#I guess I’m getter better at feeling my feels | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 years ago

Text

Family Group Chat

Story is Having a Girl

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Story:

Chris: LOOK AT MY RAI MAN!

Az: Did you even read what the sign said?

Chris: My QB is so handsome 🥺

Beck: 🤦🏻‍♂️ you saw Raiden and that was all, huh?

Chris: Look at him! He’s PERFECT

Iris: Story OMG! Finally!

Papa: Does this mean you and Carter can quit jumping on the bed now?

Blade: STOP! Why do we always have to ask about their jumping on the bed life! That’s my baby sister!!

Kitten: Ran, did you stop, baby? Did we stop after Lucy?

Az: That’s a negative. Me and Icy were always driving Blade, Story, and Lucy to “get ice cream”.

Carter: this is the conversation we get when Story tells you we’re finally having a girl? We have to talk about jumping on the bed? She was conceived in a car! Ha! 1957 Chevy Belair. It wasn’t on a bed!

James: You’re having a girl! Wait...you gave me a ride in that car... Was this before or after you gave Story a ride?

Lucy: You finally fucked her correctly. I believe that Chris gave you some good pointers. So what does he get?

Carter: he gets to spend time with Raiden

Story: *leaves chat*

Carter: You scared my wife off Morningstar!

Lucy: She’s too sensitive. Go fuck her, she’ll feel better.

James: So since you’re having a girl, what do we smoke? It’s always been cigars.

Ransom: Why are we nonchalantly talking about their sex life?

Aster: You realize you’re the one that brought it up?

Ransom: They’re telling us what’s growing in her belly? They had sex to get it in there!

Lo: Apparently, he just did the chicken poop thing, in her fwont butt. Carter, you did all the work, huh?

Blade: Do not bring Squish into this! She doesn’t understand.

Iris: You should really teach her the word fertilizer. That way she knows it’s not a chicken poop thing in her mom’s front butt 😂

Beck: Where did she come up with front butt anyways?

Chris: Moon man...when was the last time you looked at your wife’s vagina?

Ransom: *leaves chat*

Kitten: *leaves chat*

Blade: *leaves chat*

Lucy: So now that all the prudes are gone. Beck...it literally looks like a butt, and it’s in the front. Front butt.

Beck: .... Wouldn’t muffin be easier for her to say?

James: Yeah, I guess pussy was taken. Could be like Carter and call it a pretty princess.

Chris: 😂😂

Beck: Do I wanna know?

Carter: She said I can’t call it that anymore

Az: It was weird. Call it a cunt. Or is that too dirty of talk for the Queen?

Carter: She dirty talks. Just to me

Az: Yes, Carter spank my hiney?

Chris: Spanking isn’t their thing

James: 🤔 how do you know?

Lucy: he guesses things like that.

Beck: Ooh, what is their thing?

Chris: He calls her vagina his pretty princess. He’s definitely into pussy worshipping. They’re into this King and Queen thing. They gotta have a throne. Is it your dick or your face that’s Story’s throne?

Carter: .... My face

James: 😂😂😂

Iris: This is too much

Chris: Clearly, they’re into breeding. So I’d say pregnancy sex is a big thing. Creampie. Carter works late nights, sometimes, so I’m guessing a bit of somnophilia. They’re definitely into role play. I saw you freaky two, and Carter was pretending to be Daddy-O’s bestie. I’m gonna say you love the little housewife thing. Your wife greets you at the door with a bourbon. Obviously car sex. Am I right?

James: Do me!

Iris: No!

Chris: You two are tough. You’ve been together since you were babies. Only been with each other. You’ve tried everything. James you have a kink for her ass. Your hands are always near or on Iris’s ass.

James: It’s true

Chris: I’m going to say anal is a big thing. Iris can be a bit of a go getter and a hot mess. You make sure to remind her that you can take care of her. She’s always in charge, but when she’s with you, you’re in charge. You have a bit of an anger issue, and are rough as fuck. She’s limber, so she can handle it.

Iris: I hate you.

Chris: Azzie and the moon man

Az: I did NOT ask for this

Chris: It’s no secret you two have sex everywhere. You don’t care where. A car, in your parents driveway. In front of a window when on vacation. Your tits would look great with a crescent moon framing one.

Az: I hate you

Beck: I told you Starlight!

Chris: you’re a well groomed woman, and that’s because Beck likes to feast on you. I’m guessing that you wake up to his face buried in your cunt. Aster likes her hair being pulled and her ass smacked. Beck also has a slight breeding kink because he loves the babes.

Beck: She does...and I do.

Az: Christopher Beck! Shut up!

Chris: Az, you like to think you’re in control all the time. But you love when Beck throws you down, flips you around, and controls you. Carter isn’t the only one hiding those thick arms and chiseled abs under his clothes. You fancy a ride on his abs?

Az: No

Beck: Lies! She does. She really does. Do Lo.

Chris: Seriously?

Lo: Please don’t.

Chris: I thought everyone knew Blade likes tying her up. That Shibari shit. Makes her nice and pretty. Rope I doubt is his thing for her. She’s precious. Not like the rest of his whores. He uses fine silk ribbon. He also has a thing for pearls. Has he pulled pearls out of you? Rubbed it on your clit.

Lo: Who are you?

Iris: Does that feel good?

Lo: very

James: Baby Doll, I’m going to get us some pearls

Chris: You two also have this weird relationship with Arleigh and Beau. It’s kinda weird how your kids are born around the same time. You into watching? Swapping?

Iris: THAT’S MY BROTHER

Chris: He’s gotta a dick. Anyways, you don’t have to answer

Beck: What about you big boy?

Chris: Lucy

James: that’s not a kink

Lucy: It is for him

Chris: her tits, her ass, her cunt, her piercings. The other is obvious, we have a size kink. I’m huge, she’s tiny. Lucy and I both have a pain kink. Hers is worse. Insertion. Rough sex. The usual

Lo: Carter don’t ask

Carter: what’s insertion?

Chris: find something to put up in that cunt that’s not your cock

Carter: no

James: Story has a mold of his cock, and he has one of her pussy.

Beck: No you do not!

Chris: I did not peg the Queen for double penetration

Iris: 👀

Aster: She’s not a prude after all!

Lucy: It wasn’t just the dildo

Carter: Morningstar! She’ll kill you

Lucy: He’s already told everybody

Iris: Harry? Am I the only one that hasn’t been with him?

Beck: Az hasn’t

Aster: Yeah, about that.... Icy, he saw your tits!

James: He saw me playing with her tits. It’s different. He knows Iris is my girl!

Chris: Well, this has been a fun sex talk. Carter, bring me my Rai man. I think your wife needs some comfort since we ruined her announcement.

James: We’ll take Z

Beck: Brookie please 🥺

Lo: Bring me my little boyfriend.

Az: Who’s getting Archie off his mama’s tit?

Carter: He loves his mama!

Az: When she had Raiden, he was too lost in telling her how pretty she was to notice there was another baby.

Iris: It’s adorable! Him and Poppy get along. So bring me Archie, but make sure to pick him up. He doesn’t do well a night away from hims mama.

Carter: Did everyone just volunteer to take a kid, so I can jump on the bed with my wife?

James: Yes, since you can’t fuck a baby in her. Just fuck her.

Carter: *leaves chat*

Beck: So predictable.

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #dau #da au group chats #drysdale group chats

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years ago

Note

As someone, who's favourite character is Zuko, let me just say that your analysis about the Southern Raiders is spot on. Something about that episode (especially the way Zuko acted) always felt a little... off to me. And I could never figure out what it was exactly and considering the fact that discussion about this episode centered around the Kataang vs Zutara, I thought I was the only one who felt that way. So, I guess thanks for putting my thoughts into words.

Oh, I really feel ya, anon. If you actually don't look at the episode from a shipping point of view, which seems to be the focus of most the fandom, a lot of unpleasant things really start sticking out. I'm personally neutral to the Kataang vs. Zutara debate, I see good points and drawbacks to both ships, and no one's going to convince me that this episode proved the superiority of either pairing, especially when the shipping interpretations have never been important to me when analyzing this episode. People can say Aang is right in the end, they can say Zuko understands Katara's plight better (which, considering Aang has lost even more people he loved than Zuko has, he certainly should have understood Katara's suffering quite well too), but focusing on whether Zuko or Aang are the angel or the devil on Katara's shoulders practically blinds everyone to the very glaring and mindboggling flaws in this episode's writing, imo.

In general, the concept of Zuko's life-changing field trips with the three Gaang members he'd wronged the most is fine and fun for most people, but from the first time I watched the show it felt like the production team knew they were pressed for time and needed some veeeery quick and effective solution for Zuko to gain acceptance in the Gaang ASAP despite all the bad blood there. I can imagine a lot of people love these episodes, but admittedly I wouldn't rank any of them among my favorites because, as interesting as some of their concepts could be, if executed right, my immersion certainly wasn't as strong as with the rest of the show due to the nagging feeling that this was all for the sake of redeeming Zuko in the eyes of each Gaang member... and not necessarily in the eyes of the audience.

