#and I think I must have seen only about twelve blue butterflies in my life so far

[majoresca]

Folks, do you believe in signs? Like, omens and superstitions?

[cherryatnight]

Me and My Husband - Giyu Tomioka

master list || asks

warnings - mentions of death, bodily harm (caused by someone else), thought of losing a loved one

word count - 1479

a/n - hello everyone!! if you couldn't tell this short story is based off the song Me and My Husband by Mitski. if you have any requests feel free to send an ask and let me know, i hope you're all doing swell <3

(2nd person pov, any pronouns)

"And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space but when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved"

Looking around, you realized all the Hashira were looking at you. You've made a fool out of yourself, everyone knew it, but they wouldn't tell you, no matter how much of an outsider you were. Although you were physically strong, you lacked the mental strength a Hashira should have, you could never communicate with others well. Ever since you joined the Demon Slayer Corps you had done everything alone, you survived the Final Selection alone, you can survive being a Hashira alone. Walking away from the group, you decided to sit under a tree on the other side of the garden, you didn't want to deal with the embarrassment that came along with being late to a meeting. Suddenly, you felt your sad aura change, quickly turning your eyes met Giyu's blue ones and the air felt crisper, like you could actually breath without the pressure of living up to any standards. The others either didn't notice or were too caught up in what they were doing to see that he had arrived, so he made himself comfortable next to you, leaning your head against his, you explained your mishap to which he responded with a light hearted chuckle.

"Me and my husband we're doing better it's always been just him and me"

After a long night, you walked into the garden all the estates surrounded, it was peaceful there, it always had been at night. Taking your Nichirin blade off your belt, you set it aside before laying down and looking at the starry sky. You heard someone walking into the garden behind you, but you didn't worry, you knew who it was. Giyu layed next to you, and without saying anything he gave you a quick but passionate kiss and you two let the silence engulf you. This had become a nightly routine for you even before meeting Giyu and slowly he followed that nightly routine. You slowly got up and Giyu went to follow, but you pushed him back down and took his raven colored hair out of his messy ponytail. He always said he hated you doing his hair, but before missions he always had you tie his pony a little tighter for good luck. You slowly start combing your fingers through his hair, he slowly relaxed against you and let you continue, starting to hum your guy's song. You had met him after he was taken in by your mentor, Sakonji Urokodaki. You both trained together with two other young kids, Sabito and Makomo, but you two were the only ones to complete the final selection without getting eaten by a demon. He never left your side after that, you had tried to get him to open up to you multiple times after losing Sabito, but he always just stayed silent or changed the subject.

"And at least in this lifetime we're sticking together"

The relationship you and the Water Hashira shared was never something either of you shared openly, you both loved each other beyond reason and would do anything for the other, but your remote and quiet personalities never lead you to need to flaunt it out, hell, you didn't even tell anyone the two of you were married. You were sure everyone knew, how couldn't they? Whenever you weren't on a mission or training youngsters, the two of you were glued at the hip, even if there were no words exchanged. In the beginning, some of the other Hashiras had tried to figure out your guy's relationship but dropped the subject after not learning what they had hoped to hear. Eventually everyone found out after Giyu had been injured on a mission and you can running into the Butterfly Mansion while pushing by the other slayers and holding back tears. He was minorly injured and would heal in a few days, but all you cared about was seeing him safe now and all he cared about was knowing there was one less demon that would put you in harm's way. After that, they all had the answer they had been wondering about for ages.

"me and my husband we're doing better"

Most of the time, you two never went on missions together, you assumed it was just the luck of the draw. One day, you two had been called to a mountain along with Shinobu, something about a Twelve Kitzuki living on the mountain. You didn't mind, the other two didn't seem to either, considering you all had defeated at least one of them before. As soon as you got to the mountain, Shinobu left to go coordinate the clean up and show how to administer an antidote to some wounded people. Shortly after, you and Giyu split up, promising him you'd be okay, you gave him a kiss goodbye and headed on your way to find the demon that had taken so many of your fellow slayers. Then you heard it, a young kid yelling about his sister, following the sound you were faced with the demon you had been sent to kill, a lower rank five. His white hair covered part of his eye, but you had been able to observe and figure out which of the twelve he was. You recognized the kid's earring's, Giyu had said something about his sister being a demon and how he just let them go, you had called him crazy in the moment, but later you knew you would've done the same if you were in his shoes. Trying to keep the kid in your eye, you turned to the demon and waited to be able to see his abilities. Spider webs shot out of his fingers and surrounded the kid in a cage that was slowly closing in, after quickly running and slashing him out, you turned to the demon, you could see the anger seaming off him. Running at him, you went to slash his neck and it easily came off with only half of your strength, odd but you weren't going to question it. You turned to the kid and assessed him damage, he seemed over exhausted, and probably had a few broken bones here and there, you knew he would be okay. Thats when you felt, the shivers down your spine you got whenever a demon was near, you turned around, but not fast enough, the spider-like demon had sent an array of webs your way, all you could think of was keeping the kid safe. You stepped in front of him and took the blast, very well knowing how badly you'd get hurt. Launching back, your vision got blurry and it was hard to focus on the demon, calming your breathing you charged at the demon before you heard a voice ring out and you knew you and the kid would be okay. Giyu was here, and within a minute, the demon was no more. He must not have seen you because he rushed at the kid and his sister first before seeing you laying a few feet away from the kid. At first he couldn't figure it out, but then he saw your front side, dozens of slashes scattered your skin from head to toe.

It was warm, the next thing you felt was immense warmness and a pressure in your left hand, almost like a hand. Slowly and painfully, you opened your eyes and looked at your hand, Giyu laid there holding your hand against his forehead. His ocean blue eyes looked up to meet yours and you could tell he was heartbroken, his eyes seemed dull and sad, even looking at you. Before you could say anything, all you heard were apologizes from him, from not being there to protect you, to allowing you to go off even though he knew one of the Twelve Kitzuki were there. Your heart broke at the sight, such a strong person was completely shattered at even the idea of you brushing death for a dumb call you made. You grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, it was painful for you to move in such a way but you didn't care, all that mattered was him, and him knowing that you were okay now. Apparently you had been asleep for almost two weeks, and not once did he leave your side, his missions had been put on a pause and he didn't even leave to eat, he just sat and waited. You knew that even if he didn't say it, you had scared him more then the surface showed, you two were all the other had and you'd bet your life to save the other. But it was okay, cause you and him were together and that's all that mattered.

[stellarboystyles]

serendipity

ahhhh she’s finally done!! now i can rest my weary soul. thank you to my lover @bfharry​ for putting this lovely event together, and i’m sorry this late, i’m a mess.

7k pining, fluff and smut

friends to lovers college au // trigger warning - mentions of illness, family death and childhood trauma, mentions of alcohol use.

She was reaching as high as she could, desperately trying to get to the book on the shelf that was much too high for her to reach. She turns to Harry, who’s smirking down at her with crossed arms.

“Need a lift, sprout?”

She gives him a look of eloquence. “Please.” 

She giggles as he dips down, wrapping his arms around her legs and lifting her up. Now, she’s happily at eye level with the desired shelf. 

Her fingers skimming over the spines of all the hardbacks sitting comfortably on the wood surface. E...F...G...H...

“Found it!”

Once her eyes lock on the title, she pulls the book out as fast as she could.

“Okay, let me down.” 

“Sure? Don’t like the view from up there? Know you’re not used to it-”

“No, now let me down before I bruise you like the peach that you are.”

“Ouch.” he snickered, setting you back down onto the ground beneath. “S’harsh.”

“Deserved it.” she teased before he sticks out his tongue in a playful response. 

“What d’ya need the book for?”

“It’s for that analysis we have to do for poetry class.”

He blinks at her once, eyes widening slightly. “What analysis?”

She giggles at his expression. “You didn’t read your emails, did you?”

“Fuck!” he exclaims, voice slightly above a whisper, but it was enough to agitate the other students in the library who are trying to either study or get their own work done.

“Shhh!”

“Sorry, sorry.” he apologizes to the people around them before Y/N puts a hand on his bicep and he leans into her to hear her whispering words.

“You just have to pick a poetry book, analyze it, make a conclusion, all that stuff.”

“So it’s like an essay?”

“Kind of.” she follows Harry as he starts to examine the shelves for a book himself. “You know how Greene is, he’s super chill. He wants it to be more of a review, what you think of the book and the author.”

“So, like a review.”

She blinks at him. “That’s what I just said.”

“M’tired, gimme a break.” he sighs. “He never challenges us in that class.”

“I guess not.” she shrugs. “Easy grade, right?”

“Sounds like it.” he gives a casual nod. “When’s it due?”

“Tuesday.”

“Sweet.” he nods, eyes skimmed across the shelves before landing on a cornflower blue hardback. Harry chose books by their cover a lot. Not metaphorically, just literally.

“Ready?”  

He nods again. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Once they’d both gotten their book signed out, they started down the path across the patch of grass, making their way to their next class that they had together. 

“So you really didn’t check your phone all weekend?”

He shakes his head. “No, my phone was off ‘cos Gem was visiting over the weekend, remember?” he taps on the side of her head with one finger. “Helloooo, earth to Y/N, you were there.”

“Quit it!” she scolds, swatting his hand away. “Yeah, I think I remember her. She’s the least annoying Styles’ sibling, right?”

Harry unexpectedly clutches his chest, wincing in pain. “Ouch, ow!”

Panic rushed through her, the first thing popping into her mind was that he was having an asthma attack. “Haz, are you okay?” she drops her bag onto the ground so that she can help him. “You’re scaring me, do you need your inhaler?”

He leans over, eyes squeezed closed. One hand is resting on his knee, the other still grasping at his sternum. 

“My ego...it hurts.”

As soon as the words registered, anger washed over her, jaw rippling before punching him in the bicep.

“You’re such a little shit.” 

“Oi, tha’ hurt!” he laughs, which makes her even more angry, whisking her bag off the ground and walking away from him as quickly as possible. 

He lets out a lighthearted sigh before starting to jog up to her. “C’mon, wait up.”

“Go away.” she grumbles, quickening the pace of her steps towards the building that their next class was in. Her hand was less than a foot away from reaching the door, about to push it open but she was no match for his longer legs as he jogged to catch up with her.

“Hey, hey.” he manages to get her hand in his grasp. She turns around in his grip, eyes fiery with vex. 

“What.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” he frowns, moving so that he’s holding both of her hands in his as he stood in front of her. “Please? M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the brick wall behind her. “Yes you did.”

“Let me make it up to you?” he offers, resting his palm on the rough surface above her head. 

“Whatever you want.”

The pounding heartbeat in her ears is deafening, but the prank that he’d just pulled wasn’t quickly forgotten.

“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” Pushing herself off the wall, she turns and pushes the door open to the classroom, leaving a sad Harry behind. He trudged along behind her, silently moping before sitting next to her. Not even a minute after they sat down, Harry was leaning over to her, trying to get her attention. 

“Y/N, please.” he whines, laying his head on her shoulder. “M’sorry.”

The butterflies in her stomach were crumbling her resolve, and she lays her cheek on top of his curls. “It’s okay.” he can hear the smile in her quiet voice. He peers up at her, an endearing smile beaming back at her.

“Not mad at me anymore?” he clarifies, voice filled with hope.

“How long have we been best friends?” she laughs. “Y’know I can never stay mad at you.”

“We were babies, don’t you remember?” he snickers. “Like, actual babies.”

Neither of them really remember. 

Harry and Y/N’s parents had been neighbors and friends for years before either of them were born, and when Harry was almost two, they’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl.

“Harry, look.” Anne coos to her son as he sits on her lap. “See the baby?”

He stops playing with his teddy, toddling over to the sound of his mummy’s voice and he’s so fascinated, probably because he’s never seen a real baby before. 

“I hold her?”

The new mum says “of course” before she gives her baby to Anne, now holding her in Harry’s lap. 

“I pet?”

He carefully lifts a chubby hand, places it on her tummy and pats gently at the pale lavender onesie. 

“My sweet boy.” Anne kisses the top of his head, smoothing out his blonde bangs.

Harry leans down and pushes a soft kiss onto her cheek, and it’s safe to say both mums melt at the sight. 

��They’ll be best friends for sure.” 

He looks up at the baby’s mum. “She seepin’?”

She nods with a smile. “Yeah, she's sleepin’.”

He gives her another kiss on her cheek before speaking again, this time in a hushed voice. 

“Night Night, baby.” 

“Our mums are never gonna let us forget that day.” he groans, twisting open the cap of the drink in his hands.

“Or that you had a crush on me.” 

He nearly chokes on his juice, making her split into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe I did.” he admits, leaning his elbows onto the desk. “So what?” 

“You definitely did, remember when you kissed me?”

His cheeks heat up at her teasing, arms crossing on top of the desk before laying his head down in embarrassment. He cracks one eye open at her laughing. “y/nnnn.”

When Harry was five and Y/N was four, he asked if he could kiss her, at school.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.” Harry tells her as his fingers draw in the dirt.

“That’s what my mummy and daddy tells me!” she cheers, and he may only be five years old but he knows that no other girl on the playground would happily sit in the dirt with him like she would. Her cheeks are resting against her hands and Harry thinks that they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen.

“Can we kiss now?” 

She thinks for a moment before speaking.

“You can’t tell your mummy, because she might tell my mummy and we’ll be in trouble.” 

“Won’t tell anyone, not even Niall.”

Her eyes go wide with a gasp. Niall was his best friend, he must really mean business.

“Really?”

“Promise.” he holds out his pinky for her to squeeze.

Unfortunately for them, while Y/N was over next door at Harry’s for a playdate Anne caught them kissing in the back garden and they were both forced into the friend zone. Y/N was super sad, and Harry didn’t like that one bit, so he tried to make her feel better. 

“Don’t cry, someday when we’re grown ups we can kiss and hold hands anytime we want! We can be best friends ‘til then, okay?”

“The start of an epic friendship.” he reminisces, flashing her a wink. 

“Good times and bad.” she nods, and the mood drifts to sad silence.

“We’ve really been there through everything, huh?” he acknowledges, meeting her gaze. 

When Harry was twelve and Y/N was eleven, Harry’s dad left. Left his family with nothing and Harry was devastated.

“How could he? This isn’t fair to any of you.”

Y/N was standing in Anne’s kitchen listening to her painstakingly tell her what had just happened. He’d left while Anne was working and Gemma and Harry were at school, leaving the remainder of the family devastated. 

“I know darling, but we’ll get through this. I’m worried about Harry, he ran off. He was so upset. Do you know where he could be?”

“I’ll find him.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her mind and legs worked together to pedal faster than she ever had before through the park behind their street. As soon as she crosses the bridge she sees him. He’s sitting under their favorite oak tree, knees dew up to his chest.

“Harry!”

She throws her bike down and sprints to him, falling next to him.

He looks up, releases the grip on his hair and reaches out, grasping her hands and she quickly pulls him into a hug and she’d never held anyone so tight in her entire life. Her own hot tears started to fall from her face at the sound of his heartbreaking cries and she doesn’t know how long they stayed there like that, slowly moving her fingers through his curls as she held him. He let out a whimper when she forced his face out of her neck, cradling his cheeks in her hands. He looked so defeated and she had to use every ounce of strength in her body not to sit there and cuddle him against this tree all night. His mum and sister needed him, and he needed them. Her fingers brushed across his wet cheeks and he leaned into her touch as she repeated the action. 

“I’m so sorry, Haz.” another sob escapes him at her words. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can cry, scream and yell, whatever you want...but we gotta get home., it’s getting dark.”

“Don’t wanna go back there.” he shakes his head and tightens his hold on your shirt. 

“H, your mum and sister need you, and you need them.”

“I need you.” 

Y/N’s heart flutters and she’s not sure why, but she’s sure Harry can feel it because he’s still fisting her shirt. 

“I’ll stay the night at yours, my mum won’t care.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll get over it.”

Understandably, of course her father wasn’t too fond of the idea of his daughter sleeping over at her best friend’s house, because he was a boy. But she reassured her dad countless times that “boys were gross” so he begrudgingly allowed it.

They’d cuddled countless times, that night was no different. She held him, stroking his hair some more as they talked. The mood is lightened after awhile. Even though the healing process hasn’t even really begun yet. Harry was gonna be okay, because he had Y/N. 

“Gemma gets so jealous because she can’t have boys in her room.” he jokes, making her giggle. 

“She’s also fifteen and has a boyfriend.” she reasons. “We’re just best friends.”

“True.” 

Comfortable silence engulfed Harry’s room for a few moments, the vibe was mellow from each other’s presence before Y/N spoke again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” her voice was barely above a whisper, brushing the stray hairs away from his forehead. 

“You don’t know that.” he whispers, peering up at her. The moonlight shining through the window is enough to illuminate their faces while they talk.

“Yeah I do.” she argues softly. “It’s bad right now, but it’ll be okay someday. Promise.”

When Y/N was seventeen, her world came crashing down.

“Harry, can you come down please?”

He quickly put down his phone, shoving it into his pocket when he heard the urgency in his mum’s voice coming from downstairs. Ever since his dad left he’d grown closer to his mum and sister, more protective.

He rushes downstairs, finding her in the kitchen. 

“Mum? What's wrong?”

“I need you to go next door and check on Y/N, alright?”

His face fills with confusion and fear but Anne doesn’t give him any time to respond. 

“I just got off the phone with Rachelle, she and Will had gone out to dinner and he started to have some terrible pain. They’re at the hospital now, they did some tests…they found something and they think it might be cancer.”

Harry’s face falls.

“Oh God, Mum—”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“Does she know? She had to work after school today, does she know?”

“Her mum said she was going to call her once she’d gotten home from work.”

“She gets off at eight thirty,” he pulls out his phone and sees that it’s nine fifteen. “She should be home by now.” He briskly walks over to the window that faces Y/N’s house. 

“Her car’s there.” he reveals. “M’goin’ over there. I’ll be back.”

She agrees and without another word Harry’s at her front door. 

Locked.

“Shit, shit, shit.” he mutters to himself before remembering the spare key under the flower pot by the door. Once it’s retrieved, his trembling hands fumble with the piece of metal before successfully unlocking the door and pushing it open. As soon as he’s inside, he hears muffled crying from upstairs and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s rushing upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Normally he would never just walk in her room uninvited, but when he saw the white wooden door decorated with silver stars all over, he wasn’t going to stop until he got to her. As soon as he pushes her bedroom door open, the sight alone is enough to make him cry. He watches her yank her desk chair out, screaming as she throws it as hard as she could across the floor.

“Y/N!” 

He rushes to her, pulling her in the most protective hug he’s ever given. Her arms retreated to frightfully gripping the front of his shirt, knees buckling. They ended up crumpled on the floor, backs against the wall as he held her. Her gut wrenching cries were hushed by Harry’s embrace.

“Hey, hey—shhh. M’here, look at me, okay? Deep breaths, breathe with me, okay?” 

“I can’t, it’s too much. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.” her cries made his heart ache, all he wanted to do was make it better, but he just couldn’t.

Needless to say, they’ve been there for each other through everything. Y/N’s dad passed away later that year, leaving everyone devastated. Harry waited a year to go to college to be there for Y/N and her mum.

“Are you excited for NYU?”

She tried to sound happy for him, but her voice was laced with sadness. His back was facing her so she couldn’t see his face as he glanced at the sunset out her window.

“M’not going.” he admits, voice small and her jaw goes slack.

“What? What d’you mean you’re not going?” 

“Can’t leave you two here like this.” he turns around and tears are brimming his waterline. “Already talked it over with mum, and the bakery’s not really willin’ t’let me go yet.” 

“Harry.” she warns.

“Hey,” it’s alright.” he pulls her into a protective hug. “We’ll get everything sorted out, okay? It’ll be nice to take a year off from school anyway.”

His lighthearted tone isn’t enough to soothe her anxiety. “You don’t have to put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not.” he promises. “We’ve been there for each other through everything, yeah?” he pulls away slightly, giving her a warm smile. “That doesn’t just stop because we aren’t kids anymore.”

“We make a good team.”

Her words warm his heart and he turns to her, nodding with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, we do, don’t we?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her.

Admire her.

Tell her how the crinkles in her eyes are like crescent moons, glowing when she smiles. 

Watch how she giggles at your jokes that aren’t funny, and how coy she gets when you���re sweet with her. 

She couldn’t help but get lost in books like this. Somehow they managed to capture everything she’s ever been through, and everything she’s struggling with now. It was torture, really, being in love with her best friend, seeing him everyday, hiding her feelings from him in fear of their friendship being ruined forever. She couldn’t even fathom if that horror were to become her reality, she surely wouldn’t survive the heartbreak.

Touch her. 

Tell her that the stretch marks that paint her skin are magnificent, and that her body is just one dazzling part of who she is.

Snuggle her with tender touches and soft fingertips, love on every curve of her body.

She found herself daydreaming at times like this—the midday sun beaming down on her through the window of the library as she sat in one of the lounge chairs, reading one of her favorite poetry books. She would think about how Harry would touch her if she were his. How he would caress her skin, what his lips could do, where his hands would go.

Adore her.

Cherish her. 

Her reading was quickly interrupted, her vision obstructed by a pair of hands covering her eyes followed by a familiar voice.

“Guess who.”

“Uh...Bigfoot?”

“Heeeey.” he protests, moving to sit in the lounge chair next to hers. “S’mean.”

She giggles at his pouting, squeezing one of his cheeks. “Poor baby.”

“Ouch.” he brought his hand up to his face to rub the sore skin. “Like beatin’ up on me, do yeh?”

“Just a little.” she winks. 

“Yeah, yeah.” he playfully rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the book in his best friend’s hands. “Whatcha readin’?”

Her heartbeat quickened as she realised that she had been caught, swiftly shutting the book and tucking it into her bag. “Nothing.”

“Nooo, lemme see!”

He didn’t give her another chance to respond, knowing her all too well. She shied away from his words, cheeks splashing with pink.

“C’mon, pleeease?” he frowns, nudging her arm with his elbow. He notices her apprehension, not wanting to push her.

“S’just me.” 

His voice is softer, giving her a fluttering feeling as he leans in closer. “Y’trust me, right?”

The close proximity made her heart thump in her chest. She gives him a slight nod before quietly replying. “Yeah.”

He gently bites down on his lower lip, his eyes flickering from her eyes, down to her lips.

Were they going to kiss?

“Why won’t you tell me what you were readin’?” he quirks with a small smile, tilting his head slightly. You can see the wheels turning. “S’it naughty?”

“No!” she gives him a look, as if to say stooooop, Haz.

He chuckles at her nervousness, patiently waiting as she keeps fumbling over her words, avoiding his captivating eyes. “No...no, no, it’s a...it’s just a book.”

“Obviously.” he blinks. “What kind of book.”

“Just poetry.” she mumbles, hoping he would drop the subject quickly.

“S’it for your poetry analysis thing? What kind of—”

“Harryyyyy.” she whines, hiding her face in her hands. 

“M’not doin’ anything! Can’t I be interested in what you’re readin’?” he defends, resting his cheek in his hand, elbow leaning on the arm of the chair. 

“M’only teasing.” he swipes his fingers across her heated cheeks as he speaks softly to her. “You’re bein’ so shy.”

It’s so adorable, he thinks to himself. 

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” he reassures. “M’starving. Did you still wanna go to lunch?”

She perked up at his question, the book in her bag eventually forgotten, just as she wished. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

“Can we get—”

“Chinese?” his face lights up. “Please please please?”

“We had that last weekend.” 

“So? S’the best food ever, and since when do you turn down chinese food?” he rests his head on the table. “I’ll help you with French Lit.”

“Compelling argument, I didn’t know you were taking a debate class.”

“So funny.” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, please?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

“I love chow mein so much.” 

Y/N’s words barely register in his ears, let alone his brain as he admired the sight of her, eyes closed in bliss as she slurps another noodle.

She’s just so fucking cute.

“I love you so much.”

“What?”

He’s sure his heart had just dropped into his stomach and his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud! 

“Didn’t say anything.” he mumbles, mentally cursing himself after feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks. He avoids her gaze as he shoves another spoonful of hot and sour soup into his mouth.

“So how’s your story for creative writing going?” she wonders, twirling some noodles with her fork, because no, she didn’t know how to use chopsticks, and yes, Harry never missed an opportunity to tease her about it.

“Awful.” he pouts, to which she mirrors his expression. 

“You stuck?”

“Very.” he groans. “Just can’t seem to get the words out, y’know?”

“I’ve been there.” she nods. “Do you want some help?”

“Please.” he begged, giving her puppy eyes. “S’due next friday, been workin’ on it every night and still can’t get a single word out.”

“I think you just need to take a break, babes.” she offers. “Let’s have a sleepover this weekend and I’ll help you.”

He gives a sigh of relief, making her laugh. “You’re a gem. What would I do without you?” 

“Your life would definitely be less exciting.” she notes, taking another bite.

He was silent for a moment, probably thinking of a comeba—

“At least I know how to use chopsticks.” 

“You won’t teach me!” she pouts at his teasing. “Quit being mean.”

“Want me to teach you?” he perks, peering up at her.

“Yes.” she lets out a breathless giggle while nodding. 

He playfully huffs, slightly rolling his eyes as he moves to sit behind her on her bed. 

“Okay, so you hold them like this…”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary, 

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him. I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend? Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his. How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much. Sometimes I feel like I should just tell him, bite the bullet, rip off the band aid and hope to God that our friendship isn’t ruined forever. In a perfect world,

Y/N drops her pen at the vibration of her phone.

Harry is calling…

“Hello?”

