#anyways! sorry that its been (checks notes) almost 2 weeks since i posted?

[dailytunes6]

13.1.24 song of the day

free bird by lynyrd skynyrd

[she-daemon]

Office worker AU - Nero x Fem Reader - Chapter 2

Previous chapter here

Summary:

Nero answers the phone, they go on a date, yeah End of this chapter gets spicy

Notes:

Okay okay so I haven't written anything in months (sorry for not posting in like 3 months) but I'm finally back!!! Since its been a while my writing should hopefully be a little better, or at least the smut should be (I have done a lot of uhh *research* lately)

Slight nsfw at the end!! You have been warned!!

After briefly listening to the dial tone, you heard someone pick up.

"Office of Nero Sparda, state your business please..." Its a woman's voice. You're disappointed it wasn't Nero, but its normal for someone like him to have a secretary.

"Hello, this is Y/N of _____ corporation, I was hoping to schedule a progress report meeting with Mr. Sparda ... possibly tomorrow?" Good, you said everything correctly.

"Just a moment please..." You heard her receiver brush against something, and you assumed she was checking Nero's schedule. Hmm. Nero's secretary. Jealous thoughts started to intrude into your mind. You waved them away, but the thought of being his secretary instead of her persisted. Imagine being so close to him ... being in his company all day ... all the things the two of you could get away with. Your thoughts were interrupted by her:

"Sorry, but it seems Mr. Sparda will be busy all day tomorrow. In fact, he doesn't have any available time slots for the rest of the - " Something interrupted her, and she got off the phone again. Was he busy for the rest of the month? Week? You listened closely. Suddenly, you heard a man's voice in the background:

"Who is it?" You heard her say your name, and then shuffling on the other end. Someone spoke.

"Hello? Is this Y/N?" It was Nero. Just hearing his voice talking to you made your heart leap.

"Yes, its me. Your secretary said you'd be busy, so I was wondering when we could arrange a meeting to discuss the progress report?" You knew it was far too early for Nero's team to have made any real progress on the project. Hopefully, he'd get the message.

"Well, I am busy the entire day tomorrow. But maybe I could take overtime and meet you for dinner. How's that sound?"

"Wonderful. I'll see you at Dorsia's." you gleefully replied, "Do you think you could manage 6?"

"Hmm, maybe 7?"

"Oh, okay, sure. I'm free the whole evening to be honest. The whole weekend, even." You cringed a little from how desperate you sounded, but you swore you could hear Nero's lips curl into a smile at those words.

"Guess I'll have to take a look at my plans and maybe take you up on that offer." Thank god he took that with a stride. And after a brief silence, he said:

"See ya then." And hung up. You processed that call, thinking over your brief interaction with him. If you weren't feeling all these stupid, fluffy emotions, you would've been worried about flirting over the work phone, and eavesdroppers. But Nero had you dumbly smitten with him and you were just paranoid anyway - right?.

It was still around midday, so you couldn't get off work just yet. Your mind drifted back to the secretary fantasy. You knew it was impossible to be his secretary because you were busy working for your father. And that was just temporary, until you took over the company anyway. And Nero's company was just an affiliate, you couldn't be transferred even if you wanted to. But still, damn if that wasn't a hot fantasy.

*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ The next day around 7 *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

Wearing your nicest (and possibly most alluring) clothes, you entered the familiar high end restaurant. You've been here before for past meetings, but this day was special. 

Looking around, you're almost afraid you won't find Nero. But there he is, dressed in a nicer suit than the one he wears for work, a dark shade of navy, almost black, and a matching light greyish-blue tie. You meet eyes with him and he waves to you, signaling you to join him at a booth.

"Hey, glad to see you here, I just got off work." Nero looks so happy to see you, it fills your heart with joy. You make sure to greet him and let him know you feel the same. You talk about the "progress" of the project for about a solid five minutes until the waiter showed up to take your orders. For yourself, you decided to play it safe and order a Caesar salad with a medium rare steak. Simple, yes, but hopefully still dignified. You didn't have to worry about that for long, because Nero ordered pasta - plain spaghetti and meatballs - and you nearly choked on your water. As if it would save face, the both of you decided to share a bottle of wine, courtesy of Nero (but you were definitely going to pursue Nero for his food choices later).

The two of you were illuminated by the warm yellow lighting of the restaurant. You took a sip of your wine and leaned in toward Nero.

"So, Nero, I saw  you have the same last name as the CEO of your company - Vergil Sparda. Are the two of you related? His nephew maybe?" Nero gave you a questioning look, before responding.