They get away with it, of course, because by this point in time, the audience is 100% conditioned to love the Gaang and Zuko, and if you see them getting along, you should be rejoicing in their team-up... but if you put some emotional distance between yourself as a viewer and the events of these episodes, their writing leaves a lot to be desired, especially in the concept of giving Zuko a quick whitewashing in the eyes of Aang, Sokka and Katara, one after the other, so they can genuinely accept him as a teammate and friend. If we'd seen similar trips frequently or occasionally in the rest of the show, with two specific members of the team taking off on an adventure by themselves, it might not be so glaringly obvious (and even... artificial? I guess?) that they're trying to quick-redeem him for each of them here, but on top of it happening thrice, it's literally happening one after the other, too. There's no episodes in-between, it's just literally a four-parter arc of "let's help Zuko become friends with these three".

The plotlines to be dealt with in these episodes are basically catered to each Gaang member, tailor-made life-changing field trips based on whatever they'll value the most, all of it conveniently possible and doable in the span of time they have between Zuko's joining of their group and the show's finale. Aang needs to learn firebending, Sokka needs to save his dad, Katara is permanently grieving for her mother's death. And so, Zuko to the rescue! If he helps them with their personal character quests, he gets 50+ approval points! :'D Honestly, I'm absolutely not against the notion of Zuko befriending them, obviously not, but the methods through which they chose to make it happen simply might not be the finest...?

Zuko loses his ability to bend because he "lost his rage", but he's still angry pretty often, the show even spoofs its own writing by showing him losing his patience at Sokka... while at the same time trying to sell that Zuko "isn't angry" anymore? Zuko helps break out random prisoners from the Boiling Rock without taking a single moment to actually learn who they are, why they were locked up, and without pondering if they deserve to be helped or if perhaps they're genuinely dangerous? Zuko gives Katara every possible tool and information she needs to take revenge on Yon Rha, because, loosely quoting his own words, he "cares what she thinks of him"...?

How about if we'd seen Zuko trying to connect with Fire Nation people, to help his fellow Fire Nation citizens, especially the ones who were living in dreadful conditions, like the ones in the Jang Hui river village? How about if we'd seen Zuko saving lives rather than threatening to take them? How about if we'd seen Zuko actually reasoning with his anger, and either working his way out of it, or repurposing it consciously, or making legitimate, personal efforts to find a new source of strength for his firebending through self-reflection, above all else?

We didn't really need sudden one-on-one field trips to teach Aang, Katara and Sokka to trust Zuko: we needed Zuko to prove himself worthy of that trust, to show how much he has changed, to literally contrast his new behavior with the old, to actually see that the guy no longer jumps into violence-mode 24/7, that he's willing to listen to other people's opinions or wisdom, that he wants to learn better when he knows he's misguided or misunderstanding something or another. Would he have become BFFs with any of them in four episodes if this had happened? Well, it definitely would have happened with Aang, the other two would have been trickier, but they definitely would have been more willing to accept him if they actually got to SEE that the changes in Zuko weren't skin-deep. Katara can be as thick-headed and stubborn as she may want to be, but I have no doubts she wouldn't have been able to hate Zuko as much as she used to if she'd seen him helping people, much like she often wants their group to do. But instead, they don't get to see the actual changes and growth... they just get their biggest goals and wishes satisfied, and that's enough to decide Zuko's trustworthy, no matter whatever sketchy behavior he displays in later episodes.

I absolutely appreciate the worldbuilding context we gain for the raids on the Water Tribe through The Southern Raiders, but I don't think this was an organic way to tell the story of how Zuko became friends with the Gaang. If pressed, I'd even say that Zuko's overt desperation to be their friend is OOC, to a degree: if this guy actually knows how dangerous his father's plans are (and he's supposed to :'D), how isn't he focusing on that side of things, when he's always been such a go-getter? It's not like he grew out of this sort of ends-justify-the-means behavior, seeing as he's absolutely obsessed with stopping his father ASAP, by any means possible, in the finale, when there was no such urgency to be found ever since he joined the Gaang. How isn't he more worried about stopping Ozai than about becoming best friends with the Gaang? Immediately sharing everything he's learned about Ozai's intentions of destroying the whole world might not make them friends instantaneously, but it would certainly get someone like Sokka to take his information seriously and immediately begin strategizing how to counter Ozai's plans. Instead, Zuko spent all those weeks, over a month, even, teaching Aang firebending, going on field trips and hanging out with his new friends in Ember Island. Once you have all the cards on deck and you actually look at all of them at once, doesn't it feel like there were so many more ways to achieve what the show was going for, far more effective ways than through the "let's be friends with Zuko" arc?

Ultimately, there's very little display of growth, in my opinion, in this small arc, on Zuko's side, despite the most obvious and reasonable way to earn the trust of the Gaang would be by outright showing them how much he's grown. I won't deny I appreciate that the writers respected his personality and didn't just warp him into the perfect good softboi the way the fandom apparently interprets him, but even if Zuko was going to be cranky and speak one-liners like "I'm never happy", it wasn't impossible to write better situations for him to connect with the Gaang's members and gain their trust. Even if the writers were set on having these episodes happen exactly as they did, they absolutely could have been written in a much better way, to create an explicit and direct contrast between Zuko's early behavior and the new Zuko's behavior when it comes to things that matter (most the parallels I've seen the fandom drawing are things like "oh look he hated tea before but now he brews it for his friends! So much growth!"... would've been nice to see the growth when it came to a lot of other things, too, if the growth really was there? Am I rite...?).

I may just be influenced by other redemption arcs that focus mainly on characters having common goals and working together to achieve them, then becoming friends in the process... but I really don't see how Zuko's character benefited from these episodes. Yes, bridges were built... but they absolutely could have been built in a more organic way that didn't make people like myself (and a few others) question if Zuko had learned or grown at all, considering the way he behaves isn't all that distant from the Zuko we've seen and known throughout the rest of the show. And the fact that he really seems to have learned nothing in The Southern Raiders once you reach the show's finale... you're basically asked to take for granted Zuko did learn a lot of lessons because he says he did, to assume he's going to put them into practice sometime in the future despite he has chances to do it during the show itself but never does, simply because they drop the ball upon every opportunity to show how much he's changed.

I really don't blame his character at all, when it comes to these shortcomings... it's seriously, genuinely, a problem with the writing department. Take a look through the fandom and you'll see thousands of people who claim Zuko's character arc is the most touching, complex and beautiful writing they ever have seen... and why? Because we're in the face of tell-don't-show :'D most people's perception of Zuko's character are based not so much on HOW Zuko displays his growth, it's strongly based on him stating he made progress, even if there's too many instances where the growth simply seems to have fallen to the wayside or gone forgotten for the sake of a plotline or another. Zuko absolutely could have been written far better than this, he could absolutely have the redemption arc his fans are sure he does have, but for me... there's way too many gaps in logic, too many missed opportunities, to truly think his growth was as extraordinary as a lot of people are hung up on saying it was.

#anon #woops #I probably shouldn't have written this much here but what can I say #I've got beef with these storylines #and I unfortunately can't bbq it (?)#so instead I ramble and ramble and hope you guys forgive me for how long-winded I can be :'D

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youcouldmakealife · 3 years ago

Text

YCMAL Superlatives Write-ins (Rd 5)

I’m not here! I think I will be back tomorrow? But gathering write-ins is a good ‘is doing something but doesn’t actually require brain’ kind of work when under the weather. (...I promise I am mostly resting. This is restful!)

Second to last of the write-ins!

Most likely to stay physically active after retirement:

Liam, fiery ball of energy. Anton, who doesn't give up jogging, to Thomas' chagrin. Bryce, handling the kids (yes, it includes playing hockey). David, because letting go is not an option - and Jake exercising with him is... very...attractive.

Bryce, Dan, Marc, Jared - the dads who must chase or play with their hobgoblin children

I feel like David wouldn’t be able to let go of that routine. Like, a lot of them wouldn’t, but David especially.

Bryce seems like he's just genuinely a gym rat so him

I don't think Willy could ever slow down enough not to

Bryce, gotta keep it tight for that beautiful boy

Ulf (out of vanity)

David. Just because he wouldn't know what else to do.

Tate "Rise & Grind" Williams

David, just as the doctor said.

Dan. Yoga is canon.

I feel like Liam wouldn’t work out but he’d run around like a toddler on a sugar high anyway

Bryce will always need an energy burn! So, I guess my vote goes to Jared?

Oleg! He was in his whatever thirties and keeping up with David in training!!

Bryce “weirdly frequent alumni games” Marcus

Ulf you peacock

I don't know who the "Ontario boy who goes out hunting in camo every offseason" is in this verse, but it's him

Willy. He is young and he is beautiful and he wants to stay that way.

Despite potatoes, David

Playoff Willy is gonna get so ridiculously competitive at running marathons

Most likely to immediately get out of shape after retirement:

I’m considering not even bothering with a ‘top four vote getters are your options, pick one’ for this category unlike all the others, and just giving you all Scratch written four ways. Is it: Scratch, Nick Angelopoulos, Nick ‘Scratch’ Angelopoulos, or all of the above? (Am so proud of ScratchnMoney getting disentangled for this question.)

