#if one person tells me that this was obviously lazily written your getting blocked

[jojoboisimagines]

Josuke x Reader :: Promposal :: Ch. 5

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summary: A strange new transfer student has enrolled in Budogaoka High School. Josuke falls head over heels for her, but has a limited time to win her over before the school prom.

.::.

The accusations thrown at Josuke by his baffled mother were hard to listen to, especially with your face practically burning from it and hearing only ringing in your ears from the shock alone and having to sit in the midst of the two arguing. You decided your best bet was to hurry, pack your stuff and leave. You’d maybe call him later to let him know why you left and tell him that your time together was great, lest he get the wrong idea.

It was easy to sneak past them. They did seem like the types to block everything else out when stubborn. Perhaps that's why some considered him and his friends delinquents.

.::.

About an hour later, you found yourself dialing Josuke’s number (or well, his house number) while lazily lying on the bed of your temporary apartment. He had written it at the bottom of his love letter, which you actually bothered to keep amongst all the other ones. 

“Yeah, I see. Thanks for calling me instead of just leaving me hangin’.”

“No problem...I’ll see you tomorrow at school. Sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.”

“No no”, he was quick to disagree, “It’s fine, my mom just gets fussy like that sometimes, its not your fault at all. To be fair I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You frowned. He shouldn’t have blamed himself. You weren’t being entirely courteous as a guest either to fall asleep on him like that. He spoke up before you could say anything about it.

“Did you have fun though---er, get a good study in? I know I did. Cleared up a lot of stuff I was missin’ during class. Thanks a lot for that!” You could hear the grin in his voice. Admittedly, he had a nice voice to listen to. But you convinced yourself that was just a supplementary compliment rather than you starting to have a school girl crush on him like the rest of his groupies.

You wondered what drew them to him in the first place. Was it his hair? It would seem like he’d take pride in having groupies if it was for that reason, being so uptight about his hairstyle and all. Yet he would always look so annoyed whenever they came up to him, so that probably wasn’t the reason. His personality? No, they hardly let him get a word in whenever they bombard him. His height?

...Fair assumption.

“Hey, (Y/N), you there?”

Crap, had you been spacing out?

“Yeah, I’m here.” You replied, rubbing your eyes.

“Do you have time tomorrow for ice cream after school? Its totally cool if you’re not, I understand.”

You did have a bit of studying to do to keep your grades up (and to keep up appearances, but that was less important) but keeping Josuke happy in your friendship did also mean something to you. Skipping one study session wouldn’t be that much of a deal, you could skim through it once you get home anyway.

“Oh no no, I’m down for it.”

Josuke’s tone noticeably turned up an octave after hearing that. “Cool! You wanna come by my house or I’ll come by yours?”

After saying he could pick you up from your own house (especially thinking about how Tomoko would react) he joyfully lets out a ‘sweet!’ and you exchange your goodbyes before hanging up.

One thing you could safely say about Josuke at this point is that he was certainly...interesting. If you had to weigh your options between giving everyone that sent you a letter an opportunity to court you and just only giving Josuke a chance for the time being, the latter set well with you far more.

.::.

Classes had passed by rather quickly. It almost seemed like a blur but you didn’t mind it. At first the thought of instantly going home and looking over the notes you took to refresh your memory came into your head, before Josuke and Okuyasu voices behind you made you realize what you had planned already. You had recognized the other two, but hadn’t bothered to hold a single conversation with either of them. 

As far as you knew, they were just ‘the guy who looks like he’s still in elementary’ and ‘the guy that looks like he’s committed a crime before’.

However you would withhold your assumptions for the time being and attempt to get to know them truthfully. They seemed excited to see you, anyway.

“Glad to see you waited for us (y/n!)” Josuke happily said.

You didn’t really. But you forced a smile as if you did anyway.

Josuke stopped behind you and contemplated putting an arm around you like he would his other buddies, but decided against it, thinking maybe the two of you weren’t at that point yet. You didn’t exactly seem like the touchy type either. Instead his hand firmly rested on your shoulder, his face offering a kind, genuine smile towards you. 

Gesturing toward his friends, he began to introduce them. “(Y/n), this is Okuyasu Nijimura and Koichi Hirose. They’ve kinda been excited to meet ya ever since we started hanging out.” Josuke lets out quite the cute chuckle as his free hand finds itself sheepishly behind his neck now.

“Yo!” Okuyasu was quick to greet you with quite possibly the biggest grin you’ve seen anyone sport since you’ve gotten to this country. Koichi on the other hand seemed a little more calm and reserved, saying a simple ‘hello!’ with a wave.

They didn’t seem too bad now as you had thought before, but you’d keep your eye on them. After the introduction Josuke had mentioned that itd be wise to get to the ice cream truck as soon as possible, seeing that it might leave the neighborhood soon. You still were a bit unfamiliar with the area, so you followed behind the other three and let them lead the way.

.::.

When the four of you finally arrived to the spot of the parked vehicle, you had just noticed that you’d tuned out the conversation that was had on the way here. Now that you think about it, Okuyasu was pretty swift to wrap an arm around his taller friend’s shoulder and immediately start talking about something else. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you had thought Josuke would’ve been inclined to talk to you during the brief walk. That’s what you were invited for, right? Or is this just what he does with all his friends?

The lack of attention didn’t bother you that badly, as you’re generally used to it, but you still couldn’t help but wonder.

You had walked up to the window to get your own ice cream, before Koichi promptly stopped you, pulling out his own wallet.

“Hey, I can pay for your ice cream for you!”

You blinked, not exactly sure how you were supposed to respond to that. “It’s alright, you don’t have to.”

“No I insist! Don’t worry about it okay?” The small boy smiled at you, a face that was pretty hard for you to resist. Giving a slight nod, he proceeded to pay for it. You did get the biggest size they offered though, who’s to say you couldn’t after he graciously agreed to pay?

You and Koichi walked back to the others, already sitting down in the park with the ice creams and chatting. As you were making your way over there, Josuke looked back at the two of you, his happy grin melding into a guilty wide-eyed frown.

He turned back around when you and his other friend walked past the bench he and Okuyasu sat on to go to another one across from them. Without even glancing at him, you started to eat your ice cream. From the corner of your eye you could see the pompadoured teen lightly tap his clueless friend, motioning them to move to the same bench you and Koichi were.

Trying to prevent things from becoming awkward, Josuke immediately started talking to you as he sat down. “So, (Y/n), is that your favorite flavor?”

You nodded, not trying to get distracted from your melting ice cream.

“Cool, I like that flavor too. I really really like strawberry though, especially the kind they have at the truck.”

“Strawberry’s a good flavor.” Okuyasu chimed in. “But Koichi likes nasty shit, like pistachio. Bleh!” He stuck his tongue out to emphasize his disgust. The shorter teen was slightly offended.

“Hey, its good with the right toppings! At least I don’t bombard my ice cream with everything, if you’re careless like that, you’ll get a cavity!”

Oku dismissively waved his hand. “Whatever. I’ll just go to Tonio’s again and it’ll be good as new, so there’s no problem!” He grinned.

Koichi sighed, and you were left wondering what kind of place “Tonio’s” was.

“Oh right, we need to take (Y/n)-chan there someday!” Josuke added. “Maybe we should do a little tour thing of Morioh for you, would you like that?”

You happily nodded, almost at the end of your ice cream. The three of them had gotten along so naturally

Eventually everyone else got done with theirs and began to throw everything away. Koichi had started on his way home, saying that he was going to start on his studying before his goodbye. Thinking you should do the same, Josuke walked in front of you.

“Hey me and Okuyasu are gonna hang at my house, so we can walk you home first okay?” 

“Okay.” Probably the first time you said something in about an hour. You saw Okuyasu about to walk up with Josuke again, but was stopped immediately and whispered something by Josuke. After which, he hung behind the two of you for the remainder of the walk.

When your apartment was reached, The boys asked if you enjoyed yourself and you happily responded with yes and that you’d love to hang out again, before going up the stairs and waving goodbye.

The two of them stood there for a while, making sure you were safe up until you got inside the house. As you closed the door, Josuke let out a groan and his head sunk into his hands. Okuyasu, obviously concerned by this, put a hand on his shoulder.

“Bro? You okay?”

Jojo shook his head. “Ughh..I can’t believe I let that happen. She must’ve felt so left out. I didn’t even pay enough attention that Koichi paid for her stuff..god..That didn’t look good at all.”

“Hey, you’re not obligated to treat her like a queen or anythin’. You’re still just friends right now right?” He tried to reassure his downtrodden friend.

“Yeah but...I still feel like a dick. I invited her there..Plus there’s also the fact that she’s got a limited time here in Morioh..” His blue eyes widened after saying that statement, the realization just now hitting him. It was so silent all the boys could hear was the slight breeze ruffling the trees.

“Huh, now that I think about it, why are you tryin’ to woo someone who’s a transfer student? Seems kinda rough to get someone to fall for you in a few weeks...unless you’re Yukako.”

“Goddammit Okuyasu, I don’t get to choose who I fall in love with!” 

His fist balled up again, lips going dry as he resented saying things before thinking about them first. 

“Woah...Josuke..”

Before he could say anything else, the teens noticed a slight shift in the window blinds where a light was on in your apartment. 

‘Holy crap, i hope thats not her, i’d shit myself if it is!’

“C-C’mon Okuyasu, lets get out of here, I-I’ll race you!” He bolted down the sidewalk in the direction of his house, with his best friend in tow. 

It was you who had peeked out the window from your living room, but only because you were startled by the sound of someone shouting. You didn’t see anyone when you fully pulled the blinds back, must’ve been your imagination. Putting the window back as it was, you returned to your studying.

#josuke x reader #Josuke Higashikata #josuke imagine #josuke higashikata x reader #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

[jenoptimist]

request:

can I request enemies to lovers with Lucas 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

✮ Pairing: lucas x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: (one-sided) enemies2lovers | shopkeeper!au

✮ Additional info: miscommunication & misunderstandings

✮ Word count: 5.3k

♡ Yakult says: thank you so much for the request !! i decided to make this be in the same au as my florist!xiaojun fic but it takes place before it 🤪 don’t worry though, you can read this as a standalone !! 

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Dream Puffs stood in between a quaint bookshop named Moon’s Bookworms and the one and only tattoo and piercing studio in your small town aptly named, Nakamoto’s Body Art Studio. All three buildings adhered to a similar color scheme which consisted of various shades of brown; Moon’s Bookworms was displayed with gold plated, elegant lettering and a dark mahogany colored body, Nakamoto’s Body Art Studio was written with bright neon lights against an umber colored building and the Dream Puffs building was the color of pecans, its name displayed in large, white letters. The buildings across the street were the exact opposite; the flower shop Rainbow V was colored in pretty pastels and the bright thrift shop Tern & Ten’s Treasures was a fusion of artsy and chic. There was an empty outlet just in the middle of the two stores, directly across from Dream Puffs, that was very obviously lacking the loud personalities all the buildings on that side owned. 

Recently there had been rumors that the lot had been sold a couple of weeks ago and that whoever had bought it also would be moving into the apartment directly across from yours. Although your curiosity was peaked, not catching a single sight of the newcomer, you knew that you weren’t the only one. The other owners on the block had gathered around in the far corner of your cozy café, gossiping among one another. It seemed as if Yuta and Yongqin were doing most of the chatting, Kun and Taeil chiming in whenever they thought it was appropriate. Seeing as the rush of customers had officially calmed down, a few of your regulars in their usual seats, you allowed yourself to part take in their conversation when Yuta waved you over with that dazzling smile of his. 

“So, y/n, what do you think?” The tattoo artist asked, his cheek resting in the palm of his left hand. 

“What do I think about what?” You shot back quizzically as you sat down, automatically setting the nape of your neck on top of Yongqin’s arm when he rested it on the back of your chair.

“What kind of store do you think this mystery person will open up?” Taeil clarified, lazily fiddling with the straw in his iced-tea in between his index finger and thumb.

You hummed. “Maybe something for arts and crafts?” You weren’t good at guessing but you did know that a store that catered for specific types of painting and drawing materials were needed, judging by Taeyong’s constant complaints about how there should be an art supply store because shipping was too expensive every time he bought something online.

At your side, Yongqin practically began vibrating with excitement along with Yuta across from you. Their reactions were something you expected since the two of them, as well as and Taeyong, were extremely talented artists; where Taeyong and Yongqin drew for fun, Yuta’s job as a tattoo artists required him to draw on a regular basis and he absolutely adored it. As Yongqin and Yuta chatted excitedly, Taeil chiming in every now and again, your eyes zeroed in on Kun as he sipped on his latte, his eyes suspiciously shifty. Before you could voice out your question, someone entered the café and headed straight for the counter. You had sent Doyoung and Taeyong on their breaks ten minutes prior so you had no choice but to slip out of your chair and bounce over behind the counter.

While the customer’s eyes roamed the menu above you, you occupied yourself with wiping the counter and when you couldn’t pretend to clean anymore, you drummed your fingers on your thigh. Finally, the tall - and extremely attractive - man made eye contact with you. With a smile you hoped wasn’t awkward, you tapped in his three drink orders and asked if he’d like any of the sweets on display since he was studying them so intensely.

“Can I have one of each?” 

It wasn’t an unusual request, plenty of customers had asked before because Doyoung and Taeyong were extremely talented at what they did. You always found yourself fighting for the position to be their taste tester against Donghyuck and Jungwoo whenever they came up with something new. There wasn’t any friendly small talk as you prepared his order, in fact whenever you caught a glimpse of the customer, his eyes were continuously roaming around the building. You were particularly proud of the interior design of the place. Taeyong had spent endless hours painting designs on the walls while you and Doyoung chose the furniture you thought would suit it the best. Your favorite part in particular was the copper wire wall grid that was used to display the instant pictures of the staff posing goofily and the regulars. Judging from the way the customer’s eyes locked in on the pictures on the wall, he did too.

“Thanks for coming! Hope to see you again!” You chimed while you placed the money in the register. It was unlikely to happen, you knew, because the man wasn’t one that you recognized. Dream Puffs often had customers that stopped by because they needed a pick-me-up during their travels. The only response you received was the incline of his head and a gorgeous smile before he turned to leave. You watched his back as he strutted away, your head tilted to the side slightly. 

“Love at first sight?” Yongqin teased in a loud voice from your right and if you had been close enough, you would have thrown your cloth at him. 

“Shut up Yongqin!”

*

“You will not believe what I just heard!” Yongqin exclaimed from somewhere behind you. It was half past six in the morning and you and the boys were setting up, Taeyong had just taken out a fresh batch of pastries while Doyoung was bent over the glass display case for the food, organizing the goods meticulously and adding glacé cherries to the cupcakes. You hummed in question as you snatched a croissant that you knew would be deliciously buttery, flaky and soft when you took a bite of it. “The empty store! You’ll never guess what it’s going to be!” 

“A hardware store?” Doyoung guessed uninterestedly as he adjusted a cupcake. 

“No!” You watched, mid-bite, as Yongqin walked by you and stood so that he was in clear view of the three of you. “A café!” Both the statement and the hot interior of the croissant had your jaw dropping. 

“What?!” You exclaimed while you set your pastry on the flour covered counter, just beside the baking tray full of equally measured, unbaked cookies. 

“Yeah,” he said, dragging out the vowels as he slowly bopped his head, “I know right. Dream Puffs might actually have some competition now.”

“Out of all places to set up a café.” Taeyong mumbled, his brows furrowed, flitting over to the other side of the room to grab his bottle of strawberry flavored water. 

“Where did you get this information from?” Doyoung asked after he straightened himself out, crossing his arms over his chest.

Yongqin, who was watching Taeyong gulp down his beverage, mindlessly said, “Kun.” You pressed him for more information, recalling how shifty the said florist had been the other day. Yongqin tore his eyes away from Taeyong. “I don’t really know how he knew, he just let it slip yesterday.” He grabbed a glacé cherry and popped it into his mouth. “We should totally put on some disguises and scope the place out when it opens!” 

Taeyong snorted. “As if you work here.” 

“Well we don’t want you guys going out of business now, do we?” Yongqin reasoned as he ran his fingers through his pink streaked blond hair. “So, are you in?” 

“Of course.” You said, picking up your croissant and taking a big bite of it.

The plan was discussed in pieces throughout the day while the three of you manned the counter. Yongqin stood to the side, switching from chatting to your customers animatedly as they waited for their orders and telling the three of you how he needed a temporary employee because Chenle was going on vacation in a few weeks from June until August. He stayed until he had to return to his own store since his younger sister had to go for her break. As the day dragged by, you insisted that Doyoung and Taeyong to go home early - they deserved it for all the work that they do - while you stayed behind to some additional cleaning before you locked up for the evening. Not bothered to cook dinner once you were home, you called for some takeout as you toed off your shoes. While you waited for the delivery driver to call you to let you know they were downstairs, you flopped onto your couch and mindlessly scrolled through your phone. When the call came, you were quick to grab your cash and dash out your door. 

With a warm box of pizza in your hands, mini boxes of the sides you selected on top of it, you turned to make you way back up when a voice called out for you to hold open the door for them. You fulfilled their request by swinging your leg and waited impatiently for the weight to be lifted off of your foot so that you could run off and eat. 

“Thank you! Oh,” the stranger said when you managed to flash them a quick smile, “hey it’s you!”

Internally, you groaned. What would it take for you to be able to eat your dinner? It was going to get cold. Plus you ordered their fudge brownie that came with ice-cream. Nevertheless you plastered on a smile while turning your head to the side that the stranger decided to occupy and found yourself looking at the tall and handsome man from a few days ago. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, not knowing what else to say as you followed him into the elevator and also stunned by the fact that he could potentially have lived here all this time somehow without you ever seeing him. Although, maybe he was visiting a friend? “Are you the one who moved in across the hall?” You asked curiously after eyeing him press the button to your floor.

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, raising both his arms. Then, dropping them back down to his sides and stuffing them into his jacket pockets, he said, “my name’s Wong Yukhei.”

“Y/n. I’d shake your hand but, y’know.” You lifted the boxes of food for emphasis and he nodded understandingly. Yukhei got a few words in about the town, how cute he found it and how friendly the people were, before the ding! of the elevator finally signaled the end of your short journey to your floor. Yukhei allowed you to exit before him.

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you, neighbor.” Yukhei said, grinning cheekily as the two of you stood outside your respective doors, facing one another. 

After replying with sentiments that mirrored his, you finally entered your apartment and all but sprinted to your coach and dug in. Your new neighbor seemed nice enough. You wondered what brought him over to this town–there was nothing particularly attractive about it except for the people that lived there, not that anyone living outside of the town would know that or anything. It was when you were halfway through your third slice that something dawned on you. 

*

“I know who it is!” You said loudly, barging into Nakamoto’s Body Art Studio. As expected, Yongqin was getting his forearm tattooed by Yuta. You greeted Jaehyun, who was flicking through a magazine, with a high five as you passed by the reception desk and took one of the wheeled stools and sat on Yongqin’s other side, opposite Yuta. 

“Know who?”

“The new store owner! I met him yesterday.” Yuta finished the line he was working on before looking up at you briefly to acknowledge your presence before resuming his work. Yongqin was the one who prompted you to continue. “His name is Wong Yukhei. He was the really tall one from the other day.”

“The one you fell in love with?” Your friend teased. You mimicked his words, voice as high as possible, while making a face at him before groaning dramatically, thinking about how amiable Yukhei had been in the few minutes that you were together. 

“Guys, he ordered all of the food we had on display.” You chewed on your bottom lip. Maybe his friendly behavior was an act, he did know that you work at Dream Puffs after all–you literally co-owned the place. “You don’t think he’s going to steal everything the guys make do you?” Both of your friends scrunched their faces which only served to make you groan loudly again. 

“That’s rough buddy.” Jaehyun said from his position on the right side of the room, the sound of him flicking his page loud and clear when Yuta removed the tattoo gun from Yongqin’s arm. 

“What’s rough?” Jungwoo asked confusedly, his voice sounding further than usual, probably just having stepped out of the separate room that he used to pierce their clients. 

*

You stood behind the register, watching with narrowed eyes as Yukhei and some unfamiliar people filed into the building directly across from yours, each carrying supplies. It had been days and days of you heatedly watching their every move as they worked on their space. While they were all having the time of their lives interior decorating, you were practically tearing your hair out at the thought of having competition that was a mere twenty steps away from Dream Puffs. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Doyoung and Taeyong’s ability to bake or your barista skills and it wasn’t as if you were the only café in the area or anything - there was another one just on the other side of town - but he really couldn’t have set up literally any other kind of store?

What was even more infuriating was that Yukhei was acting really chummy with you and the others outside of your working hours. It even became a regular thing for Yukhei to wait for your shift to finish so that the two of you could walk back to your apartment complex together. Admittedly, even though you enjoyed your own company, it was kind of nice having someone to talk to on the way home. 

“You’ll scare away the customers if you keep making that face.” Taeil said, his eyes never wavering from the page that he was reading. It was a new book for the book club that he created recently, said it would bring in more customers. He shared a table with Jeno, who was reading the same book, and Mark, who was playing Luigi’s Mansion on his Nintendo Switch.

You sniffed, tilting your head to the side. “I’m not making a face.”

“Dude, you so are!” Mark, who was sitting across from Taeil, said after taking a sip of his banana milk. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Jeno told you nicely, “of course you’d be making a face, I mean, that guy is gonna make a store that could potentially out-business you.” 

You threw your hands at his direction as if to say exactly! with wide eyes. “We’re practically enemies!” 

“Enemies,” Taeyong repeatedly lowly from beside you, amusement ringing in his voice. “As if.”

You gaped after throwing him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean.” Before your friend could reply, your attention was redirected elsewhere with the call of your name. Taeyong bumped your hip and scurried off. You turned to face none other than the man himself. “Yukhei,” you smiled, “the usual?”

“Please. Oh and could I also get...” He listed five other drinks and then picked out some food to bring along with him. As you prepared his order, the two of you talked about your plans over the weekend and even though you were aching with the need to ask about his shop, you said nothing. 

“He’s the enemy.” You whispered firmly to yourself. “Do not get distracted by his cute smile!”

“Cute smile?” Yongqin startled you by popping up from behind you. “Is this about Yukhei?” He asked loudly, tone full of mischief, as he nudged your side.

“Who else would it be about?” Taeil countered. 

Mark and Jeno chuckled while you raised your eyes to the ceiling, briefly reconsidering your choice in friends. Maybe you should stop giving them free drinks. Your gaze flickered to what would be Yukhei’s shop and found him sipping on his drink as he leaned on the glass, chatting to someone. As though he felt your eyes on him, he did a double take and beamed at you. 

“He’s the enemy.” You whispered to yourself once again, hoping that you would actually begin believing it soon, as you raised your hand to wave at him–he kept smiling at you until the person next to him clapped his shoulder and you would have loved to know what he said because Yukhei all but whipped his head towards him, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.  

*

It had been almost a month since Yukhei had moved into town and he still hadn’t opened up his shop. That was something that you kept in the back of your mind, even as he continued to be cordial with you and the others. Although you kept referring him as ‘the enemy’ to yourself, at this point he was your friend. There was no point in denying it or anything, considering that somehow your relationship with him progressed from only speaking to one another when he ordered stuff from Dream Puffs and when the two of you walked home together, to actually hanging out. You guys had actually agreed to start watching movies together every Saturday night and regularly went over to each other’s apartment to keep each other company. 

In fact it was actually Saturday and instead of receiving a text from Yukhei about what food he should bring over with him, it was one asking you to meet in front of Rainbow V. After texting him an affirmative, you changed out of your pyjamas and headed out. 

The nearer you got to Rainbow V, the more you could make out the distinct figure of Yukhei; he was leaning against the door of his shop, his left foot on top of it as he scrolled through his phone. You allowed yourself to stare at him for a little bit longer before taking bigger steps towards him. 

“Hey,” you greeted once you were close enough, “what’s up?” 

Yukhei returned your greeting, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he stepped forward to mirror you before raising his hand. When you gave him the high-five you assumed he was waiting for, he clicked his tongue and wrapped his large hand over yours. Startled, you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Wrong,” he grinned, a playful gleam in his eye, “you forgot our handshake already? Y/n, you wound me.” He placed his other hand on top of his chest, where his heart was, dramatically as he said the last part. 

“I didn’t forget,” you countered. “You got it wrong, dummy, it starts with a fist bump.”

Yukhei huffed, the grin he wore turning into something much softer. “You’re right.” 

Instead of releasing your hand like you thought he would now that it was clarified, he continued holding onto it and even lowered it slightly as if he wanted a better look. He turned it this way and that way slowly while staring like he was inspecting it. As he did that, your eyes flitted over to the beanie that covered his forehead (you liked how it looked on him, it looked really cute on him,) before travelling down to the rest of his face; there was a spark of something in his eyes, his head at an angle, as he stared at your hand in his. It was the look someone got when they found something they had been missing for a long while.

You cleared your throat, warmth creeping up your neck all the way to your cheeks. “Is there something you want to show me?”

“Yup!” 

And with that he interlocked your fingers, fished what sounded like a bunch of keys from his pockets and unlocked the door. He made quick work of turning on the lights, allowing you to be greeted by the sight of minimal style interior. There were large potted plants by the door, a long island with seating as well as booth tables. String lights were hung all around the cream colored wall, providing additional lighting to the dim lights. Yukhei lead you around the space, excitedly telling you about the work that had gone into it and how he had difficulty choosing what kind of style he wanted. 

“It looks amazing,” you complimented as he gestured for you to take a seat closest to where the register was. “It’s going to be a great café, I can tell.”

“Thanks,” he smiled shyly, “that really means”-he paused, tilting his head to one side with confusion written all over his face-“did you just say café?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “looks like Dream Puffs is going to have some serious competition now.”

Yukhei released a hearty laughed. “Y/n, I don’t know where you got that information but this isn’t a café.” Your jaw almost dropped in shock and you stumbled with your words before settling for a ‘huh’. “Yeah, dum-dum, it’s going to be a boba shop.”

“Boba. . .shop.” You echoed slowly. 

Yukhei nodded, “yeah.” 

