#But I hope people see this and either go “oh shit I gotta learn more about the world around me”

[averagefungus]

Ill give my answers here, but don't cheat! Thats why theres a read more under here

Romania is in south eastern Europe, specifically situated inbetween Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, Moldova, and the black sea!

This area of Europe is landlocked from the atlantic and arctic oceans. Here people must reach the ocean from their country via the Black, Adriatic, or Argentinian Sea to enter the Mediterranean Sea and thus exit out the Gibralter Strait. This is a handicap compared to the countries of Europe bordering on the ocean, who gained strong influence overseas and empire status, like France, Portugal, Spain, Germany, Britain, and etc. Southeast Europe is much closer or even overlapping with the ancient greek empire over the different seas, as seen with the empire at its absolute largest. Topologically, the area seems much more elevated and rough in the terrain as compared to Northwest Europe, excluding Serbia, Hungary, and the top half of Croatia, which appear to be the bottom of a bowl with the round elevation around them.

The 1989 revolution happened over the course of a week, starting on Decemeber 16th in Timisoara and flaring up dramatically on the 21st, when the current ruler Ceausecu gave a terrible speech that hundreds of thousands booed at. The next day, the National Salvation Front announced its existence and intention on seizing power. After Ceausecu and his wife were captured and executed, the NSF took ahold. However, two things that make this suspicious as a coup and not a revolution, is first that the NSF was founded ONE DAY after when Ceausecu would have been directly affected by the revolution, and that when the NSF took power, it dissolved on February 6th... 1990.

I am trying to be as thorough as possible here, using multiple sources, going beyond wikipedia and onto the internet archive alongside other organizations who serve educational purposes. However, what I have gained from this obsessive quirk of mine is that if you have to ask if the CIA was involved, then the answer, 99/100 times, is yes, the CIA was involved.

The immediate effects from the installment of the NSF were nearly nothing. Economical and living conditions either continued to deteriorate, or staggered around where they were under Ceausecu, as could be seen with an annually decreasing GDP from 1990-1996. The peoples lives hadn't improved at all.

The United States Government had already planned upon what action to take when Ceausecu would pass/die, advising the then president Reagan on what course the USA should take. When the socialist government was implemented, the United States took great care to groom it into being an economic source of labor and an appealing market to manufacturers. The BIT signed in 1992 and then enacted in 1994, advised to be enacted as soon as possible by George Bush, is evidence of this. This would serve a similar relationship between the United States and China, giving the US great control in exchange for financial support. https://www.state.gov/investment-affairs/bilateral-investment-treaties-and-related-agreements/united-states-bilateral-investment-treaties/ You can see when the investments started happening in the next link, the moment the BIT from the united states was enacted, 1994. https://www.macrotrends.net/global-metrics/countries/ROU/romania/foreign-direct-investment'>Romania Foreign Direct Investment 1960-2024. www.macrotrends.net. Retrieved 2024-06-09.

7. Romanian wages are kept low as to keep production costs cheap for businesses, who are often sourcing this labor overseas. How low?

That low. The United States specifically set this up as our business would experience economic prosperity at the cost of human life.

8. This question has already been answered, the United States set up Romania as a target of new markets and labor when the new government was created. Romania as a country was already struggling back in the 90s and it seems to have continued to this very day.

9. The previously existing industrial industries of Romania were divided into two sectors, the 30% and the 70%, 30% of which being available for purchase by foreign investors and the other 70% state sanctioned. However, privatization is a valuable, profitable practice and proved itself to be more and more influential in negotiations which ultimately hurt the economy of Romania, and thus its people.

10. I hate to sound like a pretentious prick but fortunately none of those characteristics apply to me. They have in the past, but I hope I have shown at least a slight want to grow, at least a strong hatred of the united states, and hopefully a desire to show others the joys of learning about the world. Unfortunately, these stereotypes are not without basis. And if you are living in the United States, reading this, depersonalize for a moment. Understand that this could apply to you, but is not about you. It is about the systemic issues plaguing us.

My country is deeply, deeply ignorant and we are taught when young that the United States is so powerful and important that we will be born here and die here without ever needing to leave. This country is powerful, but instead of learning the raping we've committed to the world around us, of the Caribbean, the Central and South Americas, Asia, Southeast Europe, we learn of our many erotic, wonderful, justified wars and our new generation of gods known as the founding fathers. We treat our own states as individual countries, and these phony, surface level rivalries as our important news while our country terrorizes those who hold no power over their situation. The United States presents itself as the only important place in the world, and we believe that. Not as an important place in the world, but the only important place in the world. And then we ask why the world hates us. People here are angered by the term Usamerican, because that means they aren't the default anymore. We're not in a bubble innocent because of our ignorance when confronted by the term "Usamerican".

Hello usamericans. Before you are permitted to engage with me on how much of a condescending and rich and gross European I am, I would like you to very quickly answer a quiz about my home country of Romania. Don't worry, this is an open book quiz. You may not use Wikipedia articles full of "citation needed".

Question 1. Point the location of Romania on a map. Where in Europe is it? [10 points]

Question 2. List three basic facts about this region of Europe and how it differs from the rest of the continent. [15 points]

Question 3. What happened during the 1989 coup? What reason might there be to call it a coup instead of a revolution? Hint: it has to do with the National Salvation Front and the length of its existence. [12 points]

Question 4. Was the CIA involved? [1 point]

Question 5. What were the immediate economic effects upon the general population and on national industry? [10 points]

Question 6. How much involvement did the US have in "advising" the early post-socialist Romanian government? What reasons did the US have to encourage the Romanian government to adopt a policy of 100% foreign ownership of investments? [10 points]

Question 7. Why are Romanian wages kept so low? [ 2 points]

Question 8. Why have Romania's resources and industry been bought by foreign companies so cheaply? [5 points]

Question 9. If Romania had a powerful industrial base of industrial production, where did it go after 1989? [5 points]

Question 10. In your own words, describe why you believe your country is the centre of the universe and people hate it for no reason, why you are so incurious about the world around you as an adult with internet access, and lastly, why do you get so mad when someone refers to you as usamerican instead of just American (a demonym that applies to two whole continents)? [30 points]

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, my love! I gotta ask for my Stevie boy... will you do one where reader is head over heels for Steve but is positive that he's dating Robin? I think it'd be funnier if Robin found out about the crush and just immediately shut that shit down 🤭🤭

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it, my love 🫶🏻 I believe I wrote all the correct pronouns! Thank you for requesting

Single

Y/N was just like most people, falling in love with Steve Harrington. It almost felt impossible to not fall for his charm and shy smile. They could get lost for days in his brown eyes, or trace the moles on his face.

They didn't exactly know him, just another admirer from the sidelines. Even if they were confident enough to say something, they were positive he had a girlfriend. He was always with this pretty brunette, with shiny blue eyes and freckles. They had seen them together a hundred times, and they never seemed to be apart.

The girl was pretty, and Y/N was jealous of that. They have spoken to Steve a few times. His personality was just as attractive. He was easy to have a conversation with and he made them laugh all the time. They even felt like Steve flirted with them a few times. Certain glances, light touches, and a hinting smile. But that could have been them getting their hopes up.

Y/N walked into the video store, and to their prayers, Steve stood at the counter.

"There they are, my favorite customer," Steve greeted them with a big smile.

"Had to come see my favorite worker," They joked back, walking up to the counter.

"Dingus, your turn to clean the bathrooms," Robin said as she walked up, Y/N finally learning her name as she read the name tag.

"Wait for me?" Steve asked, giving them a small wink as he walked away.

Y/N felt their face burn and nodded. They didn't notice that they were staring at him as he walked away until Robin spoke up.

"Got the hots for Harrington, huh?" She teased, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows.

Y/N's eyes snapped to her, fear in their eyes. "No! NO, not like that." They tried to laugh it off but Robin looked at them unconvinced. "I know he's with you and I respect that."

Y/N watched confused as Robin began to laugh. She was laughing so hard that tears were coming out of her eyes.