But not everyone agrees!

tbh none of them. But I could see Jake almost never playing hockey specifically again.

Luke, like Mike, stays big but gets soft (literally AND metaphorically)

Marc Lapointe, because lazy

I mean, Mike, but that's not fair. Low-key, it's Vinny.

Scratch (not nMoney), also Andy

I trust Dan to calm down and chill out

Julius, he can't cook and he's used to being skinny automatically. That stops working eventually.

Liam- annoying the shit out of people doesn't burn as many calories as hockey

Tbh, i can't picture it for anyone bc you kinda have to love exercise AND have self-discipline to make it to pro-hockey levels?

Oleg, the man's exhausted

But also...

Scratch (now money cannot limit his sweets!)

Scratch, those eating habits gonna catch up with you......

Scratch (hates running! Eats so much shit!!)

I feel like scratch would immediately ditch the food restrictions

Scratch - when the snack drawer is just the pantry.

Nick “Ugh, JOGGING” Angelopoulos

Scratch already would be out of shape without Joey

Scratch is a cookie monster even in the nhl he’s only gonna get worse when hes not contractually obligated to be in shape

Scratch is gonna love his dad bod years

Most likely to get back to back hat tricks:

The people are angry but honest.

Somewhere on this continent there's a secret warehouse Sébastien Boucher rents out just for his hats.

Seb, and he'll let you know about it too!

Seb!!! (Jake is crying somewhere; David is seething)

Seb. And celebrate them in the most obnoxious way imaginable

Seb, damn him

Seb, to the great chagrin of David

Seb Boucher. Ugh.

Julius "better than you" Halla

Julius. He'd be so smug but also so nonchalant about it too.

Shithead, cause life isn't fair

Marc. Overachiever.

Raf, because he deserves all good things. And he'll be bashful about it.

Shithead, and both will have a shorty thrown in there for good measure

I don't want to say it but I gotta. Seb.

Marc, probably to prove a point

I mean. Seb won the richard for a reason

Probably Shithead, AND he would be annoying about it

...... boucher (the douche-r)

Bryce out of sheer talent, force of will, and need to impress his husband on the bench

Most likely to get back to back Gordie Howe hat tricks: (1 goal, 1 assist, 1 fighting major)

Flames-era Bryce (Jared is Not Happy)

Holden Chase (also with obnoxious cellies)

Jake -- there aren't many other players who combine "very good players" and "piss people off on the ice" like him.

Jake. But he's so nice about it!

Jake or Georgie both fit into the slim center of the Venn diagram between “good enough for a goal and assist” and “up for a fight”

Mike while on a line with Julius

I bet Jake has plenty already

Luke, cause life is sometimes fair

Holden Chase. And one of those fights will be with his liney.

Jake, probably because he's a dumbass

Jake. Is there a Gordie Howe hat trick hat trick when you get 3 in a row?

Jake (but not against the Bolts)

Shithead. So talented, such a dick.

Jake "all refs are out to get me" Lourdes

Shithead is going to fight Holden Chase for the honor

Best Dancer:

The people are VERY DIVIDED (except for those who confidently say ‘absolutely none of them’, which would absolutely track for a bunch of characters created by me.)

Ballroom: Oleg ( wedding practice). Club : Liam, on the nights he's away from Mike. Mostly to turn strangers on and tell Mike when they have phone sex later.

Vinny. He'd just go for it, and he's flexible

None of them, hockey players are terrible dancers

I feel like all the hockey players are probably pretty bad dancers. I'm going with Elaine, mostly because I have this headcanon that she takes ballroom and swing dance lessons as a way to get out of the house and meet new people.

I feel like Derek would have the moves, but Sven would turn out to be good at like, ballroom.

I feel like Sven Olsen can wave his limbs around in strange and mesmerizing fashion (a la Thom Yorke or David Byrne).

Probably Derek, no shame or inhibitions, just goes for it

Look Tremblay didn't kill it on the dance floor at a gay bar sporting a feather boa just for you all to vote for anyone else

Kiro Volkov. i feel like if he and Emily could come as a set? i bet they have routines.

Stephen seems like a guy with hidden depths

Ulf. He has snake hips.

Oleg Kurmazov has hidden depths

Liam. Nobody likes it, but it’s Liam.

In my heart I see Vinny

Emily (I refuse to believe that literally any of the men can dance)

Tremblay (if you've got taste)

Vinny just because he makes you smile no matter what he's doing

Carruthers. In his mind.

Literally none of them

I wanna say Jake, confidence and a lack of care what others think (though that could also make him the worst dancer w/o him knowing)

Willy is best at all things

Liam, comfortable in his body and absolutely shameless

Seb. No inhibitions.

Scratch. Idk why but the vibes

Tremblay, just saying, Matt didn't know he was gay before seeing him dance.

Georgie. Bet he has some smooth moves.

Ulf, for sexy reasons

Bryce (if he lets himself i feel he would have RHYTHM)

Drunk Joey

theyre all terrible dancers. i genuinely cannot think of anyone who is actually good or even strikes me as “least bad”. if there’s a character who is a dancer and ive forgotten, them.

Literally no one

Worst Dancer:

Sweden coming in ready and willing to destroy international relations.

Jessica, although it's probably on purpose

Scratch and Money definitely flail.

Jared, only because he never dances

Tremblay according to Dan

Shithead's dancing is 80% twerking and he's not even good at it

Connie, shy & self conscious never works on the dance floor, bless him

tied for David-what-is-dancing-Chapman and Mike-fuck-off-fitzgerald-im-not-doing-this-Brouwer

Andy. He’s too embarrassed for this, and not even alcohol helps.

Vinny - but in an endearing way

David- I am laughing at the image of him on a dance floor

Also Tremblay (if you've got eyes)

Dan Riley. Doesn't even try.

Anton. This is canon. Crank that Soulja boy.

Literally all of them

Depends what you mean by worst: david is too stiff, dima is too chaos, Seb is too Seb

Jared Wouldnt Dance

Julius. Finnish people can't dance (regards, a Swedish person)

Willy. So pretty. No rhythm.

Andy (it's the curse of the gingers)

imagine Trigger dancing

theyre all terrible. every single one. special shout out to: everyone when drunk, Derek, Joey, Scratch.

Shithead in his gaudy gold clubbing shirt. And he’ll think he’s great.

Drunk Joey, followed closely by Sober Joey

Liam but he doesn't give a shit

Most likely to be the cool mom/dad:

Dan, Bryce, Emily, and for some reason Roman. Also, Jake is the cool uncle right?

Does Erin Matheson, the future Wine Aunt, count?

Is being the pushover who you can get to let you do things cool? If so, Bryce.

Kiro and Emily could not be anything else if they tried.

Jake, I think he'd be a great dad, still holding out hope Taylor........

Elaine is canonically the cool mom? but also, Bryce

Ulf. Although I can't see him with kids, he'd be suitably aloof and all the kids pals would have a crush on him / want to hang out with him

Anton’s parents ARE the cool parents, he’s just the only one who doesn’t think so

Ben :) good egg

Dan. By not trying to be the cool dad.

Grace obviously

Jake, which is why David's not letting them have kids. So Bryce.

Emily is the coolest so by default she is the coolest parent

Gritty with all my heart

Ngl none of them have any chill but I can see Seb trying

Bryce will never say no to their kids

Jake if they had kids. He will settle for cool uncle

Elaine. She is the most wonderfullest, best-friend mom in the whole world, thinks Bryce.

Gabe Markson- he IS a cool mom

Jared wishes

none of them. theyre all dorks. lotta cool aunts/uncles though

Bryce! He takes after his mom that way

Most likely to be the embarrassing mom/dad:

Bryce is literally the frontrunner in both these categories, the people are TORN on his coolness. Kiro also appears in both but I think we're all in agreement that if he's embarrassing his progeny it's 100% on purpose.

Jared. He's his mother's son and will delight in embarrassing his kids.

Marc. He just wants to support everyone. Please put away the pamphlets at the peewee game.

Bryce. Let's face it he already is and he doesn't even have kids. Dad Vibes

Tonya Petrov (for a given value of 'embarrassing', where most people don't think she is particularly embarrassing, but she maximizes actions that make Anton cringe)

Definitely Bryce; he would be so sentimental always.

...and yet somehow also Kiro. But on purpose. He weaponizes embarrassment.

Bryce and Jared combined. Bryce with the gushy love and Jared trolling the hell out of them. Good luck lil M&M's

Kiro"why have kids if you don't embarass them" Volkov

DON MATHESON but also. Stephen would embarrass his kids on purpose

Bryce (not in purpose) dmitry (on purpose)

Marc. Although that may be too canon so Jared but he'd do it on purpose.

Bryce—soft man, many feelings, cannot keep them inside

Kiro is for sure an amazing dad but I am persuaded he trolls his children

Also Bryce (the duality of man)

All of them. Teenagers are embarrassed by having parents exist

Bryce. He gushes. And cries.

Marc. He can’t help it.

Jared on purpose - he has to pass along the suffering

Jared, raising the next generation of hobgoblins.

