#none of this pleasantly loose stuff

[faillen]

need more characters who find being drunk/tipsy to be a uniquely stressful experience unless they don’t have anything that they need to do in the near future

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 03. fortuitous

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS. none. (but the tension thickens increasingly fast)

WC. 1.8K

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous next

fortuitous. (adj) happening by a lucky chance; fortunate.

Luck wasn’t necessarily supposed to come in arrogance and trouble. But it seemed to be the case for you in the span of three consecutive days.

This time, it wasn't in the warmth of a coffee shop or the chaos of a party, but it was a pleasantly quiet stretch of the waves. Where one could note the scent of fishy saltwater hanging in the air, and how only the sound of the occasional cry of a seagull could be heard.

It was a late afternoon, and you had been walking along the docks – thoughts heavy as the gray clouds gathering on the horizon. The docks had always been your special place to think. A spot where the world felt a little less inordinate. Peace. Solitude. Tranquility.

And after many days being alone here at the docks, you didn’t expect anyone to be there before you. At least least not him.

But there he was. Rafe Cameron, sitting on the edge of one of the docks like he had all the time in the world. His legs dangled over the edge, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, and his gaze fixed on the water as if he were waiting for something – or more specifically, someone.

Your first instinct was to turn around (like last time) and leave before he noticed you. But the creak of the dock beneath your feet betrayed you, and his head turned, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you two was thick with tension, unspoken words hovering like a raging storm waiting to break.

Breaking the silence, he spoke first. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery girl,” Rafe remarked, his voice laced with that infuriating note of charm.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Do you plan to appear every part of this town this entire week, or are you just trying to follow me?”

He smirked, flicking ash from his cigarette into the water. “Neither. I'd like to rather think of it as fate.”

“Fate? You think you’re poetic now?”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk widening. “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.”

“Surprise me then,” you challenged, eyes narrowing at him.

Rafe’s expression shifted slightly, the teasing edge softening as he studied you. “Never mind that, what are you doing here?”

Your brow furrowed. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked first,” he said, leaning back on his hands, looking completely at ease.

You hesitated, taking a seat carefully next to him. “I just like coming here time to time. I like having my own time to think about stuff. The bits of silence here eases me.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nodded, as if your answer satisfied him enough.

“What about you?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

He shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Needed some air. Couldn’t stand being around people for a while.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “You? Needing space from people? That’s hard to believe.”

“Don’t act like you know me,” he said, his voice carrying a sudden edge.

“I don’t,” you admitted, tone getting softer. “But you make it pretty easy to assume.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and for a wild moment, you thought you’d pushed too far. But then he let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You said that last time, but fair enough.”

Silence. It started to lightly drizzle, the droplets cold against your body. You shivered but stayed where you were, the thought of walking away feeling strangely wrong.

“So when you said you like to come here and think,” he said, breaking the silence. “I'm guessing that means you like to think about how you think you're better than everyone else.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes beadily staring at him. “Excuse me?”

Rafe smirked, but there was something darker behind it. “You’ve got that look on you. Thinking as if you’re too good for this place, all snotty and haughty.”

You laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “That’s rich coming from you. Having no worries about life, money, and other shit. Looking down at everyone else.”

The smirk faltered, just for a second. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” you pressed, being unable to stop. “Life's easy because you have the money. You have lots of friends. You think the world owes you something just because your daddy’s loaded.”

He stared at you, his jaw tight, and for a moment you thought he was going to fire back. But instead, he let out a short, bitter laugh.

“You think it’s that simple?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost bitter.

You frowned, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

Rafe stood, brushing his hands on his jeans as he turned to face you fully. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you? The spoiled rich kid who’s never had a real problem in his life.”

“Well, am I wrong?” you challenged, though your voice had lost some of its heat.

He shook his head, a forced smile tugging at his lips. “You have no idea.”

For the first time, you noticed the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed to carry more weight than they should. Though it didn’t excuse his behavior (certainly not), it certainly made you pause.

“Then?” you asked, your voice quieter now. “I wanna know. Tell me about it.”

Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the water. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like he didn’t want you to hear.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live up to someone else’s expectations? To know that no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough? And you always have to do something fucking reckless to get someone's attention?”

Your breath caught, the rawness in his voice catching you off guard. You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing, letting the silence stretch between you two.

“Didn’t think so,” he said finally, his tone sharpening again as he turned away.

“Wait,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Rafe paused, glancing back at you.

“I didn’t know.” You hesitated, unsure of what to add. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, the motion almost dismissive. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he let out a long breath and sat back down next to you.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “you act like you’ve got it all together in life, but I don’t buy it. And it’s obvious you don’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Because he wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong at all.

“What’s your point?” you asked instead, your voice was much more defensive than you intended.

Rafe shrugged. “No point. Just saying it takes one to know one.”

Silence fell again, the rain now falling hard, soaking through their clothes.

“I come here to breathe,” you admitted over the long stretch of silence. "Not just to think."

Rafe glanced at you, his expression softer now. “Breathe?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes it just feels like the world’s too loud for me. It expects too much out of me, and I can’t give what it’s asking for. And if I don’t get away once in a while, it’s going to swallow me as a whole.”

For the first time, he didn’t have a quick reply. Instead, he nodded, as if he understood exactly what you meant.

“I get that,” he said finally.

You turned to look at him, your curiosity growing. “You do?”

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. I do.”

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“To be honest, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

“Maybe,” he said, his tone lighter now, “you’re starting to like me.”

You laughed, the sound genuine despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck.”

He smirked but didn’t press, and you two sat there in companionable silence. The sounds of the drizzling rain washing away some of the tension between you two.

The wind started to pick up even more. You glanced at the clouds, then back at Rafe. “You should probably head inside now. It’s going to pour soon.”

He smiled, a lazy, lopsided grin that sent an unwelcome warmth through your chest. “Is mystery girl seriously getting worried about me?”

“Not even a little,” you uttered, though the corner of your mouth betrayed a slight twitch of amusement.

Silence fell over again, the kind that wasn’t quite comfortable but wasn’t entirely hostile either. It was strange, being here with him like this. It’d been only three consecutive days where you had short conversations with him, yet now you were here having a conversation you could barely get out to anyone.

The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance, and you glanced at the sky again. “Seriously, you should go.”

“And leave you out here alone?” he asked, feigning mock concern. “What kind of gentleman would I be?”

“You? A gentleman?” you scoffed. “That’s a wild stretch.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m working on it.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you stayed silent, letting the silence stretch once again. This was okay. Silence and peace.

Rain started heavily pouring, the droplets cold against your clothes. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“You’re really going to stay out here?” Rafe asked, standing and flicking the stub of his cigarette into the water.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

He shook his head, pulling off his jacket and holding it out to you.

“I don’t need it,” you said, your pride flaring (but failing).

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, you accepted the jacket, the fabric warm and surprisingly soft. “Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Without a reply, he gave you a curt nod.

For a moment, you two were just there - under the rain, the tension between them shifting into something quieter, something neither of them could name.

“You know,” you started off, carefully standing up. “My house is nearby, you can dry off until the storm subsides.”

Rafe glanced down at your face with a teasing grin. “Inviting me to your house already? I don’t even know your name, mystery girl.”

With a quiet mumble you answered. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N. Well now I won’t have to call you mystery girl,” he chuckled.

Rolling your eyes, you asked in a more casual tone. “You coming?”

Rafe nodded with a smirk, following you.

As you two walked (quite quickly), your steps were falling into an unspoken rhythm. You realized something strange.

For the first time, being around Rafe didn’t feel like a battle. It felt like something else entirely.

And that terrified you.

NOTES. we finally get to see some rafeyn development 😊😊😊😊 THANKYOU for all the love and support omg. it hasn't even been a week and i've been already getting so many love for this series :') so excited to write the most false hope giving chapters ever..!

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[jamiesfootball]

1, 4, and/or 22!

the last sentence you wrote

"I wouldn't call 999 if he were on fire."

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

I've got a loose outline of a fic where mid-season 2 after making some progress reintegrating with the team, Jamie finds out about Rebecca sabotaging Richmond in season 1. He... doesn't feel great about it. Looking for a soundboard, and unsure if the team actually knows, he turns to a few people who he think might be able to help him maths his way through it, three of the kindest and most advice-iest people he knows: Keeley, Ted, and Higgins.

All of whom turn out to already know about it and who give the overwhelming impression that they are in Rebecca's corner: she was going through a rough patch, I assure you it's not an issue anymore, we're all a team here, etc etc.

None of them putting together any of the consequences that had for Jamie.

So Jamie gets it in his head that alright, this is just another lesson of learning to put others first and be less selfish about stuff. Shouldn't have been trying to make Ms. Welton's issues about him anyways.

'Cept a year or so later, he has a meltdown in the bootroom, and while he's trying to explain things to Roy he mentions offhand about 'that time when Ms Welton was trying to sabotage the club'-

And that's how Roy finds out.

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

You know that post that's like 'and then I reread my work email to make sure I didn't accidentally make a typo and call my boss a motherfucker'? Everything I post comes with a dose of that, plus a normal writer's amount of 'oh someone's going to hate this. ' But the only way out is through the trust-fall, baby! The more you trust-fall into letting people read your stuff, the more you can be pleasantly surprised by how wonderful it is to share things.

[revserrayyu]

Thoughts regarding the ending of Penacony’s 2.0 story

Starting off with a heartbreaking scene so if you haven’t encountered any sadness yet during your playthrough, time to look away because spoilers ahead:

Now then, starting off with that scene, I can’t say I was too surprised to see it happen. Not only did I catch a clip of Firefly’s unfortunate end before I personally made it to the cutscene myself, but red death flags were already sprouting up everywhere before the update even released and trailers mentioned how Penacony would be a “heartwarming and uplifting story” and that we’ll be having a “fun vacation.” Ha, lies! Knowing that this death was coming didn’t make the scene any easier to watch of course. This poor girl. I really want to hope she’s okay since this happened during a dream and no actual body was left behind, but aahh. (disappear among a sea of my own tears)

With the way Black Swan & Acheron were chatting afterwards along with Trailblazer’s completely heartbroken reaction however, it makes the loss seem even more believable. Seeing Black Swan try and comfort us was something that I’d expect from her character, but from Acheron? I was pleasantly surprised. I know next to nothing about her HI3 & Genshin lookalikes or how they act, so based solely on appearances I thought Acheron was going to be the quiet and reserved type. While she does seem reasonable chill at times, learning about how poor she is with her directions and memory was fun and seeing her comfort us after this moment was really sweet of her, even to go so far as telling us it’s okay if we’re mad at her for not acting quick enough to stop the attack and how she paid tribute to Firefly in the real brief cutscene (^cover photo. also, she’s so pretty)

Seeing the selfie left behind afterwards is just another critical hit on all our hearts, especially with Robin’s song playing softly in the background once more. (we ain’t smiling anymore now are we??)

I don’t remember too many details about the hotel journey we go on afterwards aside from seeing those echos of Firefly (I forget what they were called, but it reminded me of the Cocolia & Bronya we saw on our way up to Everwinter Hill for the first time) but hearing that Firefly was speaking to someone else while wandering through the dream was suspicious, especially with the mention of “Mecha.” Speaking of which, I didn’t expect us to fight Sam so soon. He was a bit of a pain but thankfully none of my team fell. Also gotta admit his theme was good. (bro I’m already heartbroken, what more do you want from me?)

I am kinda bummed that we don’t know the outcome of the fight between Sam & Acheron. The short cutscene we got of it was pretty nice, so it was bittersweet that Black Swan saved from that. Didn’t get a moment to relax though because we encounter this shady man right after.. (darn him for being so handsome)

The difference between the Aventurine we saw letting loose during the “White Night” trailer and the conniving fruit loop we have the pleasure of chatting with in game is insane and I love it. As if I wasn’t already wary of this man, now he’s getting different colored text! First Acheron with red, now him with yellow. Sure the color choice itself doesn’t seem that threatening, especially since it’s the same whenever we see Kafka’s spirit whisper, but there’s gotta be some meaning behind the colors and I’m irked we didn’t get a clear answer for it during this part of the story, but that’s just something else to look forward to with upcoming versions. Also, what he’s hinting at, with Acheron being the cause of all this? Bro I don’t wanna believe that! I really like her! (and if he knows then why is he letting things happen like this??)

The Acheron stuff is hard for me to believe at the moment, but the news about Duke Inferno and his followers? That’s a bit easier on my mind. I’m not the biggest fan of the Ever Flame Mansion, as we don’t know too much about them and haven’t officially met them yet, but hearing that Duke actually died offscreen before we even got the chance? Wow. (oops)

Black Swan, honey, I’m not sure who to trust anymore okay? I came here for a fun time and I’ll I’m getting is creepy vibes and tears. We should really stay away from hotels. People are always trying to hurt us; first Belobog, now Penacony. But again with the colored text! If yellow means truth, does that mean Acheron’s red were all lies? Or are they trying to trick us and it’s the other way around? Or perhaps their meanings are something complete different. Regardless, the colors are giving me anxiety. I do love how something so simple as a change in color can grab our attention so effectively though. (they're both lucky they're attractive)

And the danger keeps on coming because we got not one, not two, but three deaths! This time of the lovely Robin. (what managed to hurt her like that I wonder? “Death” again?)