"Ah, you caught me. Vergil's my dad." He surveyed your face for a reaction, and he saw your eyes widen as you connected the dots. The two of you were in the same position, your lives were essentially the same. Trying to build your own career in the shadow of your parents, shunned for who your family was. "Oh, that makes sense. Guess we're in the same spot then. Small world." You could barely contain your excitement, you had so much to talk to him about.

"Haha, as much as I hate it, nepotism really does rule the world." You wanted to know more about Nero - so you asked:

"So how has that affected you or your life? Or... what do you think of it?"

And the two of you fell into a deep conversation about your lives, your pasts, and relating to each other. You really did have a lot in common with Nero. His father had also brought him up to take over the company some day, he also hated his business classes for being too easy (he had graduated a year earlier), and most importantly, the both of you had felt the same loneliness and isolation as a result of being next in line. But now it was clear you had each other, whatever that might imply.

Finally, the waiter returned with the long awaited food. As promised, he handed you a beautifully plated salad beside a tender steak, with various garnishes and sides, and for Nero, a heap of saucy spaghetti and meatballs. They actually made it for him! It still shook you. As a businessman of his level, you never would have expected Nero to order simple pasta and meatballs. Sure, this is an Italian restaurant so it's a valid choice, but still. Not only that, but as he was eating, Nero got sauce all over his mouth, his chin, even a little on his cheeks. Honestly, it was the most adorable things you've ever seen. Besides puppies. But he was kind of a puppy too. Hearing you giggle, Nero stops just as he was scooping another round of pasta and looks up at you.

"What?" he asked cluelessly. 

You didn't say anything, just looked at him, smirking, amused. But he really had no idea.

"C'mon, seriously." Now he was grinning too. It was infectious.

"... you have pasta sauce all over your face." And for a moment he froze, genuinely surprised.  Laughing, you reached for a napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth, like a little kid. It was too much for your heart.  Doing this you froze, with your eyes locked on Nero's, noticing how much you had leaned toward him, how close you were. Nero's cheeks burned a little red, and he averted your gaze. You quickly moved your hand away and blurted out: "Oh! S-sorry about that, I don't know why I did that. It just seemed natural."

"No, no its fine, that one's on me." But there was still an uncomfortable, bashful, silence. "Is there a story behind the spaghetti and meatballs?" You interjected, cutting the silence short. It was almost like you flipped a switch, because Nero's face lit up enthusiastically and he began to explain how it was his favorite food, how he'd been eating it since childhood, how Kyrie used to cook it for him... Wait, Kyrie? *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ A few hours later *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

The two of you decided to head to a bar, after the restaurant nearly kicked you out for sitting there so long.

Nero was a bit of a lightweight, you had noticed, and you could see he definitely had his share of alcohol for the night. So did you.  "I think we've both had enough for tonight. " "Mmmyeah." Nero slurred. Unlike you, it seemed like he had a nice buzz going. Lucky him, because you only felt woozy. The two of you hailed a taxi, and it quickly became clear that you were going to end up escorting Nero to his home. The two of you entered the taxi cab, and as Nero barely managed to tell his address to the driver, you worried that this whole thing was too forward, but it was too late to turn back. That, and Nero was glued to you.

"Aww, you were gone for so long~" Nero crooned into your neck, half tipsy, half asleep. "I missed you~..." The warm breath tickled your neck, and you had to suppress a little squeak from escaping your lips when you felt his mouth just barely graze your skin. That was new, and it was nice.

You kept looking at his chest, his tie coming more and more undone with every drunken sway of his, seemingly shifting with the movements of the car. It was so ... distracting. The looseness of his suit exposed his chest, and when you tried to straighten his collar, Nero pulled you in for a hug. Nero gets clingy under the influence - noted. And it was getting to you. You could feel Nero's warm, shapely body, and the sleek fabric that outfitted and outlined it in the most delicious way. Not to mention you hadn't been hugged in years. Damn if it didn't feel good - almost too good, a blush spread to your face and you couldn't think of anything to say. Not that you needed to, since Nero occupied himself with saying strings of gibberish that faintly sounded like praise. You could only pick up words like "nice" and "warm" in his purring, until you felt Nero's weight shift onto you. He had fallen asleep. He left you there, frying your brain for the rest of the ride until the cab pulled up to a large apartment complex. You woke Nero up, much to his dissatisfaction, and paid the driver. You led Nero out of the car and into the complex, sternly holding him by the arm to support him. After a few steps though, he was flush against you, and it was almost like he was enjoying this - not that you secretly were too. Maybe his whole "tipsy" thing was just an act.

Walking him to the elevator, it seemed like Nero had sobered up a little from the fresh air, recognizing his surroundings and selecting his floor once the two of you were inside the elevator. 