"Oh no, immediately no," Robin said through laughs. "That boy is all yours to go after."

"Really? You guys are just friends?" Y/N asked, needing the clarification as their heart raced.

"Yeah, not sure how I found myself friends with the doofus, but he's painfully single. So please, go ask him out so I can have some peace." Robin groaned, planting her head in her hands dramatically.

"Bathrooms are done!" Steve cheered. A smile on his face as he leaned on the counter. "What are we talking about?"

"About how painfully single you are," Robin smirked. Steve gave her a "Are you kidding me" look. Robin just smiled and walked off.

"I'm sorry about her, and I am not painfully single. Just a basic single." Steve clarified, laughing off his red cheeks.

"Well either way I hear you are single," Y/N smiled. They reached over the counter and grabbed a pen. Steve watched as they grabbed his hand, the soft pen tickling his palm. "So give me a call," they said, clicking the pen.

Steve stared in awe at the numbers on his hand, barely noticing them walk away.

"I'LL CALL YOU!" He yelled after them, the other customers turned to look and he blushed more.

Y/N laughed and walked out.

Robin wasn't so bad after all

[allwormdiet]

Hive 5.9

Don't worry everyone, dragons are notoriously easy to defeat with little harm done, right?

Taylor's attempt at bravado is very humorous, if dramatically misplaced

Also Sundancer I'm so sorry you have to catch up so fast on Skitter stuff, but this is what you deal with in Brockton Bay

I dunno Taylor, I get that the objective here is that the ABB gets taken down, but are you sure the correct answer here doesn't involve Kaiser getting his stupid pointy ass cooked inside that armor?

Snark aside, this isn't a fully incorrect complaint to have about a teammate who's like. Not fighting. On a mission where you kinda all gotta fight. Like I know why Sundancer's not doing it, but that didn't get explained in much detail to anyone else

Skipping the part where Kaiser does his thing because he's a fucking Nazi and he doesn't get called "cool" or "interesting" he gets called a fucking Nazi

What I'd give for the shoe to be on the other foot here, but alas

Taylor, I love the noble intentions thing, your dedication remains as admirable as ever, however: he's a fucking Nazi. You're not spinning the "it's bad to murder people" idea this time.

Yeah yeah yeah! There we go! Use the friendly fire power while the Nazis are in the blast zone! Perfect! Sundancer I forgive everything, you're great

please don't make me eat those words later

Jesus fucking Christ that is hot

Guess that's proof Lung isn't totally immune to fire though

Yeah that

Fucking Nazi scumbag idiot.

Kaiser dies, right? There's no way he comes out of this story in one piece. I hope it's undignified. I hope his own spikes pin him in the Family Guy death pose.

What a great fucking sell on this moment, Jesus Christ

Oh no.

Ohhh no.

Taylor you are so fucking brave and that is a problem

Ho-ho-holy fuck this is so dire, it's great but also horrific.

See, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the mistake that's gonna keep getting made here, and I'm pretty sure Lung's not even gonna get the worst of that. He's, y'know, still alive by the end of this.

Totally forgot about Newter's hallucinogen the first time I was reading this fight. So fucking cool as a detail.

So I joked back in Arc fucking 1 that either Lung was going to keep getting his eyes fucked up or Taylor was going to keep going for the eyes. I didn't expect to get more data for those at the same fucking time, but here we are I guess

God that's nasty, also incidentally not how eyeballs would come out, learned that by hanging around discussions of Naruto's plug-and-play magic eyes

(Short version is that the eye tissue would give up before the optic nerve would, so any eyes you yanked out would be. Less than whole.)

Oh thank God, I'd wondered about that actually

Nazi capes fuck off!! You tell em Taylor

If this isn't the vibe of Taylor interacting with other capes outside the team, I'll eat my hat.

Current Thoughts

Hoooooooly shit what a fucking chapter

What a fight, what a display, what an interwoven dance of stupid and clever and desperate and resolute

Taylor is only getting more brutal over time and I think she's gonna notice the blood on her hands (literal or otherwise) even less as she goes

Leaving it here for tonight, finish the arc tomorrow and keep this train a-rolling.

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

There was literally no excuse for the way Simon and Soap were the stupidest fucking people together. And only together. They are skillful soldiers, they always complete their mission. But holy fuck, take them out? Put them on a damn leash. It’s like two dogs trying to look at everything whilst on a walk.

Nothing could prepare Gaz for the way Price genuinely says shit like “whoopsies” “We’re in a bit of a jam, huh?” “Uh oh”. Kinda like if he was talking to a little kid. Gaz didn’t know why he used those kinds of words, here’s this special forces captain whom he thought was stone cold; apparently that only applies on the battlefield.

Alejandro’s mind was completely empty, watching Ghost, Soap and Gaz attempt to learn more Spanish. Soap couldn’t roll his R’s, Gaz sounded American whilst attempting to say a word that had been troubling him. It was Ferrocarril. Railroad. Ghost thought that turning Spanish subtitles on his show would help. It didn’t. “Joder, sois estúpidos de cojones..” (Holy shit, you guys are stupid as fuck..).

If Soap is mad, he won’t hesitate to scream. Yell. Only if it’s in the comfort of his home. Captain Price once came over and thought Soap was being attacked. No. He burned his breakfast. Running into the kitchen, gun in hand, he watches Soap pop more toast into the toaster. “Hope my eggs won’t get cold.” “Fuckin hell, Soap. I thought you were dying.” “No, I burned my toast.” “Fucks sake.”

Ghost genuinely cannot go a week without wreaking havoc. Scaring the shit out of people. He likes scaring the new young soldiers, ones who think they’re all that because they got into the military. That is, until Ghost comes up behind them, a heavy hand on their shoulder. “You ever been on the battlefield?” Said in a voice deeper than he’d normally go, but it was funny as shit to him, watching the soldiers jump and then looking straight into their eyes, watching as they attempt to politely disengage in the conversation.

Alejandro frequently plays video games, hard ones that he gets up on his high horse talking about “How hard can a Videojuego be?” (How hard can a video game be?” …Until he is red with rage, veins popping out of his forehead, hands shaking and squeezing the controller so tight that Rudy thought it was going to break. “No es tan grave, Alejandro ..” (It’s not that serious, Alejandro..” he says, getting more and more quiet as he spoke. Alejandro looked back at him, throwing the controller into the wall (denting it.) “You try then, Pendejo.” He says in a dark, creepy ass voice.

The teams genuine reaction when Gaz pulls out a book on the helicopter and starts reading is fucking insane. “Reading?” Ghost comments, wide eyed and sounding astonished. “I mean, the flight will be long. Might as well” He says, shrugging. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’, Gaz.” Soap scans Gaz’s eyes, looking for any humor in them. None. He was completely serious?? “Well, nothin wrong with a bit of reading, yeah boys?” Captain Price reads the room—“..You guys seriously don’t read? Ever?” “Why the fuck would we read-“ they both chirp in unison.

Captain Price is either over dressed or under dressed for the occasion. Why are you wearing a suit at Christmas dinner…And why are you wearing shorts and a Metallica shirt to church…Sometimes Gaz helps him dress so that he won’t look out of place. Has to take him out shopping since he’s rarely in normal clothes, I mean he’s got his gear and a civilian outfit (STRICTLY a civilian outfit.), maybe four shirts, a few pairs of shorts, three pairs of jeans, and a pair of sweatpants. Which wasn’t exactly bad, but for church that just will not do, Captain!!!

Soap has no social anxiety. He’s loud when he laughs, talking with random men at the bar, telling his story to some guy named Daniel who he just met 13 minutes ago. Which for the record, Daniel thinks Soap is fucking awesome. Holy shit dude, you’re a special op? Yeah that’s not something you see everyday. Him and Daniel now meet at the bar a few times per week when Soap is given the green light to do so.

