#it's okay to pull out and figure out how to be human. college...really is when you know yourself. it's so taxing in every way

[eorzeashan]

man wtf, wtf. Goodwill Hunting. I didn't expect to get slapped in the face with all the glaring issues I'd ever experienced in college but. wow. I fucking cried. the emotional gaps between people from different economic backgrounds, different chances at economic and academic success....when you're a student who also faced that daunting bracket of having your college path be literal life and death for what comes after and always having to be adjacent to people where this is what they've lived in their whole lives, and then how different that is next to those who can't have that chance ever and the sheer uncertainty and fear of it. the trauma that comes from a background of abuse and how it confuses others from the outside who can't understand why you'd pass up the chance for something better from their view economically, academically, emotionally. it hurt so much.

#what do you want. the scariest most loaded question you could ask anyone in that turbulent time #I don't know if university/college was ever a crucible as it was for me but this movie resonated so hard it dredged up feelings I thought #I forgot #how different it is when you don't have a safety net and you think you'll be in this hole your entire life. do you want to leave it? #ooc #admin watches movies #college was a lot of things for me. when it was your life's everything for a long long time because it would determine if you lived or died #exhales. im lucky to be educated. im glad im educated #but for most of my life until pretty much now #it nearly killed me #it's okay to pull out and figure out how to be human. college...really is when you know yourself. it's so taxing in every way #i dont know how to describe it. it comes with a lot that irrevocably changed my relationship with education itself #im only learning now for the first time when im finally out of the system what it means to love and want to learn #anyways sorry rant over the university system is....something when it's not *just* a class for a student.

[boneblushed]

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”

“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot

[blooberrytea]

Connections Pt. 3

Pt: 1 2 3 4

~ Summary: Set in post-revolution Detroit, You've been assigned to the recently developed Android Crimes Division; and it's already off to a rough start.

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: painful slow burn and potentially graphic imagery

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out :sob:

~

These late nights with Connor weren’t unusual. At least, they didn’t used to be. You’d spent countless late nights with him prior to the revolution. In those late nights, many words were exchanged– Plenty of 4 AM confessions, when the exhaustion finally took over and there was too much wine in your system. 

You had one major rule that you swore you’d never break: Don’t fuck your coworkers. 

It wasn’t just your rule, it was Fowler’s too. He practically forbid romantic relationships between officers. Working at the DPD was messy enough, he didn’t need petty arguments or couples unwilling to keep it in their pants interfering with investigations. And you agreed wholeheartedly. 

And with the crime at hand, there was definitely no time for romance. 

You set your laptop on the dining table, muscle-memory taking over as you typed in your passcode. Connor sat beside you in a plush wooden chair, the fabrics embroidered with floral patterns. It was a cute dining set you’d found at a thrift store and taken an immediate liking to. 

“Okay, before I show you this– I’ve only had them for a few days.”

To say you were scared of his reaction was definitely an understatement. Your gut twisted at the thought of him being upset with you. 

Connor gave you a confused look, his head tilt akin to that of a dog. His LED spinning yellow as he processed your words.

“Alright…”

You breathed out a sigh as you pulled up the files from the other night and slid the device over to the android. 

Connor situated the laptop in front of him, eyeing you uneasily for a moment before tapping on the files and opening one of the images. 

You watched his LED change to red as he clicked through the images.

Each one contained a photo of an android mangled or brutally damaged in several ways. Only one image had an android with the same purple stamp as the one you’d found at the docs. 

“Well this… Certainly raises more questions.”

“The file showed up the night before we went to the docks. I tried to get as much information from them as I could. Even running their EXIF data. They’re wiped clean.”

“This has android involvement written all over it for sure. I’m not certain that it’s possible for a human to wipe files like that, unless they’re extremely tech savvy.” 

You gave a half shrug, “Oh, isn’t it odd how only one photo has the purple symbol? It’s almost like our unsub got sloppy.” 

Connor hummed, clicking through the photos again, “Unless it was very much intentional.” 

“They left a note with the images too.”

The android nodded, tabbing out of the photos and opening up the word document. 

“   ‘Even a best iron grows brittle with too much beating’  “

“Oh god, can we just come back to that? I don’t have the brain for it right now.”

Connor let out a soft laugh, tabbing back into the images.

“Have we figured out what this symbol is yet?”

The android glanced to you, “It’s a Labyrinth. There was an android I met, quite friendly with pigeons. The labyrinth was all over his journal and on a wall in his apartment.”  

“The Labyrinth? Like the one that held the Minotaur?”

Connor gave an approving smile, “Are you interested in Greek Mythology?”

You waved him off, rolling your eyes, “I took a course or two in college, that’s all.” 

“For some reason, I doubt that’s where it ends.” 

He was teasing you. You could see the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Okay. Maybe more than two courses. Maybe I took all the courses I could.” You huffed, turning the laptop to you and zooming in on the labyrinth. 

“There really isn’t anything abnormal about it. It’s just purple.” 

“It’s most likely our unsubs signature. I doubt this is the last we’ll see of it.” 

You leaned back in your chair, taking a long sip from your forgotten glass of wine. Caffeine was probably the better option here, but you were wound so tight the string was about to snap. 

“Truly a shame you can’t indulge in the joys of cheap wine.” You hummed.

“The internet tells me that I am not missing much.”

You leaned forward, holding the glass in front of Connor’s face. “Oh boo! Try it.” 

“Try it? Detective, I can’t taste it-”

“I’ll peer pressure you.”

Connor rolled his eyes and took the glass from you, taking a quick tentative sip. 

“It’s very acidic,” he paused.  “And definitely not good for you. It also has a low alcohol content, which insinuates that you’re a ‘lightweight’ based on how little it takes to get you tipsy.” 

You gaped at him, playfully snatching your glass back, “I regret asking.” 

“You insisted.” “Mhm and now I insist that you be quiet.” 

A silence hung in the air between you, the cheeky android suddenly at a loss for words– His LED slowly spinning yellow as his eyes met yours. 

“To be honest, I didn’t expect us to be sharing wine and late night investigations again.” He murmured, his voice softer than before. 

You swallowed harshly and adjusted in your seat, “Well neither did I… Not without Hank, at least. Who’s supposed to make the grumpy comments now?”

Connor’s lip quirked into a smirk, “I’m sure you’ve got it handled.” He replied, his tone teasing. 

You scrunched your nose up at him as you leaned forward, resting your arms on the table.

His hand hesitantly found yours, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Oohh. You’re breaking so many rules right now.” You whispered.

“How scandalous.” He whispered back. 

The tension was so thick you swore you’d be able to slice through it with your metaphorical knife– unspoken emotions heavy between the two of you.

You cleared your throat as you stood, untangling your fingers from Connors. 

“So– Do you think we could talk to your pigeon friend? Maybe he’d have a lead for us?” 

#connor rk800 #connor x reader #dbh #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #x reader #bloo connections

[trianna-phoenix]

(Bowuigi human au)

Luigi could tell he was being followed, walking down a dark and empty street, he knew it wasn’t just his paranoia

His heart is beating so fast, he barely works up the courage to look behind him, and that’s when he finally sees the man

Wearing a black hoodie and jeans, he was staring directly at Luigi with a mean glare. He didn’t even look away as Luigi made eye contact with him.

The man was only a few feet behind him, he started to speed up, getting closer to Luigi.

Luigi could feel alarms going off in his body, a cold sweat overcoming him as his fight or flight kicks in to full drive.

Luigi ran, he ran as fast as his legs could take him. To his horror he could hear the pounding footsteps of the man running after him.

His mind went blank as he ran forward, distantly he could see a open shop, seemed like a bar.

It was the only building that was open on this street.

Luigi ran as fast as he could towards it.

There was a group of people outside, some big guys Luigi would never dare to even look at. But Luigi wasn’t thinking.

The closest one to him was also the biggest, some guy in a leather jacket, adorned with metal spikes. His hair must’ve been dyed red because Luigi would never believe it was natural. He wasn’t exactly standing alone, there were people near him, but none of them seemed to be talking to or even at him.

Luigi took a chance.

He ran over, not full in his right mind as he took his hand and whispered as loud as he could

“I’m being followed”

Bowser never really liked these bars, his friends would drag him to them once every blue moon but they were always so boring.

There was only so much standing and drinking he could do before he lost his mind.

Now, as the night was coming to a close, he stood outside with a few of those exact friends, some where waiting for their Ubers and bowser wanted to make sure they got home safe, him being the least intoxicated

Well actually, bowser didn’t drink at all, some stupid medical condition he developed after a few crazy years in college.

He huffed, sipping at a glass of soda as he mindlessly listened to his drunk friends ramble.

Bowser didn’t hear him approach before he felt someone roughly grab his hand, they held on tightly and bowser could see how hard they were shaking. They looked terrified.

Bowser just stared at them as they worked up the courage to say something.

He spoke quietly, barely a whisper, but bowser still felt a chill down his spine when they said their grievances

“I’m being followed” they held his hand tightly as they glanced down the street.

Bowser could see him, the man.

He had stopped running, clearly breathing heavily as he just stood there, staring.

Bowser set his drink down on a near by ledge, before pulling the shaking man close to his chest.

He looked about five steps away from a panic attack, trembling with wide eyes.

“What’s your name?” He asked trying to figure out what he should do

“L-Luigi” he struggled to speak over how intensely he was shaking, bowser placed a hand on his shoulder

“Well Luigi, let me take you home” he looked away from the man, still standing halfway down the street to look at the man in his arms

He had dark brown hair, wore a green shirt and a cardigan.

