and i love how seb loves it and what it means to yuki #and i have resigned myself to what’s probably going to happen tomorrow but fuck. what i would GIVE for a sewis/yuki podium god PLES #i am ignoring yukierre for mental health reasons and lol imagine max breaking the rules n getting away w it. wild #‘​lewis without podium hope but smiling n vibing’ literally the summary of this year i am going to CRY #anon tag #niamh.asks

[voidthewanderer]

Death mention tw under cut.

so… I may or may not have a job. It’s kind of up in the air at the moment (though I’m leaning towards resigning tomorrow honestly). I was bawling my eyes out since like 9:40 this morning because I learned that my grandfather’s health is declining. This is a man who has supported me the most with my art. He’s been my inspiration, my mentor. He’s the one who told me to be unapologetically myself. Not to mention, there hasn’t been the threat of family death for ten years (not including myself). Of course, she knows that I do not process this type of information well, is going to be fucking upset over it.

But instead of just giving me my task and letting me alone, she harassed me. She kept demanding to know what changed to make me like this. To get over it because it’s just a fact of life. Her tone honestly made it sound like I was just making this shit up to get out of work. Like no??? If I wanted to get out of work, I’d quit. You don’t fucking tell this to someone who nearly died three years ago. Especially not in an accusatory “get the fuck over it” tone. I know it’s inevitable, but he’s the person who shaped my goddamn life.

So, she kicked me out of the store, bitching that I’m treating her like a monster and that I should be grateful that she bends over backwards for us way more than she should. Which is a fucking lie. If she bent over backwards for us, I wouldn’t be working any closings. I would be working in the pharmacy. I would have gotten my transfer a year and a half ago like I had asked. She’d use my actual name and not my dead name. She would have given me the inventory specialist position knowing that I’m a better fit for it (was already doing inventory counts, stocking, receiving, call ins, and merchandising for a year and a half) and not the person who she favors because he asked for it first (zero training on what the position entails).

I agreed to do what she told me to do. After the agreement, I wanted to be left alone. She’s the person who chose to push me further and further. And then for her to turn around and tell me I cannot have my phone on me while I’m on standby for a potential family emergency? I finally turned around and snapped at her. I was going to be working in the cooler; my phone doesn’t work in the cooler. I would have been using it for a clock. She got pissed off at me because I checked the time to see how long she’d been harassing me for. By the way, it was fifteen minutes. The entire time I was there.

So, I contacted HR. I’m currently in the midst of a family emergency, to treat me like that, yell and cry that I did everything wrong (when you previously told me that they weren’t even going to touch the freezer) and that I need to get over something that she claims to understand what I’m going through (I’m sorry, but if she did, she would have left me the fuck alone). If that’s how I’m going to be treated before the inevitable happens, who’s to say how I’ll be treated after it happens.

Had my ex-uncle not answered his phone at 4am, my grandfather might not have been here now. One day, because he’s not supposed to be walking, he’s gonna fall down and get hurt or he’s gonna fall, my grandmother’s not gonna be able to pick him up, get pissed off, and just leave him there.

I’m seeking a part time job right now. I just need to make at least $300 a month minimum, which I’m sure I can easily get with any part time, I just need the job first. I will also be starting some designs to sell prototypes of, so if you see those crop up, I’d be absolutely delighted if people could give them a reblog and help me out.

No, I will not be starting a GoFundMe. As much as I probably should because I know I need help, I cannot bring myself to just ask for money without anything to give in return.

I suppose I should dip into my down payment funds and get one of those big tank printers, since I’m going to be starting off with stickers, charms, and earrings. I don’t want to, but our itty bitty little inkjet can’t handle mass production of things like that.

#shut it void

[a1sart]

I posted 18,195 times in 2022

That's 16,215 more posts than 2021!

161 posts created (1%)

18,034 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@meeowerzz

@enderspawn

@legogeek33

@manjirian

@shrikeicee

I tagged 10,358 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#dream smp - 2,376 posts

#lego ninjago - 1,382 posts

#mcyt - 1,037 posts

#lol - 877 posts

#wilbur soot - 563 posts

#ranboo - 562 posts

#yes - 509 posts

#double life smp - 483 posts

#rottmnt - 425 posts

#tommyinnit - 419 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#apologizing to my irl friends when i go bowling with them tomorrow and the only thing i'll be talking about is the lore i'll be missing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

*wakes suddenly as if from a nightmare* Tightrope from the greatest showman would make an excellent double life cleo and scott animatic! *collapses back into my nest of blankets and pillows and goes the fuck back to sleep*

44 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

#4

I love that the last ones to actually find their soulmates are also the last 4 left alive. What a happy, poetic little accident.

77 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

#3

does anyone have any tmnt 2012 X rottmnt crossover fic recs that are majority lighthearted? Or is this one of those “guess I’ll have to write it myself” kinda situations?

87 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#2

Princess Charm School takes place in a dystopian future where every state in the US has seceded and become a monarchy.

134 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

so the ninja are canonically celebrities right? which means they have fans

y’know what fans do?

write fanfiction that’s what

headcanons about how the ninja feel about that under the cut :) (cut because this is long not because there’s nsfw headcanons or anything I don’t write that stuff)

Kai fucking loves it. He discovered that people wrote fanfic and he immediately started reading the most popular fics. Eventually he ends up with a ninjago version of an ao3 account (his username is probably fiyaamaster or something) and he makes it public. He shares it on his Chirp. He has all his fanfic boundries listed in his bio. People make memes about him finding their fics. Eventually an offcial “Kai DNI” tag is made because he’s read so many fics. He even wrote a fic once. It becomes the most popular fic on the site. It’s terrible. People quote it in memes. People have started sending him fic recs.

Jay is less enthusastic about fanfic. He thinks it’s weird that people write about him as if he’s a fictional character instead of a person. He doesn’t stop anyone from writing about him or including him in their fics though. The team doesn’t feel complete if one of them is missing and that carries over to fics. So he lets people write about him. He does avoid fics as much as he can though. He doesn’t seek them out.

Cole is resigned about it. He’s accepted that it happens and he can’t stop it. He doesn’t mind. Occasionally he will read one if it seems interesting. He had Kai post his fic boundries on his Chirp because Kai has more followers than him.

Zane is confused by fanfiction. (or at least rpf fanfiction. He completely understands fanfiction for non-rpf fandoms). He understands writing about people in like, a historical context for history books or biographies. But writing completely fictional things about real people? He finds it kind of odd. He has read a couple of fics because kai reccomended them but he doesn’t seek them out.

Nya is sort of amused by them? She reads them ironically if they seem funny but occasionally catches herself reading them completely unironically because the story looks interesting. She sees them as just stories where the characters have the same names as her and her friends. Theres a sort of disconnect between herself and the version of her in fics. She’s serious about her boundries though because she knows other people don’t see it the same way she does. She posted them on her Chirp and had Kai boost it so more people saw. She doesn’t read nearly as many fics as Kai but she does have a solid third place in ninja fic reading at the monastery. (When Nya became the sea a lot people stopped including her in fics because it felt disrespectful. This upset Kai and Jay because it feels like people are covering up her existance. It fueled Jays idea that people were forgetting Nya.)

Lloyd is an absolute fanboy. He used to write fanfic about Starfarer when he was at Darkleys so he is completely unsurprised when he discovers that people write fics about him. He has his boundries on Kai’s Chirp and he reads them if Kai thinks they’re good. He has a ninjago ao3 account that he used to use for starfarer that he uses for ninja fic reading now. He once live streamed a reading for a really prolific meme fic and the chat almost died. He even did voices. Other than that he’s pretty chill about it.

Pixal is on the same page with Zane on the fics thing. She reads more than him though. She has an account (her username is probably something like P.I.X.A.Lao3). She leaves detailed critique in the comments. No one knows it’s her. They all (mostly) assume it’s some random fan account. The fandom has started memes about the mysterious critique account. Theres a “P.I.X.A.Lao3 Please DO interact, actually” tag for her account because she gives genuinely good advice. Theres a conpsiracy theory in the fandom that the account belongs to Pixal but no one likes to think too hard about it. She finds this amusing. Cyrus Borg thinks it’s hilarious.

Wu actually doesn’t care. People have been writing about him since before time had a name. He’s the son of GOD. People write about him all the time. He doesn’t see fic as any different. He’s just used to it. He’s the one holding second place fic reading because of this technicality. He’s read a lot of stuff about him over the years. Not as much as Kai though lol.

Misako doesn’t read fic about herself and never plans to. She doesn’t care all that much.

139 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #oh my god #i'm so mad that the barbie post is number 2 #i can't believe that #also I posted over 18 thousand times????? #and I have never once reached post limit thats crazy #al talks about things #also can't belive a post about how lego ninjas react to fic of themselves based off of my time in the mcyt fanbase is number 1 #it was just a perfect storm of my interests at the time I guess

[mythiccheroacademia]

What You Fight About

part 2

A/N: just something I thought about

Headcanon: what you two would fight about the most

Warnings: toxic behaviors, yelling, cursing, angst

Midoriya Izuku:

his absence

being the number one hero is demanding

it’s also been his dream since he could remember

you understood that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate you when he’d disappear for days at a time

izuku tries to balance his job and home life

but it isn't enough

~~~

You and Izuku don’t fight much. In fact, you never really do. You’re both so compromising that disagreements rarely happen.

But when your kid is involved, that complacency slips away. Even when it comes to one another.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Honey, why won’t you just listen to me?” he begged, but the irritation in his tone gave it more sharpness than he intended. “[S/N] doesn’t need the tutor. It’s just the teacher.”

You began to pick up the leftover toys from floor more so to expel pent up energy rather than to simply clean. You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” Midoriya snipped. His eyes followed you as you discarded the toys and crossed your arms beside the couch, finally giving him your attention. “I think I know my own son, Y/N.”

Izuku cared so much for your child and you knew that. But that underlying message your brain processed within his words pissed you off.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I just don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

An incredulous laugh left your lips before they moved into a frown. “He’s failing 4th grade, Izuku. We can’t move him to a different classroom every time he gets a bad grade. At some point, we have to take responsibility! He needs the extra help!”

“You just don’t understand,” the hero muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What he said shouldn’t have set you off, but it did. Everything suddenly flooded your head. All the stress you had to deal with alone bubbled up your throat and exploded.

“No, you don’t understand!”

“Yes I do!”

“How!? You’re barely in his fucking life anyways!”

It went silent shortly after that.

The outburst felt good, but the aftermath made your squeeze with guilt. Izuku’s frown softened into shock before melting into something deeper than pain.

Once your words finally processed through your head, you immediately tried to take it back.

“Izuku, I didn’t mean that—”

“Yes you did.”

You thickly swallowed and averted your eyes to the floor. He was right. You did. You’d been wanting to say it for so long, but this wasn’t the way you planned to deliver those thoughts.

Your gaze moved back to your husband once he gathered his duffle bag and slid on his shoes.

“Baby,” you sighed, your voice much softer than before. It was almost insane how easily the anger left you. “Where are you going?”

You wilted with his next words. “I’ll stay over at the agency. To give you some space. We’ll talk more after we’ve both cooled down,” he sadly smiled.

Despite the hurt silver-lining his green eyes, Midoriya softly held your chin and kissed your forehead. Something he always did when your disagreements didn’t end on a good note. As if to reassure you that, even though he was upset, he still loved you all the same.

And that just made you feel worse.

“’Zuku—”

“Don’t worry about [S/N]. I’ll take him to school tomorrow.” He paused to look you in your eyes. “I love you, always.”

“I love you too,” you quietly resigned and watched him disappear behind the front door leaving you to let your head fall into your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki

his jealousy

bakugo is confident in many areas of his life

it’s one of his qualities that won you over

but he still had those tiny insecurities that showed up in large ways

aka losing you

and he had no idea how to handle it

~~~

The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea considering Bakugo was already noticeably pissed on the way to the house party. But everyone assumed it was just another one of his moods he’d get over sooner or later. He wasn’t a drinker, but a beer or two usually loosened him up.

However, your friends looked at each other with worry behind the door to the room you two were in. Despite the party lights and booming stereo, they could hear the angry muffled yelling you two were doing.

You were 100% drunk, but you were 110% sure this man was telling you to stay away from your friend. Your best friend.

“If it’s one thing you have, it’s the audacity,” you sassily quipped.

“I’m not fucking playing around with you, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped with too much bite than you cared to hear. “I want you to stay away from that two-bagged eyed bastard!”

“You always do this! Shinsou’s my friend!”

The redness in his ears wasn’t only from the drinks as his nostrils flared with barely contained irritation. “Friend my ass. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, and that fucker had the nerve to grab you in front of me!”

“He was moving me out of the way!”

“He fucking felt you up is what he did!”

You smacked your teeth, entirely done with the argument. You weren’t getting anywhere. “Now you’re just being delusional.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out in a desperate attempt to calm himself. A feat even he was surprised about considering the situation. He tried so hard to not be as explosive, to reign in his emotions, for you. But his jealousy burned hot within his veins.

“Y/N. I’m asking you, as your man, to put some distance between you and Shinsou,” he lowly warned.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Like hell I will. Hitoshi’s been here longer than you have by years. I’m not gonna drop him just because you feel insecure.”

That withered away any form of self-restraint Katsuki had left. He felt exposed and hurt. And dealt with that the best way he knew how.

His hazy brain clouded over with anger and he went on the defensive.

“I bet you want him.”

“What? No I don’t?”

“You’re probably sleeping with him behind my fucking back,” he dryly laughed. “Am I not good enough anymore? Is that it?”

You were quickly sobering up. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Of course not! I’m not a cheater!”

“Then why won’t cut him off, damn it!?”

Your voices rose in volumes too high for comfort. The crackle in his palms didn’t scare you one bit, but it was enough for Kirishima and Mina to come in and try to separate you two.

You ignored their pleading and the two of your found each other in the other’s face.

“Why are you so jealous!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!”

“NO HE’S NOT!

“IT’S SO EASY FOR YOU TO DEFEND HIM AND PROBABLY JUST AS EASY FOR YOU TO SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS—"

A resounding slap cut him short. That seemed to snap him out of whatever alcohol induced rage he was in. However, Bakugo only had a moment to register your expression of disgust before Kirishima pulled him away.

“Fuck you, asshole” was the last thing you said before Mina lead into the hallway.

Kirishima watched his friend’s breathing turn ragged with each puff.

“Come on, man. Let’s just—”

“FUCK!” Katsuki roared before throwing a nearby water bottle to the floor. He fisted his hair and clenched his teeth.

He messed up. Big time.

And as upset as he was with himself, he couldn’t help but be even angrier at the thought of who you’d run to first.

Todoroki Shouto:

how blunt he is

he was a bit socially inept and you loved him for that

but sometimes, you get frustrated

todoroki does too because 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t understand why

when you get angry, he completely shuts down bc he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way