I think one of the worst things about this scene is that Aventurine presents us this sight so proudly, saying that there’s no way for us to deny his offer, less we want this to happen to us as well. He’s just so calm about the entire situation and makes me want to slap his pretty face. (someone warn Ratio to stay out of his bathtub)

The other horrible thing about that scene is that it ends! The game smacks us with a “To be continued” and all we’re left with are many concerns and questions! Fortunately (or unfortunately), we get another quick scene soon after with Sunday and.. Robin. Of course the ??? was a bit strange to see, considering we did meet her previously, but given what we just witnessed, it’s odd nonetheless. For a moment, I believed that maybe this was the real Robin, since her voice didn’t sound distorted and broken like it was before, or perhaps Robin was just her artist name and we don’t know her real name. (“again” huh? how common is death here?)

As it turns out, I’m just stupid and didn’t even think for it to be Sparkle impersonating the singer until Sunday mentioned the fool herself. If I ever crossed paths with her, she’d end me effortlessly. (“chicken wing boy” is a brilliant name)

With how popular Robin is, it’s gotta be tough for Sunday to walk anywhere in Penacony now without seeing her face or hearing her music. This man might go insane. (we don’t need the reminder that she’s “gone,” thank you)

At least she’s willing to help keep up Robin’s appearance so there’s not a massive panic before the festival? She sounds a bit too happy though. I can’t tell what she’s up to but she seems to enjoy all the chaos. (I do agree; his pierced wing looks great)

Sunday stays relatively calm throughout the conversation, but there are moments when you can hear how frustrated he’s becoming, along with that last laugh of his, and honestly it’s getting me kinda worried. I feel like he’s got some crazy plan to set things right, like Cocolia level crazy. (do explain how a funeral is “good news” sir)

And that’s where we truly end for now. Let the waiting game begin. In the meantime, someone let Hoyo know that they managed to break many hearts. (the song really is beautiful though)

All that’s left are the several little missions and the new Black Swan/Sparkle companion quest that I have to get through.

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood can't prevent himself from swooning even at a quick smooch from Vash; he leans forward too hard and catches himself before falling to the floor. Still blushing, he waves the blond off with a 'yeah, yeah...' gesture and begins to formulate the best way to... present... his second gift. One hour. Vash is out the door. He has a single, tenuous hour.

Once he's certain that Vash is far enough to be gone for good, Wolfwood briskly carries himself to another bag decorated in hot pink ribbons and a brand logo that he'd hidden behind the rest of his stuff. He retrieves something black and lacy, then throws an oversized red ribbon onto the bed. Taking a deep breath, Wolfwood can't help but let out a depleted sigh.

"This is so fucking stupid."

And yet, he carries on.

————

Okay, Wolfwood has to admit—the lingerie is honestly doing work for him. The sheer corset top with intricate swirls of leaf-like patterns hugs the hourglass form of his chest to his waist, accentuating and exaggerating it. He had no idea that he has this extreme of a curve until putting this on. Loose ribbon is the only tie that binds his pectorals together by his sternum, and it is hardly trying to maintain his modesty (and his dignity, it feels like).

Not that the sheer fabric leaves much to the imagination.

Black, silken straps bind the fragile top to equally lacy panties that feel pleasantly smooth against his skin. Again, while the webbed, leafy pattern covers his nether regions (at least in the front), the shape remains and, again, does not leave much to the imagination. Even just the thought of Vash finding him like this stretches the pocket of the underwear just that much further. It was a little tight when he put it on, but it's not too small—he's just that... big.

Around back, the lace provides coverage underneath his tailbone before disappearing as a thong would. If all that wasn't enough, thin black straps run down the front of his thighs and connect two garters to each leg. It feels similar to a holster, but he is far more vulnerable like this.

... Especially when he kneels on the bed, facing the door, and ties the oversized red ribbon around both wrists, effectively binding them. He can break out of this easily, which is the only reason he's doing it, but he trusts Vash not to harm him in any way he doesn't want to be harmed. Somehow, Wolfwood manages to tie the ribbon into a cute bow, like a present. He makes sure to leave his dick resting above his thighs, just in case Vash wants easy access.

It's almost been an hour, and Vash should be back any moment now. Hopefully he doesn't just turn around and walk back out the door—Wolfwood continues to think of everything that could go wrong and prays none of it actually happens.

Wolfwood doubts that Vash bothers celebrating Christmas, and he can't blame him. He doesn't really either, he just does the gift-giving part. Usually the people celebrating the holiday worship the two Angels, and while Wolfwood will gladly get on his knees for Vash, he'd rather not think of him as some holy deity, thanks. Angelic, yes. An actual angel? Well, he'd expressed discomfort with the idea in the past, so an angel Vash is not. Finding a gift for someone who doesn't ask for anything other than a box of donuts from time to time is harder than it seems. How's he supposed to pick out a gift that fits perfectly between the 'casual' and 'you may as well propose to the guy' categories? He hasn't even had the courage to tell Vash how he feels about him yet either, so maybe this would be a good opportunity to. Maybe. Hopefully. It'd also be a good time to give Vash a different kind of present, but that's neither here nor there. Trinkets of any decent quality are rare finds on Noman's. Rarer still are the ones without any kind of religious inspiration. Eventually Wolfwood finds an eclectic collector's shop with myriad baubles. Immediately, what catches his eye is a whiskey flask with the words "Holy Water" printed on it, so he of course needs to pick that up as a little gift to himself. It'll probably ignite one of Vash's contagious laughs—a brilliant light in an endless dark void. What in the world is worthy of being given to Vash the Stampede? He grumbles over this for some time before the owner of the shop takes pity on him and approaches, concerned. Immediately, she picks him out as a 'boyfriend getting his partner something for their first Christmas' type. As embarrassing as it is, Wolfwood relents, which leads to the present moment, when Vash convenes with him at their hotel room: "I know you… probably don't care about Christmas—I don't really either—but I wanted to get you something," he begins, nervous as all getup. Wolfwood pulls a gift bag from behind his back, then offers it to the blond. "I like to do stuff for the kids, you know? But this time I had to give a gift to you as well. You're pretty hard to shop for, has anyone ever told you that? Jeez…" Inside the sparkly red bag is an instant-print camera and a brand-new journal—oversized, presumably, to fit photos into. "I know you got a photographic memory, but… thought it might be nice to, uh, keep some, I guess. You know, in case you go forgetting stuff again. And also for the sake of those of us who don't have the ability to remember what they had for dinner 75 years ago. Might be nice, is all." He turns away to avoid watching Vash's gaze, but remembers that he's absolutely guilty of wanting to see the way those blue, glassy eyes glimmer with excitement, so he braves the fear and meets them head-on, determined. "I… have another gift for you but I still… need to wrap it. Go get us some hooch or something and come back in an hour." @forgivenpunishment

Well now! Didn't that put his little gift idea to shame?

In a funny way, of course-- Vash didn't actually think of it like that. It was just kind of a funny coincidence that Wolfwood had also gone out to find him something for the whole holiday thing, and apparently had a difficult time of it. Which was fair; he'd been told quite a few times that he was hard to get gifts for in the past. Partly because he didn't really ask for or openly want anything, and party because he was happy with anything people were willing to give him, which apparently just made that even more difficult? But even just thinking about him was more than enough--

This, though, this gift was... not only very sweet, but extremely thoughtful. Both of which had seemingly caught the Plant a bit off-guard as he looked into the bag.

"This is..." even just those two words, ushered out with the tail end of an exhale and barely audible, sounded completely awed by what Wolfwood had found. Vash lifted his gaze from the contents of the bag; summer sky blues positively sparkling with adoration as they caught the light at that angle.

Then Wolfwood mentioned having another gift, and that sent dark brows shooting straight up.

"Something else...? Y-you didn't have to-- I mean, this is more than-- I--" the poor thing blustered, flushed and a bit all over the place (and a little confused: he needed another hour to wrap something else when this had been put in a bag?) now that the situation called for his brain to be put to use. Eventually he caught himself, and just... nodded. Smiled and nodded. Beamed and nodded, really-- "y-yeah, okay. An hour. You got it~."

He did still have to set the gift down for safekeeping (no way was he risking bringing this outside yet!) and grab the rest of his cash before he set off as requested... buuut not before stealing a quick kiss from the undertaker; catching his upper lip in something sweet and warm and, again, quick--

"Thank you. Seriously, this is... really amazing, Wolfwood." he said. Decent as he usually was at withholding his lovesick glances until Wolfwood's back was sufficiently turned, the blond just couldn't help himself this time. His moony gaze drifted slowly from his boyfriend's light blue eyes down to his mouth, then back up again before he finally pulled away to get himself sorted and headed out the door.

The Plant was reluctant to part, but Wolfwood had specifically asked, after all.

"Be back later, yeah?"

[mrstepford]

Sunday Best: The Tomboy

 Growing up, Harper was always the rebellious one in her family. She was a tomboy who loved playing sports, listening to rock music, and wearing baggy clothes. But her mother, Abigail, had recently started going to church and had even begun wearing dresses on Sundays

 Harper was apprehensive about this sudden change in her mother's behavior and couldn't understand why she was so interested in religion. Abigail tried to explain her newfound faith to her daughter, but Harper would have none of it.

 One Sunday before church, Abigail invited her church friends, Jack and Amber, over to talk to Harper about religion. Harper rolled her eyes as the couple began to explain the importance of faith and attending church.

"You're wasting your time," Harper said dismissively. "I don't believe in any of that stuff." Jack and Amber patiently listened to Harper's arguments and tried to reason with her. But Harper refused to budge, insisting that she didn't need religion in her life.

As the discussion grew more heated, Harper suddenly felt a strange sensation in her body. She looked down and saw that her clothes had transformed into a church outfit. The dress was knee-length with a white base and a delicate floral pattern in blue. The fabric was light and airy, a stark contrast to her usual baggy jeans and T-shirt. The sleeves were capped, and the neckline was modest, a reflection of the church's values. Her hair had also been transformed, with her messy hair now replaced with loose curls that cascaded down her back in gentle waves. The strands were silky smooth and perfectly styled, with a hint of volume at the roots. She couldn't help but run her fingers through it, admiring the way the curls bounced and swayed with her movements. As for her makeup, it had been subtly enhanced to bring out her natural beauty. Her eyes were framed with a thin layer of eyeliner and a coat of mascara that made her lashes look longer and fuller. Her lips were painted in a soft shade of pink, adding a touch of femininity to her look. Harper's outfit was completed with a pair of white heels that added a few inches to her height. The shoes had a simple design, with a closed toe and a small heel that made her legs look longer and more elegant. To top it all off, Harper wore a delicate silver necklace with a small cross pendant.

Harper was stunned and looked up at Jack and Amber, who were pleasantly surprised by the sudden transformation. "Wha... what just happened?" Harper stammered, feeling disoriented. "It looks like you've had a change of heart," Amber said with a smile. Harper looked down at her outfit again, feeling uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothing. But as she walked around the room, she began to feel a strange sense of calm and peace. "You know, maybe I'll come to church with you guys," Harper said hesitantly, surprising even herself.

Jack and Amber exchanged a knowing glance, pleased that their message had gotten through to Harper. Abigail hugged her daughter, overjoyed that Harper was finally starting to open her heart to faith.

As Harper walked out of the door with her mother and their church friends, she couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and calm wash over her. She felt a newfound sense of curiosity about religion and the role it could play in her life. She knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but for the first time, she was willing to give it a chance.

[laviethepooh]

your protective big sister | beidou + sibling!reader

summary. beidou as your protective older sister | headcanons + drabble

ft. beidou + sibling!reader

cw. none

wc. 0.6k

notes. i’m trying to build my beidou as a sub-dps/burst support so she was one of the first characters to come into mind for the new genshin family + reader thing. if you think that this is beidou x reader, it’s not, it’s beidou + reader (which i understand looks similar but it’s platonic/family)

beidou’s a super chill sister and likes to joke around and include you in everything

however she’s very protective and doesn’t let anyone lay a finger on you

although she relaxes and acts like herself around you, she still keeps up a tough and strong demeanor and tries to look reliable

she doesn’t come home often, but she never forgets to get a gift for you

usually it’s a trinket that she found or bought on her adventures

sometimes she comes with a new recipe or a piece of jewelry

“you gotta try out this recipe i got from ritou! you’ll love it!”

she always makes sure you ate or have enough to eat (a result of not having enough to eat when you were younger)

“y/n, did ya have breakfast yet? hey, come with me and the crew! i’ll treat ya to something good!”

she and you both love xiangling’s cooking, so whenever beidou’s back in liyue, you almost always eat out at wanmin restaurant

beidou swears like a sailor [ hahaha ] but whenever you’re around she tries to hold back. once you’re until “old enough” she lets loose

but sometimes you have to take care of her too like holding her back to avoid fights with people (kind of difficult because we know beidou’s buff as hell)

“come on! y/n, let me at ‘em! i swear i heard ‘em talk smack about you!”

as for the crew of the crux, they’re also super sweet to you and treat you as if you’re a part of their pirate family (but beidou’s always watching just in case)

kazuha thinks it’s funny how you somewhat resemble your sister, but at the same time you’re so different from her

“what’re you two talkin’ about? he’s not saying weird sh- stuff to you is he? i might like this kid but i won’t hesitate to take action if i need to.”

ningguang thinks you’re cute, she adores you so much that sometimes beidou thinks ningguang likes you more than her

i want to think that ningguang kind of spoils you really subtly like every now and then she gives you a small gift like fabric or something

“hey hey, y/n, you can’t just take the tianquan from me like that!”

“there’s enough of me for the both of you.”

on the sibling scale, she’s a solid 9/10

“y/n! ah it’s been so long, how about i treat you to something, eh?” beidou waved to you as she walked down from her ship.