Luigi glanced up towards him, and bowser nearly stopped breathing. His eyes, they were bright blue, they looked like jewels. He’d never seen anything like it.

They were gorgeous.

Bowser blinked as he watched Luigi’s lip twitch, he seemed about to cry. Bowser didn’t want that at all.

“Is that okay?” He followed, worried he had made himself seem dangerous.

But Luigi nodded his head, stepping closer to bowser as the man tilted his head. It was eerie, how he hadn’t tried to move closer to them, but didn’t leave.

Bowser lived close by, just a street over, which is mostly why he hadn’t gotten himself an Uber.

“My house isn’t far from here, do you mind if we go there?”

Luigi shook his head and bowser immediately started walking with Luigi right in front of him.

His friends were too drunk to even notice him leaving.

(Anyway I don’t feel like writing anymore of this but feel free to use it as a prompt as long at you credit me)

(And yes they get home safe then bowser walks Luigi to his own place the next morning we’re Luigi gives him his number)

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowigi #bowser #luigi #tw stalking #fanfic #fanfiction prompts

[gyunglitter]

introducing𓏧

the losers club !!

summary: just you dicking around with txt college!au besties

warnings: doja cat fandom slander, mentions of soobin's feet, mentions of bullying, cursing

contrary to your group’s self-appointed nickname, you guys are actually well known (and liked!) on campus!! :D

you guys have NO IDEA as to how so many people on campus grew to like you and want to hang out with you

especially since you guys had a hard time in school before

but woohoo to not peaking in high school right?!

tbh, you guys are testaments to that second round of puberty nobody talks about

ya know, the glow up that happens after you graduate high school and get away from all the pricks you were forced to see everyday?

yup, you and your losers are finally thriving

besides when you’re dying bc of all your classes and tests

but yeah

while other ppl really like your group’s personalities

YOU GUYS ARE SUPER HOT TOO🤭

i mean, just look at y’all!

[choi yeonjun]-

‘99 liner//junior

took a gap year before getting dragged back to go to school so he could learn to be a normal human being

did someone say IT BOY??

literally the girls and the gays are in love with this man

dance major and student athlete who unironically does zumba every saturday morning

had no social life in high school because kid was NEVER there

he was a bored only child, while his neglectful parents were filthy rich and figured their kid could do whatever he wanted to entertain himself

so what he wanted, they got it—including vacations

with him being gone so much, his classmates always wondered who this choi yeonjun guy was and how he could miss so much school while still passing

though the intrigue kind of stopped when he pulled up to school with the ugliest shoes to walk south korea

him and his obnoxious shoes gave a lot of people the ick :(

but never fear, yeonjun and his footwear are just ahead of their time!

(you can't say they are in quite yet, but they probably will come around some day!!)

yeonjun typically spent his days doing sports, travelling, and running away from talent scouts lmao

no idol life for him in THIS lifetime

but as life would have it, the man is too scrumptious to be out of the spotlight for too long

bc he became a model not too long after college started due to a school project photoshoot went viral on twitter!!

his twitter is a minefield while he reserves his insta for the wholesome content :)

[choi soobin]-

‘00 liner//junior

glue of the group despite insisting how much he HATES y’all

broadcast and entertainment major so he can get into the entertainment industry and get the bts of moviemaking!!

(really just wants to meet all of his favorite voice actors tbh)

known for being the Ultimate Boyfriend™ despite never actually being in a relationship lololol

in middle school he got into anime, which was COMPLETELY normal! he actually made a ton of friends that way!!

at least until one of his friends came over and saw his body pillow collection

yikes :/

unfortunately didn’t take long at all for the whole school to find out, and then they never let it go

all the way up until he graduated high school :(((

it’s okay tho!

he had tons of online friends from going to conventions and stuff!!

but making irl friends was definitely hard for him when he got to college

[choi beomgyu]-

01’ liner//sophomore

absolute MENACE to your little society

he’s the guy who gets whoever is in his company to unironically admit “last night was a movie”

music major studying composition while playing guitar in a band

the girlies are FAWNING

ppl are so in love with him because he’s so pretty

but then the kid opens his mouth :/

he was the most extroverted kid

which worked perfectly bc with his good looks and personality, everyone wanted to be his friend!! :D

but with high school, friends, and all his 100 extracurriculars

kid burned out by senior year :(

his last year of school, he totally ghosted his friends and stayed inside all day playing video games

(he actually got diamond 1 on LoL, boy is nothing if not determined)

eventually rumors went around that he got dropped and turned into a social outcast

but he didn’t really care since he was fine with rotting away the rest of the school year

by the time he got to college, he wanted nothing to do with things that would suck his already nonexistent energy

[kang taehyun]-

02’ liner//freshman

the one that always has the braincell

and really wishes he didn’t so he could escape yall

stem major for engineering, which is just another one of his controversial choices (being second only to befriending yall)

everyone on campus knows him as that one guy you go to when you need the answers to your homework or your final

yeah, he’s selling the test answers on the black market :P

what? he’s in DEBT

he never gets suspected tho bc he alrdy knows all the answers, so why would he be involved with that??

but the rest of the town?

well, the town knows him as terry

mans is always seen at the gym and the club pulling without even trying

this is TOTALLY contrasting to his high school life, where he literally only gave his time of day to his studies

mans did not have TIME to hang out with anybody

bc of this, he became a bit of an easy target to the one-dimensional jocks that tried to use him to get them better grades :(

he was a small kid, so he got picked on and tossed around a lot :(((

it’s okay, since he’s buffer than them now!! >:)

[huening kai]-

‘02 liner//freshman

maknae that’s more mature than ALL OF YOU

he acts like he isn’t, but kid grew up a MIDDLE CHILD between TWO SISTERS

they’d managed to craft the most perfect and thoughtful angel to grace south korea

except for his demonic laugh :/

but YOU GUYS LOVE IT!!

he’s coasting through college, wishing he could tell you what major he was

but boy is constantly changing it LMAO

he just loves learning about different subjects!!

not to mention he’s good at most things he tries

so he makes tons of friends!!

but he didn’t always :(

from middle to high school, he was THE band kid

he could play the guitar, percussion, trombone, and piccolo!!

so when little kai walked home in his minecraft hoodie carrying his giant instrument case

8/10 times kid would get pelted by eggs or something on the way home

good thing he had his trombone case to shield him!! :D

kai would also be insanely awkward and didn’t have good icebreakers besides his plushie collection

too bad that didn’t become socially acceptable for another few years

[y/l/n y/n]-

‘01 liner//sophomore

ladies and gentlemen i give you

her

the group's resident photographer, despite the fact that you're SO HOT

you are beauty

you are grace

well, you are now

high school: not so much

you were LOSER #1 girlie ://

you were just a little slow to pick up on a lot of social cues and what was "cool" or not, making you prone to awkward situations and bullying

for example: pinky promises and saying “on god” was quirky and acceptable, but spit shakes were not

neither were bowl cuts

or pretending to drown at the school pool and see how everyone would react

like i said, you were behind on a lot

but what took you the longest to learn—the people you thought were your friends were no longer laughing with you and your unfortunately timed puns, but at you (and your unfortunately timed puns) :(((

but you digress, because your overactive imagination worked to your advantage of getting clout and a full ride scholarship!!

you’re an art major with a minor in photography, winning a national photography contest that got the attention of your college

your genius piece of "different kinds of falls in public", where you purposefully tripped people walking by you and taking photos of them, had won the heart of the public and the school board over to the point of them begging to have you!

your parents and teachers just wished you had the same genius outside of cameras--as you slacked off in every other academic aspect

notes: enjoy me being unfunny but having a blast anyway! feel free to send in asks/requests regarding this fic. can't guarantee i'll respond to it, but i'd love to see what you guys think/want!

#txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #huening kai #txt fluff #txt smau #txt crack #yeonjun #soobin #taehyun #kai #hueningkai #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #the losers club

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Ocean is She(One-Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: Loki's POV summary till the Season 4 Midseason Finale.

Word Count: I just sort of poured out whatever I felt for this dude. Which all shades of sad mostly.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"This is Y/N. She is here to complete her college degree. She will be living here for now." That was the first time Loki saw you.  You stood out like a lost firefly in that lounge among the crowd of broken people on Hero Syndrome. While everyone was giving him the stink eye, you passed a flat smile towards his direction before being pulled by the others into questioning. What is someone like her doing here? Loki was meant to have it as a passing thought. But that passing thought slowly percolated into his life in the form he never really thought he would meet again- a friend. "It's okay, I'll have another one." You smiled at him when he took your cup of green tea your first morning there. And Loki would never admit to his ego that the first act of unadulterated kindness had made his heart sink a little into an unnamed ocean before covering it up with 'this woman must have an ulterior motive'. Ulterior motive. Loki was 'on guard' since then, trying to figure you out. You knocking on his door to join the others for a movie night, making him those heavenly molten chocolate lava cakes on his birthday, buying rings and bracelets that reminded you of him, falling asleep in his presence in the library, asking him to help you study for your exams, sending him pictures of cats on the campus, sharing latest memes with him to keep him up to date; everything you did was seen as motive of some bigger game for the God who had once fallen and twice died. But seemingly, he killed a part himself the day he told you about your origins and you did not blame him for a single second. And nothing was the same for God afterwards.