“We’ve known each other for how long and you still answer with hello?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you having a bad day or are you just making fun of me for shits and giggles?”

“Lil bit of both, yeah?” she can hear the cheekiness in his voice. “We still havin’ a sleepover this weekend? Might have to do it at yours, Niall’s havin’ a party and I doubt we’ll get anything done.”

She could hear the sheepish tone in his voice. “Oh no, if you wanna be at the party we can totally reschedule.” she offers.

Harry scrunches up his nose. “Need to get this paper done, m’never gonna finish it with all the noise.” he’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Besides, I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”

She feels her heart flutter at his admission, cheeks tingling with heat.

“ Okay...can you bring some snacks?”

There were no two humans on earth that loved fruit more than Harry and Y/N. so around fifteen minutes later, when Harry showed up to Y/N’s door with two smoothies, she melted like sugar. 

“Berry for you.” he hands you the icy purple smoothie in his left hand. “Strawberry banana for me.”

“Awh, thank you!” she gently pinches one of his cheeks. “You’re so sweet.”

“Oi, worse than my mum, aren’t you?” he rubs at the newly pink cheek. 

“No.” she defends. “C’mon, I’ll help you with your story so you don’t drag it out all weekend.”

“I resent that.” he mutters, sitting beside her on her bed as he flips open his laptop. 

“Do you have an idea of what you wanna write?”

“I have a little bit finished, now, about five thousand words. Wanna have a look?”

Y/N reads it over and it’s nothing short of a masterpiece so far. How can he be so pretty and talented at the same time?

“This is beautiful,” she gapes, turning to look up at him. “This is so good, H.”

“Oh, stop.” He sheepishly brushes off her praise. “Don’t think it’s bad so far, just need to come up with a conflict.”

“Just figure out what breaks your characters, what makes them the most vulnerable, what would completely crush them?”

“Losing each other.”

“More specific?” she tries, staring at the screen in front of her. “It’ll help with the details.”

“Rory’s afraid to tell Daisy that he’s in love with her.” he says. “He’s afraid that, if she finds out, it’ll ruin their friendship.”

Y/N’s lungs felt empty, like all the air had been sucked out by Harry’s words.

“Okay, um,” she gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “So...write about that, and see where the story takes you.”

Three hours later

“Can we take a break?” he groans, laying back on the pillows of her bed. “M’starving.”

“Me too.” she pouts, fiddling with her hands. “Whatcha hungry for?”

“Mmm,” Harry thinks for a few moments before speaking up. “A veggie grill just opened up downtown, we should go there!”

“You’re making me crave nachos.” 

“You always crave nachos.”

“Why do you always have to call me out?” she whines, giving him a bashful glance.

“S’fun, innit?” he smirks, nudging her shoulder with his bicep.

“No.” she giggles, lying down next to him. “I’m gonna go get a shower then we can go.”

“Okay.”

An endearing smile adorned his face as she snuggled slightly into the soft pillows. Her eyes leisurely blink at him, falling closed after a few seconds.

“Sleepy?”

“Mhm.” 

“Thought you wanted a shower?” he hummed. Although, he wouldn’t mind staying here all night. “You can stay here, I’ll go pick up some food.”

“No, it’s okay.” she yawns, pushing herself up off the bed. “I’ll be quick.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Harry gets bored easily, although his best friends room was much more lovely than his. He thinks his room is pretty basic; but Y/N’s room was much more charming. The walls were painted a pale ivory, decorated with fairy lights above her bed, which was dressed with a crisp white comforter and matching pillows. The knitted plum blanket that Harry had gotten her ages ago for Christmas was at the end of her bed. He vividly remembers when he had given it to her.

Her eyes were sparkling with joy as she pulled the blanket out of the box.

“Your mum helped me make it.” he mentions with a sheepish smile. “She was so patient, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

“It’s beautiful.” she beams, pulling it close to her heart before looking up at him as they sat on the floor of Harry’s living room. “I love it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but he feels melancholic energy surrounding him. He keeps telling himself that he didn’t have a reason to be sad, because they weren’t together...but all he wanted was for her to be his. She was so cute, beanie snug on her head under the glow of the Christmas tree.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” 

To which she nods. “Of course.”

“Do you think,” his lips are pressed together in thought for a moment. “Do you think that fate is real?”

“Like kismet?” she cocks her head with a smile and he nods, breaking into a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, like kismet.”

“I think,” she takes a moment, fumbling with her hands before looking up at him. “Yeah, I think it’s real.”

Ten thousand words. Harry has to write ten thousand words by next Friday and he doesn’t have a single word typed out. Creative writing was supposed to be fun, and he had to write a romance fiction piece? Harry didn’t exactly thrive when it came to love. In fact, his love life was bone dry, to put it lightly. Other girls were...boring, compared to Y/N. Harry was charming and romantic and sweet and loving—but he didn’t want some random girl, he wanted Y/N to be his girl. Pining over her was his full time job, always has been.

He walks over to her desk, admiring the pictures that graced the wall just above. One of the photos that catches his eye is Y/N, probably about three or four, and her dad is reading her a bedtime story, her mum most likely being the one taking the photo. Sorrow washes over him, because it never gets easier, does it?

His eyes float to a few photos of Harry and Y/N laying  next to each other on their friend Jess’s parents house on the terrace. It was the first time they’d ever gotten drunk and they were trashed. The first photo is them attempting to sit up for a picture.

“You guys are so drunk.”

“M’not drunk.” Harry glances at Millie and Jess, who were behind the camera. “M’Harry! Who’s drunk?”

Harry’s rebuttal left both of them bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Haz, Jess wants a picture of us, pleeeeaaaase?”

Harry holds himself up by leaning back with one hand on the ground, the other arm slung around Y/N’s shoulder. He then turns to nuzzle his nose into her hair.

“Y’so pretty.” he murmurs drunkenly into her ear.

“Shut up, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, m’serious.”

 The last one from that night was them cuddling on the sofa at the end of their night, Harry’s face nuzzled into her shoulder as they slept soundly well into the afternoon.

His fingertips brushed across his favorite photo of them. They were working together at the bakery, and Harry had just traced his flour dipped fingertips in a line across Y/N’s cheek before she retaliated by sweeping some icing across the bridge of his nose. He grins from ear to ear at the memory.

“Hey Y/N, guess what?”

She turned around to face him when he abruptly drew a line with his flour dipped fingertips across her cheek.

Her jaw went slack at his bold action before icing was swiped across the bridge of his nose.

“Now we’re even.” that is, until she flicks some of the remaining blue icing from her fingers onto his face. 

“Aw, c’mon!” he wipes his face with his apron before narrowing his eyes. “Really?”

“You started it.” she pointed out and Harry gave her a shrug.

“I am so gonna get you back the next time we bake at my house.”

His eyes fall down to her desk, and he promises he didn’t mean to see it. It was his name, in her handwriting, written in purple gel pen inside an open book. Was it a journal?

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary, 

Shit.

He looked away for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. Should he read it? No, but he couldn’t help himself. 

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him. 

Him? Who’s she talking about? Does she like someone? The empty feeling in his chest isn’t a good feeling by any means. 

I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend?

All the color drains from Harry’s face. 

“Is she talking about me?” he murmurs.

Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his. 

His heart flutters at the mention of his name, aching at the next line. 

How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much. 

He felt like he was going to cry. How could this girl not know how much of a sucker he is for her? His heart thumped inside his chest and he could feel the heat radiating off his flushed cheeks.

Okay, don’t panic. Just calm down, don’t freak out.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had just read whilst trying to decide what to do. Does he just tell her? Show her the page? No, she’ll be so angry that he read her diary, who does that? 

In that moment, he chooses to do the only thing that makes sense.

He listens to his heart.

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚  ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

She’d just hopped out of the shower when she heard a knock on her bathroom door.

“Hey, s’just me.” Harry’s voice clarifies through the wood. “Already ordered some food, m’gonna go and pick it up, I’ll be back.”

“I can go with you if you want-”

“No, s’okay! Be back in fifteen.”

And he’s gone.

After exiting her bathroom, she changes into some comfy clothes before deciding to read something from her book collection until Harry gets back. WHen she turns to go over to her bookshelves, she sees it.

A familiar lavender book, her diary, was lying open on her desk, and her heart sinks. Had he read what she’d written earlier? That must be why he was in such a hurry to leave! She probably scared him off. Y/N’s heart was racing as she stepped closer and realised that the page the diary was open to wasn’t written in her handwriting.

It was Harry’s handwriting.

Hi lovie, it’s Harry. 

I was too nervous to tell you this to your face, so I’m gonna write out my feelings. 

You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I absolutely adore everything about you. 

I love how you talk in your sleep, and yes, you do talk in your sleep. I know how much you love to snuggle when you’re sleepy or sad or you just want a cuddle...and how you still sleep with a night light on like when we were small. You always tell me it’s so you can see in case you need to get up and have a wee in the middle of the night, but I know it’s because you’re still scared of the dark.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was she dreaming?

I love how you crinkle your nose when you laugh, and how your smile glows like moonlight and how you play with your hands when you don’t know what to say. I love your love for books, and how much better your taste in music is than me. I love how you love to snuggle, especially when you’re...inebriated.

She giggles silently to herself, because he was so right. Not that he was any better.

I could go on forever, but I don’t wanna get caught writing this.

I am so in love with you, Y/N.

Love, H. x 

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. Her heart was warm, but she was so nervous. What does this mean for them? How will this affect their friendship? Hundreds of questions run through her brain until she hears a knock on the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” she whispers. “Okay, just... be chill, please be chill.”

Trying to calm herself down in a matter of seconds was pointless. Walking over to the door, she took a deep breath in before opening the door.

“Hi.” he blinks at her, letting out a light laugh before setting down the two paper bags in his hands. “M’back. They didn’t have the-”

“I read it.”

He avoids her gaze and he feels frozen by her words, digging his vans into the carpet.

“Harry.” she breathes. “Say something.”

His eyes flicker to meet hers, taking a step forward.

“I...I love you.”

Y/N feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest, like she just came for air after being kept under water for too long. 

“If this makes things weird, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, but I love you to pieces and I-”

“I love you too.” 

His smile is pure joy before he takes her hand in his, pulling her closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” he begs, almost breathless. “Please.”

She nods, and he cradles her cheeks in his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.  

His lips were so soft, moving with hers like they were made for each other.

Harry was sitting on the edge of her bed, her thighs straddling his hips and she sat across his lap. Her hands were in his hair, the fluttery tendrils twirled around her fingers. His hands are settled on her waist, slowly moving to her thighs.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs the serious question against her lips and she nods quickly. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” he breathes. “M’just checkin’.” 

“It’s okay.” she laughs breathlessly against his lips. “Everything's okay.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back slightly to look at her, searching for any sort of doubt, but there was none.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

His voice is cautious. “M’not goin’ anywhere, ever. Don’t have to rush anything.”

“Just go with the flow, H.” she murmurs, sliding her hands up his clothed biceps.

“Sorry, who are you?” he raises his eyebrows, a baffled expression on his face. “Since when do you ever go with the flow?”

“A lot of things have changed today.” she confesses, hands resting on his shoulders. “Why not?”

They’d always felt so safe with each other, so now was no different. 

They both dived back into the kiss. Harry’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, testing the waters before lips and tongue worked together to deepen the kiss.

“Wanna ride my thigh?” he wonders, mumbling against her lips. “Don’t have to if-”

“Yeah. yes.” she gulps, moving to slide her shorts down while he shuffles out of his jeans. Once they were both without pants, they didn’t waste anymore time.

“C’mere, darlin’.” he flicked his fingers, encouraging her back onto his lap.

“Just feel my touch.”

The tone of his voice was unbelievably hot, raspy and low as their lips continuously brushed. His hands grip her hips, guiding her movements.

“Feel good?” he suckles on her bottom lip, drawing a whimper past her lips. She’s rocking against his bare thigh, coarse hair stimulating her even closer to the edge.

“Feels so good, Harry.” 

Her moans are nothing short of melodic, chasing her orgasm through the lace. He pushes her t-shirt up, kisses are decorated down her neck until his mouth is on one of her breasts. She tilts her head back at the suckling sensation with another moan, and it’s so fucking intoxicating to Harry. His tongue flicks her nipple a few more times before lifting his head.

“Like that?” he hums, moving to cup her breasts. She nods and his thumbs start to tweak her nipples and she arches her back at the feeling.

“Harry.” she whimpers, gripping the material of his shirt in her fists. “Please.”

“Whatcha need, tell me darlin’.”

“M’gonna come, m’gonna come.”

He gives a thick moan, hands moving to hold her backside. “Know you are. C’mon angel, you can let go.”

His sweet words coax her through her orgasm as she’s coming down, and she feels like she’s floating.

“Did you like that?”

“Mhm.” she nods, her eyes fluttering closed as Harry’s hand brushes some baby hairs off her forehead. “Wanna keep going.”

“Jeez, at least let me take you out to dinner first.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 93 - Campfire Stories Part 3

Okay, final chapter of Campfire stories, then we are back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans.

Chapter 93: Campfire Stories, Part 3

After Tyche’s story, we took a break to get stuff for s’mores - Charly, Conor, and Simon had teamed up on me, swearing a camping trip was incomplete without them. In lieu of the traditional fire, we were heating them with a short-term portable unit, only good for ten minutes, tops. While I wasn’t worried either way, not particularly liking marshmallows, Charly had taken it upon herself to do rather rigorous testing and assured everyone that the desserts would turn out right.

Once everyone who wanted it had sticky fingers, Conor politely swallowed his fourth sugary concoction. “These are too good, you know?”

“No such thing,” Simon argued. “Be as suspicious as you like, but I firmly believe in taking whatever joy we can get out of life and not pointing it out. Hoping God doesn’t notice, if you get my drift.”

I chuckled, while Arthur looked alarmed. “I did not expect that from you, lucky bastard.”

Simon shook his head furiously. “No. I know I wasn’t in the After, but life on its own was unfair and unjust enough before that. When you get those small moments of ecstatic delight - love, a good dinner, a happy dog, a chance to be kind - you just take it, and don’t let the universe know. Life never apologized for being harsh, I’m not going to apologize for any scrap of happiness I could find.”

“But some things can be far too good,” Conor insisted, picking his teeth thoughtfully. “My family always warned against things like that.  The things to be afraid of weren’t the… scarred or damaged ones, but the ones that are flawless. That’s how you spot them, right?”

“Spot whom?” Grey asked, trying to wipe chocolate from their fingers.

“Witches, at least the evil ones. Fae. That sort.” He scrunched his face thoughtfully and leaned back. Tyche arched a brow, and he lunged to point at her. “See? That. You and Sophie arch that brow so much that it’s permanently just a wee bit higher than the other. That makes your face your face. But a face that’s entirely symmetrical? It’s so wrong that even artificial intelligence makes a point to avoid it.”

“Uncanny valley,” I offered, nodding.

He nodded to me. “Exactly. It’s uncanny. Not just in people. I was warned away from perfect circles in nature as a boy. Stones, a patch of grass, any perfect circles.  Fairy circles, they called it.  My parents told me about a girl who lived near where they grew up, didn’t listen about the woods. Said there was a stand of trees in the woods with a clearing in the middle.”

“Conor -” Charly tried to interrupt.

He waved her off. “The clearing wasn’t a normal one, see? It was exactly perfect, ten feet across from tree to tree, even if they never got an accurate count of trees. Da said twelve, Ma said sixteen. Nan swore blue it was ten. But all agreed that clearing was ten feet across, tree to tree.”

“Con…” This time it was Maverick, glancing around furtively.

Still, he kept on. “What made this clearing so memorable, were the trees around it.  Like a snowflake, they were. Closer, but just as even between. Seven feet, precise, no matter who measured it.  Then five.”

“Conor, please,” Charly begged, scooting closer to her partner.  Even Coffee was giving the clearing a serious gaze at this point.

“The worst part, though,” he soldiered on, “was what told them it was clearly either a cursed place or a Mound: the trees themselves.  Any one of them gave a normal person shivers and turned them back if they looked.  The trees, you get, were just as bad as the woods themselves. Completely symmetrical, like a spoked wheel.  And each ring of trees was exactly the same height, taller ones around the clearing.” He huffed a bit before continuing. “And this girl… this girl, you see? She’d been warned out of those woods since she was knee high to her da. But she kept wandering off, after cats and butterflies and a pretty flower here and there…”

Simon and Maverick were scowling at the trees around us at this point, with Maverick scooting closer to me and periodically glancing at Tyche to make sure she’s still there.

“One day, when he was about sixteen, Da says he saw the girl - she was maybe ten - taking off down the path, pretty as you please. At this point, he knew about her: Doreen.  Dreamin’ Doreen. Ten years old, cute as a kitten, and prone to wanderin’ off. So he followed her, makin’ sure she didn’t get in trouble, right?  And at first, she’s just… toddling off, if that’s what you can call it for a ten-year old. Right down the trail, not a step off, dead center.  But then.  Then she just turns, takes a hard left off the trail, between the trees, like she’s following something.

Da was right behind her, only looking away for a second at a time to make sure nothing was coming up on them. After about a half hour of this, he barely registered that the trees were thinner and… odd. Something about the trees bothered him, but he swore he couldn’t figure it out at first. Then, he turned back, and Doreen was gone. No sound, nothing. Just… gone. He started looking for her, thinking she couldn’t have gotten far, but after about five more steps, he saw the clearing.

Even panicked, he knew not to set foot in that clearing.  He screamed and screamed for Doreen - they heard him all the way back in town, came running, and he was still hollering for her. When they started to drag him away, he fought ‘em off until Nan stopped him.

Nan grabbed his arm, pointed to a tree, right on the trunk. Those trees were so… perfect… that the damned bark looked like tile on a pillar, not like real bark. Every piece, just as pretty and even as you please.  The leaves were the same, could be folded in half and look like they were cut instead. Da swore blind that lookin’ up through those branches was like looking through a bike wheel, the branches were so even-spaced. ‘They din’t look like trees, son,’ he always told me. ‘They looked like trees were described to a sculptor who never seen one’.

To the day they died, they swore that place was a faerie ring, that Doreen got taken by the Sidhe. No one ever found any of her, not a hair, not a bone, not even a scrap of her clothes,” he ground out, frustration clear. “Worse, there was never any proof, ever, that a person had ever stepped foot in those woods. Not even DNA testing on something a person plucked and handed to a researcher, with video proving it happened. Never did figure out what happened in there, not to Doreen or anyone else.”

By this point, Tyche was looking suspiciously at the clearing, and that set of alarm bells in my head. “Conor,” she drawled slowly. “You do realize that the clearing we’re in is… really rather round, and ten, maybe eleven feet across?” He just grunted, staring into the light emitter like he had been since the end of his story. “Conor.” Her tone was firm and more emphatic. “You just told that story in a clearing of fourteen trees, ten feet across, with just enough space between the trees outside for tents. Maybe seven feet?”

When he didn’t respond, she scowled at him and stepped close to a tree.  Maverick tried to stop her, but she flung off the arm he reached out. “You shit, these trees… Grey. Can you and Charly come here?” Charly shook her head vigorously, while Grey cautiously stepped over. After a couple minutes, Tyche made a point to stare down Charly, firmly gesturing as politely as possible to stand right here please.

Eventually, all three were looking up at the branches over their heads. Far from her hesitation earlier, Charly marched over to Conor with what I could only describe as ‘intent to kill’.  While I looped an arm around her waist, she flailed with all four limbs at him. “You rat faced walnut! You did this on purpose! Lemme down! Let me at him!!!”

To his credit, he flinched away from the angry ball of woman I was keeping away from him. “Char! It was a joke, I swear!” Peeking around his hands, he still flinched a little. “It was just a prank.”

That last word seemed to deflate her entirely. Suddenly, instead of a brunette bundle of possessed weasel, I had a very calm woman gently patting my elbow. “You can let go now, I won’t hit him.”

Hesitantly, I set her back on her feet.  Glancing back at Coffee, he nodded, so I relinquished my grip on her entirely. She pushed her hair out of her face with both hands and spun to sit beside her partner. My face must have shown my confusion in brilliant technicolor. “It was just a prank,” she clarified. “I got fooled. I’ll figure out a way to get him back,” she waved nonchalantly.

“Without including me or Maverick?” I asked, arms crossed.

“Shoot.” She bit her thumb. “Yeah, I can do that. It’ll just be harder.”

“I doubt it would be harder than a prank three months in the making,” Arthur pointed out, still looking at the trees with suspicion. “Three, right?”

“Four,” Grey corrected, staring impassively at the bark on the tree. “How did you get the bark to grow in a tile pattern?”

Conor rubbed his neck and grinned abashedly. “A razor, when they were still young enough the bark hadn’t split naturally?  It was just a score, to make specific weak points where it would split better. And I stopped when I couldn’t reach anymore.”

With that comment, Coffee surged to his feet and stalked to the closest tree.  After a close inspection and a not-at-all-discrete rub of his hand over the tree bark, he nodded. “I can confirm the bark is much more random above seven feet. The detail is very well done, though.” He glanced back at Conor with an impressed expression. “Four months planning did not go to waste.”

“Thank fuck,” Conor chuckled. He looked over his shoulder at Simon, who was still running a careful hand over one of the trees.

“I didn’t know this was possible,” Simon admitted. “You did this with a razor?”

“Trees split into bark when the outer layer gets so dry and firm that it stops stretching,” Grey explained. Conor pointed at them, choosing to be silent. “Since any substance in nature splits along the weakest point, scoring the young bark with a razor, especially if done repeatedly, would cause the bark to split along the scores.”

A dawning look shot across Simon’s face, echoed by a matching expression on Charly’s. “Conor,” Simon ventured. “These trees were force-grown until they were planted. How often did you score them?”

“Two, three times a day?” he winced. “I didn’t want to damage them, so the cuts were really shallow until the bark started to establish. Just so I could tell where to keep scoring.”

“Do we have co - Oh! Thanks, Mr. Farro!” Charly grinned sunnily at Arthur.

“Just… just Arthur right now, okay?” He carefully capped the thermos of hot chocolate.

“Right, you bet, Mr. Farro.” He winced, but she continued blithely. “I have to admit, four months on a prank is a lot to invest, but it paid off.” A careful sip of her drink, followed by a marshmallow coming from nowhere and dropping in. “You literally cultivated a stand of trees to pull this off. Well done, sir. Very well done.”

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[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 3 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Hotel-Bound Feelings

Warnings: some sad feelings, but mostly a lot of bonding fluff 

Welcome to part 3!!! I've been so excited about this fic that I've been writing every night so if you're reading, please let me know if you think I should keep uploading parts! I love hearing from you guys!! Love you all, darlings, enjoy😘💙

♡♡♡

“Did you see how much toilet paper I used?” Sonic gushed as he jumped up and down on the bright red motel bedsheet. “The next time someone goes in there, they’re going to have to use their hands!”

Y/n giggled, standing up on her knees and turning her hands into a finger gun, pointing it at the lampshade while Tom scooped up some homemade ice packs. “The brawl was intense, hands being thrown in every corner of the bar. The odds were against us…”

“But no one could best the Blue Blur, Star Chaser, and Donut Lord!” Sonic finished for her. “Scratching another one off my bucket list!” He flopped down to the nightstand and scratched off the one labeled “start a bar fight.”

“Very ambitious of you,” Y/n joked, flopping onto her back and letting her hair dangle off the side of the bed. Tom made his way over to the other bed and sat down on it, handing Sonic and Y/n each an ice pack while pressing his own against his face.

“You are one weird little dude. You’ve got a lot in common with Y/n,” Tom sent her a smug smile. She brushed some loose strands of h/c hair back and pressed the ice pack against her throbbing temples. Y/n had been one of the lucky few to have not gotten punched in the face, but she did get hit in the head by some airborne nachos. Sonic watched the two for a little bit and mimicked Y/n, pressing it against his cheek. 

“So what are we going to do now?” He asked excitedly, his ever constant adrenaline still pumping and ready to jump at whatever was next. Tom began taking off his shoes and plopping them on the floor as he glanced over at the TV set.

“I’m going to pass out watching TV, and the two of you should, too.” 

“But it’s my last day on earth!” Sonic protested, leaning against Y/n’s stomach. She slowly pushed herself up to sitting position and glanced over her shoulder at her dad. 

“I mean, he has a point,” she nodded. He sighed.

“Alright, well, anything the two of you can find in this room that might be noteworthy, have at it.” He plopped down onto the bed and in a couple of minutes, Y/n and Sonic could already hear the soft snores coming from his mouth. And he didn’t even have to turn the TV on. Sonic took this as his opportunity and flew around the room, tossing toilet paper like confetti, screwing with the TV guide, and doing… something in the bathroom. In a matter of seconds, he was already back on the bed next to Y/n, wearing a towel on his head and no shoes.

“Good times,” he smiled. The girl couldn’t help but giggle, leaning back against the headrest of the bed and staring at the TV. Sonic had left it on the news, and just as she concentrated on it, she suddenly saw two photos float across the screen.

Her stomach dropped.

“Y/n and Tom Wachowski have been accused of committing acts of domestic terrorism. They are to be considered armed and dangerous. Any information of their whereabouts must be-” She quickly shut off the TV before she could hear any more. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared blankly at the spot where she had seen her mugshot. 

“Hey, N/n, you okay?” Sonic’s voice snapped her back into reality. She glanced down at the hedgehog sitting cross legged in front of her, looking into her e/c eyes with pure concern. 

