#I had this in my inbox for quite sometime and I finally DREW IT

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I read something that you said Scud liked to be recorded and I’m actually foaming at the mouth at the idea of that because it’s so real. I NEED a fic for that. So glad I found someone with a Scud obsession as bad as mine

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

THE GOOD GOOD: FemDom!Reader x Sub!Scud, recording during sex, lots of teasing, and edging, bit of bondage, your much needed dose of pegging, and scud crying during sex, don't forget the hair pulling

GUYS I LOVE SCUD SO MUCH I ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIM MY PRECIOUS LITTLE ANGEL

I'm really trying to get my drafts cleared out LOL hopefully sometime soon I'll have a big major posting spree and then I can start working on my inbox

I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS AUUUGH IDK WHY I LET THEM ALL PILE UP SOMEONE KILL ME

The idea of Scud being recorded is still my favorite because I feel like he'd be so nervous under the lens, trying to hide from it and not be seen but he'd still end up looking like a slutty pornstar (my precious pornstar)

also scud in lace. its been on my mind for I don't even know how long at this point.

You sighed as you walked down your complex's dingy, dimly lit hallway, silently hoping that Scud wouldn't be too mad at you for coming home so late into the night. After all, you had told him that you would only be about ten more minutes, but that had been almost an hour ago.

Things got a little out of hand, nothing you couldn't deal with sure but it was quite an inconvenience. A short, fifteen-minute task had easily turned into a full job, one that included running around the shop looking for spare parts. With what you had learned from Blade and Scud, it didn't take long to find all the little pieces you needed, and even a reward for yourself.

"Scud! I'm back! Look at what was in the shop" You called out to him when you jingled your keys in the lock and swung the front door to your apartment open, eagerly kicking off your shoes as you toyed with the little camcorder you had come across, flipping through the random pictures on it. There was no clear indicator of who's camera exactly, but you had always loved photography, so just one day with it wouldn't hurt anyone.

There was no response to your voice, the apartment barely lit and quiet, soft thumping coming from you and Scud's shared bedroom. He was probably playing on his PS2 with his headphones in, loud music blasting at levels you’ve already scolded him for.

As you padded through the cozy living room, you pointed your camera at random things and took little cameos of them, making your way down the short and narrow hall towards the room where you could see some of the orange lighting spilling out through a crack in the door.

You approached, about to call out Scud’s name once again as the soft thumping faded into a rhythmic beat, a Lady Gaga track when you finally stopped short in front of the door, pushing it open a bit and poking your head through, combing hair out your eyes as your mind drew a blank, greedily taking in the sight in front of you.

Scud was in fact not playing on his game system, but rather prancing around the cozy room what he didn’t know was your very expensive lingerie set. An all-white, delicate full ‘angelic’ lingerie set. A satin ruffle top with a waist-high lace garter belt that clipped onto the white mesh fishnets, all paired with lacy underwear that had a large bow on the back, topped with a fair-sized opening that revealed a large portion of his dumb butt.

You had originally bought it to surprise your boyfriend a few months back, but you had both gotten so overcrowded with work that it slipped your mind, collecting a thin layer of dust somewhere you weren’t even sure where you had put it. Scud always got curious about your things when he was rocket-high, digging through things and asking a million and one questions. Now here he was, looking pretty as ever swaying his hips around in the bedroom, mumbling along to the current track playing.

You found yourself flipping the camcorder's small screen open and resting against the door frame as the device started to record, capturing Scud’s fluid movements as he obliviously danced around, brown curls falling sweetly in his face, and skin glowing orange from the multiple sources of warm light in the room.

He really did look like an angel, his broad body looking much more supple and soft, legs long and lean, hips wide and divine. A walking, talking piece of pure eye candy, reserved for your eyes and only your eyes. Guess this camera just found itself a new owner.

Scud spun around on his heels and toes, once, twice, before he stopped, eyes focusing on the small little red dot, flickering up to meet your gaze and feeling his entire exposed body heat up in embarrassment.

“W– Wha– How– How long– Hello– ” Scud sputtered, completely frozen in place as he stared at you.

You, who was now fully entering the bedroom, “Don’t stop now, I barely got any footage” placing your free hand on his small waist and dipping fingers under the fabric of the garter. A smile tugged your lips as you started taking in the entirety of your boyfriend's body up close, his skin soft and hot under the tips of your fingers. “Y– You’re re-recording me?” He knew the answer, but hearing it from you verbally just made a chill run down his spine, and his cock twitch.

“Does that make you nervous love?” Your fingers trailed up his scarred chest, brushing across the lose ruffled top and grazing his nipples, a small whine coming from Scud as he dipped down in order to hide his face, but you wouldn’t let him. “Look at me” You said as you lifted his head up by the chin, forcing his gaze onto yours.

Scud lightly whimpered, desire burning in his gut as you brushed hair out his face, fingers dancing along his skin. He felt exposed under the camera’s lens, so much of his raw and bare skin visible to the naked eye. Your gaze on his body made his cock throb.

“What do I always tell you about playing in my stuff?” You said in a condescending tone, teasing the tips of your fingers down his textured belly.

Scud shivered at your touch as goosebumps prickled his skin, a strained grunt coming from him as his face flushed. “N– not without mommy’s permission”

You slowly walk around him, taking in his full body in the set. “Don’t touch mommy’s things without permission. That’s a rule, right?” You murmur as you stop recording to take a picture of Scud’s ass, definitely filling out the panties better than you could.

“Yes…” He mumbles, and it almost comes out like a squeak. His cock aching with need and his stomach with embarrassment, heart pounding from a combination of nerves and weed.

You brush your lips against the skin of his shoulder, slipping fingers under the waistline of the lace undies. “So can you explain to me why said rule is broken?”

A whimper broke past Scud's lips as your fingers teased and explored his exposed skin, squeezing his hips and tracing scars. "I just– I just found it under the bed and didn't know what it was" Scud stumbled out, heart thumping in his chest as your hands covered more ground on his body, circling around to his back.

"Mhm?" You hummed, tracing your finger up his spine. He let out a moan as chills ran through his core, trembling under your touch as he could feel goosebumps explode across his skin. "Well, do you know what it is now?"

Scud nodded frantically at your words, "Yes! Yes– I know now" quivering as he spoke.

With one hand on his waist, the other still holding the camera, you guided him to the edge of the bed and pushed his upper half down onto the mattress, smiling softly to yourself as you eyed Scud's new position through the lens.

Click! Click!

The electric snap of the camera made Scud feel fuzzy and warm, slightly embarrassed, and very exposed. His skin was flushed a light red, some areas more blushed than the others. From where his cock was confined in the small panties, he was completely pulsing, throbbing with pure need in his gut.

"Do you also know not to break the rules?" You questioned, flipping through the few shots you had taken before moving your attention to the small walk-in closet, crouching down and reaching inside a box.

Scud whined into the soft comforter when you returned behind him, his socked feet barely reaching the rug between them. He could hear the small beep of the camera as you pressed your front to his bottom, a yelp coming from him when your palm made contact with his exposed cheek. "I asked, so answer"

"Y– Yes! Not breaking the rules is a rule" He whimpered, a shudder running through him as his skin tingled.

You smiled at his words as you caressed his side, squeezing his waist and hip slightly. "Good. Very good. So don't you think you deserve a punishment?"

Scud didn't respond, but he nodded his head, hiding his face the best he could behind his hair. You pushed the strands back and cooed at his cherry-red face, tiny whines coming from him as he squirmed under the camera's lens, jerking his hips slightly as he rutted against the edge of the bed.

Your hand made contact with his cheek again, a choked-off groan coming from his throat at your palm. "Words."

"Y– yes ma– ma'am..." He stuttered, trembling slightly with anticipation. It wasn't often that Scud got punished, even with as bratty as he was, so his cock was totally aching just thinking about whatever vile shit it was you were thinking about doing to him.

And you were thinking of doing some quite horrid things.

Teasingly, you ran your hand over the opening in his panties, prodding your finger at his puffy rim. A suppressed shudder traveled through him as his cock twitched, his hole fluttering at your air-light touch. You softly cooed at how needy he was, smiling to yourself as you single-handedly took off your shirt and tossed it on the floor somewhere to be picked up later.

From the box in your closet, you had pulled your strap set, a pair of cuffs, and a long vibrator that you had been wanting to test out for a little while.

Cuffing Scud's hands behind his back with only five fingers was a bit of a challenge, but an easy one. He squirmed a little as you did it, wiggling his fingers as his wrists adjusted to the new sensation of the cuffs.

You shuffled around behind him, cursing softly as you knocked a few things over before tossing a bottle of lube along with the rest of your toys, pressing yourself against Scud as you leaned down near his ear, breath feather-light and hair tickling his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and you could hear his pulse in his neck thumping.

“Just how should I punish you?” You murmur, trailing your lips against his ear lobe and teasing the skin with the very tip of your tongue.

“Maybe I should spank you ‘til it hurts to sit,” You run your free hand down to his ass and give it a slap for emphasis, followed by a squeeze just cause.

“Or maybe I could tie up those cute balls and see just how long it takes for you to pop” You hum, nibbling on Scud’s ear and tugging it with your teeth until you dropped it with an idea lingering in mind.

“Or," You said as you pulled away from him. "I could just leave you here by yourself” You smirked, watching Scud’s face twist in horror.

“No! No– please no” He pleaded as he squirmed on the bed, hips jerking in a desperate search for relief, cock painfully hard and throbbing. “Need a punishment, need mommy to punish me” Scud blabbed, his body trembling as his eyes darted from your face to the camera's lens, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

“But how should I punish you?” You teasingly coo, combing some of a Scud’s bangs out one of his eyes as you smiled softly at him. “I could smoke our whole stash right in your face”

Scud groaned, “Please don’t” squeezing his legs as arousal burned hot in his gut. “I’m really sorry mommy, I– I’ll do anything”

“Oh, I know you will. Just stay still for me ‘kay?” You pushed yourself back up to your full height, pausing your recording to swap out the camera for the bottle of lube, shaking it slightly before uncapping it and squeezing out more than enough of the clear liquid onto Scud's puffy rim, watching the shiver that ran through him as the cold sensation rolled down to his sensitive balls.

You scooped it up with your two fingers and easily slid them inside Scud, a soft moan coming from him as he clenched around you, almost instantly pushing back in search of more. "Such a greedy little hole, you just wanna be fucked so badly don't you?"

Scud whined and squeezed his slick walls around your digits, "Yes! Want mommy to fill me up so bad, need her so bad" rubbing his face against the soft comforter as he could feel it burning hot.

"Don't worry baby boy, we're gonna get you all nice 'nd full right now" You spoke sweetly to him as you picked up the camera with one hand and the vibrator with the other, resuming your recording as the toy harshly rumbled to life after the click of a button. Without wasting a second, you watched as the buzzing wand glided into Scud with zero resistance, pressing it directly against his sweet spot and causing him to loudly sputter, blabble, and cry out nonsense as the sudden vibration traveled through his entire nervous system, cock throbbing with the uncontrollable urge to cum.

Scud sobbed around his loud moans, choking out gasps when you started to quickly thrust the toy in and out, each hard bump to his now very sensitive prostrate only sent him closer to the edge, hands twitching and pulling where they were restrained as his body spasmed, heaving as his heart started to pound in his chest the harder and harder you fucked him, hips jerking down into the mattress as he tried to pathetically chase his rapidly building orgasm, a burning pleasure coursing through the entirety of his body before–

You swiftly pulled the toy out of him right as he was about to topple over the edge, a confused, strangled whimper tearing from his throat as his poor hole needily clenched around nothing, so full and pleased just a split second ago and now suddenly empty and crashing down from the way you abruptly ruined his orgasm.

“Sorry, my hand slipped” You mumbled, obviously not sorry at all as you teased his fluttering hole with the toy, capturing all your torturous movements through the little camera lens.

The cuffs rattled as Scud whined and squirmed at the contact against his sensitive skin, trying his hardest to push back onto the vibrator while also jerking his hips away from it. He was so high, so hot and sweaty as he heaved from where he was on the bed, shaking as you tauntingly dragged the toy up from his slick balls to his drenched rim, only ever applying the slightest amount of pressure.

It made him push his hips back in desperation, letting out a surprised yelp when you smacked him with the toy, tutting your lips as you shook your head, placing the camera down and positioning it to capture Scud's hidden face, forcing his head up by roughly yanking a fistful of hair.

He whined as a shiver ran down his spine, trembling as his eyes nervously darted away from the lens, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being recorded in such an exposed state. His cock was still painfully aching, whole body throbbing uncontrollably from your early treatment.

Scud made tiny little whimpers when you started to tease his hole again with the toy, his hips twitching as he tried not to jerk them back, desperate and craving to be filled up again. His gut ached with arousal, cock leaking painfully where it was confined in the small panties.

"P– Please fuck me, please mommy" He begged as you dipped your head down and started nibbling at his bare shoulder, teasing the skin of his hip with your fingers.

You blew on his ear as you ran the length of the vibrator up his slick crack, a keen noise pulling out his throat as his hole fluttered in anticipation. "Is this what you want pretty boy? To be stuffed like a dumb slut?"

Scud whined at your words, nodding his head and hiding his face shyly behind his hair, jumping slightly when you tightly gripped his jaw, lifting his head once more and dropping it to pick up your camera.

"You're so cute when you're nervous" You said to him as you smooshed your cheek against his, pointing the lens at the both of you and snapping a few pictures, Scud's face red and embarrassed as the flash flickered, electric shutter ringing in his ears.

Scud huffed slightly as his socked toes brushed the rug beneath him, kicking his feet impatiently as need and heat burned through his veins. He whined softly when you pulled away from him entirely, leaving the camcorder pointed at him to capture his facial expressions when you suddenly shoved the entirety of the vibrator back into him, a loud and shaky moan tearing from Scud's throat as the toy easily slid into him, almost yelling when it buzzed to life against his sensitive walls.

His hands curled into one another where his arms were stretched behind his back, yet immediately scrambled to wrap around your wrist when you trailed fingers up his spine, his fingers twitching and trembling as they latched onto you, incoherent mumbles leaving Scud's lips.

As you started to properly fuck him with the toy, quickly thrusting it in and out as he tensed up at the sensation, shuddering as his jaw went slack and he started to desperately yet sloppy push back against your movements, toes curling into the carpet as you shoved the vibrator right into his sweet spot, stars dancing in his eyes and coursing through his body.

"I bet that feels so good huh pretty boy? Gonna cum aren't you?" You taunted as you fucked him quicker with the silicone toy, watching the way he had started to twitch and squirm, his whimpers and cries starting to increase in volume. Scud tried to respond to your questions, but his words only came out as a garbled mess.

It earned a small laugh from you, pressing yourself up against him and dipping your head down to attack his neck, running your tongue over his pulse, and feeling his heart race under the muscle. "Didn't quite catch that" You murmured into his ear, slowing down your movements as you searched for Scud's sweet spot, a broken sob tearing from his lips when you found it. "Yes," He gasped, trembling underneath you as he heaved for air, clumsily stuttering out his words. "Wanna cum so bad, want mommy to make me cum"

Scud tugged and pulled at his restraints as he choked back cries, clumsily pushing back against your movements desperately as he chased after his rapidly building orgasm, babbling brainlessly. He could feel the buzzing sensation in his toes, all the way up to his teeth, it made his head foggy and his jaw go slack, not sure if the high he was greedily riding was from the weed or sheer pleasure, but it had him on cloud nine either way.

Each thrust brought him closer and closer, so close he could practically taste it. A needy, broken whimper came from his chest as his body twitched against you, small pleas starting to fall from his lips as his untouched cock throbbed from his burning climax, lungs running out of air as his body started to tense up, standing right on the edge and about to fall down face first when you yanked the toy right out of him again, Scud whining and basically sobbing in protest as his hole uncontrollably clenched down around nothing, heavy groans leaving him as his body struggled to recover from the way you completely denied him again.

"Oh Please, please mommy, please" Scud sobbed as his body felt so empty and used, desperately craving the relief that he needed so badly.

You shut the toy off and tossed it down on the bed, taking hold of the camcorder and stopping your recording, snapping a few pictures of how utterly destroyed Scud was, face soaked with his tears and drool as he weakly rutted his hips in search of any type of pleasure. He whimpered softly at the flash of light, feeling exposed and nude under the lens.

"It's okay Scud, you've been doing so well for me. Momma's gonna make you feel so good" You murmured comfortingly into his ears as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, pushing your body up off his and leaving the camera on the bed. Scud still whined out in protest as your body heat left his, leaving him cold and lonely. His heart started to soar and quickly pick up speed when he heard the familiar sound of your strap buckling together, small mutters and curses coming from you as there was a slight struggle.

It wasn't long before you reappeared behind Scud, this time pressing your cock against him. Anticipation sparked to life in his tummy as you dragged the silicone through his slick, unable to help himself from pushing back against you with tiny little sounds. He needed it so bad that his body was practically begging for release, involuntarily twitching.

Scud was so close to an absolute breakdown, whimpering and mumbling incoherently as you finally started to push in at a tauntingly slow pace, the lube helping to make it an easy glide and blissful stretch. His head dropped down onto the mattress as sparks flew up his spine, so understimulated that even the slightest of touch would probably send him tipping over the edge.

You readjusted your camcorder with one hand and the tightly tangled the other in his hair, yanking his head back up to be captured in the lens, giggling at the groan that left Scud’s lips. “Come on pretty boy, keep your head up for momma”

“Need– Need it–“ Scud started to babble, head totally clouded and overworked as he desperately jerked his hips, rocking them back and forth to get any type of stimulation at all, trembling like a leaf on a branch when he felt the tip of your strap finally, finally jab right into his tender and used sweet spot, knees buckling between him as he involuntarily squeezed your wrist tightly, nails digging into the flesh as the orgasm his body had been begging for completely took over, loud and broken sobs leaving Scud’s lips as his untouched cock throbbed and pulsated, cumming right in the lace panties of the lingerie set.

The fact that you captured that on camera almost made your mouth water, and you cooed at Scud when he went ragdoll in your hold, stroking his side to give him some comfort as he slowly came back down to earth. “Oh, you poor little thing. Did I tease too much?”

Scud could barely even muster out words, breathing into the mattress as his body twitched, small grunts and whimpers coming from him your hand in his hair kept his head upright and his face vulnerable, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks.

“Or, did I not tease you enough?” You murmured the question softly in his ear, moving to grab a fist full of hair from the front and gripping his cuffed wrists, yanking both backward as you took a step forward to shove the entirety of your cock into Scud, who could almost taste the pleasure coursing through him. A choked sob tore itself from his throat, eyes darting frantically between the wall and camera lens as it felt like pure heaven burned it’s way up his spine, hands twitching and curling in on themselves under your grip.

It was arguably the best he’s ever felt in days, weeks even. When you started to relentlessly and mercilessly slam into him, each thrust going right to his core and sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head, lips glossy and slick with spit as he drooled from the mouthwatering pleasure.

“You’re just so, so cute Scud. I can’t wait to watch our little movie over and over and over again” You said as you tilted his head to the side by his hair, biting down harshly on the flesh of his already bruised and marked neck, a shriek pulling its way out his chest as all five of his senses were at a complete overload, skin flushing a deep red when he felt your teeth blissfully break skin. It was all so overwhelming, the wet glide of your cock slipping in and out against his tender velvety walls was simply too much for his mind to be able to comprehend, hips jerking as his second orgasm built up rapidly, like a can of soda that had been shaken up and was just waiting for someone to pop the tap.

He heard the sound of the cuffs clicking off before he felt the fuzzy material sliding off his wrists, your hands finding his and intertwining your fingers together, pinning his hands down on the mattress to fuck him with all the womanly strength left in you, sending the silicone as deep and hard into your angelic boyfriend as your body would possibly allow for. Scud’s head involuntarily dropped right down onto the blankets, whimpers and broken moans tumbling past his lips as he tightly squeezed your fingers, so close to the edge that this time he really could taste it.

“Please momma, please, please– fuuck, please” Scud helplessly babbled, needily pushing back to meet your thrusts as he was so fucking close, so close that he’d almost do anything just to cum, not that there was much to do considering he was already crashing down the hill, just needing a few more rough thrusts of your hips before his tap was finally popped, an explosion of fizzy stickiness exploding right in his gut, his second orgasm spilling right into the already soiled underwear, seeping through and dripping down onto the floor.