He started paying more attention to you. His initial reason was that unlike the clowns infesting the building always high on either adrenaline or coffee, you were a specimen that he could study. Right. He was studying how you had a habit of cracking your neck every hour no matter what you did. How you would interact with inanimate objects with emotions, like looking at your assignment on the laptop and asking it with tears in your eyes, 'Why won't you conclude yourself in a way that's not gibberish?!'; or how you would gently pat the car and say thank you whenever you arrived at your destination. How your eyes would light up every time you saw a little spawn of the dogs or cats and your voice would go higher to greet them. He was amused by how your calm persona would do a one-eighty when your menstruation cycle was on the verge of bleeding days. That was the exciting part of his day during the cycle- sitting close to your sweatshirt and shorts-clad figure sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV, watching you threaten anyone who passed the hall. That's all you were to him- an amusing human who helped him pass his days on earth. At least that is what he had convinced himself of, never realising how his day would start by coming out of his room looking for you. How he would take a tour of the entire Avengers facility to find you and when he did, he would play himself off non-chalantly. He did not seem to let himself know how he would automatically come to stand by your side whenever he was to leave the facility and go out into the world. 

The narrator's heart often wonders how he could not see himself getting attached to you. Like that one time, he was the only one up beside Scott and Tony when you were out partying with your college friends; how he pretended to be drowned in a philosophy book while Tony worked on his robot babies and Scott watched the Kaichowa Maid Sama anime; how he intently listened to the phone call Scott got and he immediately recognised your voice even though he sat a bit far; how he heard your slurred words say 'Scottieeeeeee~ please take me home. I am drunkkkk and I kindaaaa don't want to stay heeeere'. "Of course, honey," Scott replied, "but it'll take me an hour to reach-" "Then send someone who'll be faaaaaasterrrrr~" you whined on the line.  Scott looked in the direction of the elevator, wondering whether to call Stark from his workshop when Loki slammed his book shut. "Turn on the sink tap," Loki commanded a confused Scott as he vanished with green and golden hues only to land on the campus grounds in a poorly lit park where you were sitting in the cold grass, your phone still to your ears. "Scott," you whispered into the phone, "you don't understand. I am drunk and I am feeling these waves of horny-ness but I do not want to do it with anyone here!!!" "Let's go home," Loki announced as he stood in front of you, waiting for you to take his hand. And boy did he feel his heart do another dip in that unknown ocean when you smiled at the God with a shade of relief and hugged him the moment you were up on your legs. "Thank you for coming for me." The wave of feeling his heart about to take another dunk into that ocean, he immediately teleported back with you, making sure both you and he landed right next to the sink to help you puke your wobbling guts right into the sink.

As time passed, Loki grew more used to your presence. From sitting together at breakfast and sharing one cup of tea to having reading sessions in his room on his bed. You were one of the rare ones who were allowed to enter his sacred space. No one knew but he thoroughly enjoyed the waves of emotions that would run over your features at different times when you became too engrossed in a manga. Sometimes it was your uncontrollable laughter where you read the same pages again and again; other times it was the repeated punches you threw either on your thigh or on the bed when you found yourself being impressed by something. But then there were the times when you would be in tears when one of your favourite characters died, and you could not stop yourself and Loki would look at you, with the intensity of the moon, wanting to stop time and do something...anything to stop you from crying. 

He did get tested for his belief of looking at you as a specimen. That one time when you and Hope fell into the other end of the universe. This God was ready to draw blood if it meant bringing you back in one piece. Once you were home safe, he could not help but overthink as to why did what he did for you. You were a mere human.  You were not supposed to mean much to him. You were just his amusement. Right? Just his amusement. The very amusement who stood in a barren alien land in front of the most delirious alien army, making Loki calculate in one point two seven seconds how he was about to lose his sleep for the next three months if he was to keep you alive while trying to find a way back home. Home.  Earth isn't my home, he would mentally slap himself back to reality whenever he caught himself thinking of the Avengers facility and the other clowns. But then he would turn to look at you.  Earth was your home. And going home would make you happy. He wanted to see you happy. Another mental slap to his head. You are losing your edge, Loki, he would bully himself to keep himself cold and calculating throughout that demanding journey of looking after you and the monster you had adopted on your way. And of course, Javi.

Any other day, any other life, any other universe, Loki would have punched the numbers as to how useful you were to him dead or alive and then be his way once you fulfilled your purpose of helping him survive. But here, he was doing the basing math of making sure to get you out of all the darkness of the universe unharmed. But life, as we know, has other plans. The music genre too changes when the playlist is on random and the heart is set on adventure for one and survival for another. Aellae came as the genre of dread and darkness. Being well aware of her obsession and abuse of power, Loki knew she would see you as a threat; for she knew the God of Mischief never travelled in a pack unless that pack had Loki's prey or something Loki wanted to keep close. So his first thought was to call in the seven Gods while 'ditching' you in the middle of a desert. Little did he know that you too were thinking from your heart in that space and time. As much as he hated to see you come for his rescue, he would never give up on the time when you two were stuck in that small space in Aellae's dungeons, trying to find a way through the room, bodies covered in sweat, your back and his front finding the angles to become one as you both pushed your way out. How synchronous were your bodies working together, how you readily trusted him with touching you in a way he would never want to witness you being touched by anyone. Why was he thinking that way? All those questions, all those confusions, all those hours of his inside voices bullying him to see you as nothing but a human ticket to a life of peace back on earth- all of them burst with the brittleness of the snow that fell on you as your lifeless figure lay in his arms. This time when his heart sank into the ocean, it did not want to come up. The God could not sense anything but fear crawling on his skin when his hand touched your face and it did not feel warm anymore. Your usually cheerful eyes did not open when he called out your name again and again. The fear he had felt when he first found himself dying when he wanted to live, was nothing in that moment when he was faced with the reality that you might be dead. And just as that little speck of possibility crossed his mind, the hell inside him broke loose, causing a wave originating from his magic destroying everything within a radius of two kilometers. Ever since he was born, Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, the Silvertongue, took to his knees for the first time for a life that was not his. He begged for your survival at the cost of his own, no longer denying himself from the truth. His heart did not come up from that ocean that carried your name on every atom in its waves. You were his reason to laugh. You were his reason to be curious in this life. You were his reason to look forward to getting up the next morning.  You had been the reason he had not gone for Plan B of running away from Earth and ending in the bosom of some dying star that would end his misery.  You were the reason he was willing to live a little longer. You were the reason he was ready to love again. 

Even when back from the horrors of the universe, Loki did not stop looking after you. He let Peter in on the secret of your near-death experience because he trusted that boy and he knew how much he cared for you. Both he and the boy would discreetly look for signs of you experiencing any discomfort. Taking shifts in the night, they would help you get out of your nightmares- which were the after-effects of healing you back to life right from the arms of death herself. Loki grew more protective of you but would distance himself whenever found himself feeling whatever little ounces of happiness his heart felt in your company. He would walk the extra mile of punching a man in his face for disrespecting you but he found himself pretending to laugh at your heartfelt confession because his heart could not bear the truth of knowing that you loved him back. You loved him. You, the perfection that walked amongst mere peasants. Loved. Him. And he laughed. He laughed hard enough to hide his tears of happiness that hurt him to the point of no return. He could not let you do that. You were too precious. Too precious to be put in danger again. He was the danger. He brought death to you. He would rather die than do that to you ever again.  And so the God decided to walk away, let out his screams in the middle of the desert to kill his heart for finding love in this lifetime and then hating the fact that it loved him back. The God was no better than a human then. He was in love. But he could hold on to that love for the fear of breaking it with his ill fate.

#loki #loki series #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki x female reader #marvel fluff #mcu loki #mcu fluff #It's The Avengers #Maladaptive Ninja Returns

[wolfs-archive]

"So what? Does that change my love towards you?" Part 2

Masterlist || Part 1 || Part 3

Summary: A casual day to the coffee shop makes Hyunjin fall in love with barista Y/N who is also a student but with a different major at the same college, hiding his identity he catches up casually and they fall in love initially. What happens when Y/N finds the true identity about Hyunjin. Read more to know what happens.

Pairing: Student!Hyujin X BaristaFemaleStudent!Y/N

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive, mentions of marriage, drunk confessions.

Note: This is Part 2 to the "So what? Does that change my love towards you?". The Hyunjin or the other members mentioned here are no where related to the idol Stray Kids and are just a fictional character. Minors DNI please!!!

"The semester exams are finally over, yayy!!" exclaimed Y/N. "That means I'll not get to see you the next 10 days" pouted Hyunjin. "Ah, look at you, we can still talk over the phone have video calls an what not. Just 10 more days and we can meet again" she responded. "But nothing comes to meeting my Y/N in real" he said caressing her face. "Do you really need to go?" he asked. "Yes, Hyune, my parents are waiting for me, shouldn't I go meet them" she said pinching his nose. "Ok fine" he said.