“I’m fine,” she offered him a half-hearted smile, running a shaky hand through her hair. “Just a little nervous… hey, what is this new planet you’re heading to like?” Sonic’s expression grew solemn as he began messing with the fabric of his gloves.

“It’s pretty horrible really… it’s a world full of nothing but mushrooms and breathable air, no humans. No friends. No Donut Lords or Star Chasers…” He drew off. Y/n felt her heart ache for him. She felt horrible knowing that her one new friend was now being forced to live on some planet with no other humans on it, and all because of what? Because he was different? When it came down to it, Sonic was probably one of the greatest, funniest, kindest people she had ever met.

“I’m really going to miss it here… I know I have to leave earth to keep everyone here safe, but what if Longclaw was wrong? What if I could have a life here on earth?” He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Y/n felt her heart deflating in her chest. It was so sad, so heart wrenching to watch this little blue ball of excitement become so dejected. All that he wanted was a home, someone to hang out with and love. People who wanted him to be around. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” she spoke slowly, almost as if she were afraid to say the words. "It isn't just because of the deja vu, I swear. You just… you're the only true friend I've ever had. And I hate seeing you unhappy…" His emerald eyes widened to the size of saucers as he stared at the girl before him in shock. The whole time he was on earth, he had to stay a secret. The only friends he had ever truly had were himself, no one even knew he existed until now. So the fact that this beautiful girl was sitting her in front of him, telling him that she didn’t want him to leave and that she hated to see him so unhappy? Well…

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Sonic breathed. His heart pounded against his chest so loud he was scared that she would be able to hear it. Luckily, his fur was able to hide the blush that was rising on his cheeks. What was happening? Why did he feel like throwing up rainbows? 

Y/n smiled warmly at him, her eyes glittering from the faded light of the lamp. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had, or that I can remember having anyway. That’s what friends are for.” Sonic leaned back on his hands, eyes scanning Y/n’s thoughtfully.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are insanely easy to talk to? I don’t know, I just feel like I’ve known you all my life,” he chuckled softly, being serious for a rare moment. Usually he was all hyped up and sarcastic, but right now was one of the times where he was completely and utterly serious. Y/n pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on her knees.

“I mean, maybe we did at one point. Who knows? I don’t remember a thing of my life up until I was twelve and got found in the woods.” Sonic went quiet for a moment, debating whether or not the question he wanted to ask would come off as offensive. But finally, he decided to put on some big boy pants and ask.

“...What is it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Not remembering who you are,” Sonic spoke softly, terrified to hurt her feelings. But luckily, Y/n simply gave him a small smile and looked down at the rough bed sheets, collecting her thoughts in her head. She grew silent for a moment before she finally lifted her head up once again.

“It’s… complicated. Every morning I wake up. I can hear the sound of my mom cooking breakfast downstairs. It’s gotten to the point where I can guess what she’s making by the sound of the utensil she’s using. I get up out of my bed, and leave my room, and walk down the stairs and give my dad a hug just before he leaves for work. And then I have breakfast with my mom and we talk about anything and everything. And… for a little while, I feel like I actually belong there. I feel like they are my actual family. But then I go outside, and things… are different,” she sucked in a shaky breath though her lips. “Everyone else knows exactly who they are. They know what weed killer works the best for their plants, they know where they were born, who their parents were, what they looked like when they were babies, what their favorite midnight snack is… what their last name is…

“And then I’m just standing there, not knowing any of that. There aren’t any records of me in any of the hospitals or law agencies. It’s like I didn’t even exist on this planet. And while some people can be patient and loving with me, others… can’t. My heart is still beating, and I’m breathing and I’m here. But for what? What purpose could I possibly have when I can’t even answer basic questions about myself? Tom and Maddie have been the only people to make me truly feel welcome… and then you came along.” The smile slowly returned to her lips at the mention of him. He waited patiently for her to continue, hooked onto every word she was saying. “I’ve never met anyone like you before, and not just because you’re a hedgehog. It’s just… you. You make me feel like I belong somewhere, and, god, I’ve never laughed harder or had as much fun as I have with you with anyone else. You make me feel like I’ve known you my whole life and yet I’ve only known you for a day. It’s insane,” she chuckled, shaking her h/c locks. 

Her laugh was contagious as Sonic found himself chuckling before long too. 

“Well, I still made a promise to you that I plan to keep,” he began. “I will find a way to help you remember. Everything will be okay in the end.”

“How do you know?” Y/n asked curiously. Sonic simply shrugged, smiling.

“I just have a feeling.” A moment of comfortable silence floated between the two as they stared at one another. Y/n felt her stomach become full of butterflies, then finally giving up their hesitance to fly around freely in joy. The feeling of nostalgia had become something that she enjoyed experiencing as it helped her feel like she had a closer connection with the bright blue hedgehog. Maybe they did meet sometime in her life and she just forgot about it for whatever reason. Perhaps Sonic could help her find a way to remember, though she had no clue how he planned to try and accomplish it. Sonic hadn’t the slightest clue either, but he did know that he would be willing to run to the ends of the earth in order to make her happy. 

No, it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t make any sense! Were they… falling in love? 

“Um,” Y/n cleared her throat, the time suddenly becoming very apparent to her as she glanced down at her snoring father. “We should probably get to bed. He wants to leave by eight.”

Sonic nodded rapidly, tossing the towel off of his head and onto the floor. Y/n chuckled, not having even realized he was still wearing it. “Right, I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be silly, you can sleep in the bed too,” Y/n moved the comforters down and slid her legs underneath the sheets. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor and my dad tends to be a cover-hog.”

Sonic scrunched up his features in slight uncertainty, not wanting to make things awkward between him and his new friend. However, she had already made up her mind.

“Sonic. Get in bed.” She ordered. He quickly nodded and dove under the covers, snuggling up on to the pillow and letting out a surprised sigh. Back in his cave, he had only ever had a bean bag chair that he absolutely adored to sleep on. But a bed? It was like what he imagined sleeping on a cloud to be like. The pillow molded around his head and the blankets kept his body warm. It was like being wrapped up in a hug by a marshmallow. Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“Never slept in a bed before?”

“It. Is. Amazing.” He slowly lowered his face under the covers until only his eyes could be seen, staring straight at Y/n. She laughed, getting comfortable in the bed as well after turning off the lamp next to the bed. As they settled in the darkness, staring at one another (hopefully without the other knowing), their breaths began to slow down as the drowsiness finally kicked in. But just before they nodded off, they were reminded of each other.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” Sonic whispered.

“Goodnight, Sonic.”

♡ a.a.

[sakuwriteshere]

Pretty Little Liar : Chapter 1

Summary: Dean Winchester and Y/N Y/L/N are roommates for less than 6 months. One day, after she’s back from work, Dean asks her to be his fake girlfriend in front of his mother. This story will follow them through their journey and Dean will learn how much a tiny, innocent lie can turns into the most beautiful thing in his life and turns into a real disaster the next second.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader (main), Arthur Ketch x Female!Reader

Other pairings: Sam Winchester x Jessica, John Winchester x Mary WInchester

General warnings (for the whole story): Fluff, comedy, angst, sexual innuedos, roommates AU

Beta reader: @irebloggbecauseiappreciateyou. A big thank you to Rosaline! She did an amazing work in a very short time. Thank you! 💖

Words count (this chapter): 4172

A/N: This mini-series is very dear to me, I like it a lot. I’m a huge fan of fake dating stories and I really wanted to write mine. I hope you’ll like it. Don’t hesitate to share your opinion about it, comments are LOVED! If you want to be tagged, just send me an ask 😉

This story will be updated every Wednesday!

PLL Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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

Chapter 1:

Have you ever realized how wonderful life is? Have you ever felt like nothing can stop you, that you’re at the top of the world? One day you’re waking up, like usual, feeling down and not in the mood to start another boring day but then something comes up and everything around you feels ten times better.

This is exactly how Y/N is feeling right now, bouncing down the streets, her steps light as a feather, feeling like she’s floating through the crowd. Today is the best day of her life despite how it had started. She hadn’t heard her alarm clock, waking up 30 minutes late and had to rush everything to be sure she wouldn’t be late. Of course in her hurry she spilled some hot coffee on her brand new baby blue shirt, burning the skin just over her right breast in the process, this stupid action resulting in making her later than she was already. 

Once she finally arrives at the coffee shop, her boss is quite clear and loud about the fact that it would be the very first and last time she is late, next time she doesn’t even need to come in. Then the day passes like usual, slow at the first hours of work, then very busy and hectic from ten to twelve, and finally, Y/N can take a breather during lunchtime.

“Y/N?” Charlie’s voice makes her jump as she’s shaking the little bottle of dressing meant for her salad. “Someone’s asking for you.” The way Charlie stresses the ‘someone’ piqued Y/N’s interest. Her tone is only meant for one person, and in a second Y/N is a total mess.

She jumps to her feet, her hands flying at her hair, trying to rearrange the natural waves even though it doesn’t need rearrangement in the first place. Then her fingers fumble with the little pink and grey apron in front of her, a quick glance making sure it was still clean.

“How do I look?” Y/N asks Charlie, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, a nervous habit of her.

Charlie doesn’t check her attire, she knows that Y/N’s look is good, too good for the one waiting for her on the other side of the door, but Charlie is not going to tell her that again. Really, she can’t understand why her friend was so entranced with this guy. In her eyes, Y/N deserves better but you never choose the one you’re falling in love with, right?

“Ok…” Y/N takes a deep breath and puts her biggest smile on her face before walking into the shop. “Hello, Mr. Ketch, you’re asking for me?”

The man turns around when he hears her voice, the bored look on his face replaced by a charming smile and a wink as he leans his forearms on the counter, his eyes following Y/N’s like a hawk but says nothing as she comes closer.

“The usual?” She asks, a ready to go paper cup already in her hand, her eyes avoiding his, as she feels the blush covering her cheeks.

Ketch nods once and checks her out shamelessly once she has turned over, getting his tea ready.

“I know this is your break,” he finally says, his british accent giving Y/N goosebumps, she just loves that thick accent, it makes the butterflies in her stomach twirl even more. “But it would be a shame if my favorite barista isn’t the one serving me my tea.”

Y/N giggles at that while Charlie rolls her eyes with a shake of her head, then fakes a gag as her eyes make contact with Y/N’s. Y/N frowns discreetly at her, silently ordering the redhead girl to stop, she composes herself before turning around and handing Ketch his drink.

As her hand reaches the money he puts on the counter, Ketch stops her movement by grabbing it, surprising Y/N slightly at the unnecessary pressure.

“You. Me. Saturday night.” Ketch says, not an ounce of shame in his voice. “So? Yes or yes?” He adds, leaving no room for her to decline his offer.

Taken aback by him suddenly asking her out (it’s a date, right?), Y/N’s mouth opens but there’s no sound coming out. Charlie is praying with all her might for her friend to say no but only frowns when she hears her accepting.

Ketch’s smug smile grows bigger, his eyes roaming over her body one last time before he straightens up and takes his drink.

The bell over the main door dings as he opens it but doesn’t leave yet.

“Try a shorter skirt next time? I’m sure it will look lovely on you, Love.” He says loudly without even looking at her. Y/N’s cheeks grow hotter at the inappropriate comment and she lowers her eyes to avoid any customers’ eyes, her hands nervously clasped over her apron.

Truth to be told, Y/N is over the moon. She’s been waiting for this for so long! After three months, Ketch finally decided to ask her.

Charlie watches her coming back in the back room so she could finish her lunch, her arms folded over her chest and a shoulder resting against the doorframe.

“Are you really going?” She has to ask because Charlie can’t really understand how her friend finds him attractive. Given Charlie’s tastes are more the feminine type but she can still appreciate a man from time to time, and Arthur Ketch was anything but a man. In Charlie’s mind, he was more the Devil.

Y/N’s munching on her plain salad, swallowing her mouthful before answering. “Of course! I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Charlie sighs, unfolding her arms before walking closer and taking a seat next to her friend.

“I don’t know what you see in him, really.”

Y/N sighs, pushing her salad on the side, knowing another argument is coming she lost her appetite.

“First have you seen him? He’s handsome.” She pauses, hopeful that one fact was enough to end the argument. Charlie’s unimpressed face told Y/N she’s waiting for more facts. “Second, he seems interested in me.”

Another silence, shorter this time. “That’s it?” Charlie shrieks. “You’re not going to tell me it’s because he has a cute smile, or that you’re losing yourself in his eyes, or I don’t know...He has a great personality? Come on, Y/N there’s nothing here. You don’t even know him!”

“Well, that’s what dates are made for. You need to date someone to know that kind of thing.” Y/N shoots back, she’s so happy that Ketch finally asked her out, she’s not going to let Charlie's useless worries ruin it.

***

Once her shift is over, Y/N is walking back toward her apartment, feeling like she’s dreaming and making a mental note to check what she’s going to wear for her first date with Ketch. Her phone suddenly vibrates in her pocket, signaling her that she has a new message. Thinking of it, Ketch only gave her the day, not the time or even a place they are supposed to meet. Surely the message is from Ketch, giving her all the details she needs. As she taps on her screen and unlocks her phone, she wonders if he has her number. She doesn’t remember giving it to him.

The name on the screen tells her it’s not Ketch. She will have to wait for more details about the date. No, the one who texted her is only her roommate: Dean Winchester, and the message as short and dramatic as possible.

‘Need you ASAP. Life or death emergency.’

She reads the text and can’t help but roll her eyes. Y/N knows exactly what his emergency is, they ran out of beer. The previous message she had earlier that day was from Dean as well, asking her to buy beer on her way back from work. Well, she already got the beer, and texting him back with only one free hand was too troublesome, her place is only around the next corner anyway, the man will have his load of beer very soon.

Fighting with her keys in front of her door, Y/N curses quietly when she lets them fall on the wooden floor. As she bends down to pick up the keys, she startles when the door opens suddenly.

“Sweetheart! You’re finally here!” Dean’s unusual happy voice booms in her ears, surprising her. She never thought he would miss beer so much.

“Oh, and you even thought about the beer. You’re really perfect! Come in, let me help you with these, huh?” He adds, his voice level particularly high, she doesn’t know why.

Dean doesn’t give her the chance to think more as a hand circles her free wrist, pulling her with him into the little kitchen. She doesn’t even have the time to take off her shoes. As they cross the living room in a hurry, Y/N notices a woman sitting on the couch, she can’t see her face clearly because in a blink she’s standing behind the counter in the kitchen, Dean’s hands holding both arms in a death grip.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” He asks in a whisper, without even looking at her as he’s busy checking behind him.

“Wh-what?” Y/N stammers, her brain blanking out for a short second.

Dean doesn’t explain anything to her as the unknown woman from the living room enters the kitchen.

“Dean, sweety? Everything’s alright?” A blond, middle-aged woman asks, stopping at the kitchen door. The worry on her face subsides quickly and an enigmatic smile creps upon her lips when her eyes fall over Y/N.

“You must be Y/N.” She deduces as she comes closer to the counter and offers Y/N a hand. “I’m Mary Winchester. Dean’s mother.”

Y/N blinks, looking between Dean and Mary, before her brain registers the similarities between the two. Absentmindedly she shakes Mary’s hand loosely but remains silent, because what can she say? Once she had put a foot in her apartment her brain refused to function properly anymore, everything was happening too fast for her.

Seeing the distress on Y/N’s face, Mary gives her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry I’m not an overbearing mom and to tell you the truth I was leaving.” She tells Y/N before focusing on her son.

“Your dad is coming to pick me up in a few minutes, you know how impatient he can be.” She laughs quietly, leaning over Dean to kiss his cheek, then she looks at Y/N with a strange look on her face, as if she’s debating with herself.

“There’s no need to be shy, we’re family after all.” She announces, deciding to give Y/N a hug as a goodbye.

Mary readjusts the strap of her purse over her shoulder, looking at the both of them lovingly before walking towards the main door. “Don’t worry I know the way. See you on Friday, kids.” Her voice booms from the main entrance before the sound of the door closing resonates.

“Well,” Dean lets out a sigh, plunging his hands in his pants’ pocket, his gaze still fixed on the spot where his mother was a few seconds ago. “I think it went very well! Good job, Y/N!”

The strong clap on her back breaks out from her hazy mind and Y/N comes back to her senses.

“What the hell Dean?”

Dean doesn’t seem to be bothered by her outburst, shrugging he takes a beer bottle from the pack Y/N had just bought, uncaps it, and takes a long sip.

“Told you it was a life or death emergency.”

Y/N plants both of her hands on the counter separating them, looking at him angrily. They don’t know each other very well, being roommates for a bit less than six months.

Dean Winchester is a mysterious man for sure. He’s not very talkative but still polite. The kind of man wearing plain t-shirts, flannels and jeans but he’s also really tidy, maybe more than her. The only chaos Y/N seems to notice is his love life, or more precisely, his sex life. She has never seen so many different girls going through the walk of shame because of one guy only. Dean Winchester is a womanizer for sure, it’s easy to understand it just by looking at his ad when he was looking for a new roommate: ‘Non-smoking women only’. Usually, Y/N would ignore that kind of stupid ad but the location was only a 5 minutes walk from her future new job and the rent was really, really, really cheap. She had to at least check. Dean is one very handsome man, saying the contrary is a lie; light brown fluffy hair, a pair of vibrant green eyes, a body built with just the right amount of muscles, not too much or not enough, and a cute pair of bow legs. To make it short in three words: a greek god.

The apartment is really huge and Y/N has to make sure she read the rent correctly. Dean assured her that he doesn’t need a roommate actually, but he’s feeling lonely in the huge apartment since his little brother left him to go living with his girlfriend. They both agreed to keep it strictly platonic, two roommates, and nothing else, then Y/N moved in the next week. That was almost six months ago and until now, Dean has been the perfect roommate so far.

“Don’t let her fool you. My mom can be scary.” Dean assures her, her silence as she reminisces their first encounter making him uncomfortable. “She’s bugging me about dating someone all the time and this time I had enough, so I lied.”

She can understand him as she has the same problem with her mother, asking her again and again when Y/N will settle down for good, as if being in a relationship was the ultimate goal. Y/N sighs, taking a beer for herself and drinking a huge sip.

“I feel you, really, but lying is not the solution Dean. What will she say when you’ll show up alone the next time? Didn’t she say something about seeing you on Friday?” Y/N asks, taking a seat and nursing her beer.

Dean nods and mimics her from his side. “My parents' 40th anniversary. I’ll just say we broke up.” He shrugs, he hasn’t thought about it yet.

Y/N scoffs at that and shakes her head. “You just announced that you’re in a relationship and two days later you’re single again? She’ll see right through it.” She laughs some more, taking another sip.

“Or you could come with me? Dean asks suddenly, a smile curling up his plump lips, satisfied with his new plan.

Y/N is quick to react. “Oh hell no. No! I’m not lying to your parents on their wedding anniversary. No way.” She declares, standing up and walking into the living room, Dean following right behind.

“Y/N, please! I’m begging you!”

“No. Why don’t you ask one of your conquests?” She asks, crossing her arms upon her chest and letting her body fall heavily on the couch.

Dean chuckles and sits next to her, his knee bumping hers. “Because my Mom knows your face. It has to be you.” Seeing that she’s giving him the silent treatment, Dean adds “It’s just for the weekend, after that, I promise you we’ll break up!”

Her body’s wiggling slightly as Dean shakes her knees and Y/N thinking about it, because she never says no when someone asks for her help, she’s too stupid, she knows that. As she’s going to give in, the mention of the whole weekend feels like an electric shock.

“How long exactly?” She asks suspiciously.

Dean smirks a bit because he can feel she’s going to help him. She’s really a nice girl, he made the right choice choosing her as his roommate. “I’m leaving on Friday early in the morning and will come back by the end of Sunday.”

“Then sorry I can’t help.” Y/N’s resolute words resonate in the living room. “I have work and...something already planned on Saturday night.”

“I’ll take care of work!” Dean exclaims right away, making Y/N’s eyebrows furrow at his sudden confidence. Dean clears his throat “What are you doing on Saturday?”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed by his question. Y/N braces herself, looking at anywhere but Dean as she mumbles inaudibly.

“I have a date.” She repeats a bit stronger after Dean says he didn’t hear her.

“Then postpone it.” Dean’s quick to reply back with a shrug of his shoulders as it’s not such a big deal.

“I’m not postponing it! I’ve been waiting for … quite some time.” She finishes her sentence in a lower voice, feeling stupid to justify herself.

“Who it is?” Dean sighs, running a hand in his hair as he’s thinking about another plan to explain why he’s single again.

“Ketch.” Y/N can’t stop herself from saying his name, a shy smile on her lips.

“Ketch?” Dean parrots the name that sounds familiar. “As Arthur Ketch?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah! Forget about postponing, Y/N, and simply cancel the date.” Dean advises her, his voice deeper as his concern grows. “He’s just trash. He’s a womanizer and you deserve better.”

Y/N stands up, defending her crush. “Like you’re better! Each day, there’s a new woman leaving your bedroom! Who do you think you are to tell me who I have can date or not?”

Dean’s mouth shuts tight at her anger. She is right, they are nothing special, only two roommates, not even friends, they barely know each other. His shoulders droop and he bites his inner cheek to prevent any more comment. Without saying anything Dean disappears into his own room, leaving her alone and bothered. She’s going to do just like him when the phone in the corner of the room starts ringing. With one last glance towards Dean’s closed door, Y/N picks up the phone and breathes deeply, soothing her nerves.

“Hello?” She says, forcing a smile.

“Y/N, dear?” Mary’s voice comes on the other side of the line. “Dean forgot to hand me my new passport, could you think about bringing it to me on Friday?”

“Y-yeah. Of course.” Y/N stammers distractedly, looking for the mentioned item and spotting it right on the coffee table. “I’m putting it in my purse right now so I don’t forget it.”

“Ah, such a smart girl! I knew my little Dean would find the perfect woman for him. Can’t wait to learn more about you. See you on Friday, sweety.” Mary’s delighted voice rings into Y/N’s ears, making her feel bad because she just lied a bit more.

“See you on Friday, Mrs. Winchester.”

***

The next day, Y/N’s in charge of the mid-day shift so she has time to sleep in. She’s only waking up because a delicious smell invades the apartment, taunting her nostrils even in her room. Her eyes flutter and Y/N groans as her stomach grumbles. Sleepily she emerges into the kitchen, bumping only twice on the walls on her way.

“Good morning.” Dean acknowledges her presence, a small smile on his lips as he sees her sleepy face.

“Morning.” Y/N yawns, dragging her feet on the wooden floor until she sits at the counter, her hands cradling her face. “Smells delicious.”

“This is an apology for yesterday,” Dean explains, pushing the scrambled eggs into two plates before throwing the pan into the sink. “So help yourself, we’ve got pancakes, eggs, bacon, french toast, coffee and fresh orange juice- I pressed it myself,” Dean says proudly before he sits opposite to her.

Y/N eyes fly over each item on the table, her stomach making more sounds as the different aromas mixed together, creating the perfect, delicious smell. In the end, she opts for a huge cup of coffee and french toast. Dean pushes the jar of jam towards her but she shakes her head no.

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” Dean asks, fumbling his eggs with his fork.

“No, no.” She’s quick to reassure him. “I understand you meant well. You were a douche by doing it but still… I appreciate the concern.” She smiles and Dean gives it back.

They eat in a comfortable silence, the previous argument quickly forgotten. As she’s thinking about last night, Y/N remembers Mary’s call and the decision she has made.

“Your mom called yesterday, she forgot her passport.” Dean rolls his eyes, cursing about the stupid item, the one for which Mary came especially for. “I told her we would bring it back on Friday.” Y/N adds in a lower voice, unsure of Dean’s reaction.

“We?” Dean repeats, his head snapping at the implied meaning.

Stirring her coffee, Y/N shrugs nonchalantly, avoiding eye contact. “If I can change my shifts for this weekend and if I can postpone my date with Ketch, then I’ll come with you.” Once her explanation is over, she chances a glance at Dean who’s staring at her, a bit lost with her change of heart.

“I’m not making any promises.” She lowers her face again, finding her black coffee more interesting suddenly.

“Thank you.” She knows by the tone of voice it’s genuine.

***

Later that day, Y/N is anxiously waiting for her boss, asking for a change of shift isn’t a problem usually but since she came in late the day before, she’s not really on friendly terms with her. Anyways, she needs to take care of her date with Ketch first before any other change. Speaking of Ketch, the bell over the front door dings announcing a new customer, and exactly the one she was hoping for.

“Good afternoon Mr. Ketch.” She welcomes him cheerfully, her heart beating hard against her ribcage.

“A good afternoon indeed, love.” Ketch greets back, his gaze scanning the whole room before he looks at her.

Y/N doesn’t waste time to get his usual order reading, while the water fills the paper cup, she tries to think of a nice way to announce she’s not available on Saturday anymore.

“Um...Mr. Ketch, about Saturday…”

“What’s on Saturday?” Ketch hums absentmindedly, scrolling through his numerous messages on his phone.

“Uh...Our date?” She tries, blushing horribly.

“Hum? Oh right.” He stops for a short moment, reading a particular message, not even once does he look at her. After texting a short reply, Ketch tucks his phone in his inner pocket and grabs the paper cup that Y/N had just put in front of him.

“I’m being pretty busy so I have no choice but to cancel. Don’t worry, love, I’ll keep you informed when I’ll be available again.” His british accent is like a slap in her face.

“O- Ok.” Her voice is not above a whisper. She’s not even sure he had heard her but he left anyway.

Well...one problem down, another one left.

Once her boss finally came in and went straight for her personal office. Without wasting a second, Y/N knocks on her door and enters right away, that’s how her boss asks them to do, Y/N thinks it’s a strange habit but who is she to judge her boss.