Scud went totally limp where he laid face down on the bed, breathing heavily as he twitched and tried to come down from such an earth shattering high, whining softly when you pulled out.

Tiny kisses were planted all over his face, neck, and shoulders, you gently brushing his hair out his face and unsticking it from his sweaty forehead. “You okay?”

Scud nodded, with his eyes half-lidded and a content smile tugging at his lips. “Mhmm”

“Did you learn your lesson?” You asked, pulling the bra strap and letting it snap against Scud’s flesh, a small grunt leaving him as his skin burned. “Yes ma’am…” He grumbled out, feet dangling off the bed.

You smiled softly, kissing him right below his eye. “Good baby. Now let’s get you all squeaky clean and cozy for bed, then we can find a way to put our special show on the TV for only our eyes to see” You said with a hint of mischief in your tone, reaching for the camcorder and stopping your recording once and for all.

Whoa. Did Norman fucking reedus just fucking finish something. Did Normam fucking reedus just post something. Whoa. How crazy even is that.

ANYWAYS 😝 yes guys I still love Scud he's still my angel boy and be always will be I love the part of the fic where my peenar goes inside his body thats the best part hands down I love to fuck men with my lady peenar

One fic at a time guys 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I have a few others that eeerm should get posted soon… dont get your hopes up (because mine are already up and that's a problem)

IF YOU SEE TYPOS NO UOU DONNNT 😭 MY GRAMMARLY IS ON MY COMPUTER AND THE APP IS GARBAGE ON MY PHONE PLEASE STOP THIS MADNESS

I was gonna end this with the cam corder MaGiCaLlYy disappearing 👁️ but that's for another fic 🙂‍↕️ (that ill end up never writing)

[angsty-teacup]

Have you considered drawing Jevil in a Spamton style outfit?

* NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A BIG SHOT, BIG SHOT !!!

[thatsassyhufflepuff]

Hey! Hope you're doing good. May I request a draco X fem!ravenclaw!reader where Draco asks her to be his girlfriend but she refuses because her parents wouldn't allow her to date anyone. But they sneak around and do it anyway. And when her parents find out, they are furious and start scolding her brutally, but Draco comes in and argues about how it's not that wrong to date anyone. And then he comforts her because she was crying, and it's full of fluff. Oh and no voldy AU please. Thanks💕

The Serpent & The Eagle

A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for this request; I'm doing just fine, thank you! I hope you like this! <3 I have one more request to write and then I'll open my inbox back up, so stay tuned and have your requests ready! :) Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been working a ton! Once this is up I’ll probably post ch. 31 of Stronger Than Blood (You can start that here!) & write my final request in my inbox after that!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

House: Ravenclaw

Year: 5th

Warnings: angst and lots of fluff! <3

Though she knew Draco mostly had good intentions, Y/N Y/L/N, a Ravenclaw in her 5th year, was a bit nervous when he asked her to meet him at the Astronomy Tower that night.

"Sure," she answered slowly. "But what's the occasion?"

Draco smirked. "Who says there needs to be an occasion? Don't overwork that big brain of yours, Y/N. Just be there."

That was all he said before he winked at her and strode away confidently. Y/N barely refrained from banging her head against the nearest wall. Telling a Ravenclaw not to overwork their brain was like telling the bloody Pope not to be Catholic!

"Stupid, sneaky Slytherin," Y/N mumbled to herself, which earned her a few odd glances from students who passed her in the corridor, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Just what was Draco Malfoy up to?

***

"Ready or not, here I come!" Y/N shouted as she ascended the winding staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. When she reached the top, Draco was, as usual, smirking at her.

"No need to announce your presence, Y/N. You sounded like a pack of wild Hippogriffs stomping up the stairs."

"I was not stomping!" The Ravenclaw pouted, tossing her Y/H/C hair over her shoulder, raising her chin defiantly.

"Sure you weren't," the blonde drawled with a snicker. "You also weren't muttering something about a sneaky, slimy, irritating git on your way up." He winked. "Surely you weren't speaking of me, though."

Y/N blushed deeply, not bothering to deny it.

"Relax, would you?" he murmured into her ear as he slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her forward.

"Relax, he says," she grumbled. "You know how much I hate surprises, Draco!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm fairly certain you'll like this one, Y/N."

She arched an eyebrow at that but kept silent as the Slytherin propelled her forward further into the Tower. Y/N let out a little gasp when she saw what was before her.

He'd set up an entire bloody candlelight dinner for them.

"Draco..." Y/N breathed. "When on Earth did you have the time to set this up?"

He smirked. "I bribed the house elves."

"Of course you did." She snorted, smiling her thanks as Draco pulled out her seat for her and pushed it in before taking a seat himself.

The two enjoyed dinner in a comfortable silence. The Ravenclaw could tell Draco was nervous about something, but she knew better than to pressure him. He'd talk eventually. And, of course, she was right.

"Y/N..." His gray eyes danced in the candlelight as he reached across the table, taking her hand between both of his. "You were right."

"I usually am," she said cheekily. "But what about this time?"

Draco was so nervous that he didn't even roll his eyes at her snark. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard, running a thumb across her knuckles tenderly.

"I'm absolutely mad about you, Y/N," he admitted. "I'm sure you can tell. You're bloody brilliant. But I was wondering if...if you'd be my girlfriend?"

Much to Draco's surprise, the Ravenclaw witch's eyes filled with tears.

"I can't," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Draco's eyebrows lowered.

"Why not? Do you..." he gulped. "Do you not feel the same way? I thought--"

"Oh, Draco, no!" she cried, grabbing his hand again to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I feel the exact same way. It's only..." Y/N sighed. "My parents are rather strict, and they've forbidden me to date while I attend Hogwarts. I'm to focus on my studies."

"That's bollocks," Draco scoffed, squeezing her hand back. At her glare, he sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. "Sorry. But who says they need to find out?"

Y/N frowned. "I don't like lying to them."

"It's not lying." Draco assured her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Besides, your parents aren't here, and summer holiday is months away. We'll be careful." His eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Y/N?"

She scowled at him, her cheeks flushing pink. "Ugh, fine. I can't say no to that face." With an impish grin, Y/N leaned over the table, minding the flame of the candle and kissing Draco softly.

This is absolutely insane. She thought, but soon all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips on hers.

***

In all honesty, Y/N was surprised it took her parents as long as it did to find out about her relationship with Draco. That knowledge didn't stop her heart from sinking as an owl dropped a letter into her lap one morning at breakfast about three months later.

"Who's that from?" A familiar voice asked. Y/N looked up and smiled tightly as her boyfriend plopped into a seat next to her, heedless of the stares he got as a Slytherin sitting down at the Ravenclaw table. By then, most of Hogwarts was used to their relationship, but the stares never quite ceased.

"My parents," She replied with a grimace as she tore open the letter, reading aloud:

Y/N,

We need to have a chat. After you receive this owl, you’re to report to Dumbledore’s office to access his fireplace to Floo home.

“They didn’t even sign their names?” Draco asked, reading over her shoulder. Y/N scowled, tossing aside the piece of parchment.

“They’ve never been the touchy-feely type of parents, Dray.” She said, getting to her feet. Draco placed a hand on her arm.

“You’re going now?”

She nodded. “Best just to get it over with.”

Her boyfriend stood. “I’ll go with you.”

The Ravenclaw knew that there was no talking him out of it, so she nodded but gave him a stern look. “Fine, but stay out of the room. I can handle this.”

***

Y/N wasn’t sure that she could handle this at all, but there was no way she was telling Draco that. His protectiveness would only make things worse.

He squeezed her hand as they emerged into the Y/L/N home sometime later, stepping out of the fireplace. Y/N exhaled with relief when they weren’t greeted by her parents, turning to look up at Draco.

“The library is right next to the drawing room. Please stay there until I come back for you."

The Slytherin responded by leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before walking towards the library. Y/N squared her shoulders before making her way into the drawing room where, as expected, her parents were there waiting for her, facing away from her, whispering to each other.

"You wanted to have a chat, so here I am." Y/N said by way of greeting. If she hadn't been so nervous, the way her parents turned around in sync would've made her laugh.

"Y/N." Her mother greeted her with a stiff nod. Her father's gaze swept her features, the disapproval coming off of him in waves.

"Lip gloss?" he snorted.

"Freshly smudged," her mother added, curling her lip. "Y/N, how many times do we have to tell you that-"

"My education comes first, I know," The Ravenclaw sighed. "But Mum, Dad, if you just met him, I think you'd really like him."

Both of her parents scoffed at that. "Y/N," her father pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've always been such a bright girl. Why are you letting the first young wizard to ever give you attention to ruin that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Angry tears stung Y/N's eyes.

"You heard your father!" Her mother cried. "Your first boyfriend and our little girl is completely unrecognizable. The smudged lip gloss, the way your robes are askew. Honestly, Y/N, are you so keen on making our family the laughingstock of the wizarding world?"

Nausea swept through Y/N at what her own mother was implying, that she was some sort of whore with loose morals! A few tears slipped down her cheeks, but before she could bring herself to speak, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Y/N tensed.

"Draco," she hissed, looking up at him. "What did I tell you?"

"All right in here?" He asked instead of answering her, looking first at the Ravenclaw witch then at her parents.

"And who might you be?" her father narrowed his eyes at Draco, taking in the hand the Slytherin had on his daughter's shoulder.

"Draco Malfoy, sir. Y/N's boyfriend." Y/N was frozen in shock as Draco slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, gently thumbing away her tears. "And you're wrong. Both of you are."

"Excuse me?" Her mother gasped, outraged.

"You heard me," Draco drawled. "Y/N is one of the brightest, sweetest, most hard-working witches I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You lot should be ashamed of yourselves. She didn't agree to date me at first, do you know why?" He glared at her parents. "Because despite the way you treat her, she didn't want to keep this from you. She knew you'd act like this. But no matter. As her boyfriend, I will in no way allow her to fall behind in her studies. In fact," He squeezed Y/N's shoulders. "We often help each other with our assignments. If you're done insulting my girlfriend, we'll be going now."

"Now see here-" Her father spluttered, but Draco cut him off.

"No, I don't think I will. Let's go, darling."

With that, he steered his shell-shocked girlfriend out of the drawing room and into the library, where she immediately bursted into tears. Draco drew her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her frame and rubbing her back gently.

"You're okay, my love." he whispered into her hair. "I've got you. You're okay."

"Did you hear what my mum said?" Y/N choked out. Draco kissed her temple and nodded.

"It's not true, you know." He held his girlfriend away from him in a loose embrace. "You've got one of the strongest moral compasses of anyone I've ever met, love. Though I have to admit," he gave her a teasing grin, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Dating a prick like me makes me wonder sometimes."

Y/N choked out a laugh, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Draco cupped her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her tears away. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists, keeping his hands on her face.

"I love you," she said in a wobbly voice, but her smile was radiant, and Draco's heart soared.

"And I you, my brilliant, gorgeous girlfriend." He kissed her nose, then all over her face until she was laughing. "Now let's go home, hmm?"