 "You doing all right there Nero?"  "Hmmm...?" He blinked sleepily, not as buzzed as before - just tired.

He unlocked the door with his key, given a few clumsy tries as he worked his way through the wooziness. You stifled a giggle, and Nero murmured as he opened the door:  "What's so funnyyyy...?"  "You're such a lightweight, Nero." Hearing this, Nero scrunched up his face and swiftly turned away his head, pouting.   "No I'm not."  "Admit it, you were almost wasted after two glasses." You smirked, satisfied from drawing such a reaction from him. You wanted to poke at him a little more, but push far enough and you might find boundaries.   "I. Am not. A lightweight." He huffed, eyebrows furrowed, and it seemed like he was a little hurt. Did you hit a nerve? Okay, despite how cute he was, now you felt bad. You walked up to him, and cupped his pouty face with your hands.  "Okay, okay. You're not a lightweight Nero." You tilted his face so his eyes would meet yours, and you squished his cheeks a little.  "Better?" Just as you were about to pull away, Nero grabbed you by your shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss you on the lips. Shocked at first, you received the kiss, pulling on his lower lip and biting gently. You wondered if you should be doing this at all, but Nero let out a sigh and continued to kiss you - and it felt so good, so right. Nero pulled you close, and you felt your body grow heated, bothered from his hand gripping tightly at your waist. Eventually though, you both pulled away for air. Nero smugly showed you a shit eating grin, his lips a slight pink - thoroughly kissed.   "Now that's better."   "Oh yeah?" You tilted your head. "Are you gonna forgive me for being a bully?" You leaned your face toward him, gazing into his eyes. With a dark look in your eyes, you continued: "And there's really nothing else I have do to make you feel better?" You could see calculations running in Nero's head, and he suddenly picked you up in a princess carry. He took you into the bedroom and the next thing you knew he had put you down on a soft bed. You were sad you weren't in his arms anymore, but only for a moment because he leaned down to kiss you again, one hand sifting through your hair, the other squeezing your hip.  "I think you already know-" He said as he brought his knee to the apex of your thighs, suggestively brushing it, " -what you have to do to make me forgive you." His eyes looked back up toward your face for a reaction, and you noticed his erection pressing against your inner thigh.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

There it is! I'll try to get the next chapter done as soon as I can, and the promised smut will be in it ➳➳➳➳ I only managed to proofread once or twice at 1 am so sorry about grammar and inconsistent spacing, yeah

View this chapter on ao3

[komfortkiri]

HELP WANTED (PART 2)

WOLF QUIRK F!READER x HANTA SERO x EIJIRO KIRISHIMA WORD COUNT: 2,997 TW/CW: ABSENT PARENT MENTION (I know some people get really bothered about absent parents)

NOTES: No banner yet. And yes, I posted two parts in one day BECAUSE I’M LIVING FOR THIS. The next part I’ll include things from Kiri and Sero’s POV. I got tired toward the end of this one and wanted to finish and post it before going to sleep.

Your alarm went off at 6:45 AM, allowing you more time to actually get ready and look like a decent human being.. well, sort of. You laid there for a moment, though, thinking that if this really went well, you could be leaving within the next week. You’d have to tell your father and though he’d be hurt, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t come back to visit. With a deep breath, you threw your legs off the side of the bed, holding your arms over your head to stretch. The stretch was so good that you almost fell back into your mattress and went back to sleep but you shook your head and rose to your feet, proceeding to your bathroom to shower.

After you took your shower from Hell, you walked out of your bathroom and back into your room, making your way to your closet to browse over the clothes you had. You realized quickly that you should probably do some upgrading to your wardrobe but you’ll worry about that another day. Your eyes scanned over everything and nothing really stood out to you so you pulled out your phone to check the weather, seeing that it was pretty cold out— roughly 23 degrees. Coffee definitely sounded luxurious right now and that thought alone made you check the time to see that it was now 7:15 AM. You took a little longer in the shower but the scorching water felt like Heaven to you.

You sighed, taking a long-sleeved, burgundy turtleneck half-shirt off of a hanger along with a pair of black high-waisted jeans. You tossed both articles of clothing onto the bed then went to your small dresser in the corner of your room to open the top drawer, pulling out a white colored bra and a matching pair of panties to go with it. You closed that drawer then opened the second drawer, getting some black socks that rose to just under your knee. Once you had everything, you dropped your towel then threw your undergarments on, along with your socks.

During your dressing, you received a text message from the Kiri person so you rushed over to it, hoping they weren’t cancelling the get together. Relief washed over you whenever you read the message.