“Rachel, I wanted to ask you if- I know it’s sudden but something came up and…. It’s a family thing you know? So I was wondering if I could have my weekend off? I’ll need Friday and Monday as well if possible? I know it’s a lot to ask and I will understand perfectly if you don’t…” The more she speaks the more flustered she gets, Y/N doesn’t even know what she's talking about anymore.

Fortunately for her, Rachel’s answer comes quickly. “Ok.”

“O-Ok? Really?” Y/N blinks, completely baffled with how easy it was. Surely there’s something more to it, it couldn’t be that easy.

“Yeah, ok.” Rachel reaffirms her previous statement, her eyes scanning the paper in front of her. When she notices that Y/N’s still here and doesn’t say anything, Rachel lowers her paper and stares at her employee.

“Business is slow right now. I think Charlie and Garth will be enough for a couple of days.” Y/N gauges Rachel’s reaction, but she seems sincere.

“Ok then...Thank you, Rachel.” Y/N takes her leave, her brain having a hard time to comprehend what the hell happened.

Well at least, there is nothing that prevents her from helping Dean with his little lie now. As she takes off her apron and folds it with care, Y/N thinks about the little getaway she’s going to, God knows she needs some fresh air and a few days to relax.

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

Pour Toujours tags:  @drakelover78​​​​, @akshi8278​

PLL tags: @eliwinchester99​, @paiswhite​, @vicmc624​, @metalfangirl

[waywardfacegarden]

Hey there! I saw that "ask me about my fic" post and thought I'd ask some questions!! Specifically regarding your "The sun is too bright, it hurts" one; questions 1, 3, 4, 7 and 8? 👀

Hello there!!! First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, YOU’RE SO NICE!!!!! ;---; Honestly, I love you so much.

Second of all, AAAAAH, THAT FIC. I really love that one, is one of the first works I did for my boys!!!! I have a soft spot for it. (That said, I actually reread it to answer this LOL, because as much as I remembered a lot of it, I also didn’t remember a lot of specifc dialog/narration of it, haha.)

Answers under the cut because I, somehow, managed to do this unnecessarily long, LOL. I’m sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope you don’t mind me babbling a lot about my own fic, haha.

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Well, I was inspired to write that AU because I’m weak for the idea of Sasuke and Naruto being childhood friends!! Haha. And I just easily pictured them growing up together with their families being friends. It’s something that I think would happen in a modern au, and I really wanted to explore the relationship of two people growing up together, being there in all of their different phases (and the challenge of having to write them at different ages, because as much as the essence of who they are is the same, they don’t act exactly the same, you know?), knowing each other better than anyone else. They would come to love every single one of the aspects that makes them them; like, even if something must be annoying, it’s endearing for the other at this point, and I find that very tender and soft.

As for the way that it’s written, I find it easier to guide myself while writing if I divide the story in “short stories/scenes”, so that’s why it’s like that (if you look at my fics, I always “divide” my stories, haha). I also really like the narrative that goes, for example, “October. 1990. 15 years old.”, because, (for me at least), it’s so much easier to imagine the environment/context/scene like that? It also gives me off movie vibes, tbh😂😂

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I apologize in advance because I’m going to make this reply excessively long, even when the ask is so simple😂😂 While I was re-reading, I found a lot of quotes/parts that I liked a lot, so please indulge myself and look at all my word vomit, lol (the parts in bold letters are what I especially love about that specific excerpt):

[[AH! AND ALSO! I realized I made a LOT of grammar mistakes in the fic when I was re-reading today, it’s kind of embarrassing ahhh, haha. It needs heavy editing, huh. But anyways, so, in some lines here, I changed some words for what I actually wanted to write/what’s grammatically correct, now that I know more about english, haha. So in some lines they’re a bit different from the actual fic.]]

My favorite, favorite line, for reason, is this one:

Sasuke’s heart flutters on his chest, like flower’s petals in the wind, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

I don’t know, I really, really, REALLY love metaphors and I like the way it was phrased here?? Like, the words I chose sound so pretty for me, haha.

My second favorite line is this one, simply because I’m a cheesy dork:

Sasuke does not know when he fell in love with Naruto; he probably was always a bit in love with him.

Another lines of narration I really, really love:

His love for Naruto reminds him of that. Destruction. Storms, tornadoes. Because it’s brutal, too intense, too strong. It is inexhaustible. It’s unexpected and unpredictable and it makes his stomach ache.

^^ That one is just. Really what I think Sasuke feels like about falling in love, and more than anything, falling in love with Naruto, so I really love it. I have an obsession on making love sound messy and chaotic, too, tbh, haha. Guilty.

[…] and his voice sounds tired, because he’s tired, he can’t stand it anymore, and he’s stupid, stupid, stupid, because Sasuke wants to cry, and because Sasuke wants to kiss Naruto while he cries because Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking, but he can’t, he can’t and that’s hard.

I really like this one because I honest to God think Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking (and I’m saying this like a good thing, he’s my favorite disaster, haha). He’s just, idk, really a disaster, and I can easily picture him having a meltdown because he loves Naruto so much that he can’t even stand it, and he’s tired of hiding it, and he’s tired of everything, and he just wants to fucking cry but he also wants to kiss Naruto AND kiss Naruto while he cries, even if that’s weird. Idk, Sasuke just strikes me as the kind of guy who would want to kiss the love of his life while crying, LOL.

[…] he’s so close that, for a moment, the only thing he can see is blue. Blue, blue, eternal, endless, inexhaustible, precious blue; that swallows him, that overwhelms him, that suffocates him.

I remember being so proud of this part because, as you can see, I’m obsessed with Naruto’s eyes😂😂 And then when I showed the story to my sister she laughed her ass off here LMAO. She gave me A Look. LOL. She saw through me like a book, she knows I just tried to sound poetic but I suck LOL. But I still really like this part.

And Naruto is smiling, and Naruto is there and everywhere and Sasuke wants to drown in him.

So he does. 

ASDJLFJLSDFKDL. The idea of Sasuke wanting to drown in Naruto is just. I love it, lol.

He kisses him as he should be kissed. […] He kisses him and Naruto kisses him back and Sasuke almost sighs. Because it feels so good to be real; because it feels like falling into bed after a long and tiring day. It feels like a hot shower against your aching body and like the emotion you feel when climbing a roller coaster.

For some reason, I love writing kisses, LOL, and I wanted to convey so much through this one. Like both of them have been wanting to kiss the other for years, now, but you could feel Sasuke’s desperation especially, and I really wanted the kiss to feel like “God, finally, finally” but also “this is it. This is what home feels like”. I feel like it probably still lacks something, but I still like how I put it into words.

[Now, I really hope you don’t hate me for this LOL, but I’ll add the complete parts I like, even when they have dialogue. It’s this case where bold letters are the lines that I especially love about the part.]

Naruto takes a step forward, a long one, and cuts the distance between them. Sasuke’s heart flutters on his chest, like flower’s petals in the wind, like a butterfly flapping its wings. Naruto is so close that Sasuke can see the three soft freckles on his cheekbones. He can distinguish each one of his golden eyelashes shining against his eyelids. He can see the way the iris in his eyes is darker on the edge; the shape of his lips, cracked, that make Sasuke’s mouth become very dry. And heck, they are moving, so Naruto is talking.

-

“Sasuke,” Naruto says, and his voice is soft and soothing in the loneliness of the hallway. His fingers are like burning embers when he places them on his shoulder. “Look at me, Sasuke.”

And Sasuke obeys. He turns around and looks at him, and Naruto has a storm inside those pretty eyes, and Sasuke just wants… he just wants… “Honestly, I would kill myself if I had that face.”

God fucking dammit.

“He was talking about you.” He answers, finally, and his voice gets stuck and tightens in his throat.

Naruto blinks, surprise flooding the light blue of his eyes. “Oh,” he says, so low that if they were not four inches away in a desolate corridor, Sasuke would not have heard it.

“Itachi is waiting for me.” He says, because he really wants to leave; he wants Naruto to stop looking at him like that.

“Itachi asked me to check up your injuries, Sasuke. Itachi is not angry. I guess he deduced what happened, he’s smart, so…”

“I’m not hurt, Naruto. Now let me go.”

Naruto stops pressing the cold gauze on the torn skin of his knuckles. The soft fabric burns and itches on his skin, but not as much as the way Naruto keeps looking at him, hell.

-

They are 15 years old and Naruto is the most beautiful boy he has ever seen. Naruto has grown up and he’s taller now, almost as tall as Sasuke is, and has the most beautiful blue, cerulean eyes (beautiful as the clear water of the lakes, beautiful as the sky on summer mornings), and long, blond eyelashes and cute lips and messy hair kissed by the sun. He’s gorgeous. And maybe Sasuke is paying too much attention, but hell, it’s hard not to.

They are 15 years old and Sasuke would hit a three-meter bully for that boy. Sasuke would do anything for that boy.

-

He says, with a smile that covers half of his face. His hair is messier than usual and several blond strands fall on his forehead. His blue eyes sparkle in the darkness. His blue shirt sticks to him in all the right angles and Sasuke thinks if you were not so damn attractive, I would surely kill you right now, you idiot. But he doesn’t say it, because of course, that’s not something you would say to your best friend.

-

“Naruto, I’m not going to get into your father’s van in the middle of the night and drive to a Waffle House at twelve in the morning.”

Naruto seems confused. He keeps his balance on the window frame and raises his hand to show him the set of keys. “No problem, Sas. I have the keys.”

- [I really like this one because just, the idea of them going to a Waffle House in the middle of the night is a favorite of mine, and the dialogue of Sasuke being like “i’m not going to drive to a waffle house at fucking 12am” and Naruto being just like “no worries, i have the keys” because he thinks the problem is that Sasuke doesn’t want to steal the car is so funny LMAO. Also, I live for Naruto calling him “Sas”.]

Damn fucking Naruto. Fuck his stupid heart. Fuck the one who decided up there that it would be a good idea to give him a nice smile and a beautiful personality and the eyes of Gods. Fuck the one who decided it would be good for Sasuke to fall in love with a stupid blonde with a heart of gold, stubborn as hell. Fuck the one who thought it would be a good idea for Sasuke to like his best friend. Fuck the one who decided that Waffle Houses could open for 24 hours. Fuck Naruto with his beautiful eyes; damn, damn, damn and fucking dammit.

- [I LAUGH SO HARD AT THIS PART. Like poor dude, he’s just so Done about having a crush and being in love with his Best Friend LMAO. I love how he curses the Gods and Everyone and Naruto Especially while also changing and going downstairs to go out with said crush.]

It’s strange that he’s so quiet, but at least Sasuke can look at him out of the corner of his eye from time to time. And when the light from the headlights on the side of the street hits him right in the face, and Sasuke can admire how beautiful he is, how stunning his eyes are and how bright they look and how his hair is gleaming and the so pretty and alluring that is the whole him, all of him… is those moments when Sasuke thinks that, maybe, it was not such a bad idea that Naruto woke him up in the middle of the night to drive to a Waffle House. Maybe, it’s not so bad that Naruto is crazy. Maybe, it’s not so bad that Sasuke is in love with him.

-

You know how in that tragic movie where the girl has cancer she says something in the beginning like “I fell in love with him like falling asleep, suddenly and without realizing it”? Yes, well. Sasuke used to make fun of that, even if Naruto thought it was very romantic. But now, as he sees his best friend smiling in a damn suit that fits his body in all the right places, now that he sees him laughing with the gym lights doing wonders on his tanned skin, now that he is listening to him talk and laugh and just being him, being happy… now he understands it. Sasuke does not know when he fell in love with Naruto; he probably was always a bit in love with him. He does not know when it happened or why, the only thing he knows now is that he is completely, totally, utterly, head-over-heels in love with him, so much so that it is ridiculous.

The realization hits him. Hard and strong against his stomach, like the thousands of stones and heaps of earth in an avalanche. Destroying cliffs, roads.

His love for Naruto reminds him of that. Destruction. Storms, tornadoes. Because it’s brutal, too intense, too strong. It is inexhaustible. It’s unexpected and unpredictable and it makes his stomach ache.

It’s like when you have a leak in your house and you do not fix it and you probably don’t realize the damage it is doing until after weeks the hole on the cement floor is too big to ignore. It’s like the snowball that is falling and growing on the steep hill that you don’t notice until it’s too late.

It’s just like that.

And the realization is so big and so brutal that it terrifies him, because Sasuke not only loves Naruto, Sasuke is in love with him. He loves every damn part of him in the rawest and realest way possible and it scares him so much that he can’t stand it.

-

“Naruto. I’m not in the mood,” he says, and his voice sounds tired, because he’s tired, he can’t stand it anymore, and he’s stupid, stupid, stupid, because Sasuke wants to cry, and because Sasuke wants to kiss Naruto while he cries because Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking, but he can’t, he can’t and that’s hard.

-

[…] he’s so close that, for a moment, the only thing he can see is blue. Blue, blue, eternal, endless, inexhaustible, precious blue; that swallows him, that overwhelms him, that suffocates him.

He’s as close as that time when they…

“Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot.” He says, his breath warm against his own lips.

[…]

He’s as close as that time when they kissed.

Naruto is kissing him, Holy…

It’s abrupt and so sudden and Sasuke has not closed his eyes, (Sasuke can’t even believe it to begin with, because they’re kissing), but Naruto does, so he can see the thin, long golden lashes that flutter softly against his own cheekbones. They tickle him. He can see the cascade of hair on his forehead and the mess of color on his skin and everything is so familiar. The cracked feeling of his lips, the blue so close, the hair that tickles Sasuke… It’s making him dizzy. Everything is so familiar, and yet so different at the same time. It’s coarser, stronger.

Naruto doesn’t seem to know what he is doing though; he just keeps pressing his lips so hard against his that Sasuke thinks he might knock a tooth out of him. His fingers continue to cling to his tie, crumpling it between his fingernails, and it’s…

Sasuke doesn’t care. Because Naruto is kissing him, and even if he’s clumsy, Naruto is kissing him, and his heartbeat thunders into his ears, the blood rushes in his veins and everything is chaos.

With Naruto everything is chaos.

Like the storms.

Like hurricanes.

Everything is too intense and strong and…

-

“You know what?” He says, and he continues laughing, but not so much anymore. “Ino said you would make exactly that face.”

Sasuke blinks. What?

“Did you tell Ino about—” Sasuke doesn’t quite know how to define it, even if he’s supposed to be good with words, so he just manages to move his hand between them in a movement that Naruto would do, and adds, “—this?”

Naruto gives him a sideways little smile. “Actually, I told Shikamaru, Ino was just there.”

Once again. What?

“What?”

Naruto grins. Bright and toothy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Sasuke, teme. You’re easier to read than you think.”

Sasuke is about to yell at him because what? But then Naruto’s smile softens, and it’s sweet and tender and intimate. And the words that come out of his lips moments later roll off his tongue and roll up through the air and dance and spin and hit Sasuke with such force that he practically staggers.

“I love you too, you bastard.”

It’s too much.

And Naruto is smiling, and Naruto is there and everywhere and Sasuke wants to drown in him.

So he does. He takes a step and closes the distance between them and drowns in him.

One of his hands takes him from the suit and brings him closer while the other slips behind him and mixes with the strands of hair that are too soft against his skin. And then he kisses him again. He kisses him as he should be kissed. He kisses the brain out of him and leans against his personal space and enters his bubble of warmth, the warmth that radiates from every pore of his being. He kisses him and gets drunk with his smell and his skin and all of him.

He kisses him and Naruto kisses him back and Sasuke almost sighs. Because it feels so good to be real; because it feels like falling into bed after a long and tiring day. It feels like a hot shower against your aching body and like the emotion you feel when climbing a roller coaster.

It’s all at once.

Rawly intense and gently soothing.

It’s chaos.

And he kisses him again and again and again and again and again and again and again until he loses the count.

“You know what?” Naruto says in a moment. His voice is agitated and his breathing is uneven and unsteady and he is trying to pull more air inside of him. And his lips are a little swollen and Sasuke kisses him again, short and fast, before he speaks again, because Sasuke can’t help it and stop now. “Now that I think about it, I’m much better at expressing myself than you are.”

“Shut up, usuratonkachi.”

Naruto laughs. And it’s the most beautiful thing Sasuke has ever heard before.

ALSO. I absolutely ADORE the part where they’re 15. Like, how Sasuke keeps thinking “Naruto’s too much” because his sole presence overwhelms him, the fact that he keeps thinking about kissing him, the fact that he can’t take his eyes off him, the fact that he hit someone so freaking hard because they said they would “kill themselves if they had that [Naruto’s] face”, the fact that he was jealous of girls noticing Naruto because of his looks, because “yeah, Naruto was so goddamn attractive (he keeps thinking about touching him, wondering about how his skin would feel against his fingers, wanting to touch his face, his hair, daydreaming about his eyes. Dude is just Gone LOL), but ALSO, would yOU DUMB GIRLS HEAR ABOUT HIS STORIES ABOUT RAMEN??? WOULD YOU HEAR HIM BABBLE ABOUT HIS FAVORITE DUMB MOVIES AND POP MUSIC??? WOULD YOU??? WELL, I DO!!!! SO FUCK OFF!!!!!!” LMAO. I LIVE for Sasuke’s Gay Crisis and him realizing he finds his best friend criminally attractive and endearing. 

(I’M SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS ANSWER SO LONG, OMG).

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Because I’m predictable and also because, like I said, I’m a cheesy dork, my favorite line is: “I love you too, you bastard.” It just has so much power, for me. It’s so intimate and I love how Naruto says “too” even when Sasuke doesn’t say it out loud before, because Naruto just knows. It’s so gentle, even when he’s calling him “bastard” (that at this point is actually a pet name rather than an insult LMAO).

Bonus to:

“Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot.” 

I really love it LMAO. I like it because I find it funny that it’s what Naruto says just before he kisses him, but also because it’s actually so tender, too??? Like Sasuke was all “MAYBE I DON’T LIKE YOU ANYMORE, HUH?!?! MAYBE AFTER ALL THESE YEARS I FINALLY GOT TIRED OF YOU”; he’s throwing all this drama but he’s actually spilling his heart out and Naruto can see all through it, he can literally see what he’s actually thinking, and it just. Hits. Hard. So he’s just like, “I’m gonna cut this bullshit right here” and goes “Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot”, with a tone that basically means actually that, like “sasuke, you fucking IDIOT. i KNOW. i KNOW. stop hurting yourself”, and it just gets me, haha.

“Do you want to go to the prom with me?” […] “I’m serious, Sas. I want you to go with me.”

I was so excited when I wrote those two lines. Again, I’m weak for Naruto calling him “Sas”, and I wanted so bad Naruto asking him to prom. Even if it’s not with a big gesture, it FEELS like so much for both of them. And I wanted to make sure that it sounded like he wasn’t joking around, even if he made the proposal “easier to digest” by phrasing it later like he was asking Sasuke just because he was his best friend and he wanted him to have fun with him (which, yeah, but he also knew about Sasuke being in love with him, and Naruto was, too, so he was just being assertive in the situation, trying to make it easier for Sasuke because he knows him, and he knows how big it already feels like for him just being asked as a friend).

“Because I want you to take your head out of your ass for a moment and have fun with your best friend?”

Naruto telling Sasuke to take his head out of his ass is my favorite thing ever LMAO.

7. Where did the title come from?

To be honest, I’m TERRIBLE to put titles. I always forget to name my fics, because I focus on the story itself first, haha. I always save the docs in word like “childhood friends au sns” or “christmas au” or things like that, planning to actually name them later, but I ALWAYS forget to do it. I always remember when I actually have to put a name to it because I’m about to post it on AO3 and it asks me for a title first, LOL. So, basically, this one (and all my other titles) came up last minute. I have always liked when Naruto is compared to the Sun (I do it at the end of the fic, too, haha), and I thought the fic itself revolves around Sasuke’s love for Naruto, Sasuke’s journey to get to know Naruto and fall for him, and Sasuke realizing his feelings and being constantly overwhelmed by them because of they’re so strong and so deep and because Naruto just feels like Too Much sometimes (in a good, messy way) to him. So I thought it was accurate to call it “The Sun is too bright, it hurts”, because for me, it basically encompasses what the fic is about: Naruto is too much sometimes that it actually hurts Sasuke, because he Can’t Handle Feelings and it’s Suffocating and Overwhelming and Scary, but it’s okay at the end, because Naruto feels just as much as him. (I actually wanted to add “but it’s okay” at the end, but I felt like it was too long already LOL).

8. Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

It’s not actually real people or real events, but I actually based the scene where Sasuke saves Naruto from getting run over by a car from one of my favorite, favorite scenes in Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. It’s a lot like the one there in the book, but I found it a very Sasuke Thing to do, and I also liked how it lined up with the fact that “Sasuke’s feet moved on its own” in actual canon. Boy is willing to give his life for Naruto in any universe and I respect that, LOL.

The scene where people were talking shit about Naruto’s face is based from a scene I watched on the movie Wonder. I always cry with the movie and I had just watched it before writing the fic, so I wanted to write something based on that scene because it got me hard.

It’s also pretty obvious, but the accidental kiss is there because I absolutely Love it and I have mad respect for Kishimoto for that, so if I can, I’m going to make that accidental kiss happen in every single fic I write for them LOL.

Anyways, that would be all!!!!! I’m so sorry for making this hella long, lol, but I’m honestly so happy you were curious about this fic!!!! Like I said, I have a soft spot for this one, just as much as I have a soft spot for SNS. They will always be my favorite boys and my favorite ship ever. And I really enjoyed re-reading my own stuff and remembering my feelings while writing it years ago. AND IT JUST. MEANS A LOT TO ME???? This fic is from YEARS ago, and the fact that you ask about it just means more than I can express with words. SO, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, HONESTLY.

I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING AN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT. I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BEYOND. HOPE YOU’RE SAFE, OKAY AND HAPPY. <333333333333333 LOTS OF LOVE FOR YOU!!!!!

[this-sapphic-paradise]

The One With the Massage

Kara and Nia talk about Kara and Diana’s relationship

A commission for @rookie009 and beta’d by @lena-lipbite-luthor

rated E 

ko-fi // commission info

“One more?” Kara asked Nia as she got up from the couch to refill her glass with more wine.

“Yes, please,” Nia replied, following Kara into the kitchen. “So…” She drifted off, leaning on the marble island counter; a small, teasing smile tugging at her lips, “Wonder Woman, huh?”

Opening the fridge, Kara grabbed the bottle of wine and poured them some, rolling her eyes playfully at the question. “Yes. Diana and I are friends.”

“Diana…” Nia drifted off again as if the name meant something more than itself. “I bet Zeus also told Hera all his lovers were only his friends,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow at Kara.

Handing Nia her glass, Kara headed back to the couch speaking over her shoulder, “I-I never said we’re only friends.”

“Ah-ha!” Nia squealed, pretending not to be embarrassed about how excited she was to hear the news. “Tell me, tell me!!” she asked, joining Kara in the living room.

Kara bit the inside of her cheek to try and contain the smile threatening to make itself known as thoughts of Diana filled her mind. “Well,” she started, “as she put it, we are friends with benefits.”

“That must’ve been an interesting conversation to have,” Nia chuckled. “Isn’t she like, hundreds of years old?”

“Thousands of years old,” Kara nodded. “And it was an interesting conversation.”

The main thing Kara remembered about that night was the feeling of butterflies in her stomach from sharing her bed with Diana for the first time. There’s no other option, Kara mentally told herself, I don’t have another bed here, and Diana refuses to let me sleep on the couch… She maintained a chivalrous distance between the two, telling herself it was the right thing to do since Diana did not know about her feelings for her.

But Diana could hear how Kara’s breathing was fast and shallow, and she was painfully aware of how stiff Kara’s body was. Shaking her head good-naturedly, Diana turned on her side and began telling Kara about the first night she spent on the boat with Steve on their way to London, and how reluctant he had been to sleep next to her. “He got so flustered by my asking him if he did not sleep with women,” she chuckled; the sound making Kara’s heart skip a beat. “He told me about men’s idea of marriage, and I told him of Clio’s twelve-volume treatises on bodily pleasure.”

“Twelve??”

Diana laughed once more, “Steve was equally impressed.”

“Twelve volumes,” Kara marveled, looking up at the ceiling. “You must have learned a lot from them.”

“I did,” Diana replied truthfully. Her eyes traced each line and curve of Kara’s profile, studying them attentively in the darkened room. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly lower and raspier, “I learned a lot from my people’s books. They provided me with bountiful knowledge, but wisdom came from experience.”

Diana had been talking broadly about all the years of experience she had had walking among Amazons and mankind, but Kara did not follow her line of thought; she was still thinking about ‘bodily pleasure’ which turned Diana’s heartfelt statement into a spicy admission.

“Uh…” Kara mumbled, her cheeks turning bright red. “We never studied anything of the kind in Krypton, and I, uh… I don’t have tons of experience…” she confessed, thinking they were opening up to each other.

The color creeping from Kara’s cheeks down her neck had Diana confused for a second, but it did not take her long after tracing her own words back to realize what Kara was talking about. Smiling and shaking her head once more, Diana asked playfully, “No teaching how to please oneself and others on Krypton?”

Stuttering and making unintelligible noises, Kara shook her head vehemently, “No! No, no, no, no! We used a birth matrix, for crying out loud!”

As much as it was endearing to see Kara pretending to not be affected by the subject of their talk, Diana became concerned with the answer she got. “Was physical intimacy not important to your people?”