and it didn’t help that he was petty asf

~~~

“Okay.”

You looked up and folded your lips in a tight line. It was the same monotone answer he’d been giving you all day and it was getting on your nerves.

“Sho, baby, can you at least try and act like you somewhat care about this vacation we’re planning,” you said as sweetly as possible.

Although you were annoyed, you understood that things flew over your boyfriend’s head sometimes and, hopefully, a little nudge would point him in the right direction.

“I’m listening, prince(ss),” he dimly responded.

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was reading at the table and it made you huff. Folding up the magazine, you just stalked your way out of the kitchen.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll do it myself.”

That made Shouto look up. His brows furrowed in confusion and he caught your hand before you could completely pass by him. Why were you suddenly upset? He told you he was listening.  

“Hey, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked.

You let him pull you in between his legs. He looked genuinely lost and it was enough to soften your exterior.

“I just feel like you don’t care sometimes,” you said, deciding to just be blunt.

“Huh?” he hummed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…it just seems like you don’t have an interest in anything I have to say if it doesn’t involve hero work, your family, or something like that.”

Todoroki took offense to that. Of course he cared about what you had to say. He loved you. Just because he wasn’t gripping on to every word you spoke in mundane life didn’t mean he didn’t care.

There were ways to express his thoughts, but Shouto wasn’t always the best at gently doing it.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” he said.

You looked off to the side for a second before looking down at him. “Well that’s how I feel,” you retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong.”

You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. However, he just stared back at you as if there was nothing else left to say. The silence was sickening.

You snatched your hand out his grip. “Okay, Shouto,” you bit and left.

He hadn’t heard his first name in a while.

Your boyfriend dumbly blinked already feeling more lost. He didn’t understand why you were so angry.

He called Midoriya about it and was told he was being intolerant. The entire conversation honestly made him feel like an asshole and Todoroki didn’t like that at all. So he gave you some space before finding you in the kitchen again, this time equipped to right his wrongs—even though he still wasn’t entirely sure what he did.

He called your name once and instead of responding, you just kept going about your task. That sort of miffed him, but he tried again. This time, you hummed back but the tension behind it made him feel defensive for some odd reason.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

“What? Are my feelings suddenly valid to you now?” you sarcastically replied.

Todoroki raised a sharp brow at your attitude and decided he was over it already. Here he was trying to apologize, and you were being difficult. He wouldn’t fight with you over something so insignificant.

“Fine. When you’re done with your little tantrum, we can talk about this like adults.”

You’d never spun around so quickly. “Really, Todoroki?”

Last name basis. Petty.

But he was even pettier.

“Yes, really, [L/N].”

His half-lidded bored stare made your scalp prickle.

“Fine. Me and my little tantrum are gonna go somewhere and you can plan the vacation all by yourself like the adult you are.”

“Fine. I’d probably get it done faster anyways.”

You let out an offended gasp. “Fine!”

“Fine!” he tsked, crossing his arms.

You two looked away from one another and stomped out of the room in childish anger.

#bnha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #bnha #mha #bnha bakugo x reader

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

Bundy

Cult girl gets some unbelievable news.

Trigger warnings: death, emotional manipulation, discussion of cult leaders Koresh, Jones as well as Ted Bundy

"Who the fuck are you, and what the shit are you doing with my dead cousin's phone?" You said, the slam of the car door audible from the speaker.

"Cheerio to you too, [F/N]." Anna answered.

You brought the phone to your chest to muffle the speaker and heaved a sigh.

"It's fucking Anna." You told Hannibal as he climbed into the car.

He buckled his seatbelt. "Put it on speaker."

You pressed the speaker button. "Froot Loops. Why do you have Theresa's phone?"

"Don't you remember?" She asked. "I took it when she died. Hers had a much better camera than my old one. I thought I told you to update that in your contacts?"

"Oh yeah, I do remember that." You nodded. "The body wasn't even cold and you'd already gotten to grave-robbing."

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about." Anna snapped. "Show a little respect."

You rolled your eyes so far back into your skull you could practically see your brain cells dying. "Why are you calling, Anna? I'm fairly fucking certain I told both you and grandma to never speak to me again."

"Well, grandma won't be doing much speaking anymore." Anna snapped. "Because she's dead."

You sighed. It wasn’t the first time you heard those words, and it was never true. Faking her death was the hammer in her gaslighter toolkit. Meaning that the desired outcome could be produced just as effectively using a combination of other tools, but none were as efficient as a good old-fashioned bashing. The first time, you went through the whole five stages in ten minutes to really sell that you felt something other than relief at her passing. This time, you didn’t have the energy. 

“Did somebody finally strangle her to death?” You asked. “Shame, I would have liked to do it myself.” 

“Are you so completely void of human emotion that you can’t even pretend to be sad?” Anna shouted. 

“No, because I think this is another one of her manipulations.” You explained. “She probably roped you in thinking I’d believe it if it came out of your mouth. But the joke’s on her, because you’ve been her puppet since preschool.”

“You really are something else, [F/N].” Her voice wobbled, as if on the verge of tears. “The woman who raised us had a stroke and died. That’s not a manipulation, it’s the truth!” 

You began to consider the possibility that Anna wasn’t lying. Your voice took on a more solemn tone as you resigned to give her the benefit of the doubt. "A stroke, huh?"

"She died in the hospital." She said, softly.

There was real emotion in her voice. You thought back to that high school production of Legally Blonde, which proved that she was not skilled enough at acting to fake it.

You sighed. The crushing realization that you may very well have been the jerk in this conversation hit you. "So, what now?"

"I know better than to ask you to help out with the funeral." She said. "You didn't come to Theresa's, after all."

The reason you gave for not going to Theresa's funeral was schoolwork. It was a flimsy excuse, but hid your real reasons well enough. Those were much touchier. You couldn't bear the thought of listening to people lie and embellish stories of your cousin's positive influences on people's lives. But you also couldn't bear the fact that at least some of it wouldn't be lies.

You were the one that killed her. Your fiancé chopped up her body and served it to your friends for dinner. Theresa was a sociopath, a narcissist, and plenty other highlights in the DSM-5, but the pain she left after her death was real. It was the most real thing about her. You weren't desensitized enough to face that.

"Good call." You answered, flatly.

"Liam and I will be flying out tomorrow night." She said. "I know I'm in no position to be asking for favors, but if you could come pick us up from the airport-"

"Sure." You answered with a nod. You didn't know what exactly you were agreeing to as you did. Anna's words were just dissipating into the air, hardly reaching your ears.

"Thanks." She said, as emotionlessly as you. That was perhaps the most mutual understanding you'd ever achieved with Anna. And it only lasted a couple of seconds.

That was about as natural a conclusion to the conversation as you could have hoped for, so you hung up.

Hannibal pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. "What are you thinking, love?"

You leaned your head against the window and looked up at the few visible stars. "I've spent so many years wishing her dead and now that it's finally happening, I don't know what to feel."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, knowing exactly how to keep you grounded when your mind started to wander off. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. He kissed you on the head.

"I thought her dying meant I never had to think about her again." You shrugged. "But now I'm thinking about her and hating every minute of it. And that probably means I loved her. Which is terrifying to think about."

"You think about Jim Jones and David Koresh quite a bit, don't you?" Hannibal asked, squeezing you tight. "Do you love them?"

You shook your head. "That's different. That's academic curiosity."

"But why do we remember them?" Hannibal posited, stroking your arm. "Is it reverence?"

"It's to learn." You answered. "To make sure history doesn't repeat itself."

"Death isn't a sacred thing, my love." He whispered. "Don't feel bad for remembering her as cruel. That's what she was. Don't let anyone forget it."

You chuckled. "Did you know that when Ted Bundy died, a bunch of people near the prison shut their breakers off so the electrocution would be more painful?"

"Interesting." He said, referring less to the fact itself and more to the reason why it came to mind when it did.

"That is to say, I don't actually feel bad that she's dead." You clarified. "I feel bad because I know I should and I don't."

Hannibal pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I thought after four blissful years together, you would know you don't have to pretend around me."

You lowered your head. "I guess I'm just scared that if I take off my person suit around you, I'll never be able to put it back on."

"You never need to worry about that, my love." He assured you. “I know it’s scary, but all it takes is a little practice.” 

“In that case,” You felt a smile creeping onto your face, so you let it. “I think we should celebrate.” 

"Well that can be arranged." Hannibal rolled your hair. "With a bottle of Cava in my office."

You felt a laugh coming on, but it just came out as an ugly wheeze. "That is so unethical. I would love to."

"No," He corrected, opening the driver's side door. "It would be unethical to empty a bottle of wine down that pretty throat of yours without a little food."

"It's the middle of the night, Hanni." You objected, though the rumbling of your stomach told a different story. You slammed the car door shut.

Hannibal smiled to himself, disregarding your protests entirely. "Foie gras au torchon, with a bit of brioche, perhaps?"

"Well that sounds like a proper celebration." You grinned, tightening your grip on your clutch excitedly. “Do you mind if I get cleaned up?” 

“Of course not, love, take your time.” Hannibal said, releasing you from his embrace. 

You headed towards the house, a little extra spring in your step. 

“Oh, [F/N]?” He called out after you. 

You looked over your shoulder. “Yeah?” 

“That thing you said about Ted Bundy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s a myth.” 

You frowned, feeling kind of stupid. “Shit. I really wanted it to be true.” 

Hannibal smiled, reassuringly. “But hundreds of people still celebrated his death.” 

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #tw death #tw emotional abuse #true crime #i guess?

[calunasteria]

please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- wherein sanzu haruchiyo falls in love. that's all. (i'm bad at summarising my stories, i'm sorry ><)

current word count: 3.1k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

01 ! please,xanny.

-

what was it? was it the alcohol? was it the food they ate earlier? maybe it was spoiled, or worse, maybe it has drugs? probably no.

 maybe she's just overthinking things.

maybe she's just imagining all of this.

to say that she's inloveㅡ no, cross that out, to say that he's inlove is dangerous.

but how is it that the sanzu haruchiyo, bonten's number 2, is making her feel numerous things?

he reeked of instability, insanity.

yet his touch was as soft as the cotton, gentle like the wind, it was comforting.

say....

have you ever known what it felt like to drive on highways, with gnawing trepidation?

to taste betrayal and fondness while running on an endless tunnel of vague roads?

to be loved by none other than sanzu haruchiyo?

-

"welcome everyone, to our company's afterparty, please enjoy yourselves for tonight!" honey dripping voice echoed throughout the wide spaced room that is decorated with some dimmed and flashing lights, shimmering crystals plastered on the wall, extravagant leather couches, and large, black speakers booming with music. her soft, delicate hands then set the microphone down, as her wavy jet black hair bounced and swayed as she walked down the stairs with elegance.

"nakashima-san, the director wants to talk to you, he said to head towards the VIP area, over there." a small voice beside the stairs managed to squeak out, catching the girl's attention and turning her head to the direction he pointed at.

"did he told you the reason why he wanted to talk to me?" she asked, voice filled with a hint of irritation and tiredness - the complete opposite of how she sounded earlier on the stage. the boy shook his head, then uttered 'excuse me' before dashing away from his superior.

the girl then just sighed and walked towards the bar counter, which is the complete opposite of the direction she was told to go.

"one grey goose martini and a plain cranberry juice, please. thank you." she ordered as she sat down.

"wow, you're actually gonna drink tonight, kasumi? are your shits finally getting to you, girl?" the lady beside her stated with amusement as she popped out of nowhere, a glass of whiskey found in her hand, still laughing and smiling drunkenly.

"yes, kaoru. where the fuck were you? you were supposed to be the one to speak up front earlier to welcome the guests, not me, because i was the one who arranged this. and now boss said he wanted to talk to me about something." kasumi vented to her friend while her friend's grin just got wider, further infuriating her.

"whY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING KAORU I-"

"calm the fuck down, kasumi, don't let boss get into your nerves, okay? its just me, so inhale, exhale. nice! see, just go drink your shits and talk to boss later. maybe hand in your resignation slip, you know?" kaoru laughed while wiggling her eyebrows and hugging kasumi.

the two talked to each other for a while before kasumi bid her goodbye and stood up to head to the direction she was supposed to go to earlier.

her heels clacked on the expensive marbled flooring while her black silk dress hugged her curvaceous body, gently flowing while walking.

upon reaching her destination, there she saw her boss with at least 4 women whispering and flirting with him, one on his lap and 3 beside him, along side with his other friends and acquaintances. they both shared a glance momentarily as kasumi forcefully smiled to her boss.

"ah yes, everyone, excuse me for i have something to finish up with my personal assistant." her boss announced to all the people around him, making kasumi uncomfortable and embarrassed, by all the stares she accumulated and daggers she got from the women who was flirting earlier with her boss.

"let's go, darling." sentence uttered by her boss before they left the place with him grabbing her wrist, and oh heavenly archons how irritated kasumi was because of her boss' actions and words.

she was practically being dragged away the from the event area, their shoes resonating throughout the empty hallways that are connected to the parking lot when she asked him, "excuse me sir, but where are we going? i thought you said you wanted to talk to me?"

"hmmm, yes. that's right, don't worry, kasumi-chan, we're just going to talk while where on a late night drive, and it'll definitely enlighten you. now get in the car." he ordered with flirty yet stern voice but kasumi did not budge at all - she just stared in disbelief to her boss, anger bubbling up within her.

"kasumi, we both know that i don't like repeating myself, now do what i said, please."

"i'm sorry but i don't think i'll go with you since we can talk here. so just say what you need to say so i can get on with my life, thank you." she declared cheekily.

"i said get in the car, why are yo-" he blurted out with annoyance but was cut off when kasumi said, "seems to me like you don't have anything to say, well i have one, i'm resigning, kitamura-san, i'll hand the file tomorrow, so if you have any requests, tell them to your next assistant." then proceeds to walk away that made her boss snap.

rushing towards her with malice and anger, with his system being controlled by the alcohol he consumed earlier, he grabbed kasumi's hair making her stumble and lose her balance, while the towering man held her waist with his left arm and his right arm held her face forcefully, and whispered to her from behind, "that's what i hate about you, you're so fucking stubborn, you and your smart ass mouth, i hate it so fucking much makes me want to shove my dick down your throat to make you obey me, and cry you bitch."

kasumi had chills run down her spine when she heard her boss mutter those words to her, and when she felt him grinding on her from behind ㅡ the last string of patience she had snapped in half, all she can see was red.

she used all her strength to stomp on the man's foot making him clutch down because of pain inflicted by her stiletto, releasing his hands that grasped her smaller frame. her hands then moved swiftly with anger to slap the man before her, knees being lifted up to kick his crotch making him to finally crumple down on the floor, silently mumbling profanities under his breath containing hatred.

"the next time you pull that stunt with me, or with other girls, i'll make sure you won't have something called dick after that." she threatened, voice laced with venom as she tried to wipe the ruffles that ruined her expensive, dusk colored dress.

"don't think you'll get away with this, bitch." the man croaked out while standing up, eyes filled with animosity, but then falling on his knees once again when a sharp, solid whipping sound tore through his thighs, vermillion colored blood gushing out of the gaping hole that was shot, followed by his shrill, agonized wail.

"seems like you grew stronger these past few years, kasumi-chan." a familiar voice grinned, few meters away from her.

"haruchiyo." she whispered under her breath, astounded.

***

"kasumi? are you listening?" a soft feminine voice spoke out, breaking the deep trance the raven coloured hair girl was in - chasmic ebony eyes stared at the person next to her, embarrassment creeping up in her system, realizing that she hasn't paid any attention to the words and sentences that her friend was telling her.

"i'm sorry, kaoru. what were you saying again?" she apologized, tuning her attention towards her half eaten sandwich that she was munching earlier.

"i was asking you if you know that boy over there, 5 o'clock," kasumi whipped her head towards the direction her friend gave her, eyes landing on a somewhat familiar person - he had a medium length hair dyed with bleach blonde, eyes glimmering like precious blue zircon gem, long and beautiful eyelashes that highlighted his daring eyes and a noticeable black mask covering half of his face. he looked so serene among the vast crowd  filled with bustling people.

"sanzu?" she asked turning her head to her friend who's eyes sparked with curiosity and underlying suspicions.

"how'd you know him?" the petite girl squinted her eyes to her friend, making kasumi roll her ebony orbs. "i just happen to know his name. after all, he's in a gang, right? toman, i think."

"i wasn't aware that you know about gangs, kasumi-chan. perhaps you like their leader, huh." her friend teased earning another eye roll from her brunette friend. "i'm just kidding. its just that i haven't saw him without his mask. some people say he has nasty scar on both side of his mouth, and i don't know if its legit, but given the fact that he wears that mask, its probably true." kaoru shrugged and stood up to head to their class.

sanzu haruchiyo. he was definitely mysterious, kasumi mused, as she walked. he was quiet and he had a calm demeanor when he talks. they weren't close but they shared a small talk in the past, and usually its just about school, like each of their classes borrowing and returning some school supplies and other little things. she never even heard him speak more than 7 words. well, it wasn't a big deal, since she thinks that he's just an another person on this world who has probably their own shits to deal with. he was insignificant to her as she was to him. or so she thought.

their room was filled with silent mumblings, a heavenly boring stupor that kasumi tried to fight, heavily lidded eyes blinking slowly in the hopes of trying to understand their lesson - she was tired and sleepy and it was not long until their class ended, her mind being awakened once again like a newborn baby, because she's going home.

their house reeked of alcohol and despair, of cigarettes and sorrow - it was a hopeless sight. everything was a mess. kasumi then heard a faint coughing on their kitchen and there she saw her ill mother who's trying to wash the dishes with her frail arms, her thin and small frame found her daughter who rushed to her side to help her do the chores but then just told her to sit down and rest.

"mama, you're not supposed to be doing that. you're the one here who needs to rest, i can handle that. besides, where's papa?"

"he's out, i think. but don't worry, kasumi i'm almost finished. we can then eat dinner afterwards so you can talk to me about what happened today with you? you don't have work tonight, right sweetheart?" her mother's voice was definitely her haven, it was warm and sweet. "yes, sure." the girl replied, already at ease but then her phone chimed loudly, signaling that someone texted her - it was her co-worker that texted her he can't attend his shift, and was asking kasumi to be the one to replace him for the mean time.

what are the fucking odds.

her mother noticed the younger's change of emotion and asked, "who was it, sweetheart?" and it pained kasumi to leave her mother alone again but she needs to work. she needs the money. "i need to go, i actually have work since im covering for my co-worker's shift. i'll be right back, so make sure you eat your dinner. i love you." she kissed her mother on her forehead before she left.

***

"thank you, come again!" the girl chimed in, weariness evident in her voice. it was 2:30am and god knows how tired she was. this was supposed to be her day off but the universe just straight up said no.

"nakashima-san, i'm so sorry, you can now go, i'll take it from here on. please take this on your way home as a compensation for what you did to me. thank you! take care on your way home." her co-worker apologized, shyly smiling and blush evident on his cheeks as he handed her a plastic bag filled with some foods and snacks.

kasumi uttered her thanks, with a small smile as she went to change her clothes to go home already as all she wants to do right now was sleep and rest.

upon reaching the store's parking area for bicycles, she noticed that one its tires was flat. she sighed loudly, venting out her exasperation and frustration.

"well, guess i'll walk then. fuckkkkkk. this isn't my day huh." she groaned, muttering some profanities before going on her way home.

it was a chilly night, the breeze was crisp and wintry, with her trembling breath rising up forming a ghostly smoke, vanishing into thin air as she exhales. her whole body was quivering because her cardigan was too thin for this type of weather. kasumi hugged herself in hopes of warming herself up. the skies were tainted with midnight blue perfectly combined with the pitch black heavens decorated with gleaming constellations and stars, along with the dimly hanged moon.