Later on the stroll home, after the two of you spent an hour or two in his shop with him telling you what kind of flavors he planned to have on the menu and pulling some suggestions from yourself (“what about toffee popcorn with, I don’t know, maybe whipped cream and actual popcorn at the top?”), he asked who told you that he’d be opening up a café to which you grumbled ‘Yongqin’, he let out a heart laugh again. You could feel the tremors that went through his body as he laughed since you were tucked warmly under his arm and whether or not it was because his laughter was contagious or how weirdly intimate the situation felt - it was the way he took of his beanie and adjusted it on your head, insisting that you looked cold (you were) and the way the two of you were practically glued to each other’s side - but you huffed out a laugh before smiling to yourself and leaned into him more.

“Hey, y/n,” Yukhei called once you unlocked your door. You turned to face him and found him aiming his phone straight at you. “Smile.” Instead of smiling, you made a silly face at him and jogged inside your apartment after the tell-tale sound his phone made that indicated that he snapped a picture of you. 

It was only when you were taking off your jacket and shoes that you realized that he hadn’t asked for his beanie back. Although you knew that you could easily make the short trip to him across the hall, you decided that you would give it back the next time he was at your place.

* 

“A little birdie told me that you and Yukhei went on a date last night.” Yuta said the following morning, barging into your small office and then plopped himself on the couch that was placed near your work desk. 

You were quick to shoot his statement down with, “your ‘little birdie’ is wrong.” After typing a quick ‘Kind Regards’ along with your name and position at the end of your email, you swiveled your chair around so that you could face your friend. He was scrolling through Instagram, double tapping every few seconds. “Who was it that told you that, anyway?”

“I don’t snitch on my sources.”

“I’ll give you twenty-five percent off whenever you buy coffee for a week.”

“Sold,” he said while he typed something quickly on his phone before lowering it so that he could flip himself over on his stomach and look up at you through his lashes. “It was Taeil. He fell asleep in his office and when he was locking up he said he saw you two mooning at each other alone in Yukhei’s shop.”

“We were not mooning at each other,” you sniffed, skimming your hands down your thighs. “What? We weren’t!” You emphasized when he gave you an unimpressed look.

Just as Yuta was about to reply, probably something sarcastic by how he arched his brow, his phone chimed to signal a text. He tutted at you before re-arranging himself so that he could reply with ease. You watched as his eyes read the message quickly before the corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he huffed out a laugh, typing furiously. While a large part of you was curious as to what could have elicited that reaction, you chose to turn back to your computer screen and browse through your email inbox. 

“If you aren’t dating him,” Yuta said after a few minutes of silence that involved him typing away while you binned some junk mail, “then what’s this all about?” From the corner of your eye, you saw him lift his phone towards you so that you could read whatever was on his screen. Turning, your eyes skimmed through his text, your eyebrows all but crawling to your hairline. He allowed you to grab the phone from his hand so that you could zoom in on the picture that followed the texts from Mark–his words were all in capital letters followed by several exclamation points. You opened your mouth to say, well, literally anything but nothing came out so you snapped it shut. Wordlessly, you handed Yuta back his phone before logging out of your computer.

“I have to go,” You said lowly, dazed, as you stood up. “I have to- will you tell the guys I’ll be back soon?” Yuta gave you an affirmative and then you were off, practically sprinting towards the door. 

On the way back to your apartment complex, your thoughts were full of Yukhei. You could admit that you had a big crush on him. It was difficult not to, you thought, what with how sweet and thoughtful he was. He was also funny and knew how to brighten up the room. But did that mean you wanted to date him? You weren’t sure although you knew that you certainly wouldn’t mind going on a date with him to find out.

Soon enough, you found yourself in front of his door. You stared at it for a long time, your heart racing, before you found enough courage to rap your knuckles against it. There was no answer. You tried an additional two times before you decided to leave it be, that you could talk to him later after your shift because he would probably be by the door, waiting for you with that big smile of his. You nodded to yourself and turned to walk away.

“Y/n?” His groggy voice came when you had taken three steps away from his door. “What’s up? Are you okay?” You turned on your heel (he looked adorable with his bedhead) and nodded stiffly, your heartbeat picking up speed again. “Want to come in?” He invited, opening his door wider.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?” He asked, locking his door after you shuffled in. 

“Yeah but there was something I needed to talk to you about.”

Yukhei took a seat beside you on the couch and you tried not to concentrate on his knee that leaned against yours or how he automatically rested his arm on the back of the couch so that you were practically laying on it. 

“Texting me wouldn’t have done, no?” He teased. 

You shot a quick glance at him, took in his cute little smile and then stared pointedly ahead at his carpeted floor. “I didn’t really think about that at the moment.” You replied, your shoulders lifting to your earlobes. The only thing you had thought about was how you wanted to see him when you confronted him about what Yuta had shown you. Yukhei prompted you to tell him the reason for your visit. “Well, um, earlier Yuta showed me a text from Mark and I’m- we’re- your phone wallpaper?” The arm beneath your shoulders was gone in an instant and Yukhei jolted to his feet. “So it’s true?” You asked, peeking at him through your lashes. His expression was one of horror, arms splayed at his sides as if prepared to explain himself.

“Please don’t be mad! Taeil took the picture last night because apparently he saw us? I don’t know, Mark told me so I asked him to send me the picture and, well, I thought it was cute you know?” You did know. Taeil had managed to snap a shot of you two in front of Rainbow V - didn’t Yuta say that he only saw the two of you in the shop? - and it was when Yukhei had been laughing with you under his arm, a smile resting on your face. “I know I probably should have asked you, I don’t know what I didn’t. I can change it now if you want? Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assured, looking him in the eye so he knew that you meant it. He visibly relaxed, the tension bleeding out of him at your words. Once he stopped looking so panicked, he looked at you with wide eyes before darting them towards the floor. It seemed the roles were reversed this time, what with him avoiding your gaze while you continued staring at him. He raised a hand to cover his eyes while the other went to hug itself around his waist. “Hey Yukhei,” he still refused to look at you, “would you maybe want to go on a date with me?”

That immediately gained his attention. “What?” His voice was soft, coated in disbelief. “Are you serious?” After you insisted that you were, never once breaking eye contact with him, a large smile blossomed on his face and he let out a loud whoop, punching the air in triumph. As if remembering that you were there, he dropped his arm, although the smile remained on his face. “Apparently there’s a boba place opening tomorrow, right in front of Dream Puffs, what do you say we try it out?”

“I’d love to but I’m worried about seating.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on good terms with the owner.” Yukhei winked. The two of you dissolved into a fit of laughter shortly after.

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” you said while you stood up from the couch once both of you sobered. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course!” Pleased smiles were plastered on both of your faces even as he walked you to the door. 

*

You had barely stepped foot into Dream Puffs before Yongqin wrapped an arm around you and lead you to a table where Kun, Yuta and Taeil were seated, two vacant seats in between Kun and Yuta. Taeil let out a small titter, a smile that was too wide etched on his face as you and Yongqin sat down. 

“Tell us everything!” Yongqin exclaimed, “spare no detail!”

“I will but first,” you said as you turned to face him. “You brat! You knew that he wasn’t opening up a café, didn’t you? You totally tricked me!” 

There was no hint of guilt from him, just a shit-eating grin that reached from ear to ear. “Maybe so. Now go on, tell us!” You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance but couldn’t fight off the smile that gradually grew wider and wider on your face as you recounted the recent events that transpired between you and Yukhei.

#ummmmmmm so this probably wasnt what u had in mind when u said enemies to lovers?????? #honestly idek what this is myself rip #i think i might have to upload a completely different one :// #i didnt want it to be yk the usual things like being against each other in school etcetc #i guess enemies to lovers but they're assassins would have been good????? #why did i only think of that now rip oh geez #regardless of the fact that i completely botched ur request-i hope u enjoyed reading it at least???????? #also update on my problems on the app: its still doing that thing i mentioned while editing so i think from here on out i might have to use #my laptop when i work on my fics ://////// #im working on the werewolf!lucas fic now so hopefully i have it up by tonight !!! #anyway here come the tags: #wayv #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv fluff #wayv lucas #nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct lucas #nct fluff #super m #super m lucas #wong yukhei

[scarasimplysimping]

Ships

Ranpo Edogawa

Bungou stray dogs

☆There was one case this precious cinnamon roll couldn't solve.

☆You. It was you. Why you ALWAYS made his heart pound when you give him snacks (lmao obviously) or why he feels so giddy when you smile at him or why he feels like he just one some kind of spelling bee when he impresses you.

☆He was no fool, of course. He knew he liked you. He was just in denial because he wasn't sure if you liked him.

☆It bothered him the most when you marvel at his intelligence and then he goes all 'yeah she definitely likes me' and then a few hours later you're actively flirting with Dazai and making suicide plans together.

☆Sometimes he even questioned if you actually liked guys after seeing you hold hands with Yosano.

☆He hated being inlove. And being inlove with you wasn't making it easier.

☆Perhaps being flirty was just your personality and you treated him no sweeter than how you treated the others.

☆Maybe He just needed some alone time with you to figure things out.

☆All of these conclusions were running rampant in his head one day at the ADA until Fukuzawa entered the room.

☆"A small gang of ability users have been causing havoc on Yokohama's docks and won't let any of the ships set sail. They're abilities don't seem dangerous but just to be sure I want all of you to check it out since we have our hands free for the rest of the day" Fukuzawa spoke.

☆Most of you lazily stood up from your seats and obliged. Only you, Dazai and Ranpo were left in the room. Both of you were going to leave as well.

☆until Ranpo spoke up in a slightly unintentionally high pitched voice.

☆"I.. I can't go. My abilities aren't even fit for fighting." He said nervously and then continued. "Annnd... I want (Name) to stay here as well. We have some important reports and uhh... important things to attend to."

☆Everyone knew him enough to come to the conclusion that he was just slacking off... but then why did you need to be with him?

☆The cogs slowly started turning in Dazai's brain as he figured out what the ADA's great detective was trying to do.

☆Slyly, Dazai placed an arm around your shoulder. "But (Name) and I are gonna have some quality time together in this mission." He smirked and looked at Ranpo tauntingly.

☆Ranpo sighed and with a slight pout, gave a quiet "Okay. Some other time maybe." as he sat back in his chair in defeat.

☆Both you and Dazai arched your eyebrows. Ranpo was never one to give up this easily.

☆Dazai took his hand off of you suddenly feeling guilty for cock-blocking(can i use that word?)Ranpo.

"On second thought, I don't need (Name) anyways.They can stay here with you while you confess to them." Dazai said and abruptly left the office, slamming the door shut and possibly even locking Ranpo and yourself in.

☆The room was quiet and both of you were red, Ranpo from embarrassment and you from well... Ranpo.

☆God knows how much you loved this boy and would jump out the window if he told you so. (simp)

☆"C...Confess?" You stammered out. Did he like you? Was that what this was all about? Or... maybe he was going to tell you how much he hated you or how he found you annoying or how he thought you were a dumbass for always asking him for help on cases.

☆You're overthinking was cut short when he called your attention.

☆"Don't listen to Dazai. He's just messing with you, (Name)." He managed to blurt out. "So the reports..."

☆"The reports." You repeated awkwardly. You absolute God-forsaken dumbass.

☆Now, Ranpo hadn't thought this far into his alone time with you plan and handed you a random folder from his desk on a whim. "I need you to read this and tell me what you think about it." He said confidently.

☆You sat next to him and opened the folder.

☆only to find that it was filled with candid pictures of you, facts about you which all seemed to be hand-written by Ranpo and had little drawings of hearts at the sides.

☆It was unbelievably quiet as you stared at him, and he stared at the folder, not wanting to meet your gaze. A blush creeping at both of your faces.

☆Ranpo was absolutely mortified. His mind felt like it was going to short circuit as he observed all the small 'Ranpo x (Name)' he had childishly written the other day. Why would He leave this folder in plain sight? That wasn't like him.He could have sworn he hid this in his safe. Someone else definitely left this here on purpose. (*cough* dazai *cough*)

☆He felt as if the quiet was going to last forever until you spoke up. "I... I think its lovely."

☆"You do?" He asked, surprised. "I mean of course you do... I made it."

☆"Why?" You questioned, not wanting to jump to conclusions even though it was right there in front of you.

☆It took Ranpo all the pride he had gained over the years of being Japan's best detective (self-proclaimed) to say the next few words. "I love you."

☆Yet another silence made it's way between the two of you

☆Ranpo, fearing that this quiet was your way of rejecting him, was contemplating on taking that confession back and ruling it as a joke. (It's just a prank, bro)

☆Until you lept into his arms and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I love you too." You smiled.

☆Ranpo thought for a moment, happy that you reciprocated his feelings but no way was he having that half-assed sorry excuse of a kiss.

☆You yelped as he pulled you back and wrapped his arms around you. "Can I... kiss you? Properly?"

☆You chuckle and nod and just like that, you two were making out.

☆

☆

☆

☆you both pull away to catch your breath. "We should get going and help the others with the ability users on the dock." You say.

☆"No need. They already let one ship sail." He smirks and pulls you back into a hug.

☆"Huh which one?" You ask with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

☆"Ours."

A/N: Yea i get it. Cheesy. But i like em fluff

#edogawa ranpo #bsd ranpo #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo manga #ranpo x reader #bsd fluff

[galahadwilder]

buggachat laptop fic: Ladybug keeps setting patrol schedules to pair up Multimouse and Aspik, having told Chat Noir it's because she ships Multimouse/Aspik. Chat Noir does not know what to think of this. Adrien isn't supposed to know Multimouse is Marinette; Marinette isn't supposed to know Aspik is Adrien. But there's still the nagging similarities between Marinette (when she doesn't think Adrien's listening) and Ladybug, and he only gave Multimouse his ring bc he KNEW she was Ladybug lying...

(2/3) Further to my Aspikmouse request for the buggachat laptop fund: substituting Adrien wielding any Miraculous but Cat, Snake, or Ladybug works too, as long as Ladybug knows it’s Adrien. As does substituting Marinette wielding any Miraculous but Ladybug, Rat, or Cat, as long as Chat Noir knows it’s Marinette. (Come to think of it, Snake!Marinette/Rat!Adrien could be all kinds of amusing…)

(3/3, two sentence prompts) (sometime after Desperada) “Why would I offer him a different Miraculous, Chat? Did I not put him through enough hell the first time?”

Unwise

Chapter 1: In Which Chat is Slightly Less Helpful Than He Thinks He Is

Fic written to help fund @buggachat‘s laptop repairs. Original idea from @sweetmeatdale.

*

Ever since Max got Akumatized again, patrol has been a quiet hell. Chat is fairly certain he knows why: based on comments she made during the Gamer fight, it seems like being Ladybug and training to be the new Guardian (and whatever else she has going on in her civilian life—she may not be Marinette, but given how similar they are he’s willing to bet she’s just as busy as a civilian) has left her with no time to do any of the things that calm her. Apparently Fu outright told her that her training was complete way earlier than she expected, meaning she has a mantle of responsibility she isn’t ready for but none of the choice that goes with it. His Lady is quietly collapsing, and try as she might to hide it, he can tell. The bags under her eyes are extending past the bottom of her mask, and her shoulders are almost constantly up by her ears.

It’s only been a week, and Chat realizes that if this keeps going on, Ladybug is going to burn out. Which means he has to do something. Her responsibility is Paris; his responsibility is her.

She misses a step, on a rooftop halfway through patrol, stumbles into his arms—he can’t help noticing how familiar it feels. “Okay,” he says, quietly. “We’re stopping here for tonight.”

Ladybug shakes her head. “I can keep going,” she mumbles, her eyes closed.

Chat cradles her cheek in his palm, and it’s a testament to how exhausted she is that she melts into it without even a token protest. “You keep telling me that ‘can’ doesn’t mean ‘have to,’” he says, trying to control his voice as she snuggles into him. “You need rest, Bug.”

“Hypocrite,” she mumbles, lazily smacking his side.

“Expendable hypocrite,” he retorts.

She opens her mouth to protest, but he sits down, yanking her into his lap before she has time to speak. She squeaks instead.

“Kitty purrs time,” he says, pressing her against his chest as he begins to rumble.

She gasps, quietly, snuggling in closer, and his purr interrupts for a moment as he swallows, trying to control his breathing, his blush.

They sit like that for a few minutes, Ladybug sinking into his arms, before Chat decides she’s calm enough to talk things through. “I think,” he says, “that we need to start bringing on some teammates. Full-time.”

Ladybug stiffens. “Chaton,” she whispers, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “Bugaboo, we can’t keep doing this by ourselves,” he says. “How long has it been since you’ve slept a full night?”

She looks away instead of answering.

He begins to press his palms into the small of her back, working out the kinks in her muscles. “We need help,” he says, carefully avoiding the word ‘you’—if she thinks she’s the only one hurting, he knows she’ll accept that and keep shouldering the burden until it breaks her. The only way he can convince her is if she thinks he needs it too. “I know Rena would jump at the chance, and Carapace seems like he would do anything if she asked.”

“I don’t want to put this on them,” she grumbles. “This is our job. They have lives outside of—”

Chat snorts. “Your job is to protect Paris,” he says. “My job is to look after a hyperactive genius who thinks she can’t go to bed until she’s personally solved every problem in the city.” He squeezes her protectively, not missing the way she whimpers in his arms. “If that means I have to meow annoyingly at you until you agree to start sharing the burden…”

“Chaton, I’m fi—“

“MEOOOOOOOWWWWWW!” he screeches into her ear.

She shrieks, trying to pull away, but he’s holding her too firmly. “Dammit, Chat!” she cries. “We can’t just have the other Miraculi out!” She shudders. “What if Hawkmoth ambushes one of them as a civilian?”

“What if you’re so sleep-deprived you can’t figure out how to use your Lucky Charm?” Chat rebuts. “Or I’m too slow and you get hit by something I can’t block?”

“Chaton—”

“Meeeeoooowwwww!” he interrupts, then takes a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this, but… he has to go for her weak spot. He knows how painful this is to her—he knows about the night terrors she keeps having, the reason she was so wrecked once Gamer got taken down, but if it keeps her alive and sane he will do whatever it takes. “My Lady,” he says, “if we don’t start bringing on a team I am going to die again.”

She stiffens in his arms. “Don’t you dare,” she hisses.

“It’s not like I have a choice!” he snaps. “You can’t—”

She scrambles out of his arms, shingles cracking beneath the force of her footfalls, and jabs him in the chest with her finger. “Don’t act like you can’t do this without me too, Mister Bug!”

He snatches her wrist. “Not as well as you can, and I think Reflekdoll proved that!” he growls. Then he sighs. “Please, My Lady,” he says. “If you won’t do it for yourself… at least do it for me.”

She blinks up at him. “Chaton?” she whispers.

“I haven’t slept right in months,” he says. Not since Desperada, but she doesn’t want to know that part. “I keep seeing us… losing. You dead and broken and… and I’m by myself, and there’s nothing I can do to save you…” He’s shared more than he intended to, and his voice breaks as his chest squeezes tight. “Please,” he whispers. “At least Carapace. I can’t keep protecting you on my own.”

That got… uncomfortably truthful. He hadn’t meant to share that—hell, he hadn’t even known he was feeling like that. But it’s obvious now, after his mouth ran away with him, that he’s as overwhelmed as she is. He’s been putting on a good show for his Instagram, but… when’s the last time he’s slept a full night?

Ladybug stares at him, her lip quivering, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to snap at him again. But then she sets her jaw. “I’m not bringing Queen Bee back,” she says. “I don’t trust her.”

The levee in Chat’s heart breaks, and his whole body is flooded with emotion at once. Instantly, his head is in her lap, pressed up against her stomach. “Thank you,” he gasps. “Thank you thank you thank you.” He’s sobbing into her lap, and she strokes his head, scratching just behind his ears in the way he loves so much; bliss shoots down from his scalp through his spine as he purrs urgently against her.

“Rena and Carapace, obviously,” she says.

He squirms, snuggling deeper into her arms. “Viperion seems competent,” he mumbles. “Thoughts on Monkey?”

“Hmm…” Ladybug says, and he can hear the mirth returning to her voice for the first time since he backed off the platform. “Childish and irresponsible. Keep him temp, I think.”

“Okay.” Chat nods. “I like Pegase, though.”

Ladybug nods. “Yeah, he’s pretty good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about bringing Ryuko back too—she did pretty well against Gozen.”

“Agreed,” Chat says. Then the side of his mouth quirks down. This is probably not the best time to bring this up, not when she’s actually agreeing with him and this might cause her to reconsider, but… it’s kind of important. The rules are set for a reason. “Wait,” he says, “I know who Pegase and Ryuko are.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, so?”

It’s a bit petulant of him to ask, but… well, Marinette is so impressive that she’s the only person he’s ever seriously considered might be Ladybug, and if he hadn’t seen them both together on two separate occasions he’d still be pretty suspicious. “I thought you weren’t supposed to bring back wielders whose names I know?”

Ladybug launches to her feet, sending him sprawling out of her lap—then she leans down and locks eyes with him, and crushes his bell in her fingers. “No,” she spits, yanking him forward into a suspiciously exact replica of Marinette’s famous Penance Stare. “I am not putting her back in the field.”

He’s not sure what to say. He knows she doesn’t want Multimouse back but he doesn’t know why—he has suspicions, but there’s no way, right? He’s been so careful with this whole conversation, and now Adrien Brain, which is so obsessed with rules and consistency, has just launched his foot through the ground into an occupied fire ant nest. His lungs shudder at the fire in her eyes, unable to even speak.

(He’s disappointed in his Chat Noir Brain as well, for being so excited at the incongruity of her reaction. Even after everything, she’s still oddly vehement about not using Multimouse.)

He wants to tell her that’s not what he meant, that he’s worried about bringing Ryuko and Pegase back but—something about her refusal to bring Marinette back rubs him the wrong way.

“Why?” he croaks, finally. His bell clonks a little bit in her hand instead of jingling. “You know she’s the best temp we’ve ever had—she did both of our jobs!”

Ladybug’s eyelid twitches, and he realizes he’s crossed a line he didn’t know about. There’s something between her and Marinette; something he’s not aware of. The two girls have had some kind of relationship since before Evillustrator…

Ladybug trusts Marinette so much and has never specified the gender of the person she likes. And nobody seems to know who Marinette has a crush on. Is she… trying to protect her girlfriend?

She stares for a second, then collapses next to him and sighs. “Maybe I should bring her back,” she grumbles.

“What? No!” Chat says, gripping at her wrist. “If you don’t want her back—”

“It’s not a want thing,” Ladybug says. “I’m just… not sure she can.”

Chat bristles. “What?” he cries. Maybe… not girlfriend? Does she… not like Marinette? Is that it? “My Lady, I love you, but I will not allow you to besmirch the abilities of my precious mouse.”

Ladybug opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a weird gagging noise as her face turns bright red. “You have… that much faith in her?” she croaks.

Chat raises an eyebrow. “My Lady,” he says, “I only gave her my ring because I thought she was you.”

Ladybug chokes.

Chat can’t tell if she’s flattered or angry. “I remember you were friends,” he says. “Did something… happen between you two?”

Ladybug closes her eyes, licks her lips. “Have you ever worn two Miraculi at once?” she murmurs. “It… does things to your body.” She leans back against the shingles. “I think I asked more of her than I ever should have.”

“Oh,” Chat says. “No, I—no, I haven’t.” He has, actually; he’s wondered why he felt so tired as Aspik. He thought it was just being awake for three months, but Viperion never seemed to falter. “Is she okay?” He doesn’t think Marinette’s been any worse, physically—but then, she’s been running so ragged lately, how can he tell?

Ladybug shrugs. “She’s fine,” she says. “Just needed a good night’s sleep.” She sighs, pressing her chin into her fist. “Wish I could bring Adrien back on,” she mumbles.

Chat’s heart inflates painfully in his chest like a balloon hooked up to an oxygen tank. Even after he failed her so many times, she still wants to bring him back on? “That guy you chose for the snake before Viperion?” he squeaks.

Her head snaps toward him. “You—you knew about that?” she hisses.

Chat snorts. “I saw Agreste with the egg-hood,” he says. “That is not what Viperion looked like.”

Ladybug frowns. “Right,” she says. “Also?” She reaches up, flicks his nose. “Not happy with you for stealing his joke.”

Chat rolls his eyes, jabbing her in the tummy. “He stole mine, My Lady,” he says. “Anyway. Bringing him back on sounds like a great idea!”

She smiles, her cheeks dusting pink, then her face falls. “No,” she says. “No way.”

Chat’s chest squeezes. Oh, good, she hates him. “Why?” he says. “I mean, he may not have been the right snake, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be good for another—”

“Why would I offer him a different Miraculous, Chat?” she snaps. “Did I not put him through enough hell the first time?”

What?

Chat looks at her with confusion. She… doesn’t hate him? She’s been concerned about him?

“He spent three months trying to save me without sleep,” she says. “I’m… pretty sure it broke him.” She clutches at her shoulders. “I trust him, Chaton, but… I can’t put him through that. Not again.”

Oh. Oh god.

“My Lady,” he says. He can see the guilt is killing her—he doesn’t want her to keep beating herself up over something that was his choice. “You… he talked to me about that, actually.”

A look of horror flashes across her face. “What?” she says. “When?”

“Party Crasher,” he says. That’s plausible—Viperion was there, it was Adrien’s house, and there was a period Ladybug was unaccounted for. “He was actually hoping he’d get another shot to help you out.”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks dusting red. “What?” she squeaks.

“I—”

“Okay!” she yelps, shooting to her feet. “Okay okay.” She starts pacing, pressing her palms to her forehead. “I—Okay. So, I—I can bring him back?” She does an excited little bunny hop, and his head leaps. “I can bring him back!”

“You’re—pretty excited,” he says. “You know him?”

She freezes, her foot skittering on the roof. “That’s… complicated?” she says. “Anyway, we should decide who pairs up with who.” She sits back down, folding her knees into her chest. “Multimouse might be more comfortable with a more… experienced wielder?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his stomach begins to flip. “Aspik has more experience than anyone except us,” he says. “You said three months, right?”

“Yep.” Ladybug starts shaking a little. “And… oh, this is—I’m not sure this is a great idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, uh…” Ladybug bites her lip. “She’s, uh, she’s in love with him.”

Chat’s ears—both his human ones and his cat ones—are suddenly crushed under a burning vise, and his lungs are full of cotton candy. “She’s what?” he croaks.

She looks askance at him. “Wait,” she says. “You didn’t know?”

“No?” he says.

Ladybug snorts. “Come on, Chat,” she says. “You’ve been watching that class, right?” She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “I think the only person who doesn’t know about her crush is him.”