Bryce with his sheer force of love!

Also Gritty with all my heart

Bryce by accident and Jared on purpose

Marc, right? The answer is Marc, right?

Bryce <333 has too much love and no chill

Tonya could teach a master class after raising Anton

Marc definitely speaks to their teachers too much.

I feel like anyone that gets too close to any player would realize how embarrassing they all are

Boy I hope Derek's hypothetical kids are as unembarassable as he is.

Bryce, but i have to note it’s literally everyone. all of them are embarrassing.

Best work-life balance:

A background character that stays so far out of the ridiculous drama the protagonists create that we've barely heard of them. Maybe one of the not-Mikes?

Gabe (best at any balance! best at life!!)

Stephen—plenty of practice making time with NHL Gabe when both their schedules allow

Roman seems like he knows how to have fun and still work hard

Gabe Markson or Chaz Rossi, our most relaxed sons

Elaine (still not sure if she actually works, therefore perfect work-life balance)

Dan Riley, who married the opposite

Gabe, most reasonable in all things.

It would be simon were it not for the seb-shaped anchor holding him beneath the waves of work related stress. So I’ll say Chaz

Jake is the epitome of work hard and play hard

Gabe, of course. The most stable and balanced son.

None of them? Gonna go with none

Kiro or Gabe. Sensible good eggs

Owen, by virtue of not being a hockey player and/or spouse of a hockey player. and like, being relatively sensible and level-headed. points deducted for being a student, so ymmv.

Work is life and balance is bullshit:

David if Jake isn't in town. Dude, chill.

Playoff Willy and/or Owen (baby when do you sleep??)

I mean, you sort of wrote a massive epic about David's pathologically intense relationship with work...

Playoff Willy. Hockey. Is. LIFE

Playoff Willy, why are you laughing this is playoffs.

Have you been introduced to the concept that is David Chapman?

Dave!!! And his favorite client.

David and I hate that my precious angel is my answer

Dave can only dream about anything like balance cause Andreas has his foot on the scale

Literally everyone, but Playoff Willy leaves them all in the dust

David. No question. Will never retire.

David. we’re all collectively staring at david.

#YCMAL superlatives

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot #uhhh idk what else to tag this #enjoy!!

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outoftheblue-if · 3 years ago

Note

I’ll ask this on main, since I’ve already been perceived lmao

Who would the OotB ROs get along least with out of the Citadel ROs and the Scandal ROs?

Ooof, Bouncy! How can you ask me this?? I love all of them, and so would my babies. Fine, I'll do it.

For @bouncyballcitadel's amazing world and characters:

Isobel: Hmm, I think maybe Eli? Isobel would probably be a little annoyed by how cowardly they are in regards to MC (lol, sorry Eli). She’s very much a go-getter herself, so she would not be impressed. Also, Eli is a bit of a clown, we all know that, it’s on brand for them, whereas Isobel is pretty serious, so they probably wouldn’t have too much in common lol.

Max: Maybe Vic? Vic comes across a bit… how do I put this gently... asshole-y? (Lmao, I always bash Vic here, I’m sorry. I’m a Vic simp in my heart, I swear), so they’re pretty different in demeanour and attitude. Vic is also super serious and all about work, whereas Max is more play and fun, so they probably wouldn’t have a lot in common.

Clara: Erika lol. Clara is generally inclined to like/get along with everyone, but I guess out of all the Citadel ROs… maybe Dr. Sloan? I think Clara would honestly be a little intimidated by Sloan, and probably wouldn’t get along too well with Sloan’s bluntness and forthrightness. She might think Sloan was a little unnecessarily mean even, so until she got to know Ivy better, she probably wouldn’t get along too well with her.

Richard: Definitely Erika. Hmm, tricky tricky… Perhaps Davy? I mean, Davy is pretty closed off, and so is Richard, so the conversation might not flow too easily lol. Davy can also be a bit of a flirt and is very much into casual relationships, which isn’t something Richard is into, so he would likely frown at that. They could find common ground in fitness though, I guess?

William: Probably Erika. I mean, William is also generally inclined to like everyone, unless they’re terrible people? I already ship William with both Davy and Vic, so none of them. William would adore Jean, and honestly probably would get along really well with Dr. Sloan, he’s also really into cooking, and I see no reason for William to dislike Eli, so that leaves… Dr. Grey? Grey can be a bit of a shark though, which is very different from William, and he did kinda prioritise work over family, which would be a big turn off for William lol. Sooo… I guess Dr. Grey :(

For @nightingale-interactive's incredible world and characters:

Isobel: I think… Perhaps… Quinn? I think there would be very little talking involved with these too naturally if they were alone, they might just sit and calculate/inspect each other through narrowed eyes lol. Trying to get a read on each other. Isobel would be really impressed with F!Quinn though, given the career they have and how far they’ve risen.

Max: I suppose maybe Quinn? Quinn is pretty serious and dutiful, which is a stark contrast to Max’ carefree nature, so they might not get along too well on that account. Max might have a hard time connecting with them, and they might clinch a little at first?

Clara: Again, generally inclined to get along with everyone, so I don’t know… I’m gonna have to say Quinn again, though I don’t think she wouldn’t get along with them, I just think she would get along more with the others?

Richard: Hmm, I think I’ll have to go for Alcina? Again, mainly just because I see him getting along better with the others, I don’t think he would dislike Alcina at all. If anything, he might be a little too awestruck/respectful of her to be able to become friendly with her? He might feel even more respectful of her than the President, because she’s The First Lady, so she’s above him hierarchically as a military man, and she’s also female.

William: Hm, I’m inclined to say Alcina for him too. Not because he wouldn’t like her, but because he too would be a little too awestruck/respectful of her to be able to relax around her. She is a little intimidating. He’s also very mindful of where he is at on the hierarchical ladder, so he would probably feel like she was far above his station (though I know she wouldn’t care about that herself, bless her).

I guess everyone loves Christian and Stephen! I'm sorry Quinn, you're my one and only though, I swear 🤎

Thanks for this cursed and torturous ask, chaos ball! ✨🤎

#ask #ootb:crossover #citadel #scandal #god this was so hard #help #i love all of them #finding reasons not too was rough #isobelclaymoore #maxwinthrope #clarahamilton #richardwinfield #williamtaylor

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ghostgothgeek · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, I'm sorry if this ask bothers you, and I hope it doesn't give you trouble, but I've been thinking and I just need to get this outta my chest.

A lot of Sam criticism comes from Sam "not acknowledging her mistakes", and I can't help but think that's a result of her not apologising as explicitly as people want?

I first want to clear up that I love Sam and believe this is BS, because she does acknowledge when she's wrong. But I wanted to dwell on the why of this belief.

The only "problem" is that her way of apologising is usually not your typical sorry. This is actually common in cartoons. Saying sorry is important and should be featured more often, but storytelling tends to prefer using actions over words because it gives a certain symbolism to it.

Case on point, in Girls' Night Out, Sam's way of apologising to Jazz for not trusting her abilities as ghost hunter is to follow her plan and, most importantly, to acknowledge her as Ghost Getter #1. Something Jazz even beamed at. And that helped them bond.

Sorry this got long, may I ask your opinion on it? If you don't want to answer, that's okay, thank you for your time 💖

Hi @geekgirles! I’m so so sorry it took me this long to reply - I’ve been really busy getting back to work! I also wanted to rewatch this episode both for fun and also to better answer this.

Firstly, you are not bothering me at all and this isn’t too long! I’m seriously so honored you would ask for my opinion!

Also, you bring up a good point. I never really thought of that. Sam is a lot more mature than Danny and Tucker, so it would make sense that she knows actions speak louder than words.

Also I actually love this episode. The only downside is the forced tension between Sam and Jazz, and I say forced because they get along well in all the other episodes. They just had it for a plot point in this episode because Sam and Danny were getting closer to being a couple, and I guess she needed “family approval” even though she basically lives at Fenton Works already. It was definitely forced tension, which honestly is stupid and I hate it. But also, some of the best lines are in this episode!

“What was that?”

“What? You think you’re the only one who can drive men away?”

“One of us is gonna have to dress up like a boy.”

“Oh come on, it’s because I wear boots right?”

“Wow.”

“Frightened now?”

“No, I can’t believe you have a girlfriend.”

“Uh, why are all these women armed?”

Seeing all the women, human and ghost, team up is amazing and hilarious. Its cool to see how ghost powers can combine.

It’s also hilarious to have all the couples - Danny and Sam, Johnny and Kitty, Ember and Skulker, Spectra and Bertram, even Jack and Maddie (and the friendship between Dash and Kwan, the mother/daughter relationship between Jazz and Maddie, and the father/son relationship between Jack and Danny). In the end, everyone learns a little something about someone else, which is both dope and a great lesson and character development.