“wanmin restaurant?” you suggested, already knowing the response that would follow.

beidou laughed as she slung an arm around your shoulders, leaning in for a half-hug. “nothing but the best! we’d better get going though, we don’t want to be late to xiangling’s cooking!”

as the two of you walked from the docks to chihu rock, you started to make some conversation with your older sister about her latest adventures. she had sent you a letter a week earlier detailing her adventures of looking for treasure on some smaller islands on the coast of tsurumi island. the fog had apparently been too thick to venture to the main island. but now she was excitedly telling you about what she had found.

“lots of mora, of course, and some crystals. there were also those electro sigils which my men and i traded off a portion of. that reminds me, i got a little something for ya!”

you looked up at her in expectation. “what is it?”

beidou chuckled as she fished through her pockets, “i’m sure you’ll love it. let’s see… here we go! first of all, i got you some of these sakura shrimp crackers.”

you took them from her hand and opened up the cloth wrapping they were in. you expected a fishy scent, but you were surprised that it pleasantly smelled like sakura flowers. the bright pink color reminded you of those sakura blooms that beidou sent to you once.

“then i got you a recipe for dango milk and fluorescent fungus. pretty cool right?”

you grabbed the rest of the goods and smiled up at her. beidou had told you great things about dango milk and you had been awaiting the recipe to try it out for yourself. as for the fluorescent fungus, maybe they’d make for some good decor? you weren’t sure, but you put it away.

as you neared wanmin restaurant, you could already smell the delicious food. before beidou’s ship docked, you had already run over to check to see if xiangling was there and you asked if she’d stay a bit overtime since beidou would be eating. xiangling, being as excited as ever, agreed and said she’d start working on her special as well as some of beidou’s favorites.

“captain beidou,” xiangling called out, waving enthusiastically, “have a seat! i heard you were coming home so i prepared some dishes for you, enjoy!”

you and beidou took a seat next to each other as xiangling pushed out dish after dish in front of you. beidou was definitely happy and savored each bite as she told stories to you and xiangling. they weren’t exactly like the exaggerated tales that were shared around liyue, but they were still compelling nonetheless. every now and then, she would ask if you were eating and you’d have to take a bite of xiangling’s delicious cooking to convince her that you were.

but (somehow) you eventually finished all of it and thanked xiangling before heading off to take a light stroll around liyue. you caught your sister up on the latest news and greeted some people since it had been a while. the day ended with some dinner with the crew and kazuha, and then you and beidou went home.

“hey, we should hang out like this more often!”

[drabbles-mc]

Reunited

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Juice x female reader where he comes home from hospital after the prison incident (where she visited him almost in hysterics and pleasantly surprised him by how much she cared) and he comes into the clubhouse to see her wearing one of his shirts and some shorts - and it's so oversized, it's adorable (because he is buff and mmm) and she get's all flustered, because she missed him, and a whole panicked confession happens, ending in smoochies, and the sons walk in like "FINALLY"

Warnings: language, mentions of hospitals, brief mentions of injuries

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: It’s been a minute since I’ve written for my fave SOA Boy. We love some soft love for Juan Carlos. Hope you enjoy! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​​ @masterlistforimagines​​ @adela-topaz-caelon​​ @mijop​​ @chibsytelford​​ @xladymacbethx​​ @i-just-read-stuff​​ @kkim120​​ @multiyfandomgirl40​​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​​ @toni9​​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​​ @mayans-sauce​​ @shadow-of-wonder​​ @punkgoddess-98​​ @paintballkid711​​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​ (If you want to be added just let me know!)

The club had been running out of favors to call in, but despite that they still managed to get you in to visit Juice while he was recovering from getting stabbed while he was in prison. You burst into his room, tears in your eyes as you looked at him laid up in a hospital gown, one hand cuffed to the side of the bed.

He hadn’t been expecting you—the guys hadn’t been able to tell him that you were coming to visit. So to say that he was surprised to see you appear in his room was a bit of an understatement. Part of him thought that maybe the drugs they gave him were stronger than he originally thought, but then he felt your hands cupping his face as you fought the urge to hug him, not wanting to make his injuries worse.

You’d rested your forehead against his and taken a deep breath, eyes closed, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The intimacy of the gesture caught him off-guard, but he soaked it up nonetheless. His free hand came up and gently wrapped around your upper-arm, fingers cold against your skin. You finally pulled yourself away from him and took a deep breath, looking him over once again as if to make sure he was really there in one piece.

“How’d you get in here?” he looked over to the door like he was expecting someone to burst in and pull you away.

“The guys got me in here. I didn’t ask how,” you laughed, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face.

You’d been lucky enough to get a few minutes with him, enough to reassure you that he was going to make it home at some point. But once you left the hospital room, worry immediately flooded back into your mind. It was going to feel like an eternity before he was actually back home again. You kept yourself busy at the clubhouse, fighting the urge to ask the few guys who were still on the outside how everyone was doing, how Juice was doing. But the urge to do so was constant.

A few times, when you stayed late and maybe had a drink or two too many, the guys would tell you to just crash in Juice’s dorm since it wasn’t like he was getting much use out of it at the time. You fought them on it at first, but they eventually wore you down. Truthfully, you had no objection to staying there, but you were afraid that if you gave in too easily that it would make it obvious that you had feelings for him. The guys had put that together already, but they were kind enough to not give you grief about it while Juice was laid up in a hospital somewhere.

Waking up one morning, you realized that you’d gone through all of the spare clothes that you had kept in your car. You twisted the blanket in your hands for a few moments as you contemplated what you were thinking of doing. Surely Juice wouldn’t care if you borrowed one of his t-shirts, right? He wouldn’t even have to know about it—you could wash it and return it before he even knew it was gone.

You dug around to the bottom of the dresser drawer, hoping that if it was one from the bottom that would mean it was one that he wouldn’t mind you wearing it. Pulling it down over your head, you smiled to yourself at the way it almost completely covered your shorts. You tied the bottom hem of it into a loose knot before getting ready to take on the day.

You were too lost in the music playing in your headphones as you cleaned up the clubhouse to really notice anything happening around you. It’d been quiet all morning—most mornings were anyway but especially with everything going on lately the clubhouse had been more dead than usual. You were clearing away empty bottles and wiping down the surface of the bar when you suddenly felt a pair of eyes on you.

Pulling your headphones out, you looked up to see who it was. You gasped as you dropped the bottles that you had been collecting, sending them toppling to the floor as you bounded across the clubhouse to Juice. He dropped his bag on the ground to be able to brace himself for the hug that was coming his way. You tried to slow down in order to not body-slam him, and you were partially successful. You threw your arms around his neck as you hugged him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms draped around your waist and he hugged you gently, trying not to wince too much from the impact of your body against his. It was a relief to feel you against him, but he was still in pain.

“I was starting to think that you were never coming home,” you mumbled against his neck.

He chuckled, hand running up and down your back, “That why you’re wearing my stuff? Thought I’d never come back to collect?”

“No,” you pulled back, letting out a nervous laugh, “God, no that’s not it at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “Glad someone got use out of it while I was laid up,” he paused, “Looks good on you.”

You felt the heat rushing to your face and you tried to cover up the nerves by talking, “I wasn’t gonna steal it, I swear. And I’ll, I’ll wash it before I bring it back. I just ran out of spare clothes to wear and I had crashed in your dorm last night and needed something to wear. Plus, I mean in my defense, I’ve missed you and been freaking the fuck out about you and if you’re alright and the guys wouldn’t tell me anything which was killing me because I love you and I just—”

He didn’t let you get another word out, and he was honestly impressed that you had said so much in what seemed like one breath. He pulled you in by your waist and crashed his lips into yours. It took you a second to realize what was happening, and that it wasn’t some sort of nerve-induced fever dream. Once you did, though, you reached up and cupped both sides of his face in your hands, moving your lips hungrily against his.

The two of you were wrapped up in the moment when the door to the clubhouse swung open, and as the guys walked in they all started laughing and clapping.

“’Bout fuckin’ time,” Chibs laughed.

“Welcome home, Juicey,” Tig chuckled as he leaned on to Chibs to support him through his laughter.

The two of you pulled apart and your face felt like it was on fire. There was a small smirk playing at Juice’s lips as he shook his head. He turned and looked at the guys who were making their way over to him, each of them pulling him into rough hugs and clapping him on the shoulder even though that was probably the last thing he needed after being released from the hospital.

“We were comin’ in to welcome you home, but looks like someone beat us to it,” Chibs laughed as he shook his head, “We’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

You wanted to melt into the floor but surprisingly enough none of the guys said anything more about it as they dispersed throughout the clubhouse, leaving just you and Juice standing in front of each other.

You offered up a small smile as you leaned down to lift his bag off the floor, “This going back to your dorm?”

He nodded, smiling, “Yea, yea thank you,” he trailed behind you as you both made your way towards the back hall where their rooms all were, “Gonna try and steal more stuff before I realize it’s gone?”

You laughed, turning around to face him, “If I was ever going to get away with it, now would be the time—when you’re not at a hundred percent.”

He chuckled, “That’s cold.”

The two of you walked into his dorm and he looked around, smiling when he noticed that things were a little different. It was all still clean, but he knew that you must’ve stayed there at some point while he was inside. He watched you as you set the bag down on the edge of his bed, saw the rise and fall of your shoulders as you took a deep breath before turning back to him.

Once you were facing him again, he walked up to you and gently rested his hand against your cheek and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was far softer than the one that had happened a few minutes before.

“I love you too, by the way,” the grin was etched permanently into his features.

You smiled, kissing him again, “That’s good to know,” you rested your hands behind his neck, “because now you’re definitely not getting this shirt back,” you laughed as he pulled you tight and kissed you again.

[glowinggator]

Happy Valentines Day!

Request: Hey since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, think we can have a Rottmnt special? Like crush made them homemade chocolate and shyly gives it to them? ✨✨ pretty please! 🙏

Pairing: All, Non-Poly. (Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, & April O’Neil.) 

Content Warnings: None! Except for swearing?? I don’t know if people still tag for swears or not </3 

Word Count: 1658

You thank the universe that nobody could hear your heartbeat, for if they could, the world would surely fall apart at the intensity of its beats. Your face burns hot, and your body shakes with each step you take. You pray to every deity you can think of that you don’t drop the chocolate you stayed up all night making. Pan after pan and recipe after recipe lead you to this moment, finally finding the perfect concoction. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. No, it is perfect! Right? Fuck, what’s the backup plan if he doesn’t like it? Should you scrap it? Should you have brought some for everyone? You’re so lost in your thought, you hardly recognize your surroundings as you step into the lair. An enthusiastic “hey!” from your friends seals your fate: there’s no turning back now. No second-guessing.

You’re gonna give it to them. 

Raphael:

He’s so excited!! Chocolate? For him? From his crush?

He actually has to ask if you’re serious first, he can’t help it. Like really? Ethereal you made him homemade chocolate? He has to be dreaming.

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me for someone else? Not that I’m saying I don’t want it! Wait hold on, this isn’t coming out right-”

Raph what other giant, anthropomorphic snapping turtles do we know???

He smiles so big when you manage to stammer out that yes, this is for him, and he cradles the package so gently too. He’s such a sweetheart.

He actually made you something too!

He puts the box down gently before going to his room to grab it.

It’s a small handmade card with a little bouquet of wildflowers! (White trillium and starflower to be exact. He thought they were really pretty.) The bouquet is tied loosely with a red ribbon, pulled gently into a bow.

He was so nervous about giving it to you, that he actually wasn’t planning to at all! He’s had everything planned for weeks, but his anxiety kept getting the better of him. But getting something from you was exactly the kind of encouragement he needed to take that final leap.

He’s so flustered when he hands it over, and the way his hands shake makes you feel a little less shy. Maybe he does feel the same way?

Two shy dorks in love <3

Leonardo:

Yoo, for real? For him? Hell yeah, thank you!

He’s really confident on the outside. Like, he’s so excited and accepting about it it’s unreal. All of your anxieties melt away, as they tend to do around him, and you can’t even remember why you were so stressed in the first place! It’s Leo, after all.

He’s dying (in a good way) on the inside though. He’s just internally screaming. Holy shit his crush is giving him chocolate? And it’s homemade? Oh my god look at that tiny white chocolate drizzle, that’s so cute!! Is that a strawberry?? MANY thoughts, head FULL, and in LOVE.

(He’s gonna hardcore brag about it to his brothers later.)

His heart is pounding out of his chest, although he doesn’t divulge that information.

He asks you out right then and there. Like!!!

He doesn’t actually say the word “date,” but god. You’re suddenly all shy again, and you can’t do anything but nod furiously.

The date is super casual, (yes its at Hueso’s. He begs him to pull out all of the stops, and he does so, even if only to shut up Leo. Actual king <3)  and it really puts you at ease. At some point he moves to hold your hand, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps into your throat. And he'd be lying if he didn’t feel the same way.

His confession is so eloquent, and yet… dorky. Sweet. Like he’s rehearsed it a million times, trying to find the best possible words to win your heart. Little did he know, he’s always had it.

Donatello:

oh no

He didn’t plan for this. Like, this was literally the one thing he didn’t plan for.

(He has confidence issues, give him a break!! How could he have known that you were going to give him something too? And give it first as well?? Which sets a precedent for the gift he gives?? Social interactions are Awful and he’s in Hell.)

He’s still pleasantly surprised though!

He kind of short-circuits for a moment, and he’s completely deadpan for at least three seconds. It’s the worst couple seconds of your life. Then he comes back to reality and thanks you super genuinely.