[ferrocyan]

ffxiv write day 10 - stable

yaana startles herself awake. she rubs her eyes and rolls her shoulders, wincing in pain from how she slept on it. she checks her watch: 1:40 am. she stayed to wait for tart, but the backroom is still empty. what the hell, did he leave without her? though honestly, knowing the guy he'd probably settle in and take a nap too. not that she'd even meant to sleep here, yaana grumbles to herself.

souleater had his bout against brute bomber yesterday, so of course yaana attended as tart's second. then there was the championship ceremony, and--eutrope crashing that event to challenge tart to a fight. shit, too much happened in such a short time. yaana hasn't seen eutrope again, either--she almost hopes her sister would come see her here, but the idea scares her at the same time. what would they even say--

never mind that! her missing partner is more important right now. after a match, contestants can visit arcadia's medical wing to recuperate--injuries don't usually stick around after coming down from oversoul, unless they're really severe. like losing limbs and stuff... tart had all of his intact, she thinks. although it's not like he had oversoul to begin with--

"shit," yaana gets up and books it to medical. there's no way anyone can fight eutrope and walk away without injuries, not even souleater!

the arcadion is eerily quiet, completely absent of people. yaana hates it. she always used to ignore her parents' warnings and sneak out to visit here, just to see eutrope train. the place is supposed to be open at all hours and have visitors crowd its halls. spectators waiting for the next match, employees keeping the show running, fighters training or holding exhibition matches--there's not even any exhibition matches anymore! not since king zoraal ja's decree. it still pisses yaana off, even after the king's dead.

she arrives at the medical wing quickly, and her irritation isn't helped by the attending physician she sees. ugh, great. she greets the woman, "hey, mel."

"hi, cat," replies dr. melantha. "here for your pal?"

"yuppers. is he good?" yaana approaches her at her station, with tart lying unconscious on the bed to its right. there's a number of electrope sensors attached to his body, but not much else, so he's probably just being observed right now. mel gives an affirmative, and with her unspoken permission yaana glances at the patient chart on her desk. her stomach drops.

in studying about personal training and fitness yaana learned a lot about human bodily functions (some from mel, she's gotta admit). she can intuit how different conditions can feel from her experience, too. and just looking at what happened to tart gives her a chill that runs down her spine. 'he should be dead' is putting it lightly. "...that's not good," she says weakly, to which mel shrugs. "he's got levin sickness?"

"a minor case, perhaps? his circuits would've kept deteriorating otherwise, but the vitals are all good now, see. oh, and do you want to hear something interesting?" mel starts excitedly. being from a family of machinists she has a habit of going off on likening her patients to machinery, so yaana waits until she concludes in a way that makes sense. "...which means souleater has near perfect control of his aether! as long as he's conscious, i assume, since it all fell apart the second he collapsed. neat, huh?"

"huh," yaana echoes. she's really familiar with the concept of aether control, of course--that's the same principle under feral soul enhancement. but the thing keeping that control isn't the person, it's their regulator. fighting an opponent with feral oversoul is less about killing them and more about chipping away that control--this is extremely obvious even to an amateur if they just watched souleater's matches. she glances at tart. "then that makes his body itself the regulator."

fuck, no wonder he doesn't need one to fight. this fucker has the final word on when he dies. yaana shakes her head. unbelievable. does wearing a regulator make you give up this control? is she now disconnected from her own aether, relying on the device to keep her soul and body connected? ...and is that bad?

something at the bottom of the chart catches her eye. oh, son of a bitch--yaana snaps towards mel, "you marked him green?"

"hm? oh, yes. he's stabilized, after all, and i've fixed the wounds. is there a problem?"

"nope," yaana says instead of yelling at her. she's even smiling. "hey, so that means we can leave, right?"

"no." yaana sees it dawn on her. "cat, i'm just following protocol," mel reasons. yaana shrugs.

"and i'm following mine." she walks around the station to reach tart and shake him by the shoulder. "wake up, buddy. heeeey. can you hear me?" it takes a while, but he opens his eyes and slowly comes back to himself. yaana doesn't stop talking to him as she packs his belongings. "you feel okay? you can stand, right? awesome, let's ditch this place!" mel gives yaana a look, but she lets them go.

as she steps outside with her partner in tow, yaana exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding. for the first time in her life she feels relieved to be out of the arcadion.

[abiiors]

okay so while we’re on the topic… i’m a newer fan of the boys, i actually got tickets to one of their concerts back in october when they were touring in america from my aunt even though i had never really been a fan of them (her heart was in the right place ��😭 bc i do listen to a lot of music that’s like in their sphere ig?? and i’ve been to festivals that they’ve performed at so i can see why she would’ve thought to get me those tickets, i just never really listened to their music before) but i went to the show regardless bc hello free concert tickets?? would have been a sin to let them go to waste tbh and oh my god am i so glad i did, it was actually one of the best shows i’ve ever been too!! especially considering i only really knew their popular songs?? like robbers, somebody else, aaaand it’s not living if it’s not with you

ANYWAYS that being said, since i had never really followed them before i always pretty much ignored anything i saw about them on twitter and stuff, mainly the negative things said abt matty bc not my faves, not my business?? but i gotta ask someone who’s been a fan of them for a lot longer than i have, what iiiis the deal with all the “matty healy racist” “matty healy homophobic” “matty healy [insert smth hateful here]” rhetoric??? bc from what i’ve seen of him after getting to know more abt the band he doesn’t appear that way at all?? like were there things he said that were taken out of context??? what’s up with the nazi accusations??? also homophobic??? is twt not aware of what he did in malaysia?? also straight men that are homophobic would never have the kind of close male friendships that the band have with one another… it seems like he’s twitter’s scapegoat tbh but idk i’m simply so confused and anything i find online trying to explain it all seems very biased based off the language they use so if you can/would like to… pls help 😭

okay first of all, welcome to the fandom!! i'm so glad you're here and i'm so glad you got to see them live!! they genuinely are so so incredible <33

now onto the questions!

i won't say matty's a saint. he's definitely done things in the past that are disappointing (to me at least, as well as to many others on here). last year he went on a podcast called the adam friedland show where many tasteless jokes were made about japanese people, the porn website ghetto gaggers, ice spice as well as countless other tastelss things were said.

now i really really want to clarify that matty never made those jokes but he did laugh along to them which is also a shitty fucking thing to do. he's since said that he was advised not to go on the podcast by people close to him and he still did it. however, he's also publicly apologised to ice spice and she's also said that the 1975 are one of her fav artists.

in may of 2023 he started allegedly dating taylor swift (i still don't believe it, i still think they either just made music or they just fucked or both) which exposed him to a whole new level of fame that was unprecedented. and the swifties are... rabid, to say the least. they made fun of his appearance, his past addiction issues, hoped he would have a relapse and die, all sorts of horrendous stuff. they discovered the podcast which was pretty fresh at the time and the whole thing spiralled into him being labelled a racist, homophobe, transphobe, pedophile, nazi, you name it, he was being called it.

however literally NONE of it was backed by evidence (but i don't expect people whose sole source of information is twt to realise that)

they have clearly never learned what a nazi is. i'm not even going to try to debunk that here because i feel like it would be insulting to your intelligence

he's not homophobic or transphobic, he's literally an ally to the point of being a fruity lil shit. he's been banned from 2 countries (dubai and malaysia) for openly supporting queer rights. they were also briefly jailed in malaysia for the stunt they pulled and had a lawsuit filed against them. he's even won ally of the year at the diva awards in 2019

literally every single fan who's ever met him has had nothing but amazing things to say about him. he's been incredibly kind and sweet to people

the band has always been openly political and vocal about their beliefs

you're absolutely right about him being the twitter scapegoat because unfortunately that's exactly what it is </3

i hope that clears things up tho, i'm sorry this is so long!!

[bazzybelle]

Trope Grading

Omg I kept seeing this on my dashboard and I was hoping to get tagged! Thank you @seiya-starsniper for tagging me, love! :D

Ok so, I'm not picky at all when it comes to tropes and fun things to write and read, so expect most of these to be in the positive range. Also, slight disclaimer, no one's gonna like the same things. What I'm obsessed with may not work for others and that's OK!