The college closed for vacation. Y/N left to her hometown and spent her time with her parents. One night, she was busy reading a story book, her mom had called her to have dinner, she went and when she came back, she realised the windows to her room were open. As it was snowing outside, she went to close the windows, when she saw a human figure, hiding behind her curtains. "Aaaaaahhhhhh" she shouted, immediately the person behind the curtains came out to shut her mouth. Seeing who it was she was shocked. Immediately she heard her mom asking what the matter was, to which she replied that it was a big sized cockroach. She then told her that she threw it outside the window. Then immediately went to close her doors and locked it. "Hyunjin, what are you doing here at this time?" she whisper shouted as she glanced the clock to check the time. "I called you a number of times, you didn't pick my call so I came" he said. "She went to check her phone. "Oh, it was in silent mode. May be that's why I guess" she said chuckling. "He sat next to her, pulling her in a tight hug whispering to her ears," I missed my Y/N, I wanted to meet her. Wait a minute. Did you just call me a cockroach, that too a big one? Usual Hannie is called as a bug. Do you know what this cockroach does?" he said as he leaned forward for a kiss. "What?" Y/N asked with a smirk, as she pulled him by the collar. "Hyunjin's girl friend is becoming bolder day by day" commented Hyun. "If you don't like it then I won't do it" she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she listened to the way he adressed her. "Who said that?" he said, as he kissed her. The kiss came to a stop when Y/N heard a knock on the door. "Oh my god, I'm done for. My parents would kill me, hide under the bed" she said. "Coming" she said as she went to receive the door. "Y/N, you forgot your glass of milk" her dad said. "Thanks dad" she said, as she closed the door. Hyunjin who hid under the bed came out. "What did you say" he asked "I thanked my dad" she said. No not that before that he said, with a grin on his face. "Coming" she said. "Want to?" he asked. "What no, Nothing of those sort now, anything you want you can have your Y/N after marriage. Ok?" she asked. Knowing how adamant she was with that particular topic, he said "Ok fine". Y/N walked towards the bed, made Hyunjin sit on the soft mattress and leant on him. "Hyune, 2 more days and we would meet anyways. You didn't have to come so long to meet me" she said. "It's okay Y/N, I came because I love you." he said. "If you love her, you should struggle to come, not tag us along too" said Seungmin and Felix who had struggled to climb up the windows of Y/N's house. "Come in Felix and Seungmin" Y/N invited as she handed them a glass of water each. "Bro, you should come for your love, why should we too wait?" asked Felix. "You could have called me" said Hyunjin. "We tried, you left your phone in the car and we literally waited for 3 hours before deciding to climb up" Seungmin said. "Sorry, I didn't know you were all coming too. You can take Hyunjin away now" she said giggling. "Y/N ah, I don't want to go" he said with a dramatic gasp. "2 more days baby" she said and all the three left the way they came up earlier.

2 days later, college started and on the third day, when Y/N was working her part time at the cafe she heard the manager calling out everyone for a small meeting. "Today we have another person joining our Stay Cafe" she said as she clapped her hands. Seeing who it was, Y/N's face lit up. "Y/N will explain your duties. Dismiss!!!" she said "Hwang hyunjin, what are you doing here" asked Y/N. "I didn't want to stay away from my Y/N, so I joined the Stay Cafe to stay with her till I get tired" he said. She smiled and the duo started working together.

Later, one day in the university, Chan and Hyun had gone to the Computer department. "You know what, you are distracting me, once I see you, I'm not able to concentrate the entire day" she said hitting his chest. "Is it? Then I'll come everyday, so you can think of me everytime." he replied with a smirk. "Can you both have your flirting a little later, I'll leave after telling her why I came here" he said. "Sorry Chan, didn't notice you" she replied with her tongue sticking outside. "Yea, I get it. That's how love is" he said. "Jokes apart, It's my birthday the day after, I'm planning to throw a small bday party. I really wish it would be nice, if you could make it, and yea please bring Lily too." he said. "Sure Chan, but do you want me to come or was it for Lily to come" she asked with a smirk. "It's.... ". he said as he placed a hand on his head. "Ok, I get. Don't worry, If you really like Lily, I can help you" she said. "Deal" he said with a thumbs up. "Deal" she responded with the same gesture.

"Thank you Y/N for coming and thank you for coming Lily" he said. Hyunjin was stunned seeing how, beautiful Y/N was. In his 6 months of dating her, he never ever had seen her so beautiful. He was completely mesmerized by her and he was too stunned to speak. "Hwang, what are you looking at like this?" she asked. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? You are literally breathtaking. Y/N you are doing something to me now, I don't know to describe it." he said. "Mr. Sexy Dynamite Hwang, don't make this bday party into a gender reveal party please" commented Han. "Get a room the 2 of you" Changbin said. "Ok, let's start the party" said I.N as Lee Know brought the pre ordered cake to the table. After the cake cut ceremony, Chan called everyone for a toast, and started partying. In the meantime, Y/N who didn't know she had low tolerance consumed an alcohol with high alcohol content, making her drunk. To make her sober, Hyunjin took her out. Upon reaching the lawn, "Y/N sit down and have some water" he said. "No, I want you to feed it for me" she said sheepishly. He smiled and fed her water. A few minutes later, she got up to adjust herself, lie on Hyunjin's lap gazing the stars. "Do you know what? I have the best boyfriend in the world. He is the most handsome, no no he is the most sexy. That is why he is called Sexy Dynamite Hwang" she said whispering the name. Looking at Y/N he started giggling. She then looked up at him and said, "I don't know if I have ever told you how much I love you. I fell for you the day I saw you at Stay Cafe. That day you were busy to notice me, but I liked you starting that day. The day following that, I really felt happy when you came back to me. Knowing you were Lee Know's and I.N's friend made things even more comfortable. Even if you hadn't asked me out or confessed to me, I would have tried my best to sweep you of your feet." caressing his face, she further added, "You know how I wish to live my life fully with you? I want us to get married, have kids, how many kids do you want?" she asked. "2, a boy and a girl" he replied. "See, that's why we match each other. That's exactly how I want it. A boy and a girl named Hwang Ho jun, and Hwang Hye in, we can grow old together, have fun, raise kids and have a happy life" she said. Tears flooded, as he realised how much she loved him and that his love was nothing when compared to him. But before he could say anything, Y/N passed out. Lifting her in bridal's style, he took her to his room to make her sleep. "A boy and a girl named Hwang Ho jun and Hwang Hye in" said a voice as he came out from his room. "How did you hear it?" asked Hyunjin who was mocked by Lee Know. "Y/N was loud enough to be heard by everyone" he said smirking. "He choice of names seems to be niceright?" he asked flustered. "Yea" said Han.

Few more days had passed, one fine day, when Lee Know, Seungmin went to the cafe, "Y/N, we want to see Hyunjin's barista skills. Don't prepare our order." said Seungmin. "Hyunjin ah, you do it for us" he said. Rolling his eyes, he went to add ice to the cup "How dare you ask me to do it for you, come to the dorm Seungmin, I'll air fry you." he snapped. "Irrespective of who you are you decided to do it for Y/N right?" Lee Know commented. "What's goin on, who are you? Why do you want to air fry our Seungmin" Y/N asked. Realising the blunder Hyun made, he tried to gloss off the conversation which Y/N found unusually strange. "If you don't tell it to me now, I'm not talking to you" she said with slightly fuming face. Surrendering, Hyunjin said, "They wanted me to do this work because they have never seen me doing it for others, because I usually don't it coz I'm not used to it, they have always taught me how to do chores, so never ever had they thought that I would work here." he replied. "What, you are talking like the son of some big businessman" she chuckled making fun of him. "I...I am" he said. It took a moment for her to register what she heard. That moment she left everything as it was and left the cafe.

2 weeks passed by, there was not a day Hyunjin went to the computer department to talk to her, only to find her absent. When the group summoned Lily to ask about Y/N's whereabouts, "Hyunjin, after her parents and sister, you were the one she loved the most. She didn't expect you to be from an affluent family. She really cried the whole night that she started running a fever. To forget about you, she...." she started. "Tell me Lily, please it has been 2 weeks since I have slept or eaten properly, not to mention she is not attending my calls either" he complained. "..... she has gone to her home" Lily completed.

Back in her home, Y/N had felt so sick, that she refused to eat or sleep properly. When their parents asked her what it was, she said she was not physically feeling well. As parents who took concern about their daughter, they left it loose but one day, "Y/N, I know you don't want dad to butt into your problems, but as parents we can't stand to see our child like this. Loosing one child was already a hell going experience. We don't want to loose you too. If you really feel like sharing the trouble with us, we are all ears" her dad said. Y/N listening to the consoling words of her parents started to burst into tear and explained them her love life and how it was on the brink of a break up. Her parents after listening to it, "Y/N, I get why you don't want to talk to Hyunjin, but I also know that you are not a coward like your sister to choose death rather than fighting for your own love. If you want something always fight for it no matter what the outcome is. You'll have satisfaction that you at least tried. Death is always not a solution" advised her parents. The words of her parents made Y/N think about her thoughts to break up. That's when she felt, "Why not fight for Hyunjin rather than fighting for death" after all Hyunjin was the love of her life.