her way home usually takes around 30-40 minutes with her bike, and around an hour and a half if one decides to walk. it was a peaceful and cold night not until she passed this one dark alleyway where there were 2 men laughing their asses off, and another one drinking away his life. kasumi paid no attention to the men and just picked up her walking pace to quickly get out of the picture when her left arm was sharply snatched by one of the men in the dark alleyway.

"hey pretty, wanna have fun with us?" the man grinned like a maniac, his yellow teeth visible and his breath smelled like rum and hostility combined together. the other men laughed like crazy while the last one ogled at kasumi's body.

"no, let me go you ugly bastards." kasumi snapped, snatching her hand away from the man, before turning away to run. she wasn't dumb to not pick up what in fuck was happening back there, so she tried to regain her composure by trying to find her phone to dial the number of her friend who's probably still awake by now to call for help when her hair was maliciously dragged backwards making her lose her balance only to fall on the ground and be dragged away. the plastic bag she was carrying along with her phone was now nowhere to be found.

only her hoarse cry for help was audible, she was too slow, too tired, too exhausted for all of the things happening to her - but her body was flailing so hard, trying to release herself from the man's tight grasp on her hair and it felt like its going to be ripped off her head anytime soon when they stopped on the same alleyway the men were previously drinking. "bitch thought she can get away with us, well let me tell you something sweetheart, we don't take no as an answer. plus you were wearing that thin-ass blouse,  you're trying to seduce us after all so let's have fun shall we?" the bald headed man smirked while he held kasumi down on the ground.

she was terrified, frustrated, and she's doing her best to try and fight them all away. she was able to slap and kick the two of them, desperation was highly evident as she frantically scramble to her feet but that was as far as she can go for she was violently punched and slapped before she fell down with her vision getting hazy, tears streaming down her face non-stop as she lost all her energy to fight. everything was becoming blurry and she was now just hoping for everything to just end.

she was so lost in her train of thought that she didn't even realize that the men who were trying to break and ruin her were now out cold, laying on the freezing ground while a man towered over them.

"stand up." was all kasumi heard when she snap back to reality and saw a figure standing before her, wearing an all black outfit - black jacket, black jeans, and a black mask. his straight bleach colored hair was neatly tied up in a ponytail too.

"stand up." sanzu repeated as kasumi tried to stand up, still shaken by what happened to her and the picture of the scene before her. kasumi then felt something drape over her shoulder when sanzu came near her, his mint and delicate masculine scent filling her senses.

"follow me." was all the boy said before he exited the alleyway leaving her all alone with his jacket that he gave her. following his footsteps, while tightly clutching his jacket, she saw a shiny, and expensive looking car few meters out the alleyway with sanzu standing near it, and as she got closer to him, she heard him say, "get in."

not wanting and not having enough energy to fight nor say anything, kasumi just silently obliged to what he said. after getting inside the vehicle, sanzu followed afterwards, turning on the car and driving to god knows where - kasumi was drained, and she couldn't care less what would happen anymore although she wanted to say and atleast utter her gratitude towards the boy beside her, but her voice just seems to be gone. the car ride with him was silent, but it wasn't awkward. it wasn't uncomfortable. it wasn't scary either, rather, it was surprisingly comforting.

moments later, kasumi saw a familiar house outside her window when sanzu pulled up and opened the door for her, handing her some of the things she brought earlier - her bag and her phone.

he didn't talk, he didn't say anything before heading out and going inside his car once again, and driving away.

kasumi was dumbfounded.

she have so many questions whirling over her head like, how did he know my place? why did he do that?

she entered their house with her head aching - cross that out, with her whole body aching, everything that happened to her this day had taken  a toll on her. she was definitely traumatized and shaken by what happened. with her literally dragging her body towards her room desperate to rest and lay down on the soft and smooth mattress.

and even though she was almost raped, and potentially murdered, the one thing that stuck in her head was sanzu. sanzu haruchiyo.

and she swore to find him tomorrow before she fell into a deep slumber.

#bonten #bonten tokyorev #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers kokonoi #toman sanzu #toman gang

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.I (Rewritten Barista)

As promised, I’m working through finishing my unfinished series - and that includes the Barista AU I had written long ago. I decided it was best to rewrite it considering the first part was originally published 200+ days ago. I’m aiming for 3 parts for this “one-shot AU” but we’ll see where it goes. Please be patient with me - my academic course load is extremely heavy and finding time to write is difficult but I will finish everything I said I would. I’m actually pretty proud of this but if it flops I never wrote it :) 

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 4505 words I’m shocked (I usually get to about 1600-2000 words) 

Taglist: I’m not tagging anyone until I know people want to be tagged for this because I’m nervous and I hate being annoying!!!! If you want to be tagged for a specific pairing please let me know - I’ll try to keep track and remember to actually tag because I’m a forgetful dumbass!

Amy groggily rolled over in her bed, the amount of sleep she was getting had become oddly suspicious because she would never be able to get up before 7 on her own. She rubbed her face gently, her sheets warm and smooth against her skin. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her eyes widening in shock as she read the time on the screen.  

Monday March 30 5:40 am

“Fucking hell I thought I set an alarm!” Amy groaned as she threw the sheets to the side, huffing as she opened the clock app to see, she in fact, did not set an alarm. She sighed, shaking her head as she rushed to the bathroom. 

“Damn it Amy...you need this job…” 

She texted Zig, a mutual friend of Emily Day who introduced them their freshman year of college at Hartfeld before Amy had transferred to Belviore University in New York. Zig graduated and moved to New York and opened a small cafe, only a few years later. 

Zig, I’m going to be late. I missed my alarm this morning. I swear I’ll stay for closing and I won’t be late tomorrow. 

LMAO, Amy if you didn’t set an alarm just say that, I had a feeling this would happen so I told you we opened an hour before we actually do. We don’t open until 7 on Mondays, just Tuesdays-Fridays. 

I am literally going to murder you 0_0. You should prepare to be launched into outer space for this crime. 

Lol I look forward to it - see you at 7. 

Amy turned on the shower, as she grabbed a towel and her shower products from the cabinet, placing them beside the shower door. She discarded her clothes, put her shower playlist on, hopped into the shower and felt a wave of relief that she didn’t blow her first day. After Amy had performed her world tour, she stepped out of the shower with a shiver, the cool air a contrast to her very hot skin. She wrapped herself in the fuzzy towel, briefly glancing at the time, 6:02. She walked out of the bathroom, dropping the towel onto the floor as she opened her closet while she scanned her options for a “casual” outfit that would suffice. She put on her favorite bra and underwear, something about the red lingerie made her feel confident, before she slipped into a pair of dark blue denim skinny jeans. She paired the pants with a black t-shirt as she smiled at herself in the mirror. 

“Not bad Amy, not bad at all.” 

She walked over to her small vanity, one she had built with her father as a teenager over the summer before she left for college. It was one of her most prized possessions, one of the only things she had to remind her of him before he disappeared without a trace. She closed her eyes, recalling the memory fondly before she began to apply a small amount of makeup, just enough to hide her tiredness from the public. She stood from the desk, pleased with her appearance as she made her way to the small apartment kitchen. The empty beer bottles and ps4 controllers cluttered the kitchen as Amy smiled, having remembered celebrating the job with her suitemate Lily. She threw the bottles away and plugged the remotes in for a charge, Lily would thank her for that later. She opened the freezer, making herself two premade waffles as she checked her social media. It might have partially been the exhaustion but those waffles were the best Amy ever had, she wiped her mouth clean and grabbed her bag from the nearby chair. She shot a brief text to Lily, to let her know she hadn’t been kidnapped.

Morning Lily! I went to the cafe for work, just so you don’t end up thinking I got myself kidnapped. Love you, see you tonight! Try not to drink all of the alcohol. 

Amy followed Zig’s text directions through the streets of the city, the bustle of traffic, the mass of pedestrians and the loud construction noises distracting Amy from her path. Amy had never really been in New York’s financial district before, the other civilians' appearances shifting from “Naked Cowboy of Times Square” to “Businessman” only a few streets apart. She glanced at her phone as it instructed her to take a right.

“Oof-” 

Amy jolted at the scalding hot coffee that was hot on her skin, her head turning to meet a woman’s irritated gaze, taking note of the coffee cup that was in her hands. She was dressed like all the other businessmen and women who passed by - her maroon suit now covered in coffee as she huffed in annoyance. Amy met her deep brown eyes that burned right through her, her whole body freezing up as she watched the woman’s lips move. Amy stood in a daze, only coming back to herself when the woman waved her hand in front of her, her face filled with exasperation. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s my first day and I’m kind of lost-”

“Watch where you’re going, this suit is probably worth more than you.” Her voice was silky and satisfying, and oddly soothing given the fact she had probably just stained a $2,000 suit. Amy rushed to open her wallet, holding out a wet 50$ to the woman. The business woman scoffed as she walked away, leaving Amy in a confused state outside of the cafe. 

“Fuck.” Amy sighed, moving to collect her bag as she walked through the cafe door, Zig raised his eyebrows at her as she made her way behind the counter. 

“Well that’s a look.” He jested, Amy turning her head and giving him a death glare as he tossed an apron to her. “Nobody will notice, you can cover it with this. There’s paper towels in the back.” Amy dropped her bag in the break room, gently wiping the coffee away and putting the surprisingly fashionable apron on. When she walked out from the back her jaw dropped as she spotted the woman from earlier standing on the other side of the counter. Their eyes met and the woman’s gaze quickly changed from annoyed to very annoyed at the sight of Amy. 

“Kamilah, you’re back. Wanted to pick up some date-nut pinwheels?” 

“No, I need another black coffee.” She turned back to Zig with a smile, he gave a small nod as Amy began to brew the coffee for her. She placed the lid carefully onto the fresh cup and handed it out to the woman, their fingers brushing for a moment, a blush creeping onto Amy’s cheeks. 

“Thank you.” Her tone was less aggressive than it had been in their first encounter, Amy finally calm enough to take note of the woman’s features. Her brown silky hair that looked like it belonged in a conditioner commercial, her defined jawline and subtle eyeshadow that accentuated her eyes. She watched the way her lips moved as she talked to Zig, Amy feeling her heart jump at the sound of her laugh - light and golden. Amy watched her leave, every step she took she took with such confidence that Amy found herself wanting to follow her out the door. 

“You could be less obvious, you know?” Zig playfully nudged Amy, nearly knocking her over as she shook her head in denial.

“No! I wasn’t!” Amy sighed as she rubbed her temples, Zig’s infectious laugh filling the empty cafe. Amy playfully punched his shoulder as a group of well dressed men stepped through the threshold, Amy moving behind the register to take their orders. The day passed, Amy learning how oddly specific some people like their coffee, and learning all of Zig’s secrets to the perfect iced coffee. Amy looked at the clock as Zig walked to lock the front door - finally closing time. 

“Some of these orders...like ‘I’ll have the grande iced mocha no foam soy hexagon vortex hypotenuse’” Amy waved her hands around as Zig tried to contain a laugh, wiping down the counter as Amy hung her apron up.

“Amy you’re horrible.” Zig made a good attempt at seriousness, their eyes meeting before they continued to laugh which made closing pass by much faster. Zig grabbed the mass of leftover desserts from their respective containers, hovering them over the garbage before Amy stopped him.

“Oh, did you want these?” 

“No, but I can find a better place for them than the trash.” 

“Where? Your stomach?”

“No, the food bank is on the route back to my apartment. We shouldn’t be wasteful, and besides - who wouldn’t love a raspberry crown?” 

“You’ve got a point. I’ll bag these for you then, if you could sweep the floor and put the chairs on the tables that’d be great.” 

When all the cleaning and closing procedures were done Amy headed for the door with her bag in hand, Zig gently tapping her shoulder and holding out an envelope, a key to the cafe and the bag of desserts.

“Okay so I know what’s in here but what is this? A resignation letter?” Amy pouted her bottom lip as Zig rolled his eyes so far back Amy wasn’t sure if they’d come back.

“It’s your share of the tips from today, and the wrapped pastries. Thanks for that suggestion by the way, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.” Zig rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around the pristine cafe, the windows reflecting the moonlight and the tile shimmering as if it were just installed. “Bloody hell, the place looks good...no great. Thank you Amy. Come on let's get outta here, go home - I’ll see you tomorrow at 6. Actually, let me make sure you set 3 different alarms, give me your phone.” Zig held out his hand after he locked the front door, Amy reluctantly handing her iphone over as he set 3 different alarms, all 5 minutes apart. He looked up at her for a moment, smirking before handing her phone back to her and walking off into the city. Amy rolled her eyes, he probably took a selfie on her camera but when she went to check, there was nothing but memes and occasional group photos -what did Zig smirk at then? Amy was too tired to think of it, she made a swift beeline to the food bank, opening the doors and dropping the brown bag of desserts off before making her trip back to the apartment. 

The door opened with a creak, all of the lights turned off as Amy carefully navigated to her room. She switched her lamp on, letting it provide a dim light that didn’t blind Amy because of its intensity. She tossed her bag onto the bed, as she pulled her shirt over her head in one rapid motion. She desperately stripped, throwing her dirty clothes into the laundry basket as she changed into clean lingerie. She slipped into her favorite pair of pajama shorts and pulling her favorite hoodie over her bra - shirts were overrated anyways. Amy crawled onto her bed, crossing her legs while she put her headphones on, pulling up her favorite late-night playlist and letting the slowed music soothe her. She caught a glance at the envelope Zig had given her, she reached over for it and opened it carefully - baffled at the amount of cash laying inside. She slowly laid each bill out, counting the total twice to make sure she hadn’t miscalculated. Working at a cafe in New York’s financial district was definitely going to help her and Lily catch up on their rent and not get evicted. She smiled, tucking away 25% for herself, taking enough for her share of the rent and putting the rest into her locked safe - she’d been saving for a trip to Hawaii since she graduated. She stifled a yawn, closing the safe and tucking herself back into her warm sheets, taking her headphones off and closing her eyes for the night. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The alarm woke Amy up with it’s loud and very obnoxious beeping, Amy wanting nothing more than to throw the phone into the thermosphere. She drowsily stood from her bed, gently tucking the sheets neatly back into place as she turned off the following alarms. She sighed, rubbing her head as she changed into a simple outfit and left out the door to the cafe.

Amy arrived at the cafe, unlocked the front door and turned the lights on, relocking the door behind her because she didn’t need anyone startling her. She moved behind the counter, dropping her bag in the lounge and putting an apron on. She checked the coffee filters, gave the blenders a good washing, set out creamer, sugar and other coffee essentials on the counter and filled supplies back up. Zig suddenly walked through the door, a smile on his face as Amy finished supplying the countertop and putting the pastries out on display, letting Zig prepare himself for opening. 

“You’re early. I’m shocked. College Amy is having a stroke right now.” Amy knocked him in the side, Zig falling back a few steps as he shook his head and put his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright alright no need for violence, come on, let’s open.” Zig turned the “open” sign on and only a minute later did Kamilah appear in the cafe, her suit perfectly fitted, her hair smoothly cascading around her head and down her shoulders and her face relaxed and composed. 

“Good morning Kamilah, what can I get for you?” Zig gestured to the display of desserts and the variety of coffee combinations on the menu above their heads. Kamilah smiling as Zig waved his hands back and forth, Kamilah letting out a soft chuckle. 

“Just a large black coffee and maybe a date-nut pinwheel.” Kamilah spoke to Zig in almost a tender way, as if they were siblings or long-term friends. Amy selected a pinwheel, gently placing it into a small bag and sliding it over the counter towards Kamilah as she began to brew the coffee. 

“How’s Ahmanet Financial?” Zig leaned over the counter, his defined arms nearly breaking through the sleeves of his white shirt. Kamilah tucked the pinwheel bag into a hidden pocket on the inside of her blazer before she turned back to face Zig.

“It’s very successful, our stocks are soaring and we just secured a new business partner.” Kamilah looked proud and for good reason - Ahmanet financial was one of the most powerful corporations out there. Amy topped her coffee off with a lid and handed it to her, their eyes meeting for a moment before Amy turned away, feeling her cheeks turning hot. Kamilah checked her watch, a movado 47 rose gold watch that cost way more than anything Amy had ever come close to owning. “Zig I’d love to chat some other day but I’m afraid I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

She quickly made her way out the door, the bell ringing softly as Kamilah strided away. Amy leaned over the counter with a sigh, Zig nudging her softly. 

“You could be less obvious Amy,” his annoying face smirking at Amy as she rolled her eyes, “you used to be so slick back in college.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Amy threw an empty coffee cup at him as a blonde girl walked into the cafe, her eyes glued to her phone as she recited her order at a rate that nobody could understand. Amy sighed, Zig giving her a pained glance as she went to mix the complicated coffee order. Amy fought back a laugh as Zig found a way to run away to the back when the girl asked for his phone number. Once Amy finished mixing her coffee and sent her out the cafe doors Zig poked his head out of the lounge - his eyes scanning for her.

“Is she gone?” Amy snorted as Zig stepped out from the doorway, his hands running through his hair as he let his shoulders relax. “My god I hate teenagers - they turn eighteen and all of a sudden think they can fuck anyone. I’m like 5 years older than her at least!” 

“Relax buddy, let’s just get through the rest of the day. I’ll handle all the teenage brats and you can handle all the nasty men.” Amy gave him a cheeky grin as they teamwork-ed their way through the rest of the day.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Finally.” Amy rested the broom on the wall, taking in the pristine cafe as Zig finished wiping down the counters. “What a day.” 

“Thank god it’s over.” 

“Zig?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Kamilah always come by the cafe right when we open?”

Zig perked his head up, his brows raised to the top of his head as Amy felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her hands growing sweaty as Zig remained silent. 

“She always comes as soon as we open, she has to be at work early since she is the CEO. Although she never rests, despite everything I’ve told her.” Zig’s head shot to his phone as it buzzed, a text from Emily appearing on the screen and Zig hastily typed away.

“Everything okay Zig?” Amy had a worried expression on her face as Zig let out a long sigh. 

“There’s a road trip for Kaitlyn’s band that leaves in two days that lasts for a week that our group is going on and I can’t go because I need to run the cafe-”

“I can handle it for a week.” Amy spoke firmly, Zig’s eyes widening before he let out a chuckle.

“What if you burn it down?”

“I won’t but then I guess you just have to trust me. Come on Zig - you need a break and you damn well know it. Get out of here for a week.”

“I hate that you’re right. Fine, but if the cafe isn’t standing when I get back, you’re toast.” They both laughed and finished up closing. 

Amy walked towards the food bank, a brisk breeze prompting her to make it one speedy trip so she could bask in her heated apartment. A shriek came from the alley as Amy turned her gaze to see where the yell had come from, a red pair of eyes looking right at her in the darkness. She felt her heart beating out of her chest as she forced her feet to a run, her heart pounding like a drum and ringing in her ears as she huffed through the front doors of the bank - placing the bag on the counter and racing back to her apartment without turning back. 

“Hey girl how was-” Lily sat on the couch with a coke in her hand and the television remote in the other, her smile fading as she met Amy’s eyes. “Amy, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost…”

“I think I’m just hallucinating from exhaustion,” Amy dropped her bag on the floor and took a seat on the couch beside Lily, “anyways tell me about you. We haven’t really had time since we both started working more.”

“Well you should sleep soon but I think we’ll be able to hold the rent for the next few months - with all the money you’re bringing in now in addition to the money my app has started to bring in - I think we’ll be more than fine.” Lily nudged her shoulder, offering Amy a can of coke with a smile as The Vampire Diaries played on the TV. 

“Vampires are so overrated.” Amy groaned as she watched Lily’s eyes become glued to the screen.

“Some of us have taste you know.”

“No, it’s because they’re not real Lily, and the fact that no vampire would ever be attracted to me.” 

Lily rolled her eyes as Amy sipped on her coke, both of them laughing late into the night and being good friends in what had felt like a long time. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy unlocked the cafe doors and shuffled inside, locking the door behind her and leaving her bag on the counter. She hit the light switch as the lights slowly came flickering on as she tied the apron around the back of her neck. She quickly started and finished the morning set-up, the routine becoming second nature since Amy had always been a fast learner. She checked her phone, 6:49 am April 1, 2020. 