(It’s hard to read him at the best of times, and this is. So much. He just doesn’t know what to do with himself!!!)

He takes his time looking at every detail on the chocolates, and your anxiety dies down as you see the softest smile grace his features. It’s so genuine, and you don’t even think he knows he is smiling, so it’s really reassuring.

You take the time to really study his features, and fuck, he’s really pretty. You’re both flustered when you guys come back to reality.

He made you a gift too!! In fact, he has a whole day planned out.

It’s a long and fun day of running around the Hidden City, and at night, in New York.

It’s incredible.

He’s confident, and he says all the right things. He’s had this night planned out for weeks, and fuck if it doesn’t shine through.

At the end of the night, he gives you his gift with averted eyes. It’s a strange contrast to the pure exciting, confident persona he’s been putting on all day.

It’s handmade, and tailored to your exact interests and equipped with his own, Donatello-Style flair.

He’s confident in his tech, and he knows you like the back of his hand, but this is… completely new territory.

Valentine’s Day has never been so perfect.

Michelangelo

He did the same thing, actually!!! So this is actually so perfect for him!!

He spent all night making the perfect chocolates. Most of them are filled, and those that aren’t have some unique, artistic drizzle adorning them. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he got them from a fancy chocolate place.

He genuinely can’t contain his excitement when you hand him the box all shyly. His eyes light up with the brightness of a dying star going supernova.

He immediately hugs you, careful not to crush the chocolates, and then his mouth is moving at a mile a minute. It’s almost hard to keep up!! He’s just so happy and excited, and he’s running to the kitchen and he has a box too??? Hello, what’s going on??

He’s trying so hard to not just blurt out a confession here and now.

It’s completely impromptu, but he suggests going out on the town. He didn’t plan it, he was honestly just planning to stay in and watch some movies with you, but now that you’ve brought him a Valentine’s Day gift too? That means you like him too right, maybe?

If he’s gonna confess to you, it’s sure as hell not gonna be in a sewer. (Even if it is his home. It just ain’t right, man!)

It’s really fun! You feel so at home with him, and there’s no pressure at all.

Everything just seems to fall into place around him. He’s your home. Unbeknownst to you, he feels the exact same way.

He confesses by the end of the night. It’s so sweet and sincere, but there isn’t a single moment of hesitation. He’s so head over heels for you, and that love shows itself in every movement and word.

April

She’s never been given chocolates before!! She’s always looked on in envy through middle school, highschool, at work, etc. So fuck, if she’s not immediately swarmed with emotion. She’s like, two seconds away from crying. I love her so much…

It’s actually really funny, because she ordered a really nice bouquet of ivory & pink flowers from her local flower shop for you, but they hadn’t arrived yet! She’s super upfront with it, and it gets a good laugh out of both of you. The classic April O’Neil luck, ey?

It definitely lightens the mood, and she suggests going out to a local restaurant to get lunch, and then maybe go sightseeing! Or maybe just goof around in the Hidden City? No pressure!

It’s super fun! You never want the night to end, to be quite honest.

You get to choose the music while you guys drive around, and you end up picking the silliest stuff. You guys laugh and belt out the lyrics to every song.

The food at the restaurant is perfect, and everything goes off without a hitch. At some point she reaches across the table to interlock fingers with you, and you’re suddenly alight with so much love and recognition that this is an official date, and your best friend - your crush - is holding hands with you, and her hand is so soft and warm and… you’re so in love. And unbeknownst to you, she’s feeling the exact same strain of emotion.

At the end of the night she takes you to a rainy spot in the Hidden City, and you guys dance and sing in the rain.

Everything feels so natural and perfect with her. She’s your safe space, your home, your world.

You can barely stand to part at the end of the night.

When you do get back to your home, you find her gift at your front door. It’s a beautiful bouquet of white Gardenias, pink Carnations, pink Peonies, and… a white Lily. They stand perfectly in a vase, apparently left at your doorstep by the delivery driver. You place them on your kitchen counter as soon as you can, and text her immediately.

You love her with all your heart, and she’s head over heels for you, too.

[bambirex]

I really love your stuff, especially your fluff!! (I didn’t mean for that to rhyme lolol)

Can you please do one about Santana realizing she’s totally and completely whipped by her former best frienemy, Quinn Fabray??

Thank you!! 💕💕💕

Oh, that makes me really happy!! 💕

Warnings: none

**

Quinn looked absolutely beautiful in that dress. No, she was straight-up ethereal in those soft lavender colors. Her hair was up in a loose braid, her lips were pink and her eyes were shining.

Santana found herself having trouble breathing properly.

Obviously, she had noticed that Quinn was pretty. Who wouldn't? The girl looked like a literal angel; there wasn't a single person in McKinley High who didn't either want to look like her, or date her. Or both.

Santana wasn't blind, but it seemed like her heart had been all along, in a way. Because these feelings, the way her heart pounded like it wanted to burst out of her chest, her palms grew clammy and an unfamiliar warmth spread through her body... these were new.

Her and Quinn had been hooking up for a couple months now, but they haven't given a name to their relationship just yet. Santana didn't quite want to call it dating. She didn't want to say she was in love.

But now, she spotted Quinn at the end of the hallway, and all rational thoughts flew out the window. She felt a giddy smile spread on her face without her permission, and her heart beat impossibly faster.

Could she really say she wasn't in love, if being around Quinn - if just simply thinking about her, made her feel that way?

What other explanation could there be for Santana feeling like she would gladly worship the very ground Quinn walked on? There used to be times when she outright hated Quinn, when the blonde was her biggest rival. One cannot go from that state of mind to this one so quickly and in such an intense way, if it didn't carry a deeper meaning.

She sighed dreamily when Quinn reached her. She was even prettier up close: those sky blue eyes, the perfect slope of her nose, her elegant eyebrows and golden locks all belonged on a painting. She was so utterly perfect, it made Santana ache.

"You're grinning," Quinn stated, amused, once she reached her. "What's the reason?"

I can't say it's you, Santana thought, that would be too sappy. It would be too much, and Quinn would probably tease the hell out of her. The mighty Santana Lopez, melting into a puddle over her formal frenemy? It made exactly zero sense.

"Nothing in particular," she lied instead. Her cheeks warmed when Quinn's smile turned softer.

"I hope I won't ruin your mood now, but I think I've changed my mind," Quinn said, looking apologetic. "I know we were meant to go out tonight, but I'm just not feeling it. Do you mind if we just, I don't know, hang out at one of ours?"

Usually, Santana would say that she minded it. She was the type of person who always got what she wanted, and she hated it when people messed up her plans in the very last minute.

Any other time, with any other person, Santana would have gotten mad.

But not with Quinn. With Quinn, she was simply unable to.

With Quinn, she was a piece of melted marshmallow, and she needed to admit that, as much as she wasn't proud of it.

And the idea of spending this evening with Quinn in their room, perhaps cuddling in front of a movie sounded too perfect all of a sudden. Right now, Santana felt like there wasn't anything else she would rather be doing.

"That's okay," she replied. She shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant. Quinn must have seen right through her, though, because she grinned like a cat that just got the cream.

"How about your place, then?" She asked softly. She reached out, gently brushing Santana's hair out of her face. The gentle touch made Santana shiver pleasantly.

"We could watch something. Order a pizza?"

"Anything you want, I mean, shit," Santana turned a deep shade of red. Great, now she was making a right fool of herself, making it way too obvious that she was a goner for Quinn.

Instead of making fun of her, Quinn blushed softly. She cupped Santana's cheek and leaned in for a tiny peck that lasted for only a couple seconds, but it still made Santana go weak in the knees.

"See you at 8, then?"

"Yeah," Santana breathed, "that would be good."

Quinn nodded with another bright smile. Santana so desperately wanted to reach after her and drag her back into another kiss when she turned away, but she managed to control herself in the last minute.

She suddenly remembered that she needed to clean her room- she couldn't let Quinn sit on a bed covered in empty candy wrappers, now could she?

Santana chuckled to herself, shaking her head. God. What has gotten into her? She never would have cared about these things before.

But then again, this was Quinn. And it was slowly becoming obvious by now that she played a very different role in Santana's life, a much more special one than anyone else.

With a giddy smile on her face, Santana went home to make sure her room was going to be prim and proper and ready for Quinn.

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 9 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.7k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: fanservice. that's it. that’s the tweet.

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART NINE

"Okay, just sign your name here, and she'll come to get you when she's ready." The cheery girl at the front desk told you.

You offered her a polite smile, walking over to the sit in the waiting room.

You always disliked these chairs. We were willing to bet money that these chairs have sat in this very room since your university first opened, worn out, uncomfortable, and outdated. Sure, maybe you had been in a bit of a sour mood lately – what with your fake ex-boyfriend dirty dicking you and all – but as you sat there, metal rod poking your spin, you couldn't help but frown.

As you sat there contemplating your school's renovation budget, you hardly noticed the sound of another student walking in and over to the front desk, your stomach churning as you put a face to those loose curls.

"Hey, stranger! What are you doing here?" Kiri's white teeth blinded you, walking over to you once her business with the receptionist was done.

You could feel one of your eyebrows twitch in irritation, swallowing down your scoff as she sat next to you.

"Trying to schedule my class next semester." You responded uninterestedly, contemplating whether or not the suspension from decking Kiri in the face would be worth it.

"Oh, just picking up a termination form. One of our newbies wants to pull out of Kappa Alpha Tau."

Shocker...

"Hey, so sorry to hear things with Jungkook and you didn't work out, by the way." Kiri flashed you a sympathetic look.

An audible breath left your lips, disbelief no doubt visible on your every feature. Did Kiri seriously think you didn't know it was her who home wrecked? Or was she just that much of a raging bitch?

"If you ever need someone to, like, talk to, just know that I'm here. I totally know what you're going through."

Your hands found themselves curling into tight balls in an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. Kiri looked as cool as a cucumber in front of you, perfectly composed, not a single hair out of place.

Then it hit you.

Of course. It all made perfect sense now.

From the moment she came up to you at your event offering her condolences, she had been trying to drive you off from Jungkook. She was planting seeds of doubt about their break up and his character. Manipulation and intimidation were her cards, and she played them well.

Fine. If the rules were being bent, you might as well disregard them altogether. You relaxed your hands.

"Oh, no worries. It's all good, I mean, it's not like we were actually dating." You shrugged.

Rule #2: No one can know the truth.

"What?" Kiri blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment.

You edged closer to her, cocking your head in mock surprise.

"Oh... did you not know that? That our entire relationship was contractual?"

"What are you talking about?" Her full brows furrowing.

You let out a sigh, "Yeah, so, basically, Jungkook would get his frat to fund my event if I helped make you jealous so that you'd come crawling back to him."

The polite mask that Kiri had plastered on finally cracked, her next words clipped and curt.

"What the hell is your damage, Y/N? Do you think I'm some sort of idiot how'd fall for that?"

"Good grief, did Jungkook not tell you? Weird, I feel like that's something he'd need to tell his girlfriend." You puffed out your bottom lip in mock sympathy.

Whatever resolve Kiri had built up crumbled at the way you held her stare, a note of honesty in your voice that she couldn't shake.

"I'm..." She cleared her throat, turning her nose up. "We're not actually back together yet."

"No? Really? Hmm..."

The call of your name crossed the room, and the two of you turned to look at the receptionist, ushering you over with the news that your counselor was ready for you.

You turned to Kiri with a smile, "Guess he didn't want you back as so much as he just wanted back in your pants."

Kiri looked utterly stunned, eyes wide as you stood from your seat, for once, without a clue as to what to say.

"See ya around, Kiri. Let's do lunch sometime. Oh and, happy holidays!" You fluttered your fingers at her, slipping away from her with a smugness you couldn't be assed to hide.

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"Wait... he called you?!" Taehyung laughed, eyes wide.

Yara nodded, scouring through the shelves, a specific book in mind. Belinda Carlisle was playing softly overhead and Yara found herself humming along.

As the holidays rolled around and everyone found themselves back in their hometowns, Yara was surprised to find Jungkook's frat brother browsing through the jam aisle in her local supermarket. As luck would have it, Jungkook's genetically blessed frat brother was from her hometown, the two somehow never crossing paths until now.

What started as a polite catchup over coffee, quickly turned into an everyday thing, the two of them realizing they had more in common than friend drama.

"He did!" Yara enthused. "He left a voicemail apologizing and rambled about how he wanted Y/N's address so he could go apologize, blah, blah, blah."

"That idiot." Taehyung rolled his eyes. He watched as she let out a noise of excitement, looking over her shoulder to announce that she had found the book she was in search of. He grinned in response.

"Anyway, I didn't call back. Because that's exactly how she wants to spend Christmas morning, with that jockstrap knocking at her door, right?"

Taehyung snorted, bringing the straw of his drink to his mouth.

"Miriam is gonna have your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style if she catches you with that drink in her library." Yara warned, to which Taehyung dismissed with a wave of a hand.

Yara was a funny girl; he was pleasantly surprised to bump into her during winter break. He could tell something was off when they first ran into each other, so he invited her out to grab some coffee. It was over a warm cup of coffee – with the most absurd amount of sugar he had ever seen – that she finally shared with him all that had been weighing on her mind lately.

Sure there was the Jungkook and Y/N stuff. Yara was beyond homicidal. Taehyung was grateful for winter break as he was positive she would have rung out Jungkook's neck had she seen him after what had happened. Taehyung himself was astounded to find out what exactly was true nature of the two's relationship, curtesy of Yara, of course. Even if it was fake, however, he knew Jungkook enough to know that the happiness he gave off once Y/N entered his life wasn't.