As Y/N was packing her bags to leave her house to meet Hyunjin and share her made up mind. The bell rang, and Y/N's mom was met with Hyunjin, he introduced himself and pleaded if he could speak with Hyunjin. Seeing Hyunjin's pathetic state, her mom said, "Hey Hyunjin, Y/N told about you, she is packing upstairs to meet you don't worry, you can go meet her". He thanked her and went upstairs. When he knocked on the door, "Come in" Y/N said. He opened it, and before she could see who it was, she was engulfed in a hug and met with a kiss. The warmth feeling made her realise who it was, and as tears started to spring through her eyes, she said," Do you know why I don't like affluent men? My sister....."she was cut by Hyunjin who said, "I know Y/N, your sister..... my intention was not hide it from you...."I know I'm from an affluent background. So what? Does that change my love towards you?" he asked "But do you know what? Unlike my sister, I have decided to fight for my love" she said. "Y/N my parents are not like other parents, they literally love me whole heartedly, though they run a business or our college, they have never stopped me from doing what I have always wanted to do. That's why I chose designing and they were fine with it. Also, they would really love you and cherish you once they see that you are the person who makes their son happy. My mom has always said that love is something that cannot be forced and that I have the rights to choose who I love or marry provided she should be a good person and not be a gold digger. I know about you. Surely my parents will be happy to see you and make you their daughter-in-law" he said. A rush of relief spread over her as she listened to the words that came out from him, "You know what, you suck as a barista, so please quit it." she said. "Then how'll I see you" he said as he placed his head on the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry Hyune, for hurting you, I should have faced you not run away". "I'm sorry too, I should have too told you about myself" he said. "Can you please now leave me, I'll pack and we can go together?" she asked. "I'll never leave you, you are stuck with me for eternity" he said as he pressed a kiss on her temple.

#skz #stray kids #y/n #bang chan #christoper bang chan #han #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #lee know #yang jeongin #lee minho #seo changbin #changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x y/n #skz hyunjin #seungmin #kim seungmin #leefelix #lee felix #chris #skz chris #lee felix yongbok #felix #I.N #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #yang jeogin #hyunjin skz

[mosquito-queen]

so soft/painful Yelena POV Bishova

Yelena can't cook. She's a weapon. She's a monster (she tells herself). Her "dinner" most nights of her life was a ration bar if it was anything. She knows how to filet a man's flesh with a knife, not a pork loin. She knows WHAT a PB&J is. Can she make one? Barely. The bread is half shredded from the knife and the jelly isn't spreading right. The box mac and cheese is only saved by the instructions on the package.

Kate never really learned to cook, but she can make basics. Can of soup, pack of ramen, box of mac and cheese. Yelena adores it all. She hates it all. Why is Kate taking care of someone so broken? Why is Kate kissing her and loving her? Why is Kate holding her close in bed? Why is Kate inviting her to parties at college?

Yelena hates it. She loves it. She wants to hide and never be found. She wants to bury her face in Kate's chest and listen to that steady heartbeat for days. She wants to never taste food again. She wants to go on a rampage through the food trucks of New York with Kate and try everything twice.

Yelena's scared. She's happy. She's terrified. She's in love. She's human. She's a monster.

STOP I LOVE THIS. thank you <3 i’m going to add:

yelena’s hand freezes when she goes to pour dry kibble into the bowls for lucky and fanny. god, the food in the red room sometimes looked just like this. her eyes gloss over. thinks she was a dog in a past life - this life - chained in a basement, beat when she barked and beat when she forgot to bite. her life revolved on the hand that opened the door to give her slim rations. sit, down, roll over, heel.

kate comes home to a crime scene in the kitchen: brown paper bags, stained newspapers, blood, a knife, eggshells… blueberries? a full bag of dog food peaking out from the trash.

“yelena?”

yelena’s back is to her, she’s scrubbing her hands in the sink. meticulous.

kate takes out her earbuds, forgets she’s too sweaty from the run to be touching someone, and lets her fingers ghost across yelena’s arm.

she tries again: “yelena?”

yelena stops scrubbing. the water still runs. she exhales, slowly turns to look at kate, blinking the frenzied panic out of her eyes, “i don’t want them to - i want - no more dry food. okay?”

it takes kate a few moments to figure out what she’s talking about, sees the dog bowls in the drying rack, “oh, yeah, okay. that’s okay. we can do that.”

“and a yard. with their own door.”

“in new york city?” kate is turning off the water, softly pulling yelena’s hands out of the sink and into a towel. she’s drying off water and hurt and panic and memories that should only be nightmares.

yelena repeats: “their own door,” watching kate squeeze the dish towel up her arms and back down. she feels herself returning, feels like she’s waking up again.

“alright, i’m sure there’s something.” she glances over to where the two dogs are sprawled out in the living room, “but if they’re getting real food, we need to figure out something better for us than living off ravioli and mac and cheese.”

and that’s how they find themselves taking a cooking class, where kate learns yelena used to have family dinners. kate is hellbent on figuring out how to recreate yelena’s favorite meal. and when kate finally, painstakingly cooks it as a surprise, yelena cries.

she cries and kate thinks it’s because she ruined it, starts apologizing, her heart dropping. she fucked it up. but yelena is furiously shaking her head, pulling kate into a hug, pulling kate into a love that outshines the sun. and kate sinks into it, holds her tighter, says something yelena didn’t know she needed: “let me take care of you.”

#ty anon the food relationship is so interesting to explore ! love your mind and writing #my asks #bishova #kate x yelena #bishlova

[thetetra]

Alright so I was reminded of a story which I call "Librarians bite"

I tried college on for size 4 or 5 times before it really stuck and I went all the way towards a major (I accidentally got a double major, on accident, but that's another story).

My last go at it I was pretty good at it and I was very enthusiastic about the library and how it was a no judgement zone. You can show up a complete moron and the help desk will help you IF you go in early enough. I always told people "Its okay Librarians don't bite!"

So due to my many attempts at college my required courses were all screwed up. So my last term I had to take "how to write a research paper" after I had that shit on lockdown. So I decided to have fun with it and research "A medieval technology that hasn't changed even to this day". Which was harder than I thought.

Horse tack! how to harness a horse has to be something they mastered in... oh in the 1800s they figured out a better way. Okay well how about .... oh umm no. Finally I gave up and decided to write about soap because it went ALL THE WAY!!! till the 50s and 60s then got replaced by detergent. Sure there's technology that hasn't been replaced at all but none that was distinctly medieval and not upgraded since then. So fuck it soap it is.

I get to the library and I find plenty of books on the first instances of soap (Romans wrote down that the Gauls had this red hair product that looked like blood... due to all the blood in it) the original uses (man this shit really softens up fibers for weaving!) and then I started looking for books that talked about the switch to detergents. Nope, 1960 is too recent. BUT there are industry magazines that talk about detergents between 1950 and 1960.

So off to the microfiche collection!

I looked the appropriate section up, pulled the editions I wanted and... its perfume. Lovely article about how pheromones are too delicate and break down so we can't actually put human pheromones in perfumes (uhh wat?). So I go and look it up again. Same section same problem. I googled the Dewey decimal system and made sure I had it right... according to my best reckoning I did.

Okay off to the help desk. I show up with the microfiche in hand and immediately have to explain "no no I can operate the machine that's not the problem" and start explaining my issue. The help desk clerk does all the double checking I just did and eventually decides "yeah you didn't fuck this up" (paraphrased).

So I get to talk to the help desk librarian and... it just so happened that she was the keeper of the microfilm and microfiche collections. We confirmed that I had 2 weeks till my paper was due, that I had looked for other sources and found them and then we finally went al looked at the microfiche.. we again confirm that I have the right Dewey decimal system spot. And then the change happened. She was skeptical, ahe was stern, but she was helpful and respectful.

Then she (a 5'2" 100lbs woman) grabbed my (6' 300 lbs man) arm and dragged me along like I was a kite in a storm. a tiny scared kite in a big scary storm.

I am a large guy. I have always been larger than my peers. I have learned that I have to take steps to not appear scary. I am respectful of boundaries and rules, I don't raise my voice or show any extreme of emotion. So when I got dragged into the back room STAFF ONLY rooms of the library I was uncomfortable. I was then dragged into offices, disrupted phone calls and breaking up meetings. these calm Clark Kenteon librarians became an ironic barbarian horde who were going to ransack the world till their archives were restored to good order. Minime Logos Minime Pax ( pardon my poor Latin).

Once they were assembled, me still held firmly by the wrist, my librarian told the tribe of my tale of academic woe. Looks of anger and shock made homes on everyone's faces. I can still remember my librarian being so angry that she bit the air with every word. like she was devouring the fabric of existence itself in an attempt to sate her hunger.

Then a very precise and orderly pecking order of people spoke up. First a librarian who was in charge of usage statistics spoke on how the information I was requesting had not been looked at in more than 20 years. Next a librarian who was in charge of what was on the floor and what was in storage spoke up and expressed how the perfume trade magazines were supposed to be in storage and the chemical industry available because we had an active chemistry department.

Thusly in short order the storage location was put on the conference call phone and queried about what was in the box that was supposed to hold the perfume trade magazine microfiche. 5 minutes of rummaging on the phone and we had confirmation, my chemical trade magazines talking about detergent were directly swapped.

a courier was immediately dispatched to bring me my requested study materials and I was finally unhanded, guided to a study room and sat down while they brought me print outs of everything I asked for... printing fee waived.

So now I tell people that you should go to the library and to have plenty of time before your paper to find and checkout needed study materials... but I no longer say that librarians don't bite.

#research #academia #library #librarians #book #books #microfiche #I believe that librarians are cryptids now #cryptid #psychological horror #I shouldn't be alive #true stories #humorous anecdote

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group B Round 3: #B4 vs #B7

#B4: Human falls in love with an android

#B7: Kid epicly procrastinates during class

Details and poll under the cut!