And so they did. Not only was their home at Hogwarts, their home was in each other. An Eagle and a Serpent who lived in harmony sounded like a myth, but it was their beautiful reality. One they intended to cherish for as long as the fates would allow.

~~~

End notes: I hope this is good, I’m not a Ravenclaw so I hope I got it right! 🙉

taglist: @rosiehufflepuff @riddleswh0r3crux @desiredmalfoy @typewriting101 @is-it-really-a-secret

(If you'd like to be added to my Draco taglist PM me! <3)

[lepusrufus]

Do you have a picture of how your drawing improved over time?

Alrighty, first off, apologies for having had this in my inbox for so long. In my defense, my old art is usually buried into the deepest pits of hell as to not make me die of cringe, BUT I decided to clean yesterday and ended up going down the memory lane for about three hours trying to gather everything into a box for safekeeping and this ask popped into my mind. So what better time to answer it.

Now, I'm gonna preface this by saying two things. One, I don't have anything from before 2012-ish as a lot of my childhood art stayed in my hometown when I moved. Two, while a lot of this is... well not good per se, it's definitely not as bad as it got since I'm not particularly keen on putting my very bad art on blast. I'm not embarrassed by it, quite the opposite, since seeing the progress and remembering just how proud younger me used to be of these makes me actually fond of them. But still.

Also no cringy fanart for y'all . Which in hindsight may not be much better as you get cringy ocs. Enjoy (???)

Alright starting off with 2012/13- ish? God this is so bad. Definitely couldn't draw a person to save my life but like.... kudos to me for trying to learn fur??? Emphasis on trying

Around 2014 tho Frank I'm not even sure. Ugh why did young me not sign anything between 13 and 16 this gave me headaches.

Pretty sure this was 2015. Woo for teen me giving human faces another go. Still a long way to go but hey gotta start somewhere.

2016! Back to signing my shit thank you so much younger me. This oc isn't even that bad kinda wanna redraw it ngl but the fur is atrocious

2017. Wtf was wrong with how I drew eyes. Ok tbf I still place them wonky as fuck sometimes oh well

2018 with a badass shark mermaid. Can't draw hands for shit tho lol

2019. Looks like I got some lineart skills finally.

2020. Oh! Faces! Finally getting the hang of that are we!

And, as a final note, I also gathered all the binders, file holders, sketchbooks and everything in between, in a pile because frankly even I was baffled at the sheer amount of art I did since around 2013 up to today. And this doesn't even include the things I drew as a child, school projects or things that I've missed (because I'm certain I missed some) or even the ungodly amount of digital art.

That's to say, art like any other craft, is something that requires time and effort and blood and sweat and frankly a couple loose screws, because all of us who dedicate so much time to this are some kinda flavor of masochistic.

Anyway, I would've loved to show more but unfortunately there's a 10 image limit, though if anyone else is curious in the future I may add to my short gallery of past cringe

[pinkjeanist]

“cooking by the book!” || katsuki bakugou

     ⇥ When Bakugou teaches 1-A how to bake a cake for an upcoming festival, you can’t help but notice how he treats you a little nicer than the others. But that’s just your crush on him talking...right? [1.6k words]

a/n: this is named after that remix of “cooking by the book” from lazy town bc no other song captures the pure essence of bakugou and reader’s relationship. this was also largely inspired by the difference in how gordon ramsay treats kid chefs vs. adult ones.[navigation]

You should have known that taking cooking lessons from Bakugou wasn’t going to be easy. However, with the way he taught you differently from everyone else, you had to admit: it could have been a lot harder.

“You’re gonna bake a cake, today.” You looked down at the empty mixing bowl before you, biting the inside of your cheek. You’d heard that baking was somewhat difficult to begin with, including (but not limited to) cake, and for Bakugou to choose that as your first proper baking session ever made you a bit intimidated (though whether you were intimidated by him or the cake was unclear).

Another school festival was coming up, and your class was expected to bake for the guests, which would have been okay if both halves of your class were competent enough to use an oven. So here you were, standing behind one of the many kitchen counters, trying not to stare too much ahead at Bakugou. You caught yourself doing that a lot on the daily, and even if you sometimes caught him doing the same, it was rude on your part. So, long before you’d even stepped foot in the kitchen, you decided that you would put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand (which was already proving difficult).

After preheating the ovens, you all went back to your stations. You reached for the apron on the counter and slipped it over your head. Next to you, Kirishima asked his friend, “Are we supposed to do that?”

“Are you kidding me? Is that a question?” You paused in tying the apron behind your back as Bakugou raised his voice. “Yes, you dumbass! Who the hell doesn’t bake without an apron?!” 

You nodded even as his shouting wasn’t directed towards you, and again attempted to tie the apron behind your back until you realized it just wouldn’t stay tied. You almost asked Kirishima or Mina to help you before Bakugou came over to grab the strings and do it himself. You went still, and didn’t quite hear him the first time when he mumbled, “Is that too tight?” 

You swallowed. “It’s fine, thank you…” 

He moved back in front of the counters again and tied his own apron. “You each have a recipe in front of you. Don’t use it unless you need it. If you listen to me, you won’t need it at all.” 

You nodded and put your hands behind your back, not sure what else to do with them until he instructed the ten or so of you to find the flour. The others scrambled to the part of the kitchen you knew had flour somewhere around it, but you distinctly remembered there being another, smaller bag of it in a different pantry, so you went there instead. You retrieved it and presented it to Bakugou.

“Is this flour?”

He blinked. “No. That’s sugar.”

“Oh…”

“You’ll need it. Take it back to your station.”

“Oh, okay!” You smiled. Turning on your heel, you did as he instructed, and waited patiently until you were told to find the sugar (which you already had), baking soda, baking powder, cocoa, salt, and espresso powder. You tried to keep the list of the items in your mind as you turned to search for them, but found yourself at a loss. 

It was your fault for only partially-listening when Bakugou had given the instructions, but were you really to blame? He was wearing a sleeveless shirt under an apron that hugged him tight enough to show off his tiny waist. How were you supposed to have paid attention with that in front of you? 

But you wouldn’t say any of that to him- never in a million lifetimes- so you were as quiet and unassuming as possible as you took the recipe from the countertop and went over it. You knew where the flour was, and you had the sugar, but looking around the kitchen, you couldn’t spot anyone with espresso powder, which you didn’t even know was a thing that was supposed to go in cakes, but that wasn’t the point. You stood, biting your lip, until Bakugou came over again.

“What are you confused about?” His voice was a lot softer than you expected it to be, seeing as how he’d done nothing but yell at everyone else (you couldn’t blame him. Cooking was just that big of a passion for some people), but you couldn’t complain. You looked down at the recipe to avoid his eye.

“I’m not confused, I just- I don’t know who has the espresso powder.” 

Bakugou put a hand on your arm, and you tried not to melt under it as he shouted over your shoulder: “Who has the espresso powder?!”

“Is this it?” Kaminari lifted a large jar of brown powder over a sea of other bakers-in-training, which drew another rant from Bakugou about kitchen safety and do you want someone to get a concussion when you drop that?!, but you were still too focused on the weight of his hand. When he got done yelling, he squeezed your arm gently before looking down at you, and you swore you felt your heart stop before beating out of control. 

“Go and get a teaspoon of espresso powder. I’ll announce everything else, but if you forget the measurements, just look at the damn recipe.” 

You nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you, Bakugou.” 

Walking away, he muttered a quiet “you’re welcome,” and you could only smile to yourself as you looked back down at the recipe. 

Bakugou called out the measurements, and eventually, you had everything in the mixing bowl, and whisked through the powders until combined as instructed. You were then told to add milk (Bakugou measured that out for you without you needing to ask) and add two eggs (he did that for you, too) with vegetable oil and vanilla. Once you had everything in, you began to stir it, but apparently, whatever you were doing was wrong, because he moved behind you to take your hands in his on the side of the bowl and on the paddle. 

“You have to be more rough with it,” He muttered, moving your hands at a faster pace. “Or you’re gonna be standing here for three hours until it finally mixes.” 

You couldn’t even find the words, anymore. The voice that constantly nagged you in the voice told you that you were doing everything wrong, and that you were helpless for needing his assistance with each and every step, but you really couldn’t complain. Another voice told you that you were actually doing well and that he was helping you because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated, but you pushed that thought back. You knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. (Could it, though? (No. No it couldn’t.))

After he decided it was mixed to his satisfaction, he stepped away and went to observe Kirishima’s bowl.

“Is it supposed to be this kinda poop brown?”

“Never fucking say that again about food. And what the fuck is this? Stir it!” Bakugou grabbed the bowl and stirred it with vigor while Kirishima stood by and laughed. He didn’t hold Kirishima like he’d held you. And as he went around to stir the bowls of others, he didn’t even lay his hands on those faring worse than you. You furrowed your brow, but elected to continue stirring to keep yourself busy. 

You were then told to put the batter in the two prepared pans in front of you, with the word “evenly” stressed after the fact. Bakugou again walked over to you as you got done. “Is this okay?” 

He huffed. “This one has more batter, but it’ll do. Go put them in the oven.” 

You nodded and put the pans in the oven, nearly dropping and spilling one on the way before catching it- but other than that, they went in smoothly. Over the next half hour, you took Bakugou’s advice and used a toothpick to check the center of the cakes, and sat on the flour-covered counters in the meantime while they baked. Bakugou came to sit by you while you twiddled your thumbs.

“You did a good job today.” 

You looked at him, then immediately back to the oven with wide eyes. “Oh. I-I feel like I messed everything up, to be honest…” 

“You did fine. You didn’t mess anything up.” He didn’t look at you, so you both kept staring at the oven, afraid of eye contact.

You hesitated before saying, “Thank you for helping me.” After a moment, you added, “You’re a really good teacher.” 

“I know.” His head whipped over to where Kaminari was about to eat a spoonful of cinnamon, and chucked a wooden spoon at his back. “Not in my kitchen, asshat!” 

You actually giggled at that, which was even more embarrassing with him looking at you afterwards. You quieted yourself soon after and shoved your hands into your lap. 

“Why do you do that?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“You always stop laughing. You laugh enough with your friends but never with me. Stop doing that.”

“Who says you’re not my friend?” You asked before you could stop your tongue, then meeting his eye. You desperately wanted to look away, but the need for a connection with him was too strong. “You are. My friend, I mean. Uhm.”

“So laugh if I do something funny. It pisses me off when you don’t.” He hung his head to mess with his hands, and you grinned shyly to yourself as you turned away.

“Okay.”

When the cakes were pulled from the oven, Bakugou was by your side the most, helping stack the layers and frosting it with chocolate buttercream. In which, when your hand brushed against his as you frosted the cake, you didn’t shy away from him. You each stole little glances, meeting one another’s eye every now and again (which was starting to become less uncomfortable each time). 

You thought your cake was a little dry. He said it was the “best fucking thing” he’d ever eaten.

-

taglist: @keigos-dove​ @knifeewifee​ @wesparklebitch​ @bvnnyclouds​ @hanniejji​ @katsukis-sad-angel​

other tag/s: @pixxiesdust​

- dm/inbox to be added or removed from a taglist. 

[thewritewolf]

Night to Remember

Summary: Adrien wakes up to three videos from his soon-to-be wife, one for each day she'd been gone for her bachelorette party.

Hello and welcome! It’s been a hot second since I updated this series last, but I got here eventually! This time we’ve got a one shot on our hands and like usual, this story stands on its own pretty well. I’ll link to the other stories in case this one catches your attention

Enjoy!

Part 1: Five Times (and the Lucky One)

Part 2: Just Between Us

Part 3: Eating Habits

Part 4: Adrien Agreste and the Long Delayed Proposal

Read on Ao3

The soft rays of morning landed gently on Adrien’s face, the warm glow slowly rousing him from sleep. He rolled over, putting an arm over the opposite side of the bed to pull Marinette closer to him. 

When his hand simply hit empty blankets and pillow, his face scrunched up in irritation. He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted, eyes yet to adjust to the light of dawn, at the space beside him. Just as he feared, it was empty.

Sluggishly, the gears in his head began to turn. Why wasn’t she here? Did she go to make breakfast? No, she’d never get up early by herself. 

Was there an akuma? A cold spear of panic went through his heart before he remembered that Hawkmoth - his father - was in prison. It had been years since they’d had an akuma attack, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still sometimes wake up in a cold sweat. 

Now that he was wide awake, Adrien started to remember. He and Marinette were getting married. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the big day finally came, which meant that he’d finally talked her into having her bachelorette party. Her plans were a quiet weekend out in Bordeaux. Just her, a few friends, and some wine in a rural village. He rolled out of bed and started to get dressed.

That had been a theme in most of the wedding planning - Adrien wanting to give her the world, and Marinette going instead for simple elegance. Well, she’d talked him down in most other parts of this wedding, but if there was one part before the honeymoon he intended to spoil her, then the bachelorette party was it. 

Adrien grinned as he remembered slipping Alya his credit card with only one instruction - go all out. How she would pull it off would be a mystery, but if her grin was anything to go by, then Adrien knew he had nothing to worry about.

As he brushed his teeth, he pulled out his phone to check his email. There at the very top of the inbox were three messages, two from his bride to be and one from Alya. Marinette’s were dated Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon, with Alya’s from early this morning. He’d already seen the first two, but decided to watch them again to get the whole experience.

After finishing up in the bathroom, he started the first video.

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

The video started, although Adrien only knew this because Marinette’s voice came through clear. The screen itself was completely black. 

“Hey, sweetie! We just dropped our luggage off at the hotel and we’re heading to the winery right now!”

“Um, Marinette?” It took Adrien a moment to place Alix’s voice. He’d only seen her a couple times in the past year. “Your thumb is on the camera.”

“Wha- Oh!” The screen lit up, showing Marinette’s radiant smile and slightly flushed cheeks. Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail, with a pair of big, fashionable sunglasses resting just above her face. “Sorry about that, Adrien!” 

Some giggling drew both his and Marinette’s attention to the others in the car. The camera shakily panned over to them. 

“Say hi, girls!”

Alix, caught with one arm wrapped around the head rest, finger gunned at him. “Hi girls.”

“Hello Adrien!” Rose frantically waved and beamed at the camera. “I can’t wait to see you two walk down the aisle! Its going to be so romantic!” She wiggled in place, too full of excitement to stay still.

Finally the camera landed on Alya, who was driving.

“Hey, centerfold. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of M.” She glanced at the camera and winked. “We’ll have to talk to you later since we’re about there.”

The scene shook again as Marinette fumbled the camera. She managed to catch it and soon enough the camera was back on her face again.

“It’s been less than a day, but I’m missing you already!” The screen was engulfed by her lips when she gave it a quick kiss. “Bye!”

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

Adrien smiled to himself and kissed the now black screen. 

Friday night must have gone as Marinette had planned then, but from the looks of it, Alya definitely hadn’t forgotten his request. She was more devious than the rest of them, if only because she was much more patient. First she would lull Marinette into a false sense of security… and only then would she spring the trap. 

Fully dressed and ready to meet the day, Adrien stretched out on the couch and opened the second video. This one was dated Sunday afternoon, the second day of their party. He sipped his coffee and pressed play. 

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

“Heyyy, sweetheart,” Marinette began, the words just barely slurred. A faint, constant blush tinted her cheek a pleasant rosy color. It was a little hard to hear her over the song playing on the radio and, more importantly, Alix and Rose loudly singing off key to it behind Marinette. 

Marinette either didn’t notice or was ignoring them, smiling into the camera all the while. “We just left the… winery. They had some great stuff there!” The view turned dark when she held something up a little too close to the camera. “I got a couple bottles to take home too!”

Someone said something, Adrien couldn’t hear what, and Marinette’s head whipped over to the side as she listened carefully. She nodded to herself before turning her attention back to the camera. 

“Alya says hi! Oh, and we’re going a little off the schedule here… We heard about a town nearby. They’ve got a few bars and one has a live band! This is basically just a girls’ night out, so it won’t be too wild… Right?”

The last question was directed more toward the other occupants of the car than Adrien himself. As far as he could tell, she didn’t get an answer. 

Marinette flashed him a sheepish smile and a slight shrug. “Well, anyway. I’ll send you another video when we get back to the hotel. Bye!”

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

Which just left the final video. The only one that he hadn’t watched through already. He’d been a little worried when Marinette hadn’t sent her video when she said she would, but he had bitten back that fear as best he could. After all, she always struggled with deadlines and who knew what they ended up doing that night.

Even so it was weird that Alya was the one to end it. What had kept Marinette from sending the video?

Only one way to find out - Adrien opened the message and played the recording.

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

A wall of noise slammed into Adrien, which stunned him for a second before he could figure out what was going on. There was the babble of a drunk crowd that formed the undercurrent for the rock band playing on stage. 

Adrien only had a second to wonder who was recording when he heard Alya’s voice close to the microphone.

“Watch this, blondie.”

It was at that moment that he found her - even between the low light and the jostle of the crowd, he could spot her anywhere. Then again, it wouldn’t be too hard to spot anyone if they were climbing up onto the stage with the band. Adrien watching with shock as she stepped up to the empty mic stand, swayed ever so slightly, and leaned in close. 

“I’m getting MARRIED!”

The crowd went wild, applause and shouting drowning out the music for a moment. 

“To the best man, the greatest partner in the whole world!”

Another round of cheers, combined with some ‘aw’s thrown in. 

One of the band members stepped up and gently took the mic from her. Thankfully, he seemed more amused than angry - Adrien could just barely make out an amused smirk from his perspective. 

“Then this one’s for you-”

“Marinette!” Alya shouted.

“-Marinette, and to your lucky man. Hit it, boys!”

Adrien wasn’t sure what the difference was between this song and the last, especially since he couldn’t hear it too well thanks to Alya being in the middle of a wild crowd, but Marinette definitely seemed to like it since she started dancing on the stage. 

The scene went black for a second before turning back on to Alya’s grinning face. She gave him a thumbs up. 

“Mission accomplished, centerfold!” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Better be careful when M gets home, though!”

She winked and the video ended. 

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

In the silence, the sound of the door opening immediately caught his attention. Before he could get up off the couch, Marinette stepped into the room. She glared daggers at him, but he relaxed when he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, as if she was fighting down a smile. 

“So,” he said. “How was your quiet weekend out?”

Marinette sat down on him hard enough to knock some of the wind out of him. She crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you know that Alya was the one who hired that band, or were you just bankrolling it?”

“Whaaat? I would never-” He put his hand on his chest in mock outrage. “I mean, what about the budget?!”

“You’re an awful liar, chaton. Three margaritas in and she spilled the beans. I may have been drunk too, but I don’t forget easily.” She tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Hm... where will I have to pull the money from to balance it out… Maybe the cake?”

“Hey now, our guests have to have cake!”

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “The flowers then.”

“You booked Francois a month ago, my love. No way you’re going to be getting the deposit back on that one.”

“Good point.” Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! I haven’t gone lingerie shopping for the honeymoon yet!”

“...Wait, let’s not be hasty.”

“Well, it can’t be helped.” She sighed melodramatically and pulled out her phone. “I was going to go to this really upscale shop and spend quite a bit but since we blew so much of the budget, I'll just call Alya and cancel but- hey!"

Adrien had snatched her phone and turtled up as best he could. As they wrestled for it, they devolved into a mess of giggles. Somehow, they ended up on the floor, Adrien propped up on his elbows above her.

Marinette crossed her arms, her hair a halo behind her head. She shrugged and rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“I suppose I can let you spoil me just this once.” She tapped his nose. “But don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied with a kiss on her forehead. 

[wing-ed-thing]

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part IV)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,429

Warnings/Tags: @tiktoktheclockisticking​ Bullying, Language, ANGST CITY, Alcohol, Side Iruka x Reader, Fem!Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I’m fully expecting to get messages in my inbox that range drastically in forcefulness. Perhaps a “how dare you” or two. 

You stood outside of Shushu-ya, almost as if you expected to be told to come in. A silly notion. With a heavy sigh, you clenched the warped gift in your hands, starting to regret the shoes you wore among other things. But you know you couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t miss Iruka’s birthday. Your reluctant hand grasped the door and before you could chicken out, you heaved it open.

The group was easy to spot, even in Shushu-ya’s dim lighting. Everyone gathered around the bar. A few people sat in a large, open booth. The crowd made you nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of relief. You weren’t the first one there. Iruka spotted you immediately and waved you over. You took a sharp inhale before forcing yourself across the restaurant with a smile. You were, at the very least, glad to see him.

Iruka got up from his spot at the end of the extensive, circular seating and greeted you warmly. Knowing him, he sat at the end just to see people come in the door. He extended his arms to you in a hug. You happily embraced him. It had been quite some time since you got to spend any quality time with your friend. You handed him his present.

“As usual, you’re always so thoughtful.” Iruka pursed his lips, a sentimental expression coming upon him. Even still, the corners of his lips turned upward into that classic Iruka grin. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday, Iruka. Of course I’m going to get you something nice.”

Iruka motioned for you to sit down and carefully placed your gift in the pile he had accumulated. You took a seat among two ninjas who you only knew by name. Iruka sat down next to who you were fairly sure you recognized as Kakashi of the Sharingan. The mask made it difficult to tell. You took your place next to Might Guy, the Leaf’s Green, Taijutsu Beast. You looked over to Iruka and wondered how he made such powerful friends. You supposed it was hard to not be acquainted with any famous shinobi in Konoha. Perhaps that’s what happened when you weren’t afraid to talk to people. You spied a few more of your colleagues around the bar, including your teammates from the last mission you took. They didn’t seem particularly pleased about your presence, but no one was going to impulsively make a fuss in front of Iruka.

You kept your head down and that’s where it stayed. The conversation went, for the most part, without you. You ordered a water quietly. You weren’t the type to drink, especially when you were as on edge as you were in this particular setting. The waiter set down your glass, making a sort of a sour face. You stared at the clear liquid, supposing that not many ordered water from a bar.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” You looked up into Kakashi’s intense eye. “You know you’re not on the clock, right?” He chuckled and you nervously laughed with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” Iruka rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own drink. His kind gaze found yours. “You can do whatever you want, just know that the tab is already taken care of.” He looked past you and waved towards the bar. The bartender waved back.