“Who did you hear this from?” he asks. “The—the Ladyblogger? She’s not exactly objective when it comes to them—”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Marinette told me herself,” she says. “She just hasn’t been…” She closes her eyes. “Able to say it.”

*

Marinette loves him. She said she loved Chat Noir, and Ladybug said she loved Adrien.

He arrives at the meeting place for his and Multimouse’s first patrol, unspooling the trompo into his hands, and sees Multimouse’s familiar space buns. That’s Marinette right there—Marinette, his best civilian friend aside from Nino. A girl who he would—and has—dropped everything to help. A girl he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the last week, since Ladybug dropped her bomb on him. A girl who, if it hadn’t been for Ladybug, he would absolutely be in love with.

She looks up at him, her eyes widening, and she squeaks. “H-hi!” she yelps. “Are you, um, Queen Bee’s replacement?”

“Yep,” he says, pressing his fists to his hips with an exaggerated gaze off into the distance. “Sapis, at your service.”

“Sapis?” she says. “Wisdom?”

He grins. “Old Latin pun,” he says. “Si sapis, sis apis.” He holds out a hand to shake hers. “If you’re wise? Be a bee.”

She stares at him, and for a moment he’s worried that he’s ruined his third first impression with her—but then she lights up, and starts to laugh.

It’s bright and sunny and it shoots right through his heart, and he realizes: I am completely and utterly screwed.

#miraculous ladybug #buggachat laptop drive #ladybug #chat noir #multimouse #aspik #bee!adrien #gamer 2.0 #my fic #feast #kwami buster #desperada #ladynoir #sapis #original content #asks #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #fluffy hurt/comfort #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ml fic #ml fanfic #snekmouse #aspikmouse

[sohin-ace]

Jotaro - Fanletters

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

You and the infamous Jotaro were pretty close friends. It was really a weird friendship, but it worked out well. You knew each other from elementary school and lived 2 blocks away from each other. Your parents were nicely acquainted as well.

You basically grew up together. Overtime, you learned to manage his edgy nature and embrace his odd gestures of kindness while he learned to tolerate your eccentrism and appreciate your patience towards him.

In any other circumstances, you both would have never even been friends, but fate worked like that sometimes. You wouldn't trade Jotaro for anything in the world and he wouldn't let anyone think of even touching you.

Of course, everybody at school knew about the Jojo-Y/N duo. Everybody wondered how a girl like Y/N managed to get to the stone cold Jojo, and how a guy like Jojo could even bear the presence of the freaky Y/N.

Some were jealous, some were excited, and some were completely indifferent to the chemistry of the two.

And between some jealous fangirls stood some who wanted to take advantage of your accessibility to pass some messages, letters, gifts and many more to the lady-killer Jojo.

It has become a habit for you now, you didn't really mind, even if it could be bothersome sometimes. It was actually pretty entertaining for you. You were the person who received the most love letters at school, with your shoe locker and desk always filled to the brim, too bad they weren't from your fervant admirers, but Jotaro's.

You would usually just take the love letters to him but you always got the same response of denial. Telling you to just throw them away or whatever. But you would always try and convince him to read some of them with you, since 'it could be fun'.

"Yooo Jojo that one is wild look at that! Ewwww! Would you even do that to a woman? No that's straight up EVIL!" you showed him the letter as he was laying on his bed and you were sat at his desk.

"Yare yare daze... I don't want to see it" he huffed, not wanting to deal with yet another cringy lustful confession.

You two would spend some afternoons like this. Sometimes you felt like his personal assistant sorting out his mailbox or something.

One day was very special though.

At the end of one school day, you were assigned in cleaning duty. After cleaning with the other assigned students, you stayed a bit later to empty your shoe locker and desk which took forever. Everyone was gone by now and you were heading back to the classroom to get your bag and finally call it a day.

You got the lockers and opened yours to get your shoes but found one single letter left there.

"Oh? I forgot one... I was sure I got everything... Did someone just put it in? Eh whatever."

You took the letter, put on your shoes and decided you'll pass by Jotaro's house to give him the letter, even if you knew he couldn't care less about it.

"What do you want?" he grunted, but opened the door wide to let you in. The duality of the guy.

"Oh nothing important, just this." you handed the pastel pink enveloppe. "It sat in my locker, alone and afraid." you joked.

Jotaro reluctantly took the letter in his hand. He was ready to just tell you off and shoving it back into your face, but then he noticed what was written on the other side of the enveloppe.

'For Y/N <3'

Jotaro let appear a tiny smirk on his strong features. Things just got interesting for him. If you brought him the letter, that means you didn't notice it was for you.

To your surprise, Jotaro kept the letter and put it aside.

"Huh? You're not going to tell me to throw it away or shove it up my ass or something?" you said a bit baffled.

"No, I'll do it myself." he turned and tossed it on a nearby table.

"HUH ??? SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS???"

You then felt Star Platinum slap you across the back of the head with a nice 'ORA!'

"Owowow!" you cried a little while rubbing your head. Jotaro turned around muttering his iconic "yare yare daze".

Later that evening, when you were already gone home, Jotaro took the liberty to read the letter, wondering what kind of boy could even be interested in you, and see who he had to pick a fight with.

He read the entire thing, and throughout the reading he thought that person was acting pretty mysterious, it was very different from the letters that he recieved from his fangirls.

No, here the letter was filled with many "I'll understand if you don't really roll that way" or "I know it's weird, please don't take this the wrong way". Basically the letter felt very apologetic and the person was obviously self conscious.

At first Jotaro didn't understand why until he read the name of the sender.

'Kaneda Mokou'

He froze. 'Mokou'? So it was a girl. Well at least he wouldn't have to fight anyone so that's good, but also it was interesting.

A girl was into you. Romantically. Or even more. How cute.

He leaned back in his chair, wondering what your reaction would be when he'll break it down to you.

Even if you had a weird sense of humor and overall weird personality, he knew you were very kind, too kind to confront these situations by yourself, especially if you had to reject someone.

He expected the next day greatly.

You went to pick Jotaro up to walk to school with him. You greeted Holly and went on your way with him.

"Aaah it's way too early, be my pillow Jojo." You leaned lazily on his arm without even waiting for his response and he just let you be, too tired to deal with your shenanigans right now.

After a brief moment of silence with both of you peacefully walking, Jotaro broke the ice suddenly.

"Y/N, what about girls?" he blurted. You stood back straight and looked at him like he was the craziest man on earth.

"What the hell is that question, out of nowhere? About your fangirls, you mean?"

"What if a girl liked you?" he looked straight ahead so you couldn't read his eyes, but he seemed serious.

"Aaah...." you paused to think. "I think I'd be flattered, but also sad that she would like me of all girls haha wouldn't that be funny? Not like it will happen anytime soon. Why? Did a guy ask you out again? Was it the letter from yesterday?"

He stopped in his tracks and had a scary glint in his eyes as he took the now opened letter from his pockets and handed it to you.

You hesitated and looked at him with worry.

"You scare me Jojo, what's going on?" he didn't reply. You just took the time to read the letter and realized it was not aimed at Jotaro at all, but at you!

You blushed at the realization and looked at him, but he ushered you to continue reading with his gaze.

Your face reddened the more you read the letter. The tender words of affection, the compliments, the poetic lines and the saddening doubt in the sender's words.

You finished reading and gasped when you saw that it was from your classmate Kaneda Mokou.

"W-waaah!!! Mokou-chan likes me???" You squirmed in embarrassment and stared at Jotaro who seemed amused by the ordeal.

"YOU KNEW IT DIDN'T YOU?? THIS IS WHY YOU KEPT THE LETTER !! YOU SHOULD HAVE SHOVED IT UP YOUR ASS LIKE YOU SAID INSTEAD OF READING IT!"

Jotaro was this close to slapping you to space.

"Just go see her before I kick your ass" the boy growled.

"Hey Jojo, what do you think I should tell her?" you said recovering from your flushed state.

"I don't give a shit it's on you."

"So you wouldn't mind if she becomes my giiiirlfriend~ ?" you said with a teasing tone.

Jotaro flinched and didn't answer for a moment.

"...Do you want to?" he mumbled.

"I don't know, will you be okay with me kissing her and holding her hand and-"

He suddenly grabbed your shoulders, turned you around and shoved you forward.

"Just walk already we're late" he stayed behind you to hide his growing blush.

To be honest Jotaro had this tiny crush on you but even he barely realized it. He was very protective of you and swore he would beat the crap out of any guys that would confess to you, but now that the opponent was a girl he was lost.

Did he have competition? Were you even interested in girls? Or even interested in trying? What should he do?

He thought you would just be a coward and act as if the letter never existed, but now you acted like you were contemplating the offer a lot and that brought a sweat to his brow.

At the end of the day, you decided to talk to Mokou to give her your answer. Jotaro decided to wait for you a few feet away where he couldn't hear what you were saying.

After a few minutes of talking and even some laughing, Jotaro saw you both hug and then separate before bidding each other goodbye. You then joined your tall friend and he didn't say anything but his eyes spoke the question for him.

"Hmmm can you guess? Did I say yes or no?"

"Cut the crap Y/N."

"So impatient! To be honest I wouldn't have minded but..." you blushed a little bit and he raised an eyebrow at you "I think... I need someone that's a bit more like you, Jojo." You added, embarassed.

He showed you a surprised face a this sudden confession. Before he could react any further you continued.

"She wouldn't have put up with me I think. She's very nice and sweet, but she probably would have dumped me after, like, 3 days. Can't blame her haha." you laughed sheepishly.

"Good." Jotaro said turning around. You were confused at his reaction.

"Good? What do you mean 'good'? How is me being dumpable any good? Hey, come back here! ...Jojo! SLOW DOWN YOU'RE TOO FAST! JOJOOOOOO !!!"

He ignored you and speedwalked away from you as you started jogging to catch up to him.

That basically was your relationship with Jotaro Kujo. There was a hint of something more than friendship between you two, but neither of you could put your fingers on it.

"Finally haaah... I caught up to you haaa, you freaking daddy-long-legs" you panted.

He smirked and grabbed you in a headlock.

"Oi, that hurts let me go!" you hit his arm repeatedly, asking for mercy.

"You said you wanted me to be your pillow" he said, dragging you back home.

You only knew that you wanted to be with each other, and no one else.

"Yare yare daze..."

"...That's my catchphrase."

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #jotaro #jotaro kujo #stardust crusaders #writing #x reader #reader insert #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader

[lazylazyhowl]

prehension (of snakes and cherry blossoms)

prehension (noun) – gripping firmly, apprehension by the senses; understanding

["See me." In the dead of night, the line between far shore and near shore, blurs.

They meet, and it's 23 years too late; but they might as well.]

Written with SasuSakuTwitFest Day 2 (Connected) in mind.

AO3 Link

ko-fi

—

Have you heard about building B?

.

A peeling coat of faded yellow paint, partly overtaken by chalk graffiti and moss. The building is a little worn and faded, more obviously ill-maintained compared to the rest of the school.

Classes haven’t been held here for years now, ever since a newer building was founded right next to it.

The hallways are lined with locked doors. There are crisscrossing caution tapes blocking off stairways, and the dust-caked windows are bolted shut, leaving the air thick and musty.

.

A senior died there twenty years ago. They say the ghost of that student still walks those empty corridors even now.

.

.

.

It’s when she’s wandering through the east wing of the second floor that Sakura comes across him in one of the storage rooms.

Rows of stacked desks and chairs are pushed against the wall at the side, and miscellaneous items crowd the cobwebbed shelves. He’s sitting by the window on the opposite side of the entrance, chin in his palm as he stares out the dirty, moon-glazed glass.

He seems to be a senior, but she can’t be sure. The colored tie that’s supposed to set the grades apart is missing from his uniform ensemble.

Sakura’s heart has jumped from sheer surprise upon catching sight of him in the corner; now it begins to speed for an altogether different reason.

He has a sharp profile and endless dark eyes that’s framed by long thick lashes. His equally dark hair contrasts a pale skin, washed colorless by the moonlight, and millions of dust particles float lazily around him.

It’s an otherworldly sight that sends goosebumps up the sides of her arms, and her better instincts tell her to leave immediately and leave him be.

Still, her feet remain glued to the spot by the door as she smooths clammy palms against the knitted sweater she wears over her uniform.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say it was love at first sight. Quite a loaded situation for lightning to be striking, too, and there’s no sense to it at all. She just knows he’s taken her heart without having to lift a finger.

“Annoying…”

She hears him mutter. His voice is deep, so quiet that she might have missed it if not for the silence.

“You there.”

Before Sakura can react, the boy turns his head and looks straight at her.

.

.

If you ever come across the ghost, no matter what you do, never look it in the eyes.

.

She gasps and takes a step back, her puny heart leaping to the hollow of her throat.

When he drops down from his perch, his height unfurls. He’s probably a good head taller than her. With the moon at his back, his eyes don’t glow in the dark or anything, not even the slightest glimmer, but she senses the weight of cold lead from them all the same.

.

You’ll meet a terrible end.

.

“Those eyes are quite something,” he says, and Sakura hastily lowers her gaze away, her stomach twisting into nauseous knots. Oh god, oh god, what has she done? She shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have dallied around.

“I-I’m sorry.”

She sees his shadow on the gritty tiled floor, looming closer, and considers fleeing. But then again, she has a feeling she wouldn’t get very far.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, wringing her shaky fingers together. “For staring. I’m so sorry.”

“Look at me.” He’s still approaching her, and she begins to make out the mud on his shoes, how his uniform is disheveled in that rolled-around-in-in-the-dirt way, opened at the neck to reveal the strong lines of his collarbones.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Lift your face.”

Sakura shakes her head no and squeezes her eyes closed for good measure. She hears him sigh.

“Sasuke.”

Though it was out of nowhere, what startles Sakura more is that his voice has come from right in front of her. She can feel him, well inside her personal space and blocking the moonlight.

Her heart is in overdrive. She blindly takes a step back and almost trips over herself.

“Wh-what?”

“Name?”

She puts a hand to her chest to try and contain the beating there. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Name. Yours.”

It takes her a moment more before she finally gathers her wits. “S-Sakura…”

“Sakura, huh.” He says her name in this slow, considering drawl, and Sakura flushes anew. Can he see her blush? Can he see the effect he has on her? What will he do, knowing this? She tugs at the long sleeves of her sweater and brings them up to hide her face. She never thought it to be the case, but she’s exactly the type to get tricked by men, isn’t she?

“U-um, Sasuke…san?”

“Drop the ‘san.’”

“I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing, annoying.”

“I’m so—okay…” Sakura cringes, her head sinking between her shoulders. She can still feel his gaze on her, feel self-conscious about her large, sweaty forehead, and every strand of hair that’s out of place. Having her eyes closed only makes it worse. “Sasuke…kun…then?”

He makes a noise in his throat, and it’s hard to tell if he’s displeased or not.

“You shouldn’t stay here, Sakura.”

She loves it, Sakura decides, when he uses her name, regardless of context. It sends this warm fluttering down to the pit of her belly.

“…Well, neither should you,” she says from behind her sleeves. “…Sasuke-kun.” She tests and can't help another rush of heat in her cheeks.

Sasuke’s silent for a length before saying, “Fair.”

“Let’s both leave then,” he says, and it takes her a moment to respond.

“Huh?”

“You and I. Let’s leave here together.”

She’s not sure what to say to that, not even sure if she quite understands, but she can’t deny she likes how he’s said it.

She likes it a lot.

“Sakura.” Her skin ripples again. When he says nothing else, she cracks her eyes open to take in the chest of his shirt, missing a few buttons; the hand that’s he’s holding out to her. (There’s dried blood on his knuckles, under his nails.)

“No?” He presses, and she wants to shake her head and tell him it’s not even close to no. It’s scary how much she wants to take that proffered hand, damn the consequences. And because of exactly that she holds back, tucks her hands closer to her chest to restrain herself.

“I…”

She watches with a held breath as his hand looms so near she can make out the callused spots on his palm and smell burnt smoke on top of the rust of blood. His fingers skirt near her chin, her windpipe, but not quite touching.

“Look at me,” he stresses, “when you speak.”

“No…I…”

“Our eyes already met. What are you still holding back for?”

Her breaths grow shallow as her pulses quicken into deafening booms. Sakura can’t find fault with his argument, though she’s not sure if it isn’t just because she’s also tempted for justification to look at him again.

(A part of her hopes, maybe the curse can be reversed by pretending their eyes never met.)

“It’ll be fine,” he says, and she’s so tempted to believe him.

Sakura swallows, her mouth dry. Her eyes dart tentatively up a few times before she finds it in her to look at him. (She has to crane her neck to even meet his gaze.) Her chest tightens as she stares into his eyes, transfixed by their depths. Most of all, his mouth quirks in this little pleased, knowing smirk, and it’s unfair.

“Come with me, Sakura.”

That’s unfair, too.

Sakura doesn’t think she’s afraid of him anymore. Never was, actually. But what he’s offering is unknown to her, and that’s scary. Leave with him to where? For what purpose other than just deserting this forsaken building?

“I don’t know how.” Sakura looks away. She’s aware that she’s not saying no, and the reality is that she no longer cares.

She just wants to be with someone so badly she might have followed anyone else, and Sasuke—Sasuke feels right. Perhaps this back and forth between them has only ever had one ending.

He holds out his hand to her, gesturing for her to just take it. She unclenches her fists.

“It’ll be okay?”

“Aa.”

“Promise me-” Her voice cracks. She screws her eyes shut and sucks in a breath as if all her unshed tears would disappear along with it. “Sasuke-kun. Promise me you’ll be okay, ‘cause I can’t-”

“Promise.”

His gaze is unwavering. Sakura chews at her lower lip. When her fingertips hover over his and hesitate, he only patiently waits, and it gives her that extra shred of confidence. With one last steadying breath, she slides her hand onto his and gasps audibly from the feel of his skin against hers.

His palm is rough like she’s imagined. Large.

So warm.

Human.

It’s been too long—twenty-three years in fact, since she last felt another’s touch, and the sudden swell of emotions is enough to choke her.

Sasuke’s strong fingers encase hers, interlace with hers and the firm grip brings such immense relief that she only knows to burst into tears.

“You’re with me from now on,” he tells her as he wipes at her cheek with his thumb, and she sobs harder. Through the blur of tears, Sakura can see him smile, see his eyes bleed a haunting, spinning red. They’re beautiful. Hypnotic. As if she isn’t already ensnared in his web.

“Okay.” She grips back at his hand just as firmly.

And she thinks, they will be okay after all.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Omake:

The school ground is quiet as they slip out through a broken window on the first floor, and Sakura can’t help but be nervous as she takes her first step past a point that up until just yesterday she wasn’t able to cross.

She’s tried to leave many, many times, only for her legs to freeze and her mind to be overcome with an irrational need to retreat to the very heart of the building. Where she belonged. Alone.

None of that tonight. Sakura passes building D and reaches the quad, drinking in her surrounding in quiet wonder as she trails behind Sasuke.

A lot has changed from the school in her memory, but the general layout is still the same, from where the statue of the town’s founder proudly stands, to the red eaves that hang over the guard office. They overlap with her hazy memories and fills her with a familiarity that eases her nerves.

Building A is still there as well, looking only a little less rundown compared to her building.

(Hers. No matter how lonely, it had been home.)

Sakura looks to the boy at her side; her new haunt, her tether. (Hers.) She still knows nothing about him beyond the name Sasuke. And those red eyes that have faded back to black soot is sure to be a loaded topic, too.

There are many things she wants to ask him, but she decides she’ll take her time learning. The truth is she has nothing but time.

“What?”

She's all giddy from that single glance he spares. Does he have to be so cool from every angle? Her gaze drops to his bloodied knuckles.

“Do your hands hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Did you hurt them breaking into the building?”

“No.”

Sakura tries to contain an amused grin. She can see him being quite a frustrating conversational partner in the future, but for now she’s quite enjoying it. “How did you hurt yourself then?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and she can see the cogwheels working rapidly behind his faraway gaze. “Trash disposal,” he tells her, a full ten seconds later that she has to wonder what exactly he’s filtered out before coming to that answer. He pats her head. “Don’t worry about it. I clean up pretty well.”

As they leave the school ground and continue walking in silence, Sakura thinks about the smoke she’s smelled on him. Has she gotten involved with a pretty dangerous person after all?

#sasusaku #haruno sakura #uchiha sasuke #love at first sight #human/non-human #ghost #supernatural #no it's not the TV show #snakes & cherry blossoms #fanfic #naruto

[currebunz]

Commission: Attack on Titan AU Parks and Recs

AO3 Link

A thick air hung in the office, crushing everyone's motivation for the day. The source of this bad energy came in the form of the ex-husband of the health advisor who worked in the same office area. The employee themselves were very nice and actually very apologetic for the situation. But the ex-husband was more than happy to be in the office. That was because he was here for an IRS tax audit. The Department of Trost had never had such a cold day before, even with the air conditions on high. whenever the man walked by, it was like a cold breeze went by. The younger and new hires were on high alert, flinching whenever the man was within sight. Sasha dived under her desk on her break as he walked by to look over Connie's shoulder. It was like watching a horror movie with a monster that didn't kill anyone. "I haven't had single thought with that guy walking around," Reiner said quietly while he was in the break room. Bertholdt had an open lunchbox in front of him but wasn't eating. "You think he can hear me chew? He told me chewing violated public health guidelines" he muttered quietly. "He's even gotten to Bert!" Reiner told Jean. "I can see that! Keep your voice down. That man has the ears of a hawk" Jean said as he covered Reiner's mouth with his hand. Everyone was quiet as they heard approaching feet. They let out a sigh at Marco entered the breakroom. "Hey....never mind" he turned around and walked back out. "That's cold Marco" Jean said quietly. "I don't blame him, I don't even want to mess around with that guy on patrol" Reiner groaned. He sat down next to Bertholdt, making the man eat his lunch before his break ended. "I just don't get it, how can someone be that evil?" Jean asked. "Easy, he's an ex," Annie said as she walked to the microwave. She stuck her hot pocket in and turned it on for a few minutes. "What's that supposed to mean?" Reiner asked.

 Annie cleared her throat, turning to them with a cold stare. "An ex is filled with nothing but disdain for their previous partner. Imagine, after breaking up you go to work and now hold the fate of your previous partner's job in your hands? You would be swallowed up by the immense power and go mad" she explained. All of the men stared at her in an eerie shock. The microwave beeped and she opened the door. "Or, at least that's what I would do," she said as she blew on her meal. Annie walked back out without any further comments. "My God, she is right" Jean groaned as he leaned against the counter. The ex-husband was obviously making their lives hell just to get back at their partner! "What a bastard! Why is he making us suffer too?" Reiner complained. "It's probably just to spite everyone," Bertholdt said as he finished his lunch. "Thanks, Reiner" he grinned to his partner. "Don't sweat it, but you need to eat. Forget what that guy says" Reiner frowned as he saw Connie dash by. "He's coming!" he hissed briefly before continuing on his way. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Jean gathered their stuff and quickly left the break room. Back on the floor, Eren was typing slowly. His eyes were glued to the keyboard as he hit one button at a time. His shoulders were stiff and his brow sweaty. "Erin, are you done yet? I need those papers soon" Armin called over the desk to him. "I'm trying but Brian said I type too loud" Eren explained. He tried to type a bit faster, but his keys began to click with each movement. "Jaeger! I thought I told you to keep it down!" a loud voice cut across the office. Eren jumped up from his table and stood at attention. "Sorry, sir! I'll be quieter sir!" he shouted before sitting back down. His head fell forward onto his keyboard and he groaned loudly. "Sorry, Eren..." Armin whispered sadly. "It's not your fault he has the ears that could hear a mouse fart" Eren sighed as he sat back up. The space bar was indented on his face, making his delete the extra spaces on his work. "It's like I don't even know how to type anymore" he groaned as he looked at the single sentence, he had worked on for the past 30 minutes. Brian would come over to his desk if he so much as yawned, telling him to hurry up but be quiet about it. "How are you holding up Armin?" Eren asked. "Oh, you know. Brian thought I worked too fast, so he gave me Sasha's work and has her cleaning the carpets. I've only just started the work for next quarter, but Brian insists it's better to be ahead" Armin prattled off as his vision began to tunnel. He reached for an energy drink to his right and tilted the can upward until the last drop fell into his mouth. "I can smell colors" he sighed as his eyes focused on the screen. Eren looked on in horror, the usually calm and collected Armin was now a nervous wreck. Eren would always get help from him as he finished his work early each day, but now Eren wanted to help Armin. "I'll take some of it off your hands, I can...uh.... write it out for you" Eren grabbed a stack of papers and began writing down the report rather than typing it. Armin could type it out later since he wasn't a loud.

 "Thanks, Eren. I don't want to stay late and have to wake you up to let me in again" Armin said in a shaky voice. He had only managed to sleep for five hours this morning before Eren woke him up to go to work. The two of them had staggered to the office and were immediately given a pile of work to deal with. That hadn't even been the worst of it, Mikasa who usually greeted them had been affected too. The woman usually was cool and stoic as nothing seemed to bother her. But that morning, she wore a cheerful smile and brought everyone coffee. "Hey guys, working hard or hardly working?" she laughed as she grabbed Eren's shoulders. Neither of her friends was able to respond right away. It was like she was a whole different person. "Uhh, working hard?" Eren said as he passed glances to Armin. "Mikasa, do you feel okay?" Armin asked. "Oh, Armin! You're so funny! I feel as good as the sun is bright. Brian was telling me that a cheerful mood brightens the workplace so I just thought a smile would help everyone better" Mikasa explained. As she said this, she took Eren's pen and wrote in his notebook. He read "HELP ME" written along the top of it. "R-Right...cheerful," he said quietly. "Well, I'm off to reorganize the permits. Brian said it was a real pigsty in there!" Mikasa gave the guys a thumbs up before speed walking off. As she passed Annie, she gave the woman finger guns. Annie simply stared at her in disbelief. She walked over to Eren and pinched the man's neck. "Annie! What the hell?!" he shouted. "Yeah, this isn't a dream. I need this Brian guy to hit the road so I can have my wife back" she said angrily. Annie took a long sip from her coffee as she glared at the office Brian was using. Currently, Levi had been busy with a national meeting and would only be in his office a few days out the week. While he was gone, Brian made himself comfortable in the office. Rearranging the desk and even bringing food in there as Levi had forbidden. Erwin had tried to stop him but as with everyone else, Brian had whipped him into place and did as he liked. He had even turned Ymir into a gopher, running her back and forth from other departments.