#B4: Plastic Memories

Summary:

Eighteen-year-old Tsukasa Mizugaki has failed his college entrance exams, but after pulling some strings, he manages to land a job at the Sion Artificial Intelligence Corporation. SAI Corp is responsible for the creation of “Giftias”—highly advanced androids which are almost indiscernible from normal humans. However, unlike humans, Giftias have a maximum lifespan of 81,920 hours, or around nine years and four months. Terminal Service One, the station Tsukasa was assigned to, is responsible for collecting Giftias that have met their expiration date, before they lose their memories and become hostile.

Promptly after joining Terminal Service One, Tsukasa is partnered with a beautiful Giftia named Isla. She is a Terminal Service veteran and considered the best in Giftia retrievals, contrary to her petite figure and placid nature. Time is fleeting though, and Tsukasa must come to terms with his feelings for Isla before her time is up. No matter how much someone desires it, nothing lasts forever.

Propaganda 1:

This anime is a heart-wrenching masterpiece. It is slow, tender, and incredibly cathartic. The art is beautiful, and the story is enchanting. Of all the random anime I watched in middle school, this one really stuck with me.

Propaganda 2:

My brother and I watched it together. He ugly sobbed at it so hard, he had to go stand outside and weep down the phone to someone and my mom thought that he’d received news of someone’s actual death. He was okay, though, I promise

Trigger Warnings: [Not Stated]

#B7: Tonari no Seki-kun: The Master of Killing Time

Summary:

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

Propaganda 1:

Seki-kun is the sort of anime that stays underrated because it seems overly simple, but it really shines in its simplicity. The episodes are short tales of Seki’s epic procrastination and they’re absurdly amusing. Both the opening and ending are super funny and really well-thought-out.

It’s the anime equivalent of a hard candy. You can have an episode at the end of the day or between tasks, and it entertains you well without asking for much.

Propaganda 2:

It is a really short anime with very short episodes but is still very entertaining, and we never hear the character whose name is in the title speak but we still get a really good feel of his personality. It’s just really funny and a lot of fun to watch.

Trigger Warnings: None

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 3 #tournament polls #group b #plastic memories #plamemo #tonari no seki kun #tonari no seki-kun #tonari no seki-kun: the master of killing time #the master of killing time

[rosenallies]

Since everyone (myself included!) is loved this pajamas prompt- figured I’d throw the witch au out there? It was brought up a few weeks ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since 🖤 but I totally understand if the inspiration has faded!

witch au my babies <3333

----

"Jasmine," Willow panted, fluttering over to her shoulder, the sprite seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Willow," Jasmine replied, continuing to stir the batter of the cookies she was making, the kitchen warm and smelling of cinnamon and chai.

"Don't be difficult, I need you to go drag Bosco to bed, she's sick and refuses to stop doing shit."

The sentiment alone made Jasmine stop in her tracks, her heart aching. "Bosco's sick? Why didn't she say anything?"

"That's just how she is. But she only listens to you; Cam, Angie, and I have been trying to get her to close the spell book all morning."

Jasmine huffed, wiping her hands on her apron, and all but stomping to Bosch's witch's lair, which was really just a cozy little greenroom attached to their cottage. She hated more than anything that Bosco refused to admit when she was sick or sad or anything other than content with everything.

But her irritation diminished when she opened the door to the lair and found Bosco nearly asleep over her spell book, head slipping off of her hand.

"Bosco," she cooed, touching her too warm cheek, "You're sick."

"No, 'm not, just resting my eyes," she mumbled, voice scratchy.

"Mmhmm, nice try. Honey, let me help you to bed. Please."

Jasmine pleaded with her, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

"Come on, Jas, 'M okay."

"Please," she tried again, letting her green eyes fill with tears; partly as a tactic to get Bosco up and to bed and partly because she was genuinely worried, she didn't even know witches could get sick. What if the common cold was immortality's one vice? She couldn't lose her parter who was supposed to live forever to some sniffles and a cough, but that's where Jasmine's mind wandered to.

Bosco finally relented, hands up in defeat. "Fine, I'll go to bed. But, I'm not gonna like it."

Jasmine kissed her forehead. "You don't have to like it, Ms.Grumpy Pants, you just have to rest and feel better."

Helping her up, Bosco then leaned on Jasmine the whole way to the bedroom where Jasmine made her sit on the end of the bed while she gathered things she needed.

"Alright, I'm gonna get you comfy, okay?"

At that point, just from the small journey to their bedroom, Bosco felt exhausted so all she could do was agree, not a single protest left her lips.

"I'm gonna brush and braid back your hair first."

Jasmine spoke softly to her, gentle fingers plaiting her hair into one thick braid down her back.

"Now pj's."

She helped Bosco up, stripping her of her cloak and the black lace dress she wore underneath in exchange for some soft leggings and one of Jasmine's old hoodies from college, between the two of them who both favored sleeping nude, it was the closest thing in their closer to pajamas, Jasmine was just afraid Bosco would freeze to death had she left her to sleep nude. For whatever reason, despite the fact that they'd dressed and undressed each other countless amounts of times, this felt more intimate, vulnerable somehow as Bosco finally leaned into Jasmine's care.

"Okay, last, Tylenol? Does Tylenol work for witches? Is there something else that helps?"

"It helps," Bosco mumbled, holding out her hand and taking the pills that Jasmine pressed into her hand.

"Good," Jasmine breathed, satisfied wit her work, "now cuddles?"

That caused a small smile to spread across Bosch's lips as she settled into bed, letting Jasmine hold her, pulling the duvet up to her chin to keep out the chill that rattled her bones.

"Jazzy, you take such good care of me," Bosco muttered, tucking herself against her human.

"Just sleep, baby," Jasmine chuckled, "you can thank me when you're feeling better."

#the way I want to introduce elves into this au so I can write miss dawn as a cutie lil elf in the woods #when this just becomes woodland creature au what then? #witch au #prompt request

[fitzonomy]

Okay, so, This Guy. We'll call him Richard (Dick). I'd been talking to Dick off and on via instant messaging. We'd met through Reddit (where I meet maybe 60% of dates? 55? 55% Reddit, 44% Okc, 1% Craigslist. Yes, I've met someone via Craigslist. It's been an okay ride so far. Far better than my fetlife adventures).

Anyway, so we'd been talking and he seemed decent. I met him face-to-face at his apartment maybe four weeks ago. It was fine. We watched two episodes of The Bear together, we stayed on opposite ends of his couch, and I had an okayish time. It was okayish because I discovered he had a doctorate and I am very suspicious of people with doctorates who still teach at university (see: this blog between the years 2012-2017 to relive my nervous breakdown while I was working on my PhD). But, I'm always trying to get better about how to reserve judgement and not assume things about people. So I let it slide.

Then, about two weeks ago, I went back over to his place. We had planned on giving each other massages because 1. He'd been unable to attend a chiro appt due to illness so I offered to try and at least offer a bit of relief with some physical contact and 2. I've been touched starved and also wanted to have a bit of relief, even if it was just skin-on-skin contact.

Well, Dick and I start talking about the university. I've taught at the university level for about a decade and will be working on getting my license in teaching middle and high school math next year. I have opinions. He's not good at staying on point and I have to be patient.

He starts off with how younger students lack focus and originality. He's middle-aged so I sort of reply with, "Well, I'm very much constructivist-minded so my approach is looking at the teacher as an expert student who is supposed to help construct the knowledge in a learning environment." They're in a different place in the building process, basically, but everyone is a student and a teacher for one another.

This guy was just insistent that, oh, yeah, he's definitely one of those teachers. I mentally rolled my eyes.

So Dick asks if I want to hear what happened to him, it was bad.. Granted, REALLY bad things happened to me at all levels of my college and post-grad experience. My threshold for what "bad" is sometimes skewed. I understand that we all have our own limits and I try not to assume anything. So I say yes and let him talk without any interruptions or weird face journeys.

The tldr was: Dick reported a tenured male faculty member for sexual harassment. The department did nothing. He was very upset. When he applied for positions in a post-me too era, the department prioritized hiring women. He didn't get the job. A woman from Harvard did and she left Harvard because she had a sexual harassment against HER. He found out about it and was so upset he was sick to his stomach.

My reply: "I don't know what you want me to say."

Dick got upset, tears were welling up. "I'm a human being who is trying to relate to you an experience as another human being."

And I take in a deep breath. I try to figure out how to explain how other people might perceive the situation (aka mine at that moment).

Me: Okay, so. Here's the thing. When I hear that I know [X] things about you that are highly contextual. I know you aren't THAT person. However, I can see where someone who doesn't know you might think you're an old white cis male who is complaining about a job he didn't get.

"I'm not white," he said whitely, whitingly pushing back. "I'm Jewish."

Adonai. I apologize, but I pulled out a reverse Uno card so fast. “I was raised Jewish, so yeah, I mean... but I’m still white? Unless someone asks me or I tell them, I’m a basic white bitch rolling around in the world.” For those unaware, I have blonde hair, light-colored eyes, and am, what a shock, white. No one would ever confuse my race or ethnicity as being anything but Basic Bread European stock. Which, for the most part, is true. More importantly, No matter what I identify as, I get the privilege of not facing as many barriers walking around the world on a daily basis. To others, I’m perceived as a “nice white girl.” That’s a pretty powerful perception to ascribe to. Even more relevant, I was socialized and lived a good deal of my life as a “nice white girl.” Dick had lighter hair than me. Blue eyes. And, surprise, white skin. Since he told me he wasn’t religious and he doesn’t wear a kippah, I’m guessing that most people don’t look at him and go through the mental gymnastics of, “Well, my first thought is that this person is a straight, white, cis-man but everyone is more than the surface I see so maybe he’s actually bi-racial and he’s white passing,” or something or other. Some might, but my guess is he gets to avoid a lot of barriers. I felt like he wanted me to root for him in the Oppression Olympics. And we sort of went on like that in circles for a bit. He just couldn’t seem to grasp that other people might have different biases and perceptions of listening to him. Especially if the person listening was a person who had experienced trauma and harm in the same arena he worked. So, yeah, I left that evening with him placated. We hugged and I gave one of those friendly, “Talk to you later!” things and then immediately decided to never talk to him again. the end!