“No, no. I completely understand!” Guy wrapped an arm around you, holding you a bit too close for the volume of his voice. You immediately let go of your drink. Your eyes went wide as he shook you with every word. “You gotta watch out for that hangover! Very smart! I commend you!” Kakashi tsked, tilting his head towards Iruka.

“Such a bad host, letting her sit next to Guy like that.” Iruka laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess the seat was open for a reason.” Guy pouted at the discourse across the table, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Nonsense! Tease me all you like but I just know that… uh…” He turned to you with an outstretched hand and as much embarrassment as Might Guy was capable of. “What was your name again?” You took his much larger hand in yours and spoke your name, realizing that you hadn’t prior. He immediately shouted your name as if to commit it to memory, shaking you even harder than before. His shout got the attention of the rest of the booth and you suddenly your self consciousness skyrocketed. “—and we’re going to be best friends by the time the night is over! What do you think? You down for a party?” And suddenly you were expected to respond. You glanced around nervously.

“Um, yeah. Sure thing… I just think it’s really nice how everyone’s together.” Despite your response, you still felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Sweat began to bead on your brow and your palms. You crossed your legs. “I feel like everyone’s always on missions so it’s nice to be among friends. And um, I can drink to that.” You glanced around the table once more, to Guy, to Kakashi, and then Iruka. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I couldn’t say it better myself.” You raised your water weakly.

“Happy Birthday, Iruka.” Iruka raised his glass of sake and a roar went around the booth and extended to the bar. Someone hastily ordered a round of shots for the whole group. They came quickly, likely due to whatever likely large tip Iruka gave to the bartender.

One slid across the hard surface over to you. You gripped it between your fingers. The alcohol went down your throat with a steady burn. You let out a gasp with a bat of your eyes. The aftertaste of the ethanol burned your nasal cavity. Kakashi let out a deep laugh. Guy patted you hard on the back causing you to cough. Iruka smiled, ordering another round. You took another shot. People filtered in the door. And as the night went on, the three of you took to greeting Iruka’s guests along with him. The party crew quickly overtook the bar. A dull roar overtook Shushu-ya.

More words spilled from your mouth than you thought ever would in one sitting. Your three colleagues listened to you intently, jovially, and exchanged stories of their own. A small crowd gathered around your booth, members flitting from the bar and back. And for once in your life, people actually listened to you. You told your stories animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis. You took in the smiles around you, tales of missions and edgy impressions flying from your lips. Distracted, you hardly noticed the looks exchanged by your old teammates as they leaned against the low back of the booth.

“And I said, ‘You don’t need a rag, you need a towel’!” All those gathered around you burst out in hysterics. You felt the low rumble of Guy next to you. Iruka couldn’t pick his head up from the table. Kakashi yanked him up by his collar, revealing Iruka’s red, cackling expression. Kakashi snorted, dropping the cloth under his hand to cover his own face as he mocked his longtime friend. Joyful tears were still welled in your eyes when a slender hand clamped onto your shoulder.

You looked behind you only to become face to face with the kunoichi from your team. Her ever prevalent scowl remained plastered to her lips but they swiftly upturned into a sickly sweet smile.

“Hey, why don’t you tell everyone about our last mission? Or should I say, your last mission.” Your eyes widened and a chill coursed down your spine, remembering her unforgiving grasp on your hair following your meeting with the Hokage. You clenched your fists underneath the table, balling up the fabric of your clothing. What did she want from you? She crinkled her nose at you smugly. “Shy all of the sudden? That’s okay, I can tell it.” You heard Kakashi clap his hands together. You jumped.

“I’m always down for a good mission story,” He admitted eagerly. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, this one’s not very interest—” Another hard slap on your shoulder. Her nails dug into your shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think they’ll all find this very interesting.” The kunoichi settled into her spot behind you, shifting her weight as she leaned forward. With a finger, she pointed out your two other team members. “See we were assigned with this one to find a scroll in a territory suspected of being owned by Orochimaru. ‘Cause she’s a wonder at blending in, right? That’s what we were told. And of course you know how these things go. Of course we find someone. Some bitch of Orochimaru—”

And as she described it, you could remember the scene vividly. Your teammates were reckless in their fighting and overall poor choices for a stealth mission. Flashy jutsu corrupted the frame of the underground system. The walls began to crack and shake. Your enemy had been caught off guard and outnumbered. Seeming to be already injured, there was only so much he could do to fight back. That was how you met Kabuto Yakushi.

“And so she doesn’t even warn us that the tunnel is, like, about to collapse. Some freak earthquake or something. So the enemy is knocked out cold and we’re running and running to try to find a way out and—”

You dove towards him. You didn’t know what drew you towards him in the first place but that’s what you did. As your team left without you, you tried your best to save the young ninja who had to only be as old as you. You tried to drag him but either you were too frail or he was too heavy. Your second option. Your hands ignited in healing jutsu, flickering on and off. You were by no means a healer, but your only thought in your panic was to get him awake. And as the maze of tunnels imploded around you, your world went black.

“So we don’t see her for days. You know, we think she’s dead. So in the meantime, we check out the other places on our list. Nada. We’re about to completely give up and then, wouldn’t you know, this one shows up having spent almost a week in enemy territory holding the exact thing we were looking for. Zero scratches and she apparently ‘doesn’t remember’ anything about it. Don’t you think that’s funny?” The kunoichi motions to your other teammates.

“I remember it being very funny,” One huffs, arms crossed. The small surrounding crown had gone silent. You dared to look across the table. Kakashi sat with his arms on the table, wordless. Iruka pursed his lips, equally expressionless. He cleared his throat. An awkward overtone laced the atmosphere.

“Well I think that’s enough of that—”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Almost there, though, I promise.” The kunoichi held up her hand. “‘Cause wouldn’t you know it? When we got back to the village, we found out that the scroll was a fake.”

“Well,” You squeaked, “Later we did find out that it was authentic after all—”

“But that was later,” She snapped. She ruffled your hair roughly, giving your head a slight push as she finally took her hands off of you. “Still doesn’t explain where you got it from.” She leaned in towards your ear. “Traitor.”

“Okay that’s enough.” Iruka stood from his seat. He extended his arm towards the door. “You three have clearly had too much to drink. I think it’s time for you to go home.” The kunoichi scoffed.

“We haven’t had too much of anything,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes and opened her mouth to say more. Guy turned with the most serious expression you had seen from him all night.

“He’s giving you an out. I suggest you take it.” He told her and apparently, that’s all it took for them to leave.

Iruka apologized for your team’s behavior but said nothing more about it for the rest of your time present. Most of the partygoers stuck to the bar now. Everything was off and you knew it would be as long as you were there. Your friends could hardly look you in the eye properly. You remained for a little while longer, starting to feel dreadfully sober. And when you thought you wouldn’t draw too much attention, you announced that you were leaving.

“Let me walk you out.” Guilt rattled around in your chest. It was Iruka’s birthday and you ruined it, just like you thought you would. And yet, he still offered to walk you out.

You allowed it, suddenly finding yourself standing outside of Shushu-ya, Iruka by your side. Even as the door closed behind you, you could hear the sound of Konoha’s nightlife. You waited for Iruka to speak, but the weight on your shoulders became unbearable.

“I’m not leaving because of you, you know. I had a good time. I really did, so go back in there and know that, okay?” You tried to read his face. He looked conflicted and the pounding of your heart only increased.

“I just want you to know that you have a friend. Eh, friends. No matter what.” You blinked at him a few times. You didn’t like how he said that last part.

“No matter what?” You let out a nervous laugh for the umpteenth time that night. Your eyes wandered erratically. “What do you mean by that?” You were expecting some reassurance, but none came. Your mind filled in the blanks. You took a step back. He took a step forward. “No matter if I sold out the Leaf? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I-I didn’t say that.” He stammered. Suddenly frantic. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” You gripped onto your strap bag. Another step back. Another step forward.

“I don’t think you sold out the Leaf. Not on purpose.” The tail end of that sentence stung. You began to tremble. Another person who thought that you were a traitor. “Listen, I had a student once. He’s out of the Academy now but he was in your shoes once.” You couldn’t look at him. You focused on your shoes, the shoes you’ve regretted wearing. “I know how guys like that are. I know how manipulative they can be, how they can convince you into doing something that you know you don’t want to do.” Your head snapped up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t convinced to do anything wrong by anyone.”

“I know how kind you are. I know that you had a good heart. No one’s going to blame you if someone took advantage of that. I don’t care what happened. We’ve known each other forever. I’ll always be here for you.” Iruka gently placed his hands on your shoulders and his forehead against yours. You became cognisant of how violently you quaked. You didn’t even register his confession. The sharp burning between your eyes threatened to spill over into tears.

“Iruka, please stop. Just tell me that you believe me.” You gripped onto his forearm, wanting to feel a semblance of comfort. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I do believe you.” Unconvincing. You looked into his eyes, salty droplets now silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Iruka nodded against you without a word. A beat. You gulped. “And Kabuto didn’t either.”

He pulled away, trying to fight a frown from crossing his face. You could see it. The realization morphing his features. Iruka tried his best not to show any of his mixed emotions, but he was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Who? The bingo book ninja?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. He always did that when he was nervous. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. D-didn't do anything wrong.” Once again, unconvincing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. Please, uh, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t look back. You ran home.

***

When you got to your apartment, you dropped to the floor. You scrambled for a kunai to pry open the floorboard. Throwing the plank aside, you plucked out the scroll. Unraveling it, you bit your finger, smearing your blood across the summoning symbol.

You were already starting to scurry off when Kabuto appeared. You walked right through the white cloud of smoke. He felt troubled, but that wasn’t something you picked up on. Kabuto immediately pulled out a scalpel in defense, ready for an emergency fight. You didn’t even tell him to lower his weapon. You didn’t blink twice. You stormed straight to your wardrobe, yanking out a large travel bag.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going out tonight.” Kabuto asked, but you ignored him, stuffing belongings inside the bag. You skittered frantically around the room, pulling sentimental belongings from your drawers and off your shelves. Kabuto looked on helplessly as you muttered to yourself. He could hardly catch you with how erratically you darted around your small living space. With enough calculation, he caught you, grabbing you by your wrists. You struggled against him. “Hey, hey, hey slow down. Tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him, rivulets still flowing from your eyes.

“Please, Kabuto,” You begged. “Let’s run away together.”

His immediate response was to let go of you, stumbling a bit backwards.

“What?” His mouth went dry.

“I—” You couldn’t even get your thoughts straight. You just spoke, everything spilling out of you. —“Please take me away from here.” Ever-suave, Kabuto found himself panicked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people for one thing—” You met his eyes, but in your haze you missed all that they told. You saw complete and utter rejection.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me that you’re not my enemy? You’re all I have.” Betrayal. If Kabuto could name the expression that washed over your face that would be it. You wiped the wetness from your skin with your sleeve. “Please, you know I would be quiet. You could have any of my books. I don’t even care about shoes on my bed. I don’t even need a bed just please let’s go right now!”

And for all of his big talk, Kabuto was at a loss. He wanted to. More than anything he wanted to scoop you off of your feet then and there, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring you to Orochimaru. You were supposed to be here in the Leaf. You belonged here in the Leaf. This was where you could be happiest, not on the run with him. He’s caused enough damage to your life.

“I can’t.” That was all he managed to make out without his voice cracking. And as he looked into your large, wet eyes, his heart shattered.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I-I can’t. I—” He kicked himself. —“You’ll be happier here.”

“I’ll be happier with you,” You pleaded. You balled up your hands in the front of his shirt. “Please, I love you.” Kabuto diverted his eyes from yours, clenching them shut.

“No, you don’t.” He placed his hands over yours, gingerly trying to remove you from him but you stood firm. “You’re drunk. I’m sure that if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’m not drunk!” You argued, getting even more desperate than you already were. “You told me to gather up some nerve so here it is! I love you! Please let’s go, just you and me. We can start over—” And with a few quick hand signs, you fell asleep.

Kabuto’s hand hovered over your forehead. He could see your fear, feel it too. He caught you as you began to collapse and brought you over to the bed. Knowing your recovery speed, the jutsu wouldn’t last for long. Perhaps it would last a half hour, maybe less. Anyone else and he would have expected them to be out for the rest of the night. He covered you with your blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, ready to recast his spell when you began to come to for the rest of the night. He knew that if you kept talking, he would have done exactly what you asked. Kabuto buried his head in his hands and uncharacteristically, for the first time in years, began to sob.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 15

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.8k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

"So, today's your day, what do we do?" Millie asked as I was driving.

Once again, I had picked her up at her job and I glanced at her, noticing her head was leaned on the bench and she was staring at me. i sent her a small smile and barely had time to see her raise her eyebrows before I put my eyes back on the road.

It was only the second day of our week and I was already feeling better. When I woke up, I felt my heart twist in my chest because of how nervous I was but I decided to focus on the things I'd do with Millie later in the day and I felt better. If I had known someone like Millie could bring me my smile back and would be so entertaining, I would have tried to get closer to her before, even if she annoyed the shit out of me.

"I don't like that look." Millie continued, making me chuckle.

"Don't worry, it's nothing extreme or bad. And after that, we can go out for ice cream, what do you say?"

She remained silent for a while and I finally parked the car and undid my belt.

"Mm, I'm getting out of my routine for you, Horan." she pointed out, her eyebrows raised again but this time, in a suspicious way. "So it better not be golf or any other sport."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to work out or run." I reassured her, my lips curling in an amused smile. "Although I admit I'm quite curious of how good you are at golf."

"I suck. Just like all the other sports."

I chuckled and she followed me upstairs. I told her to wait for me in the living room and disappeared in the hall to reach my bedroom. When I came back, her lips parted slightly and she let out a low chuckle.

"You don't really expect me to play guitar, do you?"

"My student of today canceled. I thought it could be a nice thing to do together." I replied, shrugging a shoulder. "I can show you a few things, I'm not bad of a teacher you know?"

She stared at me for a few seconds and finally moved her head and rolled her eyes, a smile spreading on her lips. "Alright, but don't laugh at me!"

"I promise."

She ended up being actually quite good even if sometimes, she didn't hold the strings hard enough, and after about half an hour, she could play a few chords. I was quite impressed at how fast she was learning and it made me want to take her as a regular student.

"Okay, bring your fingers up." I said gently, staring at her hand. "No, here."

I moved her fingers up, letting them slide on the string, and pressed my finger against hers to help before placing her other fingers on the other strings.

"Okay, perfect."

She moved her head down sliding, staring at her fingers as she played, and my lips curled a bit on the left when she started nibbling on her bottom lip. It was cute how focused she was and it was a great quality when you wanted to learn just about anything.

"Niall, help me, I feel like it's not the sound it should do."

I blinked a few times, getting out of my thoughts to look back at her fingers again. I moved one of them lightly down and pressed on it but this time, I kept it on hers as she played. She stuck her tongue out as if it could help her concentrate and I chuckled low. She didn't notice, too focused on what she was doing, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"Fuck yes, I got it!" her eyes illuminated and a smile drew itself on her lips as I blinked a few times.

"Okay do it again." I proposed, taking my hand away from hers so she could do it by herself.

She did what I asked and I smiled too when I realized she had actually succeeded it. After an hour and a half. she could play an easy song and I leaned against the couch, my eyebrows raised.

"Wow, you're good, Mill!" I exclaimed as she grinned, getting her back straight with pride.

"You're an amazing teacher, Niall!" she just replied. "How much do you charge to do this once a week?"

"For you? Nothing. It's free."

Her head tilted and her smile turned into a fond one. "Thank you."

I liked thinking that we would spend more time together, and knowing we would always have a specific day and time to meet. I knew that both our heartbreaks were going to be rough times to go through and I liked that we had each other. I knew that at the end of the week I was supposed to make a choice on who I wanted to date between Grace and Summer, but no matter who I was going to pick, there was no way I was going to stop spending time with Millie.

"So let's schedule that every tuesday evening?"

Millie smiled again and nodded firmly. "I'm always here."

---

We walked slowly while eating our ice cream and I breathed in deeply, enjoying the warm air of spring. I put my free hand in my pocket but didn't dare to break the comfortable silence between us. I just kept glancing at Millie from time to time, trying not to bump into anything. She seemed lost in her thoughts and I started wondering if she was thinking about Louis, wondering where he was, and what he was doing. The more I looked at her, the more I realized I wanted her to be happy. If I knew anyone who deserved to be, it was definitely her, and it was a shame that she was so sad and that no one could do anything about it. I felt so powerless and it made me think about my own pain. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, trying to push the sadness deeper in my stomach and took an other bite of ice cream as if it could bury it under.

"You're quiet."

I turned my head to look at my friend who was raising her eyebrows.

"You too."

"Were you thinking about Grace?" she asked in a low tone.

"Not really." I shrugged a shoulder. "Were you thinking about Louis?"

It took her a few seconds to answer but she looked away. "Maybe."

"I want to tell you that you shouldn't think about him, but I know it's not an easy thing to do."

"He's probably with his girlfriend that I don't even know the name of." she added low. Her voice was so sad that I felt my heart sink in my chest.

"Eleanor." I told her in a very low tone. "That's her name."

Millie stopped walking for half a second but then just continued. It made me swallow hard, wondering if maybe I should have kept this information for myself. It's not like she was never going to find out anyway and with the sparkles I had seen in Louis' eyes when he was talking to me about her, I knew she was going to stay for a long time.

Millie pressed her lips together for a few seconds and finally sighed, licking her lips nervously.

"I told you she had a royal name."

It was not the thing I thought she'd say and I chuckled low, remembering that she had actually mentioned that before and that it turned out to be true.

"How long does it take to get over someone?"

This time, my friend stopped walking and turned her head my way. I stopped too and turned around to face her and when she took a step closer, my lips parted slightly.

"It depends."

"It's not the first time I have my heart broken, but damn, this time hurts like hell." I explained, shaking my head. "I know she came back and said she wanted be with me again and that she regretted leaving me, but I can't trust her. She ruined everything between us and honestly, Millie, I am so mad at her. I think I'm even angrier now that she's back, because she literally broke my heart only to come back, as if that's what it took to make her realize that she loved me. As if she couldn't see what she was losing before she pushed me away."

Millie stayed there motionless, just listening to me ranting about my ex girlfriend. I sighed and turned around quickly, throwing what was left of my ice cream in the nearest trash can, and my friend followed me, doing the same. I was about to leave again when she grabbed my wrist and I quickly held my breath.

"She couldn't see it. Clearly. She made a mistake, that's for sure." Millie pointed out with a nod. "It doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"But that means she could leave again at any time. That means I will always be scared that she'll just break my heart again." I argued. "I'm not sure it's worth it."

"You should write that on the list."

I raised my eyebrows and quickly nodded. We found a bench and sad down together. Millie took a pen out of her purse and handed it to me as I slipped the paper out of my back pocket. I stared at it for a while, re-reading what I wrote about the two girls I was supposed to choose from, but I was not sure how to words things.

'I can't trust her' is the first thing I quickly scribbled before sighing and adding 'she broke my heart' right under it. I was about to fold the paper again but Millie gently placed her hand on it, making me look up in her eyes. She moved a bit closer, so close I could see the golden lines that looked like lightning bolts around her pupils.

"I think you need to also write something in the 'pros', don't you think?" she whispered.

I stared at her a few more seconds and finally wrote the first good thing under Grace's name. I could feel my hand shake very lightly as I moved my pen on the paper and when I was done, I thought I'd feel lighter but I actually felt even worse.

'I love her'

----

"I'm fucking starving." I pointed out when we pushed on the door of a small restaurant.

Millie laughed and raised her eyebrows at me, following me as I walked up to the counter. "When are you not?"

"Hey, it's not like I eat all the time or anything!"

"You could have cooked for us tonight!" she argued, ignoring my comment. "You're amazing at cooking but you're bringing me here! Or maybe you only cook for the pretty girls you want to date, is that it?"

Her lips curled into an amused smile and I knew she was joking but there was no way I was going to let her believe that I wouldn't cook for her, I raised my eyebrows too and moved my chin down, staring at her.

"I'll cook for you tomorrow, It's a promise."

It seemed to satisfy her and she sent me a big smile before nodding. The waitress brought us to a table and I suddenly lost my smile. On the table next to ours was sitting a pretty brunette and I swallowed hard when her brown eyes met mine. She seemed surprised too and I couldn't stop looking at her as she got up and sent me a small smile.

"Hey, Niall." she murmured softly, bringing her shoulders up and closer to her cheeks. "I didn't know you came here sometimes... I... I'm happy to see you."

"Grace, hi."

It took me a few seconds to glance quickly at who was eating with her and I noticed her best friend Rose, sitting awkwardly in front of her. I felt my whole body relax suddenly and at the same time, my heart jumped in my chest. If she had been on a date with an other guy, it would have been easier. I could have put a cross on her and not be so torn about how I felt. I wouldn't have to ask myself if I wanted to try with her again, and if it was worth risking having my heart broken a second time by the same girl. If she had been with an other man, I could have just turned around and left after telling her to 'fuck off'. But she was here with a friend and I knew it was totally platonic between them.

I got out of my thoughts when she moved closer to kiss my cheek and without thinking, I moved my upper body back. She looked hurt but she just sent me a sad smile.

"How are you?" she asked before turning around to look at my best friend. "Hey Millie."

"I'm... I'm alright."

A silence came between us but this time, it was uncomfortable. I could feel my heart thump hard against my rib cage and I swallowed hard, wondering what else I should do or say but before I could think of anything, Millie moved closer to me and smiled.