 Historia was putting a wet towel on Ymir's forehead while she downed a bottle of water. "That guy is like the if someone mixed raw concentrated evil with salt and limes" Ymir sighed as she fell into a chair. "The devil's margarita" Connie gasped. Ymir shot him a dirty look before turning to Historia. "Thanks, babe" she smiled tiredly. "Anytime honey" Historia kissed Ymir's cheek as she ran off to finish her work. Below them, Sasha was on her knees holding a pair of tweezers. "How am I supposed to clean the carpet with these?" she sighed as she picked out another crumb of granola. She dropped it into the small bag on her hip. "Why don't you use the vacuum?" Connie asked her. "Brian said it is a waste of power and since I am always behind, I can at least do this" Sasha sobbed. Even Levi never made her clean like this. "This is crazy man, how are we gonna get rid of this guy?" he groaned as he held his head in despair. "Good luck with that Connie, I'll make sure to redistribute your stuff to charity," Ymir said lazily. "H-Hey! I'm not gonna do it!" he argued. Sasha hugged his legs, crying loudly. "Please Connie! I don't wanna see another dust bunny again!" she bellowed. "I know, I know. But he is too scary!" Connie hugged Sasha as the two comforted one another. Just then, Marco dashed into the office. "Guys! Levi is coming!" he said in a panic. The entire office stopped, not a single person typed. Marco dashed to his desk and everyone held their breath as they tried to look normal. Their eyes darted between Levi's office and the front door.

 Hinge entered the office first, laughing loudly about something. She stopped as she spotted Sasha on the floor and Mikasa happily arranging a corkboard. "Good lord," she said quietly as she looked around. Levi walked up behind her, pushing her in the middle of her back. "Hange, what have I said about blocking the entryway?" he said in an annoyed voice. "Safety regulations, blah, blah. Just look" she said as Levi stepped around her. His eyes scanned the office without any emotion on his face. right away, he ran his finger along a file cabinet, noting the amount of dust that had accumulated. He walked over to Sasha, staring down at her. "Get up" he ordered her. Without even a breath, Sasha stood up and began shaking. "Get the vacuum and clean the floor properly," Levi said with a pointed glare. "Yes, sir!" Sasha took off running to the utility closet without looking back. Levi turned his gave to Eren and Armin, glaring at the large stack of papers on their desks. "Eren, stop playing with your keyboard and take half of Armin's work" he continued. Eren quickly scooped up the mess of papers and began typing loudly. Levi glanced at Ymir and Historia, not saying anything as he went to his office. He opened the door without knocking, earning a glare from Brian. "Where is Erwin?" Levi asked calmly. "He is out getting donuts, why?" Brian said back just as calmly. Everyone was still "working" while holding their breath. With Levi's absence, they had forgotten how much of an unstoppable force. It was like watching to lions facing off. "He should be here completing the month's summary, we have front desk employees that can get deliveries" Levi lectured the auditor as he walked slowly into the office. His eyes scanned every corner, noting each change Brian had made. "I see you have made a mess of my office" he continued. "A mess? I think I made it look better than before" Brian argued. Levi's eye twitched, obviously angered by the man's idea of "better".

 "It's still my office and since I am back, you can leave now," Levi said as he pointed to the door. "I don't think so, I still have plenty of work to do. As you may remember, I'm handling your office's audit" Brian stood up and held Levi's stare. No one said anything for a while, battling with just their eyes. Erwin came rushing through the door wearing a sweater tied over his shoulders like some golf club dad. "They ran out of chocolate dipped so I got chocolate glaze..." he trailed off as he saw Levi standing in the office. "Oh..." he began to back away, but Levi caught him by the sweater. "What the hell are you wearing?" he said in a low voice. Erwin wasn't sure how to respond, shrinking in his husband's presence. "He is wearing Royal Polo, it's fashion. You could learn a thing or two" Brian announced proudly. Levi turned back to Brian with a look of pure death. "That's it, you're coming with me" Levi dragged Erwin out and shut the door. He led everyone into the break room for a powwow. "Why the hell all are you all acting like whipped puppies?" Levi asked. "Brian is terrifying! We can't take it anymore!" Sasha cried loudly. "He made Sasha clean the carpet with tweezers for a whole week. A week!" Connie explained. "He took all of Jean and my bobbleheads. Even the limited editioned ones" Marco explained. "And he calls me bobblehead! I don't look like a bobblehead!" Jean said angrily. Mikasa's persona broke for a moment, allowing her to glare weakly. "He made me say 'totes', I can't even sleep at night without reciting Gossip Girl scenes," she said tiredly. "Levi, he broke my wife!" Annie said angrily. "Yeah, and he makes me run back and forth to relay info that he could just say over a call" Ymir joined in angrily. "He made me his secretary, I told him I was the head of archives, but he said I looked like a secretary" Historia reported. “Brian told me I was too big for the office and makes me work in the hall” Reiner growled. “Me too, he put me in the storage closet because I bloke his view of the office” Bertholdt added in.

 "It's worse than I thought, scratch that. Erwin's outfit is worse than I thought" Hange said. The man coughed, removing the sweater over his dress shirt. "I'm afraid even I can't stand up to him. He made me shave my beard since it was unsanitary" he explained. Levi's face was calm but everyone could sense the rage in him. They knew that Brian had crossed the line by altering how his husband looked. "This has gone on long enough. I'm calling in a favor" Levi said as he pulled out his phone. He dismissed everyone to go back to work as he talked on the phone. No one knew what he was planning as he cleared a table in the center of the office. Brian had walked out and looked around in mild confusion. "What is this?" he asked. Hange stood behind Levi, wearing a wild grin. "Welcome to the battle royale. Right here, right now. Operation soaring falcon is in its final stages" she announced. Levi sat down in one of the chairs as a large man entered the office. He was carrying a large gallon jug full of clear liquid. The man placed the jug on the table and shook hands with Levi. "Corporal" the man greeted him. "Swanson," Levi said back just as curtly. Everyone watched as Swanson pulled the cork off the bottle. "Ugh, what is that? It smells like Jet fuel" Sasha groaned as she covered her nose. "That's Swanson Family Mash liquor. Made from the finest corn ever grown on American soil. Its only legal use is to strip the varnish off of speedboats" Swanson explained. "It's time to settle this" Levi said as Swanson poured him a glass of the drink. "An old-fashioned prairie drink-off" Brian sighed as he removed his blazer. He took his own glass, holding Levi's stare. "If you win, the Trost Parks Department is yours. And if I win, you finish your audit with a perfect score and leave" Levi began. "Pour it, I'm thirsty" Brian challenged him. Levi and Brian took a shot of the liquor, closing their eyes as it burned down their throats. Everyone flinched despite not drinking it themselves. Another round down and neither batted a single eye. "Had enough?" Levi asked. "Of this watered-down baby formula? Not even close" Brian shot back with venom. By now, the entire office was watching things unfold. Neither party showed signs of getting even tipsy. Brian took another shot, burping after swallowing his glass. He began sweating, wiping it off and trying to pretend the alcohol wasn't hitting him quite yet. Levi held eye contact with him as he lifted the jug and chugged what was left of the liquor. "Oh my god" Connie gaped as Levi finished it with a loud sigh. "Game set!" Hange announced with a wild laugh. Levi rolled his eyes and looked down at Brian. "Now get out of my fucking department" he ordered him. Brian clumsily scrambled to his feet, gathering his stuff and stumbling out the door. Everyone began cheering and hugging each other. Levi closed his eyes, holding the bridge of his nose. "Everyone be quiet! Clean this place up and someone get me a cup of coffee" he shouted. Everyone was instantly quiet, shuffling around to fix the adjustments Brian had made them make in Levi's absence. Historia brought Levi a cup of coffee and he went back to his office with Erwin and Hange. Peace was restored in the Trost Parks Department and no one ever heard of Brian ever again.

#aot fanfiction #AOT AU #AU #Commission

[spnfanficpond]

September 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @manawhaat today! Thank you so much for joining us, even though you were busy!!

Today, a bunch of us got together and talked about inspiration and writer’s block! We all had good ideas that were discussed! A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

To start us off, Mana shared a link to this ask that was recently presented to the Pond. The question was that a professor said that there was no such thing as a muse or writer’s block. The answers given by some of our Big Fish are terrific! All seem to agree that the ideas of a muse and writer’s block are valid, no matter what you call them. Digging beneath the surface to ask what is causing the writer’s block or the inspiration can help to get you past what’s stopping you and get you writing, again.

@mrswhozeewhatsis (Michelle)shared a link to a tweet by Robbie Thompson. She had asked him for tips on getting inspired or getting past blocks when the words just don’t want to flow. He responded by saying, “write from emotion: what scares you, angers you, etc. and make writing a habit. sit down once a day, same time if you can & just get to work. got nothing? write until it comes. inspiration is great but not always reliable.”

When looking for ideas from other famously prolific writers, this post from Neil Gaiman came up. In it, Mr. Gaiman says that blaming writer’s block gives you something to blame, but it’s usually a combination of laziness, perfectionism and getting stuck. He goes on to encourage writers to not accept writer’s block as a insurmountable thing and figure out the cause so you can get past it.

@mostly-shawn (Maayan): My professor's take on writer's block is that writer's block doesn't exist because there's no such thing as "not knowing". What we call "writer's block" is simply being distracted by other things like shopping lists and to-do lists and everything else, so in order to overcome "writer's block" you just need to sit and write everything that's in your head and clear out your brain space to allow yourself access to the idea. And in terms of muse, she doesn't believe in muse because no work is perfect on the first draft and because it's not perfect, you can't have had a muse.

If anyone wants to read her book it's called "To Tell The Truth" and it's about how to write creative nonfiction. Obviously, that's not what we're all in the business of, but it's a good read for all genres.

Everyone seemed to agree that this professor has a strange view on muse, but she’s got a point about writer’s block. A muse can be anything that inspires you to write, and nothing anyone ever writes is perfect right out of the gate, so her perfection theory makes no sense to us. Mana disagreed with part of her thoughts on writer’s block, though.

Mana: I think she has a point of clearing your head in order to get into your 'writing groove' but insisting that there isn't such a thing as 'not knowing' sounds ridiculous to me, specifically, a person who has not known what she wanted to do with a certain rpf fic for over 4 years.

@katehuntington mentioned that sometimes she feels like she knows exactly what she wants to write, but when she sits down, the words just won’t come. She can’t get them down. Michelle said her Fibromyalgia sometimes causes similar cognitive difficulties. The words just aren’t there. (If anyone has read Rob Benedict’s chapter in Family Don’t End With Blood, the feeling is described there beautifully.) 

Michelle: Physical and mental issues can definitely affect creativity. When you're struggling to do the basic activities of daily living, creativity is not your body's priority.

Q: So, what do you guys do when you hit a block?

Kate: Accept it. LOL. I take a lot of inspiration out of what I've written already, if that makes sense. I revisit stories, go over what made those work. And I read back on the feedback I had from readers too. Those can be super inspiring.

Maayan: Yeah, I basically just say "alrighty then" and continue on with my life and push the work as far out of my head as possible.

Mana: Write some flaming garbage. (Michelle added, “Crap makes good compost.”) I get through as much as I can, plot wise. if I'm stuck between point b and c, but know where I'm going from point d to e then I just put down anything I might want to happen between point b and c and then move on. There is no rule that says writing needs to happen in a linear form so if I get stuck, I move on.

Michelle: I once heard Robbie Thompson talk about writing at a seminar, and he said that if he's really stuck, he'll take a walk, get outside, get some fresh air, clear his head. Just change his scenery, really. Did you know that when you move from one room to another, your brain kind of ties off the thought you had in the first room and opens up another thread in the second room? It's why so many people arrive in a room and then forget why they're there. (This is why carrying something from one room to the next can help you remember why you're in that second room.) Sometimes, that's what you need. Make your brain jump out of the rut it was in. Write in a different room, on a different medium (paper instead of tablet, tablet instead of computer, etc)

Mana: I haven't tried writing on a different medium, unless you count someone else's computer instead of your own, but the change of scenery does help. listening to different music instead of your usual tunes helps. 

Maayan: I think better when I pace so when if I'm trying to figure out a storyline I pace, but when I have the storyline but I can't make my fingers do the word thing on the magical typing box I'm just stuck for good usually. (A suggestion was made that she could try speech-to-text software to help her get past that!) Mana records voice notes to her phone to be transcribed later.

Kate and Michelle both said that having ideas isn’t the problem for them, most of the time. The problem is usually having the focus to sit down and translate them to paper.

Mana: Watching a movie you know well enough to tune in and out of is a big one for me. Literally any time I NEED to do something in my life, I put on Pride and Prejudice bc I know the film so well and love the score, but it's my ultimate focus movie. I can tune out and write or file taxes or whatever the fuck and tune back in for him to hold her hand helping her in the carriage and then tune back out and repeat this process while the movie plays 6 times in a row.

Michelle: I can't have anything else playing. No music, no TV, no nothing. However, I've discovered that a lava lamp does wonders! When we lived in our apartment in Chicago, I had a great view of the planes coming into O'Hare, and it was an east-facing view, so I saw the sunrise after a long night of writing so many times. My creativity dropped way down when we moved and I no longer had a view to stare at. So, I bought a glitter lava lamp. I love staring into that thing. And then I put up twinkling fairy lights over my desk. Something about that got me going, again. 

Maayan: I use my fish and snail as a lava lamp with the same effect.

Q: What do you do when you’re in the flow, and everything is going great, but you suddenly just stop? You know where you want to go, but you’re suddenly just stuck for no clear reason?

Michelle: I've discovered, and this may not be true for anyone else, but I've discovered that it usually means I've screwed up a little ways back. If I go back to where I last felt like everything was going well, and rethink everything I wrote since then, I've usually made a mistake in that section, and it needs to be rewritten. Whether I've made a character do something that's not in their character, or I've added something (or taken something away) that isn't right, whatever it is, it's in that section. If I just delete it and start writing from the previous good spot, I get going again.

Kate: Yeah. I've read somewhere that when you're stuck, you should go back at least 5 lines and start over. Put those lines away, pick it up again.

Mana: I think that's a big difference between us, Michelle. You can pinpoint a spot where things go awry and back up, cut off what isn't working and restart. I am a stubborn bitch so even if I see that something isn't really working, if I like it even the slightest bit, I refuse to get rid of it or change it. And those are the instances where I 'pick fights' with you and resist your input when you're beta reading for me. Am I the only one that does that? And if so, how are you all able to justify letting go of something that doesn't quite work but you've grown attached to?

Michelle: It’s perfectly okay to set bits aside and use them in other fics! Timestamps. Put it in another fic. Make it a one shot! I cut SO MUCH from Non-Trad, but I loved those parts SO MUCH, and that's how the Timestamps were born. They really didn't fit into the story well. They made it bloated. So I published them separately. Now, finding that I've gone off the rails entirely makes it easier for me to go back and get rid of something.

Q: Tips that we haven’t mentioned, yet?

Kate: Ask for help. Have a beta look it over, or whoever is interested and might be able to add to it.

Michelle: When looking for inspiration, always go back to the source material. It's not lazily, obsessively binge-watching the same show over and over, it's RESEARCH.

Mana: Someone asked what I do to get over it and I said: when I experience writer’s block or when the character I’m trying to write isn’t cooperating with me and I can’t get my brain to function I try to distract myself with something else or another character. Try watching an episode with your character in it, get a refreshed feel of how they move, talk, interact with other characters, draw from the episode or scenarios that you can fill in where the ep didn’t. Or, take ques from other characters, write about someone else for a bit so your mind has a break and time to sort itself out, then go back to what you were working on. 

Another way to get past it is to read other’s work. It may inspire you, make you realize that the story you wanted to tell this way can be told a different way, or give you the kick you need. 

My best answer to this: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

When the block hits and you have zero inspiration or motivation, write about anything and everything. Start reading and watching new things to see if it’ll spark something, check out Tumblr and users you don’t follow to get your eyes on some fresh content, write a dramatic scene of you sitting on the couch to hear the doorbell ring and let the suspense grow until you open it to find a pizza man there when you specifically did not order a pizza. Writing through it may spark something, and if not, my best suggestion would be to read. Read your old stuff and that of others, read a new book, read an article on how to beat writer’s block, read through the writer resources tag at the @spnfanficpond…

Mana also gifted us with these lovely links:

Writer’s block app that won’t let you do anything else until you’ve reached your goal.

A lovely gif beautifully encapsulating exactly how writer’s block feels.

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work!  IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

SPNFanFicPond Season 14 Weekly Episode Challenge - Even though season 15 is just around the corner, these prompts will still always be open for you to use! Remember, there’s no deadline for submissions! Just tag the Pond and @mrswhozeewhatsis in your post!

Say hi to August’s New Members!

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details!  The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for October’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

#spnfanficpond live chat #chat room #let's chat #pond chat #THE CHAT ROOM #chat recap

[crqstalite]

pt. 16, ancestry. ( aric && hakio)

finally got around to writing another one. i had writing block for a hot second over the last week, so that’s why this didn’t come out as soon as i would’ve liked. sorry for the continuous filler, but i did need some time to flesh out hakio’s family before continuing on (they will have a bigger part in this story, especially tyqin, who contacted thek n ba’shira)

oh, and yes. tyqin is a drag queen.

written: 9.14.19. word count: 4,235.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ character song: liar, camila cabello

character file: hakiojkl hyperion, colonel of the republic military

-

thankfully, elara arrives only a bit before dinner, ending the embarrassing confrontation with voonie and her mother. her mother threatens to give aric a talking to before they leave, but welcomes elara with a sunny disposition. once the three of them get settled, hakio introduces them to the members of her family. voonie doesn't bother with elara, questioning aric and whatnot, but baishya and apani have the most questions for both members. darjev doesn't leave his room until dinner is called, and josie is happy to listen in for the time being.

to say the least, dinner's rather quiet between the members of havoc. the younger members of the hyperion family ask all sorts of questions, those they can't answer legally (e.g, who do they work for), those they can't answer morally (e.g, how many people have you killed), and just...rather odd questions to say the least (e.g is aric afraid of cucumbers). no one acknowledges elara's accent or heritage (a win in her book), and more or less the twins are curious about the firepower the assault cannons have.

her mother shuts down that discussion quick when their eyes light up ecstatically as hakio delves into her favorite topics, weapons. it's not that she doesn't understand why, which is why she switches the topic to less dangerous tactics, which elara leads. hakio figures it's still a shock for her mother, and still a sore spot for the rest of the family. the brewing war has taken the form of their injured daughter and sister, and having three soldiers eat dinner with them in lounges with ruler-straight backs and only a chuckle here and there, is probably bringing the mood down.

her mother won't look at her directly anymore either. as much as she hugged her and and laughed with her when she first arrived, her eyes still speak volumes. disappointment is the loudest, longing is another. anger hides behind her eyes, the quiet fire blazing as she takes everyone's plates from them, disappearing into the kitchen.

it's been too long since she's been home. everyone's changed, and she feels as if the kids she grew up with no longer know her, and she no longer knows them. they easily banter back and forth with each other, telling jokes as if the reason they're here is no big deal. like nothing's happened, like nothing's changed. like their sister isn't on leave, like she's been here this whole time.

it's disheartening to say the least. how close she and her mother used to be, through her training at the academy, through school. through her father's death, through the accident. they used to be two peas in a pod.

what happened?

"i'm here!" a loud and cheerful voice says, the front door shutting loudly as baishya and apani jump up from their seats excitedly and josie rolls his eyes, darjev making sure their mother really was gone and putting his feet up on the table. "did you all miss me?" she barely overhears.

"yes!" the girls and josie say in excitement.

"who's arrived, major?" elara asks quizzically, out of earshot of the rest of her family, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"i'm not sure." hakio responds, head in her hands, a headache coming on. holding her head up, she rubs her temples. "probably one of our family friends."

"nope, it's ty." darjev says, overhearing their conversation as he looks up from one of his hologames. "he's coming with us to the hospital, and against mom's better judgement, she invited him to come over for dinner. he would show up late, that's tyqin hyperion for you." darjev scoffs as josie frowns.

"tyqin doesn't mean to be late, he's just been busy lately." josie says, frowning at darjev's comment. hakio holds back a sigh, josie's protected tyqin since they were children, deflecting the blame or taking it all himself. it's admirable, but rather annoying. "maybe he has something for you, hakio!" he jumps up, and dashes out of the living room, a blur of blue. darjev lazily looks over to her.

"i'm gonna murder that man at some point." he says nonchalantly, as if he's forgotten elara and aric were sitting at the table and he was just admitting what he'd done the day prior. "push him off a balcony if i could."

"that's our brother you're talking about, darjev." hakio narrows her eyes, eyebrows furrowing. "don't go around threatening your family."

"family? tyqin hasn't been my brother for a long time, hakio." he responds dryly, grimacing as he pulls another bread roll from the basket on the table and stuffs it in his mouth. "even you know that."

hakio knows that good and well, but it still doesn't make it any better. her eldest and youngest brothers had never gotten along well, their personalities clashing hard even as children. now that they're adults, she's afraid of the fallout from years of disagreements and arguments. tykurt tended to be the middle man and break them up, but he apparently hadn't been back to the apartment in years. apani, baishya, darjev and josie were the only hyperion children that still lived in the house with her aging mother.

something about that makes her uneasy for the future. "why do you care anyways? you ran off to the military and didn't even contact us after the accident. why'd you even come back tonight?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"that's because i care about quinne." she answers firmly, her cheeks heating with the realization that it's true. she's been disconnected from her family for so long. it has been a long time without seeing them, and maybe she should've tried harder to come back sooner. then, it's also not her fault she's out protecting the greater galaxy and the coreworlds; as well as coruscant from galactic threats. "i'm here for her."

"good to know that you've forgotten about the rest of us." he fires back. she opens her mouth to speak again when he cuts her off, "what about the twins? mom hates that baishya wants to go into the military, apani wants to be a field medic like the imperial you brought. marli's in training right now, won't even be back until graduation. and guess what? it's all because of you. you're gonna be the reason mom lives alone, waiting until one of us gets promoted or dies to see us again."

aric and elara both stand from their seats, the aforementioned cathar muttering something about getting some air and heading towards the balcony. now alone, hakio isn't afraid to bring out some of her worse not-for-those-outside-the-family arguments. as selfish as it sounds, she's glad they're gone so that her xo and medic don't think of her any different. "and so what? obviously you and tyqin are going to be here forever, slaving away to some corporation until you pass out from heat exhaustion or smoke inhalation. if they want to follow their dreams, why do you want to stop them?" she asks, trying not to raise her voice in case those out in the foyer can hear her.

"mom already lost dad. she nearly lost quinne. she lost you. she's still holding onto what she has left. what's it gonna take for you to care about the rest of your family again?" darjev asks, crossing his arms. "one day, no one's gonna be looking out for you because they know nothing about you, nothing about where you've been, who you're friends with, what you're doing." he pauses again, watching as she changes her own stance to pick up her glass. "you haven't been my sister for a long time. don't start acting like you are again."

and with that, tyqin and his procession of hyperions enters in the dining room as her mother comes back with a towel over her left shoulder. darjev makes a beeline for the stairs, heading up to his room. all she can hear is static in her ears as she tries to stabilize herself with this realization. her blood is boiling, how can he just say that and get up and pretend nothing's changed? that what he's said doesn't hurt more than a bullet to the chest?

hakio didn't know her sisters were planning to go into the military, she hadn't even noticed her quiet sister was gone at the academy. he was right, she knew nothing about her siblings. the childish wonders they'd once all indulged in, didn't matter anymore. the dolls were traded in for dresses, the books were traded in for medical magazines, the hairties for guns.

she hadn't been the only reason for this.

"oh. my. stars." tyqin accentuates every word, shrieking in excitement as he dashes over to her, hugging her as she tries to remain upright. "my sister, a hero of the republic is finally back home!"

"good to see you too, ty." she says, trying to shake off the previous conversation and give her older brother a bear hug. he has all sorts of bags in his hands, his face painted as if he's just been at a party. and as well as he acts, he stinks of alcohol. he must've been out before he'd arrived, which while not odd, was weird he'd go partying before visiting his injured sister in a hospital.

then again, this was also tyqin hyperion. well known queen and partier on the lower levels of coruscant. "ooo, girl. i knew i snatched weaves, but where did yours go?"

"i shaved it, dumbass." she says, trying to lighten her mood as she lifts tyqin's hands from her bare head. the curly-haired male rolls his eyes as he pulls things out the bags he's carrying, laying them out on the dining room table as the younger kids' eyes widen in excitement.

"brought some things for ya'll though. sorry hakio, had i known you were coming i would've bought you something too." he says, though she knows he's not. as much as he didn't know, he probably also isn't very sorry for leaving his sister without a gift. the younger ones were always his favorites (and voonie. voonie made it clear that whenever gifts were handed out, she got something expensive too), and he was always rather stingy (even though yuvi can -and often does- pay for everything without complaint) with his purchases for other people. evident, in the new nails he has done and the way his clothes shimmer in the low light of the dining room.

"it's not that big a deal." she finally says, choosing the least argumentative response as her siblings go through their gifts. hakio doesn't make much of a note of any of them (partially because she doesn't care, partially because her mind isn't on what lifeday gifts come early they've received), and instead decides to head back up to her, aric and elara's room until it was time to leave.

"wait for a second sweetie. where are you headed?" tyqin asks, his nails just ghosting her arm as she begins up the steps, josie, apani and baishya still gushing over the expensive gifts and her mother wiping off the table. "you aren't going to be a no-show like darjev are you?"

"of course not. but if we're heading out soon i need to get dressed." she says, and hurries up the stairs so that tyqin can't say anything else. he's such an airhead sometimes, she's not concerned whether he'll remember this and question her about her behavior later.

finally upstairs, she punches in the code and enters her bedroom, where elara is sitting on her cot and reading off a datapad and aric is pacing back and forth in front of her window. both stand when she arrives, before she gives the universal sign to relax. no one speaks for a moment before elara sits back down on her cot, shutting off her datapad. "are things...alright, colonel?"

"things are fine, elara." she says softly, giving her medic a smile. "whatever happens here, stays here. we hyperions just...show love differently."

understatement of the millenia, she grumbles to herself.