But more than that, the petite girl was worried about a boy, an irritating one who Taehyung happened to be frat brothers with. Eunwoo had approached her immediately after Kiri left him, spewing some excuse about only dating Kiri because he couldn't get Yara out of his mind.

It was bullshit if you asked Taehyung. But he hadn't the heart to tell Yara that, especially with the way she looked so torn up about it – unsure of how to respond to Eunwoo. He wasn't entirely sure what their relationship was like, but he figured it must have meant enough to her to have her feeling this conflicted.

So he did his best to cheer her up, inviting her for lunch and driving her to their local library, which he had come to find out was her favorite place growing up. They spent many afternoons sprawled out on the couches in the now abandoned children's section of the library... or at least until the crabby librarian yelled at them to leave.

If Taehyung was honest, he didn't care much for literature – he was a math guy – but the way Yara would shove a book into his chest with wide eyes and an 'if you don't read this and tell me your thoughts on it, I'll literally die,' seemed reason enough to keep showing up day after day.

"Have you talked to her about Eunwoo, yet?"

Yara flinched at the blond man's words.

"Why don't we ever talk about normal people stuff? Like the weather, or what sports team played last night."

"Yara..."

"Oooh!" She exclaimed suddenly, "I know, let's talk about President Reagan. Did you hear his speech about tearing down the wall in Germany? Crazy stuff–"

"Dude, why are you so scared to tell her about Eunwoo? You told me." Taehyung interrupted, quirking up a brow. Yara held his eyes for a moment before sighing.

"I just don't want to bring it up to Y/N, you know? She has enough going on..."

"So? She's your best friend. She'll want to help."

"Exactly! She's going to want to comfort me and make me feel better – which will just make me feel worse." Yara groaned, leaning back against the bookshelf.

"I'm... not following." The frat boy admitted.

Surely girls aren't usually this hard to understand.

"Look, I know you'd only known me for a little while, but let me pencil you in. I have a reputation, okay? Yara doesn't get hung up on some dumb boy." Yara wagged her finger at him.

"Does Yara usually talk about herself in the third person?" Taehyung chuckled.

"Yara," she continued, paying the boy no mind, "is an independent woman who likes one night stands and sex without strings. She doesn't like clingy boys getting into her head and confusing her."

Taehyung nodded, "So basically, Yara is scared of catching feelings."

"Shh! Don't tell Yara about what Yara doesn't want to hear." She turned her nose up at him, pushing herself back off the stand to march away from him. Taehyung reached for her arm without hesitation, stopping her departure with a sigh.

"Look, I don't mean to be on your ass about this, but clearly, you feel something for this kid. Otherwise, you wouldn't be spending all your time pining over him."

Taehyung immediately wished he could take back those words as an offended look fell across the petite girl's face, her hands falling onto her hips, clearly displeased.

"Pining? You think I'm pining over Eunwoo?"

Taehyung shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to navigate this situation. As much as he liked Yara, she did spark a healthy dose of fear into him.

"Well... I mean... you're spending your whole break with me just because I can give you a ride to the library so you can read sad romance novels and cry."

"First of all," Yara began, "I happen to enjoy your company. You're a good listener and, frankly, very nice to look at."

Surprise fell over Taehyung, "Nice to look at?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know." She waved him off, "Secondly, I've never cried. I've let out a sniffle at most."

"Fine, so you're not pining over him. Just get back together with him." He responded.

"I can't."

Taehyung frowned, "Then turn him down."

"I can't do that either." She frowned right back.

"Dude."

"I'm scared, okay!" She whined, thumping a foot against the library's carpeted floor.

"Of what? What's holding you back from going back to Eunwoo?"

"...He told me he loves me."

"And?"

"And I don't even know what that means!" Yara threw her hands up in exasperation, the sleeve of her swear falling down her forearms. "I don't know how to love him back or be a good girlfriend – which I know is what he wants from me."

"Yara, I hope you don't feel like you don't owe Eunwoo anything. Because you don't." Taehyung grew serious, which only caused the torn girl to pout.

"I know, I just... I mean, I don't hate him. But it's scary. Whenever I'm dating someone, I get all up in my head like... Am I supposed to be this someone's person? Possibly forever? What the fuck!"

"No, I get it. It's a lot of pressure." He shrugged powerlessly.

"Exactly! I don't want to have to try and love someone. I want to do it. Like... not to sound like a sappy idiot but sometimes I think about all those stories I read," she gestured towards the books beside her, "about feeling a spark when you kiss your person and just... I dunno. Would be fucking nice, instead of this complicated bullshit."

Yara was far from a hopeless romantic. As much as she loved to read about romance, she had an innate urge to flee the moment the word love came around. Still, she could appreciate the idea of it.

"So then forget about that stuff. Forget about labels and expectations. Just be with whoever you want to be with. Have fun, worry about the heavy shit later."

Taehyung had a very soothing effect whenever he spoke. His tone was low and lovely, and despite the way Yara's head was still running a mile a minute, she appreciated the boy's docile nature. Certainly made her feel a whole lot less anxious.

"I want to. That's how this whole thing with Eunwoo started, ya know?" She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But all men are the same. They say they're fine with keeping it casual, but they always end up falling for me, which, duh, understandable..."

The blond boy let out an airy snicker, a direct challenge to Yara's words.

"Something funny, Tae?" She pressed.

"C'mon, that's not true." He rolled his eyes breezily.

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to my four ex-partners who are all still in love with me."

"Maybe you just haven't met the one. You know... your knight-in-no-strings-attached-armor."

"I'm telling you, no such guy exists." Yara emphasized with a poke into Taehyung chest.

He grabbed the jabby finger reflexively, his long fingers wrapping around the small digit, setting his drink on the nearest shelf.

"Yara."

"Seriously, I've done my research! You're looking at a hot commodity, buddy. I may be a raging homebody, but I am very efficient—"

Suddenly, the petite was trapped against the bookshelf with Taehyung hovering over her, a large hand on either side of her head.

"Please stop talking."

Yara's cheeks flushed in surprise as she met the handsome boy's warm eyes, growing even hotter as he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.

He smelled distinctly of vanilla, and it sent her stomach fluttering, reeling in the way he gripped her waist, pulling him into her. She would've lost herself in the feeling of his soft lips moving against hers if it weren't for a cough ringing out from somewhere in the library.

Yara broke the kiss short, ears red as she brought her hands to wrap around her torso defensively, trying her hardest to ignore the way her heart was pounding against her chest as if trying to escape.

"You kissed me!" She scoffed, trying her hardest to seem unaffected. Taehyung shrugged.

"You kissed me back."

Oh god, this was bad. She felt all light and giddy tucked away in this corner of the library, the gorgeous tall man still close in proximity, looking at her through a smirk.

"Yes, well... I'm a very go with the flow kind of gal." She defended, brows furrowed adorably.

"Relax, Yara."

"Well, what the hell was that precisely?! Do you just make out with all your library buddies? Is there some sort of library buddy étiquette I'm not aware of?"

"I kissed you because I wanted to. Kissing is fun." He shrugged. "Some guys just want that, you know."

Son of a bitch.

"You got balls, Goldilocks. Understood. Message received, loud and clear." Yara acknowledged through narrowed eyes.

"Happy I could help, bookworm."

A corner of her mouth turned upwards, admittedly amused.

"Just so we're on the same page... you're not in love with me? You just smooched me for fun?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Sorry you had to find out this way." Taehyung joked, earning him an eye roll.

"And you don't have some ex-lover you need to make jealous?"

At those words, the frat boy laughed heartily, head shaking a firm no.

"Wicked."

Yara hopped onto the balls of her feet, hoping to catch the blond's kiss once more when her mouth met the hardcover of a book instead. She sank back down with an annoyed huff; Taehyung had pulled a book from the nearest self in reach, holding it up between them to pause the eager girl's ministrations.

Poking his head out from behind the book cheekily, he flashed her a lopsided grin.

"Easy there, tiger. What about Eunwoo?"

Yara held his eyes for a moment, wondering how she hadn't noticed what a pretty brown they were until now. She let out an appreciative hum.

"What about him?" She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her lips that had Taehyung leaning back over to meet it with one of his own.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me." You greeted him with a cautious smile as he slipped into the chair across from you.

You were nervous, to say the least, watching the tall man shift in his seat, trying to grow comfortable despite the uncomfortable circumstances.

"This place is disorienting." Erik scanned the mall cafeteria before flashing you a charming smile. "Thought you'd get tired of waiting and head back home. I apologize for my tardiness."

"No worries. I still don't know my way around at the mall, and I've been home for weeks." You grinned back.

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two ex-lovers, each taking a moment to consider the other. Erik looked a lot older than he did in high school; he had on a brand new pair of glasses that suited him far better than the ones you remembered did. His hair was combed and styled smartly so that they would stay out of his eyes. A stark contrast from the long-haired boy you had come to know these past few months.

Dammit. Your eyes fell onto the red table between you two, cheeks growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jungkook, even with your ex-fiance sitting across from you.

Erik's voice rang out, "I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting you to call me."

"I wasn't expecting me to either." You confessed, your hands intertwining on the tabletop.

Really, you didn't have much reason to be nervous. I mean, it was Erik. Despite the end of your relationship, there was no bad blood between you two. It wasn't the first time seeing him since the breakup either... maybe it was why you had called him that had you so on edge.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from Erik. Company? A distraction? Maybe what you were asking of him was unfair, but as he placed a hand over yours reassuringly, you found the wall you had set up crumbling down.

"I can help you, but you need to talk to me, Y/N. If I could read minds, I would be a much richer man." His brown eyes rolled dramatically.

You chuckled. Same dry wit you remembered.

"I met someone."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me? Y/N, you're allowed to date other people. I understand your hesitation, but really, it is time you moved on–"

You let out a scoff, yanking your hand away from the now laughing man. You flashed him a feigned look of irritation, silently grateful for the change of pace in conversation, finding it much easier to talk when things weren't so tense.

"God, you are still just as full of yourself as I remembered." You teased.

Erik shrugged, "Not to sound like a cocky asshole, but is it not warranted?"

You let that question run through your mind. You suppose if anyone had reason to have a big head, it would be Erik. Intelligent, handsome, hard-working– everything a mother would want their daughter to have.

"It is. You've always been perfect..." You mused, a hint of sadness in your tone that Erik picked up quickly.

And all at once, his entire demeanor changed, a serious expression settling behind those frames of his.

"Tell me about him." He instructed calmly.

And so you did— the beginning, the end, and all the beautiful bits in between. You told him about a boy that challenged you in ways you never imagined– a boy who made you feel like the sun. You spoke of every stupid conversation you once thought of as meaningless but now weighed heavily on your heart and mind.

You were mad at him, of course. There was a reason you had been ignoring his calls and ordered Yara to keep him in the dark of your whereabouts, after all. But the more you talked about him, the more you lit up. Erik noticed it too. How could he not? It was that very way you spoke with an uncontainable passion that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

He watched with utmost concentration for the vocal inflections of your words, the slight movement of your brows that always seemed to speak your mind before you did.

It was clear to him that this boy wasn't just a boy. He could hear in the choice of words you used, words that were static and void of variables. But there were certain words you seemed to dance around he realized as you came to the end of the story... words that were evident to all but you.

"So... Analysis?" You breathed out, chest deflating as you took in Erik's frown.

"Above all... did you find out if he used protection? I don't want to presume anything about... was her name Kiri?" Erik paused, continuing once you nodded back at him, "but your health should be your number one concern."

"I had a friend of his ask him on my behalf. He says he used protection... I went ahead and got tested anyway, though, and I'm all good thankfully." You told him.

Whether or not Jungkook had passed along some sort of STI was heavy on your mind the next morning after you kicked him out. Thankfully, Taehyung was more than happy to get the answer you need but were still too damn pissed off to seek out yourself.

"Good." Erik sunk back into his seat, a hand coming up to run through his hair as he considered his next words. You suppose you were grateful to be able to talk to Erik like this still. Sure, he was blunt and sometimes stared at you like you were some case-study, but he didn't bat an eye of judgment at the news of the contract, for which you were grateful. He had known you for too long to find it peculiar that you'd pretend to be someone's girlfriend in exchange for furthering and fulfilling your passion project.

If anything, that was precisely in line with your character. He liked to think he instilled some of those traits into you.

"Well, frankly, I am sorry to hear this happened to you. You're a great girl; you deserve better than that."

Your neck warmed at Erik's words, slightly taken aback.

"Oh, um... thanks, that means a lot coming from you." You expressed your gratitude shyly.

Erik nodded back at you, "Seriously. It was very shitty of him to string you along for so long and for sleeping with Kiri despite knowing how you felt."

"Oh."

"Oh?" He frowned, not expecting your response.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, pausing to watch a woman with a stroller walk past your table.

"Well..." you cleared your throat, "I'm not actually sure that he knows that I, um, like him... like that."

God, this was mortifying. The first time you had admitted you liked Jungkook and it was to your ex-fiancé? Sometimes you swear you were the protagonist in a mediocre rom-com film and no one was telling you.

Erik paused, "I see. And does he know now?"

"...No."

"I see." He sat up, fingers tapping against the table in interest. He quirked up a brow at you. "Perhaps it wasn't just him who was dishonest."