“April fools day.” Amy smiled as she contemplated setting up a whipped cream prank on Zig, but decided not to against her deepest desire to see his shocked face. While thinking of ways to mess with Zig through the day, her mind came to test a theory - she began preparing two black coffees - before adding her own twists to one of them. Amy finished and admired her handiwork - the cups looked identical and Kamilah wouldn’t notice until she tasted it. 

Kamilah walked in, her eyes scanning the cafe for Zig as she took a cautious step towards Amy who had a cute little grin on her face.

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee.” Amy handed her a black coffee, the one she had adjusted ever so slightly. She watched as Kamilah brought the cup to her lips, almost taking a sip, before she lowered the cup and leaned her face closer to Amy. 

“What did you do to it? It smells different, and where’s Zig?” Kamilah arched a brow as Amy silently wondered how Kamilah could smell the difference.

“I took a twist with it, I made you your regular too in case you hate it...I just thought you should broaden your horizons…and Zig is coming. He just needs to pack, he’ll be gone after today for a week and I’ll be running the cafe.” Amy smiled softly at the woman who was now leaning dangerously close. 

“I see. And if I hate it?”

“Then I’ll pay for both and I’ll never try to broaden your horizons again…” Amy frowned slightly as Kamilah finally sipped on the drink - her brown eyes widening as she took another, and another.

“It’s...actually pretty good...what did you do to it?” Kamilah took another sip as Amy bounced on her heels, a wide childish grin written across her face. 

“I added a bit of cream and sugar and a bit of caramel! It’s how I like mine!” Amy took her hands behind her back and fiddled with them nervously as Kamilah smiled. Zig walked in just as the clock read 8:05 am and Kamilah left, turning at the door to smile at Amy one last time, lifting the cup up with a smile before entering her car. 

“What’s that smile about Amy?” Zig wagged his fingers at Amy with a classic smirk as he prepared for the shift, Amy resting her head on both of her hands while she leaned over the counter - her legs kicking out behind her. 

“Nothing.” Amy sighed and went back to brewing coffee, her hands aimlessly performing while her mind sat on nothing but the thought of Kamilah - and her damned perfect smile. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy tossed her shoes off as she made her way through the apartment door, one shoe nearly knocking Lily’s head off as she pulled freshly fried chicken from the air fryer. 

“Lily that smells AMAZING!” Amy squealed and made her way over to her, Lily slapping her hand away as she finished the two plates of waffles off with a chicken breast and syrup. “I swear I’ve got the best best friend…” Lily smiled as they both dug into the food, chatting away about their day until Amy let it slip out.

“And there’s this really hot customer-”

“Oh! Spill!” Lily wiggled in her seat like a child, eagerly waiting for Amy to elaborate as Amy stuffed her face with the rest of her waffles. “I’ll wait for you to finish.” Lily smirked and held Amy in an uncomfortable eye contact until Amy finally caved in. 

“She comes in at opening time every single day, and always orders a black coffee. Although I got her to try something new today which I’m really proud of.” The subtle smile that crept up Amy’s face gave it all away to Lily as she let her ramble on, whilst she gave Amy the smirk she hated. “I’m simping aren’t I?”

“There’s nothing wrong with simping. But you have a chance here because Zig won’t be there so you can actually like...take your shot without him ever having to know,” Lily winked and whispered, “and you could totally fuck her in the back-”

“NOPE!” Amy stood up frantically, Lily holding her sides for support and nearly falling out of her chair as Amy rushed to clear her plate. “I hate you! Ohmygoddddddd.” Amy groaned as Lily fell to the floor, her eyes wet with tears at Amy’s reaction more than anything else.

“I’m going to bed!!” 

“Goodnight! Love you Ames!!!”

“Love you too….annoying ass!” 

Amy snorted as she changed into her sleepwear, her body becoming exhausted as she hit the mattress, falling asleep ridiculously fast. 

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Kamilah came through the door, right on time as Amy had come to expect. Amy gazed up from her phone, those dark brown eyes looking right at her as she handed Kamilah her usual black coffee, Kamilah holding it closely before clearing her throat. 

“Can I have the one from yesterday as well?” Amy smiled at her as she began to mix her favorite coffee - Kamilah leaning over the counter to observe. 

“I didn’t think you’d want it again.” Amy said as she added creamer to the mix, the coffee turning golden as she mixed it. 

“A woman can’t appreciate a little variety in her life?” Kamilah leaned against the counter, her hair smoothly gliding over her maroon blazer as she tossed it back - taking a sip from her cup.

“No I just-” Amy topped the cup off with a bit of caramel before enclosing it with the lid, her hands sweaty as she handed it to Kamilah. 

“You just?”

“Thought you’d always like your coffee like your personality.” 

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

The way Kamilah was looking at Amy, she knew she had to choose her next words carefully. 

“Dark, intimidating, a bit bitter at first sip,” Amy hesitated as Kamilah raised a brow, “an...acquired taste.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” 

“Just a little…”

“Hmm, I suppose your coffee is like you if you want to expand your little analogy.” Kamilah glanced at her watch, her expression shifting from playful to work-oriented. Amy felt her heart drop a little as she recomposed herself - back to her refined and disciplined self. Kamilah made her way to the door, the two cups of coffee in her hands as she paused, turning back and looking at Amy - something different about it.

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #mc x kamilah #kamilah the bloodqueen post #bloodbound #bloodbound AU #um so I have a love-hate relationship with this fic #but i am proud of it in it's ways #okay i've been deflecting i need to go do calculus homework and lecture videos

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 3 (Elriel)

I think I might’ve actually died writing the first part of this not going to lie. Also don’t come for me changing the verb tense I’m well aware lol 

Coming next week...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

______________________________________________________________

~Elain~

It’s Saturday night, the first day of what’s shaping up to be a truly unremarkable weekend for Elain. Feyre’s art show’s tomorrow, but that’s the most exciting thing she has planned. 

She can’t remember the last time she’d been excited about something even was, actually. 

Pushing that uncomfortable thought away, she settles further in the bath and sighs. Desperate for entertainment, she tries to focus on the pages of the book in front of her, but her brain won’t cooperate. 

After another ten minutes, she resigns herself to an early night and gets out of the tub, slipping into one of her robes. 

It’s only eleven, but she gets in bed, forgotten book on her night table. Closing her eyes proves she is actually a little tired, because she starts to relax and drift off to sleep. 

But then she hears it.

A low groan sounds through the wall between her apartment and her neighbor’s, and her eyes go wide. She hears two people talk, then a feminine laugh. Which turns into a loud moan a second later.

Oh. My. Gods.

There’s a thud, then sexy, masculine laughter meets her ears.

Some shuffling sounds make Elain bury her head under her pillow,, the blush on her cheeks hot enough to melt the sheets away. This is so horrible.

But no amount of pillows could stop her from hearing what happens next.

The feminine moaning gets louder, then is joined by a loud banging directly on her wall. Was that his... headboard?

Good heavens above, he’s really going for it over there. 

There’s a pause, then the banging gets even more intense. The woman’s moaning is closer now, and she realizes with a start what’s happening. They’d moved against the wall. Her wall.

Oh, he's dead.

She’ll kill him herself if she had to for subjecting her to this. 

Except that’s not exactly what she feels like doing as she hears the asshole practically growl, “Fuck, baby.”

~Azriel~

Mor slaps my chest, giving me a strange look. “Fuck, baby?” she whispers incredulously. “That’s what you say when you get laid?.”

I just roll my eyes and mutter, “Shut up.”

“That’s the most embarrassing, male thing you could ever say. But keep going. The point is to prove you have better stamina, and we’ve only been at this for ten minutes.”

Barely repressing laughter, I wrap her jean-clad legs tighter around my waist and keep moving against her.

When she lets out another ridiculously loud moan, I say quietly, “This is so fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I’m not the one whose whipped.”

In case it isn’t obvious, I really, really regret telling her about Elain.

As soon as she’d heard about Lucien “Shit in the Sack” Vanserra, Mor had been determined to help.

She’s my absolute best friend, the one who knows every sordid detail about my life, and tonight she’s made it her mission in life to help make Elain jealous.

She’s also a lesbian.

“So this is doing nothing for you?” I ask with a frown. I mean, if we were naked, this would be some of my best work.

She gives me a flat look, even as I continue fake-fucking her against the wall. “Not unless you change your name to Azriella and grow a huge pair of-”

“Okay, I get it. Laugh like I said something funny.”

Rolling her eyes, she does, and I force myself to huff a chuckle, too.

Gods, she’s right. I’m whipped. And definitely deranged. For a chick who isn’t even sleeping with me.

If my friends knew, they’d never shut up about it. Mor was the only one I’d told, and that was because she knows how it feels to have feelings for someone and not be able to do anything about it.

Plus, I’d been her fake boyfriend for years in high school before she came out to her parents, so she owes me.

Mor checks her watch and raises her eyebrows. “It’s been fifteen minutes. How long do you usually last?”

It’s my turn to glare. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“I’m just saying, I have a date in an hour.” 

She groans, so I wait until that stops and ask, “With who?”

“That really pretty barista I told you about, so I don’t want to be late. Five more minutes seems good.” I nod, because it’s nice she’s doing this in the first place. “Make em count, champ.”

I think I’m going to kill her one day. 

But I do. 

And by the end, we’re both breathing hard and have made enough noise to wake the whole building. After a very obnoxious climax, I let Mor down. “You realize if she does ever have sex with you you’re going to have to-”

“It won’t be a problem,” I assure her, one-hundred percent confident in that fact. 

She gives me a disbelieving look but just shakes her head and ruffles her hair. Once at the door, she turns and whispers, “She’s going to look out the peep hole, so I’m going to kiss the shit out of you.”

With that, my best friend swings the door open, turns around, and puts on an expression I’ve never seen before. It’s desire and satisfaction and something else entirely I don’t want to read in to. It’s disgusting. 

But I act like the “champ” I am and don’t react, even as she pulls my face down to hers and kisses me. 

Her nails rake down my bare back, and even though this does absolutely nothing for me, I wrap my arms around her and lift her clear off her feet to bring her closer.

Don’t get me wrong, Mor’s beautiful and all, but she’s my best friend, and this is giving me flashbacks to homecoming and prom and every other time we had to put on an act.  

How long till this is over, exactly?

~Elain~

Watching him kiss that woman... Elain can admit it does strange things to her. Like makes her want to storm out and yank them apart, then scream. 

She somehow refraines. 

He finally lets her down, and the rage and frustration builds to an insurmountable level because she’s freaking gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous where Elain was tempted to go kiss her herself. 

How annoying. 

Turning on her heel, she stomps back over to her bed and flops down. 

She’s hot and cold and her core is so tight it's almost painful. 

Never, not once in her entire life, had she thought she’d be turned on hearing something like that. 

But picturing him... doing that, and so close to her own bed... yeah. She’d almost come herself, and she was in a completely different room. 

Gods, she’s pathetic. 

And she can absolutely never see him again. 

That’s beyond obvious.

Terrible liar she is, she knows it would be all over her face. What would she even say? Oh, hey neighbor. Heard you really give that woman a good time last night. So good, in fact, you almost got both of us off. High-five!

Nope. She’d rather move across town before running in to him again. 

Even though the thought makes her strangely sad. 

She falls asleep soon after, mind going back over every tiny detail she’d heard tonight until she’s surprised she can sleep at all. 

~Azriel~

It’s Sunday morning, meaning I don’t have to work. Meaning I don’t have an excuse to see Elain. 

But fuck do I want to. 

I can’t hardly wait for the blush I know will pop up on her cheeks. I probably won’t have to even speak for it to happen. There’s no way she didn’t hear the amazing fake sex I had last night. She probably won’t even be able to look me in the eyes. 

So I wait until I hear her get up and start shuffling around in her apartment. 

Then, like the creep I am, I sit on the couch and wait for her door to open so I can go out and tease her until she slaps me or something. 

But it doesn’t. I sit there until it’s four in the afternoon, and that’s when it dawns. 

She told me herself she checks her garden on Sundays--a fact she knows I know--so the only reason she wouldn’t go... 

She’s trying to avoid me.

A laugh bursts out of me. 

Oh, Elain. Baby girl, that just won’t do. 

I grab my laptop and look up the MOMA exhibits for this weekend, a probably-evil smile already blooming on my face. 

~Elain~

Should I go out the window? 

No, I live on the third floor. 

But... 

After looking at the drop down, she decides that’s definitely not happening. She’ll have to go the normal way. Which means she’ll have to walk by the door next to hers. Which belongs to him. 

Gods, she was sweating already. 

Which isn’t good, since the silk of her dress will definitely show it. Forcing herself to calm down, she grabs her clutch and slowly, quietly, opens the door. 

Empty. 

Before that can change, she hurtles down the hallway and stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when she steps outside. 

It turns into a strangled gasp as she looks up from the cement. 

Her neighbor’s standing in front of her, looking dark and alluring and inexplicably handsome in the twilight sky. 

But that’s not why her breath goes a little shallow. 

The dark jeans, boots, and t-shirts he’s worn every time she’s seen him have now been replaced with a black suit, crisply cut to his tall frame. 

He looks so handsome she can hardly remember she’s supposed to be avoiding him. 

But then the why of that statement comes rushing back, and her cheeks go pink. He looks pleased at that, even as his darkening eyes roam over her frame. 

Her dress is floor-length, but the spaghetti straps and low back make it revealing. That, and the fact that the silk fabric clings to every dip and curve of her figure. 

His eyes notice it all, all the way down to her heel-clad feet and back up to her softly curled hair. 

“Elain.”

It’s just one word, and it’s one she knows well, but it’s somehow everything. 

Now more than ever, she wished she knew his name. It usually seems like a little game, but now it feels like a whole in her chest. She wants to know him. 

Wants to know how to say his name in a way that makes him feel like she feels right now. 

“You look beautiful,” he comments, sliding his hands in the pockets of that damn suit. 

“Thank you. You look nice, too.” Nice? More like devastating. He just shrugs. “Hot date?”

A small smile graces his full lips. “No, that was last night.”

“I’m aware,” she bites out, face starting to heat. Her body’s reliving last night, and she has to force herself not to press her legs together. 

“Just wanted you to know how it’s supposed to be done.”

“How considerate.” 

He steps close, so close they’re sharing air. “Did it bother you, listening to me with another woman?”

She sure as hell can’t tell him the truth, so she says breathlessly, “Not unless you count the nausea.” 

Damn him for turning her into a liar. And damn him for smelling so good.

There’s an arm around her waist, a hand on her hip. He’s so close now that his lips brush her ear as he whispers, “Did it turn you on?”

A whimper escapes her lips, so she bites one to keep herself quiet as she shakes her head no. 

“Elain, you are such a little liar,” he scolds, pulling away to smirk at her. “You’re blushing.” A finger runs down her cheek. She bats it away. 

“We should get going,” he observes, checking his watch. 

That gets her attention. “What?”

His lips twitch as he says, “The MOMA exhibit is tonight, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Well, we should go then.”

Oh, gods above. He’s planning on attending? With her? 

This is a terrible idea. But one look at his devilish smile tells her there’s no changing his mind. So she sighs and says, “We’ll have to get a cab. It’s across the city.”

“I’ll just drive, then,” he says, throwing her completely off guard once again. 

“Wait a second. You have a car?”

He looks amused as he takes her hand and pulls her down the street to where a dark, expensive looking SUV is parked. “I do.”

“Then why do you walk to work?”

Opening the passenger door, he turns to look her in the eyes again. “Well, you know what they say. Best way to start the day...” is a quick lay, she finishes in her mind, cheeks going pink. “-is to see a friend.”

Oh, he’s such an unbearable asshole. 

She ignores the little smile he gives her and climbs in the car, and soon they’re off. For a minute it’s silent, but then she asks quietly, “Why are you coming tonight?”

“I wanted to see you. And I’ve never been to a museum. Figured I’d have the best guide this way.” 

Reasonable enough, she supposes. Even if the way he looked at her earlier told her seeing a museum had nothing to do with art. 

She doesn’t have enough time to contemplate it, though, because he pulls up in front of the MOMA and parks, then they’re heading inside. She’s happy to see there’s quite a few people here, something she knows her sister will appreciate, too. 

Said sister rushes over immediately and smiles. “You made it!”

“Of course I did.” When she eyes the man next to her, she says awkwardly, “Um, Feyre, this is... my neighbor.”

She really has to find out his name. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand. “It looks like a good turnout.”

It was the right thing to say apparently, because Feyre beams. “I know! Hopefully they’ll all sell. There’s a surprise in there for you, Elain.”

Oh, gods. That usually meant something bad. Like being the subject to her sister’s very comprehensive photography exhibit three years ago.

“Anyway, you guys look around and have fun. There’s champagne in the back. Thanks for coming!” 

Elain hugs her sister tightly before she can disappear. “I’m proud of you. This is great.”

Feyre rolls her eyes as she pulls back, but they’re a little misty. “Oh, shut up or you’ll make me cry.”

Then she kisses Elain’s cheek and turns to talk to more people coming in. 

“Champagne?”

Turning to the man next to her, she smiles and nods. That sounds like an excellent idea right about now. He disappears, so she ventures to the first room. 

It’s all landscapes, beautiful paintings of mountains and the night sky and beautiful pictures of nature. She’s standing in front of one, smiling, when he comes back. “That’s your garden, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, staring at the piece in front of her with new eyes. The night they’d first met creeps into her mind, and she sees him in the painting, lounging on that cute little bench, cigarette dangling seductively from his lips. 

“You look sad.” His voice is quiet and soft, and she turns to meet his gaze. 

She has to look away, though, because he’s right. She is sad. 

Thinking about that night makes her think about what could’ve happened. How different this last week could’ve been. 

But she can’t tell him any of that, so she just turns to walk to the next room. The man next to her pauses, and she sees why as soon as her gaze goes to the wall. 

Roses, carnations, lilies. 

Tulips, orchids, peonies. 

All her favorite flowers are on the wall, the paint blending together and creating the most beautiful collage she’s ever seen. They’re all over the wall--there has to be at least fifty paintings in here. 

And in the middle of them all is the front of her shop. 

It’s an almost perfect rendition to the door of The Archeron, with the glass walls and flowers almost bursting out. 

The whole room’s been designed to look like the inside of her shop. 

A tear escapes down her cheek as she looks at the art around her. Gratitude, love, and happiness almost erupt from her, and she notices something. 

The man next to her notices it at the same time. “You feel something.”

“Yeah,” she replies happily. “I do.”

He smiles, and it’s not one of his usual little grins or smirks. It’s a full smile, showcasing all his perfect teeth. “So do I.”

The voice inside her head tells her he isn’t talking about the paintings. 

And for a minute, Elain just stands there, flowers blurring in her peripheral as she stares at him. 

“Please tell me your name,” she whispers. 

He smiles again, taking a step towards her. And it’s just as he’s leaning down that he opens his mouth and-

“Elain!” Feyre bursts into the room with a wide grin. “What do you think?”

She practically jumps a mile in the air, but she recovers quickly and says honestly, “I love it. Thank you so much. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Excuse me,” her neighbor says in a low voice, eyes on something in the distance as he heads to the front of the store. 

Feyre watches him go, and as soon as he’s out of earshot says, “Okay, now that he’s gone, can you tell me what’s going on? Did you and Lucien break up?”

Elain notices her sister doesn’t exactly sound sad at that prospect. “No, why would you think that?”

“Because you came here with him, and he looks like a villanous-”

“Prince Charming? That’s what I said!”

They laugh, but then Feyre smiles knowingly and asks, “You know he’s in love with you, right?”

The words clear a path through her chest, even as the heart inside swells. She suddenly can’t breathe, can’t form a normal thought. That’s... impossible. 

“What? How do you know?”

“Because he just went to buy that painting,” she says softly, motioning to The Archeron’s door. 

She shakes her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Feyre smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yes, he did.”

“Oh, gods,” Elain whispers, pulse starting to race. 

“You like him, too. It’s obvious to anyone who isn’t you.” Feyre flicks her nose playfully. “So stop thinking so hard. Just do what makes you happy.”

They say goodbye, and Elain turns to leave, finding him by the entrance. They walk outside in silence, then ride home in silence. 

Something’s different between them, and it’s created a tangible tension in the air that makes it hard for her to breathe. 

It’s only when they’re in the hallway outside their doors that she quietly asks, “Did you buy that painting?”

His body goes a bit tense, but he looks at her and answers, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you.” His eyes are warm, like chocolate and caramel and smoke. And they’re looking at her like she’s everything to him as he says, “I felt something.”

“Liar,” she accuses, stealing his line.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, so they continue to stare at each other. She knows him so well already, but there’s one thing she’s still dying to figure out.