Kara shook her head without taking her eyes off the ceiling. “Being academically versed in your area of expertise was the most attractive thing to us. I mean, I guess attractive isn’t even the right word… I guess desirable fits better.” Kara chanced a look at Diana. “My mother was the equivalent of a judge, and my father was the head of the science council… They wanted their daughter to be smart, level-headed, and thoughtful with her words and decisions, but physical intimacy was not something we concerned ourselves with.”

“Must have been difficult to adjust to men’s world,” Diana offered to which Kara snorted, whole-heartedly agreeing with her.

“You could say that!” Kara laughed, turning to fully face Diana. “Everything on Earth is about sex! Everything you say can be turned into an innuendo with the right—or wrong—tone. Every touch means something... It was hard for me to learn all the social cues. Sometimes I’m still not good at it.”

“I understand,” Diana said softly. “I, too, had to learn all those cues when I left home. You have seen firsthand how different our values are in Themyscira.”

“You’re all straightforward about everything,” Kara chuckled again. “It’d be refreshing if more people started acting like that.”

The words caused Diana’s features to change; she became more focused, more serious, and for a fleeting second Kara wondered if she had said anything offensive.

“Then if I may be true to my upbringing,” Diana started, looking intently into dark blue eyes, “why are you not honest with me about your feelings?” Even in the dimly lit room, Diana could see Kara’s eyes widening in shock. She watched as the younger hero struggled, opening and closing her mouth multiple times without a single word making its way past her lips. “It is not my intention to put you in an uncomfortable position,” Diana continued, and Kara mentally thanked Rao for the small mercy of not having to talk just yet. “It is just… people like you and I, we experience time differently. I know you are still very young, but if you keep postponing making decisions—especially when it comes to your feelings—millennia might go by before you notice it, and you will have lost your chance of living something beautiful.”

Kara knew Diana was right. She knew she hid behind her crest as much as she hid behind her glasses; that being Supergirl gave her the perfect excuse to shut herself off in the name of keeping others safe, but… it came with a price. At times her loneliness felt as vast and as cold as the far reaches of space. “A-Are you… Are you saying you’d want to be in a relationship with me?” Kara asked timidly, trying to get past her embarrassment in favor of fully understanding what Diana was telling her.

Diana’s features softened once more. Kara’s ingenuity reminded her so much of herself, it became almost painful at times. Reaching with a calloused hand, Diana gently cupped Kara’s cheek, saying, “I am asking you to not hide your feelings from me. I am saying that I adore you, Kara, and that I think we will be friends for as long as we live. But you are still so young; your idea of what love is will probably change time and time again.”

“Then,” Kara began; her brows furrowing with confusion. “What does that mean for us?”

“To me, it means knowing that you might want to live a grand romance, and that I cannot be that for you, because I do not wish to tie you to me for eternity without you having enough experience in life to know without a shadow of doubt that I am what you want. It means,” Diana sighed softly, “it means I want you to be happy regardless if I am the one you are seeing at the moment.”

Frowning, Kara sat up on her bed and held Diana’s hand to maintain the physical connection between them. “So… you’re telling me, I can date you and other people at the same time?”

Diana sat as well; her eyes firmly on Kara’s. “I would not be opposed to that,” she replied with a nod. Diana’s free hand combed through her hair, and she muttered in a chuckle, “Explaining this is harder than I thought it would be.” Kara waited patiently for Diana to gather her thoughts. “I guess all I meant to say is: if you do have romantic feelings for me, we can explore them without expectations, and we can do it at your pace. No need to rush.”

“Oh…” Kara said, diverging her eyes to the pillow beside Diana—it was her turn to gather her thoughts. “So, we can be more than friends, but with no strings attached?” She asked, wanting to be a hundred percent sure she understood Diana.

Grinning sheepishly, Diana nodded once again. “What is it that Americans say? Friends with benefits?”

Kara threw her head back, laughing in that contagious manner that was so genuinely her. “I never thought a demi-goddess would ask to be friends with benefits with me.”

Diana laughed with Kara, but her laughter came with a faint blush as she waited for Kara’s response.

“I would actually love to,” Kara finally said, squeezing Diana’s hand reassuringly.

“Then we snuggled and went to sleep,” Kara told Nia who was drinking up every word from the story.

“That was a lot to take in,” Nia said, taking a sip of her wine, “but it was insanely cute.”

“Right??” Kara chuckled. “She was super cute, and I’m glad she could read me so well, ‘cause I’m sure I’d never, ever have mentioned my feelings for her otherwise.”

“I’d be terrified too,” Nia confessed. However, her curiosity was far from sated, and the little smirk she gave Kara warned the hero of that.

“What?” Kara asked, feigning being scared of what Nia would ask next.

“You can’t stop now, Kara!” Nia exclaimed. “Tell me more! Have you guys kissed? Gone to second base?” Nia dramatically raised an eyebrow and stage-whispered, “Third base?”

Snorting at her friend’s antics, Kara teased, “You sound like a high school jock!”

“You can’t blame a girl for being curious!!” she replied, laughing along with Kara.

As their laughter died down, Kara fidgeted with her wine glass. “We’ve done things…” she finally admitted, blushing hard as memories of her last encounter with Diana filled her mind.

“Remember what I told you, beloved,” Diana said, kneeling on the bed next to Kara who was laying on her stomach, a white sheet covering her naked body. “This does not need to lead to anything else.”

“I know,” Kara said, looking at Diana over her shoulder, noticing her lover had changed into a lilac silk robe that did very little to hide her curves. Swallowing hard, Kara proceeded, “It’s ‘an exercise to connect our bodies’,” she repeated the words Diana had said a few nights prior when she had presented the idea to Kara.

Smiling softly, Diana nodded. “Exactly. It can simply be a massage, and nothing more.”

Kara was not one to feel comfortable getting naked in front of anyone, not even her significant others, but her relationship with Diana had started in such an unconventional way, it spurred Kara to try to be more open-minded, to take a few more calculated risks, to dare a little more. So, when Diana proposed they give each other tantric massages, Kara controlled her knee-jerk reaction to immediately say no, and asked instead if they could stop in case it became too much for her. Of course, Diana had promptly said yes.

“All right, beloved,” Diana’s raspy voice caught Kara’s attention once more, and she felt her lover straddling her butt. “Are you ready?”

Kara closed her eyes, an excited little ragged breath escaping her lips. She could feel Diana’s warmth sipping through the thin layer between their bodies; it was soothing and thrilling at the same time, as if Diana was her own personal yellow sun. “Yes,” Kara breathed out shakily.

The lightest of touches brushed Kara’s golden hair away from her neck. It had been the simplest and most innocent of touches, but it still managed to send a shiver down her spine. The reaction was not lost on Diana, making her smile even as she chose not to comment on it. “I will work my way down,” Diana explained, wanting to keep their moment as “surprise-free” as possible in order for Kara to feel safe. True to her word, Diana began by massaging the base of Kara’s neck and ever so slowly worked her way through the Kryptonian’s chiseled upper back, kneading, pressing, and squeezing all the knots and tense spots she found. Kara groaned and whimpered in response to pleasure and pain, writhing involuntarily between Diana’s thighs.

It felt good, too good, to have Kara squirming under her, accidently applying pressure to the perfect place on Diana’s body. It would have been easy to stop the massage in favor of scratching the itch that was slowly turning into a wildfire between Diana’s thighs, but that was not the type of person she was; Kara still wasn’t ready. They still weren’t ready as a couple. So, suppressing her own desires, Diana peppered kisses along the well-defined lines of Kara’s back muscles, and whispered, “This type of massage can elicit very powerful emotions.” She slowly pulled the sheet completely off Kara, exposing her entire body to her for the first time. Licking her lips, Diana continued, “Not from sore pressure-points, but from letting yourself be vulnerable…” she drifted off, respectfully placing her hands on the small of Kara’s back, and asked, “Do you wish me to keep going, beloved?”

Diana was giving her a way out; if she wanted it to stop, all she had to do was say so. If Kara was being honest, a small part of her still felt embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to cover herself up again, but a bigger part of her was ecstatic to become so intimate with someone as caring and loving as Diana; a bigger part of her could not deal with the thought of Diana’s hands leaving her; a bigger part of her was focused on the wetness coating her skin where Diana was straddling her. “Please,” Kara moaned lowly, “don’t stop.”

The way Kara spoke instantly dried up Diana’s mouth while making other parts of her body even wetter. “Anything you wish, beloved.” Her voice was lower and raspier than before, with no effort to hide how Kara affected her.

Shedding her robe and dropping it right by Kara’s head to let her know of her state of undress, Diana scooted lower down Kara’s legs and began massaging her buttocks. Rough, calloused hands were still gentle and precise, touching Kara sensually, making her feel sexier than she had ever felt before.

“Diana…” Her name had never sounded so sweet, Diana thought, licking her lips as the scent of Kara’s arousal assaulted her senses. With a silent prayer to Hera to keep her resolve, Diana continued moving her hands lower, kneading the muscles on the back of Kara’s thighs, calves, and feet.

“Sit up for me, beloved.” Diana commanded softly, readjusting herself until she was sitting with her legs crossed in the middle of the bed.

The moment Kara turned around and saw Diana in all her naked glory was the moment Kara forgot how to breathe. She stared motionless for a while, making Diana duck her head and chuckle. The melodic sound woke Kara from her stupor, and she said sheepishly, “Sorry. You’re just… wow…”

With a faint blush coloring her cheeks, Diana bit her lip and said playfully, “You flatter me.” Kara had forgotten her own state of undress, being reminded of it when she noticed Diana’s warm brown eyes traveling down the front of her body. Then it was her turn to blush. “Do you wish to continue, beloved?” Diana checked in once more.

Smiling shyly, Kara nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She had come so far, Kara did not want to give up halfway through it, especially when the moment she was sharing with Diana was more intimate and satisfying than ninety-eight percent of the dates she had had in her life; and if there was more Diana and Kara could do together, she did not wish to shy away from it.

Grinning, Diana held her hand invitingly. “Come sit on my lap,” she said as if it was the most ordinary request in the world, but it caused Kara to swallow hard. It took her a moment to gather her courage, but Kara slowly crawled to Diana, letting the older woman adjust her legs behind her own lithe figure. “Hi,” she said; her breath tickling Kara’s lips.

“Hi,” Kara sighed softly, leaning in to rest her forehead against Diana’s.

“Thank you for trusting me this far, beloved,” Diana said, gently running her hands up and down Kara’s thighs. “I know it is not easy, and I want you to know how much I appreciate this moment with you.”

“How do you always seem to know what to say to make me feel better?” Kara asked with a small, playful smile on her lips, letting her thumbs caress her lover’s sides where her hands were resting.

“Magic,” Diana replied just as playfully, making Kara chuckle.

Brushing her nose against Diana’s, Kara confessed, “I don’t know if I’ll ever not be nervous when it comes to… me… being, um, naked.” She blushed. “But… even with all my nervousness, you make me feel better. A-And…” Kara averted her gaze for a second, before she rushed to get the words out, “And I want to keep going. I trust you.”

The kiss that followed was not their first kiss, but it was slow, and soft; it was patient, and curious; it spoke a thousand words without uttering a sound. That kiss was not their first, but they made it feel that way. Their lips moved languidly, following in perfect sync to a tune they were creating in their hearts, and slowly Diana lowered Kara back on the mattress without breaking the kiss.

Pulling back before her desire grew too wild to handle, Diana poured more oil on her hands, and gently settled them on Kara’s collarbones, checking in one more time before moving her hands lower, cupping Kara’s breasts in the gentlest of ways. The sweet gasp that escaped Kara’s lips, and the way she involuntarily ground her hips against Diana’s and arched her chest into her lover’s hands made a cocky little smile appear on the Amazon’s lips. “Does it feel good, beloved?” Diana asked, already knowing the answer she would get.

Kara nodded frantically, licking her lips as they had suddenly become dry. “Harder, please,” she begged shamelessly, moaning when she heard a low growl coming from Diana.

“Anything for you,” Diana purred, delighted to see Kara feeling so much pleasure. She squeezed harder, changing angles every now and then, trying to figure out what Kara liked the most. Diana was enjoying the sweet little mewling noises she was getting in response, but nothing could have prepared her for the sinful, guttural moan that fell from Kara’s lips as she pinched her nipples. “Gods…” Diana breathed out, feeling Kara’s arousal coating her pelvis as she writhed in delight against her.

“R-Rao,” Kara stuttered, looking at Diana with her pupils blown out with unbridled desire. “I didn’t- I didn’t know it could feel t-this good,” she panted. “Please… a-again.”

“How can I say no to you, beloved?” Diana smirked, but instead of doing exactly what Kara had asked for, she lowered her head and took Kara’s right nipple into her mouth, sucking it hard before flicking it fast with her tongue. The sound of bedsheets being torn did not give Diana any pause, and she moved to Kara’s other nipple, lavishing it with just as much attention.

Expletives in Kryptonian flew out of Kara’s mouth, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was cursing all her ex-boyfriends for never making her feel this way. “A-Are you using extra strength?” she asked, needing to know if that was a reason why Diana was so good at this.

Pulling back and returning her hands to Kara’s breasts, Diana shook her head. “No. It’s the anticipation and the build up that makes it feel this way,” she replied to Kara’s unspoken question. “Plus,” Diana arched her eyebrow and smirked, “it helps if you are not in a hurry…” she pinched Kara’s nipples again, maintaining eye contact, “if you are doing this to truly please your partner…” A harder twist of her fingers, and Kara was crying out again. “Instead of doing it out of a perceived obligation…” Pouring more oil on her hands, Diana moved along to Kara’s taut stomach muscles so the younger hero could regain her breath, and by the way Kara closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart, Diana figured she appreciated the decision.

Fingers softly traced the lines of Kara’s abs at a lazy pace as Diana took her sweet time savoring the feeling of her lover’s muscles contracting beneath her fingertips. She was lost in her thoughts when she heard Kara giggling, “That tickles,” she said with her trademark charming smile that had won Diana’s heart almost instantly.

“My apologies, darling,” Diana grinned, scooting backwards so she could lean down to pepper kisses all over Kara’s torso. “Better?” she asked between kisses as her hands worked on Kara’s strong thighs.

“Yeah,” Kara breathed out; her eyes fluttering closed at the multitude of sensations washing over her body.

Moving at a leisurely pace, Diana massaged all the way down to Kara’s ankles before making her way back up, stopping at the apex of Kara’s thighs. “Beloved,” she called out, making Kara prop herself up on her elbows. “May I?” she asked, letting Kara feel how close her thumbs were to her folds.

Blushing up a storm, Kara remembered Diana explaining to her what tantric massages were when she proposed they tried it. Kara knew this part was coming, and she had been both terrified of it and excited for it. She looked into her lover’s eye, knowing that once again Diana was giving her the chance to put an end to their little adventure, that Diana would be okay if Kara had had enough stimuli for one day; but the smell of their arousal—both Kara’s and Diana’s—filled the room, making Kara’s head swim with desire. There was no denying how much she craved the other heroine’s affection and touch; so Kara nodded, giving Diana her eager consent, “Yes, please.”

Grinning wide enough to make small dimples appear below her eyes, Diana poured more oil on her hands and said in a sultry, raspy voice, “Keep your eyes on me, beloved. I want to see you.” As soon as she got a small, dumbfounded nod from Kara, Diana cupped her sex firmly, fully expecting the way Kara bucked her hips in response. Using her free hand to rub small circles on Kara’s lower stomach, Diana cooed, “It is okay, sunshine. That’s it… just breathe for me.”

Kara could not wrap her head around the fact that Diana managed be so soothing and sexy at the same time. Her heart skipped a beat at the words, but she did her best to do as she was told.

Once Diana was fairly certain Kara had relaxed enough, she let herself explore; running her fingers along Kara’s outer lips a few times, then switching to the inner ones, marveling at how warm and wet her lover was.

Kara had never had anyone so eager, so curious to touch her, and it felt so much fucking better than she had ever dreamed of! Moaning lowly and doing her best to keep her eyes on Diana’s, Kara gave her a shy little smile, and discreetly opened her legs wider.

Emboldened by her lover’s reaction, Diana said in a dreamy sigh, “You feel so good… so perfect…” And with her left thumb, Diana rubbed small circles on Kara’s clit, teasing the tip of her right middle finger into Kara’s opening.

Words that Diana figured could only be Kryptonian curses tumbled out of Kara’s mouth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and Diana watched as Kara balled the torn sheets in her hands in a desperate attempt to keep herself still. “You are doing so well, beloved,” Diana drawled, getting high on the pleasure she was seeing on Kara. She slowly and carefully pushed her finger all the way inside, relishing at how easy it was to do so. “Gods, Kara,” she moaned, “You’re so turned on for me…”

Nodding frantically, Kara reached out to Diana, begging, “kiss me, please!”

Diana was more than happy to oblige, kissing Kara at the same lazy pace she had begun pumping her finger in and out of her, moving her digit from side to side, exploring her lover as much as she could before adding a second finger and continuing her delicious torment.

“Diana,” Kara called out, her brows furrowing as she desperately tried to keep control over her body; but Diana was pushing her fingers in all the right ways. “I-I’m close… I c-can’t hold-” Kara tried to warn, but she was cut off by Diana’s lips on hers.

“Don’t hold back, beloved. I got you,” Diana promised, curling her fingers up in just the right angle, and with a few more thrusts Kara screamed out in pleasure as her orgasm washed over her, sending jolts of electricity to every single nerve ending in her body.

Diana suspected Kara could go again (and again, and again…) but she did not wish to overwhelm her, so she slowed her movements until her fingers were laying still inside her lover. “You are so incredibly beautiful, Kara Danvers,” Diana smiled brightly, nuzzling Kara’s nose with her own.

Kara’s heart fluttered at Diana’s sweet words, giggling at the Eskimo kisses she got. “Thank you,” she whispered back, wrapping her arms around Diana’s neck. “This… This was incredible.”

“Earth to Kara!” Nia said, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face. “Can you hear me??”

“Huh?” Kara blinked, looking around her and realizing she had completely immersed herself in her memories.

“You were thinking about something naughty, weren’t you????” Nia teased, noticing the blush on Kara’s cheeks.

“Uh… not naughty, no!” She protested weakly. “I was just thinking how to answer your question! And, um…” her blush got deeper, “we have gone all the way. I mean… she has gone all the way with me, I haven’t- I haven’t… you know… reciprocated yet…”

Nia chuckled at how sweet her friend was, and she was about to say something about it when a knock came from the door.

Looking at it and squinting her eyes to use her x-ray vision, Kara squealed, “It’s Diana!”

Nia shook her head playfully, loving how Kara instantly perked up. “Well, that’s my cue to go,” she said, getting up from the couch and grabbing her purse.

“No, Nia, stay,” Kara argued, pouting slightly.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m gonna go over to Brainy’s.” With a devilish little smirk, Nia hugged her friend and whispered to her, “Besides, this is your chance to reciprocate.”

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING DAY 9

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY! Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: Steve, mentions of Sam, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Bucky will never forget his first kiss and his first crush. Specially not now.

Day 9: First Kiss/ Last Kiss , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

His hands are sweaty, he’s ran them over his jeans what feels over a hundred times by now. He’d told Steve time and time again that they should have stayed home playing Doom, he even promised he’d tell Steve how he always beat him at Mario if they had just stayed home, being the nerds they were, but no. Steve was too excited to have been invited to Stephanie Johnson’s party and he refused to believe it was because Steve had definitely grown taller and leaner over the summer, lost the braces too, and now every girl seemed to have a slight crush on him. It was like he was the new kid all over again.

Stephanie’s house was nice, and way too big for such a crowd. Plus they weren’t even supposed to be there. Everything felt like out of those movies his older sister watched. Steve had abandoned him some time ago, when Lillian Clark had pulled on his hand to go to the back where the 8th grade basketball team was, and Bucky found himself copying a decorative plant.

It’s not like Bucky didn’t like parties, what he didn’t like were the crowds of people he didn’t know and had no idea how to even begin to talk to. There was a reason he was considered a nerd, and so far he liked that. Again his palms felt sweaty. Him being a nerd didn’t exempt him from having crushes and wanting this: maybe a semblance of popularity and a good social life. But his awkward stance, lack of involvement in athletics and chubbier cheeks didn’t exactly make a good combination for ‘king of the prom’. He was okay with that, he had his own interests and talents and skills that didn’t make him shine like a supernova in the hallways of school, but maybe some other places.

His hands were sweaty because he’d been beckoned over to a game of 7 minutes in heaven mixed with spin the bottle, and the whole scenario played like slow motion in his eyes, him taking the tentative steps to join the circle sat on the living room floor, almost directly in front of Y/N Y/L/N, better known as the girl of his 12 year old dreams and fantasies.

Rounds came and went, most of the girls exploding in giggles when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, but Bucky wasn’t paying much attention, all his little boy eyes could focus on was Y/N. Her plaid skirt and cute half up-do, a hint of glitter on her cheeks, laugh bright like the sun. He wiped his palms on his jeans one last time before reaching out and spinning the bottle when his turn came around. He didn’t know what to wish for; for the bottle to land on Y/N or someone else so he’d be spared the embarrassment of having to talk to her or worse: her being his first kiss? She’d probably had tons of kisses by now, and he’d be so inexperienced in comparison!

Whatever, he didn’t get enough time to even decide what to wish for, when the bottle came to a stop right in front of her. Giggles, ooh’s and aah’s erupted, along with surely come sour comment about Y/N having to go to the closet with a nerd, but all Bucky saw was the pep in her walk as she got up and extended her hand for him to take as he got up and followed her to the closet.

He turned the light on, hearing the laughter on the other side that indicated people were right outside, keeping the door closed until the 7 minute mark, no more, no less.

He stuttered, where to even begin? Did he have anything in common with her? Maybe telling her he sat right behind her in both Chemistry and Math would sound too creppy, right? So he did the most rational thing: outstretched his hand for her to shake and introduce himself. “Hi. I-I’m Bucky” her giggle was out of this world cute, and her hand really soft in his. “I know. I’m Y/N” of course she knew. Y/N was nice, nicer than anyone he’d ever met in school – well Steve was nice too, but that was different. Y/N was nice and pretty and smelled good and always gave him a soft smile on her way to her seat in Chemistry and Math –

The silence ate up around 2 minutes of their time in the closet. Two minutes Bucky spent silently stressing over how red his cheeks must be and how he’s so far only introduced himself unnecessarily and complimented her outfit. Her skirt swished along with her as she took in her surroundings, clearly not wanting to continue this awkward encounter, he thought.

And then the silence was broken. By her. With a shocking question “A-are you... Do you want to kiss me?” all Bucky could do was nod stupidly, because of course words would betray him now. He wanted to kiss her, really really badly. Her smile was tender and sweet as she leaned in a little, closing her eyes and softly puckering her lips, awaiting for him to meet her in the middle.

It took him a total of 5 seconds to tell himself it was now or never, and then his blue eyes were closed and he pressed his lips to her incredibly supple ones, the array of butterflies that ate him whole, something he could never explain.

The peck lasted about 10 seconds, and separating from her was so nerve wracking, he doesn’t know how he didn’t begin shaking like an earthquake right then. “I’m sorry” he felt compelled to say “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” Why was he outing himself like this? Setting himself up for mockery and embarrassment? “Me too” she said with a blush to her cheeks he knows he will never forget, as well as the shock of the revelation. He was her first kiss too? No way, he quickly decides she’s just trying to be nice. Right?

She’s his first and second and third and fourth kiss, if you’re counting, as they had 3 minutes left that were spent kissing every way two naive 12 year olds knew how to. Sweet, short pecks, with varying head angles and varying lengths, and a riskier one with mouths half open, initiated by her because she’d seen her older brother kiss his girlfriend like that once.

By the time the door was opened they were just standing there, mute and blushy, and the swarm of giggling teen girls took Y/N away from him like a lightning bolt, Bucky knew that the events of that night would be in his memories forever and ever. His crush on her only growing from that moment on.

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

He’s snapped back from the shock-induced flashback when a body bumps into his in the middle of the frat house kitchen he was currently standing in. His mouth, that had dropped open in surprise at what his eyes were seeing, clamped back shut, the drink in his hand almost slipping and clattering to the floor.

My god, it was Y/N Y/L/N in the flesh. 

Still fucking gorgeous, maybe even more so – impossible! Fucking impossible, yet so possible because it was right there in front of him – His biggest crush, his first kiss, the girl he pined after for years and years and years, even when she had moved towns and obviously switched schools in 8th grade, Bucky had promised himself that he would never love anyone like that – and proceeded to get himself his first girlfriend mid freshman year of high school despite still slightly crushing on the distant memory of Y/N. Steve always joked Y/N could have been his first girlfriend if he’d only had the balls to do something about it, to which Bucky agreed when it was too late –

“Bucky?” she said when she spotted him. “Bucky Barnes?” “Oh, god” He said, both faces splitting into laughter as her arms swung around his shoulders, enveloping him in a hug he returned, swaying back and forth with her. “Y/N it’s been… wow” “So long! You go to MIT too?” “Yeah, you go here!?” “I do! Art and design, sophomore year” she points to herself with the same red cup that is holding her drink. “Civil Engineering major, sophomore year!” each sentence brought in more and more shock. She was there all along? And he’d never seen her? Until a random party at Sam’s – Steve’s new addition to the gang which had always consisted of just him and Bucky – frat house? “What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” And he did. Joining football and gaining some social skills did that to you. Also growing somewhat of a beard and keeping his hair just the right length. The truth was Bucky didn’t have trouble with girls anymore. “You too!” and god did she look amazing. The skirt, plaid like back then and almost out of his deepest dreams, with stockings and boots and a crop top, could she be anymore the girl of his dreams? “Steve is here too?” She looks around, probably remembering that the two are a package deal ever since diapers. “He’s… around, lost him long ago” he chuckles and some girl tugs at her arm from behind. She sends her away with a promise that ‘i’m going i’m going! Chill’ and turns back to him, giving him all her attention in the middle of the loud and crowded kitchen, making his heartbeat race. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” she’s fishing the pocket of her skirt for her phone which prompts him to do the same. Oh god he’s going to have Y/N Y/L/N’s phone number? 12 year old him is  s h a k i n g. “We have to meet and catch up” “Definitely” after contacts are exchanged, she’s pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, leaving him stunned into place, a goofy smile slowly growing on his face

God damn, it’s been 7 years and he’s right back to square one, back to being a twelve year old nerd, at a party, with sweaty palms at the thought that he’s definitely crushing on her once again, if he ever even stopped. 