"permission to speak freely?" aric growls. hakio sighs, before nodding. she wonders what has aric so riled up. "whatever business is going on between you and your family, how do you just let your brother treat you like that?"

"how much did you hear?" hakio asks, cocking an eyebrow. she's rather suspcious now, aric tended to be much more in her life than she would've liked already, which she figured was typical of someone who was trying to court you, but found that odd he would eavesdrop. it seemed rather out of character for him.

"the captain and i accidentally overheard you on the way up. our deepest apologies, sir." elara apologizes, not meeting her eyes.

"it's difficult to explain. my family's been fractured for a long time, my return home has just solidified it for some." she responds, fishing out her bag from under her bed (careful not to touch the sheets atop the mattress) and pulling out garments of clothing. "i'm going to the hospital with my family in a bit. will you two be alright alone?"

"of course, sir." elara answers, aric still grumbling somewhere behind her. the sun is just setting over the horizon, and a glance at a chrono on her wall says that it's barely early evening. chances are, they wouldn't stay long either, so maybe havoc wouldn't spend the night. "whatever you need, we're here for you."

"thank you, elara." she says, putting her civillian clothes over one arm and leaving the bedroom to change in the bathroom. as soon as she steps outside, voonie passes by and she grins mischeveously as she pockets a tube of makeup.

"that cathar is keeping you rather busy." her sister purrs as she follows her into the bathroom, the door not closing fast enough to keep the dark skinned girl out. "how many men are on the team anyways? military men are always so hot."

"none that would be after you." she deadpans. yuun? definitely not, she wasn't even sure whether gand had mates outside of their own species. tanno? hakio shivers at the thought, it could either go absolutely horridly, or worse. ryean? the poor zabrak would have a heart attack over all the skin the woman showed. if her eyes were on aric... "could i get dressed by myself, please?"

"there's something going on between ya'll, isn't there?" voonie questions again, as hakio crosses her arms. voonie moves to primp her hair a bit, slathering something over lips. the two women in the mirror don't look all that different, but the way they hold themselves is. it's like being in high school again, hakio with the baby puffs and voonie's hair flattened and relaxed. one was clearly popular, dressing nicely though she had to work for it, and the other not caring with others thought about how she dressed. "by the stars finally. thought it'd take you forever to get married. even if he is non-human." she says, an e-cigarette in hand as she blows out a stream of smoke that makes hakio cough.

"go outside with that thing. and i don't care anyways. whether i get married or not isn't any of your business. now get out and let me get dressed." she says, nearly pushing her sister out the door with more force than is probably necessary.

"hmph." is all she can say, brushing her hair away from her shoulder and turning away from the bathroom. rolling her eyes, she pulls off her shirt before sticking the next one. however, she catches a glimpse of all the scars on her chest, and the muscles that came along with them.

she can't imagine what life would be like if she never left the apartment. she wouldn't look like this, that's for sure. maybe she'd be closer to her siblings and her mother. but she wouldn't have had the same experiences, nor would she know what she knows now. she wouldn't know aric, elara, forex, tanno, yuun, ryean or synntai.

but was it worth it? the accident with the junkers, being drafted into havoc squad? the betrayal?

for once in her life, hakio isn't sure.

-

"my dear, baby sister." quinne says hoarsely, coughing a bit as hakio comes to sit by her bedside. quinne shuffles to sit up, a grim smile on her face as she visibly winces. "finally, you've come to see me."

"i'm sorry, quinne. i've been so busy with havoc-" she says, before her eldest sister cuts her off with a finger to her lips.

"so talkative. nothing's changed. i know you're busy, hakio. and that's alright. you're saving the galaxy one battle at a time, and i admire that so much." she says, her dark brown eyes glittering in the white light of the hospital's room. "i wish i'd gone into the military all those years ago. unmarried, without kids."

"but you still love them, right?" hakio asks, a little nervous with the wistful tone her sister's voice was becoming. she has three kids and a husband, so this is rather odd. "you're representing the republic as a senator anyways. you do more than i do."

"that's kind of you, hakio. as much as i'd like to take that compliment, it's not true. i'm more a figurehead than anything else." her face scrunches up in pain as she stops talking for a moment before shaking it off, "sorry, the painkillers haven't been working for a while."

"don't be sorry. this wasn't your fault." and that's enough to get her blood boiling again. this was never quinne's fault, and she shouldn't have to say sorry for being in pain while her family visits. "i'm bringing whoever did this to you to justice."

"oh, hakio please. don't do anything stupid." she takes her hands in hers, trying to calm her down. "what happened, happened. it's like when darjev and tyqin used to fight. whatever the issue was didn't matter the day after, and on a grander scale, that's all this is. whoever shot me will forget about it later."

"that's...not how war works, sis." she says. the bandage wrapped around her chest is proof enough. the imperials weren't just going to give up because one person told them to stop. in fact, that'd make it worse. "the empire will just keep fighting, and i have to be there to stop them."

"then do just that. fight the battles, win the war. whatever you have to do. then you can come back and settle down with the rest of us." quinne says, smiling, "little hakios running around here and there. what a thought."

"sure." hakio says. as much of a wish that is for voonie, her mother and quinne, to say the least hakio isn't interested in settling down. the empire isn't going to roll over when she says 'i do' to someone. the republic will never be safe, and she can't exactly chase after agents if she can't see her own feet. "maybe." she answers uneasily.

"or not." quinne makes a movement to shrug, but winces instead. "my soldier baby sister probably doesn't want to step away from the frontlines, huh?"

hakio finally looks up at her face, really looks at her. quinne hasn't been a young adult for a long time, but for some reason she looks much older than she should. the way she smiles, the way her skin crinkles around her eyes. she's not sixteen anymore, and she's really someone else now. she's the senator of a whole planet now, she's the mother of three and a loving wife. and a doting sister as she rubs her head. "just don't forget how fragile life is. i attended one funeral for a hyperion killed in action. i'm not attending one for you too."

"long as you don't die first." hakio says, and quinne smiles. standing from her chair, she stretches her arms over her head, yawning. it's been a bit, and she was the last one to come in. it must be dark by now. she might as well take elara and aric out for a bit, it'd be late and there wouldn't be as many attendants at the spaceport. as much as she should spend time with her family, everyone is looking sleepy. being in space and on different planets so often makes her a little off the r.s.t time zones, hence why she isn't exhausted right now. "guess i'll be going, quinne."

"alright. i won't let my colonel of a sister get too caught up with little old me." she says, shuffling back into a position to lay down. "don't be a stranger."

"'course." hakio says, waving as the door closes behind her. letting out a sigh, she heads down the hall back to the waiting room. her family heads outside, chattering between each other as darjev ignores the others, and voonie continues quizzing her about her state of affairs with the men on her ship. when they return to the apartment, hakio is exhausted by answering question after question. her room is surprisingly quiet when she returns, and under closer inspection, elara has fallen asleep on her cot with her datapad in hand. slowly taking it from her so she doesn't wake her friend, she shuts it off and puts it on her desk, and puts the spare blanket on over her. at least that way she won't freeze through the night.

"hakio?" aric asks, sitting up on her bed. "didn't know when you'd be back, and elara passed out a while ago."

"she's been working since before i left. maybe we should all go out tomorrow, relax a bit." hakio suggests, turning on the shade to her window so that the skyline of coruscant can't see inside her room. "what've you been up to? not snooping around my childhood bedroom, i hope." she smirks as aric chuckles.

"i'd never. your mom actually talked both our ears off and gave us the leftovers from dinner. she's sweet." he responds, "she told us about your family, your dad. she let it slip she doesn't want you in the military anymore."

"i'm not surprised." her voice quiets as she sits next to her second in command, her head hanging. "as much as she wants it, this is who i am. i'm not sure i'm ready to give it up, whether my family loves me more or less because of it. i guess i lost sight of making them proud when i got drafted into havoc."

"don't apologize for wanting to make a difference. you're protecting the republic. sure i understand why they're upset, but that's on them. you can either bend to their will doing something you'd never be happy slaving away at, or you can do something that you would do for the rest of your life with no questions." aric responds. "you can't do anything about how others feel. whether you want to settle down or not, that isn't their decision to make."

"i..guess you're right." hakio responds. possibly he'd also been through this decision in his past. maybe his parents had also been hard on him. cathars did tend to mate for life, as she'd learned. maybe his family had been looking for him to marry better than they did. "if you weren't a soldier, what would you be doing, aric?"

"i don't know. this has always been me." he pauses as if he's thinking. "what about you?"

"you probably already know from the conversation at the dinner table. i was supposed to take over my dad's repair shop. tyqin and voonie used to apprentice there, and since i was the least girlish of the family, he figured i would've liked it. then he died while i was away, and the shop went through foreclosure. by then, i knew i wasn't coming back to coruscant, and my family knew i was the only one that didn't visit anymore. they didn't bother asking me to come back anymore." she frowns. it's all true, maybe if she'd stayed things wouldn't be the way they were now. maybe her dad would still be alive. maybe things would be the way they used to be.

aric seems to read her mind and uneasy thoughts as he puts his hand over hers. "it all depends on what you want to do, hakio. are you happy with havoc?"

"more than anything. i like protecting those who can't protect themselves." she answers firmly, staring back into his emerald green eyes.

"then that's all that matters." he says, as she smiles. for real this time.

"thank you, aric." she says, tipping his head just a bit as he looks confused before she kisses him. standing before he can do anything else, she looks over her shoulder slyly as she grabs her lounges from earlier. "i'll be back, i'm going to get a shower."

"y-yeah." he responds, "i'll be here."

"i hope so." she giggles, stepping over elara's sleeping form, the door closing behind her.

as much as she hates the idea of retiring, maybe being...lifemates with aric(that's what he called it, right?) wouldn't be so bad. well, if he likes her like that. her real emotions have only just emerged, it'd be a shame if he didn't feel the same.

but...hakiojkl jorgan does have a nice ring to it.

by the stars, now she was thinking like voonie, she though angrily as she turned the scalding water on. finding quinne's attacker first, aric later.

#swtor oc #star wars the old republic #swtor #elara dorne #aric jorgan #hakiojkl hyperion #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #female republic trooper #female trooper/aric jorgan #fanfiction #oc #original character

[miamaroo]

Northern Migration- Chapter 29 (Notes+Preview)

It's been forty long years since I last updated. Does anyone even write TAZ Balance fics anymore? Does anyone even remember that I'm a writer, or is my brand just that pair of unnecessary bara tiddies that all the kids around the block make fun of me for nowadays? Either way, I'm still in business. And what is a new chapter if not an opportunity to give a long list of notes?

Obviously, spoilers ahead.  

Did you catch that quick little appearance of Brad Bradson? I very recently rewrote that entire opening scene in order to include a new character, which gave me the chance to reinsert Brad into the story instead of featuring a nameless OC.

See that quick mention of Bane's past? That's going to be expanded on very soon (or at least, soon by my standards).

And the new character I wanted to include is Antonia! Again, I originally had a throwaway OC in this role, but when I was writing the chapter after this, I realized the role I needed was too big to go to a throwaway OC. I didn't include the other guy (Rowan?? I think??) because I felt like it would be too much for me to properly handle. Plus, I don't think he and Antonia are a packaged deal. I'll do my best to find a place for him somewhere else in the story, but I also have had Hecuba on the backburner for way too long. She gets first dibs.

The threat Sterling gives Bane works a little better with the throwaway OC I had, who was a captain from a different city looking to take over Bane's position in Goldcliff. Essentially, the threat was Bane being replaced.

Oh, you assumed Angus was inoculated off-screen? You assumed incorrectly!

Magnus and Julia are just *chef's kiss*

I am in Team Lucretia Should Be Angus's Mom, but that only comes with the understanding that she's kinda bad at it. Which is mostly fine with Angus, as he's pretty bad at being a normal kid with normal needs.

Taako's meeting with Istus was vaguely alluded to during the flashback of how he and Ren saved Refuge (back during the Wonderland arc). He went there without Ren (the POV character), so the scene was never written.

Having Julia cross herself in front of a god is an overtly Christian gesture, and frankly, it does bug me that I had to utilize it here. I'm trying to avoid coding this fantasy world's religion with too much Christianity, but I needed a way to convey Julia trying to show respect quickly and without burdening the prose too much. So I felt a little trapped and ended up just using crossing anyways. I was raised Catholic, so there's probably a whole bunch of Little Christian Things that just pop up in my writing without me realizing so it's kinda a bummer that I couldn't find a way to work around something I know I'm doing.

Istus is just out here referring to the canonical story as an alternate reality

I try to make Davenport's comments discernable to the reader without needing a direct translation, but I feel as though I may have messed up this time around. When Istus warns that there is a terrible choice in their futures, Davenport essentially asks if this is the same terrible fate the Judges from the Stolen Century had condemned them for.  So Istus's repone ("Indeed, but I don't see your deeds as ones that are mine to judge") is reassuring as it is a little cheeky.

If you want more of Julia challenging gods with reckless abandon, read my story.

Isn't it just lovely that the prophecy fits the naming scheme of all the chapters?

I knew I wanted to kill someone in the main cast off, but I spent a long time trying to decide if I could do it without betraying everything tazb stands for. Inevitably, I decided that it's my story, and I want to take the risk. I think that it will be worth it. I am not a big fan of character death being there just for the same of being there, and I hope that when the time comes and I bring the scene I have in mind to life, you guys will be okay with it. This is chapter sort of acts as an in-universe warning so that you can start preparing yourself mentally (though it's not going to happen during this upcoming relic arc for sure). The archive tags will change as we get closer to the deed being done.

I am also doubling down on my reassurance that Stevie will be okay with an in-story explanation for her plot armor.

All the way back in January, I had made a few posts about trying to decide between the fun anachronism of a scrunchie and the fantasy-esque poncho. As you can see, I did both.

There is no possible way anyone can triumph the soul-purifying beauty of "you're going to be amazing," but damnit. I did my best, even if I only changed it ever so slightly. They have already done a lot of amazing things. And you know what? So have you! You're already amazing!

Oh, John. This is probably the most ambiguously I've written him yet. One thing's for sure: something has changed for him, though only time will tell what that thing is.

I'm claiming "Landslide" as track #2 on a NM mixtape. Don't @ me.

Lucas used command undead on Barry in chapter 24, preventing him from taking the umbra staff when he had the chance.

Lup and Barry souls are pure magic, so I imagine Barry can recognize Lup's magic anywhere.

I've been writing Barry as very depressed and slightly off-kilter because I imagine his anchor to Lup is disturbed somewhat by her imprisonment.

Despite seeing vague visions of the Stolen Century, Ren can't piece any of it together because knowledge of all those realities could ruin her mind like it did Maureen.

I imagine Kravitz was leaning against a wall when he saw Stevie run by and just sort of shrugged to himself. He doesn't quite catch how much society has changed yet.

I am half asleep right now, so no more quips. Here's the preview for the next chapter:

While Taako is all color, the Grim Reaper is a void of black. Muted traces of reds and purples make themselves known on the trim of his blanket and beads in his braids, but he doesn’t seem to need any neon hues. He looks warm, like the relic of a hazy summer day. Yet, when Taako jabs an elbow at his stomach, he yelps in surprise and complains about the cold.

“Intriguing pair, right?”

Julia quirks a brow, looking askance to see Lucretia hiding her smile behind her map. “That’s a way of putting it,” she says. “No matter how you look at it, one of them is going to get you dead.”

Lucretia shakes her head. “Be fair.”

“Sure. It’s the Raven Queen’s fault.” A moment too late, Julia crosses herself. She’s never considered herself a religious person, but after meeting one goddess, she dares not risk angering another.

“Taako, too.” Lucretia folds up the map with intention. Her robe is like a slash of scarlet, but she carries the power of it with practiced ease. On Taako, the color looks like a costume—a role he’s only playing at being. A suggestion with no foundation. Even Kravitz, in his reaper regalia, seems made to fulfill a duty. Maybe that’s why Julia wears a peasant, mud-colored cloak that reaches her knees. Beyond a red scarf tied in her short hair, she doesn’t fake having an allegiance to something not her own. “Who knows? Perhaps this little adventure together will help you realize each other’s strengths.”

Julia snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Thank you Taako for using your transmutation magic to stop the transmutation problem you created.”

“Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.” Taako pushes between them, wry words cutting through the calm atmosphere. The woods around them is quiet in a disconcerting kind of way, as if the universe wants them to know that they are crazy for approaching what all others have fled. Taako saunters ahead, twirling his glaive, He spins around lazily. He looks ready to say something when a particular snowflake drifts down before him. It’s bigger than the rest, the size of a coin. Bright and white, they watch as it floats the last few inches until touching the snow.

The snow around it sloshes inwards, spilling like sand on a beach. Except, it’s no longer white. It’s makeup pink. Seeping outwards like a spider webs, the tendrils of magic make a larger and larger circle of pink in the snow.

Everyone scrambles away, knowing without words what they’re seeing.

#The Adventure Zone #taz #tazb #taz balance #captain bane #taz taako #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #taz lucretia #captain davenport #taz kravitz #barry bluejeans #taz ren #taz lup #taakitz #magnulia #blupjeans #taz fanfiction #taz fic #my fics #taz nm #updates #notes

[faintblueivy]

“You look so cute with this cat ears and your whiskers” - poke - for BoruSara. Hopefully you like this prompt ... from a mysterious person.

So, I finally had some idea to write this fic. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's you @misteryous-stranger! Warning is this is complete CRACK. And... I've haven't written anything like this before so...

Well, they're 15 here!

Thanks to lovely @roopshasil for beta reading it!

Purrfect

“I'm sorry Sarada. I'm afraid I can't do anything about it.”

“Mama! You can't be serious! He-He is th-this! You have to find a way to turn him back into normal.”

“I have considered every possible way, sweetie. It is an irreversible jutsu but fortunately, I think it'll wear off with time.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“How long will it take?”

“Anywhere between a day to a week.”

“A WEEK?! How can I take him to Aunt Hinata like this?”

At Sakura's apologetic look, Sarada's gaze came to rest upon the small golden feline curled up and resting on the examination table. Her headache increased by ten times.

This...was not supposed to have happened.

...

One moment they were celebrating their victory over the dark cult and next she saw a beam of dark light launched in her direction. But Boruto, the always selfless and brave and the idiot decided to push her out of the way with a scream of “Sarada!”

The target was supposed to her, not him. She remembered the horror she had felt when he vanished right in front of her eyes. Like, literally vaporised.

She had scrambled on her knees and pulled his empty clothes apart to find any sign of him, the memory of Mitsuki angrily cutting down the enemies fading somewhere in the background.

Her breath was caught in her throat when she saw a lump moving around beneath his shirt and frantically pulled it apart. Only to find a pair of familiar blue eyes blinking at her.

But taking in the entire scenario, Sarada barely prevented herself from fainting. Because the pair of those blue eyes now belonged to a...cat? A cat with fur as golden as the sunshine hair of her teammate. And with a black mark of a bolt of lightning on the side.

“Boruto…?” She breathed out with something akin to fear lacing her voice.

At the sound, as if understanding that his name was being called, the small cat mewled.

So this is how team 7 returned with a cat from the mission instead of a teammate and this is how she ended up arguing with her mother to help and do something about the cat Boruto had become.

…

Sakura scooped up the golden feline in her arms and deposited her in Sarada's, loving stroking him similarly how she patted Boruto every once in a while.

“Let's keep him with us till he returns back to normal.” she said softly.

“But I don't know a thing about looking after cats!” Sarada knew she was close to freaking out, though not sure if it was because of her best friend being a cat now or because she is not very good with pets.

The hilarity of the entire situation has traumatized her.

Sensing the distress in her voice, Boruto looked up and rubbed his whiskers against her palm. It was such a soft and considerate gesture that all the stress accumulated beneath her shoulders melted.

“I’m sure you'll manage somehow sweetie. Get some books on cats or better, go to your Papa. I believe he knows a thing or two about them.”

“He does?” Sarada's questioning gaze made Sakura smile.

“Yes honey. Sasuke-kun is much more than what meets the eye.”

…

Fortunately for her, she found her father on her way to home, grocery shopping and...the only thing he seems to have bought by now were…

Tomatoes?

Sarada squinted in displeasure but for the time being, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Papa?”

“Sarada?”

The blond kitten poked his head out to look at her father for a few seconds with her dad returning the gesture before pointing his finger at the cat and asking, “I suppose...this is Boruto?

“Yes! How did you know?”

The small mysterious smile her father wore made nothing easier to decipher before the man asked another question.

“Is Naruto aware of this?”

“Yes he is. Nanadaime wanted to keep Boruto with him but Boruto as a cat is not very much different from Boruto as a human because he immediately shredded a few papers on Nanadaime's desk. So, he begged me to take care of Boruto, and to not tell Aunt Hinata about this because he thinks that she will not take the news well.” She raised her arms to signal at the small cat.

“Aa.” Sasuke nodded his head in understanding.

…

The way to the home was silent. Boruto calmly watched the people walk past them, nuzzling against her every once in a while. Sarada observed the small tail of the cat, which was lazily curled around her wrist for some reason he couldn't fathom, with Sasuke walking beside her.

“Should we buy him some cat food?” Sasuke asked randomly when they pass by a supermarket.

“Sure-wait, WHAT?! NOOOOO!”

“Why?”

“Papa! He might be a cat for now but he is Boruto! And I'm not going to feed him some cheap cat food!” Sarada yelled, horrified.

The chuckle her Papa let out made her pout angrily.

…

The scene at home was a little different with a cat roaming around. The cat Boruto was following her father on his heels like he normally did and Sasuke didn't seem much bothered about it either, so it was hilariously adorable.

Even though he had spent his entire day following her father, he never once forgot about her, coming back to nuzzle her feet time to time.

To Sarada, he looked cute at times, but as a cat, she had to admit, he looked way cuter.

When Sakura returned home back, she was greeted with her godson as a cat mewling at her in welcome. It was weird but very endearing sight but as a mother, she knew she wouldn't want Sarada to turn like this.

She had to find a way.

Picking up Boruto in her arms delicately. She announced, “I'm home!”

And instantly Sarada rushed to greet her ”Welcome home!”

She entered the house and Sasuke gave her a curt nod and a smile as his only arm stirred something in a pot using a ladle.

“Dinner's done.”

Dinner was a very out of ordinary affair with a cat occupying the family table. It was not that Boruto never had dinner with them, he obviously had dined before a couple of times but today it was very different.

…

“You sure, sweetie?” Sakura asked, not sure if it was a good idea to let Boruto sleep in Sarada's room.

“It's fine, Mom. He is just a cat.” She said, tugging her pyjama bottoms lightly and eyeing the blonde cat lazing around in her room.

“Okay.” Sakura nodded, hesitating a little. Naruto had wanted to bring Boruto with him but it looked like he was going to pull another all nighter. Sometimes, she really felt worried about her former teammate.

One of these days, I'll have to force him for a medical checkup.

She nods to herself and leaves Sarada alone.

When Sarada enters the room, Boruto is walking and stretching languishing near her bed. She crawls into her bed, removes her glasses and sets them aside on the side stand and picks Boruto up, and carefully plops him down on the bed. He immediately curls up by her side, blue eyes peering up at her.

“You look so cute with these cat ears and your whiskers.” She giggles, her fingers gently scratching behind his ears lightly.

She smiled to herself as the cat purred to her ministrations. But as much as she enjoyed this cat Boruto, she definitely missed her obnoxious team mate. Even if he was a troublemaker, she could never deny that he was the life of their team. With both her and Mitsuki depending on him to derive strength and courage at times. With him making boring missions fun. And with him being the one taking the blows meant for his teammates.

She tries to suppress the consuming guilt somewhere in the back of her mind.

Team 7 without him cannot ever be team 7.

“Return to us soon, Boruto.”

She delicately pets the cat on the back, and sleep claims her in the process.

Of all the possibilities, she would have never expected her wish to be granted so soon.

…

She wakes up because it's hotter than usual. Before her senses are capable of making deductions, she realises that a warm hold is over her waist. A familiar smell jolts her up from the sleep and she stares at the hassled blond hair that block her vision. She shifts lightly and feels a definitely human arm draped over her and her eyes fall upon the figure holding her.

Her gaze travels down and a naked male torso alarms her when she comes to the conclusion is that the only thing covering the guy's modesty was the blanket.

And then she lets out a shriek.

It's loud enough to wake the boy and startle him into rolling down the edge of the bed, dragging the sheets with him.

He was normal again, no blond fur covering his body, no large whiskers, no cat ears and no paws and no tail.

Completely normal.

There was a relieving sense of comfort warming her chest as she found herself staring at the familiar blue eyes, now human, in horror.

There was some commotion outside her room which both of them absent mindedly ignored, still staring at each other in astonishment, when the door to her room is slammed open.

“Boruto…?” Sakura whispered and Sasuke tightened his jaw, looking slightly relieved.

“You're back!” Sakura exclaimed in absolute happiness. Her eyes shined with almost unshed tears.

Though before he could respond to her worries for him, Sasuke spoke sternly.

“Boruto. You've fifteen seconds to get dressed.”

It is only then that they all remember his nakedness and he screams like a little girl, scrambling up to get away.

“Sarada! Where are my clothes?!”

“In your bag! It's on the side of the table- urgh! Don't drop the blanket, you moron!”

Of course, Boruto is back and so is the chaos.

...

So...how was it? Did you like it? I'm sorry if I wrote some cat behaviour wrong before I literally know next to nothing about pets! Apologies!

You can find my other stories here!

#borusara #borusarafics #boruto uzumaki #sarada uchiha #boruto x sarada #boruto and sarada #boruto #sarada #boruto naruto next generation #adi writes

[artificialqueens]

Something Borrowed 1/? (Witney) - Miss Bianca & jazz

Summary: This was going to be Courtney’s first visit to her childhood home in five years, and she’d made a lot of plans. Obviously, none of them had included falling into a whirlwind, summer love affair with her father’s 28-year-old fiancée, just three months before the planned wedding. But sometimes, things just happened.