Just as she’s about to ask, he murmurs, “My name’s Azriel.”

She tells herself it’s the deal, the arrangement. She tells herself it doesn’t matter. She tells herself she’s just paying the price. 

Elain tells herself all sorts of little lies as she steps forward, takes his face in her hands, and presses her lips to his. 

______________________________________________________________

Wrote this in one setting sorry if it’s shit. Part 4

@wineywitch202 @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @poisonous00 @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @afifthofvodka @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #sjm #elain #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight

[girlsinoctober]

past tense, and its clatter [e.p.]

emily prentiss x fem!reader

summary: the death of ian doyle has come with a load of problems but emily’s love for her girlfriend will outweigh all of them.

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, mentions of murder, blood, same-sex relationship, talk of crime

gif belongs to @beth-boland

italics = flashback

There was a story. As it is, was, and ever would be: it did not start at the trial. Emily knew that much.

It did not start when she looked at your hands in that court room and thought ‘dear God, what had those hands done?’, because she was unaware of the repercussions that were bound to ensue.

It started a long time ago, when she was undercover as Ian Doyle’s lover. Before that night your lips first met in her office, when she was just starting to forget what life without the team was like. Before you showed up at her door covered in someone else's blood.

“Miss y/l/n, is it true that you encountered Ian Doyle some time after his abduction of Agent Emily Prentiss?”

You could barely hold yourself up as you sat in a stand adjacent the counsel of federal officers. Your face was drained of color and your body was hunched over as if someone was landing punches onto the delicate skin of your stomach. The toll that had been taken on you was greater than anyone could ever imagine and Emily was the only one that saw the behind-the-scene breakdowns.

You pushed out a bitter chuckle, “I’d hardly call him kidnapping me ‘an encounter’, but yes. It was after we rescued Agent Prentiss, she had just been reintroduced as part of the team.”

"And will you define 'we', please?" He questioned. "The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. Agents Rossi, Morgan, Reid, Jareau, Garcia, Hotchner, and I.”

“Now, would you mind to speak about your first encounter with Mr. Doyle and every encounter thereafter.”

“I only ever met Doyle once.” You corrected.

Your eyes wandered to the jury box where your team was sitting quietly, eventually landing on Emily as your eyes locked on one another. For a moment, weakness glinted in your eyes like a piece of glass at the bottom of the ocean and it took all Emily had to keep herself from reaching out to you.

“Em, you’re still here?” Emily looked up to meet your eyes, even in the darkness of her office the sight of you was enough to lighten her mood. “I thought I was the only one that stayed until the janitors were ready to shut the lights off.” You joked softly as you moved through her office door.

Momentarily, her heart jumped. She had always admired you, the way you carried yourself day in and day out. She thought you were beautiful. But her favorite you was the you she saw after long days. When your face was flushed red and your hair was beginning to spring from its confinement. She thought this raw you was more beautiful than the dolled-up you she watched walk into work every morning.

Emily smiled softly at you, “I know it’s late. I'm just...looking at possible cases for tomorrow.” You moved towards her desk and she took a short breath, making a poor attempt to cover the file in front of her from your view. You shook your head with a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Emily, you don’t have to protect me. I know more than anyone that this world is a fucked up place.”

Emily met your eyes, chewing on the bottom of her lip. “I know." She couldn't help it, ever since the first day she met you it was like she had this deep-rooted need to shield you from all the bad things in the world. That was hard given your profession.

Finally, she stood from her chair and pushed herself away. You watched her walk through the office until you were the only thing between her and her desk. She reached out to push a strand of hair out of your face. "Even if you are an agent, I still wish I could protect you from all the bad in the world. Even if it meant putting myself in danger." It was more of a thought than something she wanted to say out-loud, but it came out nevertheless.

“I couldn’t let that happen...I like you too much for that.” You spoke softly, the ghost of a smile spreading across your lips. Emily attempted to hide the widening of her eyes as she met yours. Your face had not changed which only made it harder for her to differentiate whether that was as admission of a crush or if you were just happy she was your friend.

Still, she took a bold step as she spoke up, “Don’t say that, you’ll tempt me.”

“So the night that Mr. Doyle kidnapped you was the first time you had ever met him? What do you believe his motives were for kidnapping you?”

Your eyes briefly flickered to Emily once again. "Possibly the nature of your relationship to Agent Prentiss...?" The counselman suggested, lifting an eyebrow at you as you met his eyes.

“Don’t say that, you’ll tempt me.” Emily whispered, only to be met with a surprised look on your face. "Tempt you to do what?" you questioned, biting down on your bottom lip. You know that you were testing the limits here.

The both of you paused, neither moving from your places. You became increasingly aware of your position, she had you practically pressed against her desk and looked down on you with a look in her eyes that prompted butterflies at the pit of your stomach. Before you had the time to process what was happening, she lifted you onto her desk by the underneath of your thighs. Your heart was now pounding in your chest, wildly pumping in an attempt to have some form of control over your body.

“Emily,” You whispered, her gaze falling to your lips. She hesitated before pressing her lips to yours. It started off slow, her lips worked against yours in a haze of passion fulfillment; you had both waited a long time for this. When she felt she had introduced her lips to yours well enough, she progressed to sliding her tongue into your mouth. 

The way she praised you with her mouth elicited a whimper from your lips. Eventually she pulled away, looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes. "As much as I'd love to take you right here on this desk, we should probably get out of here." She spoke breathlessly, “But you’re more than welcome to come to my place.”

"Ian Doyle had been trying to get revenge for Agent Prentiss's undercover job since he got out of custody. That was the BAU's conclusion as to why he kidnapped me." You looked forward at the man. 

"Could you tell us what happened the night Ian Doyle died?" That hit you, sparked a pain inside your chest.

"I-uh," you struggled to find the words. "I woke up in one of Doyle's warehouses. He had my hands bound together behind my back and he sat in a chair in front of me."

You wouldn't look at Emily now, she couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or the fact that she sparked so much emotion in you that not looking at her was the only way you could keep yourself from crying. 

"Doyle told me the only way I would make it out alive would be if I gave him Agent Prentiss's address and resigned from the BAU.”

The man nodded his head, then the woman beside him spoke, “And how did you get free?”

You cleared your throat weakly, “It took me a while to iron out a plan. By the time that I had, I was in the car with him and leaving whatever warehouse he had kept me in. He had a knife sitting in his lap, presumably what he was going to kill me with if I did not comply with his orders.”

“At some point he had been distracted by a car nearly hitting us. Immediately, he pressed the knife to my neck, asking if I had known the car. I didn’t. It was just any old jackass on the street. But at the point Doyle was on highs alert.”

“But his focus on the road took some away from me. He was so driven by his rage against Agent Prentiss that he had cut corners just to get to her. The ropes my hands were bound with were beginning to come loose and my hands were sliding free.”

"What happened after that, Agent?" The female officer pushed. "Um...." A tear slid down your face and you made a quick attempt to wipe it away, looking to Emily for comfort. 'You're okay, breathe baby' she mouthed to you, looking at you as if you were made of glass. 

You turned back to the lawyer, “His driving had become erratic, he was nervous that agents were after him. At one point he slammed on the brakes so hard that it threw the knife to the floorboard between the two seats. He wasn’t worried about it because, as far as he knew, my hands were tied behind my back.

“When he wasn’t looking, I picked up the knife and drove it into his stomach." You took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that were continuously pooling in your eyes. 

“Continue agent.”

“When his hands left the wheel, the car immediately barreled into traffic. Upon hitting another car, the air bags deployed. It took several moments before I was stable enough to climb out of the car but when I did, Doyle was already lying in the ground with a gun a few feet out of his grasp.”

"I picked it up with my left hand, pointing it at him while he was on the ground." 

"But you didn't use the gun, did you Agent?" The third counsel member questioned, holding up four pictures for you to see; pictures of Doyle's body with stab sounds all around his abdomen and chest. 

"No," you whispered, "I didn't. I picked up the knife and drove it into his chest. Then I proceeded to pull it out and continued to stab him." The counselman shook his head in disappointment, "And after that?"

"I ran. As fast and as far as I could until I couldn't run anymore."

Emily was practically drowning within her own satin sheets by the time she heard the knocking on her apartment door. She listened further, wondering if she had only imagined it in her half-asleep state.

Then it sounded again, urgent and persistent knocking on the door forced her out of bed. In the midst of tying her robe, she reached for the gun sitting on her nightstand and carefully tended to the door.

She raised the gun in her hands, carefully reaching for the doorknob. When she pulled it open, her gun was at the ready. That was, until her eyes met you.

Blood-soaked clothing clung to your body like a wet blanket. Your eyes were dark, glossed over as if all of your emotions had been ripped from your chest. A gash on your forehead was leaking blood onto your face and neck.

When your eyes lifted to meet hers, a dam broke inside you and tears fell from your eyes. Eventually you were sobbing, reaching out for Emily as she set the gun down and took you into her arms before busing you to the couch.

“Em,” you called out to her desperately, followed by a whimper. Emily pulled your shirt over your head, placing it on the table behind you. Instinctively, she searched your abdomen for cuts or gashes. The only thing she was met with where a collection of bruises scattered across your rib cage.

“Darling,” she mumbled worriedly, meeting your tear-filled eyes once again. She caressed the side of your face, wiping a tear away with her thumb. “Baby. Please tell me what happened.” Your stomach twisted, heart beating out of your chest. Emily had never seen you cry like this and it worried her to no end.

“Em,” you gripped at her robe desperately, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes closed. “I...I killed him Em."

“Members of the BAU. Your fellow agent is being examined as to find out if she is unfit to continue her duties with your team. If deemed unfit she will be relived from her position and restricted from any further position within the FBI.”

The team tensed as JJ stood up, "Counsel. With all due respect; Y/n is, without a doubt, the most capable agent within our team. She's proved time and time again to be a valuable agent both to the BAU and the FBI. She is one of the strongest agents we've ever had. Ian Doyle was an international criminal who evaded police for years and captured two of our own agents. Y/n put an end to all of his crimes and a huge weight off of all of our shoulders."

The counsel retreated to their chambers for discussion. Emily moved quickly to you with the team in tow. “Baby, look at me. It’s okay, everything’s going be okay.” She reached for you, taking your face in her hand. She was shaky against your face but you leaned into her touch nevertheless.

When the doors swung open, the counsel returned to their seats, as did your team.

"Agent y/l/n. Your suspension from this team is officially lifted. Effective immediately, you will resume you duty. Your badge and gun will be returned." The entire team let out a collective breath, finally relaxing in their seats. 

When everything settled down and the team dispersed, you found Emily and yourself lying on the couch. Both of you cradleing the other as if you were going to disappear.

You knew you were where you belonged. With Emily and with your team.

#emily prentiss #agent prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds imagine #jennifer jareau #jemily #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #spencer reid #agent rossi #derek morgan #paget brewster

[bibislut]

Merlot and Meddling

I present to you; a fic born from the inspiration at the bottom of a bottle of wine.

Synopsis: Maybe Pansy could be right for once, maybe this is the closure Draco needs. Or maybe they’ve both just had a little too much to drink. After all, nothing bad ever came from drunk advice, right?

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2494

Find it on Ao3 

-----

Draco took a large swig of his wine, swilling it around his mouth as he thought over Pansy’s idea. The two had already finished their second bottle and were now well into their third. The blond was laying languidly on his best friend's sofa, the raven-haired witch in question haphazardly strewn across the neighbouring armchair.

“Not a chance.” Was he slurring?

“Why the fuck not?” Pansy’s high squeal of disbelief echoed in draco’s ears.

“Because it's a moronic idea.”

“No it's not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It. Is. Not.” Pansy enunciated each word harshly, pushing herself up. Draco flicked his eyes over to her, meeting her determined gaze. “This will be good for you, Draco. And even better for me, when I read it sober tomorrow.” She grinned.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as he resigned himself to the whims of a stubborn, drunk heiress, with a loud groan. “Fine.”

Pansy squealed, a horrific noise that only Draco ever got to hear. Sometimes he wished that being her best friend was a bit quieter. She clapped her hands eagerly. “Wonderful. It’s about time you got some of this mess-” She waved her hands at him, “- out.” 

Draco sat up, enjoying the slight spin of the room as he downed the rest of his glass. “Top me up then, gorgeous. I’ll need my strength.” He drawled.

“In your dreams.” Pansy scoffed, placing her own empty glass on the coffee table. “I’m going to grab some parchment. Top me up too.” 

If Draco was lucky enough, he’d wake up before Pansy tomorrow, and could burn the blasted thing before she could bully him about it.

----

Harry yawned widely, scratching his head as he plonked himself down at the staff table. Neville nudged the pumpkin juice towards him, shooting him a sympathetic look.

“Remind me why I took this job again, Neville?”

“Because you’re good at teaching people and making them believe in themselves?” The herbology teacher took a bite of his jam-laden toast.

Harry huffed. “Well it certainly wasn’t to stay up all night grading mock exams.” He pulled a plate of pancakes towards him. “I had more than enough of my own bloody OWLs and NEWTs.” He grumbled. “Should’ve thought this through more.”

Neville hummed. “Do you want me to pour some cold water on you?”

“Don’t even try it.” Harry smirked. “You can’t just throw water on The Saviour of The Wizarding World.”

“Did you forget I’m the one who stood up to Voldemort?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

“What has happened to you?” Harry shook his head jokingly. “Where’s the shy boy I grew up with?”

“Still bloody here.” Neville chuckled. “Just a bit more comfortable now.”

“Teaching suits you.”

“It suits you too, most days.”

Both young men turned back to their food, Harry reaching for the pot of coffee he’d asked for. The noise in the hall rose, and he looked up just in time to catch the post before it hit his plate. Being a Hogwarts alumni and a seeker definitely helped during breakfast.

It was just the usual, a copy of the day’s Daily Prophet, a copy of The Quibbler, a letter addressed in Hermione’s writing, no doubt reminding him of the Weasley spring get-together, and...another letter. He didn’t recognise the handwriting. He pried open the seal curiously, unfolding the letter inside:

-Dear Mr Potter,

The most famous, most brilliant, most bravest man to ever exist. Who’s arse we must all kiss, and lick, and fondle, though that may be just me. It really is a nice arse you know. Have you ever looked in the mirror? A truly fine specimen. You wouldn’t think it spent so much time on a broomstick being a bloody show off, but here we are, you with a nice arse and me with a picture of it in my head. How delightful.

I have been told to write this letter to get my feelings out. And though I would usually deny these feelings, everything must end - including these ridiculous thoughts. “What thoughts?” You may ask. Well, let me tell you.

 I hold a rather large grudge, fuelled almost completely by my own damaged pride. Pride bruised by a lack of you in my life, and pride bruised whenever you are in my life. It is quite the conundrum, I tell you.

A lot of my feelings are unnecessary, some unscrupulous, some unwanted, unfounded, but most of them unreturned. For when have you ever looked into my eyes the way I do yours? When have you lain in the dark, retracing our encounters? Or remembering the colour of your eyes, or the pattern of your freckles, or the way you thin your lips in rage, or lick them with anxiety or when, perhaps, have you thought of me at all? Outside of your obligation to that is? Your obligation to hate me, despise me, distrust me. Please tell me that’s what it is; an obligation. Or at least tell me that you don’t anymore, don’t resent me, loathe me. That’s what I need to believe.

I certainly did you. I hated you, it's true. For many reasons. For stealing the limelight, for bettering me, for dismissing me. But I also admired you, envied you. Resented you, and myself, for my cowardice, for my choices, for having the family that I did, that I do. 

I could go on and on, but the point is this- you still plague my thoughts. You still fill my head. You’re in my dreams, my nightmares, my desires… 

And this is not healthy, it can’t be. Progress is healthy, moving on is healthy. And perhaps just imagining you reading this will contribute towards that.

So let me leave you with this, Potter: I feel so many things for you, and none of them can be resolved, or come to fruition. This is my attempt at goodbye. This is my attempt at starting anew. -

The writing is messy, the ink smeared in places, a stain of some kind in the bottom right corner. But Harry knows this handwriting, spent his teenage years seeing this writing, obsessing over it some nights. And he knows the writing on the front of the letter doesn’t match. 

Which means Draco Malfoy did not intend for Harry to see this.

---

“Fuckkk…” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

Draco’s eyes shot open, focusing on Pansy as she sat on the armchair, hair brushed, face washed, sitting in a fresh set of pyjamas. “Why the fuck are you okay?” He groaned, rubbing his face. 

Pansy shrugged. “I had a pint of water and a sandwich after you passed out. Woke up feeling perfectly fine.”

“You bitch. Why didn’t you make me one?”

“And wake the beast? No, thank you.” She motioned towards where a mug of steaming tea sat under a stasis charm. “Cuppa?”

Draco hummed thankfully, sitting up carefully so as not to anger his throbbing head further. “Less of a bitch.” He murmured. He sipped at it, the warmth of it easing a bit of the tension in his body. “What time is it?”

“Just past eight.”

“So, really-fucking-early.” 

“Yeah.” Pansy picked up her own mug. “I’m glad you’re awake though.” 

“And why is that?” Draco sat back against the cushions, easing his shoulders as he took another sip.

“What do you remember of last night, love?”

Draco offered an exhausted chuckle. “Some of it.” He tried to think back. “We finished the third bottle of merlot, right? Or was it the fourth? And your dancing, that was great.” He snorted. “Merlin. You do squeal when you’re drunk Pans, I thought my eardrums- OH FUCK!”

“And there it is.” Pansy smiled at him. 

“Oh Merlin, Pansy. Please tell me you burnt it. Please, Please.”

“I’d love to, Draco, I really would. It’s just…” She paused, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I mean, I was drunk too.”

“Oh no, please tell me you didn’t send it to Blaise!”

“Okay, I didn’t send it to Blaise.”

“Pansy Bernadine Parkinson. What. Did. You. Do?!” 

“Don’t use my full name!” She whined. “You know how much I hate-” 

“Pansy!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It might go well, you never know. I do sometimes have good ideas, and honesty is always the best pol-”

“PANSY!” Draco lurched forwards, his stomach doing the same. Merlin, anxiety and alcohol did not mix well.

“I sent it to Potter.” She whispered, eyes wide.

“WHAT!” Draco stood up so quickly he spilt his tea.

“You never know-”

“At Hogwarts?!” The blond slammed his cup down on the coffee table, standing over his friend.

“Yes?”

“Merlin’s tits!” Draco’s hand flew to his hair, running them through nervously as he began pacing. “Merlin’s fucking tits!” 

“I mean, it's not so bad, right? You could still make it.”

“Make it?” Draco spun around to face her, his mind racing. What had he said? He didn’t even remember half of it. He was pretty sure he mentioned Potter’s arse, and maybe his father? The memories were returning slower than he’d like. Had he signed it?! “What time is it?”

Pansy cast a quick tempus. 8:11. 

“Maybe I can get there before the post does?”

“Not looking like that, you can’t.”

Draco dashed over to the mirror, taking himself in. His hair was knotted and sticking on end, his trousers wrinkled, his shirt untucked and half buttoned, and he probably smelled as bad as he felt. “Shit, right, okay." He bit at his lips nervously, his head racing. “I’m going to go back to mine and shower and change.” He turned to face her. “Can you send a message through firecall asking McGonagall if I can meet her at the end of breakfast? Say something about a tour of the new quidditch pitch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Wish me luck, Pans, or it’s gonna be you who’s in the shit.”

“Yeah, I get it, I’m dead to you.” Pansy waved her hand nonchalantly, as if she was already over the mess she'd created. “Just go and sort yourself out.”

-----

Harry read, and re-read the letter at least five times, barely even tasting his coffee. Was it true? Did Malfoy really care for him? He couldn’t deny that the slytherin had been his thoughts since the end of their eighth year, but to think he had been in his? That was insane, unbelievable. And yet, here he sat, holding the letter. 

Maybe he was wrong, maybe it wasn’t Malfoy. Sixth year had certainly proven that he wasn’t the best at handwriting. But it added up, the ‘limelight’ , the ‘cowardice’, the ‘family’. And who else had been close enough to him to comment on his freckles, or lips, or eyes, and still matched the things that had been said like Malfoy did?

Fuck, what was he going to do? 

“Come on Harry, you don’t want to be late.” He looked up at Neville. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just some unexpected news.”

“You sure? You look a bit frazzled.” Neville’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

Harry pulled on a smile. “All good. You alright?”

“I’m good. Got a whole day of first years today, you’d think they’d be better behaved this far into the year, but they can still be a bit tricky.”