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! 

how cute is this reencounter?!?!?!? Also, let me know if you want to know her POV of this whole thing because I was thinking that’d be a nice little take for me to write, to see how much seeing Bucky Barnes again affects her.  Hint: a lot, she wasn’t lying, he was her first kiss too. 

[weaver-of-legends]

Steel Angel with Butterfly Wings

Genre: fanfiction, Crimson Peak

Type: one-shot

Rating: none, though suggestive of psychological and emotional abuse, as well as physical. I dunno how to do trigger warnings on writing, whatever, advance at your own risk.

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He walked in, and the light fell on her, and for a moment he didn’t understand. She was an angel, come to save him. Perhaps she could save him, he wanted to believe it. For one beautiful day he wanted to hold on to the idea. Edith was an angel, and she could make him clean. He fancied it and daydreamed fervently until he came back to their hotel suite.

“She’s perfect, Thomas. Far better than we could have imagined; so gullible and desperate.”

It was happening again.

All over again.

He could cry, but he wasn’t twelve anymore. He wanted to cry and cry and cry and scream. But he only nodded and swallowed and closed his eyes when she put her hands up in his hair.

“Yes, perfect.”

He kept his eyes closed as she kissed him and pushed him down on the bed and hummed and sang. Give in and it would be all right. She knew what was best for them; he was good at playing follow the leader; he always had been. She knew what must be done, even if he hated it; even when it made him terrified and sick.

“But must we?” he whispered, barely to be heard over her singing.

She pulled back from him and he dared to open his eyes, horrified his tears would fall.

“What did you say?” She was ferocious in her protection of him, in her love. He hesitated, reached out to pull her back to him in hopes that she would be pacified by another kiss.

“Nothing… nothing,” he replied hoarsely, quickly.

She smiled slowly, put her hand on his chest. Her fingers traced cold circles and he wanted to die, but he breathed instead, faster and less even as he gazed up at her, mesmerized by her eyes; so blue, like his—bluer, he might think.

“You know I love you, brother. So much.” She leaned over him, set a soft kiss to his cheek. He nodded and closed his eyes in a slow blink, pressing his lashes together tightly. “I’m the only one who truly understands you.”

“Yes, I know. I love you, too.”

She kissed him with more fervency, pressed closer. “Say it again.”

“I love you, I love you.” He panted it as if the mantra meant as much as it once had to him, feeling somewhere between dead or dying or hollow or ill. He did not know which word could describe this. Was it love or was it wretched? Were they right or were they wrong, doing what they did? He kept his eyes closed to it all until it was over, and she was lying beside him pressed against his body while she slept, her fingers curled tight in his hair so it hurt, but he didn’t move.

He just breathed, in and out, in the dark, and his breaths came in small shuddering gasps; gentle sobs, but his eyes stayed dry. He was not twelve. Tears were for little children.

His thoughts fell on Edith. Her smile, her golden hair—so different from his own dark curls. Her eyes were not sad like his, or wild like his sister’s. She was so beautiful, so bright. But American strong, he had seen it. Her eyes were steely with determination to be independent.

His heart raced in his chest beneath Lucille’s still hand.

He was not independent; he could not be. No, he needed Lucille to explain to him what to do. He admired Edith, she was brave. She was not weak, like he was. She was not pathetic and childish and desperate for understanding, for the love that she knew so little of. Unlike him.

“You’re wrong about Edith.” He whispered into the night, and he got away with it, though he listened with soundless terror for his sister’s even breathing in the darkness—for her to slap him for being so stupid. So stupid to think that he knew something better than she did. He didn’t, but he… he just felt it. Somehow. He put his hand over his heart in the dark, absently. It beat wildly, and he couldn’t close his eyes because he couldn’t sleep. He whispered her name again, Edith. It was as beautiful as her golden hair and bright smile.

Edith.

Edith, I do not want you to die. But I don’t know what else to do.

I don’t understand. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Lucille knows what is right and I must believe her, because she loves me. She’s the only one who loves me and does not look at me with disgust.

.

A/N: Crimson Peak really annoys me. I despise it adamantly as garbage tier writing. In the beginning Thomas behaves dominantly and manipulatively. I thought that he was going to be very dark, a very demented antagonist; but then in the third act of the film it flipped and suddenly he’s this crying, whiny mess who’s never killed anyone and it just turned into a dumb bitch-fight between two girls over a dead boy. 

That was a blow to his character build-up in the first act. If you’re going to write characters, Del Toro, Be Consistent!

I wrote this because I wanted to experiment with Thomas’ physical abuse and emotional conditioning by Lucille, (if you go with his character’s behavior and development in the third act, this one-shot is more in-character) and the psychological abuse he’s suffered through his sister and the harsh emotional/physical landscape of his home-life. Judging by the third act, Thomas retained a great deal of immature, naif, childlike tendencies. Which is a coping mechanism of abuse victims. So it was very odd to me that (especially given the time-period) this wasn’t more obvious in his behavior with and around his sister. 

Also I wanted to expand on that “I close my eyes to thinks that make me uncomfortable” or whatever it was line from the ballroom/waltz scene. 

[kathrynmaslow]

Love Lies 13/15

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change.

Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that.

A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness.

Rating: M

Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content. 

Chapter Notes: Okay y’all, the reunion that you all have been waiting for is finally here! But things aren’t always what they seem. Thanks to @daveyjacobsthepotterhead for helping beta this monstrosity and helping me write (good) angst for the first time these last couple of chapters. Also huge kudos to @princesse-swan for being an amazing artist. More art from her to come in the following chapters!

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve

Art by @princesse-swan here and here

Chapter 13

Emma burst through the doors of the planetarium, cursing soundly when she didn’t initially see Killian in the room.

This was the most likely place where he would have come to, she was sure of it. Killian had always said it was relaxing and peaceful to be back under the stars, but considering that it didn’t seem like he was here, she was at a bit of a loss as to where he could have gone.

Emma whirled around as the doors opened behind her.

“Emma. Is that you?” Killian asked, walking into the room.

Emma sighed in relief. “Killian, thank god you are okay.” She said, rushing up to him and pulling him into her arms.

Killian’s arms came around her in a crushing hug. “I was so worried about you Swan,” He said, his hand coming up to touch the top of her head. “No one had any idea what happened to you.”

“Riggans happened to me.” She whispered, shivering a bit remembering the cold of the ICE block. Killian gripped her tighter in response.

“That’s what we were all worried about,” He murmured, burying his face into her neck.

“We?” She asked. Her brief conversation with David didn’t give her any idea as to how long Killian had been locked up for either. “How long did they lock you up for?”

“I only got released this morning.” He said, pulling back from her a bit. He held his hand out between them, what she now realized was a suppression glove was different than when she had last seen him. “Apparently that’s how long it takes to outfit me with a new one of these.”

“Where did they put you?” She was concerned that they had locked him in some super max wing like they had done with her.

“I was locked in my dorm, where were you Emma?” He asked, searching her eyes like they held the answer.

“They put me on ICE,” She said.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” He asked. The look in her eyes must have been enough, because he cursed soundly, pulling her back into his arms. “That explains why you are still shivering love. I didn’t think you could get cold,” Killian chuckled a little bit, trying to lighten the mood.

Emma wasn’t in any kind of laughing mood. Far from it actually.

“You saved me.” She said, pulling back from him again.

He looked down at her in confusion. “What?”

“That fight with Gaston, you saved me. I wasn’t doing well. If it hadn’t been for you. I don’t know what would have happened.”

“It was really nothing Swan.” He said, shrugging his shoulders a bit uncomfortably.

“No, it wasn’t nothing. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did.” He said.

“Why?” It was all the questions that she had been scared to ask wrapped up in one. Why save me? Why use your powers like that? Why didn’t you just leave after I had been so horrible to you?

“Because I couldn’t just sit by and let that bastard hurt you. And I couldn’t just sit back and not do anything. I had to help you, however I could. I don’t really know how my powers work, but I knew the one thing that I could do to help so I had to try.” He explained.

“I don’t know what to say.” She said, getting lost in the way he was looking at her.

“You don’t need to say anything Love. Besides. I should be apologizing to you anyways.” Killian pressed a finger to her lips to silence whatever she was about to say. “Yes, I do. So just let me get this out. Okay?”

He waited until she nodded her head silently before removing his finger and taking a step back.

“Look. I didn’t mean what I said to you before Emma, back over break. I was scared, and frustrated. And I took that out on you when you were scared and frustrated too.” He sighed, moving his hand from her elbow where it had been resting to run it through his hair. She belatedly noticed he had gotten it trimmed since the last time they spent any real time together. Too much had happened too fast that day back in the commons for her to have really taken any notice of it anyway. “You don’t own me anything, especially because I have told you virtually nothing about myself. It was horribly rude and selfish of me to demand that you have to tell me about things that you can hardly think about, let alone voice. I’m truly sorry about that Love.”

Emma smiled softly at him, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She was unbelievably touched to say the least. He gave her a small smile in return.

She pressed up on her toes and leaned her face in towards his, hoping he would get the message and meet her halfway.

He did.

Every kiss with Killian felt like the first kiss to her. They were all the same and yet completely different at the same time. Some were flames, burning and rushing under her skin. Some were quiet, and soft, like a sleeping baby. Others, like this one, were tender and warm, like standing in the sun on the middle of a cool fall day.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping his mouth on hers as she dropped down from her toes and planted her feet back on solid ground. He wrapped his arms around her in turn, his hand coming to tangle in her hair while the left arm wrapped securely around her waist.

She pulled back before the kiss became any more intense. She still wanted to talk with him about what she had seen with his brother.

“I missed you, so much.” She said, staring at his sky blue eyes. She didn’t want to think about those long days down on the block, not knowing when, or if she would be released. When her next meal would come. What had happened to her friends.

It had been the hardest to think about Killian. Not knowing if she would ever get to speak with him and begin the process of repairing what had been broken those weeks ago.

He squeezed his arms around her and buried his face back into her hair. She tucked her nose into his neck in return, enjoying the safety of being in his arms.

“Besides,” Emma started, “I wanted to tell you that I understand.”

Killian pulled back from her abruptly, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Understand what?” He asked.

“I understand what it is like to come here under...Not the greatest circumstances.” She said, struggling to find the right words.

“Not the greatest circumstances, what are you talking about Emma.” He asked, even more confused than before.

“Well, after what your brother said…..”

“My Brother?!?” Killian said, sounding alarmed. “When have you ever talked with Liam?”

“Just a bit ago, I went over to find David…” She started, not understanding his reaction to what she was saying.

“How much of that conversation did you hear Emma?” He questioned, gripping the tops of her arms, this wild look coming into his eyes. She pulled back from him a bit, his reaction starting to concern her, for a number of reasons.

“I heard enough, but it was more of what Liam said to me after you left…” She trailed off as Killian pushed away from her and shoved his hand into his hair, groaning in frustration.

“So you know.” He said, looking back at her after a few heart stopping minutes.

“I don’t know everything, but he told me enough to-”

“To what Emma! You know enough about me now to know that I am not the sort of man that you want to be with anymore? Is that it?” He asked, growing more agitated as he lobbed question after question at her.

“What? NO! Killian, I’m not explaining this well. Let me explain.” She pleaded, moving to grab his hand.

He pulled away from her, putting both arms up next to his head in frustration and walking around the room.

When they had both arrived, the room had been dark. Emma’s eyes had adjusted some to make out where he was and the expression on his face when he was close, but she marveled at the way he avoided running into any of the mechanics and other objects in the room.

She supposed for someone whose powers were darkness, that granted him a bit of an advantage.

“Killian-” She started again, trying to salvage what was happening in front of her eyes.

“What do you want me to say Emma? That I’m okay with everything happening to me? Because I am not.”

“I’m not saying-”

“I have never been farther from okay than I am right now. Not everything around here is like those books Emma.” He said, whirling around to look at her.

“What books?” She asked.

“All that Shel Silverstein crap. The world isn’t all butterflies and rainbows.” Killian said it with such viciousness, he might as well have slapped her.

She reared back as if he had, feeling a sharp stabbing pain flare in the middle of her chest.

“Oh don’t look at me like that Emma.” He said, exasperated. “You know what I mean.”

She didn’t. Yeah, life hadn’t been all butterflies and rainbows for her, far from it actually, but she didn’t let that cloud her view point.

Most of the time anyway. She knew she was guilty of letting her past experiences change how she would have reacted to something or how she would have approached a situation, but that didn’t make a difference in how she saw other people.

David had been helping her with that since they had met. Killian helping her more recently, more that he seemed to have realized.

“Yeah, I get it. But that doesn’t mean you have to talk down to me Killian.” She said.

“I’m not talking down to you Emma. I am trying to get you to see the world the way that I have experienced it. I haven’t had it easy Emma.” He said, still yelling at her.

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about that, now would I! Since you don’t tell me anything.” She hurled a point from their last argument back at him.

“No, you just go to my Bloody Brother to learn all of my darkest secrets!”

“Like you don’t go and get all of your information about me from David behind my fucking back.” She yelled back, feeling her flames; which had winked out earlier, come roaring back to life.

“Now don’t you go accusing me of going behind your back Emma.”

“Why shouldn’t I, you just threw the same accusation at me!”

“Because how in the bloody fuck would my brother know that I was here? I haven’t had any form of communication with him since I was deployed on my last mission.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? I was on lock down for the last week and a half, or have you forgotten about that” She said, getting angrier with him by the minute. She couldn’t remember a time she had been so angry.

“By your own fault.” He said, stabbing a finger at her.

Emma could have sworn smoke was coming out of her ears, she was so angry. Her mouth tasted like ash.

Smoke must have been coming out of her ears, because the sprinklers in the room began going off, drenching both her and Killian in a matter of seconds.

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, screaming her frustration.

How had everything gone so wrong?

Dr. Hopper burst through the door not even a minute later.

“Is everything okay up here?” He asked, catching sight of the two of them as he turned the lights on.

“Just fine Doctor. That was all my fault. Sorry for triggering the sprinklers.” She said over the rush of the water.

Dr. Hopper moved to a panel on the wall and flipped two of the switches, turning off the torrent of water.

“Anything you two want to say about this?” He asked, crossing his arms, looking at Killian more than her.

“No.” She said, both pairs of eyes whipping across the room to look at her. “I don’t have anything more to say. It’s pretty clear what just happened. So I am just going to leave if that’s alright.”

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned to leave the room. Feeling hurt and lost at what just happened.

She made it out of the building before Killian caught up with her. She heard his shoes squelching along the sidewalk before she saw him.

With the full intent of ignoring him, she pressed on faster, trying to make it back to her dorm.

“Swan.” He shouted, his watery footsteps getting louder before she felt his hand latch onto her upper arm.

She yanked her arm free before turning on him. “What do you want Killian? Don’t you think you have said enough already?”

Killian looked down at her, his hair dripping down into his eyes, clothes plastered onto his body. He looked downright miserable. Emma had no sympathy for him.

None at all.

After another agonizing minute of waiting for him to do something other than stare down at her, she had had enough.

“If that’s all Killian, I am going to go back to my room now.” She said, not bothering to hide the hurt and anger in her voice. “Don’t follow me. I don’t think I want to talk to you for a while.”

Emma turned her back and made her way across campus. Ignoring the curious looks that the other students were throwing her sopping wet appearance, she made her way into her building and climbed the stairs up to her room.

David was waiting for her when she got to her door, a bottle of rum in his hand.

Tears welled up in her eyes without her permission. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” She said, wiping a wet sleeve under her nose.

“I wasn’t planning on talking about anything.” He said, raising the bottle. “I thought you could use a drink.”

He didn’t say anything further as she opened the door to her room. She held the door open and gestured for him to join her.

After changing into a dry set of clothes, she sank down onto the floor next to David, skipping the offered glass and taking a swig right from the bottle. It burned it’s way down her throat, offering some relief from her feelings.

“Today sucked.” Was all she said, a few silent tears falling down her cheeks.

David just nodded and took the bottle from her, taking a swig of it himself.

Emma leaned her head against his shoulder and finally allowed herself to cry.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Hacked: Part 10

“Nice bathroom,” he says casually, fiddling with his jacket as if you don’t have a gun on him. “Sorry, I think I clogged the toilet, though. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hands in the air,” you snap, refusing to let the man in front of you get the best of you. Though he does put his hands in the air, you feel as if you’ve just lost the upper hand. You push aside your nerves and doubts. You’d decided not to go out looking for this man, but he’d wandered directly into your territory, which was a stupid move. You’re not letting him leave.

“I can’t believe Underoos didn’t recognize you for who you were,” he smirks. “We look nearly identical.”

You expand your mask again so he can’t see the nerves on your face, or just your face in general. You’d just gotten comfortable here, but his presence has jarred you, made it seem like he’d ripped a curtain off of everything and it was just a play instead of real life. “Give me one good reason not to put a bullet in your head right now,” you snarl, but the butterflies in your stomach are doing choreographed dance numbers. When you turn your head, the mask pulls at your hair. It’d pulled your hair up into its own ponytail since it was down, but some strands must be caught between the seams of the metal.

“Why should you need a reason not to?” he asks casually, folding his hands behind his head. It’s technically all right with what you told him to do, but you have a bad feeling about that action.

“Hands where I can see them,” you correct.

He chuckles, “Damn, you’re good,” and complies.

You cock the gun, noticing how he doesn’t even twitch, and gesture to the living room. “One wrong movement and you’ll have steel in the back of your head,” you warn, and he nods. When he does get into the living room, he doesn’t even look at Pom, Dennis, and Juna, who are all guarded, and opts to just stare out the window.

“Juna, get Stick,” you say tersely, not motioning with your gun. This room is more open and you don’t feel as safe in it as yours, even though you’ve got your friends in here with you, all with their own guns trained on the man. The little girl nods and scampers down the stairs to get the older man. You know that when Stick gets up here, he’ll handle this.

“I just need one thing before the boss gets up here,” the man you’re pointing a gun at speaks up.

Pom snarls, “And what could that be?”

“Underoos,” he says smugly.

Dennis screws up his face with confusion. “Underwear?”

The window smashes to pieces and something slams him against the wall, knocking his head against the wall so bad it leaves a smear of red as he slides down it before the person that’d slammed him webs him against the wall. Pom lets out a yell of anger and, by mutual unspoken agreement between you and her, trains her gun on the red and blue blur and starts to fire.

Tony Stark expands his Iron Man suit and the bullets you let loose a second too late ping off and roll on the floor. Without hesitation, you leap for your bag and your trusty older hoverboard leaning against the wall. You realize why sending Juna was a mistake: Stark probably hadn’t wanted a kid to be caught in the crossfire of the fight. You’d had the same idea, but it’d worked out better for him than you. Come on, Stick, come on…

You snap your newer hoverboard out just in time for your father to send missiles at you. They wrap around it tightly. Those had been meant for you, to keep you from struggling. The very thought of being caught up in one of those makes the butterflies do cartwheels. You yell “Shock!” and the electricity must short out the clamps because they clatter to the ground.

Still hiding behind the bulletproof board, you step onto your older one and wait for your feet to be clamped. When they do, you shoot up into the air, chucking a mini-bomb at your father. You aim too high and crash into the ceiling. Once you have enough room between yourself and the ceiling, you take stock of the room. Your father is enveloped in a cloud of smoke, coughing and, you imagine, waving his hands about, and Pom has abandoned her gun in favor of hand-to-hand combat with the Spider. Despite him being enhanced, she’s holding her own—winning, even. She’s vicious, furious about her brother.

You zoom towards them, preparing to crash into Spider-boy as hard as you can, but Pom sees what you’re doing and yells, “He’s mine!”

You veer sharply and crouch down by Dennis’ limp body. He’s pale but breathing, albeit shallowly. If he’d been killed, just after getting engaged, you might have shot Spider-boy, Pom or no Pom. You try to pry the webs off the wall but they’re strong, stronger than you’ve ever seen before. You snap your new board onto your wrist so you can use both hands to try to get Dennis unstuck. Desperately, you shoot at the web, hoping for it to make a difference. The webs just accept the bullet, let it cushion itself inside.

With panic, you realize that the bullet isn’t coming back. You curse and take a brief look over your shoulder—Tony Stark is holding his shoulder but raising his hand to shoot something at Pom. His shoulder probably got burned from the explosion, but you don’t care. You chuck another mini-bomb at him and turn around to see the bullet practically vibrating as it struggles to get out of the webs.

With a heart-stopping wrench, it gets out of the webs and pries the webs off the wall. You grab Dennis quickly and shoot out the door. “Pom!” you scream, looking over your shoulder, and cruise straight into a solid chest.

The two of you both groan and you backpedal with your board quickly, letting your mask contract. “Stick,” you pant, struggling to hold onto Dennis’ limp body. “Stark—he just—and Spider—”

Stick grabs hold of you quickly. You drop Dennis and he hits the floor with a thud. You wince, both from that and from Stick’s harsh grip on your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, sure to leave bruises. “Stick,” you gasp, confused. “What are you—”

An evil sound, metal cocking, cuts you off, and a ring of cold steel presses against your forehead. “Tony Stark!” Stick roars, and everyone freezes except for Pom. She flips Spider-boy over her shoulder and kneels on his chest, one arm pressed against his throat. The bridge of her nose is cut and she’s got one black eye that’s swelling, but it still manages to widen when she looks at you and her father.

Stark slowly raises his arms. “Gates.” His voice is a warning, like he’s got the upper hand instead of Stick. Stick always wins.

“You broke our agreement.”

“You broke it first.”

“Stick,” you whisper, trying to swallow against the arm around your throat. It’s slowly cutting off your air. “I can’t breathe.” He loosens up the slightest bit, and the rush of oxygen to your brain lets you fully comprehend what’s pressed against your forehead. “What are you doing?”

“Y/N,” Tony Stark says calmly. Of course he wouldn’t even be worried about you. You’re just one of his many bastards.

“Get out of here,” you spit. “What, do you come and visit all of your bastards? Better hurry on; you won’t be able to fit twelve other appointments into this afternoon if you wait much longer.”

“Wait,” Spider-boy says suddenly, his voice very young and similar to another voice you can’t quite place. “Y/N—you’re Boardie?”

“I’ve been cruising around on a hoverboard,” you snap. “What the hell do you think? Who the hell are you?”

Spider-boy keeps silent.

“I have a lot to explain,” Stark says slowly. “But I promise you, Y/N, I am not your enemy.”

“Like hell you aren’t!” You struggle against Stick’s arms, trying to get to your father and make him hurt, make him feel one ounce of the pain you’ve been carrying your whole life, but Stick’s not giving. The coldness of the gun is making you shiver. “You abandoned me and my mom—you abandoned all of them! All of us! I spent my whole life knowing my own father didn’t want anything to do with me!”

One of the curtains to the smashed window is smoldering.

“Is that what he told you?” Tony Stark glares at Stick, his gaze filled with so much venom you nearly look away.

“That’s what my mother told me!” you snarl, trying to lunge for him but Stick’s arms hold you back.

Stark sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, she lied.”

You still, staring at him, before shaking your head and sneering at him. “Yeah, right, Stark. Nice try, but I’m not that stupid.”

“No!” Spider-boy protests. “It’s true!”

“Shut up or you’ll get a bullet in your chest,” Pom snarls. “You might just get one anyway, for my brother.”

“I had full custody of you until you were two,” Stark starts, probably about to say a well-rehearsed lie. “We were out in the park when a nearby building exploded. I left you with the drivers, thinking you’d be there when I got back. When I did get back, they all had bullets in their heads and you weren’t there.”

“One more word,” Stick says softly, “and there’s a bullet in her head.”

You suck in a shocked breath. “Stick?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really don’t want to do this, but I have no choice,” he says loftily. “You were a great asset to the team while we had you. Money every month.”

You stare at your father, struggling to put together what, exactly, is happening.

Fact: Stick has a gun at your head

Fact: Stick gave you a home when you were younger

Fact: Your mother doesn’t have any baby pictures of you

Fact: Stick’s saying he used you for, what? Ransom?

Your eyes seek out Pom. She’s staring at the exchange with a slightly open mouth. Your eyes plead with her to do anything, say anything. She stares at you for a long second before mouthing, Mask.

What? You mouth back.

She touches the back of her neck with her hand and Spider-boy bucks her off. She goes sprawling at Tony Stark’s feet. To your surprise, he only looks at her.

“What, you’re not going to hold a gun to her head too?” you taunt, scratching at Stick’s arms with your hands. “Stick—let me go—”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Stark says softly.

“Do it!” Stick hisses. “Make it even! See, Y/N, look at what he’s doing.” The curtain is crackling softly now.