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don't care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: +3

So I'm usually not a fan of large age gaps. I find them rather squicky irl, and I'm not very keen on clicking fics that contain them. That being said, if I happen to read a summary that sounds interesting to me, or if the fic is by a writer I enjoy, I'll most likely read it.

I will most likely not write anything involving age gap though, unless a friend asks me to.

Codependency: +5

I like fics that start out this way. Where the two people cannot function without the other. However, if this leads to them finding independence WHILE still needing the person in their life, yesssssss! Having a character learning to be happy on their own and on their own terms is the good shit for me.

That being said, both Dreamling and SnowBaz have some of the most co-dependant fuckers I've seen. They're so much fun to write though. :D

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +5

This depends on the level of intensity, and whether it becomes toxic or not. I will not read a fic that involves the main pairing being abusive towards each other. If it becomes dark towards each other, I'm clicking out. That being said, the "No one gets to touch you, but me" or "No one gets to have dirty thoughts of you" shit is so fucking GOOD.

Both Dreamling and SnowBaz have this shit and I eat it up every single time.

And yes, I will GLADLY write this. No questions asked.

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +10

Oh yesssss!!!! Love love love this trope! It's so much fun to read how different authors decide to tackle this. Will the dark one find reasons to be sunshiny? Will the sunshiny one learn how to cope with darkness as it comes and goes? How does their dynamic work? How do they deal with other people? So many possibilities! Love it!

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +50

Hi, hello! This is my JAM. I think every major fandom I've been a part of had some sort of pairing like this, and each one was handled with perfection. Though Dreamling is less Enemies to Lovers, and more Acquaintances to Friends to HOPEFULLY LOVERS.

However, I also live in the Carry On fandom, and my fam from there will tell you that Simon and Baz are perfect Enemies to Lovers! It's just such a fun trope to see tow people going from absolutely HATING each other, to being madly in love.

They DO say that there is a fine line between love and hate.

Friends with benefits: +5

This can be a REALLY fun trope to play around with. I haven't read many fics where they strictly stay as fuck buddies. Normally, they always progress to being in a relationship after developing FEELINGS. I would like to read a fic where they stay strictly platonic, and are happy staying as fuck buddies. Or maybe one ends up in a relationship and it's just... fine.

Sex to feelings: +5

See, this is what the FWB usually ends up becoming. So I'm marking it the same as the FWB. All of the FWB fics I've read eventually end up becoming this. Same with the Enemies with Benefits. Almost always, it ends up with one or both the characters developing feelings.

And I'm pretty happy with that, but it's gotta have a good plot attached to it as well.

Fake dating/relationship: +8

Ohhhh yes! I love a good fake dating story. The underlying angst over one loving the other (because it ALWAYS happens) coupled with the fear of being Found Out is so perfect.

Then you have the moment when Everything Is Revealed, and so you get more angst and pining until the eventual resolution.

Friends to lovers: +50

The amount of love I feel for the Enemies to Lovers is equal to the love I feel for Friends to Lovers. Enemies to Lovers is hot and heavy and good for writing those intense feelings growing into something positive. With Friends to Lovers, it's a bit of a slower burn, but nice because your characters already have a good relationship. But oh no... one wants something different. What if their friend doesn't feel the same? What if it ruins everything?

Dreamling fandom has done this SO WELL.

Found Family: +5

YESSSSSSS! Ok look, if it's the only trope in the fic, then I'll probably skip it, unless it's got a really compelling plot attached to it. I am such a sucker for found family though. Where you have a rag tag group of outcasts and misfits who find comfort and love amongst each other... Yes, give me all of that.

Hurt/Comfort: +10000000000000000000

THIS IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE TROPE! BAR NONE! END OF STORY!

The fucking AAAAAAANGST with one partner being hurt and the stress with wondering if they'll be ok and be reunited with their partner.

Then the soothing balm that comfort provides... Ughhhhh yes. Give me that shit NOW.

Let it known, that I will ONLY read a hurt/whump fic, if there is AMPLE comfort as well. Beat up your characters, but give them hugs and tea and bandaids after.

Love Triangle: -10

I am NOT a big fan of love triangles. Ok well... that depends. If it's an ACTUAL love triangle, where all three people have feelings for each other, I can get onboard. I have recently found that I really like reading poly fics.

However, if it's the type of bullshit where one person has two people fighting over them... it's a no for me. I'm not a fan of Love Angles (because that's what they are).

Poly, open relationships: +8

You know. I never really thought I'd end up liking poly ships as much as I do. It started when I got into AtLA, and saw a really well-written Zuko/Sokka/Suki fic. The writer just really convinced me that they all genuinely loved each other.

I guess it comes down to how well the author can convince me that they all have feelings for each other and are in a respectful relationship.

Convince me that no one is being mistreated and I'm down for reading your poly/open fic. :)

We all have two hands after all.

Mistaken/hidden identity: +1

I'm very meh with this trope. I don't know, it doesn't interest me as much as other tropes do. I mean, if you've got a good spy fic where one has to hide who they are on fear of death, I can vibe with that. If the stakes are raised, I can get on board with it. :)

Monsterfucking: +50

My favourite movie as a kid was Beauty and the Beast. I was UPSET when he changed into a prince.

I was obsessed with Twilight as a teen.

HI CARRY ON FANDOM!!!!

Yes, I am ALL for monster fucking. Go fucking WILD!

Pregnancy: +5

I'm not a fan of writing out the whole process of pregnancy, because frankly it terrifies me. But I do love the idea of unexpected pregnancy and kid-fics. They can be a lot of fun :)

Second Chance: +10

I am currently writing a medical second chance fic. And I am having so much fun writing it. I love second chance fics. Sometimes, people who are supposed to be together aren't together at the right time. Sometimes people need to grow before they're ready to be together.

The slow coming back to feelings after time is so sweet to read. Are the feelings still there after time has passed? Is it too late for us? Did we miss our shot? Is it worth jumping into love at this time?

Slowburn: +10000000000

Yesssssssssssss! Drag that shit out. Have the relationship develop slowwwwwwwwlyyyyyyyyy. Give me missed opportunities, and interrupted kisses. Give me pining and second thoughts, and uncertainty. Give me months of going back and forth.

Give me the Oh... OH moment!

Soulmates: +10

Soulmates are so fucking fun! And I have read so many good soulmate fics (heck, I even WROTE one). There are so many different ways you can portray two people being soulmates. And I'm not just talking about the way it presents, but also the type of soulmate. The fic I wrote had platonic soulmates. Soulmates who are connected and love each other but it isn't romantic. They're just each other's Person.

I would love to see this concept explored more (the fic I wrote had them as background characters), as well as other types of soulmates. Can you have familial soulmates? Sexual soulmates? Purely romantic soulmates? Friendly soulmates? Multiple soulmates? There are so many ways to play with this trope!

Tagging gently: @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @f-ing-ruthless-baz @amywaterwings @namistrella @ninemagicks @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @yellobb @windsweptinred @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @ic3-que3n @artsyunderstudy @j-nipper-95 @messofthejess @mentallyinvernation @spockandthings @mallory-x @nausikaaa @quellawrites @thranduilland @valiantstarlights

[valleygirlmukuroikusaba]

oh ok going back to esports group dynamics in canon v3 one more time bc this is eating at me

why the fuck do my non-narrative group dynamics make sense this shit is bizarre.. mumbles…..

sighs

anyways esports players

tsumugi and tenko have rigid thinking in common. which i cant hold it against them since it’s just what they know/learned.

they literally just need to compete with kokichi and kaede to build confidence and learn that there are like. other schools of thought

you can pretty much just trust people you don’t believe fully. just pick apart the intent and u kinda get the point

tenko basically just keeps getting confused at everyone because she can’t navigate nuance.

which is something she can learn if someone takes the time out of their day to teach.

which requires ppl go out of their way to speak clearly to tenko and not go criticize her for like everything she says bc like criticism isn’t useful for unlearning itll only hurt tenko’s confidence further.

tenko doesn’t particularly actually have a problem with anyone she just believes what she’s taught to be right because she doesn’t have confidence.