Anyways, back to Sam and Jazz in this episode. Tucker is also kinda standoffish to Jazz, it’s not just Sam. Sam is a bit more sassy (when is she not?) but Tucker is also rejecting Jazz. I think Sam is justified to be worried about Jazz joining the team (she doesn’t have as much experience fighting ghosts, earlier in the series she wanted nothing to do with ghost hunting, when she tries to help she usually sucks Danny in the thermos) even though Jazz is improving. I don’t think Sam had the right to be kinda nasty towards Jazz, but it is also kinda Sam’s character to be like that towards anyone who isn’t Danny and Tucker. But again, the tension between the girls was forced in this episode, because Tucker was hesitant towards Jazz too and yet the focus of the episode is on Jazz and Sam.

I’ll get to the apology thing, but I think something I see often other than “Sam doesn’t apologize” is “Sam always ends up being right so it reinforces her bad behavior” - which I still don’t get. Now the apology. The example you brought to this conversation is a perfect instance of Sam being wrong and admitting it. She tells Jazz good job when Jazz is excited her plan worked, and called her ghost getter #1. They are shown complimenting each other later on and going out for ice cream together. You are correct - in her actions, Sam has not only admitted she was wrong and apologized, but she also accepts and compliments Jazz, and vice verse. Sam may not have said “I’m sorry, I was wrong” like she did to Paulina in Parental Bonding, but actions can speak louder than words. It’s one thing to say “I was wrong sorry” and not really mean it versus actually enthusiastically accepting and complimenting Jazz both for her plan and how well she handled the equipment. At the end of the episode, I think it’s safe to call them friends, and not just sister and best friend of Danny.

Another thing I’d like to point out: we’ve seen Sam use the bazooka and Jazz use the ghost peeler, but in this episode they are essentially using each other’s weapons and complimenting each other on how great the other is doing (can I just say that Sam with the ghost peeler is fucking badass). That’s mutual respect and approval. It’s better than just an admission of being wrong and an apology.

So between this, her apology to Paulina in Parental Bonding, and even her literally saying “you were right” to Danny in DCMH, you could argue that Sam DOES have some character development throughout the show. I’m sure we would have seen much more of the series wasn’t cut short by BH’s selfishness. I think that if there were to be more seasons before forcing the ending in season 3/Phantom Planet, we would have seen more character development in general, particularly with Sam, and I also think the Danny/Sam relationship wouldn’t have seemed as forced as most people see it now. I’m positive that there was seasons of development for their relationship, and the writers basically had to go from chapter 5 to the end of a 60 chapter book in essentially 10 short episodes. Season 3 was rushed, but I understand how the writers still wanted to get to their end game plans for the show to try and tie up loose ends. I think we can all agree that the show did not end gracefully or the way any of us wanted, but remember it is because they were forced to shove so much plot that should go on for seasons into like a third of a season because they were cancelled. It got messy and therefore the execution was poor.

Anyway, that’s way more analysis than you asked for (sorry), but yeah, I can agree with Sam’s form of apologizing not being as straight forward as some would have liked. I hope this answers your question! Feel free to hit me with more!

#danny phantom #sam manson #girls night out #analysis #ask stephanie #stephanie shares things

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notcanoncompliant · 4 years ago

Text

I See You

So I finally got the writing bug again. This is pretty much PWP. It’s decent, I hope those of you who are into this stuff are into this fic. lol

Trigger Warnings: blood, implied cannibalism, non-con.

The FBI has been after Anthony Stark, serial killer-slash-mob enforcer, for a long time. Peter, special agent and analyst, dips into places he shouldn’t. There are consequences.

And away we go...

*************************************************

“Good morning, Starshine.”

Peter tries to swallow, his mouth and throat fuzzy from whatever had been used to knock him out, his head stuffed up and aching.

He opens his eyes, winces at the light. Shuts them.

His wrists are secured together high above his head, and everything is cold, chilly air on bare skin--bare. God. He’s naked; stuck in stirrups, strapped down. But, aside from the headache and the discomfort of waking up in bindings and completely exposed...he doesn’t hurt.

He lifts his head, forces himself to squint in the light at the figure standing off to the side.

“What did you give me?” he asks, voice thick.

“Standard knock-out cocktail. Painless,” says that familiar voice.

Peter swallows again, drops his head back against the headrest of the chair and shuts his eyes. “Thanks for that, I guess,” he rasps.

A soft, familiar chuckle issues from the right side of the room. He’s too tired to look.

He drifts in and out for a little while longer in the wobbling in-out of slowly returning consciousness.

Footsteps click behind him and then further back. A quiet humming lilts through the air, and then the rush of water--a sink--and the sound of something being filled. More footsteps, this time growing closer along with the humming.

Something pokes at his lips, and he opens without thought.

A straw.

He sucks, moans at the cool rush of water down his parched throat.

“Good boy,” the figure says.

Peter shivers involuntarily at the praise, heat curling lazy-sweet in his gut. Danger, a deep part of him whispers.

He takes another pull of water and then the straw slips from between his lips.

He opens his eyes.

Anthony “Tony” Stark moves away to stand off to the right, setting the glass of water down on the desk and sitting back against the edge. The enforcer looks good; dressed to the nines as he was in every fruitless interrogation video on record, a suit that probably costs as much as Peter’s rent, goatee immaculate, thick salt and pepper hair styled in a casual mess. He watches Peter with a pleasant look on his face that doesn’t match the emptiness of his pitch-dark eyes.

The room is small, an office, maybe. They’re in a warehouse; through the window behind Stark, Peter can see closed bay doors, concrete and metal and beams and silent, unmoving machinery. A quick glance around the immediate room tells Peter there’s no tray of instruments, nothing lined up on the desk. Nothing to do the kind of rip-and-tear damage Peter had seen in any of the crime scene photos.

“You look confused, Pete,” Stark says. “Were you expecting something?”

“I’m just well-versed in your usual, and this isn’t it,” Peter says. He tugs a little at the bindings around his wrists--leather. Stiff, but exponentially more yielding than the steel cuffs that left cuts and torn skin around the wrists of the bodies in the morgue, in the photos.

Stark smiles, and cold trickles down Peter’s spine. “You’re a special case.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You got a little too close, all on your own.” Stark smiles again, looks...proud. “A real go-getter. You’ve got enemies in high places, Petey-pie. Kept poking your nose in all the wrong places.” He shrugs. “Or the right ones, as it were.”

The first unpleasant sensation prickles through whatever it is Stark gave him (definitely not standard knock-out; an unsurprising lie), and his stomach sinks.

Someone did this. Someone sent him right into the jaws of the monster--why ‘jaws’, why do jaws matter--and now he’s going to die in some creative way, some way that doesn’t include scalpels or knives or cattle prods or any of the endless list of horrifyingly inventive tools Anthony Stark has allegedly used to ruin human beings.

That ‘someone’ was probably--most likely--Rumlow, head of the task force and a first-class asshole. He’d warned Peter not to get involved, and Peter hadn’t listened, because...well, because he noticed the inconsistencies in the original ME reports versus what was included in Stark’s official dossier, inconsistencies made all the more suspicious by how tightly the originals were locked down.

Maybe Peter had ‘noticed’ them when he’d ‘stumbled upon’ the confidential files.

Maybe Rumlow noticed. Maybe someone above Rumlow noticed.

And now Peter’s shoulders ache from how his arms are suspended and there are straps wrapping his thighs and calves, keeping his legs spread in the stirrups of this medical chair.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Stark tuts. “Boring. Try again.”

Peter wets his lips nervously. “Do you take requests?”

“Better.” Stark pushes off from the desk, and comes to stand in front of him. “And no. But you’re free to beg for whatever you want.”

“Boring,” Peter says, a touch breathless, real fear finally beginning to worm its way through. “You know I’ll beg at some point.”

Stark smirks. He walks back to the desk, pulls a rolling stool out from underneath and moves it between Peter’s spread legs, shucks his jacket and tosses it onto the desk. He begins meticulously rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Tell me something,” Stark says as he sits down, rolls a little closer. “Why would someone send a pretty little hacker into the jaws of death?”

Peter winces at the phrase, twitches back away from Stark’s nearness before he can catch himself. Too many sensitive parts on display, too close to that shark-like smile.

“Analyst,” Peter corrects inanely. “And I don’t know why you’re asking, why do you ca--fuck, okay,” he gasps, a bolt of pure panic shooting, short and electric, through his limbs at the sudden grip of Stark’s hands high up the backs of his thighs. “Okay. I saw some things and I knew they were wrong and I guess I went to the wrong people.”

“What was wrong?” Stark asks, faux-curious, trailing his thumbs back and forth along the sensitive inner skin of Peter’s thighs. His gaze is dark, flat, fixed on Peter’s eyes instead of all the flesh in front of him, and Peter can’t tell at this point whether that’s a (relatively) good thing.

“They...fudged the ME reports,” Peter says. “Doctored the photos.” He struggles not to squirm when Stark’s hands slide down to his ass. “They…”

Peter freezes. “They know who you are,” he breathes. “They know. They hid the marks because they know, and they…”

“They like to toss me a good meal every now and again,” Stark supplies casually.

That’s why there are no tools. No knives, no blades. Stark’s smile is a weapon, and Peter is beyond fucked.

Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s just the intensity of the understanding, but Peter can practically see blood between those immaculate teeth, painting Stark’s lips. Can see those teeth cutting, pulling, ripping, tearing, chewing--

The grip on his ass tightens, and he lets out a strangled sound when Stark’s eyes drop from his in favor of the places between Peter’s legs.

“They gave you to me for disposal, Mr. Parker,” Stark says, distractedly. “A pretty little troublemaker about to throw a wrench in all their plans.” He leans in, and Peter jerks at the brush of lips against the inside of his right thigh. “I should send them a thank you card.”

Those lips part and teeth scrape Peter’s skin, not nearly hard enough to break through, but roughly enough to startle him into trying, futilely, to pull away.

“I can make it all disappear,” Peter blurts. “I’ll wipe everything. Every file, every scrap of anything that has anything to do with you. I could do it from my phone, right now.”

“Mm. I know you can,” Stark murmurs. He kisses Peter’s thigh again, squeezes his ass. Smirks up at him. “My job isn’t all wetwork. I know all about you, Peter.”

When he leans in toward the center, towards Peter’s most sensitive places, Peter squirms in earnest, leather straps biting into his limbs, across his middle. “No, wait, please--”

And then all he can do is moan, startled and loud, when Stark dips down between Peter’s cheeks and kisses him, open-mouthed, tongue thick and hot and wet, probing at Peter’s hole, alternating between long, dragging sweeps and penetration, slick muscle working its way inside Peter’s body.

“What the fuck,” Peter gasps, yanking downwards, flinching and struggling between the sharp tug at his wrists and the non-stop stimulation of Stark’s mouth. “What the fuck are you--oh, God, stop, you can’t--don’t, please,” he begs, tears springing to his eyes.

It feels good, scary good, his hips arching and bucking to the extent allowed by his bindings, but that all encompassing pleasure is going to stop at some point and turn to unimaginable pain and terror.

Images flash through his mind--the real photos; missing pieces, torn flesh, the mangled crescents he couldn’t--hadn’t wanted to believe--were bitemarks--

Stark drags his tongue from Peter’s tailbone over his hole and laves attention on Peter’s balls with a loud, satisfied groan.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he growls, grinning up from between Peter’s legs. Peter makes a high sound, a whine, at the sight of those teeth so near his thinnest skin. Stark nuzzles at his sack, sucks one of Peter’s balls into his mouth, rolls it around and releases it, takes in the other for the same treatment.

Still no pain. Still nothing but sparking heat prickling through Peter’s hips, low in his spine, his body aching for more even as tears free themselves and roll down his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and slams his head back against the chair, unwilling to keep looking down at his traitorous cock, jutting up stiff and leaking on his stomach.

“Please,” Peter says, voice cracking. “Please don’t--” he cuts himself off, bites down on the words. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t stop.

“Peter,” Stark croons, pressing a soft kiss to the base of Peter’s cock. “Baby. Sweetheart. Light of my life.” Peter flinches and moans, low and frightened, at the press of teeth against his erection, faint, sharp pressure. “Look at me.”

Peter swallows, steels himself, and looks down his body.

“I lied,” Stark whispers conspiratorially, breath washing warm across Peter’s stomach

The fluorescent light flattens everything, brings out the shadows in Stark’s eyes and the faint hollows under his cheekbones, monstrous and hard and beautiful.

“No one sent you to me.”

Peter stares, uncomprehending--unwilling to comprehend. “What?”

Stark smiles, slides his hands around to pet and squeeze the tops of Peter’s thighs.

“You’re here because I wanted you here. You’re here,” he kisses the tip of Peter’s cock, and to Peter’s shamed arousal, it twitches, a bead of precome leaking and rolling down the shaft, “because you’re better than all of the idiots who believe they have me cornered. My pretty little hacker, my little genius. Scooped up by the Eff. Bee. Eye.”

“Wha--” Peter starts to ask again, numb, but Stark sucks him down.

Down, down, into the hot, tight, pulsing heat of his throat, down to hell and farther, past any hope of return. Lost in the dark, reverent satisfaction of Stark’s gaze, and the stretch of Stark’s lips around his cock.

When the sharp edges of those perfectly straight, perfectly terrible incisors close around the base of his flesh, press in hard enough to hurt, Peter comes with a choked cry, straining against his binds.

Stark sucks and licks him through it, brushes open-mouthed kisses the slick, too-sensitive head until Peter twitches and moans from too much.

When Stark releases him, nuzzling at Peter’s trembling thighs like a lover, murmuring sweet, possessive nothings into his skin…

...Peter might as well have died here, in this warehouse. Lost, consumed. Gone.

“You’re mine, Peter Parker,” Stark says softly, watching him with pleased, victorious heat. “You have been from the moment you cracked the encryption on those reports. You saw me. And I saw you, sweet thing. I see you.” He smiles. “And I’m never giving you back.”

Peter stares down at him, breath slowing as the sweat begins to cool on his body. Slack against the chair, shoulders aching, muscles twitching from exertion, he gives up.

He nods.

*********************************************

Everything Tag List:

Feel free to untag yourself or request not to be tagged!

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @silkystark, @starkercrossedlovers, @hoeforthegays, @problematic-sofatini, @starkeroverlord, @starker-reader, @mrstark-please, @aoifelaufeyson, @fastenyourseats, @starkerhowlter, @smidnite, @starkeristheendgame, @readysetstarker, @awesomeimportantfan, @darker-soft-starker, @vanillapeter

#starker #starkerflowers fic #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #nff #tw: noncon #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: cannibalism #dark!Tony #FBI!Peter #serial killer!Tony #cannibal!Tony

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Icy Fairytale

Boyinaband (Dave Brown) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Falling in love is walking on thin ice in and of itself, but what happens when it's literal? Yeah that's right - two ambitious individuals fall head over heels for one another on the delicate icy ground of a Brighton ice skating rink.

Requested by @onceuponadie Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I'm so sorry for the long wait but I still hope you find the time to enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

No matter how hard I try, I can't tie the laces of my skates properly. I can't tell what's wrong with me today but I know something's seriously not right. To be perfectly honest though, I might have an idea or two as to why this is happening to me but I'd rather keep my mouth shut on the subject to avoid the intense blush and the flock of butterflies that will inevitably attack my stomach. And I can't have that many distractions while I'm on the ice.

Oh who am I kidding, my main distraction is always there, either in front of me or by my side. Sometimes even holding onto me for support.

Dave Brown is the name of it.

The name I was completely indifferent to when it was first brought to my attention.

It was a cold rainy day in Brighton, the town I was still on-the-fence about at the time. My trainer had been wanting to collaborate with a trainer from the UK for a while and had finally scheduled and arranged for the two of us to be able to fly out there and meet with him. I thought my trainer was ambitious, but this this new guy was a whole new level of ambitious. I could tell right away he'd be hard to please and I had no issue with that - I am and I always have been a goal-getter; I myself am hard to please and I've often been called an 'obsessed artist' by my trainer so I was beyond excited for this new extraordinary and challenging journey.

I just didn't know that the challenging part wouldn't be the skating.

After a particularly long practice session, once I was finally left alone by my trainers, I stuck around at the skating rink to wind down and feel the freedom of skating how I want and how I know I'm supposed to. Free like a bird gliding through the sky, not bound by any choreography or anyone's rules and opinions. That's when I'm most myself.

And that's when I met him.

The rink was closed and suppose to be reserved for only me and my coaches for the day but him and his friends - now my friend too - Joel probably didn't think much of the notice on the door considering they had waltzed in with zero idea the vicinity was booked.

I was too entranced in my own world to notice their presence by the seats. I only took notice of the fact I wasn't alone when Joel called out to me.

"Are we interrupting? Is this a private session or something? We can leave, sorry for bothering you."

While the other boy was talking, Dave remained silent, blending into the background and not drawing any of my attention to him. And yes, maybe I was supposed to turn them back, tell them to leave and whatnot, but I did the exact opposite.

"Private session's over, you can stick around, it's not a problem." I said, slowly gliding over to the entrance of the rink where the boys were now standing after they finished climbing down the stairs to approach the ice rink.

I stopped in my tracks rather abruptly as to not crash into them, stabilizing myself before offering them my hand for a handshake. "I'm Y/N. Professional figure skater."

I couldn't help but let out a little giggle when their jaws went loose, hanging open in surprise. They were quick to regain their composure, Joel being the one to accept my hand first, followed by Dave, both of them introducing themselves as they did so.

"Cool streak." I casually pointed at the red streak in Dave's hair, "I've always wanted to dye my hair but I'm not allowed to by my trainer."

He scoffed at my remark, "Your trainer? He's got the audacity to boss you around? Does he not realize how lucky he is to have a skater like you to his name?"

I was understandably taken aback by this compliment. I'm used to being given compliments after my performances in competitions, but I've never considered my unchoreographed skating as anything more than mediocre. It was surprising to receive such a positive remark, heartwarming nonetheless though.

"That's so kind of you to say, Dave, thanks." I'm still a long way from knowing how to properly respond to compliments - mostly cause I don't believe them - but I'd like to think I handled that one well. No, I know I handled it well considering Dave, Joel and I have been friends ever since.