"Actually, we were not going to eat here, we wanted to take out."

"Oh." Grace glanced at her friend and finally shrugged, putting her gaze on me again. "Okay well, call me?"

"Will do."

"It was nice seeing you again, Grace!" Millie replied, grabbing my arm and bringing me back to the counter.

We remained silent until the waitress came back and my friend told her we were going to get take out instead as I remained silent. She ordered for both of us and the whole time, I stared at a spot on the counter to make sure I wouldn't just look at my ex girlfriend again.

I let out a loud sigh when we walked out and breathed in as if it was the first time I could do it in a few hours. Millie wrapped her arms around one of mine and leaned her chin on it to look up at me.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." I let out, completely confused. "I just want to go home."

Millie nodded very slowly, her chin rubbing gently on the sleeve of my shirt, and she squeezed my arm tight before letting go. I was not sure how I was feeling. I still loved Grace, there was no doubt about it, and seeing her again did something in my stomach, but I also knew that the love I had for her was different now. It was not intense and obsessed like it used to be. It was a sad and resigned love and I was not sure I liked it. I was starting to think that maybe, letting go of Grace and the feelings I had for her was the best thing to do to spare my heart. Maybe it was only because I had just seen her but I felt like going back with her would be a mistake and I was not sure I wanted to make it. I wanted to say that I had given this relationship as many chances as possible but I couldn't act like everything could be forgiven and forgotten because it definitely couldn't.

I would still play the game with the lists for the rest of the week but the more I thought about it, the less sure I was that I would be ready to pick a girl at the end of the week.

I noticed Millie glancing at me from time to time and it made me feel better. It was great to have someone close to me that actually cared. I had friends and family, of course, but with Millie, it was different. I could read her and I knew she could read me. We were going through the same thing and only her really knew how I was feeling at that moment.

"Can we just go back to that amazing friendship week together?" I asked, raising my nose up as we got closer to our apartment.

"Of course, why do you think I said we'd just bring the food home instead of staying there?"

I turned to her, my lips curling on the left. "Thanks for that."

"Hey, it's cool, I'm always here for you."

[headfulloffantasies]

WonderTrev Secret Santa

For @pennywaltzy Happy Holidays!

Sometimes- A WonderTrev fic. Rated PG

Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die.

Sometimes         

   Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die. Some nights, she saw the plane explode in a flash of orange against the black night sky. And when the smoke cleared, a white parachute drifted through the air. Diana ran across the landing strip, her boots pounding the asphalt. Steve’s knees buckled as he hit the pavement. Diana caught him, held him tight against her chest. It felt like crashing into the sun. His warm body, still alive, brough tears to her eyes. She vowed to never let go.

Steve’s arms wrapped around her. He said something into her ear. But like before, she couldn’t hear through the muffled ringing.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered. She ran a hand through his soft hair, pressing him even closer to her. His hands ran up and down her back, soothing the ache of loss.

They left the battlefield. They walked hand and hand away from a war finally won. They saved the world, and the promise of tomorrow was their reward.

Diana hated that dream. She woke with tears staining her pillow. Sometimes she put on her armor at night and went out looking for crime just so she wouldn’t have to face that dream. Eventually, she learned to live with the dream. She stopped putting on the armor.

Diana told her story to very few people. The legend of Wonder Woman became a myth, and then a fable. Just a story soldiers remembered hearing in the trenches. Sometimes though, Diana got lonely.

Bruce Wayne gifted her the photo of Steve, Samir, Charlie, and Chief. Diana sat down and sent him an email. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. Will you meet me for coffee? I’m ready to tell you my story.”

They met at Diana’s apartment. She set two mugs of earl grey tea on the coffee table. Bruce fidgeted on her couch, clearly unsure how to start this conversation. Diana sat next to him and began. “I was not born in the world of men…”

 Sometimes, when she had told people she’d lost her only love, people would say “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Bruce said nothing. He sat in his brooding silence when she finished talking. Diana’s tea had made had gone cold. Bruce finally lifted his eyes. They were blue like Steve’s, but icy where Steve’s had always been warm. Bruce took Diana’s hand in his.

  “Steve sounds like a very special person. Thank you for sharing. People like us seem to carry far too much pain.”

 “People like us?” Diana raised an eyebrow.

  Bruce didn’t respond. He gathered his coat and left.

  Diana wished sometimes she’d never left Themescara. The only people in the world who might understand her were barred from her. She could never return. But sometimes, she imagined what she might say to her mother. Diana could feel the sun-warm grass beneath her bare feet. She imagined sitting in the glade where she’d learned to ride horses. Her mother would sit across from her. They’d share a drink of wine.

Diana would lift her face to her mother and say, “I found a man worthy of the Amazons. The man Steve Trevor, who defended us on the beach.”

The imagined Hippolyta raised an eyebrow. “I recall his name, Diana. It’s not every century a man finds his way to our island.”

  “Yes, mother,” Diana hid a smile. “If I told you I loved him, what would you say?”

  Hippolyta also smiled. “So long as you are happy, I am happy for you.”

Diana swallowed hard. “I lost him.”

“Not all things that are lost are finished,” Hippolyta said.

Diana snapped from her daydream. Her mother had never said that before in her mind. Diana’s heart raced. Where had that thought come from?

             Not all things that are lost are finished.

  What did it mean? Diana was sure the thought had not come from herself.

The next day Diana sat at her desk in her office. She typed up her proposal for the museum’s newest exhibition, attaching her notes on the rarity of the Greek artifacts included in the display. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples. She’d had the dream again last night and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after.

Diana’s email pinged. She looked up, expecting something from her supervisor. The message had no subject line. She checked the sender. No sender listed. Diana frowned. She really shouldn’t open anything like this. She deleted the message, hoping no other spam would make it into her inbox. Another ping immediately drew her attention. The subject line of the new email read “READ ME, DIANA”.

There was still no sender. Diana chewed her lip. She clicked the message. It had only one line.

“Not all things that are lost are finished.”

A chill ran down Diana’s spine.

Another message popped up. Diana clicked it. She lurched back in her chair.

It was a photo of Steve Trevor. He wore a grey sweatshirt and glowered at the camera. The sight of him in colour stole Diana’s breath. This couldn’t possibly be real. Someone had photoshopped the image, surely. Diana frantically searched the message for the sender. No sender, but the subject line read “FIND ME”.

Diana’s pulse raced. Steve’s face swam in front of her eyes. Diana forced herself to her feet. A thousand memories crashed over her like a wave. Steve’s smile, his blue eyes, his hands clasped around hers, the snow falling between them. Diana could hear the music in the chilly square.

Diana couldn’t stand still anymore. She paced back in forth in front of her desk. Tears ached in her throat, but she forced them down. This couldn’t be real. Diana needed proof. She leaned over the desk and tapped frantically at the computer. There was one person she knew who would help without asking questions. Bruce Wayne.

She forwarded the photo of Steve along with a quick plea. “Can you verify this photo is real and find the source?”

Diana went back to her pacing while she waited. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. If Steve was alive-. She forced her thoughts elsewhere. She had to find whoever had sent the picture. Diana sat at her desk again. She stared at Steve’s face glaring back. His thick eyebrows pulled harshly over his eyes. Diana traced a finger over the crease in his forehead. The only photo she had of him was too faded and grainy to make out much of his neutral expression. She’d never forgotten how deeply he conveyed his emotions; but she hadn’t seen it in so many decades.

At last, Bruce replied to her request. Diana slammed her hand on the mouse to open his response.

“The photo is real. Unable to track the sender. Do you need backup?”

A sob clogged in Diana’s throat. Steve. Steve alive. How? How could this happen?

The sharp ring of Diana’s cellphone startled her out of her thoughts. “Hello.”

“Do you have any clues as to who did this?” Bruce’s low growl grounded Diana in her seat.

“No,” she admitted. “All I have is the picture.”

“I’ve also been receiving disturbing messages,” Bruce said.

Diana sucked in a breath. “Do you have any leads?”

“One,” Bruce did not elaborate.

Diana resisted rolling her eyes. Bruce remained as difficult to talk to as ever. “I would be grateful for any assistance you may have,” she said.

Bruce paused. Diana waited; the tempests of Bruce’s moods not new to her. “The messages I’ve had were not, let’s say, traditional.”

“How do you mean?”

“Dreams,” Bruce said curtly. “I’ve been having dreams of someone I thought to be dead. She might not be.”

Diana stilled. “I’ve also had dreams.”

“I’ll meet you in an hour.”

Diana went home. Bruce rang her door bell exactly one hour from when he hung up the phone. Diana welcomed him into her apartment.

Bruce glanced around the airy penthouse suite. He stuck his hands in his crisp suit pockets. “You have good taste.”

“We both know you’re not here to compliment my décor,” Diana closed the door. “Please sit,” she gestured to the couch. Bruce perched on the edge of the cushion. Diana noted he’d placed himself where he could see all the windows and doors. She didn’t comment.

Diana sat across from Bruce. “Tell me about your dreams.”

Bruce frowned. “They’ve been chaotic. I only ever dream of the night my parents died. Now, I’m having vivid recollections of Justice League missions. I thought maybe someone was trying to gather intel on the League.”

Diana noted the dark circles under Bruce’s blue eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

Bruce shook his head. “It seemed irresponsible to give her an in.”

“Her?” Diana raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You know who’s doing this to us?”

“Maybe. I have a suspicion.”

“Who is she?” Diana asked.

Something flickered across Bruce’s face too quickly for Diana to recognise. “Her name is Ace. I knew her when she was a child. It seems she’s grown up. And grown even more powerful.”

“How do you mean?” Diana pressed.

Bruce straightened his spine. Diana was beginning to recognise his stiff posture as a form of armor he gathered around himself. “Ace is psychic. When I met her, she was sick. Her powers overflowed, wrapping people in vivid hallucinations. I thought she had died in my arms.”

“Did you kill her?” Diana didn’t want to say it.

“No,” Bruce said. His sharp gaze reprimanded Diana for even asking.

She folded her arms over her chest. “If this girl can warp people’s minds, how do we know any of what’s going on is real?”

“We don’t,” Bruce pinned her with another look. “But are you willing to risk it?”

“Yes,” Diana replied immediately. Anything for Steve. The bubble of hope that had grown in her chest expanded. She didn’t dare nurture it. If all this was only a trick, she didn’t know how she’d react. She couldn’t lose Steve a second time.

“What do you propose?”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s probably easiest to go to sleep and wait for Ace to contact us.”

A knot of anxiety squeezed in Diana’s stomach. “Yes, I suppose,” she conceded.

Diana set Bruce up in her spare bedroom. The bed hadn’t seen any guests in quite some time. Bruce protested that he could sleep on the couch, but Diana refused.

“Hospitality is a virtue among my people.”

Diana left Bruce to try to fall asleep in her fresh sheets. She went to her own room and closed the door.

She laid down on top of her covers and closed her eyes. In the dark of her own thoughts, Diana thought of Steve. She recalled the smoke of their little camp in the European wilderness. Steve’s coat dropped around her shoulders. Charlie sang a soldier’s song of longing to go home. Diana watched out of the corner of her eye as Steve curled up and fell asleep on the ground. His face softened in repose. Diana longed to lay next to him, to drape his arm over her shoulder and to burrow into his side. She missed him dearly. What would she give for a chance to get him back?

Diana rolled over. Her alarm clock told her she’d been laying there for an hour. She sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to fall asleep. Diana levered herself up and went to check on Bruce.

She tapped softly at the door. There was no answer. She pushed the door open. Bruce lay half curled around a pillow; his fingers gone lax in their grip on the sheets. He’d thrown his jacket over the chair in the corner. Diana crossed over to the chair and settled herself down to wait until Bruce woke. His body had relaxed in sleep, but his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. It did not look peaceful.

Bruce woke with a jerk. He made a snuffling sound like an adorable puppy. Diana hid her smile behind her hand. Bruce sat up. His hair stood up in spikes on one side of his head. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and finally noticed Diana.

“How long were you there?” He asked, his voice rough.

Diana shrugged. “A few minutes only. I could not sleep.”

Bruce nodded. He slid off the bed and straightened his collar. “I got a location.”

Diana’s head snapped up. “Really?” She rose from her seat.

Bruce nodded. He slicked his hair back, all business again. “Ace showed me the facility she’s being held at.”

“And Steve?” Diana pressed.

Bruce frowned. “I think so. The details are fading. We should move.”

“You have your suit?” Diana asked.

Bruce smirked. “Always.”

Diana ran to change.

Bruce was waiting at the door when she came out in her armor. His face hid behind the black cowl. He cut an imposing figure with his cape trailing the floor and the horns on his head stabbing towards the ceiling. He reached for the door knob. “The Batplane is on its way. We’ll have to go to the roof.”

“Not that way,” Diana strode to the balcony and threw open the glass doors. She braced a foot against the balcony rail and turned back to Bruce. She extended a hand. “Are you coming?”

Bruce took her hand. She tugged him into her side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Diana lifted her head, calculating the distance to the roof. She bent her knees and jumped. They rocketed into the air. They launched up over the roof. For one second, they were suspended over the city, the sunset spreading golden below. Then they dropped. Diana adjusted her grip on Bruce to compensate his weight. She took the force of their landing with a jolt through her bones.

Bruce scrambled out of her grip. “A little warning would have been nice,” he grumbled.

The roar of an engine alerted them of the Batplane before it appeared at the edge of the roof. Bruce strode over to the tiny aircraft. Diana approached the cramped cockpit dubiously.

“I can fly behind you,” she offered, noting the single seat.

“No,” Bruce answered. “We have to make a plan as we fly. Ace said there wasn’t much time left.”

“Fine,” Diana climbed into the craft. She squeezed her knees behind the pilot’s chair. Bruce leaped in and flicked a dozen blinking switches on the controls in front of him. The canopy descended and sealed with a hiss. Diana wriggled her shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure of something digging into her spine.

“Tell me what Ace said,” Diana demanded as the plane roared to life and surged towards the horizon.

Bruce kept his eyes on his instruments. “They’re in a facility underground. Someone’s been running tests on them. Experimenting.”

  Diana’s stomach dropped. Images of a faceless scientist hurting Steve ran through her mind. She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

Diana finally asked the question that had burned in her chest for hours. “Did you ask Ace about Steve?”

  Bruce nodded. “She said he’s been there the longest. But not awake? She thinks he was in some kind of suspension until recently.”

Diana held back a growl. “What’s the plan?”

  Bruce glanced back at her. “There are other prisoners there as well. The priority should be getting them out.”

“Agreed.”

Bruce passed a radio back to Diana. “We’ll have to split up. Do you think you can make a loud distraction?”

Diana managed a savage smile. “I can do that.”

The bunker in the snowy woods crouched against the side of the mountain like a soldier defending its stance. Diana marched straight up to the solid iron doors. Her shield hung loose in her grasp. Her sword trailing the ground left a slice through the newly fallen snow. She approached with her shoulders back and head high. Diana didn’t bother yelling for attention. She drew back her leg and slammed her heel against the door. The metal buckled. Diana kicked again. The hinges groaned. One more attack and the doors crumpled in on themselves.

The tunnel leading down into the earth yawned black and abandoned. But Diana could hear the sound of running feet and shouting. Too late, an alarm shrieked overhead.

  Diana strode down the tunnel. Just as the smooth floor evened out, a dozen armed guards rounded the corner. Diana leaped. She slammed into the oncoming assailants. They didn’t stand a chance. Diana cut through them with her lasso and shield. Once they were all down, she looked around. The grey concrete hallway she found herself in branched to the left and right. To the left she heard more shouting and stomping feet. To the right, then. Away from the security’s hub, where Bruce was slowly making his own covert progress.

Diana took her time, moving at a sedate pace. Any time a new batch of guards caught up, she disarmed and dispatched them quickly. She was aware of the blinking cameras in the corners following her every move. She did not care. Calculated fury filled Diana as she marched through the base.

Losing Steve before had given the same battle clarity. But this was different. The incident with Ares had been fire. This was cold as ice. Steve was here. Nothing else mattered.

Diana descended down a flight of stairs to a white door marked “Labs”. Diana shoved the door open.

  The smell of disinfectant hit her nose. She found a room of sterile white chambers. Diana drew nearer, a humming sense of urgency finally breaking through her cold exterior. Each chamber resembled a cell with a white bunk and a glass wall separating it from the rest of the lab. Figures moved in each chamber.

Diana drew level with the first cell. A woman pressed against the glass. She wore the same grey sweatshirt and pants as Steve in the photo. Her stringy hair fell across her eyes. Those same eyes widened at Diana’s approach.

  “Wonder Woman?” The woman gasped. “Are you here to save us?”

“Yes,” Diana nodded. She drew back her shield and slammed it into the glass. The woman ducked with a yelp. The shield ricocheted off the glass, the vibration jarring Diana’s arm all the way to the shoulder. The glass didn’t so much as crack.

Diana stared in disbelief.

“They knew you’d come,” the woman whispered.

“Who are you?” Diana demanded.

“Tara.” The woman sniffed miserably. “I’ve been here for ages. Doctor Leslie talks about you all the time. She hates you. She designed the cages to be impenetrable.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Diana studied the locking mechanism on the cell door. It looked like a simple key card lock. Diana brought her sword down on the lock. It

Tara stepped out on shaking legs. “Thank you.”

“I’m searching for someone,” Diana said. “His name is Steve Trevor.”

Tara nodded. “He’s here. Doctor Leslie came and took him away when the alarms started.”

Diana didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved.

She released the rest of the prisoners. They told her the same thing: they knew of Steve, but hadn’t spoken to him. They’d all been experimented on, but the head scientist, Doctor Leslie, seemed to hate Steve more than the others.

Diana pointed Tara and the others towards the exit. “Head that way. Keep out of sight.”

The prisoners scurried away. Diana hefted her sword and kept going. Somewhere here, Steve was wandering around. She’d find him.

“Diana,” the radio Bruce had given her crackled to life. “I’m in the main security office. I have control of the building.”

Diana pulled the radio from her belt. “Where is Doctor Leslie?”

“Keep heading forwards. She’s holed up in lab 237. I’ll meet you there.”

Diana’s heart pounded in time with her boots as she ran down the hallway. The numbers on the lab doors streaked by. She skidded to a halt outside lab 237.

The door hung open. Diana unsheathed her sword. The lights were off in the room. Computers whined at the numerous desks. Strings of numbers ran over the screens, casting flickering patterns of light on the walls. Diana edged forward. At the head of the room, a woman bent over a desk, pressing keys on the computer.

“Stay there,” Diana ordered.

The woman’s head jerked up. Her hair escaped her bun in wild curls and her glasses sat askew on her face.

“Doctor Leslie?” Diana asked. She took another step closer.

The doctor adjusted her glasses. “My, you are a specimen, aren’t you?”

Diana ignored the jibe. “Where is Steve Trevor?”

“Dead.”

The world fell like a bolder on Diana’s shoulders. The air punched from her lungs. She flew across the room and grabbed a handful of Doctor Leslie’s lab coat. “You’re lying,” Diana growled.

Doctor Leslie seemed unaffected by the fact that her feet no longer touched the ground. Her face twisted with rage.

“Do you remember Doctor Poison?” Doctor Leslie hissed. “She taught me everything I know. And she had a special hatred for you. Together we found your precious Steve Trevor after the war. She put him on ice. She refused to bring him out to play. But after her death, how could I not avenge my dear teacher?” She chuckled. “He was such a lovely specimen. I’ll cherish his last moments forever.”

  A stripe of panic ran down Diana’s spine. “No.”

  “Yes,” Doctor Leslie cackled. “Dead! I killed Steve Trevor! How does it feel?”

Diana’s grip on the woman’s collar tightened. Doctor Leslie gasped for breath. Cold chilled Diana to the bone. She’d let the men responsible for Steve’s death live once before. Not this time. She’d raze the base to the ground.

“Diana?”

Diana knew that voice. Her fingers went lax. Doctor Leslie collapsed onto the floor. Diana hardly noticed. She turned.

“Steve?”

He stood in the doorway. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. Diana stood still as the statue of Zeus as Steve came closer. He held his hands out to the sides as if approaching a startled animal. His blue eyes were deeper than she remembered. Diana took the last step separating them.  

She reached out for his face with a shaking hand. She pulled her fingers away just an inch from his skin. “I don’t want this to be a dream,” she said.

“Diana, I’m here,” Steve assured her. His pleading eyes begged her to believe him. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Diana crushed him to her chest. He still smelled the same. Apples and musk underneath the disinfectant of this place. Diana curled her fingers in the short hairs at the back of his neck. His cheek pressed to hers.

“I’m here,” Steve murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a scrambling noise as Doctor Leslie hauled herself from the floor and made her break for the door. Diana’s hand went to her lasso. Before she could snap the magic rope around the doctor’s ankle, Doctor Leslie ran straight into a shadow standing in the doorway.

Batman glared down at the doctor. She cowered.

Diana turned back to Steve, ignoring Bruce snapping cuffs on the doctor’s hands.

Diana wrapped Steve in her arms again. “I was so scared I lost you again,” she admitted.

“Give me that magic lasso,” Steve demanded. Diana unraveled it into his hands.

Steve wrapped the cord around his wrist like he had those ages ago in London. The magic glowed gold on his skin. “I am never leaving your side again.”

Diana didn’t know how long she and Steve stayed there wrapped in each other’s arms. At last, Bruce cleared his throat. Diana pulled back from Steve enough to crane her head at Bruce.

“Did you find Ace?” Diana asked.

“Yes.” A young woman with short black hair peeked out from behind Bruce’s shoulder. Her grey eyes danced with mirth.

“I knew you’d hear me,” Ace said. “Steve won’t shut up about you. I knew if you loved him half as much as he loves you, you’d come for him.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed. Diana laughed at his blush. She dropped her hand to grasp Steve’s fingers. “Let’s go home.”

[dreamersleeps]

So, as someone whose father is very similar to Endeavor, I've never understood the notion that Horikoshi is trying to whitewash or excuse his abuse by giving him a character arc. Abusers are awful people, but it's not often that they're one-dimensional villains. Nobody ever talks about how confusing it is when your abuser wakes up and sees the damage they've caused, much less when they clumsily try to make ammends. It seems fans would rather it all be simple, when it's anything but in reality

/2 Are there ways it can be handled better? Of course. But a writer making an effort to explore the complexities of abuse through all its angels is far from abuse apology. It’s much more respectful (imo) to treat the situation like the confusing, complicated mess it is in reality, rather than reduce it to some simple cartoonishly evil bullshit that either limits the survivors of his abuse to being lifelong victims, or enables the continued abuse perpetuated by a former victim (i.e., Dabi)

Hello, I’d like to thank you for sharing your thoughts and opinions. I was actually surprised to open up Tumblr to see your messages in my inbox. I spent the past couple of days sitting on and thinking about it. I’m not sure if you were asking for my thoughts and opinions, but I’ve finally sat down and written my response. It’s late at night so I apologize if there are any statements below that are poorly worded or expressed. 

As you express, it’s a very complicated topic as a whole, because Endeavor, or Todoroki Enji is a complicated character. 

I can not and will not claim that I understand abuse like those who have experienced it. Additionally, It’s not in my place to tell people how to feel or think. However in response to what you shared, I will give some of my thoughts as a reader and fan of BNHA on the topics surrounding Endeavor. (Btw to the anon: some of what I have to say below will be my general opinions about the topic as a whole.)