#adventures with people

[irresistiibles]

was that kathryn newton? oh no no, that was just tress, a canon character from the cosmere series. they are twenty one years old, use she/they, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long. 

how long has your character been here

i'm highkey saying she just showed up

what is your character’s job

i'm unsure. i think any shops that need someone to employ could be a cool plot for tress, but otherwise i'll probably have her wind up at a bakery or working on one of the boat tours in dc. also they're slowly taking some part time college classes

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

right now i'm in the middle of the book, so in the middle of her journey to try and save charlie. she recently entered the crimson sea, and isn't sure how they got from there to here, but there's enough magic in tress' world that they have a variety of ideas for what might have happened.

has any magic affected your character

nope!

any other info

technically her given name is glorf. this isn't really important cause they exclusively go by tress but i had to share that knowledge.

okay so! gonna do a small lore dump without too many spoilers just need to know basis

the world building in this book is wild. tress is basically from a planet with twelve seas and twelve moons (i think it's twelve lol) and all of the moons release different spores

the spores make up the ocean, not water, hence why she lives on an emerald sea

when any form of water interacts with these spores they have some sort of effect, like growing into vines, or crystals, or shards, or exploding air. sounds cool, except like humans have water all over their body, and when i say the spores interact with water i mean any water

so essentially they're very dangerous. everyone lines their hours with silver or salt cause that kills the spores

suffice to say tress is going to be pretty stressed seeing their first rainfall here.

she's from an absolutely tiny island where no one is allowed to leave, and snuck onto a ship after finding out charlie, the boy she was in love with, was shipped off to an evil sorceress

she basically accidentally joins pirates, a bunch of shenanigans occur, and now she's here.

she basically became the person who worked with the spores on the ship and she's got some with her here in washington though very carefully sealed they're just for emergencies considering they're the main way she's capable of fighting i wanted her to have some

okay!! now one tress as a character

i understand her implicitly. she would rather risk her life than potentially inconvenience someone else and that is a vibe

she loves cups!!! collects cups!! is very excited to be in a new place with a lot of new cups!

pretty naive to the world, though open to learning.

she trusts so easily though it's pretty rough, and always wants to see the best in people. i wouldn't say that she's easy to take advantage of, because tress is pretty practical and smart, but she is the type to given seven thousand second chances because she wants people to be good so badly, and will find even the smallest good trait in people when she shouldn't

smart but that doesn't mean she regularly makes good decisions it just means she will rationalize stupid shit. and so stubborn!!!

very much an overthinker. a great listener but it takes tress a minute to figure out how to talk to other people.

plot ideas

collector buddies: anyone who collects anything please. tress would happily look out for their stuff in exchange for cups and i think it would be cute

in that same vein someone to go to different antique stores with her, again for cups

a roommate. tress is easy to live with and would offer to cook meals

maybe a more difficult character for her to befriend, although tress can handle someone having some bad traits she won't just let you be an asshole to her so we'd have to feel out the vibe

anyone to help her adjust to this world. their island was so small tress can't even fathom the idea of a place where you can't see the ocean no matter where you go. this is all going to be extremely weird to her. she's a good cook. will exchange baked goods for assistance.

as mentioned up above anyone who has some sort of shop and needs an employee this could be cool

school buddies she is going to need some help

a bad influence ig? not for like full crimes but this is someone who's barely even gotten drunk before someone make her have some fun

bisexual, down for a ship, probably on the wholesome side

#hw: intro #( intro && tress ) #this is kinda long aldskfjasdf my b #but there's plot ideas lol

[dragonbinx]

Sing in the New Year

Part of my New Year’s series from last winter and my Jed Explains the Holidays series.  Posted on Ao3 here.

Series: Legacies

Ship: BenJed

Characters: Jed Tien, Ben (Legacies)

The night before New Year’s Eve, Jed went out to the Old Mill with a pen and paper to figure out his resolutions. It was mostly distraction - he knew the Squad was working on a monster problem but was trying to keep him away from it. Whether it was because they didn’t want a frail human near the action or they didn’t want to distract him from going back on the road and back to college in two weeks, he wasn’t sure. And Ben tensed up every time it even vaguely came up, so he was trying to stop himself from asking about it.

He tapped the pen uselessly, then stared up at the stars, hoping for a sudden bolt of inspiration. There wasn’t much he wanted that he wasn’t already working on, and his life had changed so much so quickly, he felt like he was still playing catchup. Trying to figure out where he wanted to go from here seemed like a lot.

“Jed?”

He peered over the edge of the top platform of the Mill where he was sitting to see Ben on the ground, glancing around the fire. “Up here,” he called, waving to catch Ben’s eye.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Thinking. You want me to come down?”

“No, I’ll join you.” He took a few running steps and leapt off the ground, grabbing the edge of the platform and pulling himself up to sit next to Jed. It was a move that showed off his arms as he pushed himself up, which, if the smirk he was wearing when Jed managed to look at his face instead of his biceps was any indication, was the point.

Jed rolled his eyes, trying to not let it show how well his little stunt had worked. “Showoff. How was working with Ms. Forbes?”

Ben tipped his head to the side, considering. “Interesting. She asked almost as many questions about you and our trip was going as she did about my experience with magic and monsters.”

Jed shrugged, overly casual, trying not to show how nice that was to hear. “I was always one of her favorites,” he low-key bragged.

“Which would explain why she made a point to remind me that one of her daughters is in possession of a god killing weapon and that she could retrieve it at any time.”

“Wow. Okay.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; any threat to Ben made his hackles rise, but the thought that Caroline still cared about him enough to give his boyfriend a shovel talk was weirdly nice.

“Mmhmm.” Ben didn’t seem very put off by it, easily changing the subject. “Tomorrow is when we celebrate the changing of the year, correct? Is there anything I should know?”

“Not really, I don’t think. There’s not as many traditions. We watch a big ball drop at midnight - no, I have no idea why, and I’m on break and you have Google, look it up.”

“Fair enough.”

“A lot of people get drunk, but you can’t, and after the last time, I’m not doing it.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched, but otherwise he looked and sounded entirely serious when he said, “But I liked it when you serenaded me. I will always love you as well.”

Jed jabbed his pen at Ben. “See? Never again. Especially now that you know how to use the camera on your phone.”

Ben picked up the hand that wasn’t holding the pen. “I would never record you without your permission.” He kissed Jed’s palm and looked up at him through his lashes. “And I do love when you sing.”

His hand flexed involuntarily and he felt his cheeks warm. “Uh, well, singing is kind of a New Year’s thing … look, we’ll talk about it later. And I definitely won’t be drunk.” Ben grinned and kissed his fingers in thanks, and Jed ran his thumb along his bottom lip before pulling his hand back. “Any other questions?”

“Yes. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m trying to come up with a resolution. Resolutions are like personal goals for the year. It could be something like how much you benchpress or the year I decided I was gonna learn guitar; or it could be something like, I resolve to keep myself open to whatever the universe sends me, that kind of crap.”

“I think you’ve mastered that one.”

Jed’s eyebrows pinched. “What do you mean?”

“You met and fell in love with me in a matter of weeks when you weren’t even aware you were attracted to men, died, became human again, and then ran away with me and started taking your university classes not long after. I’m not sure there’s anyone else in the world who can … sorry, what’s the expression? Oh, right - roll with things the way you do.”

“Huh. I guess that’s true. I never thought about it like that.”

Ben lightly knocked his shoulder against Jed’s. “How did you think of it?”

“I dunno. Life sucks most of the time, why not go after what you want when you find it? I was scrawny and had only just had my last growth spurt when I became alpha, everyone thought I’d get my ass kicked. My friends barely tolerated me when I joined the Squad. Yeah, not everything works out, but you don’t get things by not trying.” When Ben didn’t say anything, he turned to look at him. He wasn’t sure what look his boyfriend was giving him, but it was intense. “What?”

“You have no idea how brave you are,” Ben told him plainly, a slight hitch to his voice. Before Jed could think of anything to say to that, Ben pulled him into his arms, and rearranged them so Ben’s back was to the Old Mill’s exposed wall and Jed’s back was pulled to his chest. He’d realized Ben liked to hold him like this sometimes when he got overwhelmed. After years of being alone and abandoned, Ben was coping mind-blowingly well, but sometimes it was like he couldn’t communicate any more and needed to have Jed as close as he could get him. He wasn’t sure what had set it off this time, but he didn’t think it was the time to ask either, instead settling back and wrapping his arms around Ben’s.

He looked down at the pen and paper, now abandoned a few feet away on the Old Mill’s floor. And he thought about last year, when he couldn’t have imagined what he had with Ben. Not only the basic stuff, like that he’d have a super buff demigod boyfriend who liked to cuddle him, although that had certainly come as a surprise on several different levels. But mostly, that he had someone who understood him and who he understood. Who he loved and liked, and who loved and liked him back.