Miss Bianca’s A/N: So. This is an idea I came up with after the revelation that Willam’s kind of like your dad’s second wife, who’s only a few years older than you and is really funny and likeable, even though you want to hate her. Doing this collab was jazz’s idea, and I am so fucking happy she came up with it, because it turns out we’re the dream team and we churned this out real damn fast (thank god for Google Docs). This is obviously a multichap, and we’d both love feedback. No, seriously, please, tell us what you thought.

jazz’s A/N: Miss Bianca relayed this prompt to me and I immediately died & then revived myself to write this fic, which is probably the longest thing I’ve written without devolving into pure smut!!! But just you wait LMAO <3

Courtney sat on her palms in the backseat of the cab, impatiently counting the passing mailboxes in an attempt to calm her nerves. The streets seemed cleaner here than they’d been downtown, and the carefully manicured front yards were all starting to blend together in a slightly nauseating mixture of brightly colored azaleas and overwatered grass.

Her flight had left at 6 AM, but she wasn’t the least bit tired – being a morning person really paid off. Regardless, Courtney was pretty sure she was too anxious to even consider sleep.

Coming back to Los Angeles after so much time away felt almost like a tangible step backwards. When she’d left, she’d still been practically a child, and leaving behind her father’s big, beautiful mansion and all of her friends had felt like the end of her universe.

Now, she knew that the world was a hell of a lot bigger than her pricey private school and the saltwater pool in her backyard.

Granted, she’d ended up going to a new private school in San Francisco, and then to a small, far-too-expensive liberal arts college, trading in rich high school friends for equally as rich college friends. But at least she’d graduated. With honors. And an utterly useless degree in fashion design.

Some of her friends had opted to go to grad school, and some had internships lined up. Courtney, for her part, had spent all of senior year looking for ways to avoid returning to her mom’s apartment, and after a failed job search, the answer had come in a phone call from her father – the first non-birthday call in five years – inviting her to “come home for the summer.”

And so, here she was, in the part of town where you could practically smell the wealth – in other words, right back where she’d started. She’d spent so long trying in vain to escape it all, and now found herself praying that somehow, she’d still fit in.

The driver turned the corner, and Courtney let out a breath, long and heavy.

It had been about five years since she’d last seen it, but the block she grew up on still looked almost exactly how she remembered it, which was oddly comforting.

The cab started to slow, and Courtney could see the Japanese maple tree on the next-door neighbor’s lawn, only a little bit bigger than it’d been when she was a child. She’d always wanted to hide underneath the branches, but she’d only made it into the neighbor’s lawn once without getting scolded by her mom. Her father would’ve disapproved of the trespassing.

“Right here, miss?”

“Yeah, this is it,” Courtney replied, smiling politely in the direction of the rearview mirror as the cab pulled up to the curb. She fumbled in her purse, pulling out her credit card to pay.

The dry heat hit her as soon as she stepped outside, and she was five years old again, admiring the huge house from the sidewalk: its white stucco exterior, spattered with tall windows that connected to ornate, wrought-iron balconies.

She was home.

It felt important, this moment, the first step towards reclaiming this place as her own. Maybe her father had seen the yellow car from his office window. As the afternoon sun warmed her face, she let herself imagine that he might even be waiting for her in the foyer.

The trunk of the taxi slammed shut, and Courtney pulled her gaze away from the house to see her assortment of bags resting on the pavement beside her.

“Thank you,” she said, managing to flash a final smile at the taxi driver.

“No problem.”

Courtney crouched to gather her belongings into her outstretched arms, wobbling slightly as she tried to stand and regain her balance.

“Probably should’ve just shipped it all,” she murmured. She was anxious and impatient, a thin layer of sweat forming on her lower back. “What, did I think the driver would want to carry everything inside for me? I’m such an idiot.”

After a few more moments of struggle, Courtney took a deep breath and began to shuffle awkwardly up the concrete path that lead to the front doors.

The sprinklers were on, drops of water making the grass sparkle as if someone had spilled diamonds all over the lawn. Courtney smiled, remembering how she’d run through it barefoot hundreds of times as a little girl to catch the ice cream truck before it pulled away. She never used to walk on the path, except for the few times when her father had been home.

He’d leave the door ajar, watching her from just inside the entryway, and she would put on her shoes and walk down to the street as quickly as she could, keeping her shoulders back and her chin up as young ladies like her were supposed to.

She could still picture the fond smile on his face when she paraded back to the house with a popsicle, careful not to let any of it drip onto her hands or her dress and make the smile go away.

The house towered above her now, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she took the steps one by one. She tried the door handle, finding it unlocked, and closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself.

The door swung open, and she stepped over the threshold into the huge, sunlit foyer.

As soon as she tugged the door closed behind her, the hours of build-up to this moment began to seem pointless. Her father probably wasn’t home, and even if he was, he certainly wouldn’t take the time to come down and greet her. He was, as he’d told her so many times, “a very busy man.”

She shook her head, feeling foolish and naive, and let her bags fall to the ground with an echoing thud.

After a moment, Courtney realized that there was music playing somewhere in the house. It was upbeat, and sounded like something she might hear in a club around 1 AM – not in the home of an aging, wealthy businessman in the middle of the day.

She glanced around, wondering where it was coming from, and began to notice changes that had been made to the inside of the house. The foyer was just as big and airy as it had always been, but the aesthetic was distinctly different, and definitely not at all like her father.

There were vases of blooming flowers on the side tables, a set of dark brown plush rugs in the middle of the floor, and various fluffy pillows balanced on the ottoman. As she took a step closer, Courtney noticed that one of the pillows, a pink one, had fringe. Her eyes widened in alarm.

It was all wrong.

“What in the name of…”

Her brow furrowed, Courtney blindly followed the sound of the music, walking past the ottoman and through one of the open arched doorways that led to the smaller dining room and kitchen. There were, impossibly, more flowers on the dining room table, and a trio of Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe prints taking up most of the wall directly behind it.

She turned to scan the kitchen, and nearly jumped out of her skin. There was a strange woman there, perched on a barstool at the island.

Courtney looked her up and down, her lips parting involuntarily. The woman was leaning on the counter lazily, flipping through a magazine.  One toned leg was folded underneath her body, making her already sinfully short dress creep up even higher. She was sipping on a clear cocktail – a vodka soda, Courtney thought, or maybe a gin and tonic – which, really, didn’t matter at all in the grand scheme of things, not when there were more obviously more pressing questions at hand.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

To Courtney’s annoyance, the woman didn’t seem startled at all by Courtney’s outburst. In fact, she didn’t even bother to look up from her magazine.

“Oh, hey,” she said, taking another long sip of her drink. “You must be Courtney.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m Willam,” the woman drawled by way of response, setting her glass down on the island and finally glancing over at Courtney. “I live here.”

Courtney whipped her head around to look over her shoulder, as if there might be some explanation behind her as to what the hell was going on. She dug her fingernails into her palms in an attempt to keep from legitimately losing it.

“Am I being fucking Punk’d right now?”

Willam directed her attention back to the glossy pages of Cosmopolitan. “Oh, please, girl,” she scoffed. “As if you’re that important.”

Courtney gaped at her, unable to find the words to properly express her outrage at Willam – for being so pretentious, for her apparent lack of humanity, and for daring to look like that in the middle of the goddamn kitchen on a Tuesday afternoon.

A smirk crept across Willam’s face as Courtney stared at her blankly for a moment too long before managing to speak again.

“So, you live here,” Courtney said slowly.

“Ooh, she knows how to listen,” Willam cooed sarcastically.

Courtney gritted her teeth.

“Um, how?”

Willam set down her drink, and turned her left hand around, waggling her fingers with a cocky grin plastered to her face.

The giant, princess-cut diamond caught the light, and Courtney felt the balance of the world shift slightly.  

“Is that…”

“Wedding date’s set for August,” Willam said, admiring the ring on her own finger. “Better get used to me quick, princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” Courtney snapped. “You’re like, my age! Jesus Christ, are you even fucking legal?”

“I’m 28, actually,” Willam replied. “But you’re off to a great start, flattery will get you anywhere.”

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

Courtney felt herself spiraling. Everything about her father’s new fiancée rubbed her the wrong way, from her quick retorts to her attitude to her tousled blonde hair that forced Courtney to imagine running her hands through it and making it even messier.

“Run along now,” Willam said with a noncommittal flick of her manicured fingers.

Courtney’s cheeks flushed pink. She wanted to disappear, wanted to punch Willam in the face and melt into a puddle at her feet. She wanted Willam to call her ‘princess’ again, just to hear the way it rolled off her tongue.

Leaving now, after Willam had practically ordered her to like some sort of child, felt like letting the other woman win – but Courtney didn’t think she could stand to be around her any longer, either.

Turning around with a huff, she strode out of the kitchen, her heels clicking aggressively on the tiled floor. Behind her, she thought she could hear Willam laughing.

She scooped up as many bags as she trusted herself to carry, and hurried up the impressive, dark-paneled staircase, wanting to put as much distance in between herself and Willam as possible. The sound of Willam’s music faded as Courtney reached the top and made her way down the hall to her right until she reached her old bedroom.

There was still a hook screwed into the top of the door, but the sign that had previously hung there, labeling it “Courtney’s Kingdom”, was absent. She ran a gentle hand over the wood, the scratch marks from the edge of the sign still present, as if it had been removed recently.

“Willam,” she muttered angrily.

She pushed her way into her room, relieved to see that Willam hadn’t totally remodeled in there as well. Her collection of suitcases was scattered on the floor, having shipped successfully earlier that week, the light blue print matching that of her other bags.

Dropping her things on the floor, Courtney walked over to the bed and sat down with a sigh. She could feel the beginnings of a headache forming in her temples, and she rubbed at them in a futile attempt dispel it.

She wished her father were home to clear everything up, maybe even reveal that “It’s all just a misunderstanding, Courtney, Willam’s actually just a cheap hooker who overstayed her welcome and stole some jewelry.”

If she couldn’t deal with the issue at hand right now, though, Courtney figured she could at least distract herself by unpacking some of her things. As she remembered, her closet had lots of room to fill up.

Bending down to grab a suitcase, she dragged it over to the closet with difficulty. The door slid open, and Courtney’s newly regained serenity shot straight out the window.

The bottom of the closet was covered with shoes. And not just any shoes – expensive designer pumps, by the looks of them, none of which belonged to her. She started to count the red bottoms, and stopped after reaching ten, her blood boiling. She closed the closet door as quickly as she could, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the hot tears threatening to break the surface back down.

When Courtney got frustrated, her body’s natural reaction was to cry, and she hated it, hated how it made her seem irrational and overly sensitive.

It just wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It’s not that she wasn’t used to her father bringing girls home after her parents’ divorce. It was the opposite, really: there were the Sarahs and the Samanthas, the Heathers and the Haileys, each of them sauntering in and out of Courtney’s early life in quick succession.

She’d since reasoned that her father wasn’t the type to settle down, and had chosen instead to pay little mind to the semi-annual rotation of girlfriends during the few weekends she actually got to spend at her father’s house thanks to the joint custody agreement in place.

They’d all tried to relate to Courtney, too, which was hilarious and infuriating in its own right. She was nice about it, let each woman believe that they could be the one for her father, but Courtney knew better. They’d be gone by the end of the month, and Courtney could go back to deepening her tan, calling her childhood best friend Alaska over to watch trashy reality TV and to paint each other’s nails.

But now there was Willam, and she had a shiny rock on her ring finger, and Courtney didn’t know how to cope with that.

She violently shoved handfuls of underwear from her luggage into the antique bureau she’d loved so much growing up, taking out her irritation on the tiny lacy garments and mismatched socks.

When was her father planning on telling her, anyway? Had he hoped that Courtney would just waltz right in and figure it out for herself, that she’d think it was a cute surprise? She nearly snorted aloud. Her father was more than twice Willam’s age.

Her stomach churned, and she tried to determine if she was most mad at her father, for putting her in this godawful situation;his new fiancée, for her stupid outfit and face and voice;or herself, for seemingly being unable to get Willam out of her head, no matter how hard she tried.

With no more underwear left to unpack, Courtney found herself staring down her closet door, her hands fidgeting in her lap. There had to be something she could do, some way to regain control over the situation, shift the balance of power at least a little.

After a few more long moments of indecisiveness, Courtney tentatively returned to her closet. She had to make at least one room in the house entirely her own. The shoes had to go.

With renewed determination, Courtney started to gather the shoes, picking up as many pairs as she could, until her arms were full. She got to her feet, shuffled over to the door, and bumped it open with her hip. The master bedroom was on the opposite side of the house, which meant Courtney had to make her way down the long hall and past the stairs, hoping that Willam wouldn’t hear her moving around and come up to bother her.

Finally, Courtney reached the paneled wood door, and dumped the entire armful of shoes unceremoniously in front. There was a loud clattering noise as the pumps hit the floor, and Courtney grinned victoriously. She brushed her hands off on her jeans, surveying the scene.

Struck with inspiration, she leaned over, plucking a pair of clear, blue and red plastic Louboutins from the heap. Pink and silver sparkles caught her eye, and she reached further, grabbing that pair as well. It wasn’t like Willam didn’t have a few sets to spare, Courtney reasoned. Satisfied with herself, she stood and turned on her heel, marching back down the hall to her room.

She didn’t want – no, she refused – to allow some glorified stripper with a superiority complex ruin her entire summer, or her chances at reconnecting with her father.

Willam might be living in the house now, but it sure as hell wasn’t her home. In fact, Courtney was positive that she wouldn’t even be there another month, much less till the wedding.

She slammed the bedroom door shut behind her, and decided with a burst of conviction that she would still reclaim the house as her own, whether Willam was there to distract her or not.

She would do what she pleased, and Willam could go fuck herself.

And what Courtney wanted right now, more than anything, was to dig out her bathing suit, go lay by the pool, and hopefully avoid having to interact with her father’s new fiancée for a few hours. She deserved at least that much.

Fifteen minutes later, Courtney was striding out the back doors and towards the pool in her red bikini and one of the stolen pairs of Willam’s Louboutins, her light hair pulled messily into a topknot.

She felt like a model, camera-ready and confident. It was almost like being sixteen again, getting ready to lay out at the pool with Alaska and Adore, except now, the tables were turned: she was prettier, but far less happy.  

While her father had worked, holed up in his office alongside stacks of legal documents and bills, Courtney had spent most of her free time on visiting weekends out here. She’d quickly learned to enjoy her own company, which was fine by her. It wasn’t as if teenage Courtney had wanted anything to do with the man who’d cheated on her mom over and over, and then denied it so convincingly that her mom had thought it was all in her head.

She’d gained some distance from her emotions surrounding that particular situation as the years passed, and so it wasn’t too much of a struggle to decide to give her father another chance. He might’ve changed, she figured – and there was always the possibility that her perception of what had happened between her parents was distorted.

And anyways, even if her father was just as bad as she remembered, it couldn’t hurt to secure her cut of his wealth in the will.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Willam’s voice pulled Courtney out of her thoughts, and she stopped in her tracks, unable to believe her terrible luck.  

The other woman was stretched out on one of the long chairs beside the pool, round sunglasses covering most of her face. She’d discarded the dress from earlier, exchanging it for what had to be the skimpiest bikini Courtney had ever seen – not that she was staring, or anything.

It was just that the tanning oil was making Willam’s flat stomach and the tops of her breasts glisten so temptingly, and she couldn’t seem to stop looking.

Willam turned, lowering her shades and surveying Courtney as if she were an item with a price tag, like a dress that she was considering trying on. Courtney blushed, feeling the sudden urge to cover up under her scrutiny, and Willam’s lips tilted upwards in a smirk.

“Love the shoes,” she commented, meeting Courtney’s gaze. “I have great taste, don’t I?”

“I dunno,” Courtney said. She glanced down at her feet. “I think they’re kinda tacky.”

Willam’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Courtney pumped her fist internally at her success in finally getting a reaction out of the other woman.

“It’s a pool party shoe,” she said dismissively. “Not my best.”

Rolling her eyes, Courtney headed for her favorite of the chairs by the pool – thankfully, the one farthest away from Willam. She swore she could feel Willam watching her in that same commodifying way as she walked past, which was surprisingly exhilarating.

With some effort and a lot of willpower, Courtney managed to avoid looking back at Willam as she relaxed into the chair. They weren’t exactly seated near each other, but Courtney still felt hyper-aware of her presence. It was as if she was finely tuned to pick up on the sounds of Willam’s breathing, the subtle way she shifted her weight on the chair.

So, when the other woman suddenly began to make a lot more noise, Courtney couldn’t help but turn her head to see what was going on. Willam had stood up, and was tying her hair back into a low ponytail, heading over towards the edge of the pool.

Without meaning to, Courtney found herself following Willam with her eyes, like in one of those cliched movie scenes where the camera panned up over the perfect body of the female lead. She might as well be naked, Courtney thought. Which wasn’t a terrible mental image, she had to admit. Particularly since she was now unable to get the picture out of her head.

“It’s rude to stare,” Willam announced as she sat down, legs dangling over the edge of the pool. “I usually charge money for that.”

Courtney nearly choked on air. Had she really been that obvious?

“Cat got your tongue, sweetie?” Willam looked over her shoulder, her mocking smile taunting Courtney.

“I probably still have a dollar or two left in my phone case,” Courtney finally managed to say. “Isn’t that your usual going rate?”

The smile widened into a more genuine grin, and Willam chuckled, swinging her feet so water splashed up her legs. She had nice teeth, Courtney noted. And a nice smile, too – the kind that made you want to take notice, study her for a really long time.

Clearing her throat, Courtney looked down at her hands. For a second there, she could almost see why her father must’ve been drawn to Willam in the first place.

“Yeah, by the way, I used some of your closet space,” Willam commented. “Forgot to mention that.”

“Oh, I saw.”

“I mean, it’s all my closet space, if you wanna get official about it,” she added after a moment, a cocky tilt to her head. “Cause, y’know… my house.”

“But that’s my room,” Courtney argued, frowning. Whatever glimmer of likeability she thought she’d seen from Willam was quickly vanishing, replaced by the same intense irritation that had already ruined her day once.

“Sure, for now.”

“What the fuck is that, some kind of threat?”

“Ooh, language,” Willam replied, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

“You’re such a bitch,” Courtney burst out.

“You kiss your daddy with that mouth?”

Courtney groaned. She crossed her arms, looking away pointedly.

Willam chuckled again, splashing water out of the pool. Courtney clenched her jaw. Why did Willam insist on being so difficult? It was like she’d been placed on the planet specifically to drive Courtney up the wall.

Courtney prided herself on her ability to get along with almost anyone. The problem here was clearly on Willam’s side, not on hers. She was a perfectly nice person – it wasn’t her fault that Willam had no manners, no common courtesy, and seemed to get a kick out of being an utter pain in the ass.

“You know, as soon as my dad gets home, I’m gonna tell him exactly what kind of person you really are,” Courtney called, still refusing to look at Willam.

“And what kinda person is that, kitten?”

“A bad one,” Courtney replied quickly, flinching slightly at the lame response.

“Ooh, savage,” Willam snorted.

“And don’t call me that!”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Courtney huffed out a sigh, feeling like a pouty child with her arms crossed and her lower lip sticking out.

“You can tell your dad everything at family dinner tonight,” Willam added. “Not that it’ll change anything. Dave knew he wasn’t proposing to America’s sweetheart.”

“Wait, family dinner?”

—–

“So, how are you girls getting along?” Dave asked finally, attempting to break through the uncomfortable silence that filled the dining room.

Courtney looked up from her plate to see Willam smirking around a forkful of salad across the table. She opened her mouth, ready to inform her father of what a nightmare Willam really was, and closed it again.

“Um, fine,” she said instead, watching Willam’s eyebrows raise in amusement. She didn’t know what compelled her to lie, but suspected that Willam had known all along that she wouldn’t go through with it.

“Courtney borrowed a pair of my shoes,” Willam added.

“Oh, how… nice,” Dave said.

The room quickly fell into silence again, disturbed only by the irritatingly loud sounds of Dave occasionally clearing his throat and of Willam chewing.

Courtney wanted to scream.

Nothing about today was turning out how she’d planned. The reunion with her father that she’d hyped up so much in her head had been lackluster at best, and painfully awkward at worst. And Willam’s interruption of their shaky conversation – by way of an attention-grabbing entrance via the staircase – had made it just that much less satisfying.

Dave, in his typical way, had vanished upstairs to his office as soon as possible, leaving Courtney stuck downstairs with Willam once again. When the hired chef had arrived to make dinner, Courtney had volunteered to help immediately, just to avoid having to interact with her.

And now, here she was, stuck sitting right across from the other woman in the formal dining room, with nothing to do aside from stare at her and then pretend that she hadn’t been whenever Willam made eye contact.

“So, um, dad,” Courtney finally spoke up, desperate to shift the atmosphere. “How did you two meet? What’s the story here?”

“Internet,” Willam said, before Dave could respond.

“Yes, online,” Dave added with a nod.

“Oh, did you click one of those ads to chat with ‘hot young singles in your area’?” Courtney asked, her tone biting as she glared at Willam.

“No, it was one of those dating websites,” Dave said. “She found me, she seemed interested.”

“Oh, I’m sure she did,” Courtney murmured.

“We met up, and, well, the rest is history,” he finished.

“He’s just my kinda man,” Willam added, a smile that Courtney immediately recognized as false on her face as she batted her eyelashes at Dave. “Mature sort of gentleman, comfortable. Generous.”  

Courtney nearly laughed out loud at ‘generous.’ In the 40 years her father had been making money, she was positive that no one had ever used that particular word to describe him.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart,” Dave replied, patting her hand.

“She really is,” Courtney agreed, rolling her eyes.

It was so painfully obvious that this was all a game to Willam. If she played her part correctly, she’d get rewarded with gifts and credit cards, and eventually, the biggest cut in the will. Courtney couldn’t believe that her father was falling for it.

“How was work today, babe?” Willam directed at her fiancé, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a less risky direction.

“Could’ve been better,” Dave said, shaking his head. “We’re trying to close on this deal, but getting through all the paperwork has been such a hassle…”

Almost immediately, Courtney stopped paying attention, an old habit that had apparently remained in place over the years. Willam, on her end, was nodding and blinking vapidly at him, still pretending to be engaged.

And the act was believable, too. If Courtney hadn’t felt the cool shoe sliding slowly up her thigh, she might’ve even thought that Willam truly was invested in trade secrets and company policy.

She froze, dropping her fork in surprise. Willam refused to acknowledge her, still playing the role of doting fiancée as her heel crept higher up Courtney’s leg. She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks again and she swallowed hard, trying not to squirm in her seat, a task that was easier said than done. She squeezed her thighs together, frustrated at how her body was betraying her, reacting to Willam’s touch so eagerly.  

“Willam!” she hissed, and Willam’s gaze snapped over to meet hers. The foot promptly withdrew.

Oops, Willam mouthed with a shrug.

Courtney gaped at her, at a total loss for words. She glanced over at her father, who thankfully seemed to have missed the entire exchange.

She could still feel the ghost of Willam’s contact buzzing on her skin, and when Willam glanced at her again, she couldn’t help but bite her lip.

Dave was still rambling about something or other, and Willam kept nodding and watching him, her full lips parted. The room felt very hot all of a sudden, and Courtney needed air.

“Can I please be excused?” Courtney croaked.

Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her chair out from the table and stood abruptly, wadding up the napkin on her lap in a ball and tossing it by her half-eaten plate of food.

Fleeing to the kitchen, she rested her arms on the edge of the sink, turning the water on cold and splashing some on her face. Her cheeks felt a little less warm, but it did nothing to help the heat still twisting low in her stomach. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and turned off the water.

“You’re a mess,” said Willam. Courtney jumped, spinning around to see the other woman leaning casually against the counter behind her.

“Are you stalking me or something?” Courtney demanded, her heart rate picking up again. “What the hell was that back there?”

“Told you, it was an accident,” Willam said with a shrug.

“That’s a really big fucking accident.”

“Girl, don’t pretend you didn’t like it.” Willam pushed herself off the counter, taking a step towards Courtney. “I could see you getting all flustered. You ain’t subtle.”

Courtney’s back was to the sink now as Willam moved even closer, into her space. Courtney sputtered, wanting to deny Willam’s claims, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Oh my god, what is she doing? Courtney’s mind was moving at a mile a minute. She can’t be – but what if she is?

Willam was close enough that Courtney could smell her perfume, and she attempted to steady her breathing, hoping that maybe Willam wouldn’t notice how affected she was. There were a million reasons for Courtney to stop this in its tracks right now, a million reasons to push Willam away or slap her in the face. But the cut of Willam’s dress was low, and the line of her collarbone was soft and graceful, and Courtney couldn’t bring herself to consider any one of those reasons.

Impossibly, Willam kept closing in, and Courtney had nowhere to go, trapped by the cool marble of the countertop. And honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d want to go anywhere, even if she could.

Willam stopped, so close that Courtney could almost feel her body heat radiating off her in waves. She exhaled, her breath ghosting over Courtney’s lips, and Courtney reached out on instinct, her hand landing on Willam’s hip.

The corners of Willam’s mouth turned up into a wry smile.

“Knew it,” she murmured.

As quickly as Willam had advanced, she backed away. Turning, she left the kitchen, throwing one last knowing smirk Courtney’s way as she walked through the archway.

Courtney’s knees felt weak, and she gripped the edge of the counter behind her for support, trying to catch her breath. She’d been so sure Willam was going to kiss her, and she’d done nothing at all to stop it.

Courtney stared blankly into the empty space where Willam had been until just a moment ago.

The sound of Willam’s laughter, loud and emphatic, carried in from the dining room. Courtney closed her eyes, trying to figure out what her father could’ve said to evoke that kind of reaction. She wondered if she could make Willam laugh like that, too.

It hadn’t even been a full day, and all of Courtney’s plans for her summer were already in pieces at her feet. She had no idea what to make of Willam or how to handle her, and there was no evidence that it was going to get any easier.

There was only the hum of the refrigerator, the thumping in Courtney’s chest, and the realization that she was totally, completely fucked.

#willam belli #courtney act #witney #cisgirl au #humor #angst #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #something borrowed #jazz #miss bianca #rpdr fanfiction #lesbian au

[hongbab]

Teach me how to love - He said loving Jaehwan was more futile than longing for someone who was long dead. And he was probably right. (Ken/Hyuk, pg-13, 6143 w)

a/n: written for this prompt. i don’t know if the person who requested this story will see this, but if you do, i’m so sorry for taking so long. writer’s block is a bitch. life is a bitch. and i’m awfully sorry :(

recommended song: paramore - the only exception

A shrill sound cuts through the white noise inside Jaehwan's ears, jolting him out of his state of lingering between sleep and consciousness. He hears grumbling from behind his back, the mattress creaking under someone's weight, and then a nasal, hoarse voice says, "Yes? No, I was asleep. Yeah. Yeah, I'm just gonna... ugh. Give me twenty minutes."