FROM KIRI: Morning! Wanted to send you a text to tell you that me and my roommate are getting ready and should be at the coffee shop closer to 8:30 AM. We still on?

You replied rather quickly, it was almost creepy.. like you were waiting for a text.

TO KIRI: Good morning! Yes, of course! I’m getting ready right now as well.. I may be there earlier than you both since it’s right around the corner from me!

Once the message delivered, you threw your phone back onto your bed then put on your shirt and pants, which had a special made hole just for your tail, then walked over to your full body mirror hanging on the wall. “Not bad.. Not bad at all.” It was almost like you were hoping these were men that you were meeting. You scoffed at your thought, nah. You walked back to the bathroom to grab your hair brush, one for the hair on your head and another for the fur on your tail. It was weird in a way.. you had to color coordinate what you used for your tail because the fur wasn’t as soft as your actual hair was. Once you finished grooming yourself, you put on a pair of flat-bottom, over-the-knee, black boots. 

Time, what was the— shit! Your damned tail, taking so much time to brush through. It was now 8:05 so you had to rush a little bit if you wanted to be extra early and order what you needed so you grabbed your black trench coat off your coat rack, grabbed your phone then your backpack that held your wallet and other necessities that you may need throughout the day and booked it out of your room and out of your front door. Your dad must have had to work this morning, considering his car wasn’t out front but nonetheless, you expected as much from a police officer.

NO TIME TO THINK, you thought so you turned in the direction of the coffee shop and started walking. Your walking turned into walking fast then into.. running, which doesn’t affect you much considering it’s part of who you are. You thankfully had a bottle of perfume with you, just in case you smelt like a wet dog and you sprayed a few pumps amongst your coat and a few on your neck. You took a minute to catch your breath right outside Camille’s front door then walked in.

“My, my.. Look who it is! If it isn’t my dear Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, must be pulling extra shifts at the animal shelter, huh?” Camille practically rushed to you, bringing you into a hug. All you could do was smile and accept her embrace then return it. If you were being honest, you really needed the hug. “Hi, Camille! I’m sorry I haven’t been visiting like I normally do. I have picked up a few more shifts so I can save up for a place of my own.” You took a seat at your usual spot, right up close to where she made most things. There was a small little bar, in which, Camille practically saved your seat every morning when you started coming in. She was like a mom to you, which was nice in its own way considering yours wasn’t worth a shit. 

Camille knew just about everything about your life so you felt awful knowing that you hadn’t been around in a few weeks but you had to do what you need to first. “You know, darling, whenever you stopped coming in, these two very handsome boys started coming in every morning. It was almost fate in a way. They kept me company while you were gone, but don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my favorite girl is back.” Boys? Was this elderly woman really trying to hint at hooking you up right now? All you could do was shake your head and laugh as she set your usual in front of you— hot hazelnut coffee, extra sweet. You lifted the glass mug to your lips, speaking from behind it, “Boys, huh? Camille, are you trying to set me up?” A smirk formed along your face as you took a sip of the coffee, humming softly in satisfaction, your ears falling back some. She always did make the best coffee, it never failed.

The older woman laughed then leaned back onto the counter opposite from the one you were at, “Now, you know I wouldn’t meddle into your love life, dear. All I’m saying is, they are complete gentleman.” She leaned forward on her elbow, whispering her next statement. “If I was year and years younger, I’d probably take both of them.” This made you snort then double over in laughter, “Camille! Shame on you!” All she did was shrug then before she could respond, her eyes lit up when she realized who was entering her shop. You noticed this look and raised an eyebrow, sipping your coffee. Camille realized your eyes were on her and she nodded toward the door, mouthing that’s them. You tried your best not to make it obvious but you turned your head just enough to the side to peer over your shoulder and boy, she was not kidding. However, these were definitely not boys.. they were pure men. 

You quickly turned your head before they realized you were ogling them, your insides heating up. All you could think of was how the good Lord above took his sweet time crafting both of them. Your heightened sense of hearing allowed you to listen in on what was being said between both of the guys and Camille so you just barely turned your left ear to the side, lifting your coffee again to take another sip.

“My boys! Where have you been? Fighting crime as usual?” Camille greeted both with a big hug each before one of them answered her. “Yes ma’am, you know us. We have to make sure nothing happens to your wonderful coffee shop.” Your heart skipped a beat at that statement. Smooth. “Always such sweethearts, come. I want you to meet another regular of mine.” Please don’t, please don’t, plea— “Y/N?” Your face was probably as red as a beet at this point but you turn anyway with a smile that was semi-forced. You hadn’t much prepared well on talking to… very, very attractive men. “Boys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Eijiro and Hanta.” You shook each of their hands, your insides felt like they were being lit on fire at this point.