“You’ll do well with them, you always do.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Harry.”

The two men headed out of the Great Hall together. Harry was so distracted he almost didn’t recognise the head of white blond hair standing just outside the doors.

“Malfoy?” 

Draco Malfoy spun around, meeting Harry’s gaze with a look he couldn’t decipher. 

“Potter.” He nodded.

“What are you doing here?” Why was his heart beating so fast?

“I’m meeting Mcgonagall for a tour.” Malfoy wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. He looked good, his hair falling softly over his forehead, no longer slicked back. He was dressed in an all black suit, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. He looked handsome and confident… except for his other hand, which was tensing and untensing over and over again.

“I’ll catch you later, Harry. Malfoy.” Neville waved goodbye, nodding at the Slytherin. 

“Why are you really here?” Harry asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. 

“Well,” Malfoy’s voice caught and he cleared his throat. “I suppose I wanted to apologise, for the, um, letter.” He looked down, finally conceding his nervousness.

Harry nodded towards the doors. “The kids will be out soon, follow me.”

“Look, Potter. We don’t have to make this bigger than it needs to be. Let’s just agree to forget about it.”

Harry stopped, turning back to face him. “Why would I do that?” Malfoy finally looked at him. Harry lowered his voice, taking a step closer. “I don’t hate you, Draco.” He licked his lips, terrified of what he was about to say. “It was nice to know you’ve been thinking about me, too.”

Draco’s eyes lit up, before drawing together again. “I’m not in the mood for jokes, Potter.”

“I’m not joking.” Harry took another step forward, until they were only a few feet away from each other. He summoned his Gryffindor courage. “I’ve been thinking about your arse too.” 

Malfoy’s jaw dropped, and he shoved Harry in the chest. “That’s not funny.”

Harry laughed, catching his hands. “It kind of is.”

“Oh shove off, you great big git.” Draco gave a small smile, trying to pull his hands away.

“Make me.” Harry whispered, holding on tighter. If you had told him two hours ago that he would be flirting with Malfoy outside the Great Hall, he would have told you to go and get your head checked for wrackspurts. He felt almost giddy with excitement and disbelief, and most of all, anxiety. He was just riding on the wave of adrenaline at this point. 

Draco snorted. “Good idea, Potter. The hallway is about to flood with students.” The Slytherin didn’t look away though, his silver eyes holding Harry's with a hopeful look.

Harry finally let go of his hands, but neither man stepped away. “Take me to dinner then.”

“You’re asking me to ask you to dinner?” Draco shook his head in disbelief

“Yeah, why not?”

“Very romantic.” He drawled.

“Hey! I’m the one who had to decipher your horrific handwriting.” And read your half-lusty, half-sad ramblings on four hours sleep, he thought.

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco winced. “Fine. Do you want to come to dinner with me?”

“You could be a bit more enthusiastic.” Harry mock-pouted.

“I’ll bloody take the offer back if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, okay.” Harry looked over Draco’s shoulder to see students starting to pour out of the Great Hall. He grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Owl me the details.” 

And with that, Potter dashed off down the hallway, leaving Draco’s fingers tingling and his stomach fluttering with butterflies. They were both doomed, surely, so why were they both so excited about it?

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #pansy parkinson #neville longbottom #fic #fanfic #drarry fic #drarry fanfic

[k1nky-fool]

In Loving Memory

Part 1/?

Shouta Aizawa x OC

Rating: Teen (this is subject to change chapter to chapter)

Warnings: not beta read, bad spur of the moment choices, one character's existential crisis seen from an outsider's point of view, and purposely bad fashion sense.

Taglist: I'm dropping this in a discord channel too, so hi my dudes! And if you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to send in an ask, or PM me!

Author's Note: I really just want to make sure I get this chapter out. Because I want to have a small platonic one-shot with my OC Shizune Kiokuro and Mirio Togata for his birthday tomorrow that's set after the Overhaul arc. For angsty bitter sweet reasons. I should have that out tomorrow.

He felt a little bad for it. To be fair she had walked in wearing something that just threw him into a fight or flight response. She looked absolutely unhinged and deranged. Shouta could relate, but it made him activate his quirk immediately. He thought he had better control than this, and he managed to catch himself before anything major happened and before anyone could notice. But the woman had frozen in place and looked around like she was trying to find the source of whatever had caused the strange feeling.

Her eyes caught Shouta's and she looked him up and down with tired eyes. She shrugged him off and sat down in a seat at the table. He figured she was the new hero course third year hire after the last Investigations teacher retired.

This new year would be quite a lot. Several new teachers were joining the UA staff this year, including but not limited to All Might, and whoever this jarring woman was. It was enough to have Hizashi here to fill the role of obnoxious staff, but now there would be All Might?

Then there was this woman with a neon green mohawk and she's wearing an orange, green, and purple bowling shirt tied into a crop top, hot pink jean shorts and… are those fucking Crocs? Shouta himself couldn't be bothered to care anymore, but it was unusual that he was the only one seeming to notice something this bizarre.

"As many of you have heard, we are welcoming Toshinori Yagi to our staff this year, but All Might is not our only new addition. We also have Kiokuro Shizune joining the third year staff." Nezu happily introduced.

Everyone turned to see Shizune and she smiled brightly. Now it finally seemed that everyone was noticing her. A few teachers looked at her with disgust. Some were staring in surprise. Others just weirded out. Shizune, for her part, just chuckled at the wide array of reactions until everyone had gotten their eyeful and looked away.

None of the previous reactions stayed on their faces. And nobody bothered to look back at her. That much was odd. At least Nemuri would look back a few times and whisper about it to whoever was sitting next to her.

For the rest of the meeting, nobody looked back at her, as though she had completely faded into the background of an arcade floor someone had vomited every slushie imaginable onto. There wasn't much meeting to focus on beyond the full class files that every teacher was given at the beginning of the year. Shouta wouldn't be bothered to read it. He didn't want to have any preconceived notions about any of his students before he met them. They would have to make their first impressions count.

Shouta kept finding his gaze back at Shizune. She just sat there like a clown, tilting her chair back with a bored expression on her face. She didn't seem to think anyone was paying her any attention.

The exact second Nezu dismissed the meeting, she was gone. He wasn't going to bother talking to her, but the speed in which she was already out the door was almost impressive. But the less time he had to spend getting to know her the better.

He had a lot of work to do before his students showed up in class next week. He got back to his computer and started up. He hated the paperwork, but he had known what he was in for when he started.

"Say, Aizawa." Fucking Nemuri. "How do you think All Might's gonna fit in here?"

"He can worry about that himself."

"Oh come on, you don't even wanna know why he's suddenly decided to teach classes?" She asked. "I mean, the number one hero suddenly settling down to teach some brats? Gotta be the most bizarre thing we've seen."

"He wasn't the most bizarre thing about that meeting." He sighed. "Go home, Kayama."

"Oh? What was the most bizarre thing about that meeting?" She asked.

"Either you're blind or just stupid. Go home." He said again.

Suddenly Nemuri was all the more confused. "What did I miss?"

"The clown in the corner." Shouta deadpanned. "You'll get along well."

"The hell are you talking about? Are you ok?" Nemuri reached for his forehead, but he leaned out of the way.

"I'm fine. You can leave."

"Alright, fine." She shrugged off. "I'm going."

Finally, quiet. He liked being the only one in the office no matter how late it was. Being the last one here was worth it.

At least he wished he was the last one here. Meandering steps that thudded ever so softly on the floor. He didn't even bother to look up, knowing the colors on their shirt would give him a headache.

"Evening, Kiokuro." He acknowledged. It would be worse if she didn't know he was here.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Not saying a word. A beat of silence went by before she said anything. "How the fuck did you do that?" Her voice quivered.

"Do what?" He still didn't bother to look up at her.

"How did you know it was me? You're not looking at me." She asked.

"Your crocs make a dumb swishing sound on the floor. Your steps are quick and soft because you don't weigh a whole lot. And you walk around like you're not heading anywhere in particular, so you make strange noises, but over a large surface area. Not in a straight line." He explained like she should already know this. "I remember how you walked into the meeting."

Shizune stomped over to the side of his desk and forced his chair toward her. Fine. Guess he's not getting any work done. He finally conceded to looking up at her.

She still wore the outrageous outfit from earlier. However, her expression was one of complete fear as her eyes frantically searched his face. "Are you fucking with me?"

"What?"

"People don't remember me, Aizawa." She said, "How the fuck did you know it was me without looking up and keeping me in your line of sight?"

"What are you talking about?"

She took a step back, seeming to think something over. "My quirk." She began. "When I'm in your line of sight, you know me, you see me. But the second I'm not in your line of sight, you forget me. It is impossible for people to remember me without looking at me. If I'm not being looked at, I don't exist to anyone but myself."

"You're a stealth hero." He noted.

"Yeah. I'm the perfect stealth hero." She snapped. "So how the hell do you remember me?"

Shouta stood up, glaring down at her. "My quirk is to erase quirks."

"Oh.. you're Eraserhead." She noted. "That must have been what I felt in the meeting room. Why did you feel the need to erase my quirk the second you saw me?"

"Your shirt gave me a headache. My first thought was that it was a threat." He deadpanned.

"Oh… well that's kind of the point… but that means that it never got the chance to lock onto you. Which means the next time you looked at me, there was nothing to remember, because you hadn't forgotten. Wait then that means…" Shizune paused.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Shouta shrugged off, leaving her staring off into space. "Go home, Kiokuro." He called back as he closed the door behind him.

-X-

It was another week and a half before he had seen her again. Only two days after classes had started. He didn't want to be here, especially not while there were still students in the classroom.

Shouta had come to collect the uniform reports that All Might had left behind. All he had to do was take them down to the support department, then he could go home. But Iida, Midoriya, and Ururaka were staying late on a Friday afternoon, cleaning the classroom. They were almost done by the looks of it.

"Hi, Mr. Aizawa!" Ururaka greeted. He gave her a wave, going straight to the podium where All Might said he left the reports.

His stomach jumped when a knife flew past his face. His scarf was activated immediately, and wrapped around the assailant's wrist. But it was in vain. They had taken his scarf in their grip and jumped into the air, spinning and pulling him toward them. In one move, they kicked him back into the wall.

He grunted in pain, but his eye caught the obnoxious colors of his attacker.

"Mr. Aizawa!" Midoriya was up and ready to fight, but Shouta held up a hand to stop any of the students from attacking her.

They all waited for him to do something, so he just stood against the wall as she held a knife to his neck, staring her in the eyes. "You kids can head out. Ms. Kiokuro and I have something to discuss."

"But Mr. Aizawa, sir…" Iida began to protest, but must have come to a different conclusion. "Of course. Let's go." The other two followed him out of the classroom. They wouldn't remember this, and Shizune would be safe.

"Alright… you got me alone, now what do you want, Kiokuro?" He grumbled.

She bit out a laugh. "Now, you see- hmm honestly I-" it took her a brief moment to gather herself, and he probably would be more comfortable without the knife at his neck. He lifted his hand to move it away, but she kept it in place. "Ah, yes." She nodded. "You are driving me insane."

"That's unfortunate. Can you get the knife out of my face?" He asked.

"No." She pushed him again back into the wall. "Listen here, fucker-"

"My name is Shouta."

"You are officially 'fucker' until we figure this out." She commanded.

"Great. I could think a lot better if you took the knife out of my face."

"Shut up." She ordered, but let out a breath in annoyance. Shizune resigned to putting the knife back on her belt. "Alright, look… I really want nothing more than to go on about my life and forget you exist, just like everyone does for me."

"Then do it."

"Now, that's the problem! I feel safe knowing that there is nobody that has any memory of me. But you-! You." She laughed, pulling the knife out of the wall and holding it back at his neck. "Every time I think I'm safe, I'm reminded that you remember me."

"Why the fuck-"

"I don't trust you, Shouta." She hissed. "I don't trust you with the memory of me."

"Why don't you?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because I don't know you? Or because there's no reason I should trust you?" Shizune argued. "Really it's because you're not special."

"Well clearly I am." He said. "Because whether you like it or not, I do remember you. And there's no way to fix that."

"Now, Shouta, that's the wrong answer. Because I can fix it by beating it out of your head, and I can then rest easy knowing that there's nobody in the world that will ever find out." She said.

"But you're not going to do that." He figured. "You could have killed me when you first attacked me. Even in front of the students, it wouldn't have mattered. But you're a pro-hero."

Shizune let out a sigh and took the second knife away from his face. "So what can I even do about you, Shouta?" She began pacing the floor, rubbing the buzzed sides of her head. "I can't just leave you with my memory because I tried that for a week and it's driven me insane. I can't sleep knowing someone could be thinking about me, even if you physically couldn't care less if you tried. It's not a matter of if you are or aren't, it's a problem that you can at all."

"Alright, calm down, Shizune." He noted that in this little squabble they had somehow come to a first name basis and that novelty wasn't wasted on him. Very few people got this far, let alone in such a short amount of time.

"It's not easy to calm down about this. It's been almost fifteen years since I've had to trust someone with the memory of me." She was going to start rambling if he let her keep going.

"It's ok. Don't worry about that yet. Now, tell me why again you don't trust me." He said.

"Because I never trust anyone. You're not different, you're not special. But as of a week ago, you are the only person on the planet that knows who I am." She explained.

"Alright, so we've established that you don't trust me any more than everyone else. Which is understandable. I met you a week ago." He followed along. "But since I do remember you, and we don't have a way to fix that beyond extreme violence, we need to figure something else out. You said there was no reason you should trust me. In the event of someone having memory of you, what would make you trust them with that information?'

Shizune thought for a second. "I need to know that person won't tell others about me. I need to be a complete secret."

"That's great, because I don't want to talk to anyone about you." He deadpanned.

"But how can I be sure that you won't be convinced by one of your friends to talk about me? How do I know that Yamada or Kayama can't ask the right question to get you to talk about me?"

"First, I'm an underground hero, just like you. If you don't want anyone to know about you, then nobody will know about you." He promised. "And second, I don't even want to tell them about myself, let alone make an effort to tell them about you."

"Fair enough…" She shrugged. "But I still don't know you. For all I know you could be lying about this."

"And for that, we'll have to trust each other." Shouta figured. "How about I give you a piece of information about me that I don't want people knowing?"

"You would do that?"

"I don't want to, but it's fair. I'd be essentially letting you hold me hostage." He explained. "If someone ends up knowing about you in any way that you haven't given them, then you have this information to do what you want with."

Shizune looked him up and down. "What makes you think I need something true to do that?"

"You don't, but this is supposed to be a gesture of trust."

"Oh yeah…." She remembered. "You do realize it'll have to be something genuinely secret. Something you would literally rather die than have other people know about."

"Which is the issue. I don't think there's anything I would have a problem with other people knowing."

Immediately Shizune lit up with a wicked smile across her face. His students should be glad he doesn't smile like that. "I bet I can find something."

"I will bet you can't." He deadpanned. "Not that I think your investigation skills are lacking, there's just nothing for you to find."

"More mysterious men than you have said that to me and been so. very. wrong." She chuckled, taking a step closer to him. He didn't like the sound of that, but if it meant she could find something that would make her less of a lunatic, then he would let her investigate.

"If you're that confident in yourself, then you have my permission to poke around in my life until you find something." Shouta allowed. "But I don't think you needed my permission in the first place."

"Eh, I don't stalk people unless I need to for work." She shrugged. "I'll see you around."

Shizune was gone, but once again, there was no change in Shouta's memory of her. If she could find something that he cared so heavily about, he wondered what it would be. What would an outside investigator determine to be the most important part of his life?

#aizawa x oc #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta x oc #shouta x reader #mha oc

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Flashback: Mikasa, age 21 Current time: Wednesday January 20th

chapter twenty-three: the story of us

One year ago, Mikasa did not handle her upcoming father’s birthday very well.

She had gotten drunk.

More drunk than she had ever been.

The room was spinning, couldn’t feel anything sort of drunk.

If it worked for Eren, it could work for her.

She didn’t want to feel.

She didn’t want to think.

Every change of the minute brought her father’s birthday closer.

She had tried to call Eren but Ymir had snatched her phone away.

So Mikasa didn’t call Eren.

Instead, she wandered off into the backyard where Levi found her.

She sat down in the snow, not really feeling the cold.

“I know. You’re hurting. You have been, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re having issues because you’re not allowing the pain you feel to be felt. You’ve been through a lot, Mikasa. Give yourself a break,” Levi said as he offered his hand out to Mikasa.

After a moment, Mikasa took Levi’s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Ymir came out of the house moments later and helped lead Mikasa back into the house.

“She okay?” Ymir asked.

“No, but she will be,” Levi replied.

---------------

Eren woke up with his limbs tangled with Mikasa’s. He was unsure how he was going back to not sleeping with her every night. He loved waking up to her in the morning. She was sound asleep as he had woken up before his alarm had gone off. He watched her peacefully sleeping in his arms. He was still so in love with her.

His alarm went off. He swiped it away.

Mikasa mumbled something under his breath that he couldn’t make out before she was nuzzling into his chest, trying to go back to sleep.

“I’m going to shower,” he told her as he began to move.

There was some sort of noise of protest as she held onto him.

“Unless you want to join me,” he whispered into her ear.

She gave him a gentle shove.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughed as he stood up.

It was a strange little morning routine that they had already fallen into. He took his pills and then made his way towards the bathroom.

Eren noticed after he had returned to the bedroom after his shower that something was off about Mikasa. He remembered the whole reason he was here was because of her dad’s birthday looming ever so close.

She was always off on that day.

On her mom’s birthday, it was even worse.

No matter how happy of a day they all tried to make it, Mikasa still had the same feelings.

Eren didn’t blame her, couldn’t blame her. He knew how his mom’s death had affected him. He knew her birthday was also looming closer every day. With the towel still wrapped around his waist, he sat down on her bed.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked as he reached out and touched her face.

Mikasa nodded.

“You’re still a shitty liar,” he told her.

“I know,” she muttered as she looked down.

His thumb caressed her cheek. “We’ll make it through today and tomorrow...then we’ll go from there. One day at time, right?”

Mikasa nodded again, still not looking up at him.

Eren leaned in and briefly pressed his lips to hers. A gesture that he was still there, he still loved her, and that he wanted her.

If Eren was being completely honest, he had never wanted anyone else and he wouldn’t ever want anyone else. He had resigned himself to a life free of any romance after he had left her.

She kissed him back right before he pulled away.

He had left her.

She had gone through this without him last year.

And he had known it would be bad.

It was bad every year.

What kind of fucked up person would do that?

Eren wasn’t fully aware of the fact that he had grabbed Mikasa and pulled her into a hug until she was squeezing him back.

So he just held her.

After a moment, Mikasa finally spoke.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Always here for you,” he muttered as he rested his head on top of hers.

“Did you use my shampoo?” she asked.

“Yeah…..”

“You smell good though. It’s fine. Your hair is so much longer now.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, I like it. Is this scar new?” she asked as she traced a mark on his chest.

Eren nodded.

“Car accident?” she asked.

“Probably. There’s a small one on my neck too,” he said before he took her hand, he used her hand to trace the small scar on his neck. “That was from glass. I was unconscious when they took it out.”

“Luck you. I got to feel your dad pull the glass out of my face,” she muttered as she traced the scar on his neck.

“I’m sure he was at least trying to be gentle. The doctors were pretty mad at me for drinking and driving.”

“Good,” Mikasa said before she pulled out of his embrace.

“Hey! Well, you’re right. I kind of deserved it back then.”

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she said as she stood up.

“I mean you could have joined me…”

Mikasa tackled him, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed. He tried to wrestle out of her grip but even with him working out, she was still stronger. He also became very aware of the fact that he was still just wearing a towel. Mikasa quickly pinned both of Eren’s hands above his head.

Eren’s eyes met hers again.

“I’m going to take a page out of Niccolo’s book and say this is pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her.