Jaehwan cracks his eyes open, the morning sunlight filtering through his blackout curtains warming up his skin, the blanket thrown over his waist becoming completely unnecessary.

The weight behind him shifts again and Jaehwan turns around slowly, rubbing at his eyes with a fist. There is a boy—Taekwoon, if his memory hasn't failed him—sitting on the edge of his mattress with his head bowed between broad shoulders, the sight of the pink scratches covering the pale skin of his back making Jaehwan blush. Taekwoon stands up lazily, wide hips making a circular motion as he stretches, and his body is perfect. Perfectly intact, too, as it seems, contrary to how sore Jaehwan feels all over, the smallest movement of his legs making him moan softly.

When Taekwoon turns around, he’s already dressed, tapping at his pockets to see if he’s got all his stuff and then he blinks up at Jaehwan almost shyly, scratching the back of his head, messing up his hair even more.

“I’ve got to go,” he murmurs, averting his eyes for a second.

There’s a beat, a pause, and Jaehwan tries to think of something to say, but feels like ‘okay’ would sound awkward. Taekwoon takes action instead of him, placing a hand on the mattress to support himself as he leans to Jaehwan, pecking his cheek fleetingly before he pulls away.

“Talk to you later,” he says, and then he’s standing in front of the front door, unlocking it and stepping out onto the corridor.

Jaehwan rolls on his stomach, feeling his pulse all over his body, trying to decide if his headache is worse than the pain in his hips. He decides then that it doesn’t matter, because Taekwoon was handsome and he kissed Jaehwan's cheek, and he almost feels sorry they aren’t going to talk ever again.

Almost.

*

Now, Jaehwan is generally a bubbly guy, at least in his very, very small circle of friends. This, however, is an unfamiliar place, a new club in town, and Hakyeon is tugging him along by the wrist, pulling him through the mass of people talking and drinking by the outdoor dance floor.

“Hakyeon, I’m too sober for this!” Jaehwan yells above the pounding music. “I’ve only had one beer!”

“I know!” Hakyeon shouts and makes a U-turn for the counter. “I’m going to get you something!”

“Okay, but— Hakyeon!” Jaehwan yanks Hakyeon back and Hakyeon stops in front of him. “I’m going to wait for you there.” He points at a nearby bench.

Hakyeon nods and in the next moment, he disappears between the tens or hundreds of bodies, the sight of which already makes Jaehwan feel dizzy.

He starts walking towards the bench, but then someone grabs his arm a little roughly, pulling him to the side.

“Jaehwan-ah!”

There are now arms around him and he is pulled into a tight hug, the familiar scent of a musky perfume mixing with the pungent smell of whiskey reaching his nose. When the man lets go of him, Jaehwan is greeted by small teeth in a similarly small, smiling mouth, the sleepy eyes just above the big nose crinkling at the sides.

“Wonshik,” Jaehwan says and forces a smile back.

“How are you?” Wonshik asks, winding an arm around Jaehwan's shoulders to tuck him into his side. “It’s been ages! Are you alone? Would you like to drink something?”

That’s Wonshik for you, Wonshik at his happiest. The boy is full of love and affection, quite stiflingly so, and he likes to show it whenever he drinks himself brave enough. Even now, he looks at Jaehwan with sparkling eyes and Jaehwan feels uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze, a memory of Wonshik looking at him like this and telling him, ‘I love you, please, let me love you, Jaehwan, I would give you everything’ flashing through his mind.

“Sorry, I’m just too happy to see you around,” Wonshik laughs, rubbing Jaehwan's shoulder with his thumb as he looks up at the guys standing around them. “I don’t think you guys have met before. This is Sungwoon, Jongin, and Sanghyuk. Guys, this is Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan tries not to grimace as Sungwoon says hi and Jongin waves at him, Sanghyuk, the tallest (and youngest-looking—is he even allowed in this club?) smiling welcomingly.

“So, what would you like to drink?” Wonshik asks, his tongue moving a bit slowly.

“I’m, uh,” Jaehwan mumbles and wiggles out from under Wonshik's arm. “Hakyeon's bringing me something, so I… I told him I’d be waiting for him there, so… see you around!”

And before Wonshik could make him stay, he makes a beeline for the bench, hiding behind the people and trying to be as small as he can when he sits down, fishing his phone out of his pocket just to look busy, so no one will pester him.

But obviously—it is obvious, because it happens to Jaehwan way too often—, tipsy people don't understand this form of metacommunication, so when someone asks, 'May I?' as their butt hovers above the other end of the bench, Jaehwan only heaves a frustrated sigh.

"Um, I know you don't owe me an answer, but..." Jaehwan looks up at the guy sitting next to him, his eyes settling on the face of one of Wonshik's friends', Sanghyuk's. "Are you possibly upset because of Wonshik?"

It takes him some time to process the question and the light coming from his phone screen dims while Jaehwan thinks.

"No," he says. "I'm really waiting for Hakyeon to bring me my drink."

"Hakyeon, you say?" Sanghyuk asks and fidgets on the bench as if he wants to scoot closer (probably to hear Jaehwan better over the music), but can't decide whether that would be appropriate. "Are we talking about Cha Hakyeon? Average height, tanned skin, about 27 years old?"

"Yeah," Jaehwan replies, furrowing his brow. "Do you know him?"

"Ah," Sanghyuk says and turns the beer bottle around in his grip. "He used to date my sister."

"Oh," Jaehwan answers and looks down at his feet drawing circles into the dirt.

"I think you might have to buy your own drink though."

When Jaehwan glances up, Sanghyuk is looking into the general direction of the counter, in front of which Hakyeon now crosses arms with a girl, both of them downing their shots at the same time. When they put the shot glasses back on the counter, Hakyeon reaches out almost tentatively, tucking a lock of hair behind the girl's ear, at which she smiles shyly. Jaehwan snorts at the scene.

"You can have this one, if you'd like," Sanghyuk says and Jaehwan turns to him, seeing the almost full bottle of beer in Sanghyuk's hand held out to him. He blinks back up at Sanghyuk, and the boy, as if receiving some kind of revelation from the heavens, nods to himself and takes a tissue out of his jeans' pocket to wipe the mouth of the bottle. "No bacteria, I promise."

He's grinning and he looks like a kitten mixed with a bear cub, the corners of his lips curving upwards and his fleshy nose flattening out in the middle of his face. Jaehwan really can't say no to cute things.

He takes the bottle and drinks a sip, a smile slowly making its way on his face until he’s beaming at the bottle in his hands.

“Thanks,” he says, and he sees from the corner of his eye how Sanghyuk's eyes crinkle even more.

Jaehwan puts the beer bottle between the two off them on the bench and offers it to Sanghyuk, the two of them sharing it in the end, Sanghyuk talking about how he knows Wonshik from the university they both attend.

“And how do you know him?” Sanghyuk asks, drinking from the beer afterwards.

Jaehwan takes the bottle from Sanghyuk and gulps down half of what’s left in it at once.

How did he and Wonshik meet? It’s not a very exciting story, but a rather painful one still, as he and Wonshik first ran into each other at a different club, intoxicated and disgustingly gone, ending up making out in a toilet stall after only a few minutes of dancing. Wonshik then slept at Jaehwan's and Jaehwan woke up sated the next morning (well, okay, noon), only to find Wonshik staring at him in the filtered sunlight. He put a hand on Jaehwan's cheek gently, caressing it with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” he said and that made Jaehwan blush. “Say, would you go on a date with me?”

Jaehwan said he’d need to think and Wonshik left it at that at the time, but he kept texting Jaehwan and they kept running into each other at the club, always ending up in bed together until Wonshik knew exactly where to caress him and how to hold him for Jaehwan to feel true bliss. And Wonshik kept asking him out, too, until he was kneeling in front of Jaehwan with tears in his eyes and couldn’t understand that Jaehwan didn’t feel anything—he was empty.

“We met somewhere in town,” Jaehwan replies to Sanghyuk's question now and hands the bottle over to him.

There’s silence between them for a few moments, but then Sanghyuk starts talking about the music surrounding them; he asks Jaehwan about his favourite band and asks him to type their name into the notes on his phone so he can listen to them at home. He asks a lot of questions and Jaehwan finds it easy to converse with him—to just answer him without having to rack his brains to come up with topics or to find an excuse to leave. Sanghyuk eventually slides closer to him on the bench and Jaehwan catches it from the corner of his eye that Sanghyuk rubs his palm against his thigh, probably to wipe off the sweat.

Jaehwan leaves the club a little after 2 a.m., leaving Hakyeon behind to snog with that girl under a tree, and he’s still half sober.

There is a strange feeling in his stomach though, one that reaches his chest and he puts a hand just a little left of his sternum to try and soothe the ache that makes him smile to himself in the taxi, because it hurts, but it’s good. And it’s scary.

*

Jaehwan is quite glad the night is coming to a close, the clock striking midnight as he wipes the dirt off the counter just in front of the cash registers.

There were way too many guests at the restaurant tonight considering how it was only a regular Wednesday with no particular events held in town, but, maybe it's just because next week brings the start of the new semester and college students wanted to spend the last week of their summer holiday as deliriously as possible. That also meant there were a lot of drunk students loitering around the restaurant all night, asking for crazy burger creations that the place wasn't even supposed to make for them. Secret menu items—they asked for those as if a secret menu existed at any of the restaurants in the entire fast food chain.

Jaehwan sighs deeply and it gets cut off by the sound of the automatic door sliding apart, the whoosh of it followed by a cool breeze.

"Sorry, we're closing," Jaehwan says in a hoarse, tired voice, not even looking up from the task at hand, cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the newcomer says.

The tone makes something click inside Jaehwan's brain, the familiarity making him frown as he looks up. In front of him, Sanghyuk is grinning widely, elbowing on the counter with one of his earbuds in his right ear, hair tucked under a white baseball cap.

"Sanghyuk," Jaehwan breathes, and promptly blushes.

He and Sanghyuk have been texting each other the past two weeks, since they met at the club, but Jaehwan has never once mentioned where he works... mostly because he was ashamed to admit all he was good at was making hamburgers.

"What are you doing here?" Jaehwan mumbles, resuming cleaning the counter.

"Well, Wonshik told me where you work at," Sanghyuk says and he looks sheepish, as if he possessed information he wasn't supposed to. "And, I'm pretty thirsty, too."

"I can get you some cola if you want," Jaehwan says and presents a paper cup. "But we really are closing, so..."

"I know," Sanghyuk replies. "That's why I chose to come at this time. I wouldn't say no to the cola though."

Jaehwan raises his eyebrows as he steps to the tap to get Sanghyuk some of the beverage, placing a plastic cap on the cup and stabbing a straw through it before he hands it over to the boy. Sanghyuk fishes some bank notes out of his back pocket, but Jaehwan shakes his head.

"I've already closed the cash register," he replies. "But, seriously, why are you here?"

"I hoped we could talk some," Sanghyuk says, sipping his cola. "You said you were too busy all the time, so I thought, if only after work we could talk a little, that would be great. I hope you don't think this is... you know, too much."

"Ah," Jaehwan says, and he's half flattered, half embarrassed, but mostly feels uncomfortable. "I still have a lot to do and then I need to catch my bus."

"I can give you a lift," Sanghyuk answers. "And I can wait until you finish. Promise I won't try to hinder you."

He looks truly hopeful and the smile on his kitten lips is a bit pleading and Jaehwan— he's still too soft for cute things.

"Okay," he nods. "You can wait for me there if you'd like, but it's going to take at least half an hour more."

"Great," Sanghyuk grins and takes his cup to the table Jaehwan pointed at just now.

Sanghyuk asks him about traffic today and Jaehwan finds himself complaining a tad too easily—he isn't used to doing that, because no one really cares about his complaints, about the things that bother him. Only Hakyeon ever listens, but even Hakyeon gets bored of it too quickly, talking about his own problems as soon as Jaehwan takes a breath to continue. But Sanghyuk is sitting by the table, sipping his cola and not saying more than a few words of agreement and making indignant noises at the most outrageous parts (like when a guy asked Jaehwan to give him an empty bun in lunch deal at 6 o'clock). Jaehwan blinks up at him every now and then to see if Sanghyuk is really paying attention and finds the boy following him with his gaze, curiosity showing on his face. Jaehwan dearly hopes it's not fake.

When Jaehwan thuds down opposite Sanghyuk with his stomach rumbling loudly and a cold cheeseburger meant to have been thrown away already because it's been on the rack for over an hour in his hands, the only lamps turned on are the ones leading the way towards the private exit.

"Mind if I eat this real quick?" he asks tiredly.

"'Course not," Sanghyuk shakes his head and that's all Jaehwan needs to unwrap the burger and bite off half of it in one go.

Sanghyuk must see him struggling with the dry bun in his mouth, because he pushes the paper cup closer to Jaehwan on the table and when Jaehwan glances up at him questioningly, he smiles encouragingly. After Jaehwan drinks from the cola, he puts it down on the table and forgets his hand on it, Sanghyuk's hand covering his as he tries to take it back, both of them yanking their hands back as if they touched hot metal.

"Sorry," Sanghyuk mutters and Jaehwan only blinks down at his cheeseburger, biting into it and trying not to suffocate from it as he feels his fingers tingling.

"What are you listening to?" Jaehwan asks instead as soon as he can speak between two bites.

"Oh, this?" Sanghyuk points at his earphone and takes the other half of it from his lap, reaching over the table to put it into Jaehwan's left ear.

Jaehwan's eyes go wide immediately, the song flowing through his nerves like the best surprise he's ever received.

"This— this is—"

"You said it was your favourite," Sanghyuk laughs. "It's honestly so good I can't stop listening to it, I have it on loop!"

"You remembered?" Jaehwan asks, feeling the tips of his ears heating up and most probably going crimson.

"Why else would I have asked if not so that I could listen to it?" Sanghyuk asks, holding up his palms.

Jaehwan quickly gathers his jaw from the floor and stuffs the last morsels of his burger into his mouth in order to hide his wonderment.

No one before Sanghyuk had asked him about his favourite song so they could listen to it on loop.

Sanghyuk takes him home in his old, rusty Suzuki, the radio crackling in the background as they listen to a show called 'Greatest Hits of the 1980's'. They don't talk much, but Sanghyuk still thanks Jaehwan for the cola when he pulls up to Jaehwan's apartment building, tells him he was glad they could meet if only for such a short time.

"Sorry for asking Wonshik about where you worked," he says shyly. "I didn't really mean to; I was just wondering where you worked at and he told me. And he also told me that you were working in the night shift tonight. I didn't mean to come off as a stalker."

"No, I'm—" Jaehwan smiles, and it's weak, he can feel it, "well, thank you for taking me home."

Sanghyuk nods. "I hope we can meet again soon."

"Yeah, let's keep in touch," Jaehwan replies and opens the door, scrambles to get out of the small space.

"Good night, Jaehwan," Sanghyuk says, his eyes shining brightly in the light of the dashboard.

"Good night, Sanghyuk."

Jaehwan closes the car door, and walks to the building, typing in his code and walking up the steps. His heart never usually beats this fast after climbing up those three flights of stairs to his front door.

*

The breakdown comes on a Friday evening, finding Jaehwan with shaky limbs, stomach cramps, and unshed tears prickling his eyes as he tries to drink up as much air as he can, his chest heavy with the weight of his panic attack. He curls up on his bed, trying to suppress his noises by pressing a pillow on his face.

Usually it would be Hakyeon he'd turn to whenever he feels anxious, but he hasn't mentioned Sanghyuk to Hakyeon as if Sanghyuk was a spell that disappeared if Jaehwan admitted he existed.

It was indeed Sanghyuk that has caused him to struggle in bed, feeling sick to his stomach, his tears stinging his eyes. He didn't say anything wrong, nor did he force Jaehwan to do anything; all he did was ask Jaehwan if he would like to go out with him to the park in the middle of town with a bottle of wine, to look at the stars. 'I read there'd be some shooting stars; I bet it's going to be pretty', he said, and it took Jaehwan more than a day to finally say yes, to step out of his comfort zone, even if he felt more than just a little jittery about it.

Now, though, with his crisp, freshly washed jeans sitting on his hips unbuttoned, the clock ticking incessantly on the wall and closing in on 9 p.m., Jaehwan thinks this is a very, very bad idea.

What does Sanghyuk want from him? What does he want from Sanghyuk? Do either of them even want anything from the other? Jaehwan doesn't do relationships, he can't do relationships, he's a mess, he can't do this, he—

He takes a few deep breaths, the pillow on his face still smelling a bit of Hakyeon's cologne from the last time he slept over, and that calms Jaehwan's nerves, makes breathing easier. He's going to do this, because he has to. He's a grown man and Sanghyuk probably only wants to be friends. He's too good to want to be anything but friends with someone as rotten as Jaehwan.

He stands up from the bed with legs feeling like jelly, finishes buttoning his jeans and staggers into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, trying to make the redness of the whites of his eyes disappear. His hair looks good (a little overdone), his half-naked body—not so: too skinny, but it's decent for stargazing because you do that with your eyes and those still work, even if they're a little red right now.

With the corkscrew in his jacket pocket (Sanghyuk said he'd bring the wine), Jaehwan sighs at his now fully clad reflection, the perfume behind his ears smelling too strong, but, this is not a date. He shouldn't be worried about scaring Sanghyuk away with the too thick cloud of perfume around him. Fuck his twisted logic.

Sanghyuk pulls up by the curb in front of Jaehwan's apartment building a few minutes later, grinning at Jaehwan through the window as he unlocks the door for him.

"Hey," he greets Jaehwan happily, and Jaehwan forces a smile.

The air is thick inside the car from Sanghyuk's perfume and, oh, it smells very nice, but it's also too much, just like Jaehwan's.

Jaehwan's limbs go cold. This might be a fucking date.

"Do you know that hill on the Western side of the park?" Sanghyuk asks, turning the volume lower on some awful radio music. "The one where that old ass oak stands?"

"Yeah," Jaehwan nods. "Is that where we're going?"

"Mm," Sanghyuk murmurs in assent. "That's where it's going to be the most visible."

"Just how many times have you watched shooting stars from the top of the hill?" Jaehwan asks jokingly and his stomach churns at how jealous he sounded. This doesn't need to be special, he can't be special enough to Sanghyuk and his stupid brain needs to understand that.

"I like the stars," Sanghyuk laughs and Jaehwan makes a noise similar to a chuckle, though it wasn't a real answer.

Sanghyuk parks the car by the gate and digs into the trunk of his car, fishing out a bottle of sweet red wine and a baby blue blanket.

“Thought this might come in handy,” Sanghyuk says, holding up the blanket while his head is still deep inside the trunk. “Hmm, I thought I brought plastic cups…”

“Wine is best drunk out of a wine glass or straight from the bottle,” Jaehwan says. “On a second thought… it’s best drunk straight from the bottle.”

Sanghyuk giggles and Jaehwan's heartrate doubles at that, only for the precious organ to skip a beat when Sanghyuk hits his head into the trunk lid and lets out a quiet “ow”.

“Are you okay?” Jaehwan asks, almost stuttering into it.

“Fine,” Sanghyuk murmurs, scratching his head as he emerges. He slams the lid closed angrily and the sound makes Jaehwan wince, but Sanghyuk doesn’t notice it. Thank God.

They walk through the pathway leading to the hill in silence, darkness engulfing them between two lamp posts. Once on top of the hill, Sanghyuk unfolds the blanket and places it on the ground, sitting down with the bottle between his legs.

“Did you bring the corkscrew?” he asks, blinking up at Jaehwan.

He looks even more handsome in the moonlight, the stars shining in his eyes, and Jaehwan feels speechless, so he only hands the corkscrew over to Sanghyuk, sitting down next to him.

The bottle gets passed between them and the less wine is in it, the less anxious Jaehwan feels. He laughs at Sanghyuk's jokes and the moment Sanghyuk discovers that he is wearing mismatching socks, and afterwards, at Sanghyuk's grumpiness.

They lie down next to each other on the blanket after finishing the wine, Jaehwan's head feeling funny and his face too warm as their arms touch.

“That’s Sirius,” Sanghyuk says, reaching out to point at one of the million stars in the clear sky.

“Black?” Jaehwan asks; a joke he didn’t really mean to crack, but the wine did.

“Nerd,” Sanghyuk says and when Jaehwan turns his head towards him, he notices Sanghyuk smiling.

“Sirius Nerd? Never heard of him. Did he break out from Azkaban, too?”

“Oh, God,” Sanghyuk laughs, turning to Jaehwan. “I’m the one who’s supposed to tell awful jokes to impress you.”

Jaehwan opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself blushing as he looks into Sanghyuk's happy eyes, so he turns his gaze back towards the clear sky.

“Sorry,” he says. “I know Sirius; everyone knows Sirius. It’s the brightest star on the sky.”

“And do you know that one?” Sanghyuk asks, now pointing somewhere else.

“You do know that I have no idea which one of the zillion stars you’re pointing at, right?”

“Can you see the constellation Gemini?”

“I don’t know how that constellation looks like,” Jaehwan admits, feeling a little stupid.

“Look,” Sanghyuk says and draws a dome-like shape in the air. “That shiny star just there is Pollux and that other one just next to it is its twin, Castor. They’re not really twins though; Pollux is a single star while Castor is a sextuple system.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody say the word ‘sextuple’ before…” Jaehwan muses, completely missing the point of Sanghyuk's eloquent lecture. “Oh! A shooting star!”

Jaehwan remembers he should make a wish a second too late and the star disappears, leaving him wondering how many seconds need to pass until his wish doesn’t matter anymore, but then another shooting star comes and his breath hitches like a child’s.

“If you think about it,” Sanghyuk says, “it’s funny how we’re lying here, being excited about some rocks burning up. Sounds like something cavemen must have enjoyed back then.”

“Shut up, this is a miracle.”

Sanghyuk huffs out a laugh. “I guess,” he shrugs, his shoulder moving against Jaehwan's. “Maybe I just know too much about stars. Maybe that’s the same reason why cavemen stopped thinking shit burning up was fascinating.”

“Arsonists still think shit burning up is fascinating,” Jaehwan points out.

“I… I really can’t argue with that.”

Another three stars fall and suddenly Jaehwan becomes aware of the hand holding his own, the fingers warm around his icy palm. When he looks at Sanghyuk, the boy has his eyes closed, cracking one of them open.

“Are you sleeping?” Jaehwan asks with his mouth newly independent of his brain.

“No,” Sanghyuk chuckles and blinks both of his eyes open. “I was making a wish.”

“Oh,” Jaehwan says, glancing down at Sanghyuk's chest. “Did you wish for that grasshopper to leave you alone?”

“Grass— what? Oh my God!”

Sanghyuk immediately lets go of Jaehwan's hand and tries to brush off the grasshopper, but the little insect is already sitting on the blanket between the two of them. Jaehwan turns to the side and takes it between his fingers carefully, coaxing a faint cry out of Sanghyuk as he holds it up to his face.

“It won’t hurt you,” Jaehwan laughs at Sanghyuk's grimace. “Look, it’s so cute!”

“Cute, he says,” Sanghyuk mumbles. “It attacked me.”

“Did not,” Jaehwan replies. “Your green shirt probably confused the poor thing.”

“Ugh,” Sanghyuk lies back and looks at the insect. “Okay, maybe it isn’t so scary when it’s not hopping around. Hey, little guy.”

When Sanghyuk scoots closer to observe the grasshopper, Jaehwan loosens his grip and the grasshopper jumps into the general direction of Sanghyuk's face, making the boy scream. Jaehwan sniggers at that.

“You’re so evil!” Sanghyuk exclaims indignantly.

“I’m sorry, but you should’ve seen your face!”

Sanghyuk finally smiles too, and when Jaehwan stops laughing, he sees Sanghyuk's eyes dropping to his lips.

Fuck no.

“It’s getting cold,” Jaehwan says and sits up, not missing the confused look on Sanghyuk's face.

“Do you want to go home?”

“We probably should.”

They make their way back to the car in a silence that is not altogether comfortable and Jaehwan fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket all the way back to his flat. The atmosphere is still tense as they walk up the short flight of stairs and Sanghyuk pockets his hands when they stop in front of the door.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a kind smile, but it’s not completely sincere. Jaehwan feels awful.

“It was nice,” he grins nervously. “I… I hope we can go again, another time.”

“Really?” Sanghyuk asks, his eyes lighting up and his smile getting wider. “I mean, me too.”

“Well…” Jaehwan says, glancing at the intercom.

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk replies as if there was anything he should agree with. “Um, good night.”

“Good night.”

There’s a lingering moment and then Sanghyuk touches Jaehwan's cheek, his warm hand just brushing the skin as he leans in closer and blinks up, the light once again dimming in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something saddening on Jaehwan's face. He lets out a small sigh just when Jaehwan forces his eyes closed, but the warmth he expected on his lips doesn’t come. Instead, Sanghyuk presses a small kiss to Jaehwan's cheek and when Jaehwan opens his eyes, he can only see Sanghyuk's back moving away towards his car.

He feels like crying.

*

“He hates me.”

Hakyeon pinches the bridge of his nose and then takes a long sip of his whiskey and looks up at Jaehwan's reflection through the mirror Jaehwan is standing in front of, buttoning his shirt.

“You make it very hard not to hate you,” Hakyeon says and crosses his legs on the couch. “Joking aside, he probably doesn’t. He’s just got discouraged by your short and meaningless texts as well as the fact that you didn’t want him to kiss you.”

“I did want him to kiss me,” Jaehwan mumbles. “You know I get too nervous when I’m sober.”

“Which is not a normal thing. Just saying.”

“I know.” Jaehwan sighs and the mirror fogs up. “How do I look?”

“For someone who’s trying to catch someone to sleep with them so they’ll forget about their misery, or for someone who wants to drink until they’re cuddling a toilet bowl?”

“For someone who’s trying to impress Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan replies, the tips of his ears warming up. “He said he’d be there tonight.”

“Oh, so that’s why we’re going there,” Hakyeon nods, drinking.

“No, I’m— uh. Yeah, that’s why.”

Hakyeon only raises one of his eyebrows judgingly, but doesn’t say anything else.

The club is crowded and the atmosphere is stifling with Hakyeon saying hello to every other person, stopping to have a few words with them and introduce Jaehwan.