she immediately surrenders the moment himiko tells her to cut it out when himiko taking angie’s stead for “enacting discipline”

she’s basically someone in need of a good role model and her confusion towards angie is proof that kinda shows how tenko is in conflict with herself. angie isn’t fucking wrong just absent

now tsumugi’s hate for like rantaro and kokichi. is like uncalled for. yeah they don’t care about narrative whatever the hell they think suffering = bad

and tsumugi is like uhh gotta continue the killing game bc narratively it’s common to see suffering as obstacle ppl need to overcome to get better.

that they would be able to accept and comfort eachother from united suffering

and tsumugi is all abt that narrative stuff she wrote the backstories of everyone. she took her risks and while she was a good writer.

comfort is how one finds strength in a world of hurt. and that trust and love does find a way but it’s also.

exclusive

and it burns bright

so bright that if the flame is extinguished that even worse heartbreak is just around the corner

tsumugi either really loved or really hated the people she came in contact with.

because tsumugi. was lonely

she wanted people to love each other but also hate each other. fall in love with your enemies

and so she brings back hope vs despair. two sides of the same coin. that any attention she gets. positive or negative are just as valuable to her

applaud, praise, ridicule, criticism.

resentment.

no matter what response she got she would take it.

that she would quit and leave something so bizarre left up to interpretation that would mean that if the audience were willing to criticize tsumugi

they would criticize eachother. for having different takes on the worlds most weirdest esports game with a narrative that doesn’t FEEL right

and feeling alone and angry at the game for fucking her over would spread. but she also wanted to spread love to those who found comfort in her work

she’s reaching out to the audience who feels alone. how she felt alone being surrounded by others that she couldn’t open up to because shes the mastermind

tsumugi seeing tenko surrendering under other people’s refusal to talk to her in a way she can learn from her mistakes

tenko’s death basically confirmed tsumugi’s fears. that if she ever stepped out of her shadow she would be criticized and punished

and . tsumugi might of had more confidence than tenko. but seeing tenko so rejected. tsumugi was afraid of rejection and that she would have to keep the killing game going.

lest she step out of line and get caught. tsumugi just wouldn’t allow it.

tsumugi really wanted to be with the others she really did

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

The scene where Ed says he never apologized for anything is basically framed by scenes where various crew members stress that they were never apologized to (notably these are Revenge crew people, not Ed's original crew). I always thought it was meant to be read as "look at all these pirates who are from a culture that doesn't do apologies". Does anyone think Hornigold apologized for anything ever to Ed? He clearly doesn't! No, he feels that killing a kid over taking food is just a thing that's done, tough life, gotta move on man. And yes, this Hornigold is in Ed's head and not real, but he's based on the real Hornigold Ed grew up sailing under and I don't think this part is exaggerated. And! We see other pirates not apologizing and being basically unfamiliar with the concept of apologies, forgiveness and second chances: Zheng and Auntie for example. Does anyone think the Pirate Queen goes around apologizing to her crew for things? Does anyone think Spanish Jackie goes around throwing out hugs and apologies? They don't do that! We get basically shown not a single character from the culture of piracy who has genuinely experienced apologies!

And I always thought that's so transparent and obvious, and that it's also obvious that the scene with Ed isn't only meant as "oh look he's learning a new thing" (which is good btw!) but also as "oh fuck look at all of these poor guys (including Ed!) who never heard any apologies for anything".

Pirate culture is not good for you. I think this is something a lot of people misunderstood in season one, where we mostly get to see Stede's romantised look at pirate life. Season two shows us several other instances of normal pirate culture, from Zheng's ship(s) over Jackie to Ned Low and the guys at the Republic of Pirates, we are shown so many established pirates who aren't Ed, and all of them live this miserable life full of cruelty. S1 only hinted at why Ed wants out of piracy, S2 took people basically by the hand to go "hey look piracy bad!" And people did not get it! They instead decided that only Ed is bad, because he never apologized, obviously sucks as a person! And this is not at all the message the show is sending. Either everyone who is a pirate sucks, or they are all victims of a cruel world, including Ed, who was once a young pirate like various of the Revenge crew members are now, and who had to learn to play by pirate culture rules to survive, so no, he doesn't apologize to anyone ever and he doesn't have any friends. (Why do we think Calico Jack says pirates don't have any friends and only fuck each other over? It's because Jack too is from this culture of never being nice to each other and never apologizing, bit hard to make friends there!)

We see Ed get betrayed by several "friends" and peers: Izzy, Jack, Mary and Anne... Note how none of these people think about apologizing to him for any of it (except for Izzy on his literal death bed, which is several of betrayals in).

He says it so casually, but Ed never apologizing and never having heard an apology in turn, is a tragedy and I think it was meant to be read this way. We are supposed to be sad about it, just like we are supposed to be sad all the other pirates only knew this cruel culture before. We can also be hopeful for them, though, because all of them now have a chance to heal.

"I never apologized for jack shit as a pirate captain" is a statement about the role and station of pirate captain much more than a statement about Ed as a person.

Hey so I know that Ed says that as captain he never apologized for anything, but how often do you think anyone ever apologized to him? Not just a "sorry boss, we didn't find the loot," but a genuine, heartfelt apology from someone who really hurt him in some way? Because I'm willing to bet that before he met Stede, the last person who would've even thought to offer that to Ed was his mother who he hasn't seen in decades

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 hell week - abby anderson 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

based off request prompt: What do you think about them being in college and braving through finals together? Like, they've been working for hours and they collectively decide to encourage each other through it?

content: modern!au, college!au, established relationship, helping each other manage stress through finals, you and abby being caring gf's, LOTS of affection between you two, one sexual joke, abby being happy and sharing her sense of humor, lots and lots and lots of fluff, cuddling, use of pet names (babe, baby, love, etc.)

a/n: wowowow this was so cute to write ik its a little past finals week as the next semester has either begun or will be starting soon for ppl, but i hope reading about going through finals week and being domestic with abby is still heartwarming. i hope it can also be a comfort to be read again at a later time when its finals week again and you're stressed and need a moment to relax :) more than anything taking care of yourself during finals is the most important which is something i've barely learned and figured out how to do. anyways, now that i'm done lecturing, pls enjoy!!!!

“I think I’m going to drop out,” Abby announced. You snorted.

“Like hell you’d drop out,” you said back to her. You knew Abby was just being dramatic and complaining. Despite how draining the work was, you knew she loved her major and being in pre-med.

“No, I think I’m actually gonna do it this time. I’ll just scam people online for money. This medical shit just isn’t it. In fact, I think I’m gonna become the country’s most wanted con-woman.”

“What you need is a break from studying, not to drop out,” you advised. You leaned forward from across the table and closed Abby’s textbook and notes. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been studying hard enough. Don’t push yourself.”

“You’re right.” She shuffled some of her note cards in her hands absentmindedly. “Neither of us have taken a break in a while. My brain hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“You read my mind. I think the walk would be good for me.”

“Plus, we’ve done enough studying for a while. We can study more later tonight.”

“You’re a genius, [Y/N],” she grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” You rolled your eyes as you gathered your things together and shoved them in your backpack. Abby followed suit as the two of you prepared to leave the library. You checked your phone and saw it was around three o’clock, and you had both been there since before noon. Yeah, you both definitely needed the break.

“Tonight,” you started as you walked by Abby’s side, “we’ll study some more. I say we take a few hours to ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked flirtily. You hit her arm.

“Not like that! I meant we should decompress for a while. Eat, watch some TV, that kind of thing.”

“Physical activities are good for decompressing,” she countered.

“Oh, I’m sure they are to you. Look at you. You go to the gym, like, six times a week,” you joked.

“Five,” she corrected.

“See!” you exclaimed. The two of you finally exited the library, the sun’s warmth and beams hitting you. The warmth was delicious, and much better than the freezing Arctic inside the library.

“I thought you liked my physique. Some say it’s Grecian.”

The laugh spilled from your lips before you could even stop yourself. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”

“I think I’d be a Spartan,” she mused.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. Sparta’s no joking matter.”