As to why they were at the skating rink that day - they wanted to fulfill a New Year's resolution they had made at the start of the year: learning how to ice skate because apparently they were hopeless at it. And yes, they were - they got on the ice with me that day and were dropping like flies. I considered it a miracle if they were even able to get off their asses on their own. I had to pull them up a couple of times - a gesture they paid me back for with lunch afterwards. Following that day, only Dave remained determined to make his resolution count and he kept coming to the ice rink to practice (read: fall and get back up) and learn with my help of course. It's safe to say I've never laughed so much in such a short period of time and never have I ever established a friendship so quickly with anyone ever. I guess being someone's ice skating buddy is a whole different level of a friendship where the rules of a regular friendship don't apply.

I soon came to realize why that was...

Because I suddenly found myself wanting more than a friendship with Dave. It's ridiculous as hell, as all goddamn hell, but I couldn't and still can't help myself. It's these little subtle signs that shine through my behavior, all completely unintentional. The lingering hold meant to keep him stable on his skates. The firm eye contact when I'm trying to get him to focus on his balance. The little touches and hugs all gestures meant to congratulate him on his little wins like falling and managing to get to his feet on his own; managing to make three solid strides without sprawling out on the ice, etc. I must be the worst ice skating instructor ever - as Dave gained more balance and needed my assistance less, I found myself missing the times I literally had to hold him up, his arms wrapped around me and mine around him. I miss the times he held my hand to avoid falling and still fell, sometimes dragging me down with him.

And I'm only gonna miss those times even more after tomorrow because after tomorrow, I'll no longer be in the UK and I'll no longer be there to see Dave's successes and fails. I'll no longer have him be my distraction, the only distraction I've ever approved of and wanted around. I'll no longer have a chance to feed into the temptation of telling Dave what I feel for him. It's a temptation and a fear and excites me just as much as it terrifies me, paralyzes me just thinking of the outcome, especially when I know I won't get my feelings reciprocated. I won't get anything better than a soft rejection from him yet I still want to come clean.

Why, you might be asking - well, it's rather simple, actually. I think he deserves to know how special he's made these last few months. How much he's made me fall in love with this city and the UK as a whole. How much I enjoyed our adventures both on and off the ice. How much fun I had going sightseeing with him as my tour guide.

How much I enjoyed his company and how hard I fell for him in the process.

Today's the last day of 'class' for the both of us but I just so happen to be the only one who's aware of it. Yeah, I've been one hell of a coward and never brought up my inevitable departure despite having been informed over a week ago. Exactly, I had a week to come clean about more things than one, but I chose silence.

And boy did that bad decision come to hit me against the back of the head like a boomerang. A mocking and particularly painful one at that.

Get it together, Y/N. One of these news you'll have to tell him, he has to know you're leaving. And the other...

"Sorry I'm late!" The familiar voice coming in a breathy yell from somewhere in the darkness surrounding the seats awakens me and frees me from my mind's battle with itself. "The rain only makes traffic worse."

Now or never. Don't drag it out and keep adding salt to the wound!

"I'm leaving!" I say, loud enough to be heard clearly despite our distance. Also loud enough to cover up the tremble in my voice. It took a lot of power just to say that one sentence, I wonder how I'm gonna power through having to explain it to him.

"Jeez, did I upset you that badly?" Dave surprises the hell out of me when he steps on the ice, already in his skates which I didn't even notice him put on. I'm not surprised by that to be honest, I'm too caught up in my own thoughts and how I'm displaying them in my demeanor to notice my surroundings.

"N-no, I..." so much for covering up that tremble in my voice, "I have to leave the UK...tomorrow...I'm going back home for a competition and to, you know, get ready for the Olympics...I don't know when or if I'll be back but I was hoping..."

"What? When'd you hear about this? Why so suddenly? Is it that big of an emergency that they inform you literally five minutes in advance?" There are enough emotions in his voice to prevent me from looking at his face, especially his eyes. I'm afraid of what kind of hurt or whatever other emotion I might see there.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "My trainer told me last week...", I admit, gritting my teeth and cringing as my stomach ties itself is several knots that are causing me great discomfort.

There's a pause which I'm assuming is meant for him to collect all his thoughts and properly process them. I'm afraid of what he'll say when he does.

"So I'm the one finding out five minutes before your departure?" He finally asks, the tone of voice he uses making my heart sink a little.

Damn it, Dave I already feel guilty enough, this is unnecessary!

No, no, he has a point and has every right to be upset. Friends don't keep friends in the dark about things like this. About any things really.

Then why do you keep him in the dark about literally EVERYTHING?

This is what I was afraid of - getting the temptation of coming clean. I have nothing to lose after all, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. I'll lose him one way or another.

"Listen, Dave...", I didn't think this through but I'll improvise it, that's a better option than shutting my mouth and not saying another word, "I was gonna tell you, I really wanted to, but I couldn't...I couldn't bring myself to do it. I still don't want to believe that I'm leaving. I love it here and just the thought of leaving it all behind...it hurts, you know. And 'the more people know the realer it is' is a real thing so I didn't want...." I stop, my voice cutting off completely as I find myself weak on balance. Maybe standing in the middle of an ice rink isn't the best setting for this conversation. "I'm being ridiculous and I'm stalling like a coward." I say that more to myself than to him but I don't let him speak. Instead, I continue my rambling after a brief sigh.

Dave, God bless his soul, stays silent and just looks at me with this curious gaze which is letting me know he's holding back for my sanity's sake, allowing me to take a breather and collect my thoughts before I express them to avoid misunderstanding me.

I inhale, finally ready to start talking, "Alright, here we go...Look, I don't want to end this...friendship between us on a bad note but I don't want it to end with there still being secrets between us so I'm gonna finally say what I've been wanting and not wanting to tell you for a while now. It's on you whether it'll be a bad ending to a good story or not, but I just need to get it off my chest, ok?"

He nods, not at all as hesitantly as I thought he would which is relieving to see, so I continue.

"This is gonna sound pathetic and downright laughable but here it goes - I like you, Dave. The kind of like where I see you as more than a friend and sometimes even wish you would see me the same way as well despite being sure you don't. And please, if you plan on pulling a pity act give me a heads up so I can just walk aw-"

My ramble is put to an end when Dave puts his hand up, pointer finger in the air and almost touching my lips as a gesture to shush me. I am typically one of the hardest people to shut up EVER, but now the words die down on their own as if they are even happy to be put to rest at his request.

"Y/N you are the most talented, most graceful, the kindest and most beautiful and smartest person I have ever met and yet you still also happen to be the densest and most ignorant when it comes to the people around you. You're a people pleaser, I've figured out as much, but goddamn it, you rarely know what a person actually wants. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, this could just be the case with me and an inability to show emotion which I haven't known about all this time, but still - if your dense ass hasn't noticed it yet I'll say it out loud for you and if you still find a way to misinterpret it, I'll spell it out for you in huge neon letters, got it?" He makes something barely alike a pause before sighing, "Y/N L/N, the most densest person in this whole word, you've had me star-struck since day one and I've only been falling deeper and harder in love with you ever since. And you don't have even the slightest clue of what happened to me and my heart a couple minutes ago when you said you were leaving. Believe what you wanna, but words have never crushed me harder ever before and trust me, that says a lot. So, before you go and think you have my emotions figured out, remember that I actually know how to skate."

That's A LOT to take in. It's got layers upon layers of questions followed by answers followed by even more questions that I'm not sure I'm prepared to ask or answer.

So he's liked me since the day we met? Love at first sight? Nah, that shit only exists in movies.

He was hurt by that? I hurt him by not telling him then I hurt him by telling him and I'll hurt him the hardest when I leave tomorrow. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for putting so much pain on him without even realizing it?

And wait - he knows how to skate???

"You can skate? Like, you can can skate? Like, you're not a hopeless case like you've made me believe?" I ask, one of my eyebrows shooting up suspiciously.

Dave goes from looking puzzled to cracking up with laughter within a second after hearing my question, "Oh Y/N, you're so adorable. That's what's got you puzzled the most out of all I just said?"

I narrow my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest defensively, "Well the rest seems pretty cut-and-dry, if you ask me." I say sarcastically, earning another laugh from him.

It's only now that I notice how confidently he's standing on the ice - as though he's standing on solid, non-slippery ground which is far from the image I have of Dave while on ice. The uncertainty, the lack of stability, it's all disappeared from his still demeanor which now makes a lot more sense.

He smirks at me, "Does it now, densey?"

I frown at the nickname, "Don't call me th-"

He doesn't let me finish, instead presses his lips against mine, the contact making me lose balance on my skates. Luckily, he probably calculated this risk in advance cause his arms wrap around me instantly, preventing me from slipping more than an inch.

"Who needs to be held up now?" He asks, pressing his forehead against mine when we pull away from the kiss.

I keep my eyes closed despite the urge to roll them in playful annoyance, "Oh, shut it."

And he does so by pressing his lips against mine once again.

What will happen once I leave, I have not the slightest clue. Hell, I don't even know what'll happen when we pull away permanently and get off the ice we're standing on. But I do know what's happening right now - I'm kissing Dave Brown and nothing's ever felt this right before.