When I try to write meta and other analysis pieces, I try my best to go back to the manga and base my analysis and arguments on the (official) translations instead of my opinions and thoughts from the beginning. I sometimes have to go back and re-read chapters to remind myself what is “canon” and then try to understand and express my interpretations on the matter. This is not to talk down on those who do not do this: this is just something I do for myself. I am most definitely influenced greatly by what others have to say but I also want to figure out my own interpretation of the story and characters.  

So, as someone whose father is very similar to Endeavor, I’ve never understood the notion that Horikoshi is trying to whitewash or excuse his abuse by giving him a character arc. 

I personally never really saw it as Horikoshi trying to excuse Endeavor’s abuse by giving him a character arc as well. As many others have stated, I don’t see it as a “redemption arc,” because it isn’t. 

I think that we all have to remember the diversity of the fans and readers of this and other fandoms. There are those who can personally relate to or understand what the Todoroki family has gone through, and others who are unable to. Those who are unable to fully understand certain experiences but can sympathize with the characters however even then, this lack of knowledge or exposure to the topic has led to people accidently expressing opinions that hurt or offended others. Additionally, based on what I’ve seen and read on Tumblr, there is quite a wide range of differing viewpoints from those those who can relate to the experiences of the Todoroki family.

Abusers are awful people, but it’s not often that they’re one-dimensional villains. Nobody ever talks about how confusing it is when your abuser wakes up and sees the damage they’ve caused, much less when they clumsily try to make amends. It seems fans would rather it all be simple, when it’s anything but in reality.

Abuse is complex. There is a very wide range of complicated feelings, emotions, thoughts and opinions that surround it. Everyone has a reason as to why they feel or think the way they do. Because we all have had different experiences and reactions to the events of our lives, we can not expect everyone to think similarly. 

Given that BNHA or shounen manga in general is catered towards a younger audience (compared to, lets say seinen manga) and Horikoshi is working with topics that are difficult to read or understand even for adults, I’d argue that part of the discourse may result from that. 

It seems like when we say that we like a certain character, people tend to automatically assume then that we approve of what they stand for and what they’ve done. I first watched the first two seasons of BNHA before I began reading it. I absolutely hated Endeavor in the beginning, however after I caught up in the manga and began to follow the chapter releases each week, ultimately the characters that really pulled me in to the story was Endeavor, Hawks, and Bakugou, arguably some of the most controversial characters of the series. 

Are there ways it could be handled better? Of course. But a writer making an effort to explore the complexities of abuse through all its angles is far from abuse apology. It’s much more respectful (imo) to treat the situation like the confusing, complicated mess it is in reality, rather than reduce it to some simple cartoonishly evil bullshit that either limits the survivors of his abuse to being lifelong victims, or enables the continued abuse perpetuated by a former victim (i.e Dabi) 

What truly drew me in was the complexities that came with their characters. I haven’t personally experienced abuse however I have lived through other experiences to recognize in my own understanding that life is both so negatively and positively complicated, confusing and messy. Some people want to see Endeavor fall, and others hope to see him actually change. These wishes are shaped by what we’ve seen or experienced throughout life. 

We like simple, clear cut, perhaps one dimensional characters because it’s easier to form an opinion about them. It seems like we struggle with characters like Endeavor and others because we are sometimes faced with the contradicting collision of our own thoughts, morals and beliefs with the actions and story of these characters. 

For some reason a lot of my analysis posts have revolved around Endeavor, Hawks, and Dabi and if anyone is interested, I personally believe that as much as we may love a character, whoever it may be, actions should and will be met with consequences. Tragedy does not excuse one’s actions. They may explain one’s actions but we are responsible for and should be held accountable for the consequences that result from it.  

If anyone was thinking it, this all does not mean that I think Horikoshi should be exempt from critique. And as you ask and answer, “Are there ways it could be handled better? Of course.” Additionally as I have written on the top of my blog, 

There will be posts found here that you may not agree with, however different perspectives are what keeps the meta conversation going. 

I think that many of us would prefer it if people would refrain from accusing, insulting or bullying Horikoshi and other fans because of their thoughts and opinions. Although it is understandable that it is difficult when we respond to the story and others emotionally, taking part in these types of activities is not the same as critiquing something. 

Boku no Hero Academia is still an ongoing manga. We get one chapter every one or two weeks at a time and so we only get little snippets of the full story. Based on new info and what we’ve read in past chapters, we make predictions, assumptions and have expectations about the future. However, I think that we all have to remember that the story of Enji, Rei, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shouto is not complete yet. We are still in the midst of an unfolding narrative that Horikoshi is working closely with to present his readers. 

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: I just don’t understand how Mark is getting so much hate??? Absolutely adore the man, so much fun to write problematic characters. But seriously, he needs to check his inbox, because I think multiple death threats have been sent already. Love you lot!

Sorry this took me so long, by the way. I had to rewrite it because the first draft was shit. And I think I’m just gonna throw the uploading schedule out the window, because it’s not fun that way for me anymore. I want writing to still be something I can find relief in, not stress.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Song recommendations: Dance Little Liar by Arctic Monkeys, or A Tragic Fate from the Professor Layton soundtrack

Chapter VI - Mad Sounds

When she was younger, her parents were thinking about divorcing. And that’s really something to deal with at such a young age. So, she found solace in the only things her mum had lying around; books.

Books had been the only reliable thing in her entire life. The words were solid on paper, the storyline was set, and it had an end and a beginning. Nothing she had to go through; she only had to be a spectator from above, able to criticise people for the mistakes they made and commend heroes for their virtuous adventures.

It’s why she would describe her life to be something of a book. However, it was a story that seemed to have no ending. An intricate plotline that just kept on going, daring her to just mark the page and close the cover on it whenever she was getting sick of it. To just leave those heavy chapters weighing her down behind her, never to look back.

She felt like she was only at the middle of the story, where things should be going easier, because she could just leave her book open without the pages turning on their own because of the stiffness of the brand-new cover.

She had it all, really; though sometimes still in doubt, her parents were together, she had a man she could rely on who she would marry, and a nice apartment to get back to.

She barely felt the raindrops touching her face, as her entire body appeared to be numb.

She stood there, in front of the restaurant, for what seemed like ages, until the bells of the church struck eleven, and she was still unsure of why she was unable to move any of her limbs.

Warm hands touched her arms, comfortable, yet firm. They must have noticed how cold she was getting, because they draped a dark jacket over her shoulders. “You’re shivering,” she vaguely heard, “Let’s get you somewhere warm, shall we?”

She nodded, the events of the evening finally playing back all over again. Her stomach felt heavy, and her heart was beating at a faster rate than it usually was. “Do you think he’ll come back?” she muttered.

Brown eyes swept over her, and a chill went down her spine. She couldn’t tell what they were thinking; she only saw a calculated determination to make sure she was okay. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “But I know he wouldn’t want you to have caught something by the time he gets back.”

She barely gave a nod of her head, which was enough indication for Alex to tuck her under his arm, and walk her through the empty streets of a rainy Sheffield. At the very least, the downpour would hide the fact that hot tears were silently slipping down her face.

 She must’ve looked like a real mess; standing shivering in a soaked wet dress in front of a brick building, tucked tightly between other brick buildings, as Alex fumbled with his keys. Once finally catching his bearings, he was able to twist the lock open, and push back the door that were adorned with gleaming golden numbers reading ‘505’.

It was a shared complex, with an apartment downstairs and one up, which was Alex’ place.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, really, but the home was quite cosy, most likely because of it’s size, and if she had to describe its contents in a few words, they would be ‘retro simplicity’.

Brown leather couches which looked very well worn made up most of the living room, along with a radio that sat upon a wooden cabinet stashed with liquor of all sorts. One of the walls was almost entirely covered by built-in shelves, holding many books and records alike, but leaving just enough room to be able to open the door on that very same wall.

The radio was still softly playing old tunes, with hints of soul and jazz. The rain tapping against the windows had almost drowned the sound out completely, if she hadn’t been standing so close to it. Alex turned up the volume a tad.

“I recognize that song,” she said, “my mum used to play it a lot when my grandmother passed away. It was her favourite song.”

“She had good taste,” he replied with a friendly crook of his mouth. He staggered off to the kitchen, and she heard him put the kettle on as she hesitantly took a seat on one of the large sofa’s. If it hadn’t been leather, she wouldn’t have even dared to step close to them.

“I know it’s not much. But it’s home.” He handed her a steaming cup, and almost simultaneously drew a blanket over her lap. He suddenly paused, and glanced up at her, “I’m sorry, I just assumed you took milk and sugar.”

She shook her head, “That’s the way I like it.”

He hummed, and sat down in front of her on the coffee table.

“I should apologize,” he said.

She gave him a questioning look, inviting him to explain.

“I crossed the line with the way I was acting back at the restaurant. I was being a total arse, and quite possibly just ruined any chance of maybe remaining in touch with you altogether. I’d understand you wouldn’t want me to come to your wedding. Hell, you barely even know me.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his, as she took a moment to think. “For some reason, I feel like I’ve known you all my life. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone who I was able to talk so freely with from the get-go, and I can only say that it sort of frightens me.”

“Why?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I suppose you can understand that it might seem quite odd to my fiancée that I’m parading about town with another man in the middle of the night, one I met only a few evenings before at that.”

He gave her a look. “That’s not what I was asking.”

“Why were you being an ass towards Mark?” she continued, decidedly avoiding the question.

He hesitated, his hands gripping the edges of the table a bit tighter, as if they kept him from falling over or summat. “Annoyance. Jealousy, perhaps.”

“Jealousy?”

He huffed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t quite figure that out yet. You’re a writer. I see someone being lousy towards a pretty girl, or anyone just around a pretty girl, for that matter, when I know they could be doing so much better. It bothers me.”

“So I’m just a pretty girl?”

“What would you want me to think of you as, then?”

He got her there. But she wasn’t yet willing to let it all go. “And what would be so much better for me? You? You barely even know me, perhaps I’m a horrible person. Perhaps Mark is the one that could do so much better.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I didn’t see you walking away from an argument.”

She stiffened slightly in her seat, thinking back on all other times they had had a fight. “Mark is just… he needs to cool down. It’s just his way of handling things, and I can only respect that.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t cool down?” he daringly asked.

This time, the look she gave him was a clear warning. He had indeed crossed boundaries tonight, more so than what should even be considered okay if they had been close friends. But they weren’t, and she was starting to take notice of the fact that she was quite easily giving her trust to this man.

“I can honestly say, and smack me across the face if you must, but after that brief meeting we had, I knew you shouldn’t marry him. You don’t fit together, and that’s not because of your lack of trying or incapacity to agree on certain things, but it’s because I can tell that there’s something going on between you that you don’t want to talk about.”

She didn’t slap him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was as if he had smacked her across the face with a harsh reality she had been trying to hide. And only then did something she had been wondering since the moment she met him cross her mind once more.

“You’re…” Yes, that must be it. “No, never mind.”

He shook his head, “Humour me.”

“Don’t start laughing at me.”

“I never would.”

She got off the couch, and strode across the room with a sudden surge of energy she hadn’t been sure could still muster up before. She looked out across the window, over the smoking chimneys of old Sheffield, and it was as if everything just clicked in her mind.

“You’re… You’re not real, are you?”

He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need him to.

“You’re just a figment of my imagination,” she muttered, her thoughts finally able to form into verbal words. She looked down at her hands, as if they were the only thing that kept her from spiralling. “A hallucination of a chronic insomniac. You’re nothing but a dream, a test. I’m just dealing with a lot of emotions and stress, and this is all a coping mechanism…”

“A test?” he asked distantly.

“A test to see if I’m really ready to get married.”

When she heard him hum, he was a lot closer than she expected, and had already felt the heat radiating off his chest on her back before he’d even made a noise. Turning around, she was met with a dark pair of eyes, a gaze so intense she felt like her feet were suddenly cemented to the floor.

His shirt was sticking to his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination, and the fringe at the top of his head was as messy as her ragged breaths.

“If I’m just a dream, how can I do this?”

She didn’t stop him when he tilted his head, nor when his warm lips met hers with a gentle fire. Passionately, and slowly, they moved against hers, until the tingling sensation it sent through her made it impossible for her to refrain. And so, she kissed him back.

Nothing like what she’d ever felt with anyone else, something almost too good to be true. Like first kiss, hesitant and new, but with an unrealistic perfection. It shouldn’t feel this way. Her hand running across his wet chest shouldn’t make her want to pull him only closer. Her hips shouldn’t feel such satisfaction as he squeezed them and pulled them against his.

Her eyes opened, not even having realized she had had them closed right as skin met skin, and when she wasn’t met with a curly bush of brown, but only a slicked back messy fringe of pure perfection, she panicked.

“I… I have to go.” It was barely muttered against his lips, but he’d heard it.

He was unable to say any more, as she had somehow already rushed through the room and down the steps. And as the front door slammed shut with a finality, she had left him. And he continued to spend his night like any other night; all alone.

 Last night had felt like a dream, something that didn’t sedate the terrifying realization she’d had when the dots finally connected. She lay awake all night, her eyes barely blinking as they continued to glare at the red digital numbers on her alarm clock, until she turned it off precisely a minute before it would start blaring.

She had thought about just staying in bed for the rest of the day. She had also thought about calling Mark. But Mark would call her, those were the rules. If he called her, he had cooled off and everything would be fine again. It would all go back to normal, and she would never go to town in the dark again. Not ever did she have to see his face again.

But her plans went out the window to just keep waiting underneath her comfortable sheets, which had made sure her dress was dry by now, when she heard her mum open the front door and invite people in.

A few minutes after she was called to join them for breakfast, and that she shouldn’t have to worry about wearing her pyjamas like she always did.

So, she did the sane thing and got changed into her pyjamas, cleaned her face of all blotches of makeup and headed downstairs.

At the dining table sat a couple who appeared to be around her mother’s age, with greying features, but kind eyes. They seemed vaguely familiar, so she was unsure of whether she had to introduce herself or not. If she somehow did know them, she would look like a fool.

But thankfully, her mother took notice.

“Grab a plate dear, and join us.” She did as was told, as her mother continued to talk about how she met the couple in one of her group couple therapy sessions, ones she and her father still attended regularly.

She’d only gotten to point of introducing them to her when she had already sat down, something she was thankful for, because if she hadn’t been, she would’ve most definitely fallen over.

“These are mister and missus Turner.”

Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach, as her eyes met the brown orbs of what was most assuredly Alex Turner’s mother.

“-They were just telling me about their son.”

And oh, how she wished she could’ve just closed the book by now.

***

@alexbandguy86​​​ @bettyschwallocksyee​​​ @fookingsummertime​​​​ @juicebox-baby​​​@darksydork7​​​ @edgythought​​​ @ssadderdaze​​​​ @h0twasabi​​​​ @rogerseyeliner​​​​ @zcars777 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo​ @rosemallowss​​​

[cocastyle]

Despite It All

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 2,442

Warning - none

Prompt - (request by @big-dick-denbrough ) Hi! I love your writing and was wondering if you have the time could you write a young bill denbrough x reader? Where bill gives the reader some clothes so she can stay over. And before they go to sleep he's being all cutesy kissing the reader and her neck and just being sweet and clingy. And he falls asleep nuzzled and cuddled up on the reader's chest. Over all just wholesome fluff. 🥰

A/N - quarantine is kicking my butt and all I want to do is just see my friends again and be able to finish my senior year :(( is that too much to ask? in the mean time though I’ve been able to catch up on quite a bit of things and finally painted/rearranged my room and finished some other things I’ve been trying to finish for a while now. I thought I would take a break and write up this request which is super cute!! I hope you all like it!

requests are open so if you all would like something send it to my inbox please :))

The soft pitter patter of rain and the sound of colored pencils grazing across paper was all Bill could hear as he sat at his desk late one night, his sketchbook lying in front of him. He had his concentration face on as he drew, a soft smile taking over his features as the drawing came even closer to being finished.

It was a drawing of a young girl, her h/c hair flowing behind her while she gazed back at the viewer from behind some sunflowers in her hands. This drawing was supposed to be for his girlfriend Y/N. He knew that she had been having some trouble lately with nightmares and he had wanted to cheer her up with a drawing of his.

She had always gushed about his art, saying it was nothing like she had ever seen before. Bill couldn't tell him she was saying that just to be nice, but he didn't care because the way she looked at the art and then to him had him believing it. He had drawn many pictures for her before, but it had been a while since the last drawing he had given her. That led Bill to thinking that giving her a drawing might make her feel better.

Bill was just about to finish with the sunflowers and move onto the last touch details of the hair when a knock had him jumping in his seat. If it had been from his door, he probably wouldn't have even thought twice about it, but the knocking was coming from his window which also happened to be on the second floor of his house.

He found his green eyes flickering over to the window and he was quick to slam his sketchbook shut before rushing over to the window. On the other side was none other than his girlfriend Y/N who had her head lowered as the rain rolled off her already drenched body.

Bill didn't even hesitate to throw his window open, his eyes taking in the girl in front of him as a worried look crossed his face. "Y/N?" he whispered and that was when her e/c eyes flashed up to lock with his.

Bill's breath hitched in his throat just like it did every time he saw her eyes and he would've lost his ability to breath as well from just how beautiful she was if it weren't for the fact that she was crying, her tears mixing in with the rain.

It didn't look like the girl was in the mood to talk so Bill just gave her a soft smile and held his hand out for her to take. Y/N gently took it and Bill couldn't help but smile wider at the feeling of her hand in his, his whole body warming instantly as it always did whenever he held hands with his girlfriend.

Bill helped the girl climb inside and was quick to bring her to the nearest bathroom. Luckily his parents had already gone to bed, so he didn't have to worry too much about being caught but he was still quiet just in case.

He left the girl standing by the bathroom and returned seconds later with not only a towel but a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts as well. "Here," Bill whispered as he handed the items to the girl. "G-G-Go rinse off and warm yourself up so I don't have to worry about m-m-my girlfriend dying from hypothermia."

He sent the girl a teasing smile, but all Y/N could muster was the small upturn of her lips before she had turned and walked into the bathroom, leaving Bill to stare after her in concern.

Bill was sitting on his bed with a worried look on his face by the time Y/N came back and he quickly jumped up onto his feet at the sight of her. It took a second for him to process that she was standing there with his clothes on and once it had, he couldn't help but stare at her agape, his cheeks reddening slightly. How had he gotten so lucky to have a girlfriend as pretty as Y/N?

Her tears were gone now, but her eyes were still a little red as she looked down at the floor embarrassed. It took Bill but a second to put together what must've happened and he sighed before taking a few quick strides across the room.

His arms were wrapping around the girl almost instantly and Y/N was quick to react, balling her hands into fists around his shirt as she tucked his shoulder under her chin. Bill nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck with his arms tight around her waist and he held her like that until he finally felt her begin to relax more and more.

Bill pressed a soft kiss to the girl's neck, smiling softly once he felt her begin to smile against him. He held onto her a little tighter and inhaled her scent once before letting out a sigh of content.

"Another nightmare?" Bill finally asked, his voice warm and comforting despite the heavy topic.

Y/N was silent for a moment as her grip on the boy tightened. She had been getting nightmares ever since the end of the summer and the horrors with It. The nightmare was always the same thing with Pennywise torturing her before realizing it wasn't working and moving onto Bill and her other friends.

They were tortured before her very eyes until It was sure the girl was afraid. Then he would kill them and there was nothing she could do about it, her screams being what woke her up every night. Their screams of pain were what kept her up for the rest of the night, echoing through her ears despite it having been nothing but a dream.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and whispered, "Yes."

That was all Bill needed to hear and he frowned before pressing another kiss to her neck and pulling away to look at her. "You w-w-want to sleep over for the night? I can set an alarm so that we make s-s-sure you're gone before my parents wake up," Bill suggested.

Not wanting to be a bother, the young girl was about to deny, but the hopeful look in Bill's eyes was enough to have her slowly nodding her head. A huge grin broke out on Bill's face at that and he was quick to hug the girl around the waist again, picking her up and spinning her around once out of pure excitement.

Despite all the worry and sadness that had been looming over her, Y/N felt her heart soar as laughter bubbled up through her chest. Bill always had this affect on her and maybe that's why she tended to come to him when her nightmares got too much to handle.

The nightmares were tough for her, but Bill always knew how to get her mind off of it enough to let go and feel happy. He was the light of her life, so it was really no surprise that after only having met him this summer and a few months of dating each other she was already falling in love with him.

Bill Denbrough could do that to a person—make them fall in love with him with just a simple smile—and Y/N sometimes wondered if he knew he had that type of effect on people.

It wasn't long before the two found themselves sitting on his bed, each of them sitting facing each other with their knees touching. Bill was doing everything in his power to keep the smile on Y/N's face and it was only when he felt himself begin to run out of things to say merely because he was becoming to entranced with the girl that he averted his gaze towards his desk where his sketchbook sat.

"I-I-I want to show you something," Bill suddenly said earning a confused look from the h/c haired girl. Bill only gave her a small smile in return before pulling himself up off the bed and heading over to his desk. He returned to her a moment later with his sketchbook in hand and flipped through the pages as he sat back down on the bed.