Maybe he didn’t need any new resolutions. He could keep being open to the universe, or whatever, keep being receptive to whatever came his way. It was working so far. Why mess with success?

And if his surprise awesome boyfriend thought he was brave, well.

“I may not always love you …”

Ben tucked his chin on Jed’s shoulder, interrupting. “That’s not a promising start.”

“But long as there are stars above you,” Jed continued, ignoring him, “you never need to doubt it, I’ll make you so sure about it. God only knows what I’d be without you.”

Ben’s snort ruffled the short hairs on Jed’s neck. “Appropriate.”

Jed twisted around to glare at him. “Sorry, was this what you wanted or not?”

“No, I want it.” Ben’s arms tightened around him. “All I want to hear is you. Please continue.”

The next night, they’d party with his friends and it would be fun, and possibly he’d get sloshed enough to do karaoke with Kaleb in front of everybody. And he’d kiss Ben at midnight - after explaining the tradition to him, he’d forgotten that one, somehow - and it would be great.

But if he was honest with himself, he hoped most of his next year would be more like tonight. This was what he wanted.

“God only knows what I’d be without you.”

#Legacies #CW Legacies #Legacies CW #BenJed #JedBen #Jed x Ben #Ben x Jed #Jedetheus #Jed Tien #Ben (Legacies) #werewolf demigod soulmates #dragonbinx fics

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Solo Number Five: 'Vampire Lab Rat'

I lie here, strapped down to a cold lab table, about to get injected with some weird serum that will make me want to feed on vampire blood. How in the Hell did I end up here? I've only been a vampire for three months. Talk about having the worse luck ever. One day I was out, minding my own business, when suddenly, out of nowhere, I get vervain-darted. Okay, that's not totally true. I needed some alone time from my boyfriend, Damon, so I decided to take a bus, venturing farther from home and ended up near the Whitmore College campus. I was wandering around, checking out all of the tasty-looking college students, when I felt this stinging pain in my back. I didn't have time to feel much pain though before everything went black. If vervain is that painful from a dart, I can't imagine what it must feel like to ingest. It kind of makes me feel sorry for all those times I kept putting vervain in my boyfriend's Bourbon. All most. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I woke up on a cold lab table, facing some guy who tells me that he wants to experiment on me and get rid of all vampires. Some guy named...Wes...or something. I really didn't care...and I still don't. What do I look like? A freaking lab rat? First he went on and on about how all vampires are monsters and deserve to die...blah blah freaking blah...at least I don't play with my food...I usually just feed on people...sometimes kill them...and then move on...so who's the real monster here? I kept trying to convince the guy that I'm not a monster...that I was human once and to let me go...but I could tell that he wasn't buying it...at all...no matter how hard I tried...over and over again. With an evil grin on his face, the creepy scientist guy sliced my eyelids off with a scalpel...and...when I wouldn't stop talking...he actually pulled out my tongue with a pair of pliers. I've never screamed so hard, or felt such pain in my life. When he was finally done torturing me for the day, he tossed me in a cell with a small shot glass of blood, before locking the door and leaving. I weakly grabbed for the glass, quickly gulping the blood down and then collapsing onto the cell floor. I lay awake most of the night, unable to sleep, staring up at the ceiling, as I could feel my eyelids and tongue slowly regrowing. Talk about a weird sensation. Well, at least I found out that vampires can regenerate parts. That's good to know. Then, this morning, he takes me out of the cell, straps me down to another cold lab table, or possibly the same one, puts tubes in my arms, attaches them up to some machine and starts draining my blood. He told me yesterday that he's found a way to exterminate all vampires...by making them feed on and kill each other and now...he's standing over me...holding a needle. I'm suddenly feeling a very 'human' emotion...total debilitating fear...but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of showing it. I feel a sharp pain as the needle stabs into my skin...and...everything again goes dark. I wake up a short time later back in my cell...with another vampire. Suddenly...I'm so hungry...my eyes go all blood shot, black veins appearing beneath as my fangs come out and I launch myself across the cell at the other vampire...plunging my fangs into the vampire's neck...quickly draining him and tearing his head off. I let the head fall to the floor, and the body instantly follows, as I lick blood from my lips. Wes films the whole thing, telling me that it was a successful test and that it's time to let me go. After that, I get knocked out with more vervain...only to open my eyes and find the cell door open and creepy Wes nowhere to be found. I climb shakily to my feet and navigate my way back through the lab until I make it outside. Now I just have to figure out a way to get back home. I pass the people by as I walk around the campus grounds, not even giving them a second glance. Human blood isn't what I'm craving anymore. I realize that going home probably isn't the best idea...since I've been turned into a damn vampire ripper...but I have nowhere else to go. Besides, I'm sure my boyfriend will know what to do.

#tvd #roleplay

[praxisia]

Chaos and Cannons and Crabs

So I'm actually in another dnd group right now. It's a pirate campaign ran by my friend Hannah. The character I'm playing is Boudica Beard, and she is a dwarf barbarian. Honestly, if I had to compare the two, she's a bit more of a serious character than my guy Percival, because Boudica has things like an actual backstory and wasn't created largely out of a joke.

We actually just played the first session the other night. Sadly we didn't come in with a full party of players, partially because it was announced as a last minute session and partially because the two people we were missing were either busy with work or with college stuff. We're going to have to figure out how to pull them into the game later on, but for the most part we were able to get a pretty decent session done.

We started off with everyone in a prison.

Well, I say prison, but it was a bit more of a jailhouse that was built on a small island off of the coast of a much larger town. I mean it did have a closet full of tools for torture, but it's a closet, so it doesn't really count for much in my opinion.

Our mission for the session was essentially to break out of prison and make our way back to the mainland. The fun part was that prior to starting the game everyone was supposed to figure out a reason for why they ended up getting arrested. It didn't really matter what it was so long as it was okayed by Hannah before the session started. The other two characters had fairly tame reasons for why they were arrested.

Timothy Took, a human fighter, and grade A moron, was arrested for reasons he can't remember. See, Timothy, or as I like to call him, Simple Tim, is a bit of a joke character. His whole gimmick is that he is a lucky idiot. He is always at the wrong place at the right time. He somehow got lost from home and has managed to not only accidentally join at least one gang of pirates, but has also managed to be the MVP amongst the crew of pirates he is currently a member of. He is that guy that manages to screw up in the best way possible but never in a way that is genuinely helpful to him. Like, his whole mission in life right now is to find his way back home, and no matter what he does, or how hard he tries, or the fact that he is like surprisingly good at making maps, he is still very, very lost.

He's got no idea how he ended up in prison, but as far as I can tell it may have had something to do with a bar fight gone wrong. And this lucky idiot managed to get tossed in prison with a girl who is apparently the nicest pirate on all the seven seas.

Shelly, a selkie thief, was arrested for stealing a set of twin swords from some sort of rich person, probably. A set of Super Cursed twin swords. As far as her or any of our characters know, it's possible the swords are cursed, but it's not a definite "Totally Fucking Cursed", you know? They did creep out Boudica upon first glance though.

Shelly is one of those robin hood type of characters. She was found as a baby by a gang of pirates and they raised her to be a good pirate. She even belongs to this sort of thieves/pirates guild that has a whole code of honor and everything. This character is also just as nice as she is reckless, which is why her first order of business after managing to free herself from her cell is to try to release every other prisoner in the room with her, and no she did not ask what they did to get arrested first AT ALL.

And finally, there's my character Boudica.

Boudica actually freed herself from her cell with her lock pick because she has thieves tools. Almost immediately after freeing herself she had to throw away the strong instinct to just sneak out on her own because Shelly and Tim decided to give her literally almost all of the common sense in the room.

That's a bit like when all of your friends declare you as the designated driver, except no one is drunk, so you're almost twice as disappointed about it.

Shelly proceeded to unlock the cell of Tim and some random drunk dude before Boudica stopped her and asked her to use critical thinking skills and not automatically assume that everyone in this prison is as nice as herself. The drunk guy? Literally just some dude who was arrested for being drunk in public. He didn’t even want to be let out, he literally told us to leave him alone so he could go back to sleeping off his booze.

The last person in the prison happened to be a human woman who also happened to be deaf. Boudica used some paper and a pencil to ask her some simple questions like “What’s your name,” and “What were you arrested for,”. Her name was Ilar, and she was arrested for theft, but she was stealing to survive, so it was okay in our eyes.

No one in the group happened to know any sign language, and it was too dark for Ilar to be able to read any of our lips anyway, so Boudica (having had her heart strings thoroughly plucked by this point) took Ilar by the hand and started writing words in her palm so that Ilar could understand her. Boudica ended up holding Ilar’s hand until they managed to get to a part of the prison where they could all see again.

After that, breaking out of prison was a piece of cake. We had all managed to find our stuff that had been taken from us when we were arrested (Boudica was really pissed when she found out the prison was trying her add her duel hand axes to their collection of torture tools) and had managed to run into a guard who really hated his job, and said guards old half blind uncle. The guard’s name was Kel and he basically guided us out of the prison and got us to a boat so we could row back to the mainland. 

I think the funniest part of this is that no one ever asked Boudica what she did to get arrested, even though her crime is the most violent one out of all of them. And what was her crime?

She cut off a man’s ear and forced him to eat it.

:)

#dnd shenanigans #dnd #dnd adventures #boudica beard #chaos cannons and crabs