“You are so—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Charming? Hilarious? I’ve heard it all before,” she said cockily. Before you could even respond you felt her hand slither close to yours and lace your fingers together. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. What’s closest?”

“That sandwich place you like is nearby. We just gotta walk past the art building and it’s right there.”

“Deal!” you agreed. Walking through campus was always enjoyable with Abby by your side. She made the weather less dull, the day less mundane. It was these little moments with her that you enjoyed the most. Sure, it’s boring everyday life, but she made it special. Abby swung your interlocked hands through the air as she matched your stride. Yes, you may have been in the middle of exams, but at least you had Abby by your side while you endured it. You enjoyed the small journey together, taking the time to admire the beautiful landscapes before you. The university had many trees planted around campus whose lush, green branches provided bountiful amounts of shade. There were squirrels roaming around searching for food, while only a few other students wandered around. For some finals week had barely begun, while others were going through the dregs of it.

Nearly everyone had coffee in their hands while they were dressed lazily—and none of them you could blame. Finals week tired you out beyond compare, and you still had a paper to complete tonight. Abby had two more exams to prepare for, while you only had one more in a few days. You were both just trying your best to make it through the week, both vowing to help each other whenever necessary. That included monitoring each other’s sleeping schedules, making sure you both stayed on task, and making sure above all you were both taking care of your health. That was the most important one seeing as the two of you had a streak for getting so involved in your studies you often neglected your well-being. It was a slippery slope, but when you had each other to look after one another, it made things somewhat easier.

“Hey,” you said to Abby suddenly. She glanced at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. “I’ll pay for lunch today.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah. My treat.” You squeezed her hand in yours, watching as a smile spread across Abby’s face. She looked radiant whenever she smiled.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” she teased.

“You know it.”

Lunch with Abby was just as calming and therapeutic as you thought it would be. Not only did it calm your nerves, but it gave both of your brains just the break they needed. You both took your time to eat, looking to enjoy each others’ presence and the food instead of rushing. After eating, the two of you decided to head back to your shared apartment rather than go to the library again.

“Do we have to start studying right away now that we’re home?” you asked her. Abby glanced at her watch. It was barely five, but she didn’t want you to stress yourself out more. In fact, she felt you deserved to rest more, instead.

“’Course not, babe,” she answered. “You’ve already been working hard enough. Let’s just watch something together.” Abby pulled together some blankets and set up her laptop for the two of you on your bed. Settling herself against the headboard with the blanket wrapped around her, she opened up her arms for you to join her. You quickly joined her, Abby wrapping the blanket around you as well. She pulled you close to her body, arms around you tightly, as you began to watch the show you binge watched together. Abby placed quick kisses against your cheek and forehead here and there, but still made sure to concentrate on the show before her. Despite this, you still managed to distract her and pull her into more heated kisses every now and then.

After a few episodes you asked Abby if she was ready to finish studying, and when she said yes the marathon ended. You sat at the small dinner table together, Abby turning through the pages of her textbook and making countless flashcards. You, however, pulled out your laptop and began working on your paper. It was due tomorrow at noon, so you wanted to be sure you got it done by tonight, even if it meant staying up extra late. You’d make that sacrifice if you had to. You wrote page after page, inserting your quotes, making arguments, for what felt like forever. However, you were still nowhere close to done. It was already past 10 P.M., and you had at least three to four pages left to do. After about twenty more minutes, Abby wrapped up her studying and announced she would take a shower.

“I’ll be back, love,” she said, giving you a small kiss before heading to the bathroom. You sighed as you heard the water start running. You knew it was going to be a while before you finished, but you’d have to bear it for the time being. You worked in a frenzy as the pressure of your final grade hung over your head. You just wanted to finish this assignment so the semester could finally be over. Abby finally returned from her shower after some time, rubbing the strands of her hair in her towel to dry it off.

“How’s the paper coming?” she asked. You shook your head.

“It’s coming,” you groaned.

“It’s getting pretty late. Are you almost done?”

“Hardly,” you answered. Abby came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. It helped to calm you somewhat, her hands managing to rub the spots that ached the most.

“Want me to stay up with you?” she asked softly.

“I’d like that,” you said. Abby finished massaging your shoulders and pulled out the seat next to you.

“I’ll stay here the whole time with you, baby, but let’s make a deal.”

“What is it?” you asked. You looked away from your screen and into your girlfriend’s eyes as she spoke.

“Before I tell you, what time is this paper due?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you answered.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll let you write a little bit more, but after midnight you’re gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”

“But I need to finish this,” you argued.

“Yeah, but you can’t tire yourself out, babe. You’re not pulling an all-nighter on my watch. We’ll wake up early together tomorrow and you can finish it, okay? So just do what you can tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“So, how much you got left?” she asked.

“About two to three pages,” you answered.

“I think you should write until you only have one page left. How does that sound?”

“Doable,” you responded. You turned back to your laptop and continued where you left off. Abby leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as you wrote. Usually you didn’t like having people watch you write, but with Abby it was different. You adored her and cherished her company. While she leaned on you, one of her hands rubbed circles onto your back absentmindedly.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to finish your paper in the morning,” she spoke up suddenly. “I just don’t want you to burn yourself out or stay up too late. I know how we both get when it’s finals, so I just don’t want either of us to make the same mistakes again, you know?”

“It’s okay, Abs. I don’t mind,” you reassured her. “To be honest, I kind of like it. It makes me feel cared for.”

“You’re very cared for,” she said, pecking your cheek. Finally, after about twenty more minutes of writing, you finally reached a stoppining point that wouldn’t be too hard to continue the following morning.

“Done!” you exclaimed. Abby smiled at you and shut your laptop for you.

“Good. Now do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You better not fall asleep,” you warned. You pecked her lips as you rose from the table to go take your shower. The warm water was calming as it soothed your joints and cleansed your body. Once you finished your shower and nightly routine, you found Abby waiting in bed for you. She had the blanket covering her legs as she read one of her books quietly. You crawled into bed carefully beside her and curled up into her side.

“Ready for bed?” Abby asked. She closed her book and placed it on her nightstand.

“Yeah,” you answered. Without another word Abby turned her lamp off and pulled you into her.

“Good night,” she whispered into your neck.

“Good night,” you said back to her. It wasn’t long before the two of you dozed off.

+ + +

“Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” You groaned as you wiped your eyes and they adjusted to the bright lights. She must have had the kitchen lights on and the blinds open like always since she was the morning person in the relationship. You could smell fresh coffee and feel Abby’s arms around your body. Her hand stroked your cheek as she whispered to you softly. “Come on. I’ve got your morning coffee ready. Just how you like.”

“For real?” you asked. Abby laughed at your response.

“Yes, now go wash up.” You groggily dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up, the cold water you splashed on your face waking you up. After you finished brushing your teeth, you wandered to the kitchen where Abby sat at the table waiting for you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Barely nine, so you have plenty of time to finish up your paper and edit,” she said. You came towards her and sat in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. Abby’s hands immediately found refuge around your waist as she rubbed them against the small of your back.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” you muttered into her shoulder.

“Well, thank you,” she said in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna finish my work,” you announced. You rose from Abby’s lap as she reluctantly pulled her hands away from your body. You pulled out your chair and grabbed the coffee mug Abby left out for you. It was exactly how you liked it, just as she said. After working for nearly an hour, you finally finished your paper and began editing it. That took close to another hour, and by then you were able to turn it in confidently. You let out a sigh of relief as you glanced at Abby beside you.

“All done?” she asked.

“All done,” you said happily. Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Happy to hear it. Wanna cuddle the rest of the day? I say we rest today since we have a couple more days till our next exams.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you answered.