@waterlilypat @iwillboilyourteeth @insanedeathwish @onceuponadie @loraleiix @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @goldenstarofthunderclan @cosmicstorm19 @lam-ila @sra-verissimo @marthebeeduosimp

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quickienewyork · 4 years ago

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So I'm not sure why I'm asking you this or even if this is an ask. I'm just sitting here feeling all kinds of dejected and rejected. I guess lonely. Ever feel that there's a lot of people in your life but none you can really talk to? Yeah, anyway, here I am alone again. Your writing helps, thanks.

Oh those are some of my least favorite feelings and I can strongly relate. Especially during this last year when the world has been on fire.

I’ve struggled with feeling lonely and out of place for much of my life, never finding one group where I felt like I truly belonged. I eventually found that I make friends with individuals more easily than I fit into a scene or group and some of those friendships have lasted decades.

Recently, it’s been especially hard to reach out to folks, or to know who to talk to. So many people are hurting and most of us don’t want to be a burden. But I try on occasion, and usually there is someone on the end who is also feeling alone. So keep on reaching out whenever you can; I’m guessing you have friends who are feeling the same way.

I hope you feel better and find good ways to spend time with yourself and connect with those you care about it.

I’m glad reading is helping (I’ve been lost in the first four books of the Stormlight Archives) and I hope you continue to find words that at least distract if not heal.

Lots of hugs to you friend and here’s to things getter better, finding new connections, and getting a break from the things that hurt.

Love to you,

Guy

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grahamcarmen · 4 years ago

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Hi, so I just finished the new season today! I have so many thoughts, the last few episodes felt kind of rushed? I wished they had gone about the whole situation between Gray and Carm at the end differently. More so on seeing them reunited. My biggest question, is why was he so quick on going back to VILE? He knew what they were capable of yes, was it to feed his criminal impulses? Why did ever want to steal in the first place? What led him to that conclusion and how did he learn of VILE? I was keen on seeing more of his backstory, and still need time to let the story simmer so I can analyze it more. It's just confusing. I guess it's just because the show ended that I feel so bittersweet y'know. What do you think Carmen would've done after they all disbanded? How could she leave them so quickly after she just got back to Team Carmen in the end? Besides wanting to see her mother. I was hoping they'd at least stay together.

i think that more than a few people feel that ( the knee jerk incredulity at her just leaving them a note and yeeting was real)

like disclaimer again: i do love carmen and this season this is just expanding on some little ??’s

on gray and “thinking gray.”: I was also feeling the lackluster on the payoff motivation wise for gray returning to VILE ( which was definitely needed as he was the secret weapon needed to finally get evil carmen back and at least partially inevitable due to ownership of the choices yadadadada )but like when he finally got his memories back he just repeated some things that i never really doubted. that gray did this of his own free will, he probably is of a lower empathy in general (which does not mean incapable of caring and doing the right thing. just that..~~~), that he regretted hurting carmen. in s1 he says his primary motivation as making more money and i was like”mmhmm fits.” being a thief and all and why not since they hadn’t introduced the big “needs to be able to tie up loose ends.” as a operative qualifier to anyone, including some of the recruits there. the only newer thing was his video that he seeked them out. which is interesting and all but sets him up as a go-getter so its so confusing that he’d choose to return to VILE ...a place where he was hurt and is so freaking selfish with what capers they choose to pursue. i kinda went on a tangent on another post that there is a theme of using a false sense of bonding to give them a little more loyalty which is like really heavy considering that means offering a “home” to what looks like operatives who might all be orphans but i don’t think it was highlighted enough to say “HEY YO” even tho GRAY LOOKS SO TIRED TO LEARN ABOUT HIS PAST WITH VILE

its really interesting because of the 3 people who had access to him/nature we got; carmen who only encouraged his desire to help (for the kiddos, for her safety, for assuring her that they were in...whatever... together, and make sure that they weren’t being secret spy jerks) ACME who got like...0 usefulness (riperonis ma guys), and VILE with maelstrom just hammering home all his shadier deeds with “YEAH THIS IS YOU.” AND HIM JUST ACCEPTING IT AFTER SITTING FOR A LONG AF TIME ALONE.

and when this was happening I was thinking about this analysis from another fandom about characters who resign to the law of the strong which could have been a reason for why gray doesn’t seem to hold the consequences for his failure against VILE even though he really should. (if they bothered but listen-)

its something that happens when characters choose to live in worlds they know are unfair, know that they choose to lie and steal and cheat, and thus should not be surprised or hurt when it happens to them in return. which of course lead to them not knowing where to draw the line on what happens to them...and i mean this in like some narratives usually go (hahaha no thats messed up please gtfo being treated like that is not ok and in allowing others to define your limits you are whittling yourself away). and they decide to live in resignation that. i am capable of bad... so i AM bad. (I am that guy. i’ve always been that guy) and makes them absolutely ripe for the (but you’ve been good . you can choose to be better. it won’t erase the wrongs of the past but it will make for a better future)

but that still leaves exploration of “WHY WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO LIVE BY THE LAW OF THE STRONG??” and you know...not having anyone to rely on, poverty, or what was simple rebelliousness turning to darker and darker paths, are some easy reasons to put a spotlight on maybe our operatives having depth and like..arcs. especially any of those reasons combined. ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY’RE WHAT VILE CONSISTENTLY IS SHOWN OFFERING. (shadowsan really is their s-tier character huh)

which i really thought this show would go for when a shivering brunt who is loyal and protective asked if she was really going to be left behind or remember how unsympathetic most of them seemed to see carmen chloroformed because “she did interrupt our heist.” meaning that they understand this world. probably have understood it for longer than anyone should. (antonio being content as a “pawn” is the tenant in my head today) and why shouldn’t more money be important. or honestly how simple it was to accept that someone would just need more money.

with gray they introduced that he could be good and he could be bad but like leaned into “no all that niceness was fake and he’s bad.” due to the hyper specificity of the mind wipe apparently? which also leans into really flat interpretation of evil!carmen (i just mean that there is a lot there ...) meaning theres no really exploration of him and more of a judgment (even though he’s shown to be kind, snarky, and upfront, as himself without a mind wipe.) and then we wait...

the pacing of the last 2 episodes: adrenaline bebe!!! but also there were so many concepts being introduced and resolved and skimmed past so that it is a little confusing at some conclusions. like the scene you’re talking about where carmen just leaves a note and ghosts is like 30 seconds and thats a lot to unpack because ?? i’m really thinking that it might have been insinuating that carmen left them the pen specifically to give them a new home to wait for her because she was going on that little break like she planned (and they knew was the endgoal) because it was behind her note and presumably placed by her but because i was focusing on the letter goodbye like ??? i thought for some reason that it was zack saying he would now like to try ACME because HE thought of it and i was like ??when did you consider this?? and 3rd watch i was finally “ahhh ok ok i think i get it.”

another bitten off scene i think might have been when gray in his first mission is already exhibiting signs of going...”huh this is not good.”

from stopping carmen from unprofessionalism to seeing that new carmen is willing to up and leave the group for mental gymnastics instead of relying on them 100% to going to the ferris wheel where he DEFINITELY SAW HER TRYING TO KILL A CIVILIAN since it showed his reaction after ivy’s. and then it turn to team red because how they feel about it definately matters more than gray but its also so easy to miss that choosing to have gray witness that as the start of what makes him turn himself in (maybe this is just a possible interpretation and its midnight ok)

evil carmen! lost her empathy. ok. so then like thats a static judgment about how they’re gonna make her do bad stuff and she still absolutely cares about her history and VILE still needed to enforce bonding and giving her memories that they comforted her and gave her her coat so thats why she cares about it and her anger at betrayal and sense of loss that she still throws right in shadowsans face when “evil”

carmen thought she crossed a personal line?? like jeeeeeez that’s 6 months of crossing lines and the most recent and horrifying one happened like not even a minute ago and then 5 seconds later we get chief and her reconciling because yes it needed to happen so we’re not gonna address how traumatizing it was or

VILE JUST WENT ALL THE WAY DOWN HUH??

and all these things are important and have the groundwork for happening but man they just happen one after the other and its like

before moving on to the next thing and like let me breathe omg

and yeah that means that so many people were left confused because the show about family (carmen’s family that SHE built ) seemed to disband for carmen to go to see her mother at last alone, shadowsan to go to his brother and a heartbroken pair of red heads to join ACME

and we get a time gap before reuniting but only a few seconds to decide if reuniting was the plan all along(the pressure point)

and there is a lot of actual IN TIME that is broad strokes that many people have already picked whats going to haunt them that wasn’t explored more...

TLDR; i get it on both counts (gray and rushed)! glad there was some sweet in your bittersweet and since canon definitely had team red in the same place they absolutely reunited and moved back into the shop and carmen talked to them about how great her mom is and planned a dinner

#red crackle thoughts #not really red crackle but #ask #midnight me needs to learn what brevity is i swear #cs spoilers #also i am notorious at clipping my pwn thoughts #some of the context in my head didnt make it to being typed i am so sorry

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