“You’re doing it too!” you snap, moving your hand to the side of your head and trying to pull his arm down. Spider-boy is crouching on the ground, looking between Stick and Stark quickly. You nearly feel bad for him; he’s probably not sure what to do since he takes all his orders from your father. He’s probably scared of him, jumps to do what he wants exactly when he wants it.

“You already knew I was a monster,” Stick says softly. You can feel his chin moving against your hair and you have the sudden urge to gag. You don’t want to be touched anymore. “Sorry, Y/N. You weren’t a good enough soldier. If you were, you’d let me do this.” Pom sucks in a ragged breath at Tony Stark’s feet, her wide eyes flicking between you and her father. Your eyes seek hers out, begging for forgiveness, before moving.

With a strength you didn’t know you had, you press for your mask and swing your legs up, attempting to bash Stick’s head in with your board. It follows easily, and Stick falls back. You hope he’s knocked out, even though you’d be horrified at hurting him. The mask pulls at your hair but you don’t even care. You throw mini-bomb after mini-bomb at him, not even sure what you’re doing anymore—do you idolize him? Do you hate him? Are you trying to kill him? You don’t realize you’re crying until one bomb goes wide. You retract your mask, trying to see if he’s all right.

“Stop!” Spider-boy shouts repeatedly at you. “You’re going to—”

KA-BOOM.

The room is immediately engulfed in flames. You stumble back from the wall of heat, your eyes streaming as you cough repeatedly.

“Dennis!” Pom screams by your side.

Your eyes widen as you realize you’d just sentenced your friend to nearly certain death. You’d just attacked Pom’s dad, and now her brother?

Without thinking about it, you cruise over the flames as fast as you can. The fire is in patches now, spreading towards something—your stomach drops when you realize it’s the cat-carrier. The day was not supposed to end like this. You swoop lower, ignoring the bellows on the other side of the flame-wall, ignoring how your body shrieks in agony, and scoop up the carrier just as soon as the fire reaches where it’d been sitting. Dennis’ body is in the hallway, Stick nowhere to be found, and you have to grab him before the flames spread more.

You hiss when you grab him and try to swoop up. He’s too heavy and your hands are too sweaty—he’s slipping. You hook your arms under his armpits and start to half-fly, half-drag him down the hallway. Your board’s scraping against the ground, and so are his boots, and the fire’s spreading faster than you’re traveling. Crookshanks is yowling repeatedly. You have no choice but to unlock the carrier and let him sprint out of the building. One less thing to carry.

“Come on!” you scream through gritted teeth, digging your heels into the board as much as you can. The fire’s nearly at you both now, and then the board detaches. You sob, then, as the white-hot floorboards start to melt your bathing suit. Your skin is on fire, it’s flaming, it hurts so bad even though the fire isn’t even touching you yet. You have to make a choice, and it shouldn’t even be a struggle, between Dennis and your board, only the board is the only thing you have from New York, as your room is surely ashes by now. You can’t carry both things at once.

Then you remember your new board is on your wrist. It may not be your old board, but it’s a board. Saying a silent ‘sorry’ to the board, you scramble to your feet, dragging Dennis down the stairs as fast as you can. You can hardly breathe through the smoke in the air, and the floor burns through the one flip-flop you still have on.

“Oh my God,” you pant, suddenly terribly aware of one fact: “I’m going to die.”

Dennis groans in response and you keep going on, despite the fact that your head’s going all fuzzy from lack of air. You’re on the second floor now, gulping for air desperately.

“What the fuck!” Dennis suddenly screams.

“Fire!” you yell back. “Can you walk?”

He nods, though he’s still pale, and you follow after his sprint slowly, stumbling and coughing. When his form is swallowed by the thick smoke, you fall to your knees, ignoring the way your skin is waxing from the heat, and roll onto your back. You got Dennis out. Pom still has her family.

The floorboards are shaking now, probably from burning objects falling onto them, and you close your eyes. You can’t breathe fully.

Then someone is manhandling you, picking you up like a rag doll. You try to force your eyes open, but they stay half-lidded. It makes no difference; the smoke is too thick to see anything. Then inspiration strikes you. You tap the button on your neck.

Instantly you take deep breaths of clean air, letting your brain receive oxygen, before letting whoever’s carrying you put you on your feet. You stumble with them, ignoring the nerve endings in your feet screaming in agony.

“One more floor,” the person says repeatedly to you. You’re probably imagining things, but it almost sounds like Peter is the one saying those things to you. “Don’t worry; your dad’s going to be able to help you.”

After a half-century of stumbling, your senses are overwhelmed with screams and bright light. You sag against whoever saved you, letting them half-drag you away from the building, wondering idly why they’re clutching your hand. Someone wraps you up in a cloth and puts you on a stretcher. The person’s hand is ripped out of yours and you try to protest but you can’t form the words.

Then something is placed over your mouth and you can breathe fully again. Your eyes fly open and there are five figures sitting around you. Someone cautiously takes your hand and you try to squeeze.

“Dennis,” you croak.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he says calmly. “I’m fine, and so are you.”

“Crook—” you start coughing and can’t stop.

The smallest figure sets the small cat on your stretcher. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says. You moan when the cat sits on top of you.

“Take that off her,” the largest figure orders.

“Stark?” you slur, looking at him. “Pom?”

The people you’d called for nod. You turn your head, ignoring an EMT who warns you not to, to look at the person who’s holding your hand. Spider-boy is sitting there with his mask off, curls askew and face smudged with soot.

“Peter?” you gasp. “You’re—”

You pass out.

[waitingrose]

Honest Questions: Revisit the List!

“Oh! Miss Rose! Before you go, could I take a moment with you? Since you were unable to be here for the other questions, I am sure the readers would be curious how you might answer.” “Of course, I don’t mind at all. Fire away.”

Oh good! Thank you for your time. Uhm…ahem. Let me just put these back in order. Ah-hah! What is your full name?

“Velestine Olivia Rose.” What do your friends call you?

“Vel, mostly. Or Doc, when working with my patients. I consider them friends when we spend so much time together.” What is your favorite animal? “I would say I am fond of butterflies. I work with flowers and herbs, you see. They add a little joy to the day.”

Where were you born? “In the Shroud. I suppose that is what feeds into my want to remain here. Among other things.”

Do you have children? “No, but I hope to someday. I would like to have a big family of at least four, if I can manage that. Maybe more.”

Is there a person/people you love? “I have a big heart when it comes to people and love many that I meet. There was one special one for a time, but he has since passed on. I keep his memory close to me.” What is your favorite color? “Hmm, I couldn’t choose just one. Blues and whites are primarily what I am drawn to. But flowers come in many colors and I enjoy the blends they create.”

What is your full occupation? *giggles* “Good thing we are sitting down. I have quite a few. Doctor, Alchemist, Trauma Surgeon, Botanist, Midwife, and the occasional cook. If I had a business card, you would need both sides. As you can tell, I keep myself busy. Though, to be fair, three of those are combined when dealing with the field.”

Are you good at physical fighting? “I am not a fan of it. Conversation can go further than a fist and most of the tensions between people are just large misunderstandings. I have had to hold people down for the more painful moments but if it came to swinging fists, I would lose.”

We can skip this next one then…

What about magic? “That, I can answer much easier. I am a healer with my aether, but I have learned a few spells along the way. I suppose it falls under more physical fighting, but I do have a sword. It closely resembles a rapier but is very light. I combine them.”

Which type are you best at? “Healing arts, to be sure. But I much prefer an all-natural approach. The world gives of itself in many ways and it is a shame more people do not appreciate it more.”

Craftsmanship? “You may never find me without some vials, my book, or some kind of tea blend on my person. The day you do, I will be dead.” *soft laughter*

Any other skills? “I can bake very well. My cooking is less than ideal but I can whip up all sorts of baked goods. It’s a science, really. Cooking is an artform.”

Are you an only child? “I am. It feeds into my want for a large family. I have never known it and would like to start one that could span generations.”

Where do you see yourself in five years? “Hopefully opening my own holistic shop. I would love to sell soaps, lotions, remedies, teas, you name it. If I am lucky enough to settle down by then. Or, I may very well be in some tent on the fields of battle closing wounds. My life is spontaneous and rapid.”

Have you ever almost died? “Once. There was an explosive lodged into a patient and I was the bravest out of my comrades to attempt to remove it. Everything went well until another explosion went off and, from what I was told, made it fall. I don’t remember much but I am grateful to have been so close to other healers.”

Do you have a secret, not just a secret, but like a really big secret hardly anyone knows? “Well of course but I am not going to say, now am I? That would defeat the point.”

Salty or sweet? “Both, depending on the food. I am a sucker for a pretzel, let me tell you. But then I could bake fresh cranberry and orange bread right after. Also depends on who I am with, but I will selfishly exploit my own wants in some form while appeasing them.”

Do you like yourself? “I am more comfortable with myself than before, to be honest. But we all have things we would like to change. It is what makes us unique, in the end.”

Do you believe in the Twelve? “I do. I have seen enough moments in my life to believe they are working.”

Are you religious? “I often speak to Nophica while tending to my gardens or when I walk the shroud. But I wouldn’t consider myself deep into the religion.

Do you carry prejudice with you? “You can’t when you are a doctor. Even if by some chance you are displeased with the actions of others, you must look passed it.”

What do you consider entertainment? “I enjoy plays, cards, sitting around a fire with a good drink. After a stressful day it is nice to unwind with laughter and a bit of a burn.”

Favorite drink? “I have mentioned my blends a lot so far. I am eagerly jumping questions.” *Gentle laughter* “Besides those, I have a fondness for a stiff scotch or whisky on a cold night. Ishgard was brutal with it’s snow and even more so when you hardly sleep. Need a little more comfort than a low campfire to make it through.”

Do you have any family traditions? “I do not but I hope to make some one day. Aside from the usual holidays, of course.”

Are you a good person? “We all have skeletons in our closet or a shadow at our backs. It’s how we treat others that makes the difference. I believe in kindness and compassion above all else.”

What would you say is your spirit animal? Not a favorite animal, but a spirit animal. “A lark. I have mentioned this often, actually. In fact, the seal on my bottles is a bird and I enjoy singing to people.”

Everyone has a favorite food, but that’s not always what you go for when you are upset. Do you have a comfort food? “Mm, stews. Feeling full always helps to ease the mind a little. It is also the least bothersome to cook when you are busy.”

Some people drink to chase away bad memories. Others fight or find someone to sleep with. What’s your go to when you just don’t want to think about what just happened? “I delve hard into my work and create something beautiful out of another. Creation breeds joy.”

What do you defend yourself with on instinct? Are you the type to rush forward with a fist? Do you always have a knife close at hand? If someone attacked us right now, what would you use?

“Lightning stuns someone long enough to take control of the situation. It can also numb a limb if used properly. I am not strong with it but you don’t need much to break someone’s focus. If we are considering an enemy that will not stop? I will use my sword. But I would rather not unless it was the last choice.” What’s your favorite pastime when alone and when you are with others? “Alone? I dance around my lab and sing. With others? Well, I enjoy good conversations and meals. Some funny stories and perhaps an activity outside like playing ball or …funny enough, hide and seek”

 Dream vacation spot and/or activity? “Anywhere in nature. Anywhere. I could be just as happy laying in a field as anyone would on a beach. If I can find new plant life? Even better.”

 On that note, how do you prefer to travel or get around this huge world we live in? “Teleportation is the quickest and it can be fun. Again, not something I am too good with, but I manage. Otherwise, I will take an airship or my chocobo.”

Do you have an element you most connect with? The world is filled with earth, and wind, and fire. The elementals are a huge focus in the Shroud. But what about with you? “Earth. Definitely earth. I love the feel of dirt beneath my nails and quite a few have remarked on the stains at my hem. My shoes are often covered with where I have been. But I am also fond of walking barefoot a lot of places. Makes me feel connected.”

What is your favorite smell? I know, kind of a strange question, but it comes up more than you’d think.

 “Mint. It is clean and refreshing. I also enjoy that smell at the first break of dawn. When the dew is resting amongst the lands and everything is alive. It wakes me up.”

How do you smell? *She laughs* “I can’t even imagine the poor soul that comes near. Poor Miqo’te that must deal with me. I imagine it’s a wild mix of flowers and something I baked. Perhaps my salves or lotions. Heavens only know.”

Who is your best friend? “I have had a few in my time but they have passed as well. War takes its toll.”

If you had to settle down, what career would you pick? “I would open the shop I mentioned before. Absolutely. And would enjoy being a Mother as that is the most important career anyone could have. Nurturing the mind of the future.”

How do you want to die? “Saving the life of another. Without question.”

 If you only had a day left to live and can only do one thing before you die, what would it be and why? “Hand my work over to another and then take a long walk barefoot.”

What do you imagine the future to be like? “Beautiful and exciting. I enjoy the idea that you can not see what is coming. There are patterns if one pays close enough attention but why spoil it? Make the choices and follow that path.” Well, thank you so much for sitting through that long list and…well, answering every one of them so openly! You won’t believe how many I ask and it’s just a line or two. “Well, some may not be so open to reveling themselves. I like to share.” *She laughs again.” Thank you for your time, Miss Rose. I hope we see you with any future questions.

“Would be my pleasure. Thank you.”

[blueinkeddoodle]

Efrain Harris: Mountain Hike

When they say the simplest hello can change life, I never pegged the hello he first threw at me twelve years ago can actually change my life.

Efrain Harris tailed behind his mother as both of them knocked on the door of my new house. His mother and mine have been friends long before fathers came into the picture. So, when she made her way as the first person in the neighborhood to come knocking on our door with blueberry pie in hand two days before the semester began was never a question. He said his hello once and before we knew forever or such term existed, we were the best of friends, impossibly separated.

Efrain became the guy whom I spent my entire childhood with, followed suit into teenage era and now as we barely passed the broken twenty; he still is the guy I spend my early adulthood with. He is the guy whom I spent lots and many more lots of first to come. For example, first mountain hike we ever did.

"You, idiot!" I snapped at his walking figure in urgent.

How can I not when it was two in the morning as we hiked Mount Ijen in complete darkness, bones freezing from the harsh cold temperature and he just had the nerve to fucking leave me alone? Because I was as slow as snail he said. Slow, my ass. "How many times do I have to remind you that not every single one of us have the all-access to the gym for their cardio rep every single morning?"

The sound of his laughter booming through the open space, each burning seconds getting louder. It seemed like he managed to get back where I stopped. The blinding light of the small torch he held spotlighted on me. "See? This is the exact reason why you can never skip your cardio session, love. Trust me when I bombarded your phone at the crack of dawn. It's only for the best of you." He said in very serious tone, but eyes betraying from the glint of mischief.

"Just don't with the pet name." I snarled, snatching the water bottle he was holding.

Just before I got the chance to sit my ass down, both his strong arms pulled me up. How on earth did he do that so easily? Wasn't he the slightest tired? "You'll get dirt on your pants. Besides, it'll take more time to reset as we start again. The trail will get worse but your body will need longer time to manage as much distance as we had just did." I exhaled quite tiredly. He may be an asshole most of the times, but trust him when he threw an advice.

"You really need to tell me if it's getting too hard, or if the burn on your limbs are too much to take. You hear me?" He said after a few seconds passed but I still needed a couple more minutes to even out my breath. I nodded, handing his water back as I got ready to start another walk. "You're... good to go?" He asked, one brow raised in pure curiosity.

"Yeah, let's just get this shit done." A small smirk appeared as I answered him so, a very smirk that announced his pride in me, the kind that said that's my girl. His hand held mine, fingers linking to each other, filling each empty space as if was the spaces made only for him.

A brotherly smile happened next. Something that shouldn't have felt this electrifying, like the burn after fireworks exploding on the bottom of your stomach, causing million of butterflies to create chaotic pitter patter from the clapping of its wings. Efrain is just my lifetime best friend, right? This shouldn't feel like it.

But then again, neither should a simple touch on the palm of my hand cause a havoc in my mind, like the question do you love me he threw carelessly at movie night after he stole your favorite Ben and Jerry's. The answer should be yes, I do in all the glory of best friends who had stuck all their lives together, nothing more.

The hiking trail never got any easier. If the first half was hell, the second half was even worse of hell and demon itself. The harder it got, the louder my whine got. But the fact that he did not complain even for the slightest bit actually warmed my heart.

The first ten minutes, swear to God I thought it had been thirty minutes, went by without my crack of voice. The trail was the hardest at this point. And even the sound of my panting breath was too much to take, let alone the burn I felt on my thighs. "Now that you got too quiet, you're still breathing right?" He cracked a joke.

It was supposed to be a joke, at least I thought it was. But the concern lacing on his eyes said otherwise. His right hand flew to my face fast, cupping my cheek only to see the color almost drained completely. "I'm fine. It's hard to even out my breathing while walking and talking at the same time." I said, shrugging his hand off just as the side of my face warmed up in crimson. It was just warmth from the tip of his hands, right?

He chuckled, "It will be just another round of that hairpin section and we'll get there." He encouraged me, a beautiful megawatt smile shone on the contrary of dark three-in-the-morning sky behind him.

It took us about another half an hour until we reached the place we desired. "I hope this blue fucking fire thing is worth it. I'm not doing two hours worth of walking just to inhale this much amount of sulfur." His laughter rang throughout the crowded crater.

"And here we welcome back the goddess of speech." He remarked, eyes crinkling to crescent from laughing. The same melodic laughter that caught my breath on my throat, heart stopped for millisecond before drumming out far too fast as if it was to burst out of my chest. I swore to God he would've heard that. "Come on, let's get a picture of you. Give me your best smile." He pulled the hand he was holding earlier so that I was standing in front of him a few feet away, where he thought the blue fire would be seen behind me in the photograph. He finally let my hand go for the first time that early morning. "There goes my favorite smile." He commented under his breath, hushed tone, I thought I wasn't supposed to hear that. As I heard multiple shutter sound, my smile got brighter at the thought of what I assumed to be mishearing.

The hour slowly passed by as we took some more pictures of us two. Crack of dawn opened up to not-seen sun rays from down where we were. But the sky went two tone lighter as the greyish mist and green crater made our landscape. It was indeed a beautiful background.

I was munching on my favorite bar of cookies and cream topped chocolate when suddenly he turned all serious in front of me. "I know this is bad timing. You probably still ran out of breath and you must hate me for ruining that favorite winter coat of yours," he said, motioning to the dark grey jacket I was wearing.

"Efrain, in case your hardly-used brain can't load the information I had so many times told you about, but the term people use for this piece of clothing is jacket. It's not winter coat." I deadpanned. "But you're right, I totally despise you for ruining my jacket. This now smells like shit." I cringed my nose in disgust.

"Fine, but you still need to hear me out. You're probably gonna hate me but, be mine?"

"What?"

He groaned out from frustration. This was the first time I had seen someone who confessed his feelings to the girl he loved, yet managed to not looking nervous. God, didn’t I deserve something sweeter? “See this why I hate you so much. You see, we’ve been with each other since we can remember and even if forever is too long to reach out, I’d rather have my own forever to spend with you. And I didn’t just say this because we’ve been friends for so long. But I did it because every time I look into your eyes, I see my future. There has never been a time I imagined my future and you weren’t a part of it.

"You’ve been with me from the time I had my best girlfriend to the worst one. And even the best one still can’t outshine the worst times I had with you. So help me out of this misery and just be mine already.”

I think it hasn’t hit me hardly that time when he confessed. For I didn’t feel the drumming of my heart ricocheting as if it was about to jump out of my chest. I didn’t feel the excitement or fireworks exploding around me. I just felt… warm.

It was the exact feeling when you soak into the bathtub of warm water and the smell of your favorite bathing oil had evaporated after a rough day. Or the feeling when you open your favorite coffee shop and your cup of ginger ale has been waiting. It was like coming to your childhood house on thanksgiving and smelling the turkey roast three houses away. It was like walking into a house and suddenly you’re home.

An unknown smile widened on my face, wide enough to reach from one ear to another. “You know it’s always been a yes, right?”

He pumped his fist in the air. Just as his soft, pink full lips landed on my forehead, there was another set of camera shutter sound. His smile was radiant, like always. The same one that I always see yet never failed to make the thumping on my heart goes crazy. “How’s that thing work?”

“Remotely controlled by my phone. I clicked that.”

Both eyebrows furrowed, even forehead contorted in confusion. “How?”

He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, love?” He asked in disbelief. “By infrared connection, of course. Did you really just ask that question? God, the girl who cracked his own Spotify account. I thought you’d be more tech savvy than that.”

“Shut up. You love me anyway.”

Another radiant, megawatt smile graced his lips. “Technically, I always do love you but right at this moment I just really hate to admit that.”

I would actually not believe if someone had told me the simplest hello can change a life, but right now, I just do. As innocent and as no harm can do as fourth-grader Efrain Harris said hello, I would never thought that he would also be the one to come to love.

Because the truth is, I never know when love really comes to me and I think no one does. For some, they claimed love knocks on their door early in the morning of terrible morning breath and bedhead but I don’t carefully listen to the sound of door knocks. Hell, I don’t even wake up in the morning if someone had been knocking. Because for me, love comes bringing its own key in the hue hour of midnight saying, “Love, you’re home?” As he made his way into my apartment.

I still had yet to decide if love feels like the fluttering of million butterflies on the lower part of my stomach when he smiles or the exploding fireworks as we kissed or the burning sensation that left as our hands touched. Because another time he smiles, I just feel warm or that time when he kissed me that didn’t leave me speechless just a tad bit tingling sensation for another kiss or the other time he held mine and just the itchy greed to never let it go.

But one thing I always knew, I am just glad that it turned out to be him in the end. I always know I love him, in the common sense of two people who spent their lives basically together, but I never knew it would escalated to love like this. But now that it is him, I think I just love how this turns out, for he has seen the worst of me and still manages to believe that the sun shines from my eyes, for these hands he holds and never once he has a doubt to never let them go.

Ending Note (Efrain Harris: Way Back Down)

If you thought the way up to the top of the mountain was hard, well the way back down wasn't any easier. It was around seven when we came down and as I marveled at the scenery around me (a beautiful one at that), I repeatedly asked myself 'would I have done this if it wasn't for the utter darkness around me'. Because seriously, I think I would've given up for I had seen the trail.

His hands casually wrapped around my shoulders that I had to cross my arms in front of my chest so that we still hands in hands. "When did you realize that you like me?" I asked.

"Seriously, like you? Love, I think the word like was an understatement. I never really realized when, because to be honest, I always have loved you and I do. I always knew it'd be you one way or another. Each breakup just put me in perspective that those girls will never be you. I kept comparing them with you, you're the standard. I just kinda realized that I cannot with someone else that's not you."

"Ah, so those series of drop dead gorgeous girls were just distraction? Or the wiser way to say were just transitions media?"

"If you said they're drop dead gorgeous, then how do you define yourself? Because I don't use the word perfect to define the creations of God."

"Stop being so cheesy, you idiot. It's impressive how you manage to only hear the part I described your exes instead of the question I was asking." I complained, to which just another megawatt smile of him was an answer. "So, you just kinda work up your courage from there? To confess? To ask me?"

"Courage? I never had to work the courage for that. I knew you'd take me. You look at me in a very different light than you looked at your exes. I knew you were in love with them, but then I always knew you love me way better."

"God, you're the cockiest guy I've ever found in my life, you know?"

"I know. And you're my favorite girl, the girl of my dream, you know that right?"

I scoffed. "You're so cheesy."

"But you love me." And dear God, yes, I do.

[ellanainthetardis]

Prompt : what if effie had a tattoo somewhere? haymitch has seen it plenty of times but never realized it was about/for him.

Here it is! [X]

The Tattoo Mystery

Sleep was evading him.

His body was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t turn off. He kept mentally reviewing the attack plans for Four over and over again. They had been working on it for forty-eight hours now and it consummated Haymitch’s every thought. It beat thinking about anything else anyway.

Peeta and his high-jacked memories…

The demons he couldn’t quite ignore without a bottle…

“You are thinking far too loud.” Effie complained, burrowing a little against his chest, probably seeking his warmth.

She had developed a habit of using him as a portative heater system. She stole his clothes, borrowed his woolen sweatshirt in the middle of the day and never handed it back, only sighed in contentment at night once he was draped over her like an additional blanket…

Although to be fair, they were naked and sweaty.

And the blankets were scratchy – as she hadn’t failed to grumble about.

“It’s to compensate for you thinking so little.” he shot back a beat too late, running his fingers from her shoulder down her arm.

They were on their sides with his back to the edge of the mattress and the emptiness separating them from the floor while her knees were brushing against the wall. Why those bunk beds had to be so small, he couldn’t figure out.  And it wasn’t even because they didn’t have a family compartment. He had seen the beds in the Everdeens’ room and they weren’t any bigger.

He would have enjoyed some freedom of movement. He liked sleeping on his stomach better. Or on his back. His side wasn’t really a favorite position of his. Spooning Effie had its perks but he liked it better when she snuggled against him instead.

There was no really getting comfortable in those beds.

“I do not know how I can still marvel at your insensitivity.” she huffed. “What a thing to say to a woman whose bed you are sharing…”

“You dragged me to your bed, remember?” he snorted. “Come have dinner, Haymitch. Look at me sucking on that coffee spoon full of yoghurt, Haymitch. Walk me back to my room, Haymitch… Real subtle, you were.”

He could almost hear her roll her eyes.  “I am fairly sure I did not make any remark about the yoghurt. In fact, if I had made a remark, it is more likely I would have told you about how vile that thing they call yoghurt is.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I know your spoon number by now.” he mocked. She had perfected it over chocolate cake. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t turn into a sexy display when she wanted to.