You scrunched your nose at him, not liking what you were hearing. It wasn't anything that hadn't already kept you up, tossing and turning in bed at 2 AM, of course. You had a feeling this was where this conversation would lead to. Erik, as genius as he was, was fairly predictable in this sense. Rational, dependable... nothing like the spontaneous boy you had fallen for.

"So? Even if he knew, what would that change? He slept with her..." You grumbled stubbornly.

"And maybe he wouldn't have if he had known."

You crossed your arms, "You don't know that."

"You're right. I don't. I don't even know the guy. But you do." He continued, offering you a suggestive look.

Huh. Did you think that would have stopped Jungkook? And even so, would that fact alone be enough to get you to forgive him?

"I... I don't know." Was your conclusion, pulling a hum from Erik.

"Guess the only way to know would be to discuss it with the meathead himself."

"I just... I don't want to get my heart broken again. I, quite literally, didn't sign up for this." You placed your face into your hands, hating how rational Erik had to be.

"My guess? He didn't either. It seems as if you both got more than you bargained for." He shrugged.

"He's definitely not at all what I was expecting..." You trailed off glumly.

When you first met Jungkook, he was obnoxious, cocksure, and grotesquely unbothered. You swore you had never hated anyone more on the first meet. But as you came to know him, you found in him a lot of what you wished you found in yourself. Approachable, flexible, spontaneous...

You just wished it all didn't have to hurt so bad.

"You and I are a lot alike, you know." Erik spoke up once he noticed you fall silent. " And I only realized this recently, but I think that was our downfall. When I asked you to marry me, what I was asking of you... Well, it was unfair. Because I know I would never accept that if I were in your shoes."

Your head shot up at his words, hands quick to wave at him dismissively. Asking him to meet you here was not to discuss what had gone wrong in your relationship, and you didn't want him to think that it was.

"Erik, that's okay you don't have to—"

"No, no, what I mean is... we made perfect sense together and it didn't work out in the end. This meathead of yours is nothing like you and maybe it's for the better. You said it yourself that he makes you feel important and formidable." He pressed on.

"Are you trying to imply the notion of opposites attract? Because I personally believe that's a myth and that we're drawn to those similar to us—"

"Puzzle pieces."

"Wha— Huh?" You blinked, blind-sighted by the calm man's sudden words.

Suddenly, Erik readjusted in his seat, leaning in close as he nodded his head.

"Think of life as one big puzzle, and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow... they fit. We find those that complete us. And they're not necessarily opposites but—"

"But different pieces in the puzzle." You sighed, understanding the metaphor.

You raised a brow at the intellectual man, "That was uncharacteristically poetic of you. I thought you were a man of science... since when do you rely on literary devices to get your point across?"

Erik let out a dramatic sigh, fingertips pressed to the rip of his glasses, leaning back into his seat as if showing his greatness.

"I'm a growing man, Y/N. Science helps you understand the mind and the body, but as far as the heart goes... there's only so much it can tell us." He tutted wisely with a wag of his pointer finger.

"Wow. I dig this character development. I quite like this new you."

"Wanna get married now?" He deadpanned suddenly, a laugh ripping out of you at his unexpected words.

Erik grinned at the familiar sound, also finding the humor within his joke. He was pleased to see that if anything, he could at least momentarily take your mind off of your heart's turmoil.

"Ask me again in another three years." You rolled your eyes, grinning wide, to which Erik threatened that if Jungkook didn't by then, then he just might.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

In Which I Project

Jon has some sort of neurodivercence and it is making work hard.

@janekfan

cw Jon is really really getting down on himself about what his brain is making hard, so cw for that and internalized ablism relating to things like rsd and executive dysfunction.  Jon also takes this out on his coworkers, because that is how Jon can be.  This chapter is a bit heavy with a hopeful end. If there is a chapter two, it will have a lot more fluff, promise.  (The reason Jon doesn't have a diagnosis is because I am projecting and I am not 100% what all is going on in my brain, this is just my experience.)  Also mentions of alcohol and food.  

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  

Why is he like this?  Why can’t he just fucking be a normal, functional person. Why does his brain behave like a backed up, broken drain.   He can’t think today.  

He’s been staring at his computer since 6:30 this morning.   He’s been here eight hours.  And it isn’t like he isn’t getting anything done.  But it’s not what he meant to do.  

He was going to check his email, record a statement, do some filing, check Martin’s work, then do some follow ups and check his email again before going home.  

Well.  He checked his email.  Then he noticed a flaw in what he filed yesterday so he had to fix that.  Then the loo was out of toilet tissue and he had to go chase down that, because the building’s maintenance tends to skip the Archives half the time.  (Which is usually fine because it’s used by four fairly neat people, but doesn’t help when they run out of things).  Then Elias had requested a meeting.  And that sent Jon spiraling because he wasn’t supposed to have a meeting today.  That was supposed to be tomorrow and while it’s nice that he doesn’t have to do that tomorrow it threw off his whole day and now he just feels like he’s going to cry or pass out or break his jaw by clenching it so hard.  

He can’t do it.  

He tries to make himself record a statement.  He does.  

But he can’t open the file.  

He can’t.  

He wants to scream in frustration.  Which, of course, is when Martin walks in.  

Jon doesn’t mean to yell.  He really doesn’t.  He doesn’t know where this vitriol comes from.  Was he always like this?   He doesn’t even remember what he says, just the acrid taste of bitter words on his tongue.  

When Martin flees, he tries to open the file again but the color and whine of the lights breaks down on him and his dragging fatigue.   

He tries to loosen his jaw.  Wiggles it side to side.  It pops, but ultimately goes back to tense.   It’s starting to give him a headache.   

He can’t do this.  It’s barely lunch.  He’s gotten nothing done.  

He tries to open this statement.  

He opens his email instead.  

The library wants his books back.  

He’s tired.  He means to gather his books and bring them up, but he ends up cleaning his desk and making notes on half researched statements he forgot about yesterday.  

That puts him off balance.  He hates not finishing.  It makes him feel on edge.  Like the world is going to drop from below his feet at any moment.  Like, in forgetting, the world has already dropped from beneath him, and he’s been walking on empty air and delusions.  And if this has already happened, how can he be sure it didn’t happen before.  

He finishes cleaning and files the loose statements away.  

He finally remembers to drink some water.  

He rubs his eyes against unshed tears and exhaustion.  It’s too bright.  Too loud.  

He takes his books up to the library.  

Hannah in the library tells him to remind Tim to return his books, she he does that.  

Jon is.  Edging towards …probably a nervous breakdown, if he’s honest with himself, by the time he stands before Tim’s desk.  

And Tim isn’t going to relinquish his books without a fight.  

“You can give Martin a rest or I’ll tell Hannah that you lost her books.”  Tim crosses his arms.  

It’s reasonable, Jon knows.  He’s behaved childishly.  This is more than warranted.  But, unfortunately his brain isn’t working.  He’s caught up in the disappointment in Tim’s tone, and again, the floor drops from beneath his feet.  Stomach dropping.  He tries to convince himself that, no, Tim doesn’t hate him.  All he as to do is agree or apologize which he should do anyhow.  But.  But what comes out of his mouth is something along the lines of, “Tim, I’ll thank you not to try to run my department.   This is hardly professional behavior.  Who do you think Hannah is more likely to believe?”   

This wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for the force and anger in his tone.  Misplaced confusion and frustration and exhaustion.  

He turns on his heel before Tim finds the words to argue.  

This is it.  

He’s ruined everything.  

Tim will never talk to him again and Sasha won’t either because he was rude to Tim.  And of course Tim’s mad at him because he was a prick to Martin.  

It’s all his fault.  He should have been able to stay on task.  He’s an adult, damnit!  

He finally opens the file but he hitches a sob before he can squeeze the introduction out of his tight jaw.  

He can’t do this.  

He can’t do this job.  

He can’t sleep at night and work all day.  Can’t even feed himself or get to the store once a week.  

How the fuck did he make it through school.  He’s a worthless mess.  

Georgie knew it.  

He wants to scream.  

They’re talking about him.  They must be.  That shouldn’t matter to him.  He’s their boss.  Besides, he was right even if he was rude about it.  Martin does make irritating mistakes.  He could have been more professional about handling it, but he still had to say something.   And Tim.  Tim had no right to bargain that way.  He has a responsibility to the library, and trying to use it as leverage against Jon is ridiculous.  

But at the same time.  There are the closest he has… had to friends.  Tim was his friend.  Right?  

Had he made that up too?  Has some memory of some earlier misdeed fallen out of the torn hole in the pocket of his memory where he looses things like hours, tasks, sleep, meals, meetings, half-finished statements on his desk.  

Why is he like this?  

He gets some more work done.  But none of the stuff on his list.  

He tries to make himself read the statement, again.  But he doesn’t.  

It’s late.  He’s left with lingering taste of disappointment and discontent.  

Today’s been a wash.  

He looks angrily at his scribbled to do list on the neon sticky note, from the stack Tim gave him back in Research.  Nothing’s been crossed off.  Statement has been circled twice.  He rubs at his eyes.  Tries to wipe away the tension headache.  Remembers to take a drink of water, finally.  It’s been hours.  It does help, a little, soothes some of the anxious desperation and crushing despair.  He wonders how much of it would be soothed if he got himself a hot meal.  How would it compare to the relief of finished that statement.  

But…. he won’t be able to go home and sleep if he doesn’t finish, because he won’t be able to relax until he gets it done.  

He allows himself 5 minutes to cry.  He sets a timer.  

It doesn’t help.  Doesn’t even offer the release he’d been hoping for.  

He dries his eyes with his sleeve.  

He reads the statement.  And scolds himself for taking all day to get to it.  It wasn’t hard.  It wasn’t even that bad.  It was a foolish statement that reeked of mischief and falsehood.  And he wasted his whole day avoiding it.  

He cries again, then.  No timer.  

He leaves his office.  He’s finally done with the day.  It’s edging on 21:00.  He feels like shit.  Of course he hadn’t brought a lunch, why would he have enough brain cells to do that?  He did make a halfhearted attempt at breakfast.  But that was a lot of hours ago, and he’d barely managed a few bites before his anxious stomach had stopped him.  He doesn’t feel hungry now, but he knows he is by the shakiness if his limbs, the over-lightness in his head, the irritation at himself still thick in his veins.  

He still has to get himself home.  

Then he hears footsteps on the stairs.  He thinks about going back to his office, but the idea of going back in there makes his head spin.  He’s spent too long in his office.  Christ, he just wants to sleep.  Just wants to be in bed without having to get home and make dinner or order dinner or shower or get in bed.  He just wants to be there.  Just wants to be there and sleep of eternity.  He angrily brushes away a stray tear.  

Of course, it’s too late now to try to hide, and eh certainly can’t hide how rumpled and tear-stained he is.  So he stands there dumbly, some archaic part of his brain reasoning that if he stays still, maybe no one will see him.  

Tim sees him.  Tim is laughing on his phone, pleasantly buzzed, and fumbling for the jacket he most likely forgot before going for drinks.  At least it’s still fairly early.  At least Tim still cares enough about his job to wrap it up at a decent hour.  He spots Jon, and hesitates.  Jon doesn’t look like he’s doing well.  He trails off mid chuckle.  “Sorry Sash, I’ve gotta go.  I’ll talk to you later, yeah?  Had fun tonight.”  

What does he say to Jon, who’d been a right ass earlier.  Jon, who is now teary and frozen, staring at him with exhaustion and mortification.  

He makes a decision, making a conscious choice to make himself smaller and softer.  “Hey, come back to mine, I’m going to buy you dinner.  As my boss, you’re a prick, and I haven’t forgotten that.  But as my friend, you need a curry.  Maybe we can sort out my asshole boss and my upset friend at the same time, yeah?”

[verascrow]

Agree to Disagree

Ch 8 - The Park [ part 1 ]

masterlist

Your eyes stay glued to your phone, waiting for another message from him, but it never comes. Sighing, you shove your phone into your pocket, kicking a rock as you make your way towards the gates. You hoped he would actually come and not ditch you, but you wouldn’t exactly put it past him either.

The sun was still up in the sky, a golden glow adorning your features as you walked. The air was warm, that was to be expected as summer was nearing, but it was a nice contrast to the cold spring days you had become accustomed to.

When the gates came into view, you subconsciously pick up your pace, breaking into a slight jog as you reach them. Mr. Yamada is leaning against the side of the gate as you slow down and reach them, his attention turning to you and his expression lighting up.

“Y/n!” He yelled enthusiastically, making you laugh lightly. “Hello Mr. Yamada!” When you walked up to him, he gave you a tight side hug, which you happily returned. When you pulled away from him, you saw a smug smirk on his face, making your happy expression falter.

“Sooo, you and Shinso, yeah?” An almost horrified expression was printed onto your face, which made him burst out into laughter. You felt more them embarrassed at the volume of his voice, resulting in you trying (and failing) to get your teacher to quiet down.

“It’s not like that, I promise you! I just- I thought it would be, uhm, nice to go out with him! And-and not have him yelling at me!” You try to explain, which only fuels his laughter. Slowly, they wind down into giggles as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

You hear someone clear their throat from behind you, prompting you to swiftly turn around to face none other than Shinso. When Hizashi looks up to see him, it only spurs on his laughing fit again. “Am I... interrupting something?” Shinso asks, rubbing the back of his neck as you try and explain, interrupted by your teacher’s cackling.

“Y’know what! Let’s get going, we only have a few hours! We’ll be back! Thank you Mr. Yamada!” You rush out, gripping onto Shinso’s hand and rushing the both of you away from the gate. Hizashi stays back, waving the two of you off as he deals with his laughing fit in his own.