“Thought you were stronger now,” she replied simply. No blush flooded her cheeks like Eren had hoped for.

“I just let you win.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she released his wrists.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

Eren’s only answer was to grab her and flip them so he was hovering over her. He could feel his towel slipping but it did stay in place. He knew another move like that and it would fall.

Mikasa biting her lip and refusing to look him in his eyes did not escape his notice. He stood up as he held onto his towel. He secured it as Mikasa got off of her bed.

“Told you I’ve gotten stronger,” he teased her.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said. I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it.”

Mikasa didn’t even bother to respond to him.

Eren waited until he heard Mikasa’s footsteps disappear before he sighed.

-----------------

Jean had no idea what to expect from Pieck. The woman was a constant surprise when it came to what she did.

So when she had shown up with takeout and wine, he had been surprised.

“Figured Connie would probably still be here so I decided to keep it PG tonight,” Pieck said as came into the apartment. “And I brought a bottle of whiskey for him.”

“Did I hear whiskey?” Connie asked as he came out of his room.

“You did. New brand. Thought the bottle was cool,” Pieck shrugged.

“Pieck, this is why you’re the coolest girl he’s ever brought home,” Connie said as he took the bottle from her.

“Does he bring many girls home?” Pieck smirked.

“Yes,” Jean said.

“No,” Connie replied at the same time.

Jean glared at Connie which just caused Pieck to laugh.

“He always seemed to get shot down at galas. So I think I’m going to believe Connie,” Pieck smirked.

“See? Coolest girl. Alright, I’m going to get hammered and then write this essay,” Connie said before moving the bottle in a small toast before going back to his room.

“Let me guess, you thought it would be something much more sexy that I was going to bring you for stress relief,” Pieck said before she sat the bag of food down on the table.

“Very domestic of you,” Jean smirked as he sat down at the tiny kitchen table.

“Shut up, don’t get used to it. I had a good shoot today so here I am. Plus this place has the best tacos around and it happens to be two blocks away from here.”

“Best tacos, huh? Just look like normal tacos to me."

Pieck rolled her eyes before she sat across from him. "You're the man who thought a twenty dollar wine was expensive. So maybe I don't trust your judgement when it comes to food."

"Well excuse me. I didn't have my mom take me to a winery."

"Maybe she should have."

Jean rolled his eyes before taking a bite of his taco. His eyes lit up.

"Told you. World's best tacos."

"Alright, fine. You win this one."

"I told you."

"...you got any more tacos?" Connie's voice called from down the hall.

"Yes, come get some," Pieck replied.

Their conversation slowed as they continued their meal. Pieck found herself liking being here in Jean and Connie's company. Besides the talk of exams and essays, Pieck would sometimes forget they weren't in the same age group as her.

And despite how much she tried to avoid it, Pieck really did like Jean. Once she got through that cocky, asshole persona he used, she found herself really enjoying her company.

But she wouldn't tell him or anybody else for that matter that.

They would all tease her about it.

This all should have been a red flag for her.

Evidence that she was getting in far too deep with Jean. Here she was bringing him food and alcohol because he had had an exam.

After dinner, Pieck found herself sitting on the couch with Jean watching some cheesy sci-fi movie he had found.

"Saturday there's this frat party Marco and I are going to. I'm not staying long," he said casually.

"Okay?" She asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Why would she care?

"So uh..if you wanted to like…"

"Spit out, Jean."

"I mean this is kind of becoming a routine thing and if you know you were expecting for us to…"

She reached up and grabbed his face. "You're cute when you're embarrassed," she teased him before she let go. "Go get drunk. Party. Whatever. I'm keeping my weekly date with Porco and Marcel anyway. But if it isn't past your bedtime, maybe I'll swing by."

"I won't be asleep," Jean said as he leaned back against the couch.

"Hmmm...will Connie be here?"

"Shouldn't be. He's got a thing with Ruth. He spent an hour on the phone with Sasha trying to pick out the perfect gift."

"What for?"

"I don't know. He likes to spoil his girlfriend and get them gifts for no reason. He's always been like that."

"Huh."

The talk of a relationship was making Pieck uncomfortable. Did Jean want that from her? She couldn't give that to him. It just wasn't something she was capable of. Maybe she should break this whole thing off.

"He's right though," Jean said after a moment.

"About what?" She was clearly confused.

"You are the coolest girl I've brought home."

Pieck held back a laugh, "I've never been cool in my life."

"But you are. I mean you have a studio, you're a working artist. You can play multiple instruments. There's no way you're not cool."

"I'm also unbelievably boring."

"I doubt that."

"I am. I go home, I have a glass of wine, I watch TV, and I go to bed."

"Better than what I do. Just study all the time."

"Oh please. Aren't you going to save the world or something?"

"Just because I'm a political science major doesn't mean I'm going to save the world."

"Hmmm...somehow I doubt that. You seem like the type."

"What type?"

"The type to do something stupid. I should go. It's getting late," she said as she stood up.

"Or you could always stay," Jean muttered.

She stopped and looked back at him. "Why do you want me to stay? You feeling alright?"

"Just a stressful day. That's all," he shrugged.

"Okay, well, I've got a shoot in the morning."

"Right. Yeah, I'll see you later."

Pieck nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Jean groaned once she was gone.

"Dude, you're so screwed," Connie said from the other room.

"Tell me something I don't know," Jean muttered as he sat down on the couch.

"So Sasha and Niccolo aren't talking."

"Why's that?"

"Guess he flipped because we're still friends and exes. It's not like I didn't grow up next door to her."

"Weird. So is he out of the group?"

"Not yet. Ymir is waiting for the word to take him out though."

"I'll help her hide the body."

"Are you going to talk to Pieck about everything?"

"You know she's the first girl since Mikasa that I actually like to be around? I mean the other girls I've been with have been good for a fling but Pieck is…"

"Someone you want to wife up?"

"Yes! I mean no. I don't know. She's just different."

"Then you should tell her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same."

"I hope so."

--------------

Her friends were very good at getting Mikasa to not think about the fact that her dad’s birthday was the next day.

At least until it was time to sleep.

She tossed and turned. Eren held onto her, never complaining.

Eren pulled her close to him. She turned over so she was facing him.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, wrapping his other arm around her.

She didn’t feel okay. She felt like she was breaking all over again.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Eren said.

The door opened, Annie stepped in first. She was wrapped in her comforter.

“Scoot over,” the blonde said. Eren pulled himself and Mikasa over to the other side of the bed. Annie plopped down on the open space just as Armin was coming in with his own blanket. He climbed into the bed and sat down next to Eren.

“Armin?” Mikasa questioned. “When did you get here?”

“About twenty minutes ago. My classes are canceled tomorrow,” he explained.

“So we’re having a sleepover in your room tonight because fuck being alone. None of that shit here,” Ymir added as she came into the room with her own blanket. She turned Mikasa’s tv on with the remote. “No one kick me,” she warned as she lay horizontally across the end foot of the bed.

Historia came into the room next, dragging a blanket with her.

“Annie, let me use you as a pillow,” Historia remarked as she climbed into bed. She rested her head on Annie’s shoulder.

“Ymir, can I use you as a pillow?” Sasha asked as she climbed over Ymir so she was the opposite way with her feet towards Mikasa’s pillows.

“I don’t care. Just don’t poke me with your boney elbow,” Ymir said.

“Anyone squished?” Eren asked after a moment.

“I’m good. Toss me a pillow,” Ymir said as she held her hand out.

Eren reached back and grabbed a pillow. He tossed it to her and Ymir caught it.

“You know it’s a good thing you have a giant bed,” Ymir laughed as she put her head down on the pillow.

“Probably a good thing we don’t have more friends too,” Annie added as she rested her head on top of Mikasa’s.

Mikasa twisted so she could see the tv.

“Alright, so we will find the worst thing possible on tv,” Ymir informed them before turning up the volume.

“Give me that or we’re going to end up watching Hallmark movies forever!” Historia proclaimed.

“They’re horrible!”

“That’s the point but they are a form of torture I will not endure. Sasha, snatch the remote away.”

“Uh, no. Ymir is my pillow.”

Mikasa laughed a bit as her friends argued.

This was an improvement from last year.

#mmtylif #my writing

[katzirra]

Finding myself still upset a week later. Tired with the idea that no matter if I'm in the wrong or not, I'm usually expected to either reach out and apologize first because I'm sad at the distance, or just act like nothing happened.

And it's not just this time. Which is the bigger issue. It's this reoccurring thing in my life, which has, in the long term, fucked up my perception of my own allowed emotions. With BPD I'm already invalidating myself, constantly thinking I'm over reacting. The issue has become that I'm rarely if ever over reacting now, because I'm too scared to even open up or feel around people at ALL now. Which I also get told is a problem, how I don't share and open up more - like I use to. It's a fucking loop.

I have people mad every few years that I can't be the friend they want me to be. And when I am transparent about my capabilities and my personal needs, I'm told I basically have to remind them about it when they get upset. It's not my job to keep apologizing... It's like, I'm sorry I am how I am. I also don't want to be like this, but it's how I am these days. I also think it sucks.

But I can't keep apologizing and hating myself for someone's expectations of me that I've been clear about what I can handle... And there's this weird reflection of that in that I'm told I don't owe anything to anyone or whatever, but it feels backhanded and passive in a way that never lays well with me when people say it? Like sometimes it feels like people put words in my mouth? If that makes sense...? It's like when people project their anger on my tone when 9/10 I'm depressed, tired and my tone is honestly flat. Like now.

Getting upset at me over and over again, doesn't help me to be closer to you either. It makes me constantly hear I'm a disappointment and I'm fucking up or hurting you, because I'm not pushing myself to do more than I'm capable of emotionally and mentally. I apologize constantly and it becomes a huge thing of what did I do wrong now.... And again, that's not an isolated incident. It's numerous observations. I feel guilty for taking up time, when I'm not feeling good enough for the person. Does that even make sense?

I'm just tired of hating myself for not being the person people want me to be. I am transparent about my energy levels, my abilities to be a friend. I give so much of myself, and I admit that I have no perception of time outside of if I'm working or not, or when I work next. I constantly tell people this. Most people understand, but it's the ones that don't that I feel bad over, and who have more weight somehow...

I think the other thing upsetting me lately is, it wasn't the first time someone pretty much told me that my responses were apparently too long or too much and it was literally in response to their messages. And it just... Idk. People want to vent and yell and rant at me, but not read my responses? Intention or not. It settled in my chest weird and caused a big mental shut down for me in terms of feeling worth someone's time. It just...Idk. It hurt. It's still hurting. It's that feeling of why should I bother with something if that's how the person feels about my feelings. That they're only worth glossing over, when I make sure I read and respond appropriately to things... It hurt a lot. And it kind of just felt like why are you bothering with ME?

It's like how I got reprimanded for saying I felt like a filler friend. Those are my feelings. I'm allowed to feel them. Being yelled at or being told i shouldn't feel that way when history of numerous friendships proves it to be a valid feeling is...what??

I...mm. It made me feel like a fucking freak or something honestly. Like I'm a weirdo for responding to people's messages thoroughly? And it's not the first time, and maybe previous times are why I have such aversion to talking at length about myself and my feelings now.

I've just sort of put everything at a distance since. A few friends have texted me, and I've been working on fixing some friendships via opportunities that have arisen. But that shit cut me deep, and made me feel weird about friendships in general again. Like maybe I'm not supposed to be anyone's friend because apparently I can't do it right. I...try to be there when people need me, and reapond when spoken to, I make time to see people when they want to and even ask people when I feel safe enough to or am not exhausted from work...even when I'm exhausted I do...I buy lunch or dinner every time people come over because I feel if you come here, I owe you that much... Or Becca or I cook dinner... I....??

I like to think I'm a good and valuable friend, otherwise I guess people wouldn't be upset with me...but also like...I deserve respect that I'm not who I use to be, probably never will be again, and I'm constantly pushing myself more than I should because I love the people in my life, or I wouldn't make the space and time for them that I try to... I have faults, I'm not perfect, but I try to be as kind and courteous and considerate as I can be... I'm genuinely interested in things and engage when I can... Idfk. It's not.enouvh. But I'm never going to BE enough for people.

I shouldn't have to report to people when I'm not feeling well. I will make a post to social media because I catch myself, and it's easier to make a vague post about myself or a generalized comment so if someone is inclined to talk to me further, they can on their own engagement terms because I've also had friends who get mad I vent too much!!

It's like no matter what I do, I understand people are all different, but I've had such negative reactions from basic shit that I don't know how to be a person at times. Trauma shapes us, and I hate the mangled form of an incorrectly thrown vase I've become, but I'm trying to fix it and it's DIFFICULT.

But yaknow, I'm sure I'm just being dramatic or something. Or I'm the asshole. I don't think I've actually ever had someone hurt me and apologize after I've told them it hurt me. At least not sincerely. It's always met with defensive energy, like I'm a jerk for it?? Tone is a weird thing...

Which is EXACTLY why I don't tell people when they hurt me, because it blows up.in my face as I'm in the wrong, and my anxiety and energy peak and I just feel remorse for TRYING. So I'm not expecting anything to ever change in my life, and especially with my avoidance of Discord and Twitter right now.im super not expecting shit. It might be months before I check my messenger or.notes there becauee that's how my anxiety triggers with this shit. Friendship issues and potential abandonment and shit just make me give up on existing in shared spaces. That's avoidance ans I'm sure there's a million things to be said about it about me, but it just sucks. The way my anxiety makes me feel.in regards to these topics where I'm expected to trust people, but if I speak up.i feel immediately on edge because the reaction is that I'm bad and wrong...man. No, that feels bad. I hate it. And maybe that's why I'm so unfeeling anymore. Detached, as jt were...

Life's a fucking mess, and I need to take care of myself because my mental.heslth has been in scary places lately. And I don't try and burden people with it at all, because those are my demons. But also, like, I fake a lot of happiness and save face online, and like...that takes a lot out of me.

But... I'm tired.of not.letting myself be upset when someone severely hurts me on a fundamental level.for myself. I'm allowed to be hurt this.time. It sucked. Ans I don't know what to do anymore, because I'm tired of the energy suck of being told I'm basically in the wrong.

I feel resigned to just not have friends honestly. Like I'm too fucked in the head to have them, I guess?? That's what it feels like. I don't know what to do, I just... Don't want to exist honestly. Everything is already too much every day.

I gotta get ready to sleep because good ol work tomorrow and another day of autopilot. I've done nothing but come home, sleep, and wake up at 8pm and space out for three or four hours and go back to bed all week.

I'm burnt out on existing ans that thought brings me actual terror some days.

#kat life #ignore me #probabaly delete tomorrow #tumblr.has always been nice tk yell at the void ans clesr my ahit brain #theres jusy a legit mental breakdown over the horizon and im just trying tk keep.it together fkr a few.more weeks...

[gaasaku-fanfests]

I can't hold enough of you in my hands

Title: I can't hold enough of you in my hands Author: elleurs Rating: T Word Count: 2,504 words Summary: Band!au. Gaara as the vocalist. Sakura on bass. Gaara making moves on Sakura just before the show/during the show? Author’s Note(s): Someone help me, this took way too long to write and I hate myself haha. I love GaaSaku but AU is not my forte omg I’m sorryyyyyy I don’t know a lot of music stuff so forgive me uwu I did my best. Thanks for the prompt anon! Trope: Band!au. Gaara as the vocalist. Sakura on bass. Gaara making moves on Sakura just before the show/during the show?

.

X

D-Day: 7 days

Sakura has never played bass before, but it doesn’t stop Naruto from recruiting her into the band. She’s a sucker for her blond friend, especially when he pulls out his signature puppy-dog eyes and pleading pout combo.

How can she say no?

And okay, maybe Naruto buttering up to her for weeks with pandering statements of “Sakura-chan, you’re a genius, you’ll pick it up in no time!” and “You’re the only one I know who can definitely do it!” stroked her ego until she believed those words herself. Resigned, she’d finally agreed.

Bass guitar resting on her lap (courtesy of Ten-Ten’s brother), she opens the video tutorial Naruto sent to her the day before.

And promptly realises her book-smarts do not translate well to musical instruments.

She fumbles spectacularly. It’s not like she’s never held a guitar before (Ino dated Kiba for a while and he loved to show off how well he could play – he let her borrow it a few times for the ‘gram), but playing it is another matter.

The theory she understands – she can read the notes just fine, but once her fingers try to find the right string, it’s all downhill from there.

It sounds so horrible even to her untrained ears and she feels like crying.

Fuck her life.

X

D-Day: 6 days

Gaara is…quiet.

It’s weird, because he’s the vocalist, but she doesn’t complain – Naruto speaks enough for the both of them.

For all three of them, really.

“We’re planning to just do a cover of this song,” Naruto explains, slinging an arm on her shoulder. He works out daily at the gym, and his arm is so heavy that she hurriedly shrugs it off before her neck breaks.

Gaara’s behind them, hands in pockets and headphones blasting who knows what song. She looks between him and Naruto and wonders how they met.

She meets Gaara’s gaze, and he’s the first to look away, frowning.

“Gaara’s on strict orders not to say anything until near the performance,” Naruto continues, blissfully unaware. “Aren’t you, Gaara? He’s had a sore throat for the past few days! Only one song, don’t worry. They know Neji stopped playing for us, so they just want us to play something different.” She nods, half-listening.

Their usual bass player, Neji, had to stop once his uncle found out he’d been skipping cello lessons to play in their band. Sakura had only met the uncle once. She can’t blame Neji for backing down.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell Naruto how badly her first foray into bass playing went. Instead she keeps her mouth shut.

It’s just one song.

She can do it.

When she gets home, she works through the online bass tutorials between homework sets and assignment research. She practices until the pads of her fingers on her left hand have little creases from when she would press the strings. She practices hard because she doesn’t want to embarrass herself, but most of all, she didn’t want to let Naruto down.

Naruto has that effect on people, she thinks as she carefully places the bass guitar back on its stand (thank you, Tenten’s brother).

He makes you want to try harder.

X

D-Day: 5 days

Naruto hands her the music sheet with no words. Then he hands her another sheet with just the bass tabs.

“I wasn’t sure which one you’re more comfortable with reading,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. She smiles, grateful, and takes the tab.

It’s a lot easier than the music sheet because it shows the strings and which part to press. But still, she gets the placing of her fingers the other way around, or she plucks the wrong string.

There’s only four strings in a bass guitar, which makes her feel even more of a failure, but she struggles on, practising her part diligently until Gaara comes in. Naruto stops playing the drums and throws his friend a grin.

“Maybe help Sakura for now?” he calls out. “If you play the guitar, she might get confused.” Normally, Sakura will be affronted because Sakura does not get confused. She silently endures and makes personal executive decisions in order to prevent that very scenario. That is quintessential Sakura Haruno right there.

But before she can retort, Gaara grabs a chair and sits in front of her, arms crossed and face carefully blank. She’s not sure what to do, but then decides to hell with it and starts from the beginning.

His stares are heavy and she feels uncomfortable. He waits until she finishes the song and made a circle with his finger, indicating for her to start again. Shrugging, she flips back to the first page of the tab and starts to play. Too focused on the music in front of her, she doesn’t notice Gaara until he stood right behind her.

Both his hands brush past her waist and he places them on top of hers. He positions her right hand until her thumb is resting on the highest string and her other fingers are curled, poised for the next note. Next, he fixes her left hand so that the pad of her index finger is on the edge of the fret.

She feels his breath near her ear and her brain short-circuits at the proximity. His hands over hers is warm as he leads her to play the next few notes. When he plucks the strings, she’s surprised at the clear sound the bass makes.

“T-Thanks,” she says, “I got it from here.” Gaara steps back and sits back down.

She messes up so badly that Naruto stops playing the drums and asks her if she’s okay.

X

       D-Day: 4 days

She may or may not have stayed up late last night going over the music.

In typical Naruto fashion, he only gave her the music sheet for the bass, so she has no idea what the song even is, or how the main melody goes. She hopes what she practiced will be enough because what happened yesterday –

She doesn’t even want to think about it. Her cheeks are red from embarrassment.

In the next practice, she doesn’t make a mistake until Gaara walks in. And then her fingers fumble, missing a few beats.

“Don’t do that on the day,” Gaara says as he straps his guitar. It’s the first thing he says to her. That – That –

That asshole!

“I won’t,” she retorts, gritting her teeth. She turns her body away, part embarrassed, part angry, and practises her strumming, trying to remember where to place her fingers and to strum on time. She can feel his gaze on her but she doesn’t care about that pompous asshole and keeps playing.