“I’ll go get a beer,” Jaehwan tells Hakyeon, but his friend isn’t even listening, so Jaehwan makes his way towards the counter.

Once he’s sitting in an armchair with his beer in his hand and two vodka shots in his stomach, Jaehwan finally scans the crowd, but the only familiar face he finds is Hakyeon's as he walks to the seat next to Jaehwan's.

“He’s over there, by the other counter,” Hakyeon yells over the music, nodding to the right. “Sanghyuk.”

Jaehwan's heart skips a beat and resumes pounding in his chest at twice the normal speed.

“Hold my beer,” he says.

“You’re not trying to get into a fight with him, right?” Hakyeon asks, suspiciously eyeing the bottle. “Because that’s exactly how that sounded.”

“No, I just want to talk to him, hold my beer.”

“Why aren’t you just taking it— ugh, forget it.”

Jaehwan springs up from the armchair a little too fast and he gets dizzy, but he manages to stay upright as he pushes his way through the people on the dance floor.

“Sanghyuk,” he shouts while touching Sanghyuk's shoulder.

Sanghyuk turns away with the remnants of a smile caused by whatever the guy next to him told him on his face, but it quickly melts off and gets replaced by an expression that Jaehwan reads as condescending.

“Jaehwan,” he says, “you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

Jaehwan doesn’t voice his thoughts about that sounding rude.

“Can we talk?” he asks instead.

Sanghyuk tells his friends he’ll be back soon and lets Jaehwan lead the way outside.

“Where are we going?” Sanghyuk inquires when Jaehwan turns left at the corner of the building.

“I just…” Jaehwan mumbles and stops by the wall, far away from the streetlights. He can still see Sanghyuk's questioning look and gets nervous, his nails digging into his palms.

This is it. He’s going to do it.

Without thinking about it twice, Jaehwan cups Sanghyuk's cheeks and kisses him on the mouth, but Sanghyuk isn’t kissing him back and places a hand on Jaehwan's chest instead, trying to push him away.

“Jaehwan,” he breathes against Jaehwan's mouth. “Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan pulls back and shuts his eyes tight, sliding down against the concrete wall, hiding his face behind his knees and arms as he sits on the pavement.

Sanghyuk hates him.

He would cry if he could, but he stopped crying several years ago. The last time he cried was when Hongbin told him he didn’t want to be with Jaehwan anymore, because Jaehwan was incapable of loving anybody and was a cold-hearted monster who could only find satisfaction in life in someone’s arms, sated and served according to his needs, without giving back any sort of affection. He said loving Jaehwan was more futile than longing for someone who was long dead.

And he was probably right.

A raindrop falls on the back of his neck and it’s followed by several more, like the sky is mourning whatever this could have been with Sanghyuk, but then the raindrops get smeared on his skin by a warm hand that pulls him in until he’s burying his face into a jacket that smells just like the cloud of perfume in Sanghyuk's car did back on that beautiful night.

“I don’t really understand what’s going on,” Sanghyuk says with a soft laugh, his fingers carding through Jaehwan's wet locks, “but, Jaehwan, I wish you would let me get close to you.”

There’s silence between them, the rhythmic tapping of the rain against a manhole cover signalling the seconds they stay unmoving, save for Sanghyuk's caresses.

“I’ve never been in love,” Jaehwan says finally. “I don’t… I don’t know how it feels to be in love.”

He expects Sanghyuk to let go of him, to leave him there, hurt, because that’s what any person with a little bit of common sense would do.

“You know, I don’t think I was in love before either,” Sanghyuk replies, tightening his hold around Jaehwan. “You might want to laugh at me for being so mushy,” he chuckles, “but I think I’m just learning how it feels to completely fall for someone. I really like you, Jaehwan.”

“You can’t,” Jaehwan shakes his head against Sanghyuk's jacket. “I mean, what if I won’t be able to love you back?”

“You know what?” Sanghyuk asks and Jaehwan finally looks up, blinking away the rain. He didn’t know it was possible for Sanghyuk to look even more handsome, but somehow he manages, even though he’s soaked to the skin and his dark hair sticks to his forehead. “I’m willing to risk it.”

Jaehwan wants to tell him that’s the worst idea anyone could ever have, but Sanghyuk kisses him then, soft and slow and sweet, no matter the water in their mouths. Sanghyuk strokes the side of his neck and Jaehwan grips his jacket to support himself as he tries to climb closer, leaning into Sanghyuk's hand on the back of his neck. He feels the corners of Sanghyuk's lips curving up against his own.

“What are you grinning at?” Jaehwan asks with a smile similar to Sanghyuk’s.

“This is so cliché,” Sanghyuk answers, brushing Jaehwan's fringe out of his eyes, “kissing in the rain.”

“You took me stargazing on our first date,” Jaehwan says. “You seem to like clichés.”

Sanghyuk laughs at that and kisses Jaehwan again, and, for the second time in his life, Jaehwan feels that pleasant aching in his chest that he felt when he first met Sanghyuk.

And he wants it to ache forever.

#vixx #ken #hyuk #hyuken #rating: pg13 #angst #fluff #au #req #istg i'd written the earphone scene before whisper came out #i also need to stop writing autobiographies haha this could've been good

[hogwarts-houses-as]

Studying Angels

AUTHORS NOTE: heyy. This is what ive written of the book so far. I hope you enjoy. Criticism is accepted but don’t be a dick. Oh and I’m in slytherin btw- Sara

Tw: social anxiety, depersonalisation and mild swearing

Amy’s notes- oh, not bad at all! I’ll give you 15 points for it, bringing slytherin up to 761

It’s seems stupid to think that we know everything. Geniuses are only seen as superior because they have the confidence to say what people really think and fools aren’t taken seriously because they screwed up one situation and they’ve never been able to dig out of the humiliation. And we call this ‘normal.’ We occupy 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000003% of the known universe (not counting parallel/outer universes) and we oh-so humbly named ourselves “Wise man.” Absolutely insane.

Chapter 1 I can strongly assure you that I dislike isolation. I can also assure you that the prospect of fucking up an interaction with another human being terrifies me even more. That’s the reason that the only people I’ve spoken to in 18 days are my professors and Siri. Social phobia is a dreadful thing. Now, a thing that I’ve learned recently is that a book makes a perfect shield for any extroverts that may want to approach but it isn’t always 100% affective – after all, what is? “Good afternoon ma'am. Do you mind if I sit with you? It’s just that every other place is taken.” Piped up an innocently seeming peer at Cambridge University (or as I like to call them 'victims of level 7 of hell’). She almost seemed too normal but I just put it down to the fact that my brain was completely fucked 98% of the time. She was incredibly pale but had a certain radiance that made her look more human. The gorgeously freckled kind of pale. Light auburn hair streamed just past her shoulders while dazzling azure eyes shone softly against the punkish attire she sported. Ripped jeans, a baggy black t-shirt, heavy-duty doc martens and a plaid shirt thrown over her shoulders. Meanwhile, I looked like a gender-warped David Mitchell. Nerdy and awkward with the sex appeal of the average road accident. “So,” She started, somehow pulling me from my book as she sipped her latte, “What are you studying here?” “Sociology. Because I like finding out exactly how screwed humanity is.” I replied reluctantly. She laughed. She laughed at my sarcasm and not being absolutely horrified at it. Interaction isn’t that bad. Or it could be just her. Screw it. “Same.” She said through giggles, “So are most of my roommates -the absolute nightmares. The block of dorms I’m in are under repair so, me and 12 other lunatics are all crashing on the same sofa which isn’t exactly the best of experiences. At least it’s free though.” I smiled at her dry humour. A thought sprang to mind. No, I’m completely forgetting myself. Is that a terrible thing? Well, it’s too forward… you know what? Fuck the anxiety. “Well, if you like, you could maybe chill at my place.” I never wish to say that phrase ever again in this life or the next, “The college gave me no roommates for, uh, reasons,” Wow. Good job I totally don’t sound suspicious, “Therefore I’ve got a spare bedroom. Obviously, you don’t-” “That sounds lovely, actually.” Two fingers to you, anxiety. “If I could just get your number then I’ll be around as soon as possible. Oh, I’m Louise by the way.” She said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Sam,” I replied, at once shaking said hand, “T'was a pleasure doing business with you.” She chuckled with me. “You too. I’ll see ya then.” “See ya.” What the bloody hell is wrong with me? It’s as if I’m overcoming my psychological chemical imbalances. Holy shit I’m overcoming my psychological chemical imbalances.

Chapter 2 “Good morning.” She greeted through yawns, her hair scraped into a messy bun. She hadn’t come back last night until about 2am most probably because of some party that I wasn’t invited to. I’m not complaining because if I was mentally able enough to have a social life then I certainly wouldn’t invite an obstinate prick who is trapped in their own brain and hasn’t felt reality in 8 months. “'Morning. You slept well?” I asked as I tried to hide the fact I was downing the handful of pills that were needed to keep me sane. Key words here being 'kind of’ and 'attempting.’ “Yeah thanks.” Her gentle stare met mine and her face dropped. Oh god, “What are they?” She inquired, pointing at the packets upon packets in the metal case next to me. “Umm, they’re, um, they’re-” Come on brain, you can think up seventeen thousand ways a situation can go wrong but you can’t think of one excuse to what these pills are. “Anti-depressants, derealisation meds and 4 kinds of anxiety meds, Jesus Christ Sam!” She exclaimed rummaging through the case. “Look, it’s nothing, really. I just need… I just need to knock some systems into…into place. I’ve…I’ve got to go.” I scampered out of my dorm room. I fled…like an absolute coward. “You fucking coward, you twat, Sam.” I mumble to myself as I start pacing up and down the corridors because everything else is going downhill and everybody else thinks that I’m insane what’s the point in caring. Something grabs my arm. Oh god she thinks I’m pathetic. She could be one of them idiots who thinks that you can control mental health because it’s all in your head. The nice ones are always idiots. “Look, this connects so many dots an-” “Oh yeah, it makes so much sense that I’m clinically insane. Thanks.” Her face softens with an expression that I hadn’t seen in a long while. “It just explains why people stereotype you in such a way. They don’t understand what’s up. And I know we aren’t that close but, but I think I can help you.” I turned around, just feeling like a huge, overreacting oaf. “Thanks, Louise. I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” I said sheepishly. I’ve known her for a day and she already must deal with a chemically imbalanced nightmare “Don’t worry mate. Shit’ll be okay.” She assured with a smile. Well, I’m truly screwed now, aren’t I? Chapter 3 “Every stereotype is stupid unless the people or person that you are talking about has been proven to conform to that stereotype. But then that’s not a stereotype, it’s a fact.” Louise ranted as we strolled towards our sociology class. “Yeah. It’s one of those things that everybody thinks is normal even though it’s just a paradox wrapped in an enigma wrapped in generations of unneeded acceptance.” Wow. I don’t sound like a nerd at all, “I understand that the social contract theory has to be followed unless you wish to live like an animal without a society but I still don’t get why how you’re born should define what you should or need to do. It’s just utterly bizarre.“ I uttered as we set down our bags in our classroom. The room was surprisingly real. Almost too real to be real. I assumed that my DPDR was beginning to thrive again.

Now, you probably don’t know what DPDR is but I can assure you that you have most probably experienced it. It’s the constant feeling of unreality. A neurological limbo where you can’t tell if you’re conscious or not. An odd phase where dreams feel more like reality than reality and your brain starts flurrying with 'perhaps I’m already dead and this is what they meant when they said that your life flashes before your eyes’. You begin to forget what it’s like to be in the real world. You can’t remember what it’s like to properly focus on the bird chirping in the morning or tea seeping down your esophagus at 3am on a cold Saturday or soft carpet nuzzling against your feet when you finally get up in the morning or the delight of going to see a film with a close friend and laughing over the Scottish character who exclaims "oh my dear lord” at the site of explosions or the delightfully beautiful way the close friend laughed as their eyes lit up in a sense that settled you with a feeling that could only be described as 'you give me comfort in the best kind of way and I hope that we stay friends until we’re draped with suits in coffins’ …or even smiling because you want to rather than because your brain says that something is nice. It’s depressing to think that I may never be able to be in those moments ever again. Its brutally petrifying.

But I’ll stop rambling now.

As we started escaping to different universes (hers was the land of whatever music she listened to whereas mine was the harry potter universe) a plethora of seemingly drunk students came into the classroom in a way that could only be described as 'falling’.

“Did they actually come into class hammered?” I muttered disapprovingly to Louise.

“No,” She stammered with a chuckle, “They’re just the clumsy ones. The nerds.”

“They’re the nerds? Well, doesn’t that out me at an odd point in the Uni hierarchy.

"Who has a good place in any kind of hierarchy? The concept of a hierarchy was made by our society to make you feel that you will never be good enough.” She mumbled, scrolling through albums worth of my chemical romance’s discography.

“I’ve heard that 'mama’ is a pretty good song. And an opening line of 'mama we all go to hell’ says more about Gerard than any other words ever could.” I uttered as I lazily through my tatty book into my rucksack, only to resurface and find Louise staring at me with a confused but impressed look on her face. “What?”

“It’s just that you don’t look like the typical MCR fan.”

“What do I look like then? A stereotypical Dad who thinks that Lionel Richie is the king of the music industry?” I uttered through giggles as out sociology teacher (Mr Bennet) waltzed in.

“Good morning.” He greeted in his amazingly fed-up way, throwing down his bag. “Right as per usual, let’s get on with the debate. Anybody have a controversial subject that they’re afraid they have opinions on that are ever so slightly different to everybody else’s?” He asked like he was one more sleepless night away from a straight-jacket.

Now, I haven’t raised my hand in class since the social anxiety disorder kicked in but for some reason, almost as if I was possessed, my hand shot up.

“Sam.” Bennet said as he gave a vague nod in my direction, thoroughly shocked at my participation.

“The 2016 election in America.”

(Hope you enjoyed that :))

#house cup #submission

[lonesomealley]

Busy But Not Busy Enough

Alright so I’m going to kickstart a little update section where I’ll be talking about things that are going on and where the blog and/or my projects are heading. This isn’t to be confused with the “free writing” section in Writer's Block because that one is still focused on telling a story where as these updates are just me talking about things that are going on and what I’m thinking.

And one thing that’s been on my mind a lot lately is work/life balance. As of writing this I am about to graduate high school (I’m graduating a year early because I’ve filled out my credit requirements) and plan to be heading off to college as soon as I can. The thing that I’m concerned about is whether or not college is going to be easier or more difficult than high school, from either a workload or actual smarts stand point. I’ve read some information and the basic summary I’ve composed is that, “College is easier and more relaxed than high school, but also requires a good work ethic and motivation to do the work.” Also the thought of having the freedom to schedule my classes in tune to my wants and living by myself with the opportunity to meet new people make me hopeful that things will work out favorably. So the thing about college is that, if I have more free time than I do in high school (going to school from 7:30 to 2:30, and then only having a couple hours of free time because of homework unless I cut into my sleeping time) then I plan on turning up the output for which I work on my little (not so little anymore) passion projects. But why is free time important for this?

Because I am a human who has psychological needs and wants, and my needs involve having the time to waste on enjoyable activities such as video games, friends, relationships, or just getting more sleep in so that I can make my life feel a little more lively. I fully admit, whether I have a bad work ethic or am lazy, that I cannot turn my entire life into a juggling act of time management. I read things such as Elon Musk working 80 hours a week and think to myself, “Wow this guy is really killing himself,” because it doesn’t feel natural, in my opinion, for people to dedicate all of their time to performing one activity. Back in the old-old-old days where human beings were still nomadic hunter-gatherers, their daily responsibilities came down to hunting enough food to eat and taking care of children. Then they got to spend the rest of the day doing whatever they saw fit. And over time industrialization and a strive for efficient innovation drove people to work in factory settings for hours and hours on end. Then eventually, when we realized that people are people and need to not kill themselves in factories, the time was pushed down to a more reasonable (however still questionable) 40 hours a week. Even 8 hours can feel a little frustrating to work around, but with the inclusion of an average 2 days off weekly, sick days, and vacation, I suppose the time is made up for.

But with my current situation, time spent on school work can soar up to 10 hours a day on top of the other lively responsibilities that I have. Factor in the over looming stress of academics and some more personal family issues, and life is kind of hell occasionally. Which begs the question: Where do I have the time to do passion projects? Well obviously the answer should be simple, just fill in my free time with passion projects. Yes and no, because passion projects still require brain power in order to perform and sometimes I just don’t have the energy. Or I feel like my time is wasted because the things I’ll make won’t ever live up to the imaginary standards of my imaginary audience. Or sometimes I just can’t figure out something and just give up, and then maybe eventually I’ll come back to it and fix the problem before drifting away from the project again. And on top of this there are the nagging worries that, “I’m not busy enough,” “I could be doing much more right now,” “I can’t work at the same pace as other people,” “Wow this person’s stuff looks way better than mine from comparison.” These are among some of the concerns following the a current video that I’m working on.

Without spoiling too much, the video is a critique on a video game that follows the same long form formula of my previous video on The Beginner’s Guide. However when I first started this project I told myself, “This will be done in a month and be about the same length as the last video, easily.” Well fuck was I wrong. I posted a screenshot of my progress on Twitter where the word count was in the 7,000 word range, and the script is now currently 10,000 words and going through a rewrite. So this video is shaping out to be about an hour long, and I haven’t even started the editing process which at this point will be lazily done (that’s to say it won’t have many if any fancy editing effects). The one big thing about this video however is that I’m not entirely confident on my opinion on it, because the video is heavily opinionated and comes from a certain perspective. There are a lot of people who won’t agree with my opinion and it’s pretty harsh towards the game, which might stir up some controversy for a little bit if anyone cares at all about the project.

So the video won’t be out for a while, I might (just might) push to get it out during summer break or even as a one year anniversary thing, but who knows at this point. So this is the current situation I’m in, on the flip side I also want to put more attention toward this blog which, unlike video editing or trying to make a game, doesn’t require long periods of effort from me and rotates between different fields of expertise. These blog posts are so easy to write if I have something I want to talk about, and can be done at anytime, in fact most of this post was typed up in my Creative Writing class. Right now I have several planned posts that I’ve started and just need to finish up, rewrite, or get edited. I’m also sticking with this whole long form writing thing outside of a couple exceptions such as video posts. Posts are generally going to stay over 500 words with a push towards a couple thousand.

You’ll also notice that I’ve stripped out some of the social media functionality of my Tumblr blog, and that’s because I frankly just don’t care for Tumblr as a social media platform but rather as a way to make a little website. Because who would seriously consider using a Wordpress website for hobbies when it costs money to use an html editor, Tumblr just gives you that for free and much more. There’s also the problem with Tumblr posts being generally incompatible with posts being written in html that contain image and video embeds or special formatting. There is nothing I can really do about this besides just not using html code to embed stuff. And I don’t entirely care about fostering an audience at the moment, I am more focused on just building a back catalog of good works and doing this stuff for fun. Posts on this blog or on my first youtube channel will be generally devoid of things that would otherwise make them dated but possibly pull more people in such as sponsorships, talking about trendy news, or putting update information in posts that aren’t in the updates section of Writer's Block.

And that’s everything I wanted to put out there. Things will come out eventually, but I’m either lazy or just too tired out, pick your poison. If I do end up less stressed and with more time in college I definitely plan on putting more of that additional freedom into producing this type of stuff because I enjoy doing it, it’s just that I’m not particularly good at it.

If you have any reason to contact me about things, you can do so at [email protected] as I won’t read anything you try to send me over Tumblr or Twitter. As for usage of the things that I make, I fully endorse the use of my content in the creation of new projects given that I am accredited and that the work isn’t plagiarizing or outright stealing my works. What I deem to be “stealing my works” will be at my discretion in accordance to fair use laws, if I have a problem with how my work is being used I will attempt to use any contact means possible to get the problem sorted out. Should this prove unsuccessful I will use full power to take down the concerning content.

-Count_

#update

[nocteverbascio]

Love takes time (we have it) (33/100)

Pairing: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell Summary: Margaery has always been in love with Sansa and somewhere along the line Sansa fell in love with Margaery. Neither of them know how to say it. But actions speak louder than words. A/N: just to let you know im not dead! i’ve just had writers block im actually planning out more chapter ideas so hopefully more to come!

ao3 link

Chapter 33: It reminded me of you

Summer could not have come sooner (despite going by so quickly, not that Sansa really minds considering she's a bit bored in Winterfell). Sansa had to admit that her second year at KLA was much more tumultuous than she expected it to be. Even if she can’t quite pinpoint her favorite moments, there were definitely moment of high emotions that she will always remember.

Though she could have stayed in King’s Landing and worked at the diner for extra money, her parents feel like they haven’t seen enough of her. And there’d be plenty of work at her father’s office at City Hall.

As happy as she is to move forward from another year in the jungle, Sansa finds herself excited for the upcoming year. She feels more confident and steady in her place at KLA. While she spent a good deal trying to find a place where she belongs, it turns out it doesn’t nearly matter as much as who the company is.

Of course namely Margaery.

Jeyne and Sansa are biking back from a day trip to the Godswood, sharing sandwiches and candy, swimming in the pond, and talking about what’s been happening in Winterfell all summer. According to Jeyne, there are rumors of Sansa’s father being encouraged to take up a special seat on Robert’s council. It’s just one big conspiracy to Jeyne though so Sansa can’t take that seriously.

“I’m telling you, Sans, if he wasn’t a Bolton, he’d just be an ordinary man,” Jeyne goes on riding beside Sansa, trying to gesticulate with one hand on the handlebar. “But otherwise you cannot convince me that he wouldn’t have flayed Lady had I not stepped in.”

“Oh god, Jeyne! Flaying?!” Sansa exclaims. “In this day and age?”

Jeyne looks at her in all seriousness. “We don’t know what he does up in Dreadfort. The name sounds as bad as it looks to be honest. It’s bloody dreadful.”

“What were you doing bringing Lady up there anyway?”

“We were going for a run together and suddenly, Lady took off. I’m lucky I managed to find her.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Your adventures are going to get you into trouble one day, Jeyne.”

Jeyne swerves her bike closer to Sansa’s suddenly and Sansa nearly falls off balance, shooting her friend a glare. “It’s so sweet that you care,” Jeyne coyly says as she continues to ride with ease.

Sansa grips her handlebars with a scoff. “Well obviously,” she admits as a matter of fact. “Who else would I trust to take care of Lady?”

Jeyne snorts as she weaves her bike side to side. “There is always Margaery,” she sing songs.

Sansa grimaces.

It’s been like this all summer. Jeyne mentioning Margaery at least once a day, if not once a conversation. Sansa has nothing against Margaery. She really doesn’t. It’s not like it bothers her to be reminded of the best--second best according Jeyne--person she’s ever met, who is nothing but kind and gracious to her. She just doesn’t think it’s necessary to bring up Margaery all the time.

They pull up to the Stark mansion, where Lady is lying down on the front steps, lazily batting her tail from side to side. She raises her head to the sight of her master and jumps up excitedly.

“How is she doing by the way?” Jeyne tries to act coy but she’s terrible at it.  

They park their bikes at the bottom of the steps as Sansa attempts to act like she hasn’t heard the question.

Jeyne knows what that does to Sansa. It riles her up in the worst way. Sansa finds that she has a hard time formulating a sentence or a thought. But she’s learned. She’s had two months of the summer to learn.

“Sansaaaa,” her best friend prods, bumping her shoulders as they make it up the steps to where Lady is happily panting for Sansa’s attention. “Give me the juicy details.”

“There’s nothing juicy. She’s fine,” Sansa responds nonchalantly. “She’s traveling in America with her family currently.”

“Wow, you cannot tell me there isn’t anything juicy. Have you seen those American boys? They’re all gorgeous with their six pack abs and hilarious accents.”

Sansa rolls her eyes as she bends down to scratch Lady’s head. “If there are any boys, I wouldn’t know, Margaery never mentions any to me.” Not that it matters to her, they can go conversations without ever mentioning a boy. Even if boys do come up in conversations, it’s Margaery wondering if Sansa has any boy in mind. She wonders if she should start asking Margaery if she has any boy in mind.

“Speak of the devil,” Jeyne suddenly voices.

Sansa looks up and sees Jeyne holding a package up at the door. She leaves Lady, who follows excitedly to see as well.

The package fits in Sansa’s arms comfortably and luckily it isn’t too heavy but according to the label it is at least 5 kg and most definitely from Margaery, with her neat script written on the box. Sansa doesn’t open it right away, as much as she’s dying to know what’s inside.

She moves inside the mansion and drops the box on the dining room table to find a razor to open it up. Jeyne is thrumming with excitement.

And it definitely doesn’t stop the onslaught of teasing.

“Isn’t she a sweetheart?” Jeyne croons as she hovers around Sansa curiously. “Sending you gifts from across an ocean. If only I had someone who liked me enough to send me gifts from America. To take the time in the midst of those gorgeous men to think of me.”

Sansa cuts into the box, narrowing her eyes at Jeyne. It doesn’t stop the blush on her cheeks though and Jeyne sees this.

“She really is a good girlfriend, if you can’t even tell me I’m wrong.”

“Ohmygod,” Sansa exasperates. “She’s not my girlfriend.” She tears open the flaps to the box to pull out the wrapping and bags of air. Her heart swells at the contents.

There’s a note sitting on top of what looks to be stacks of chocolate and other candies that Sansa has been dying to try since Margaery’s mentioned them to her. Sansa picks up the note and sees Margaery’s neat handwriting on the plain sheet.

It reminded me of you. Try not to eat so many, wouldn’t want your tummy to hurt. -Margaery

Sansa smiles to herself, hearing Margaery’s sarcasm clearly in her mind. She sets the note aside before pulling out the bars marked Hershey, apparently there are several types and Sansa’s dying to try out the cookies and creme when she sees it. Underneath the chocolate there are plenty marked M&Ms and Skittles. She loves them all and can’t deny the fluttering sensation in her chest.

“Good lord, it looks like she bought the whole bloody shop for you,” Jeyne says as Sansa hands her a couple of bags. “She’s enabling your sugar addiction!”

“I thought you were saying it was sweet of her to send me a gift,” Sansa cheekily quips.

Sansa hums to herself happily as she unpacks the box. Jeyne scrunches her nose in disgust. “I’m regretting that now, clearly.”

#sansaery #sansa x margaery #love takes time (we have it) #high school au #fluff #cute gifts from abroad