"I-I-I was going to give this to you when I was done, but I g-g-guess I can give you a little preview," Bill said, a small nervous smile on his face as he handed the sketchbook over to his girlfriend.

Bill watched in a nervous silence as Y/N gently took the sketchbook from him before allowing her gaze to fall on the drawing. She stilled almost immediately, her eyes flickering over the drawing as they began to widen slightly. Bill couldn't quite read her expression and that only made him more nervous as time went on.

But then she was looking up at him, her eyes still wide before a smile of disbelief appeared on her face and she whispered, "I love you."

It was Bill's turn to freeze at that. The couple had never said those words before. It's not that they didn't feel that way because they did, but neither had ever been the first to utter the words. But now it seemed like Y/N was the first one to have enough courage to say it.

Bill's heart was thumping in his chest so loudly that he could hear it in his ears, his face reddening so much that he could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His smile started out small before it slowly began to grow, his eyes flickering over the girl's face in disbelief.

"I love you too," Bill whispered, still in shock from the fact that Y/N L/N loved him. If this was a dream, he really didn't want to wake up.

Before Y/N could even blink, Bill had grabbed the sketchbook and tossed it aside before tackling the girl back onto the bed. Laughter escaped the girl's lips and she quickly had to quiet herself so that Bill's parents wouldn't wake up. Bill was smiling so wide as he showered her in kisses, the girl's face getting redder by the second as Bill kissed every inch of her face.

"Bill, stop!" Y/N whisper exclaimed between laughs.

Bill paused and propped himself above the girl as he grinned down at her. "What? All I'm doing in showering my girlfriend with my affection," he said before going down and kissing her cheek, making the girl blush more than she already was.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and Bill pulled away to look at her with that goofy grin of his, his eyes sparkling as he stared down at the girl that had stolen his heart.

"I love you," Bill said, making sure to put emphasis on each word so that Y/N knew just how much he meant it.

The grin she gave him almost made him swoon at the sight, his heart beating so fast that he thought he was going to have a heart attack. "I love you too," she whispered, her hand coming up and gently cupping his cheek as she smiled at him.

Bill was quick to duck his head down and capture the girl's lips with his own, propping himself up above her while Y/N's hands slowly went up to his neck so that she could pull him down more. It was a soft and gentle kiss, one that made each of them feel like they were in cloud nine. Kissing Y/N still gave him the same feeling he had got the first time he kissed her and Bill knew that this feeling would never grow old.

Bill pulled away to look down at the girl and he bit his lip before shyly looking down and asking, "C-C-Can we cuddle?"

Y/N let out a small laugh at that and was quick to pull the boy all the way down on the bed with her, an action that made Bill chuckle softly before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his side. He was quick to nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck, pressing a soft kiss there before relaxing against her and letting out a content sigh.

Y/N blushed almost instantly and was silently thankful that Bill couldn't see her face. Wordlessly, the girl brought her hand up and began to run a hand through Bill's hair while he pressed another kiss on her jawline before nuzzling into the crook of her neck even more.

The two laid like this for a while until each of them were barely able to keep their eyes open. It was only then that Bill let out a soft yawn and pressed one more kiss to the girl's cheek as he whispered, "I know this past summer wasn't the best, but I'm still thankful because it gave me you."

Y/N went silent at that, her hand freezing momentarily before she continued to run her hand through the boy's soft hair. This summer may have been terrible, but not all of it was. After all, she had met all the Losers this past summer. She had met Bill.

A soft snore was what pulled the girl out of her thoughts and she glanced down to see that Bill had fallen asleep with his head nuzzled into her neck and his arms tightly wrapped around her waist. Y/N let her eyes flicker over the boy's face for a moment and she smiled softly as she admired the boy.

Gently brushing some hair out of his face, Y/N pressed a small kiss to Bill's forehead before whispering, "I'm thankful too.”

Bill was still fast asleep so he couldn't hear her, but for a moment it was like he could because he smiled a little more and tightened his grip ever so slightly on the girl. Y/N kept her eyes on her boyfriend with a small smile on her face until she too fell asleep holding onto the boy.

That night was the night that she knew that despite everything that went wrong with the summer of 1989, she always would be thankful for it—for that was the summer she met Bill Denbrough and not even It could ruin her love for him.

* * *

Permanent Tag List

@marvelismylifffe @purplelittlepup @amberkay284 @blogforhoes @artlovingbre @the-story-of-the-tucks @thisismythirdblogandihatethat

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

13/ I’m in awe and in love with what you’ve created in this AU and don't quite know how to articulate all of my love for it. Anyways I think that’s the end of my rambles (for now at least). sorry it had to be broken up into so many parts to send through. Take care of yourself and take all the time you need to finish the last chapter and make sure that it makes you happy. Whatever you write is more than worth waiting for. I eagerly await the last chapter whenever it's ready 💖

Okay. So, this is the only ask I think I'm going to answer out of all the ones you sent me because I WANT TO KEEP THE ASKS IN MY INBOX SO I CAN READ IT WHEN I'M FEELING DOWN. That is how much I love everything you wrote to me, and you caught so many parallels that I built into the story that I had no idea if anyone would see, but you did and I'm so happy that you did.

You have no idea what kind of effect this has on a writer. You single-handedly added 3,000 words to the last chapter since I saw your messages yesterday. Knowing I have readers like you who appreciate all the small things I've built into this universe keeps me going.

Now I'm going to answer all the asks individually under this cut, because I'm not going to answer them on my page but you definitely deserve responses to EVERY SINGLE ONE!

1/ I love that you're rereading the later chapters. I'm not going to lie, as much as I loved building their relationship, it's truly the last few chapters that I'm super proud of.

2/ Yes! That's exactly what I was going for - the transition from friends to something more is always tricky because there is a great foundation to build a relationship on, but there's also a risk of losing all of that if you're not sure of the other person's intentions. I'm glad that it came across!

3/ The cafe is kind of where they transformed from being just friends to something so much more. It definitely holds a special place in their heart (it might come back in the last chapter, who knows? me. I know. it's already written. LOL)

4/ THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS. I also really like that line because it shows how separated they have to keep who they are at work vs who they want to be when they're together. It's a fine, delicate line that they toed.

5/ Literally smiling so wide as I read this. It was one of my favorite lines to write but also the most nervewracking if that makes sense? I was truly worried about how I was going to write their first date, because it had to be them but it also had to fall in-line with S7 canon. It's also such a big thing, to finally go all in on a relationship for our king and queen of emotional unavailability. I wanted to make sure the poignancy of them saying "fuck it" and going for what they want was clear.

6/ Good God. I wasn't sure if anyone was ever going to catch that. I'm a huge fan of parallels, if that's not obvious in my writing by now, and that's exactly what I wanted to achieve. He felt like he was getting put back together while she was falling apart.

And you can't be whole together when the other person is broken.

7/ I actually drew inspiration from watching the finale of season 7! I wanted to retain the anxiety you would get from watching time tick by and the scene where Emily is watching the clock intently as she was thinking through the flag colors is what inspired me. I wanted it to read like you were watching the finale.

Also, I just want to thank ACA for its service in keeping all readers on edge in this fandom.

8/ I've been getting a lot of good feedback from the way I wrote the post-breakup and I love writing Emily/Jack scenes. Them dancing at JJ's wedding I think was one of my favorite bits to write because it's just Emily being a Mom to Jack and her not realizing it.

9/ I'm glad that it made you teary - that was kind of the point. They still love each other, so much that they'd celebrate their anniversary even if they're not together, but sometimes, love isn't enough now is it?

10/ Fun fact: Mark's profession isn't mentioned in canon! But I always imagine Emily with someone who really challenges her, so I thought that lawyer would be best. I decided to go with corporate because I'm entirely unfamiliar with how the criminal justice system in the UK works LOL

11/ Hehe yes I am quite proud of myself for thinking of the box HAHA

12/ Home is wherever your heart is, and I don't think her heart was ever in London.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE AND SEND ME 13 INDIVIDUAL ASKS. My week was made by you sending that, and like I said above, this means everything to writers. It means everything to me.

[yesvaldemarharder]

It Hurts Like Hell || Valdemar x Adalia (OC)

-

Ok so one of my many rps made me want to write this. Where Adalia actually knew Valdemar as kids. That’s all I’ll say on that. If you don’t like ocs, bye but in this Adalia is a half angel half human hybrid oc. (Which technically makes her a nephilim so she can be evil as fuck if she allows evil to take over her)

I’ll perhaps post pictures of Adalia that I have drew later but for now here you all go! (Update from inbox coming soon so keep an eye out for those) this is also a bit of a song fic, ok it may be a full song fic but just read it and here me out.

Song: Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie

-

The body laid before her, limp, cold, gone and even though she hated to feeling of such coldness on her fingers she couldn’t help but touch the lifeless body. Her fingers ran up the cool skin, over the bloody chest and up to the cheek feeling the soft skin. She rubbed circles in the young girl’s cheek, her eyes bloodshot and bright with crimson. A twinge of pain sprouted until it hurt so much that Adalia had to close her eyes, gently, carefully..almost as if the girl wasn’t dead but simply asleep. Adalia didn’t wish to wake her.

The room was empty except for her and the dead, the smell of gore filled the air. No one was safe from the plague she could see, not men, women, or children. Not anyone.

Adalia had allowed this to happen, to scared to rely to heavily in her powers and now her she was, with the blood of an innocent on her hands. A human child who once smiled, who once laughed, now presented to her with her belly open to show Adalia the damaged that the plague had done to her small body. To show Adalia right to her face the failures she embraced. Angels were her to help and to keep the weak safe and yet - Adalia turned seeing a boy no older than perhaps nine, she gagged lightly pulling her hand from the girl to cover her own mouth. Angels were here to keep the voices of the unheard heard and yet she had allowed so many people to fall into the hands of the Devil.

Valdemar watched around the corner hidden, what was the angel doing now? Had they finally broken her? They watched as she straightened herself up as best as she could before wiping at her eyes. Valdemar lifted a brow, a demon in the dark who had been haunting this poor being since she got her, a wide smile on their lips as she caressed the boy’s cheek. She rubbed light circles in his cold flesh before leaning done to press a gentle kiss against his temples. His eyes had already been closed thank God but it didn’t seem to make Adalia feel any better.

Valdemar couldn’t understand the point of doing such, they were already gone, already long dead. There was no point of being gentle, kisses wouldn’t bring them back. Valdemar simply found it hilarious, angels worked in clearly different ways then demons did, it was laughable. Valdemar thought to themselves, what was even the point of watching this poor thing anymore. At first it was funny, they had used her; kissed on her flesh and clawed at her skin like they had really wanted her. It was really funny, hilarious to use her but now as they watched her walk around the many bodies they..found that this was just pitiful.

She didn’t look right here, around the dark layers that colored the dungeons walls, around the dark souls that hung around. Adalia was bright even when she didn’t wish to be, even when her scars showed that that she had been in quite a handful of not so bright places. An angel who should have been treated better. Valdemar snapped out of their thoughts when they heard her speak. Her voice light and smooth as she stopped to hold on to the side of one of the vivisection tables, blood running down she warm brown skin and wrist just to drip with a sickening ‘splat’ to the floor followed by ‘plunk, plunk, plunk’. The dripping of blood filled the nearly silent room.

“I’m...sorry I couldn’t help you.” She said, her voice shaky as she stood beside a dead woman who Valdemar had happily informed her was pregnant at her time of arriving at the dungeons. Far too happily. Adalia looked at her belly, bloated and veiny but because of building fluids. Definitely not a baby anymore, the baby had long been gone by this point.

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

In the silent struggle or wanting to walk away and sink to the floor and cry Adalia found her voice again.

“How can I say this..without breaking.” Her hands clutched the side of the table. “How can I..say this without taking over.” She whispered before pulling away. She had on the same thing that the other doctors wore and yet she looked so much different here. An energy that pulsed with love and sorrow reaching far enough to just brush against Valdemar’s senses and their eyes widened in a slight shock. An energy they had never felt before, one that for the first time in their long years of living actually made them pause. They continued to watch her and her hourglass shaped body, how her white heavenly hair bounced with each gentle step she took. Watched as her now bloody hands gently ran arcross the table leaving a streak or sadness behind. “How...can I put it down into words when it’s almost..almost too much for my soul alone?”

A crack in her voice, a crack in her shell, and now her heart was crumbling. Adalia took careful steps as if she was in a nursery singing to sleeping babies. Valdemar couldn’t understand but surprisingly th found themselves trying to. Why...was she so bothered by the natural cycle of life? It was normal for beings to die, that’s why Valdemar didn’t get close to others. Not again.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

And it hurts like hell,

Yeah it hurts like hell.

White hair neck length hair flowing in the wind, a wide smile they could see as she ran. “Come on Val!” Came that sweet voice, and as the young demon followed they looked down to see that beautifully brown hand wrapped around a sickly green wrist. Wings, an angel. Adalia. Valdemar’s eyes widened the widest they’d ever done before. They didn’t like to think about their past, sometimes things were too foggy to remember, too long ago but something struck them there.

They remember her smile and they remembered her skin before it was laced with evidence of greedy hands. Before it was colored with trauma. Her eyes, they were attracted to them the second they found her waiting for Nadia all before herself. They knew those eyes, they knew that smile, they knew this broken angel who had been repeatedly beaten down by this cruel planet.

They remembered her, it was still a bit foggy but enough for them to remember that they once didn’t hate each like they did know. That once a very long time ago they had something that no one else could give either of them. Valdemar wish they could remember the way she laughed, the way she called for them with pure innocence and happiness in her voice. Had Valdemar, affected her more than they knew about. They swiftly went to take a step out of the shadows but she was already looking in their direction.

They froze, eyes on her where she seemed to meet them halfway. Could she see them? Valdemar couldn’t tell but they watched in silence as tears gathered in her eyes. Bright and shiny, silver...angel tears. Valdemar stayed still as she turned her head away wiping at her face with a hand swearing blood from her eye to her cheek which only managed to drip and color her work closed as tears washed the crimson away.

“I don’t want them to know the secret..I don’t want them to know the way I loved you.” She said and Valdemar felt a twisting pain in their chest, somewhere they thought wasn’t active anymore and yet Adalia was making it do such. They unconsciously reached up slowly to clutch their clothes before falling their hand into a fist. Something was beating. ‘Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump’ it went it quick beats, so quick that had they’d been human they would have had a heart attack. What happened? Would Adalia tell them if they asked? Did she even know? “I don’t think the understand it, no.” She continued and they looked back at her quickly as silver and crimson fell from her eyes, dancing down her cheeks leaving shiny streams against her skin. “I don’t think you’d accept me, no.”

-

“Adalia please stop that.” Came their voice, not as smooth as her but not horrid to hear either. They sighed lightly looking down at her. She laid in their lap, her finger lightly poking at their cheek as if she wished to drive them mad. Where were they? Valdemar ran their hand in the grass they sat in together, spiky but not harmful. Adalia pokes at their cheek one last time as they leaned down until their nose pressed together.

“Why should I?” She asked with a challenge and the younger demon scoffed halfheartedly. Their lips about an inch or two away from hers, their own brown locks casting a shadow for them. Adalia’s eyes, bright and naive. Valdemar’s however who had seen death before. An angel and a demon..as friends.

Valdemar got closer, Adalia’s tail flicked in the grass before curling, her wings tucked under her. Her wings that were pure white, powerful just like she herself was. “Because if you don’t, I’ll kiss you.” Valdemar spoke lightly against her lips as their eyes left hers to look down at her lips, smooth and full compared to their slimmer ones that were slightly chapped. Adalia giggled.

A sweet sound.

-

Valdemar shook their head which now started to beat, a rocking noise like a boat getting beaten by the waves of nature. It hurt. Adalia now stood with her back to them, Valdemar looked over her starting with her head full of white hairs which now had strands of purple or black in them to her shoulders that rose and fall and then their eyes were on her upper back. It trembled and they found themselves want to hold her and they attempted to step out of the darkness once more to enter her light but streaks of blood started to bleed through. Her tail was already out, hovering over the ground.

Where has her wings gone?

-

“Adalia!” The young demon shot up when their friend carefully approached. They smiled a little. She had vanished suddenly, Valdemar had grown worried, scared that their fight had drove her away but now she was back with them. Back at the Lazaret with them. They approached her arms open for a hug and then they stopped, feathers trailing behind her. “Ada?” They slowed down now taking the time to get a better look at her. There was no smile but their were tear streaks under her lowered gaze. They was no greeting but soft sniffles. They felt the urgency and quickly went over, and eyes narrowed into slits as they saw her wings. Bloody, cut, falling apart.

An anger suddenly took over Valdemar and they grabbed her wrist pulling her to face them. “Ada! Speak! What happened?” They demanded but even as they yelled at her she stood silent as if she had fell death. Her clothes dirty with blood, sweat, and tears. Someone had hurt their angel.

Dreams fight with machines.

Inside my head like adversaries.

Come wrestle me free,

Clean from the war.

Everything was bloody, Valdemar bathed her and with each flinch and shake they grew darker. They wanted to hurt something or someone..and even though Adalia was the only one with them they refused to let it be her. The river water grew bloody, her skin caked with dirt as she hugged herself. Valdemar tried to be careful with her now damaged wings running the wash cloth up her spine lightly. Then they noticed a collar around her throat and as they reached out without thought to grab it she slapped their hand away. Her sudden quickness shocking them as they quickly pulled away, water splashing heavily around the both of them.

Her eyes yelled at them without her having to physically. Anger, pain, and fear resided there, things that Valdemar had never seen on her face before. Things that hurt a lot more then the slap they had received.

-

The collar was still there. They thought as they looked at Adalia’s back. Why? Why was it still there? Why, why why?! Valdemar actually grew angry seeing it, their hands balling up into fist so hard that their nails couldn’t be stopped by the gloves they wore. Their nails piercing their palm until only black blood dropped from their fist. Now the dead bodies didn’t matter at all, but something about Adalia being surrounded by the dead was starting to bother them. She didn’t fit here, not in the dark, not with them.

Valdemar once held a dead body.

One that looked far too much like Adalia.

Almost identical.

Did they cry that day with that body?

They couldn’t remember.

-

Their eyes sharpened, it made more sense now. Everything made a lot more sense now to them as they approached her almost silently.

“Your heart fits like a key, into a lock on the wall.” She sung some more, and as she sung Valdemar couldn’t focus on anything but her. However the bodies seemed less in pain now, even when dead and after after being tormented in life, in death now they looked at peace. If blankets had been tucked just below their chests except from completely over them or not over them at all anyone would have thought it was just a room of snoozing people. Snoozing people who played with the dead instead of actually being them. “I turn it over, I turn it over...but I can’t escape.”

I turn it over, I turn it over.

Valdemar reached out to her, their fingers flexing lightly and as she sniffled they hesitated.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

I loved and I loved and I lost you.

Adalia jerked when arms wrapped around her shoulders pulling her back from the dead body in front of her, the one she had been crying over. A past lover who could’ve treated her much than he had but he still held value to her. Valdemar scoffed at him as she gently caressed his arm before they pulled her back. Her arm fell limp. “Ada..” they mumbled against her to which she paused before turning her head to look at them.

“Val.”

And it hurts like hell.

-

- Not gonna lie I got lazy at the end but I do hope someone enjoyed that. I once drew a pic of Adalia with Valdemar a while ago but I’ve really touched up on her looks. And before any of the other role play partners comment, yes this is a different version of Adalia.

UwU

If anyone wants more parts to this or for me to actually write about them than fucking comment.

[afterourhearts]

Eyeliner Tears