They’re lucky she even said yes to this thing! Didn’t he know she’s a busy person? She could be doing a hundred other things, but here she is, playing this stupid bass on their stupid band.

When Naruto arrives, Sakura is ready to go home.

“But we have to practice!” Naruto shouts as she stomps out of the room.

“I’ll practise by myself!” she says without turning back.

That night, Sakura practices her part over and over again until she memorises where her fingers are supposed to go and which string she’s supposed to pluck. Every time she falters, she thinks back on Gaara’s words and his haughty expression. It’s enough to make her want to wow him tomorrow and make him eat his words.

She imagines playing the bass so good his jaw drops on the floor, but privately, she thinks that it would be easier to just smash the bass on his face.

It’d be much more satisfying, too.

X

D-Day: 3 days

In the next practice, Gaara is absent.

“His body finally gave out, I guess,” Naruto says as he twirls the drumsticks in the air and catches one of them. He hurriedly stoops down to pick it up. When he stands up, he sees Sakura’s alarmed expression and hastily adds, “He finds it really hard to sleep, so he can go a couple of days without sleeping.”

Sakura still looks alarmed. “What?” Naruto scratches his cheek absentmindedly.

“He’s an insomniac,” he clarifies. “That’s why he doesn’t practice with us. He usually practices late at night until early morning. Hey, did you know he can play a lot of instruments? His house has like, a huge music room with just instruments, you know?”

Sakura holds up a hand to stop her friend before he completely derails the conversation. “Is his body okay? Should we check on him?”

“I dunno, he said it’s been like that since he’s young. Oh yeah, you know the music sheet I gave you? He transcribed all of it, by the way! He even made the bass parts himself! I couldn’t find the bass tabs anywhere so-“

Sakura’s stomach backflips at this piece of information. “Should we check on him?”

“Nah, he won’t answer the phone. It’s probably a good idea to let him sleep, it’s been a while since he could get a proper rest.”

“He’ll be fine?”

“Don’t worry, Sakura-chan! He’ll be here tomorrow!”

Sakura stares at the empty chair where Gaara usually sits and frowns. Turning away, she gives a signal to Naruto.

“One, two, three!”

She doesn’t make a mistake once.

X

D-Day: 2 days

Gaara is here and his stare is heavy.

Sakura loves books, and she knows the expression well (trashy romance books are her ultimate guilty pleasures, after all), but it’s the first time in her life she actually experiences it– she’s not sure what to think.

It’s intense, and the way their eyes meet every so often causes her to redden – from embarrassment or what, she’s not sure.

Still, she refuses to be embarrassed – honestly, it’s too late for that now. Their performance is in a few days (!!!!), and the thought makes Sakura’s hands sweat. She misses a few bars in the song, and she doesn’t miss the way Gaara’s eyebrow raised, mocking her.

She grits her teeth when Naruto stops his drumming and tells her they’re going to start from the top. He’s unusually determined, and she can’t muster her usual sarcastic retort because this time, the fault is with her. Instead, she nods and grips the neck of the bass guitar a little tighter.

Gaara’s stare is as heavy as having Naruto’s arm around her shoulders.

Maybe even heavier.

She ignores it, and after a few play throughs, she finally plays it all the way through without any mistakes. It’s a miracle, she thinks, because her mind is half on the song and half on the red-haired boy in front of her.

She wants to meet his stare head on. Maybe narrow them in distaste. Except she maybe kind of likes him. A little bit. A super tiny little bit. A microscopic, tiny bit. The thought of him transcribing bass tabs for her in the middle of the night makes her stomach queasy and her heart tighten. He’s still an asshole, though.

So maybe not distaste but – silent contemplation?

Something like that.

 X

D-Day: 1 day

It’s the day before the performance and Sakura’s heart beats so fast she thinks she might throw up. The stage manager at Shuriken fusses around them on small stage, a short woman with hair up in a bun and wearing a perpetual bitch face. She screams at a poor guy named Tobi.

“No, Tobi,” the stage manager says. Sakura listens to their conversation because it’s better than realising she’ll have to play to a live audience. “Damnit, where’s Deidara? Let me speak to him instead – why? Because you’re a fucking idiot, that’s why! Fuck off and find me Deidara!” Tobi scurries off, but not before flipping a finger behind her back. The stage manager gives Sakura a brief once over and groans, before pointing at her guitar.

Sakura’s confused look only serves to make her impatient, and she snaps her fingers and points at her guitar again. Does she want the guitar?

“I’m surrounded by idiots, fucking hell,” the woman grumbles, before kneeling down and plugging something onto Sakura’s guitar. “Damnit, Tobi, where the fuck is Deidara?” She storms off and the other staff gives her wide berth.

Naruto bumps elbows with her. “Don’t take her too seriously, Sakura-chan! She’s like that, but she’s very good at her job. Right, Gaara?” Gaara grunts.

Sakura isn’t reassured, but tries to smile anyway. The Shuriken isn’t that big – with Konoha University’s funds focusing on sports, it’s a dingy bar at best. Most students go there anyway instead of the games. The drinks are cheap, and if you’re with a band, you get a few drinks for free.

“Gaara’s going to do an acoustic at the first part,” Naruto explains as he sits down in front of the drum set. “Then he’s going to swap the acoustic for electric. Once he does, I’ll count you in.”

It takes them a couple of times but they finally figure it out. Gaara doesn’t sing because Tobi lost the mics.

“Tobi, you’re fucking useless!” the stage woman screams while they practice. “You’re dead meat, you hear me? And where the fuck is Deidara?”

Sakura prays tomorrow will be smooth sailing.

 X

D-Day

Sakura’s hands are sweating and shaking so much. They’re behind a curtain, waiting for Sasuke’s band, Sharingan, to finish their set. Her heart is beating so loudly she can’t even focus or enjoy the music. Naruto is nowhere to be found, probably hanging out with Hinata before their performance.

Where’s Naruto when you need him?

Gaara sees her alarmed expression and approaches. Her heartbeat skyrockets.

“Put your hands out like this,” he says, placing his hands as if in prayer. She does the same. He slaps the backs of her hands, surprising her. It stings a little. “Are they still shaking?” She looks at her hands.

“N-No,” she stammers. Gaara smiles (HE CAN SMILE????) and pats her head.

“Just do what you did yesterday,” he says. She’s still stupefied at seeing his smile (HE IS CAPABLE OF SMILING!!). “If you mess up, I’ll cover for you.”

“You’re singing and playing the guitar though,” she points out.

Gaara raises a brow. “So?” So cocky. Much asshole.

She doesn’t notice because her brain is still restarting from his smile.

He can smile. And his eyes crinkle in the cutest way possible. She wants to melt, and realises his smile is a potent weapon against her. Even more potent than Naruto’s his signature puppy-dog eyes and pleading pout combo. She’ll never be able to say ‘no’ to that smile.

The thought scares her.

Fuck.

The Sharingan finishes their set and leaves the stage.

Fuck.

“Wanna go out for drinks later?” Gaara asks nonchalantly as they walk to the stage.

She stares at him, eyes wide as the reality sinks in. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins as she stares at the crowd and then stares at him.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Fuck yes.”

X

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All Fanfest #fanfic #elleurs

[mycatshuman]

Good Deeds

Chapter 8: Famil-versary

Word Count: 1,149

Pairings: Prinxiety

Previous | More

And here it is the final chapter. I want to thank you all for reading this. I really appreciate it! I had fun writing this. And I enjoyed writing the angst. Don't worry, there's no more angst. This chapter is just fluff. I think... Thanks for reading .

------------

Roman lowered the sound on his tv as his brother slowly came out of the guest bedroom. "I'm sorry for the way I acted back there."

Roman sighed. "It's okay, you were upset." Remus nodded. Roman took a deep breath before pointing to a chair beside him. "Could you sit down please, I kind of have something I would like to talk to you about." Remus unceremoniously dropped down into the chair and looked at his brother expectantly. Roman bit his lip. "We both know I didn't exactly want this job. And I've been doing some thinking and honestly, I am hardly happy anymore. So, I'm resigning."

Remus sat up suddenly, surprised. "You're quitting?" 

Roman nodded. "Logan will take my place until you're ready."

"That's great," Remus said earnestly, too happy for his brother to be mad that he wouldn't be taking on the company right away. "I'm glad you're finally doing something for yourself." 

Roman smiled nervously. "Yeah, I'm a little scared but.." his smile turned sweet. "Virgil has promised to help me adjust." 

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you guys gonna f-" 

"Don't!" Roman quickly cut his brother off. "We're taking things slow. But, I'm going to use the money I saved working to help us both start on the path to our dreams." Roman stared at his hands dreamily. "And maybe he'll write me a love song." 

Remus snorted. "Wow, he really has done a number on ya, huh?" A rare sincere smile pulled at his face. "I'm glad someone finally knocked some sense into ya." 

Roman laughed. "Yeah, me too." 

-------------

"Can you come over today?" Joan asked Thomas as they left school that day. 

Thomas shook his head. "Sorry, not today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay. Talyn?" 

"Sure!" Talyn replied as they shifted their school bag. They frowned. "Why can't you come, Thomas?" 

Thomas smiled as his eyes caught something ahead of them. "It's our family-versary." 

Talyn and Joan nodded. "Oh! Right! Have fun! We'll see you tomorrow!" 

Thomas waved goodbye to his friends before racing to his brothers' care with a wide grin on his face. "Sup Thomathy, how was school?" Virgil asked before Thomas knocked the wind out of him with a hug. 

"Woah! Looks like somebody is happy. Now do I get a hug?" Roman asked with a chuckle. 

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Roman. "No, he's my brother." 

Roman frowned. "Well, we're married so he's my brother too." 

"He was my brother first." 

Roman put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Ouch, how dare?" 

Thomas laughed before pulling away from Virgil to hug his brother-in-law. "Don't worry, I've got enough hugs to go around." 

Virgil pouted playfully before getting into the car. "Come on, let's go." 

-----------

The night was coming to an end, and with it, the end of this year's Sanders-Deeds Family-versary. It had been a few years since Roman quit his job and began pursuing his dream. Since then, he has become a fairly famous actor on the stage. He entered a relationship with Virgil and got married a year ago. Virgil was doing well too. He had just recently kicked off on YouTube with his latest song. And Thomas was perfectly happy. He had the best big brothers in the world and many amazing friends. In fact, at the end of this year he would be starting college. 

They had started the family-versary in the beginning of their first year together. It was a way to celebrate their little found family. They would spend the day being a family and looking back on memories. Then, at the end of the day, they would share what about their family that they were thankful for and why. Each year tended to be a bit of a tear jerker. And this year was no different. 

-------

"Alright," Roman started. "I'll go first." He smiled at Virgil. "I'm so thankful for you, Virgil. Without you, I would probably be still stuck at a job I didn't enjoy. I am so grateful that you came into my life and helped me break free and follow my dreams." Tears pooled in Virgil's eyes as he tried to keep it together. "Thomas, I am so thankful to you for being such an amazing person and brother. I-" Roman began to choke up. "Without your quick thinking, we might not have Virgil with us today. And I would never have gotten to be a part of your wonderful family. Thank you." 

"Fuck you for being so sappy!" Virgil cried as tears spilled down his face. Thomas's face matched his brothers' as he fruitlessly attempted to wipe the tears away. 

"I love you guys." 

Virgil smiled wetly before taking a deep breath. "I guess it's my turn now." He sighed. "Thomas, I am so thankful to have you as a brother. I cannot imagine how my life would have turned out without you. You are the best brother I could have asked for." Thomas quickly brushed away tears as Virgil turned to Roman. "Roman, I'm thankful that you are so kind and caring. Without you, Thomas and I wouldn't be here right now. And I can not thank you enough for coming into our lives." 

Roman let out a loud sob. "I didn't know you had it in you to be that sappy!" He exclaimed as he tried to compose himself. 

"Well, it's my turn so, I'll start with Virgil," Thomas began. "I am very thankful to have a brother like you. I know it must have been hard for you to start taking care of me completely on your own, starting with only our things, your can, and a little bit of money. I know you had to have been scared. But you did it, and you did the best you could for me and I'm so grateful for that."

"Shit, I told myself I was gonna cry this much," Virgil sniffled. He pulled Thomas into a hug. Thomas smiled softly and patted his brother's back before pulling away. 

"Roman, I am so grateful to have you in our lives. You helped us. And you make Virgil happy. I-" Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't came to our rescue when Virgil fainted. I-" Thomas paused as he fought to keep his tears under control. "He might have died and I would have been shipped back to our parents. I can't thank you enough for helping us. And I am so happy that you are a part of our family now. Thank you, Roman."

Tears flowed rapidly down Roman's face. "Oh my god," he cried. "Thomas, I-" Roman cut himself off as he pulled his brother-in-law into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you," he sobbed. "Come on, get in here, Virgil!" Roman yanked his husband into the family hug. 

Yeah, good deeds sure were life changing sometimes. 

-----------

Everything taglist: @misery-killed-me @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

Good Deeds taglist: @ureilthealienboio @midnight-personal @supreme-overlord-bubbles @dn-fan21 @soul-of-a-vixen @mellow-yellow-nutella @anxious-but-trying-my-best @sanders-sides-rebloger @kool-bi-69 @ghosttb0y @thevirgantone @prismartist @shamelesslypoetoc @icequeenoriginal @are-you-even--real @sparkedawg @hitmewiththatfanart33 @tranquil-space-ninja

#good deeds au #good deeds fic #mycatshuman writing #mycatshuman fics #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #sanders sides roman #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides #thomas sanders #character thomas #ts roman #ts virgil #ts thomas #ts prinxiety #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #brief remus sanders

[autumnblogs]

Day 68: Reunion

https://homestuck.com/story/7457

Just because Vriska is happy to take credit for everyone’s shit being in order doesn’t really mean all the credit realistically belongs to her.

Which isn’t to say she gets none of the credit; her willingness to time-travel (which Dave is presumably still hung up on) and her ability to put Jade to sleep definitely helped things not go straight to shit.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/7458

Vriska’s presence, while tactically necessary for victory, sucks practically all the air out of the room. Almost no one else can get a word in edgewise. While she’s around post-retcon, practically everyone else is reduced to a secondary character in any conversation with her. Luckily, she doesn’t stick around long - just exactly long enough to be useful.

https://homestuck.com/story/7459

The Scourge Sisters are complicated characters.

Terezi spends a lot of this conversation hedging. It seems like, however well-intentioned and “necessary” Terezi’s choice to save Vriska’s life might have been for the greater good, the story passes very little judgement one way or the other on her whether that was right.

On the one hand, it’s the thing that Terezi did choose, and it seems appropriate that if she were going to use her power to reverse an action, it should be to reverse a choice that she made.

On the other hand... Vriska shows us that reasoning may not necessarily be sufficient, or redemptive - and indeed, while Terezi’s decision does repair things for just about everyone else... it doesn’t actually make things too much better for her in the end.

She spends a lot of time hedging throughout this conversation, using qualifiers like, Might, and I Think, and I Say - she wants to avoid directly contradicting Vriska, and there’s something deeply disconcerting about it.

Choosing not to kill Vriska may have spared her the burden of that on her conscience, but it ultimately doesn’t seem to have spared her confidence.

https://homestuck.com/story/7460

I’ve always felt like there’s an eeriness to the way the characters act here, and I feel like part of why they might feel so fake is they feel like they’ve almost kind of... reset to pre-Act 6 characterizations? The broad-strokes characterization we got from the Vriskagram leaves little for us to work with in terms of imagining their new inner lives, and because so much of Homestuck operates literally on the narrative layer, any development that we didn’t see didn’t happen; it’s completely inconsequential.

And with the characters all interacting in this no-stakes environment, they feel less like Homestuck characters, and uncomfortably more like Sitcom Characters - static, a set of self-referential character traits.

They’re still the same people - that’s the nature of the Ultimate Self - but they don’t feel like it. Or at the very least, they don’t feel like it while they’re on the Lilypad here.

Let’s see where we go.

https://homestuck.com/story/7480

John is weirdly amicable with Vriska considering the terms that they parted on the last time that they spoke - especially considering he overtly resisted the idea of giving Vriska the Ring of Life to bring her back from the dead.

Perhaps the rush at seeing all of his friends happy and alive is enough to wash that over.

https://homestuck.com/story/7487

A few things from this conversation;

The first thing is that in spite of immediately, loudly, and insistently proclaiming that he is now real as a motherfucker can be, Dave immediately starts qualifying, and explaining himself in verbal essay form the moment his own emotions are actually what’s being examined.

He directly identifies the idea of living up to an ideal of masculinity with the idea of heroism, so that’s points for my Caliborn essay, hah!

https://homestuck.com/story/7488

As predicted by Homosuck, Dave and Karkat’s relationship isn’t just turbulent, it’s anime turbulent! Hot and cold, tsundere even.

https://homestuck.com/story/7491

The parallel between Dave’s bicurious thoughts (and almost certain bisexuality) and John entertaining Black Emotions for Terezi is a weird way to do that, but I guess nobody ever accused Homestuck of being a normal work of fiction.

https://homestuck.com/story/7493

It’s nice for Rose to finally reach a place of some comfort in her storyline; a place where she can be rigorously self-critical without succumbing to pessimism and despair.

It’s nice. That’s all.

https://homestuck.com/story/7497

Jake also engaging in some rigorous self-critique, and what with his status as the Page of Hope, I don’t believe that in the long term, he will succumb to pessimism and despair either.

No sir - I think that whatever other somewhat bastardy things Jake may be, he is not, at the end of the day, a loser.

https://homestuck.com/story/7499

The great irony here, is we know of course that Vriska is wrong. Tavros is wrong too to just flatter Jake. He needs support; he needs help. He doesn’t need to give up either by falling prey to Vriska’s pessimism, or to Tavros’s false confidence.

https://homestuck.com/story/7500

I think it’s really interesting that what Vriska makes this all about is the fact that she blinded Terezi, and not that she crippled Tavros. There’s always been a degree to which, outside of her adversarial courtship with Tavros, she just doesn’t really treat him like a person - she treats him like an object of gratification, or a project, or collateral in her relationship with someone else, but never legitimately as a peer. The fact that she murdered Aradia and crippled Tavros doesn’t even factor into her self-estimation (especially now that she has resurrected Tavros as a sprite.)

https://homestuck.com/story/7501

Remarkably, Vriska actually has some good fucking advice for someone else for once. I don’t think that anyone should be comfortable with their flaws - what is legitimately a flaw is what estranges us from other people, causes us to hurt them, and ourselves. CERTAINLY no one should be as comfortable with them as Vriska is with herself.

But humans are all intrinsically flawed, it’s not something we can grow past, at least not in this life. Perfection is not something that can be attained to. But living with other human beings, being able to survive with them means being able to be comfortable now with our flaws, but with their flaws. I think that’s probably the meaning of forgiveness. Knowing that other people will hurt us, and deciding we can be down with that.

https://homestuck.com/story/7502

Roxy and Dave are adorable, enough said.

I like Dave’s description of his floppy imaginary men - comparing them to puppets, and the way he describes them railing against the confines of their virtual prison feels like a really obvious metaphor for exactly what the characters of Homestuck are busy doing.

https://homestuck.com/story/7504

I think someone - maybe even Andrew - has stated that the entire point of Rose’s quest is to alienate her from it. It’s like Baby’s First Character Arc - personal growth all wrapped up in bright pastels. Exactly the sort of thing that would piss off a challenge-seeking young lady like Rose.

The point of Rose’s rejection of her quest is that there are not arbitrary loops someone has to jump through in order to earn personhood. Or as Dave puts it in a moment, “we don’t have arcs.”

https://homestuck.com/story/7509

There’s an eerie extent to which, as friendly as she is with Vriska, Kanaya seems almost to talk about her as a dead woman walking. Even talk to her as a dead woman walking.

She has a certain emotional distance to her - fond of her, but not attached, even resigned to Vriska being the way she is. It’s like small-talk between people who used to know each other. I get the impression less that Kanaya is being friendly with Vriska, and more that... she’s being nice to each Vriska, rather than genuinely friendly.

Maybe it’s because she is moving forward into the future with people that she loves, while Vriska...

Vriska is living in the past; preoccupied with her own past misdeeds (to some extent or another), preoccupied with Lord English’s narrative, and her need to be the one who destroys him

https://homestuck.com/story/7513

It only occurred to me at this very moment  to talk about John and Jake’s shared love of terrible movies; and the way in which they both model themselves off of their movie heroes.

https://homestuck.com/story/7514

John’s warm positivity toward Jake is... honestly, one of the best things in the comic. I’m sad we don’t get to see more of Jake’s character arc, and I’ve always thought it was kind of a crime that Homestuck just leaves him here, more or less.

Reunion done, we’ll pause here for the night, and continue tomorrow. Fairly short episode tonight, but in terms of the amount of text, that was a lot of reading, so I forgive myself.

See you tomorrow for some strategizing, and some more problems and feelings.

For now, Cam signing off, Alive and thanks to you guys, not Alone.

#commentary #liveblogging