[binart]

Hi Bina I love your art so much! You would always drop really good art/life wisdom during streams so I was wondering if you have any tips for ppl like me who don't feel very confident about their art? Sometimes I'll draw something and be like "ah yes my masterpiece oh la la" but then I'll post it and immediately feel a little bit like I'm not good enough to be doing this in the first place. Just shy art gurl tingz 👉👈 Any tips? Anyway I'm so invested in DTOK, can't wait to see what happens next! 💙❤

<333 THANK U!!! yes i have three excellent tips for this

ok so we're not going to pretend that internet validation isn't like.. THE BEST. because it is. yes sure validation from yourself internally should be the only thing we need to rely upon BUT WHO CAN ACTUALLY DO THAT??? not me if strangers don't tell me they like my gay little pictures SAID GAY LITTLE PICTURES DECREASE IN VALUE TO ME.

if you have any friends who you know will reliably gas you up, SHOW THEM YOUR PICTURES FIRST!!! i am a loser shut in with literally only one friend who i regularly show my stuff to, AND THEIR APPROVAL IS LIKE 8X THE SEROTONIN BOOST OF A STRANGER.

nextly, you must learn that People Love Fanart. you don't gotta make Da Vinci level stuff for people to love your fanart either ok. I AM AN EXAMPLE OF THIS. and if you can make a fair amount of it?? HOO BOY YOU'RE IN. YOU'RE GONNA GET THAT VALIDATION AFTER A WHILE. & tag your stuff so people can find it of course B^) so if u have a Piece of Media that you enjoy enough to make art of, DO THAT SHIT!!!

so that's two things you can do. the other thing, though very boring, is to put in the work to increase your technical skill. if you're able to motivate yourself to do this, confidence will come naturally as your skillset increases and you're able to more easily tackle illustrations that would have been much more difficult like a year ago. THIS IS HARD THO. i suggest finding things to get obsessed with so you feel naturally compelled to mAKE ART OF IT, since usually making a bunch of art helps you get better at.. making art. LOL

ANYWAY GOOD LUCK I HOPE YOU GET MUCH VALIDATION!

[chill-pills-yandere-haven]

Incorrect Quotes From the Sagau Programmer au!

An: I put some names into an incorrect quote generator and voila! Enjoy

Programmer au pt 3 should come out on the weekend, I hope.

For those who don't know what Programmer sagau is, basically, you are a programmer for mihoyo but you get isekaied into the world of genshin by the Sagau characters. The story for my programmer au is called "God is overworked, underpaid, and touch starved. Triple threat!"

:readmore:

*The squad is over at Programmer!Darling's house*

Araashita: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven?

Programmer!Darling: ... N-No...

Programmer!Darling, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Araashita, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought!

Venti: I see a-

Programmer!Darling, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Araashita: Oh, well I-

Programmer!Darling: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Programmer!Darling, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Kaeya: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Childe: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Programmer!Darling: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin!

Programmer!Darling: I am someone who owns four ovens...

Programmer!Darling, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS...

Programmer!Darling: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens...

Ei, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven!

Programmer!Darling:

Araashita: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Programmer!Darling:

Programmer!Darling, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS'

Can I copy the homework?'

Programmer!Darling: I can help you with it!

Araashita: Yeah, sure.

Venti: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Kaeya: lol nope.

Childe: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Ei: *Read 5:55pm*

*The squad right before Programmer!Darling's wedding*

Araashita: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.

Venti: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Kaeya: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well

Childe: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND

Ei, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

Programmer!Darling, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Araashita: Hey.

Venti: Hi.

Kaeya: Hello.

Childe: Hey!

Programmer!Darling: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Ei: We were out of Doritos.

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Programmer!Darling: Thanks fam!

Araashita: oh no

Venti: *cries* I love you too

Kaeya: Sounds fake but okay

Childe: *A flustered mess*

Ei: can i get a refund

Programmer!Darling: I CAN'T DO IT!

Araashita, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Programmer!Darling: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Venti: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Programmer!Darling:

Programmer!Darling: I appreciate it,

Programmer!Darling: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Kaeya: Programmer!Darling-

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Childe: Programmer!Darling we gotta-

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Programmer!Darling, motioning to Ei: NOT FUCKING THIS

Programmer!Darling: I'm incredibly fast at math.

Araashita: Alright, what's 30x17?

Programmer!Darling: 47

Araashita: That's not even close.

Programmer!Darling: But it was fast.

Programmer!Darling: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Araashita: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'.

Programmer!Darling: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Programmer!Darling, Araashita, and Venti are sitting on a bench

Kaeya: Why do you guys look so sad?

Programmer!Darling: Sit down with us so we can tell you.

*Kaeya sits down*

Araashita: The bench is freshly painted.

Programmer!Darling: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Araashita: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Programmer!Darling: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ZHONGLI WITH ME

Kazuha, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Programmer!Darling: What time is it?

Araashita: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Araashita: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Zhongli: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Araashita: It’s 2 am

Programmer!Darling: What do you think Araashita will do for a distraction?

Zhongli: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Zhongli: ... or they could do that.

Programmer!Darling: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Araashita: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Zhongli: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Araashita, learn to listen.

Kazuha: What if it bites itself and I die?

Childe: That’s voodoo.

Ei: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Araashita: That’s correlation, not causation.

Kazuha: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Childe: That’s kinky.

Programmer!Darling: Oh my God.

Programmer!Darling: Just be yourself.

Araashita: 'Be myself'? Programmer!Darling, I have one day to win Zhongli over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Kazuha: Couple weeks.

Childe: Six months.

Ei: Jury’s still out.

Araashita: See, Programmer!Darling?

Araashita: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

[andvys]

Longing (part 1)

Warnings: “enemies” to lovers type of thing, slow burn, cocky!ellie, alcohol consumption

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Ellie always thought you were the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her life, you had the most beautiful eyes, the way they would always get lighter in the sun and the way they would always light up whenever you were happy about something. She loved how you would always put your hair into a braid and would still have strands of hair fall in front your eyes, you’d always put them behind your ears only for them to get loose again and fall in front of your eyes once more. She loved how fierce and badass you are, always ready for any situation. You are one of the best fighters in Jackson despite your age. Having seen it herself when you patrolled together, you fought skillfully, making Ellie wonder about where you have learned to fight like that. Anytime something went wrong or someone would say something about hunters or a horde of infected coming Jackson’s way, you’d always be first to volunteer to go and get rid of them. The way you held yourself, Ellie was sure that you could actually get rid of a group of people before they’d even make it to the gates of Jackson. She would never underestimate you. You really were a fascinating person.

If you just weren’t such a bitch.

You were nice to everyone but to her, well except for Seth. Always getting into a fight with the older man.

You weren’t necessarily mean to Ellie but you weren’t exactly nice either, you were sarcastic and feisty with her and you loved to push her buttons but you weren’t as good at it as she was, Ellie always had the upper hand in your little banters and she teased the hell out of you, leaving you annoyed making her smirk every time. She’d also jokingly flirt with you or make dirty jokes, leaving you uncomfortable or at least that’s what Ellie thought. She just loved getting on your nerves.

Dina would always try to convince Ellie that you actually liked her and you just had a funny way of showing that. Ellie would laugh at that every time, she knew you had some sort of resentment towards her for whatever reason.

You wanted to be friends with the girl you really did but something about her annoyed the hell out of you and she made you feel weird. You constantly bickered like little kids and you seemed to have a stand off every time you were patrolling together. She just pissed you off.

“You going to the dance tonight kid?” Joel asked you. Right now you were cleaning the rifles and shotguns in the shed you kept them in. Having injured your shoulder while on patrol a few days ago you were off patrol for a few weeks. So you were assigned for keeping the weapons clean. You were annoyed at that, you had worse injuries before and still fought but Maria wouldn’t let you out, not wanting to risk your health. So here you were boring yourself to death, at least Joel came in to keep you company.

“Umm I don’t know, it’s not really my thing.” You said. Laying the rifle on the table you looked at the older man. Since he and Ellie came to Jackson he became something like a mentor to you. You respected the older man, you already learned more from him than your own father and he was there for you whenever you struggled with yourself.

“That’s what Ellie said too.” You avoided looking at him at the mention of Ellie. You thought, he assumed that you two must be friends, considering you’re in the same friend group. You didn’t even know they were talking again.