While you drag Shinso away, his eyes stay glued to your hand holding his. One part of him wanted to rip his hand out of your grasp and go back to his room, but the other half was telling him against that. He noticed that your hands fit perfectly into his...

His thoughts were interrupted when you let go of his hand, the situation rendering in your head finally. “Sorry.” You mumbled out, awkwardly holding both of your hands together as you continued to walk down the hill. He shrugs, not that you can notice while in front of him.

You both walk in awkward silence for a while, crossing a few roads here and there with him trailing behind you. He huffs, picking up his speed a bit so that he’s walking in stride with you. “Why are you walking so fast?” He grumbles, making you stiffen up as you slow down a bit, saying another apology.

He was joking. He didn’t actually have a problem with it, but it didn’t come out exactly as he had thought it would. He decided it would be more awkward to apologize to you for your apology, so he let it be, trying to lift the mood a different way.

“So, uh, where are we going?” That peaks your attention. You turn to him as you begin talking. “There’s this park a few blocks away and there’s this really good ice cream shop nearby!” You tell him, excluding the one other part of your journey that would be more important later.

He hums, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. You take a bit of time to look at his outfit, pleasantly surprised. He has on a simple white tee with a black jacket over it, dark jeans hugging him loosely. You smile a bit, he actually cleaned up nicely. Turning your attention away from him, which you now realize was a bit strange that you were checking him out in the first place, you motion for him to cross another street with you.

After a bit more walking, you finally reach your destination. The park wasn’t too large, but it wasn’t small either. It was perfect, in your opinion. Grassy fields accented the dirt pathways, trees scattered here and there, a large pond being the spectacle of it all.

“We’re here!” You exclaim, running in front of him and turning swiftly on your feet, spreading your arms out happily as you smile at him. His eyes widen, but he takes the moment to look around. “It’s super pretty, huh?” You say, and he can’t help but nod. It really was a beautiful place.

“Let’s walk.” You tell him, turning back around as you make your way down the path. He follows close behind, head swiveling left and right as he takes in the view. “How come I never knew about this place?” He asks out loud, barely a mumble. You smile at that, letting your arms loosen at your sides. “I used to come here all the time when I was little, look at the fish in the pond and stuff. I come here when I’m stressed sometimes.”

He listens silently to your rant, both of your feet coming to a stop at the water’s edge. You sat down, resting your elbows on your knees as you looked into the water. Shinso followed suit, stretching out his legs, laying back on his hands. The silence this time wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable if anything.

He was the first to speak up. “Why did you bring me here? Bring me out?” He asks, turning his head lazily to look at you. Feeling his eyes on you, you turn to meet his gaze. Your eyes are nothing but welcoming, the golden rays of the sun liting up your face more perfectly than words could describe.

“Well, I could say it’s to get us relaxed for the presentation tomorrow, which technically wouldn’t be a lie.” You tell him, bringing your hand up to stroke your chin teasingly. He rolls his eyes, but you catch the glimpse of a smile on his face, but as quick as it was there, it was gone. “But, if I’m being honest with you, I just want to get to know you, be your friend.”

That catches him off guard, it’s obvious by the way his whole body tenses and how his breath hitches. You turn your attention back to the water, small fish causing ripples to appear on the otherwise calm surface. You smile, hoisting yourself up with a push, wobbling on your feet as you find your footing.

Once you do, you turn back over to Shinso, whose eyes are directed away from you. You clear your throat, extending your hand out towards him. Slowly, he turns his head in your direction, eyes darting up to meet yours. He glances at your hand, then back to you.

“C’mon.” You tell him with a smile. “Today isn’t over yet, and we still have things to do.” He seems much less hesitant as he grabs your hand, allowing you to help him up. When he finds his own balance, he lets go, but he opts to stand closer to you. “Lead the way.”

pairing - Hitoshi Shinso x GN!Reader

a/n - after far too long, here’s part one ( of two ) for this chapter! I’m finally in a good mental headspace, so expect more frequent updates in the near future. part two should come out in a few hours, I have classes today so I need to get that done first, otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

taglist - @toshiuwu @ayamecrevan @aizameow @dabi-sunflower @lunamoonbby @intense-socks @keijiqahara @blossominglark @godssleepymistake @superhermit @peepeepoopoot @sinrinyoku @shipsail567 @mykuronekome @fi-chanwrites @just-dreaming-stuff

[crystalas]

Shadow Puppets part 7

Wherein Kaos gets a new curse buddy and stuff really hits the fan.

Chapter seven: a new piece to the game…

Spyro stared at him for a second before finding his voice.

“What did you do? You tried to freaking strangle me!” Spyro shouted “what was that all about?”

Kaos didn’t answer he just huddled up drawing his knees up to his chest and covered his ears as if he could hear something terribly loud.

“Com’on ranting about your reasons and evil plans is villain 101 if you’re gonna try and murder me after all this time at least tell me why?!” Spyro continued but Kaos wasn’t paying attention to him and had now squeezed his eyes shut.

“Kaos what the hell is…”

Then like he was tuning into a radio signal for the first time he heard something just cut in. A dark horrible and very familiar chuckle.

See Kaos? Isn’t it so much easier if you just accept your place in life and obey? You can’t stop me…

Spyro felt his whole-body shudder at the voice and he looked around to see Strykore in his boiling cloud form floating in front of Kaos.

“Strykore!” he roared “I thought we saw the last of you?!”

“Y…you can see him?” Kaos stammered.

“Yeah, kinda hard not to, I mean he’s right there!”

Ah good Strykore chuckled If you can hear me, you can also obey me…

“I’ll never obey you! Not now and not ever again!” Spyro spat and let loose a fireball that just went straight through the billowing form and singed the wall behind it.

Like either of you have a choice…hmm? Still fighting I see? Strykore mused as he noticed his body was fading, he looked over to Kaos who had his eyes closed and trying his hardest to meditate and focus his will. What’s the point? We both know you’re only prolonging the inevitable…

Strykore vanished and Kaos slumped forward gasping in breath. Spyro crept closer unsure where Kaos stood in all of this but given how he had seemed to have fought Strykore off somehow maybe he was an ally?

“Kaos…wanna fill me in?” he said, Kaos didn’t say anything but stared at the floor. “Dude Strykore just showed up in my bedroom and you tried to strangle me I kinda wanna know what the heck is going on…”

“I can’t” was all he got.

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you…”

“Why?”

“Because if I do Strykore will punish me!” he screamed angrily before covering his mouth and flinching as he expected his head to suddenly be in agony…but nothing happened… he uncurled from his flinch and glanced at Spyro before touching his throat.

“Punish you?”

“Yeah…normally by now it feels like he’s either choking me or lit my brain on fire…” he said, it was a pleasantly surprised but it also unnerved him a bit. Why stop the curse now?

“Whoa…hold up, ‘normally’? Implying that this is a regular occurrence for you?” Spyro inquired, Kaos not wanting to push his luck just nodded.

“How long has this been going on with you and Strykore? What’s he been doing?”

“He…he’s been trying to possess me and make me his puppet! It started with nightmares back in Cloud Cracker Prison and it just kept getting worse!” Kaos blurted out, a part of him screamed for him to shut up but another part was happy to finally be able to say it out loud after all this time. “I tried to fight him and make him go away, I even tried to stay in prison so he’d loose interest but he made my powers go nuts to get Mother’s attention so she’d bring me here and train me! He wants me to get stronger for him and I’ve tried to stop him so many times but I keep losing no matter what I did and…and I don’t know what to do! I can’t keep doing this…I can’t fight him anymore… I’m so tired…” his rant trailed off as he fought to keep his breathing steady before he just covered his face up with his hands, Spyro strained to hear the next part but he heard it none the less.

“I’m scared…” came the exhausted whisper.

Spyro did the math in his head, from what his friends told him the whole prison incident happened about a month before he got back and that would mean…Kaos had been dealing with this for at least six months maybe more if he what he said about the nightmares happening first was true. He then looked back at Kaos who looked like he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep or cry but desperate to maintain the façade that he was dealing with it all.

Spyro felt sorry for the poor guy but that was quickly side swept by another feeling of appalling disgust…at himself and his friends. He had thought it was weird that his friends didn’t seem that attentive in their guard duties [except Jet-Vac that guy did nothing by halves] but they had explained how Kaos had become muted and he didn’t cause any troubles. They saw how withdrawn and un-Kaos like he had become and instead of seeing it as something wrong or amiss they had taken it as a good thing.

They were supposed to be heroes, people who helped others no matter what. So how the hell did no one see that Kaos had been suffering this whole time? Where the heck had his parents been looking? He was their kid surely; they must have noticed something!!

Fix the problem not the blame Spyro told himself.

“Okay look we can fix this Kaos, Strykore as your troll pal would say has made a fatal error” he declared, Kaos looked up at him.

“Uh huh?” was all he got back.

“He’s shown his hand! I’ll go tell Eon and the others and we can get this fixed!” and before Kaos could respond he took flight and dived out of the room not noticing that Kaos had opened his mouth to say something, but he was already gone.

Eruptor, Stealth Elf and Pop-Fizz were lounging on the sofa watching some reality TV show when Spyro landed in front of them.

“Guys! Somethings been going on right in front of us this whole time!” he cried his friends sat up.

“Like what?” Eruptor asked.

“Weren’t you guarding Kaos? Where is he?” Stealth Elf asked.

“That’s the thing! Kaos is…is…Gak!” he spluttered, it felt like a collar was tightening around his neck and would only let up when he stopped trying but would quickly resume when he made another attempt to warn his friends. He gave up after five minutes of him looking like he was about to cough up a fur ball.

“Do you need a glass of water?” Pop-Fizz asked.

“No!” Spyro angrily spat shaking his head and scratching his neck in some vain hope to find whatever it was gripping him. “I need to t…ack…ack!” he gave a frustrated snarl and sat down on his haunches; his friends were staring at him like he had lost his mind.

“Give me a minute…” he managed to choke out before returning to his room, Kaos was still on his bed.

“Let me guess, couldn’t get the words out?” he drawled.

“How in all of the realms have you been dealing with this for so long?!” he demanded “I’ve only had it for five minutes and it’s driving me crazy!”

“Welcome to my hell” Kaos said drily. Spyro shot out a small flame from his snout in aggravation before grabbing his cell phone off his desk.

“Well, there’s more than one way to communicate in this day and age…” Spyro said and opened up a messaging app.

“If you value your phone I suggest you don’t even try, Strykore made me break mine by overloading it with Tech magic. I’d hate to think how he’d make you break yours.” Kaos piped up, Spyro glanced at him before slamming his phone back down angrily and crossing his arms. Kaos noticed as he watched Spyro chunter and think to himself that where he had grabbed the dragon his scales had turned a dark grey like when he was evil.

So that’s why you wanted Spyro Kaos thought, you need his light for something.

“Ok…so he punishes you whenever you find a way to stop him. Is there anything he stopped you from doing for no good reason? Like getting close to a relic or a certain spell?” he asked and took to his room pacing back and forth, he did not like being caged like this. It brought back extremely unpleasant memories of the last time Strykore ‘tightened his grip’. Kaos shook his head.

“No if anything he likes it when I find relics of power or useful spells…I think the only time he’s praised me was when he found out I have a photographic memory.” Kaos mused out loud.

“Wait you do?”

“Sure, how the heck do you think I’ve learned so much magic so fast?”

“I dunno cheating?”

“Uncalled for but fair…” Kaos muttered as he wracked his brains but took a deep gasp in when it hit him. “Glumshanks!”

“The troll?” Spyro asked.

“Glumshanks said he made the nightmares go away when I was little, and for a while when I slept with him Strykore’s nightmares stopped…” Kaos explained but paused when he saw how Spyro was looking at him. “Get your mind out of the sewer dragon boy!” he snapped “slept as in slumber party not whatever filth you thought up!”

“Thank the ancients but we’re getting off topic, what did Glumshanks do?” Spyro said desperate to move the conversation along.

“That’s the thing he doesn’t do anything I’m just…in his presence and it stopped…wait…wait! No there was something he did when I was younger!” Kaos said feeling more hopeful than he has in felt like forever.

“What? What did he do?”

“He…” Kaos declared then realised with half of the sentence hanging out of his mouth how embarrassing this was going to be to say out loud. “He…ugh… he sang a lullaby.”

There was a pause as Spyro gawked at Kaos who went bright red and wanted to be swallowed by the mattress.

“A lullaby? We’re betting our literally bodies and souls on your troll singing a lullaby?!” Spyro shouted.

“It sounds insane I know…”

“It is insane how is a lullaby going to fix this?!”

“Look a lot of nursery rhymes and lullabies have some basis in either history or culture, I mean ‘Baa Baa black sheep’ is actually a recounting of the Great Sheep Plague of 1066. It’s not that out of the realms of the possibility that the song Glumshanks used to sing to me was some old troll warding spell that lost its meaning over the centuries.” Kaos explained, “It’s a long shot but it’s all we got!”

“Then let’s go find him and pray no one else is around cos I don’t want anyone seeing this!” Spyro moaned.

 Finding Glumshanks was proving to be fruitless they had scoured the entire academy for over an hour but there was no sign of him. Kaos gave a groan as he drifted to the floor after flying around the grounds, Spyro dashed about keeping an eye out.

“Where the heck is he?” Spyro growled.

“Let’s ask mother she might have sent him on an errand.” Kaos suggested, luckily Kaossandra was easier to find as she was in the library reading up on something. She put down her book when she saw the two approached.

“Hey sweetie it’s nice to see you” she smiled.