“Fine.” she sighed. “I might have tricked you into actually getting into bed with me. It certainly wasn’t to think.”

“Pretty sure you made that clear.” he chuckled. The yoghurt show had given him  a good preview of what she had had in store and he hadn’t been disappointed. Then again, he never was.

She refused to be distracted though. “How long had it been since you slept?”

“Too long.” he admitted. He nuzzled her nape because it was right there. “Can’t shut off my brain.”

“I did a very good job of shutting off your brain.” she retorted. “You had to go and make it work again. You can be so annoying sometimes.”

Her tone was entirely teasing and he smirked, pressing an open mouth kiss against her neck, letting his tongue poke at her skin. She tasted a little salty and he kind of wanted more. His hand ended up on her belly, his thumb running distracted circles…

“Cause you’re a walk in the park, yeah?” he taunted right back.

“I am indeed, thank you.” she grinned. His hand drifted south and easily found her leg… “I do not have any trouble shutting off my brain…”

“You don’t say.” he chuckled, wedging his hand between her thighs.  

“You are nowhere near ready for a second round and I am tired, Haymitch.” she stated more plainly.

“By the time I get you through round two, I’d be up for round three.” he tried even though nothing was less certain. Since he had stopped drinking… They had given him meds that he regularly forgot to take because the side effects were actually worse than the shakes and the headaches. Like the fact he didn’t seem to be able to get it up for very long and not exactly at the firmness he was used to. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get hard again that night.

Still, if he wasn’t going to sleep…

“As tempting as the offer is…” she insisted, squeezing her thighs together so his hand was momentarily trapped before giving him back his freedom by shifting a little. It gaven him better access but he could take a hint and be a grown man about it.

“Fine…” he surrendered. He didn’t move his hand away though. He drew silly patterns on her skin, just because he was bored and he liked touching her, until he felt the familiar rougher patch under his fingertips. He smirked against her skin again as he retraced the shape of the tattooed butterfly on her inner thigh from memory alone. Perspectives made it look as if the blue butterfly was about to take flight from the flower it was on. He wasn’t a fan of tattoos or physical alterations but this one he had long reconciled with. She had had it for as long as he could remember, a secret next to her most private parts. “You never told me how you ended up with a butterfly next to your…”

“Language.” she muttered before he could finish. “Try to sleep. It is late and, no doubt, that thing around your wrist will beep and summon you back to Command any minute now.”

“Come on.” he whined without shame. “There must be a story there… How old were you when you got it?”

He had known her pretty young. She had been twenty-two when she had started as his escort although she had been twenty-five by the time they had started sleeping together and twenty-seven by the time they had bothered to properly remove clothes. After that… Well… After that he had become really familiar with that butterfly.

“Sixteen.” she sighed. “Tattoos were all the rage. My friends all wanted one, I went with them and once there… Let’s just say peer pressure is a terrible thing.”

He couldn’t see Effie Trinket being coerced into anything she didn’t want. Sixteen or not.

“Why a butterfly?” he asked.

It suited her though. Butterflies… They were good animals for her. Beautiful, delicate and yet a symbol of rebirth… Of hope. Of death – but that one he didn’t want to linger on.

She shifted awkwardly. “We should really sleep.”

His fingers danced on her skin, teasing.

“Got a boyfriend who was into butterflies?” he taunted with blatant amusement. “Thought you were going to keep him forever and it would be really romantic to have a symbol of undying love on your skin?”

She let out an annoyed sigh. “Something like that.”

She sounded a bit brisk and he couldn’t help his chuckles. “Good thing you didn’t get his name down there. Awkward for other guys.” She remained resolutely silent. He bumped her with his hips. “You have to tell now, Princess. Who was the guy? Some jerk, yeah?”

“He is certainly a jerk.” she snapped.

“Is?” he repeated, something dangerous now stirring in his chest. “You still see him around?” He tightened his hold on her and it didn’t escape her notice. Of course, it didn’t. She knew better than to call him out on his show of jealousy but she still grinned with satisfaction. Haymitch really wasn’t satisfied. “He’s that important to you?”

“Oh, I think at this point we can safely ascertain he is the love of my life.” she answer casually, as if they were still discussing Thirteen’s yoghurt. “I was twelve when I fell in love with him, thirteen when I swore I was done with him and sixteen when I fell in love again… Then, of course, I properly met him at twenty-two and decided I wanted nothing to do with him anymore because he can be so irritatingly rude… I was twenty-five when we slept together for the first time and I had to wait to be thirty-five for him to merely hint at having some semblance of feelings for me that weren’t linked to his penis. So, you see, it has been a long and eventful story.”

Haymitch wasn’t dense.

He could take a hint.

“I’m confused.” he frowned.

“Isn’t that role reversal refreshing?” she mused, moving his hand from her leg to her waist and forcing him to hold her tight. “Sleep now.”

He curled up a little around her, hooking his leg over hers when she folded the other one between her chest and the wall to roll a little more on her stomach. He ended up propped against her back but he didn’t mind. There was actually more space for him that way.

“But I don’t get it.” he protested against her nape. “So you had a crush on me when you were a kid…” That was more or less public knowledge. “What has that got to do with your tattoo?”

“It is embarrassing.” she grumbled. “Won’t you drop it?”

“No chance in hell.” he scoffed. “You know you’re gonna tell me or I’m gonna find out anyway…”

She sighed. “If you make fun of me, I am kicking you out of bed. Let this be very clear.”

“Fine.” he accepted without thinking twice about it. Her chances of succeeding in kicking him out of bed were equal to him dropping that line of enquiries.

Again, she let out a sigh. The reluctance was obvious in her voice. “When I was sixteen I met you in a club once. I tried to seduce you and you were not at all receptive. You were drunk, I believe.”

That would have made him twenty-one. He tried to remember but… “Got no memories of this…”

And why would he? Capitols had been flinging themselves at his head since his victory. He wouldn’t have made the difference between her and another one. Faces blurred, all the more so with the make-up altering their features so much. And Effie… Chances were he would have dismissed her outright as soon as he would have realized how young she actually was. He had been despicable, still was to some extent, but not to the point of taking advantage of younger girls. That had been the Capitol’s ploy, not his.

“I did not expect you to.” she confirmed. “Nevertheless… You were not… You were quite charming actually. Some idiot was bothering me, dancing too close, not taking no for an answer… You told him to leave me alone. It was quite the dashing rescue.”

He frowned, trying harder to recall… “You’re sure it was me?”

“You were with some other victors.” she said and although she was careful not to mention anyone by name, he supposed she meant Chaff. And, given the timeframe, probably Alina and Seeder. Maybe Beetee if they had managed to drag him to a club… Thinking about his friends… It made his heart clench. He hadn’t had time to properly grieve for them yet. He hadn’t had time to… Effie squeezed his hand. “You would not dance with me. Or have anything to do with me really. You called me a baby. I was quite vexed.”

“I bet.” he snorted. He didn’t have much on her in years. Five years was a nice difference in his opinion. Now. At twenty-one, five years younger would have been unthinkable.

“You were not mean about it though. You were more amused, I think.” she hummed. “To me, it was all very lovely and romantic… You said… Well… You said I made you think of a butterfly with my blue dress.”

He was sure she was blushing.

For his part, he contemplated that and snorted. “Yeah, I was probably wasted.”

“It meant the world to me.” she admitted, not sounding very proud of herself for it. “Anyway, when my friends dragged me to the tattoo parlor and time came to choose a design…” She shrugged. “I almost had it removed a few times when I decided you were more trouble than you were worth but I never could go through with it in the end. I like it. And I like the memory.”

It was almost beyond his understanding how she could treasure a random night he couldn’t even remember that much.

But…

“So the tattoo on your inner thigh is meant for me.” he smirked.

“That is all you would take out of this.” she sighed as if he was being insufferable.

“It’s on your inner thigh.” he snorted. “It’s so close to your…”

“I fancied myself in love with you.” she snapped. “And my mother would murder me if she knew about this. Obviously it is alright to have your breasts remove but get a tattoo?” She shook her head. “Where else did you want me to put it?”

“Ain’t complaining.” he denied. “Like it just fine where it is.” He tightened his hold on her waist a  little. “I like that it’s mine.”  

She hesitated for a second before breathing out. “Everything I have is yours. Haven’t you understood that yet?”

It was saying something without saying it.

Haymitch wasn’t sure he was ready for that Pandora box to open. He liked how things were right then. Easy despite the hell they were in. Being with her was a breath of fresh air in that place. They were less careful about hiding it, true, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for everyone to know either.

As for actually discussing his feelings… What was the point when they were so obvious? He had put her on his list, had made it very clear to everyone of importance in Thirteen she was under his protection and that he would get very, very difficult if anything happened to her…

“Maybe I should get a tattoo of my own.” he mocked. “Could get a clown painted on my ass… Oh… What about a parrot, sweetheart?”

“Horrid man.” she huffed but he suspected she knew he was only trying to lighten the mood. “I should have my name tattooed on your forehead. Perhaps that would keep those women away from you.” He rolled his eyes at that, more amused than annoyed by her repeated claims that some of the female refugees were very interested in him. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t even care to see it. She was the only woman he tended to notice. “Can we sleep now?”

“Yeah.” he surrendered at last. At least he could let her sleep while he tried to stop thinking about Four and the rebellion. Not that he was thinking about that now. No. Thanks to her, he was thinking about what she meant to him and why it had taken so long for him to admit it to himself and where they would go – could go – from there. It was at least fifteen minutes before he came to a conclusion on that front. “Sweetheart?” A sleepy hum was all he got in answer. “You don’t need to brand me with your name, you know? I’m kind of yours anyway…”

He was pretty sure she was asleep.

Mostly asleep.

He pretended he didn’t hear the three words she mumbled in her pillow.

Those words were too scary still.

[floggingink]

Riverdale: “Chapter Twelve: Anatomy of a Murder”

this is the penultimate episode of Riverdale, I can’t believe this is happening, I’m frothing at the mouth

Veronica was rich: “We’re not talking about the Vogue closet here, B.” the sheer fabulous gall of Veronica is—is exhilarating. “It’s not the Met ball.” this is the trailer of the man she just BURGLED

Archie > Dawson: the same goes for Archie’s newfound, forthright belief in truth, justice, and the American way: “My dad will know what to do.” isn’t Archie on Jughead’s side the greatest thing you’ve ever seen? isn’t this BETTER than inexplicably outing him as the son of a trans-Canadian mobster? isn’t this BETTER than letting the Mongol hordes swarm into his house in the middle of Jughead’s birthday party? isn’t this the BEST THING EVER?

the Andrews have some truly calm nature scene reproductions hanging on their walls

Please protect Betty: Betty, who does not know where Jughead is, is close, CLOSE to strangling Alice: “MOM, no, we JUST told you.” “MOM. YOU were the one ASKED Veronica to break IN.”

Certified pedigree: the dynamics among the four parents: “ALICE.”

Archie looks quite nice, in his own dopey soft bro way, with his dress shirt untucked under his blazer, and his Converses

Fred’s comment how “FP may have ruined Jughead’s life” puts into words something awful

our girl Betty wears ankle-cut sky blue Polo Ralph Lauren socks to bed. to, you know, go with her boxers

the female gaze: Archie is so stressed that he’s put a shirt on

I love the dumb thing people on TV do when they text and then use that person’s name in the message, or sign off with their name, as if the receiver doesn’t know who they themselves are or don’t have their friend in their contacts and would be getting such a text anonymously: I’m sure there’s something like “Meet me at 8 - Blair” a thousand times on Gossip Girl, you know

God, that show was terrible

HOWEVER, Betty very sweetly capitalizes “Arch” but not “jughead,” which is extremely realistic and she’s nervous right now so “Arch” is for emphasis, okay

his friends going behind his back, his father arrested for murder, and the family trailer torn to pieces, Drama Prince Jughead Jones goes straight to THE BUS STATION to get a TRAIN TICKET to go to OHIO

then has a moment of Type-B forethought and calls ahead

his slow, delayed delivery of “I...got a bus ticket...to Toledo” betrays his TERROR at committing to this weirdness and being potentially rejected

he’s rejected

by his mother

can’t sleep in the bus terminal!!! REJECTED

Veronica’s shimmery silky blue pajama set

“Pack a bag, just in case”: what would Veronica put in an emergency overnight bag? character study prompt

Gay?!:  Archie has YET ANOTHER brainwave and leads them to the bus station, and I don’t care how long the delay is until he learns he was right, he just missed Jughead by a half-hour, HE WAS RIGHT. Archie is basically Jughead’s Sam Spade

I like the run-around of missing and finding Jughead, which serves no purpose other than passing time tensely and demonstrating that Archie can think of things and Veronica can think of things

the implied conversation Betty and Archie had wherein they live next to each other and can run somewhere quickly together and that there was “no time” to wait for Veronica to get over there

Jughead eats: Jughead, in his sorrows, ordered a very hot cup of coffee

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: and plopped his hat on the tabletop, out of exhaustion

his ANGUISHED WHISPER, “What are you talking about?” Jughead, honestly, this child, JUGHEAD

BRILLIANCE having FP lie about stealing the murder files to cement his innocence. obviously he couldn’t have murdered Jason because he’s been arrested for murdering Jason and this would betray television. but Keller’s like, “You broke into my house?” and FP is like...someone broke into this shit’s house and I have to fucking say yes to this? Did I fucking kidnap the fucking Lindbergh baby too? What the fuck?

Veronica put her Homecoming jacket back on? round of applause for Veronica

Jughead STARING at his father being LED AWAY in HANDCUFFS having CONFESSED TO MURDER YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS

the WOOOOOM. WOOOOOM. soundtrack is very Dust Brothers’ Fight Club

the Blossom breakfast spread is NICE. waffles, lots of mixed berries, raspberry mimosas or something, like, waffles, WAFFLES!!!

Cheryl is either wearing a massive choker or else her sweater itself has metallic studs on the high neck, with a spider pin ON TOP OF THEM, like an insane Elizabethan lady

Polly’s aborted “He killed Jason? Not…” is like—WAY too dangerous! Jesus, Polly!

Penelope’s black blouse with the red poppy print is the most normal mom-thing she’s ever worn

Clifford Blossom was ALLOWED to sit with FP in the interrogation room? I have never seen THAT on Law & Order

Archie at lunch that day is in a tight, bright blue Henley like Steve Rogers wears under his Captain America suit in The Avengers

Archie is also eating some sort of vanilla pudding in a cup

SECRET HOLDING HANDS!!!!!!

Jughead walking into the cafeteria is the stuff of legends, but there’s a girl sitting at one of the tables as he walks past, and she’s in a denim romper with a lavender pastel turtleneck and a curly bob and a pink smokey eye and she must be SEEN to be believed

Cheryl’s sheaths: Cheryl is wearing a red high-waisted miniskirt, cropped black sweater, off-black hose, red velvet leg warmers, shiny red pumps

remember how Cheryl ruined his birthday party like last week and now he’s coming up to her to apologize for something he didn’t do?

CLASSIC!!!!! CLASSIC!!!! WALLOPING on the chest of a boy who only tangentially did the Bad Thing as he stands there and takes it out of STOIC GUILT

you think Cheryl “knows” FP didn’t do it and decides to pity-guilt-love-hate slap the shit out of Jughead anyway? I have a lot of feelings about Cheryl and Jughead that I didn’t know I had, especially in the wake of RAS’s “two sides of the same coin” tweet. the operatic tragedies of their lives are so parallel, or at least perpendicular, that honestly they’re going to be intertwined, as emotional empathetic humans, for the rest of their Riverdale lives. Jughead’s tragedy sleeps on the floor and Cheryl’s is luxurious terror and ABSOLUTELY SILENT dinner parties with honey-glazed hams, but really if you rebrand Jughead from the “son of a local gang leader” to an “heir to a Mafia family,” you almost create a Cheryl. look, he wears a hat, she wears a lot of red. they’re both odd. they’re obsessed not with murder, but with Jason’s murder. they’re obsessed with themselves. they crave spectacle, drama, gossip, and they trust no one, and they know they are alone, because they’ve isolated themselves and no one quite speaks their language. and they’re fixated on the Cooper girls. CHERYL AND JUG

it all comes to a sadomasochistic head, anyway, luridly, really greatly, with Cheryl beating the hell out of Jughead’s chest, as the Drama Ho just stands there and clearly plans on standing there until Cheryl stops

Archie HAULS her off of him like Moose HAULED Jughead off of Reggie

“He was apologizing! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

Cheryl’s a psychopath: “I barely touched him,” says Cheryl, as Jughead’s mouth bleeds

it took twelve episodes for Jughead to call someone “a dick”

honestly my favorite Jughead moment of the night is the way he stops walking and rubs the inside corner of his eye, out of fucks to give, a little repeating Jughead tic, perfectly timed

just as Jughead told Betty she was the only thing holding her family together, right now frankly Betty is holding the Joneses together too

What damn high school in America: the Bee certainly knew to call Mr. Andrews specifically to talk to about Jughead

“Well, can we call? The school board?” PRECIOUS ARCHIE. there’s always someone else he can try and talk to. always another recourse. it might be dumb as fuck but he is out there trying

“Good thing mom’s a lawyer!” Archie’s Step Two is his father adopting Jughead Jones. I am throttling wild animals for Archie rn

Archie’s voice cracks at “Jug.” after Jughead says he’s sleeping in the garage

Jughead is sleeping in the GARAGE. when was the last time he slept in a real bed? literally years?

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: Alice is clearly thrilled at possibly getting to shoot someone

I want it on the record that I said “He WAS a Blossom” right BEFORE Hal said it and thus should receive screenwriting royalties from the CW

Betty has to tell everyone she’s a Blossom by blood now. she has to go to Archie and tell him she’s related to Cheryl. she has to tell Jughead. over the next couple of days, I’m going to try and imagine Jughead’s reaction

These students are legally children: remember the pilot of Riverdale? where Betty’s biggest problem was that her mom didn’t want her to be a cheerleader? look now, children. poisoned milkshakes. Jughead Jones in a white tank top. Catholic pregnancy asylums. football drug mules. psychologically astute references to Romeo and Juliet. the concept of a “Dark Betty.” a symbolic pearl necklace, of familial blackmail. murder, over maple syrup. and incest: so much incest that we thought it was going to be one kind of incest, but it turned out that that incest was just a red herring and the actual incest was this other incest

Thornhill has some incredible glass windows inside the foyer. like some Tiffany Deco shit. am I making this up? yes. it’s nice glass~

Best costume bit: Polly’s pajamas are black with a white bow print, because Polly

bit rich of any hypothetical Riverdale character to cite their family as the “mentally stable” family

Alice has a butterfly pin on her trench coat that she just keeps there, or else she tosses it on en route, Hal driving furiously

“Nothing could be more purely Blossom than those babies.” OOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD SHE SAID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Polly is HORRIFIED, she is no longer carrying “her boyfriend’s babies,” she is now carrying “intra-Blossom spawn”

Cliff trots out the third cousins/“Jane Austen people did this all the time” defense, “Tutankhamun’s mother was also his aunt,” “This is why Alexei had hemophilia”

actually I think Polly and Jason (and Cheryl, and Betty) are second cousins, if they share the same great-grandparents. the number of G’s is the number of cousins

the look on Penelope’s face when she grabbed Betty and tried her last “You’ve made a mistake” move and Betty DOESN’T look taken aback in the least

Jughead at Pop’s after he got some sleep has turned the corner from utter despair to channeling his pain into quips, all is back to normal: “Don’t forget that pesky confession.”

his morbid, defensive flippancy grosses Archie out, as it did in the second episode

Jughead reading the list of his father’s sins aloud, starting to cry

the pervasive blues and greys inside the cell

FP still dressed in his T-shirt and flannel, lounging on his cot like some possibility, some paralyzing tarot card of Jughead’s future

Fifth period is AP English: clearly what cuts deepest for Jug was his father only reading his writing to see what he thought about the murder, TENDER CHILD

FP yells at him! this propels Jughead across the floor! FP stands to join him at the bars! dynamic emoting, blocking!

“I’m sorry I got caught. We done?” is FP’s version of the thing, I don’t even know where it’s from, like a little boy trying to get his dog that he loves to run away from him: “Go! Go on! Get out of here! GET OUT OF HERE YOU STUPID DOG I LOVE.”

the miniscule instant between his father telling him never to come back and him saying “Got it,” Jughead is figuring some SHIT OUT! this boy should be bathed in overcast blue Pacific Northwest lighting all the time, because it makes his astrological beauty marks stand out and his lips look violet like he’s drowned and Jughead should always look a little post-mortem, like a little consumptive, a little ill. The Ring had really good cinematography, okay

the frankly Ingmar Bergman shot of FP bearing down on Jughead with the prison bar perfectly bisecting his face

Kevin coming through at Joaquin’s interrogation! already better at this than his dad!

Jason LITERALLY wore that all-white outfit for his “running through the woods tf out of here” errand, Jesus, the Blossoms

Kevin, choking back tears: “You. Are a criminal.” yeah, you knew this, Kev

Jughead doubts it: THANK YOU, JUGHEAD IS FINALLY TALKING TO BETTY AGAIN FOR REAL, THANK GOD, HOLY GOD LET’S ALL GET BACK TOGETHER HERE GUYS

good JESUS Mustang’s corpse covered in like infected needle marks and shit???? but we can’t say “abortion” in this time slot???

unexpected touching moment of Archie starting to cry in his dad’s truck, overwhelmed by the awfulness of seeing a dead body, a local motel

honestly it’s about time Hermione Lodge dramatically collapsed into tears

Sixth Period is Intro to Film: OH YOU KNOW JOAQUIN’S ON A BUS TO SAN JUNIPERO

Gay.: nice kiss too boys!!!!!! Joaquin is getting out of town before FP has him killed from prison

Cheryl’s pins: the brooch clasped at Penelope’s throat over her deep purple blouse is old school

Cheryl’s hair: the perfect coil of red hair over her left shoulder is BACK

something about Cheryl calling them “mommy” and “daddy” and “Jay-Jay” is like so self-aware-ed-ly infantilizing and treading-on-glass and pretending there’s like a status quo to the hierarchy of their family and it’s how careful Cheryl has to be navigating her house and how she like adores her Blossomity yet fears the Blossoms, YOU KNOW? CHERYL? GOD?

Penelope is going to dissociate at this fireplace until she is forced out of it

uuummmmnnnnn honestly when Penelope purred “So many questions, Cheryl,” I thought Cheryl was officially going to be killed

I missed you, Murder Board

Penelope hauling Cheryl out in the squelchy mud to the big red barn, speaking of The Ring

“The police found another dead body.” “Okay, maybe not that.”

okay, so FP told Joaquin to leave for his own safety from...other people. turns out FP is kind of decent

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: there are officially tears of overstimulating in Jughead’s eyes as their flashlight beams all highlight “Jason”

Jughead has moved on to the “acceptance” stage of processing his father’s guilt, which in turn cements Betty’s doubt into refusal

“Betty, this is weird.” no, this is PERFECT

Veronica is confused but game, Jughead looks politely interested

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica, chiming in: “Or my Mont Blanc.”

the Blossom corpse: Sad Breakfast Club were some nervous children watching the snuff tape, but I’m willing to be they were not as nervous AS ME WATCHING THEM WATCH THE SNUFF TAPE, SPEAKING OF THE RING

I also like the in-character blocking of the way they sat and took it in: Veronica leans forward, Archie and Betty are very still, Jughead has his hands steepled in front of his mouth, Betty’s eyes water

Veronica, again the Queen of Bedside Empathy, finally bursts her dam and starts to cry, Archie puts his hand on Jughead’s shoulder in soft bro comfort

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: BETTY TELLS CHERYL THE PHONE CALLS ARE COMING FROM INSIDE HER HOUSE

I WAS ONE TENSE BITCH WHILE CHERYL WALKED DOWN HER STAIRCASE

Riverdale absolutely delivered with the extreme close-up of Cheryl’s Realizing Eyes, like the extreme close-up of Betty’s Realizing Eyes at Homecoming, her spidery black mascara and pink smokey eye, the single tear

Cheryl FOR REAL descends this staircase like the most tragic betrayed princess, like a Tudor queen, walking to her death, of all time, ever, if only Jughead could see this

Mother and Father are apparently eating salad and rolls without her

there are truly no words to totally encompass the magnanimous drama, the scope, the lurid horrifying beauty, the undiluted essence of Riverdale, Riverdale in one cosmic blip, one instant of true art grasped from the void that is Cheryl standing at her mother’s side and saying “You did a bad thing, daddy.”

more surprising to me than the fact that Clifford did it is the fact that Penelope didn’t know

LOL turns out FP was being a great father all along! but he was doing it in the most FP way possible!!!!! by going to prison LOLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

was Clifford Blossom going to SHOOT JUGHEAD IN THE FACE? aiight, you’d have to find him first, dude

“My dad was protecting me from a monster.”

WHAT IS JUGHEAD SAYING TO SHERIFF KELLER, TELL ME

Mary Andrews picks up her bag and walks out into the mist like the priest at the end of The Exorcist

the TOTEMIC MASTERPIECE of Penelope and Cheryl, mother and daughter, at their staggered heights, pointing simultaneously towards the fucking barn

“Damn good coffee”: Clifford committed suicide old school, like Penelope’s brooch, he didn’t shoot himself in the mouth, okay, he hanged himself on a barrel full of syrup & drugs. RIP the OG Riverdale gangster

NEXT WEEK: Archie punches the snow!!!!!!!!!