“She did?” You asked avoiding his eyes.

“Yes.” He studied your face. He was not stupid, anytime he’d bring up Ellie you got quiet and awkward same with Ellie she reacted the same way at the mention of you.

“Are you going?” You asked him, changing the topic quickly.

“Yeah and you should come too.” He said.

“We’ll see, do I get to have a drink?” You asked, giving him a hopeful smile. He never let you drink.

“Are you 21?” He asked giving you a pointed look.

“Ugh come on Joel, I’m 19 plus I’m allowed to blow up things and kill people and infected but I’m not allowed to have a drink every once in a while?” You said shaking your head.

Joel laughed at that “well maybe you can have a little.” He said.

“Finally, I wanna get drunk.”

“You’re allowed to drink but you’re not allowed to get drunk kid.” Joel said sternly.

“I’ll take what I can get.” Smiling at him. He got up and walked towards you, ruffling your hair.

“I gotta get going, I’ll see you at the dance.”

“Ugh, see ya.” You said annoyed at him for messing up your braid.

Stepping out of the little shed once you were done with your assignment you stood there enjoying the fresh air for a second after being in that shed all day.

Deep in thought you were looking down on your way home, not watching where you were going you ran into something or rather someone, almost falling down if it wasn’t the strong arms catching you by your waist, grabbing their arms you looked up at your savior only to realize that it’s Ellie still with her hands on your waist she had a cocky smirk on her face.

“Careful there (y/n), you almost fell for me.” Smirking at you.

You groaned at that, letting go of her arms you took a step back making her hands let go of your waist.

“Do you want me to escort you home? I don’t want you tripping and falling for someone else.” She said, teasing you

“No thanks Williams, now if you’ll excuse me.” You said, trying to walk past her only for her to step in front of you not letting you go yet, probably to annoy you some more.

“You going to the dance tonight?” Ellie asked. Studying your face.

“Yup.” You replied, looking down on your shoes, avoiding looking at her pretty face.

“Nice, I’ll be there as well.” Ellie said.

“I know, Joel told me.” Shit why did you just say that, you wanted to slap yourself now she knew you and Joel talked about her. Now she would think you’re interested in her, well you are but she doesn’t have to know that.

“Oh, talking about me with Joel when you could talk to me?” She teased.

“Whatever I’m gonna go now, see ya Williams.” You said, this time she stepped aside, letting you leave.

She watched you leave, deep in thought about you she didn’t notice Jesse appearing next to her, throwing an arm around her.

“Man you have it bad for our girl here.” Jesse said, smirking at her. He was aware of Ellie having some sort of feelings for you. It wasn’t hard to see that, Ellie always looked like a kicked puppy around you.

“Shut up, Jesse” Ellie said annoyed.

“She likes you too.”

“What?! No she doesn’t. I’m pretty sure she hates me.” Ellie said, looking down, she began walking away.

Jesse followed her. “She doesn’t hate you, I’ve seen how she acts around people she hates and you aren’t one of them.” He said.

“Well I- so what she likes me now?” She asked. Not believing that you could feel anything towards her but hate.

“She likes Dina and Joel or Tommy and Maria, I’m pretty sure she likes me too, I’m awesome.” Jesse smirked at the last part. “But you? I’d say there’s a little more than “like” Ellie.”

“Are you trying to tell me she has feelings for me?” Ellie laughed at that. Jesse was ridiculous and stupid if he thought you could have feelings for Ellie. Not that she didn’t wish for that but it was too good to be true.

“You know what they say about hate. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin.” Jesse confidently said.

Ellie laughed at that, “alright whatever.” She thought about that. She genuinely couldn’t see you liking her.

It was a little crowded at the dance once you got there. You usually avoided going to these things, not liking being around many people but Dina always made you come. Looking at you with her puppy eyes, you couldn’t say no to the girl.

Looking out for Dina and Jesse you weren’t able to find them. Huh she bugged you about being there on time but she herself wasn’t even here yet. Looking around you saw Ellie standing at the bar. You stared at her for a while.

Suddenly she looked your way, catching you staring at her she started smirking, rolling your eyes at her.

She waved at you to come over. You’d rather have Dina and Jesse be there as well, not trusting yourself to be around the girl without anyone around but you didn’t wanted to be alone so you walked over to her.

“Hey (y/n), if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were just checking me out from over there, that’s kinda creepy.” Ellie said with a teasing smile. Leaning against the bar.

Feeling embarrassed now you rolled your eyes.

“You wish, Williams.” You said sitting down on the bar stool next to her.

“What if I do?” She asked you, smirking.

“I- um.” Not knowing what to say you quickly changed the subject. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you something, wait here.” She left you alone.

“Alright, thanks I guess.”

Coming back she gave you the drink. Taking it from her hand your fingers touched for a second, avoiding her eyes you took a sip of the drink. Almost coughing at the taste, Ellie laughed at you.

“You never had whiskey did you?” She asked.

Shaking your head “you?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah.” Nodding at her words, you looked around.

Sitting in silence for a while, you watched all the couples dance. Feeling Ellie’s eyes on you the whole time. You glanced at her, noticing that her glass is empty, you figured it’d be a good opportunity to get away from her for a second.

“Should I get you a new one?” You asked her. “A drink I mean.”

“Uh sure.” She gave you her glass, you walked towards the bartender guy. Ellie had a chance to admire you from the side.

Waiting for the bartender to bring you your drinks, you saw someone heading your way from the side, turning to look who it was you saw it was Joel.

“Hey kid.” He pulled you in for a hug. He always gave the best hugs, they were always warm and safe.

“Hi Joel.” Smiling at him.

“I see you and Ellie are alone tonight.” He looked towards Ellie, who was taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, waiting for you.

“I- yeah. We are waiting for Dina and Jesse.”

“I’m afraid they’re not coming tonight. Haven’t they told you?” He asked.

“What? But I- they told us they’d be here.” You said confused. Why would they tell you come here if they weren’t even here.

“I talked to Jesse today, he said him and Dina are having a date tonight.” Joel said.

“Oh well, I didn’t know.” You laughed. Great now you it was just you and Ellie.

The bartender brought you your drinks, putting them in front of you hitting you with the smell of whiskey, you gave Joel a cheeky smile.

He put a hand on your shoulder, “drink responsibly kid, and take care of Ellie.” He said.

“Yes of course, I promise.”

“Alright, well go on and have fun.”

“Alright you too Joel, I’ll see you.” You smiled at him taking the drinks in both hands you walked over to Ellie. Setting them down on the table you sat down next to Ellie.

“Well it seems like our friends have ditched us.” You said annoyed.

“What?” Ellie furrowed her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah Joel said they have a date night.”

“Great.” Ellie suddenly felt nervous. Being alone with you would surely end bad, she was scared that she’d accidentally confess her stupid crush on you or something.

“I know we’re not friends or whatever but I feel like getting a few drinks, what about you?” You asked. Ellie hated that you didn’t even see her as a friend but you usually avoided her like the plague and you’d never ask her to hang out with you, a year ago you’d just leave if none of your friends were here but Ellie guessed you must’ve warmed up to her a little if you asked her to keep you company.

“Yeah sure.”

Throughout the whole night you and Ellie bickered about every little thing, sarcastically replying to everything the other would say. You definitely wouldn’t be friends anytime soon but you two did kind of enjoy this night.

You were currently walking home side by side. Having a discussion about weapons. Arriving in front of your home, you talked for a few more minutes, fighting on which weapon is the better choice, in any situation.

“Alright, whatever Williams you’re right, I’m wrong.” You said, rolling your eyes at the girl. Walking backwards to your door.

“You know I’m right (y/n)!” Ellie said teasing you.

“Go home Williams!”

“Yes ma’am.” Ellie grumbled, turning around she started to walk back home.

Ellie thought about this night. It was the first time you willingly spent time alone with her. She enjoyed it even if you were still your usual sarcastic self, she still enjoyed it. Hoping to see more of you, without having the rest of your friends around. She liked to be alone with you, not that she would admit it to anyone.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.