“Mother have you seen Glumshanks? We need him for something…” Kaos asked.

“Oh, I gave him the weekend off. Whatever it is can wait till Monday.” She said dismissively.

“What?!” Kaos shrieked “You can’t do that!”

“Oh? And why not?” she asked in a tone that suggested that Kaos had stumbled on dangerous ground.

“You can’t dismiss him like that, Glumshanks is MY minion! He works for me! If he wanted a day off he would have to run it by me first!” he snapped angrily, his mother gave a sigh.

“Kaos, Glumshanks isn’t your minion, he’s mine” she stated simply this seemed to enrage Kaos more.

“NO! If he was your minion as you so claimed then how come he stays by MY side all the time?” Kaos demanded. Kaossandra got annoyed by this; her son is finally talking to her outside of class after all these months and it’s so he can ask for her servant? She didn’t want to admit it but she felt a pang of jealousy at how Kaos always preferred her servant’s company over hers which has only become more obvious as time had gone on.

“Because you’re his job!” Kaossandra shouted angrily “I hired him to look after you so I could focus on my duties, okay? He’s by your side because it’s his job to make sure you stay out of trouble or at the very least keep you alive!”

Kaos looked like he had been drenched in cold water, Spyro panicked a bit and tried to intervene.

“Maybe now isn’t the time for truth bombs?” he suggested meekly but Kaossandra wasn’t having any of it.

“Kaos, don’t you think he needs a break after enduring you all this time?” she demanded “Let the poor troll relax for one weekend without you dragging him everywhere you go!”

Kaos stood there for a second before spinning on his heel and leaving without another word, Spyro bounced his gaze between him and his mother before ending up looking at her.

“Any idea where he might have gone? We really do need him for something!” he asked and she rolled her eyes.

“If I know him, he’s probably at the flea market today, but I’d wish you’d leave the poor guy alone.” She said Spyro gave a nod of thanks and dashed after Kaos who was now storming down the steps clenching his fists and chuntering to himself. The dragon managed to catch the end of said under breath rant.

“Dismiss my troll, did she? She’s wrong! She’s wrong I’m not a burden to Glumshanks…I’m not…I’m his master he’s calls me that so I must be…”

“Hey pumpkin head, you okay?” Spyro asked gently.

“Of course I’m fine! Now that we know that Glumshanks isn’t in the academy he’s probably at the Saturday Flea Market, he likes to check out the book stalls there.” Kaos declared boldly.

“So, what your mom said…didn’t bother you?” the dragon inquired.

“Not at all, after all my mother and father have made it a life-long habit to lie to my face! the whole ‘Glumshanks is only with me because of mother’s orders’ is probably her trying to make me favour her and father’s company instead. Like that’s happening any time soon!” he growled. “We will get Glumshanks to sing whatever spell that lullaby is, and once I am freed from …him…” Kaos spat “I will interrogate Glummy for the truth.”

“And what if it is true?”

Spyro regretted asking that because he could immediately see the look of pain and distress that flickered across his face before being hidden again.

“It’s not” Kaos stated boldly. “Now shut up and get flying!”

“Spyro!” Stealth Elf cried and popped in front of them, the other quickly followed. “We’ve been looking for you, why did you just bolt out of the house so quick after saying you had something to tell us?”

“Yeah man you were acting kind of weird” Eruptor stated, Spyro glanced at Kaos who shrugged at him.

So, no one noticed me acting odd for months but they noticed when Spyro acted weird for TEN FREAKING MINUTES??!! Kaos seethed in his head as Spyro struggled to think of an answer.

“Guys I can’t tell you but once I’ve sorted it, I’ll explain the whole thing!” Spyro began but Jet-Vac stood in front of him with his military face on.

“No, we are discussing it now. Spyro the last time you acted unlike yourself Strykore had turned you evil we are not risking losing you again!” he declared “Now please tell us what’s wrong?”

“Don’t think we didn’t notice your scales…” Stealth Elf said, Spyro gave a confused noise and put his claw on his neck.

“That’s the thing right there its…hhuuugh!” he choked again this time Strykore’s grip tightened so much black spots appeared in his vision, he gasped and gagged even after he stopped trying.

It would seem you’re still as rebellious as before, I will need to be stricter with you… he heard Strykore muse in his head. Kaos flicked his gaze between the Skylanders who had rushed around their friends trying to help him unaware that being near him was probably making it worse.

“Spyro the more you fight it the worse it gets just…stop resisting…” Kaos said which brought Eruptor on him hard.

“Resisting what?!” he demanded and prodded a molten nub at the wizard, who went quiet and looked away. “Spyro was watching you when he suddenly started acting weird, what did you do?”

Strykore let Spyro breathe for a moment and the dragon wheezed as he took in a good lungful of air and swallowed the bile that had travelled up.

“Eruptor wait…its…” Spyro began but a flash of inspiration hit him. “Kaos put a curse on me! he wanted to try and stop my powers or whatever but could only manage my flames!”

“What?!” Kaos yelped but saw Spyro give him the ‘play along’ look. The others rounded on Kaos and Jet-Vac grabbed his shoulders to keep him in place.

“Curses if only you guys hadn’t figured it out so soon…” Kaos declared evilly “I would have had a little dragon minion of my own.”

“I don’t know what his range is with me is but we better put him somewhere secure, say a traptanium cell?” Spyro suggested.

“Good idea, maybe we should get Eon or Kaossandra to stick him in the void prison with Strykore” Pop-Fizz added in, Kaos gave a sigh as he was marched away.

Don’t worry Kaos we just need to keep you somewhere Strykore can’t use you…hopefully by then we can figure out how to warn everyone Spyro thought but froze in horror as he felt Strykore chuckle darkly in his head.

Its adorable that you think you can out-wit me wyrmling but rest assured I know how to deal with this. Strykore appeared in his smoky form and Spyro watched as he floated behind Kaos even though Eruptor and Pop-Fizz would be able to plainly see him they didn’t react.

Of course, you’re still in our heads so only we can see you…wait…NO! Spyro realised what Strykore was planning as he raised his clawed hand and swung it so it plunged into Kaos’ back…

Kaos gave a gasp as his whole body went numb for a brief second before it felt like it was overcompensating by suddenly feeling everything! He dropped to his knees as that horrible sensation of feeling too big and yet too small for his body surged again hugging his arms as he tried to keep himself grounded. He flashed between feeling like he was being burned alive to being frozen to death, magic energies roared through his body ricocheting around wildly that made him double over in such a way his head almost touched the ground.

“What’s with you?” Pop-Fizz asked but Spyro dashed forward pushing Jet-Vac out of the way in his haste.

“Kaos!” he cried “Talk to me buddy!” to the confusion of the other Skylanders.

Kaos gave a whine as his whole body shuddered and twitched with crackling magic arching from him.

“H…he’s trying to…to make my magic surge…” Kaos managed to gasp out between the crashing waves of agony. His lungs heaved and he felt something come up his throat before he could even put his hand up to his mouth, he vomited blood onto the floor.

How pathetic, you’d rather rip yourself apart from the inside than give in to me? Or is this a foolish attempt to protect your jailors? Strykore said uncaring of the state he had put his nephew in. Though it is good to see that your control over your magic has improved…

Strykore’s going to kill him! I have to stop him! Spyro panicked internally claws hovering over the convulsing form unsure if he should even touch him.

Please give me some credit, I’m not going to kill him Spyro blinked when he heard Strykore reply to his thoughts I know exactly how far I can take this down to very last moment, its thanks to YOUR meddling that I now have to keep him from being moved.  Spyro looked on helplessly as did the other Skylanders who also had no clue to react, Stealth Elf had run off to find help and Pop-Fizz was rummaging through his backpack for anything that could help to no avail. After a horrible few minutes that felt like an eternity the pain finally subsided and Kaos fell limp on the ground.

“I’m so sorry…” Spyro whimpered “It’s my fault…I…I should’ve…”

“J…Just…Find…Glumshanks…” Kaos whispered, Spyro gave a nod and took to the skies like a rocket.

“What the heck is going on? Is Spyro his enemy or friend? Cos, I have totally lost track…” Pop-Fizz asked no one in particular as they watched the dragon zip off.

“We can hash that out later but for now let’s get Kaos back inside so Eon and Kaossandra can take a look at him, I’m no magic wiz but even I know puking blood is a bad sign!” Jet Vac declared, Kaos blinked slowly as he was picked up. Everything ached and he was exhausted to a level he didn’t think was possible, his eyelids felt like they were weighed with lead as unconsciousness took him.

Where Strykore was waiting for him…

[buryme-makeoutcreek]

Best shows I watched in 2020

I wanted to look at some shows I watched that I felt had some of the best writing. Most of these shows did not come out in 2020 but are shows that definitely deserve some attention for their masterful writing. Minor spoilers below. 

1.Succession

This show took me by complete surprise. While I love stories about complicated, and darker characters I went into this show expecting it to be a classic story about power dynamics among the rich. And it is but the show is really about cycles of abuse and trauma and how that relates to a capitalist system. The show follows the children of billionaire Logan Roy as they continuously jostle for power within the family company, it’s very Shakespearian in nature but also one of the most absurd and hilarious shows on.

The writing on this show is very interesting because none of the characters can actually say what they want to say, it is all disguised such as a politician’s word choices would be. And bringing that veiled rhetoric into a family dynamic makes for an exploration of power and manipulation. The writing is also significant for doing something called by the cast, “the language of strength” which is using aggressive and sexually charged language frequently, this is used both in the company and within the family as both intimidation and to show off. There’s really a lot to dissect in word choice and meaning in this show and for that reason it is fascinating.

2. Hannibal

This was another show I didn’t expect to like but was pleasantly surprised by. This show ended its series in 2015 but it has always been a cult favorite and has been receiving renewed attention as of late and all I can say is thank god. This is a brilliant show both visually and story-wise. As I watched the first season I felt like I was stepping into a different world of just complete madness, and the show is really escapism in that way even though it features horrific deaths every episode. While I don’t think this is the best written show out of all the ones listed here, and I do think it expresses itself more through visual prose rather than words it is still reminiscent of a dark epic poem. 

The show follows FBI consultant Will Graham as he investigates a series of grisly murders and comes across the path of notable psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter (also notable cannibal and serial killer). The writing is very interesting due to it’s plentiful of metaphors. In regards to the main relationship between Will and Hannibal the distinctions between wanting to “eat” one’s love and wanting to be with them are really interesting and the word choices made can only be called poetic. 

3. Atlanta

I went on a Donald Glover kick after finishing Community and I’m so happy I did because it led me to this show. Many have called this show “what TV could be” and it really is. This show starts off simply enough with the story of Earn trying to become a music agent for his cousin, the rapper Paper Boi. But the show delves deeply into the surreal in order to illustrate its points about poverty and being black in America. 

The writing on this show bucks traditional story structure completely with each episode being more of a “day-in-the life” rather than a continuous plot driven towards a goal, this allows for much more experimentation but also the feeling that no matter what the characters do they’re going to get weighed down in some way or other. This disregard for classic show structure also bleeds into the genre, it’s hard to solely classify this show as a comedy because there are so many elements of horror, drama, and satire within it. The writing is overall beautiful, heartbreaking, and hilarious. This show is a must watch as it is probably the best thing on TV right now.

4. Ramy

This show is the spiritual successor to shows like Atlanta and Fleabag who have paved the way for this new brand of comedy show, often focused around a single character as they try to better their lives. Ramy is a show about a Muslim- American milennial who is trying to get more in touch with his religion, thinking that it will help him to get his life on track. While the humor can be brass and the story lines can get pretty weird and disgusting the first word I think of with this show is delicate. 

Especially in its second season, which has moved away from Ramy’s perspective to focus on the rest of his family. The writing in this show can swing from a really fragile sense of beauty to super crass and sexual in the blink of the eye, which makes it so hilarious and interesting to watch. The writers have complied a series of character studies under the guise of a TV show, and watching this family deal with issues of assimilation, lost dreams, religion, and loneliness makes the watcher feel deeply connected to them.There’s a lot of stuff happening in this show that is very fragile but very moving and also hilarious.

5. The Great

This show is chaos embodied. From excessive violence, sex, and rampant and ridiculous abuse of power this comedy which is extremely loosely based on Catherine the great’s life is a real ride. It was created by the writer of The Favourite and interacts with absurdity and power in similar ways.

The writing is really interesting because it is so crass. In that way it is meant to be humorous but also terrifying. Many things in this show act in more than one way- Peter (Russia’s emperor) is terrifying, ridiculous, and lovable sometimes all within a single scene. And this ability to be all of these things makes this a very good examination of power.

6. Veep

This is how you do a villain arc. Perhaps the best and most honest show about American politics Veep focuses on Selina Meyer, the first female Vice President who is surrounded by the most competent incompetent people and virtually powerless and unfulfilled in her job. Throughout the seven seasons we follow her through presidential campaigns and personal woes all in classic dark comedy style. While this show is first and foremost a comedy it is not afraid, as it’s ending shows, to dig into dark themes and character exploration of a narcissist with a bottomless thirst for power going after the highest office in the country.

This show predates the Trumpian era America currently finds itself in but much of it’s subject matter and even specific plot points have come to be echoed in our current history. Such as an election depending on the results out of Nevada and a politician’s base protesting to “Count the vote” and “Stop the count”. This just proves that the show is so in-touch with the reality of American politics (even when the show was just a satire rather than the bleak truth). This is a perfect dark comedy with excellent, well-crafted characters, and solid plot points. Definitely a must watch for anyone.