Why are Asian eyes so ugly? I thought to myself as I outlined their shape with the blackest liner I could dig out from the free Lancôme makeup samples Mom never used. This was my daily routine since I first discovered the beautiful black pencil when I was 12 alongside lip gloss, mascara, and blush. But eyeliner was my favorite – changing most dramatically what I hated most passionately. • Monolids are ugly because they make eyes look like slits. • Double lids are ‘mutant’ because, as my white medical professor once so aptly described, “Epicanthic folds are a prominent feature of Down Syndrome. If you don’t know what they are, Asians commonly have this feature.” Let’s face it: we can’t win, at least not in the beauty arena. But with my eyeliner adding the illusion of a larger eye, I felt halfway there. Not everyone, however, appreciated my foray into adolescent self-transformation. The Chinese beauty culture operates very differently than American beauty culture: pale skin, small mouths, soft bodies, and youthful innocence are prized over glowing tans, wide smiles, athletic frames, and sultry seductiveness. To achieve the Chinese beauty ideal of youthful innocence, heavy makeup such as eyeliner is unacceptable, and makeup at all is frowned upon for younger girls. Mom called them “raccoon eyes” and told me I looked uglier with it on but I never heeded her advice. She also said respectable girls did not waste their time on vanities like makeup, but rather immersed themselves in their studies. She especially hated when I wore makeup to church, a place where teenage girls are supposed to look extra pure. I rolled my raccoon eyes. One year, I met a new girl at our Chinese Christian Church. She was talkative, witty, similarly loved makeup and rebellion, and we became fast friends. This same year, a new youth pastor arrived at our church. He was funny, fluent, and finally our first youth pastor who wasn’t middle-aged. So how do they tie back to eyeliner? Prior to their arrival, I dreaded attending church, paranoid that the judgmental eyes of multitudes of Chinese parents hated my appearance and shared the Chinese cultural views held by my mother. Was it paranoia, or was I just observant? Adults would enthusiastically praise my younger brother’s handsome features and say nothing about my appearance other than, “She is tall!” Their smiles seemed disingenuous and their attitudes towards me distant. Or maybe I was just overly sensitive. Regardless, much of that paranoia melted away with the arrival of a new friend and youth pastor – two characters who seemed more attuned than the other members to the Asian-American dichotomy that was my life. I began to loosen up at church, smile more, and even happily greet the adults. I felt … safe. Maybe not enthusiastically accepted, but also not frowned upon with disdain. One might wonder why I was so concerned for approval from within my Chinese church. When you live in a country spearheaded by people who don’t view you as truly American, you cling onto the safe spaces that still might take you in and consider you a member. I wasn’t aware of how shaky my walls of comfort had been built, though, until one sentence caused them to tumble back down again. “He said he doesn’t like you because you wear so much eyeliner.” She told me. She being my new best friend and he being the cool and young youth pastor we both adored. “How do you know this?” I asked, disbelief and doubt at each other’s throats in the battleground that was now my mind. “Because he told my mom. And my mom told me that it’s not just him who thinks this way, but a lot of other parents. They tell their kids to stay away from you because you are a bad influence.” Bad influence. Me, the introvert who rarely speaks, a bad influence? I let that sink in. That night, I considered giving up my eyeliner. I thought all my fears about being hated by my friends’ parents were unfounded and paranoid. I thought my youth pastor would especially not judge me by something so exterior – actually, why would he judge me at all? Why would a grown ass man concern himself so heavily with whether a teenage girl wears eyeliner? Anger and sadness bubbled up around me. How did one of my greatest fears, one I thought had been pushed away and laid to rest for good, one which only my new friend knew so intimately, suddenly come to surface all over again? And that’s when it hit me: maybe she lied. The seed of thought that this supposed best friend might not actually like me at all was planted. And over the next few months, it thirstily drank up water and sunlight. I befriended other girls and began to uncover bits and pieces of the horrifying truth: she did hate me, and they had evidence. Screen captures and chat conversations were forwarded to my inbox. Not only did she tell others about how terrible I supposedly was, she also told them I disliked all of them and fabricated statements I had never uttered nor so much as thought. I could not believe it – why did she want to destroy my life and capitalize on my insecurities? What did I ever do but consider her my friend? Sometimes, you never get answers. Not too many months after, she moved again. We stumbled across each other’s Instagram accounts a few years later. She had dyed hair, tattoos, piercings all over, eyeliner wings bolder than I had ever applied, false lashes nearly reaching her thickly painted eyebrows, the same deceptively sweet smile as when we first met, and was surrounded by other Asian girls. I once burned with the anger of her betrayal, but all I could think about now was her new embodiment of the criticisms she claimed were the reasons for my rejection from our community and how ironic our appearances were now – me being the studious medical student who sometimes forgets to wear eyeliner and she being the girl who refuses to be seen in public without it - the pictorial epitome of the bad influence she once used to mark me for social abandonment from our only remaining community. Irony, Karma, or Hypocrisy? Today, I won’t know if sprinkled between her lies were grains of truth, and if her comment about my reputation was one of them. I won’t know if my eventual submission to certain Asian cultural values drew its main roots from my teenage experience of potential two-fold community rejection. I won’t know if she ever realized the extent to which she hurt me or if she continues to hurt in similarly sneaky ways our other Asian sisters struggling to find acceptance and self-love in a land which has subjected them to unwarranted rejection. What I do know is this: We All Cry The Same Eyeliner Tears Yes, we do. They trickle down from our unmistakably Asian eyes, glide along our sunscreen laden faces, and leave smudgy black streaks to remind us of both our perceived physical imperfections as well as our efforts to conceal the ugliness we feel inside. 

Feeling ugly is not just some manifestation of low self-esteem as these American schools/media/counselors might tell us in order to erase from our mutual history and from their responsibility the ‘chink’ comments that we heard or the fingers-pulling-eyes-upward-to-mimic-us that we saw.

Our damaged self-esteem is not some personal mental and emotional disorder or a reflection of our weakness but a collective experience caused largely in part by the pervasive belief that some belong here but we don’t and that some are beautiful but we aren’t. Don’t think that just because dating apps are now asserting, “Asian girls are the most desired race!” that the girls who come after us are protected from the less-than we endured. The American dating scene did not just become more “accepting” of us – we changed to look more like them. But underneath the beautifully and extravagantly drawn eyeliner wings, the perfectly filled in eyebrows, the time-consuming application of fake lashes, the hours spent at the gym to avoid ‘Asian flat butt’ stereotypes, and the sharp cut of the surgery knife on our eyelids, we still cannot help but wonder: is this beautiful yet? And when he says, “Yes”, we still worry, was I not beautiful before? Do we really want to be with the ones who only want what is made-to-order, and overlook the ones who saw the original, in all its imperfections, as worth discovering? So while I have every right to be mad at my Asian sister for the hurtful actions she made against me as a result of her wanting to be more accepted by our community than I was, I cannot lose sight of the more formidable barrier to our collective inability to self-love: not the lies she told before, but the lies they still tell today. Why are my Asian eyes so ugly? I used to think to myself constantly. And if you’ve read this until the end, I think you know the answer.

_____________________________________________________________

Comments: Friends who have read this far or read my shared thoughts at all, I know my experiences are not isolated. My past shared posts related to familial pressures and relationships have shown me just how overlapping our experiences can be. The feelings of low self-esteem and self-image at some time or another in your life is probably a universal one. Experiences of betrayal are sadly quite common. Hopefully you enjoyed this short piece - it’s a bit different from the other posts I’ve written (a little more cleaned up and narrative when compared to my usual frenetic ranting) ... anyways, I wanted to share that I’ve been working on putting together some more shorts + poems in my free time (this is how I destress from school haha) and something I hope to achieve through writing with this project (and since day one) is unfiltered and unapologetic storytelling highlighting the Asian voice that is so often completely ignored in discussions of race and discrimination. I’m not saying our experiences are to be equated to the experiences of other minorities because noo, but I am saying we should at least be included in the discussion. 

This brings me to my next point: I want to continue to share your stories too. If you have experiences you want to share related in any way to your identity as an Asian-American female, I want to hear them and with your permission, try to make prose or poetry of it. Text me, message me, or call me and let’s get in touch :) Thank you for being a part of this whether as a reader or direct contributor. Let’s shape our collective voice!!!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Julie: It’s always a delight to see you in our inbox, Lia -- imagine our joy when we saw you’d returned to us in the shape of our favorite sparrow, Omi! It’s been some time since we had her in play, which is a shame, because she’s one of our personal favorites. But you’ve pinned everything about Omi down to a T, from their characteristic skill and allure in trapping others with a few words and sharp gaze, to the way they’re wound around Verona’s fingers and don’t seem to realize... or choose not to. You’ve enthralled us once again, and we cannot wait to have you back on the dashboard and knee-deep in the chaos with Omi in your hands. Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours. 

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Lia.

Age | 22

Pronouns | She/Her/Hers

Activity Level | I’m about to start my summer program, but since I’m only in class three days during next semester on online, I imagine I’ll have plenty of freetime. But knowing me, I’ll most likely log on every few days to knock out a few replies.

Timezone | EST (PST in two months (~:)

How did you find the rp?  | The tag a few centuries ago.

Current/Past RP Accounts | honestly, all of my best characters were in DV :/ All 17 of them

IN CHARACTER

Character | Olivia AKA Yamamoto Omi

What drew you to this character? |

Omi is a character I’ve eyeballed during my time at DV, but someone I’ve never quite had the nerve to apply for. But it is the qualities that I initially shied away from that have inspired me to apply for them this time around. Even upon searching the origin of Omi’s name, I was fascinated by the worldliness and elusiveness it implied about their character.  I came across two definitions, both of which I believe represented her character accurately:

1. OMI— magnificent; the sound of the universe

She is a walking contradiction— the product of love and violence— never truly lacking in either aspect within her lifetime. Maybe that is why she finally found community and comfort within Verona after venturing all over the world. As much as she might hate to admit, this very love and violence is what she’s comfortable with— it’s how she’s learned to thrive and survive. Though they never truly felt like themselves as they ventured around the world, they kept small pieces of each place they visited, all of which have made them into the Sparrow, the performer, that they are today. This is why I began viewing Omi as the sound of the universe. Vast and immeasurable, and not quite able to pinpoint to a single source. She is representative of an assembly of realities. She is never quite the same with each person she encounters, with them only receiving a snapshot or illustration of who she is, with the people she’s closest to receiving the most authentic parts of herself. To be a Sparrow is to participate— in Omi’s opinion— in one of the most precise crafts— an art form that only a select number can master. It is a performance, one in which they give their entirety to, oftentimes to the point that they sense themself slipping away, forgoing what they thought to be their true self and instead opting for the persona they have created. Somehow, being Omi the Sparrow is a far less difficult reality for her to face. What is expected of her is straightforward, her desires and fulfillment never changing very much. Omi the Sparrow always gets what she wants. Their heart is unbreakable, yet shared with everyone they encounter. The power and agency can be detected in her words, her mannerisms— she is completely sure of herself, and what she represents. But Omi— just plain Omi, questions herself constantly. She desires to be seen more than anything but is hesitant to show herself to another person. The weight of the secrets of others sometimes threatens to topple her over. What would their patrons think of their constant doubt? This was something they would never discover because she values her position more than she doubts herself. She loves luxury and security more than she questions who she is and who she’s become. She thrives in this simplistic power far more than she finds herself succumbing to it. And this leads me to what I love most about Omi. Her position allows her to wield a form of power that isn’t flashy or overt, or as obvious and clear cut as many people within the mob. It is subtle and it is dangerous. It is a power you least expect, which will certainly make her someone to look out for within the Verona. It is a power that she does not quite comprehend the magnitude and weight of as of now, but something I hope to develop over time.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

MONA— Their saving grace. There are seldom things Mona could do that would lessen the admiration that Omi holds for her, as this is the woman who they believed to have saved them, to introduce them to the boundless and limitless potential that they had. She did not introduce anything that was not there but instead nurtured the qualities that Omi already possessed for her to become one of the best, if not the best Sparrow that has glided through the various rooms and crannies of The Dark Lady thus far. Omi looks upon Mona as a big sister and is always aiming to please her, whether she recognizes that she’s actively doing so or not. But she is bound to cross her eventually— whether it is slight or monumental, and I believe Omi temporarily or permanently (dear lord idk if I could handle Mona not loving them pls sotkgoerkgose) falling from their grace would be an interesting concept to explore. So much of her existence is tied to Mona’s, and I think that it would take something like that occurring for her to recognize this. Who exactly would she be without Mona rescuing her? Would she have survived a day in the city without her? Having Omi deal with being without Mona would introduce some harsh truths. Could they truly rely on themself? Though she adamantly expresses her desire not to be possessed, is it that she truly enjoys being subjected to the whims of another person, so as long she is given the autonomy, luxury, and ability to wield some form of power? Would she simply be transferred from the hands of one power player to another, seeking out one of the mobs knowing they were the only other people who could give her what she truly desired?

FRIENDS ON THE OTHER SIDE— In the short time that Omi has spent in Verona, she’s acquired quite a few patrons from various walks of Veronesi royalty, but as much as she’s done her best to keep people at a distance, she’s also made a few friends. Chiko— whose hopes and dreams she’s carried with her since childhood— with them being one of the sole people to know Omi to near entirety. Felipe— the man who made her realize that even ghosts were capable of creating trouble for themselves, who she’d dared to offer real information about herself for whatever reason, finding something odd and compelling about the handsome enigma before her. Calina— their true match of wits, words, and worldliness— the person in which she’s entrusted with not just her fears and shortcomings, but her hopes and dreams, as well as them being that very person to set her heart aflutter. All of these people have something in common. In some shape or form, they are familiar with more than just Omi the Sparrow. I wonder what danger this could pose for her in the future. Would it be the person they are in essence that would land her in trouble? Chiko, the ruthless social climber, Felipe, who they knew trouble was always a short distance behind, and Calina, whose ties with the mob could only naturally come with trouble… couldn’t they? I want Omi to eventually land in some more trouble (maybe this could be something intertwined with my first plot, or potentially something entirely unrelated), and truly test how far she’s willing to go for the friendships she hopes to keep. Maybe it has to do with some information told to her in confidence; information she almost feels obligated to share with Mona. Will she refuse to do so, at the risk of the life and livelihood that she’s created for herself?

LOOSE ENDS— The past will always be the past for Omi— unless that past happened to make an appearance in the city of Verona. This isn’t something they would expect to occur, given that they have two dead parents, no siblings, or any known extended family. Maybe this would come in the form of Chiko— maybe some other unknown source would manage to dig up some sort of information to potentially be used against them. Regardless, I want Omi to be confronted with her past life, and for her to realize that the horror will always be apart of her, no matter how long that she’s attempted to evade it.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, but I think I would miss her more than any of my other characters ngl :(

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

tw: mentions of death and violence

In The Dark Lady, Omi transformed into a blossom tinted mirror in which men and women alike looked upon in order to divest the realities they so desired. This functioned the similarity to a rose-tinted glass, their very persona the result of a thousand borrowed realities. In Omi, they sought the best version of themselves. They had the ability to morph into everything their patrons wanted, yet could not own, making them all the more desirable. There was something especially tantalizing about what appeared to be accessible, but ever so slightly out of a person’s reach. Even if the reality of things were that there was no chance in hell. Even if there had been a burgeoning disgust for each and every one of the wealthy, and corrupt person they encountered. Even if she’d been unable to scour away their caress no matter how many showers she subjected herself to in the early hours of the morning. How effortlessly she’d sold them a dream. How effortlessly they’d become enamored with The Dark Lady’s very own Japanese Cherry Blossom, a hand-picked artifact from Sakura to enjoy in their very own Verona. She bartered away a fantasy, and in exchange they fed her in secrets, each whisper only intensifying her power and allure. No amount of repulsion would change that they were damn good at their job. No amount of repulsion would change that she’d finally found where they’d belong.

They were notorious for their collection of extremely high heels, and rumor had it that not even a misstep had occurred in a single pair of them. Eyes danced over her as she glided into the casino, garnering an especially large crowd probably because of the fresh pixie cut she’d been sporting. Some days, Omi would linger, never quite sure whose attention she’d capture that day, but on other days, her presence had been requested by a specific patron. Today’s patron had been of particular importance. A well known Italian bureaucrat she’d actually managed to find rather endearing at times, despite her suspicion that he’d been spending more time with her than his own family. Nevermind that though. They had a sneaking suspicion that they were only moments away from stumbling upon a goldmine of information. They reckoned that this particular information could potentially make not just Mona, but both mobs particularly happy. Soon as they’d reached the Blackjack table, the patron, Patron E, swept her merrily into his arms, spinning her in place, resulting in her delighted laughter, clutching onto his shoulders to maintain her balance. Once he’d gotten his fill, she carefully placed a single kiss on each of his cheeks, taking in the scent of whiskey on his lips. No wonder he’d been especially playful. The whiskey had only begun their job for them. “Why, if it isn’t the most lovely person in all of Verona,” Patron E stated, grinning ear to ear. “I absolutely adored your old hair, bella, but with this cut, you somehow managed to become even more magnificent."

She smiles coyly, hands traveling down the lengths of his arms until meeting his hands, which he brought promptly to his lips for a kiss. "I was feeling spontaneous, E, but knowing you like it lifted a significant weight off my shoulder. Everyone else’s opinion be damned, but yours has always meant the world to me,” they coo in flawless Italian. “Is there anything else you noticed?"

His eyes drank her in hungrily, almost hungrier than usual, before returning to her eye level. "You’re wearing my good luck charm,” he responded with an almost childlike euphoria. Patron E had been referring to the deep V-Neck Dolce & Gabbana gown that had been purchased for her by another Patron of hers— Q— with the jet black of her hair only accentuating the Black sequins of the gown. She took it upon herself to take his hand and lift it above the both of them, completing a graceful, yet playful twirl to show off every sparkle and curve of the length of her body.

“Is that so?” she mused with her head tilted curiously on an axis. “It’s almost as if I wore especially for you, mio callo. You did tell me tonight was a big night for you, after all.”  His eyes twinkled gratefully as he pulled out a seat for her at the blackjack table, settling into the seat next to him, her body positioned perpendicularly to his, taking absolutely no interest in the game before them. It had been a game she’d witnessed by the side of many men before him and would witness many men after him. Her knees were pressed against his thigh, with the leg closest to the table occasionally finding itself absentmindedly caressing his own. One hand consistently remained attached his shoulder, with their other hand assisting them in the delivery of their sweet nothings, cupping his ear to whisper everything he’d ever wished to discover. Together they laughed, flirted, and whispered— he drank and she carefully sipped, until the game finally came to a close, with him losing per usual. After that, the pair of them moved to a more intimate section of The Dark Lady, the place in which Omi would officially make her move for the information she sought. There he sat on the couch, with her comfortably positioned horizontally in his lap, her slender legs coiled around her legs, with her hand absentmindedly stroking his hair. She’d been telling him some story she’d invented ages ago, half-truths tumbling effortlessly from her lips as she illustrated her last days in Sakura. Once she was done, she began studying his features intently.

“See anything you like?” he asks her quietly, and she cups his chin before deciding he’d been worthy of an answer.

“I see something I like, but something different,” she began with faux perplexion. “Even beneath this red light, I can sense the excitement almost vibrating off of you. “It suits you. I wish you were always this happy when you saw me. Far less tense than usual.”

“Now, Omi, you know I feel most like myself when I’m with you. You always receive the best parts of me,” he says seriously as his hand cups her wrist. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve come across some very good fortune. A good fortune that I believe will alter the trajectory of my life. I’ve struck a life-changing deal.”

“That’s amazing! I couldn’t be happier for you!” she exclaims softly, before falling into a demure pout. “This… deal won’t take you away from me now, will it?”

He chuckles at her pout as if him parting from her would truly be the most unfortunate occurrence in her 30 years of life. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, Tesoro. The deal I’ve made has allowed me to acquire a large sum of money. And I have no plans of parting from you anytime soon.”

She smiles gratefully, yet sadly as if she can’t believe it. He looks at her, searching for an answer to her sadness. “What is it, il mio amore? Why do you look so blue?”

At that moment— the slightest pang of sadness sped through her. How effortlessly he had succumbed to her charm, to the point that she’d almost felt bad for the fool. “Well… the way you aren’t giving much information about the deal is only forcing me to draw my own conclusions. Ones in which I can’t help but assume that you’ve been put in a dangerous predicament, which is stopping you from telling because you’re afraid to get me into trouble.” He drew her closely, placing a soft kiss on each of her temples, then her forehead, then her lips.

“I wouldn’t let them harm a hair on your head, Omi. I hope you know that I mean that.” She resisted chuckling. She’d been nearly divinely protected. If anything it was him who wouldn’t be able to harm a hair on her head.

“Is this them you speak of…” she looks around carefully, knowing there was no one near, but doing it as if to accentuate her supposed fear. “The government…?” she offers him, and when he does not react, she places a long, lacquered pinky nail upon her lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with one of the mobs, E—”

“Mixed up with the mobs?” he interrupts with a haughty chuckle. “Why, they’ve gotten themselves mixed up with me, dearest Omi. Sooner rather than later, both the Capulets and the Montagues will be feeding out of the palm of my hand.” How drunk had the man had to have been to have confessed such a silly sentiment? Or was it not the liquor at all, and simply Omi bearing witness to the limitless bounds of the male ego? Probably a mixture of both.

She shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

With each curious caress, they’d managed to extract more and more information from their subject, his ego centering itself above all else— even his desire to live. He had to have known that, hadn’t he? Or had he simply been too foolish to even consider the danger he’d been putting himself in by leaving every detail of his plan upon Omi’s lips? How foolish he had beenShe shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

“Someday…” he slurs, faced resting comfortably on her chest as she stroked the top of his head, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. “I’m gonna whisk you away. And just like that, you’ll be mine. Forever and always.”

Omi chuckles at this sentiment— ones she’s heard nearly a dozen times before. She’d had no desire to be one of his pretty things, not by him or any other person in this world for that matter.

“Why, E— I know if that were to occur, you’d be doomed to break my heart.” “Omi, you can’t truly believe that now… can you?” he says tilting his head upwards until their lips are only mere inches apart.

“I’m afraid I do, mi caro. Because the moment in which the magic begins to dwindle from your eyes when you look at me is the moment my heart is sure to break. I know that if we continue our occasional rendezvous that I’ll continue to be the loveliest I could be in your eyes. Oh— and I’m a terribly loud snorer. You wouldn’t sleep a minute in my presence.”

That had been enough to satisfy him, if only for a single moment. The very thought of him truly breaking her heart had been absurd, but the very thought of the blossom mirror cracking, the idea of her carefully constructed persona being exposed for being exactly that, alarmed her. Anything short of near perfection was unacceptable. She owed her to that and Mona. It would be at that moment that Omi would understand that she was no longer as good at her job as she needed to be. Surely that would not leave them desolate, they would still be a top-performing Sparrow after all. But they would no longer be the best, and no man or woman would ever take that away from them. Even if they meant keeping the majority of the world at a safe distance. Not when they’d finally found their people. Not when they’d finally answered their calling. Not when Verona was finally starting to feel like home.

Little did she know that this would be the last time she’d ever see Patron E. Just as she’d suspected, the information had been of immense value. Her reputation as the top Sparrow only increased tenfold, and she remained in Mona’s good graces, never tiring of her constant praise and doting. Word of his death returned to them from another one of their patrons even before it appeared even in the papers. Omi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for his widow and children. No woman and family should have their livelihood threatened by the likes of a stupid, stupid, stupid man.

She did not wear Q’s dress after that day. When she asked about it the next time he saw her, she began whispering a delightful tale about how her suitcase had mysteriously wound up missing upon returning from a brief trip to Paris, knowing she’d wind up with a new one before the conversation concluded…