The man known as Kirishima smiled, “You can call me either Ei, Eiji or Kiri, though.” The fire was immediately put out by his statement. You were thanking all the Gods that you didn’t have your coffee in your hand because you would have dropped it. “D-Did you say Kiri?” You cleared your throat, scratching the back of your head nervously. 

“Yeah, do you know me? I mean, I’m a pro-hero but do you know someone I know or—“ You cut him off, not meaning to, but you had to get it out. “No, I.. I inquired about the roommate ad you had put up. We texted this morning and last night?” Kirishima and Sero’s eyes widened and they looked at each other. Something tells you they really weren’t expecting the person they were meeting to be a woman, but you were in the same boat because you didn’t expect for the two people you were meeting to be two gorgeous piece of asses either.

Sero spoke this time as he looked back at you, “So you are looking to be our roommate?” You blushed a soft shade of pink, not really knowing how to properly answer that but you did anyway. “Well, I-I didn’t really plan on you guys being, well… guys.” Both men laughed then Kirishima sat next to you, Sero sitting next to him on the other side. Camille put their coffees in front of him, Sero’s was partnered with a bagel. She gave you a wink then rushed back to the kitchen, peering out the little window in the door. All you could do was shake your head with a grin. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you definitely don’t have to move in with us but we’d like to be your friend.” 

You smiled at that but thought of the trouble you’d get yourself in just by being their friend. It was almost impossible not to yank both by their collars to the bathroom and— “Wolf quirk, eh?” Sero’s voice shook you out of your inappropriate thoughts. It’s almost like he knew where your head was spiraling to. “Y-Yeah. My dad is also part wolf as well.” You nodded, clearing your throat even though you really didn’t need to as there was nothing to clear. 

“What about your mom?” Sero pressed, not knowing that talking about your mother was something you hated doing. You sighed quietly, eyes darting in front of you to a blank space on the white wall in front of you. Your ear fell back, tone filled with… hatred when you spoke, which you didn’t intend for, but your burning rage for her was not controllable. “Don’t know her. She left not too long after I was a baby. Just up and left in the middle of the night and nobody has seen her since.” 

Kirishima looked at Sero, eyes saying way to go, idiot. He wanted to lighten the mood so he changed the subject quickly, “So, uh.. about your quirk..” You three sat there for what felt like hours just talking, having casual conversation. They asked about your quirk, showing high interest in every aspect of it. You reassured them that you didn’t shed hair so they didn’t need to worry about any of that. You didn’t realize that they were pro-heroes until they told you their hero names and you almost choked on your semi-hot coffee. You had heard of both but you never really are around the action to put a face to the name. They both do a lot of good work around your city, in which, you are thankful for with your father being on the police force. Without them, your dad would probably have been hurt or worse. 

Your anger about your mother had withered away and you were really enjoying yourself with the two men next to you. Your tail was moving to-and-fro the entire time, meaning you were happy. It got silent at one point and that prompted to Sero clear his throat then bump his elbow into Kirishima’s own, basically trying to push on this conversation. Kirishima turned his body a little toward you, his tone was soft, “Um.. This roommate thing.. It’s obvious you aren’t a serial killer, unless you’re a really good actor. You don’t have to give us an answ—“ You held your finger up with a smile because it was clear he was about to start rambling on due to nerves and not wanting to overstep. “You don’t have to say anymore. I’m super down for being your roommate.” It seemed like relief washed over the both of them because they smiled at you. “Hell yeah, you can move your stuff in at any time. Just let us know when so we can help you.” Sero nodded in your direction and you nodded back with a smile.

Moving in.. with two insanely attractive men.. What could go wrong, right?

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Wedding Fic (2/3)

Notes: So it’s been a HOT MINUTE since I wrote and posted a Kamilah fic, but I promised this 3 part fic and I keep my promises. Anyways I have LOTS and LOTS of Kamilah x MC fic ideas and will be trying to write whilst completing my college courses, but please be patient as my classes have high precedent over tumblr for obvious reasons. I hope you enjoy this fic, I felt it was a bit rushed but I’ve never been married so I’m not doing this from experience. If the Arabic is incorrect please correct me, I tried to use a reliable translator. I don’t typically do perma-tags but if you are still interested in Kamilah x MC fics and would like to be tagged please let me know somehow and I will try my best to remember.  

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Warnings: None that I’m aware of

Word Count 2400 (Yes I got lazy I’m sorry I was tired)

Amy rolled over, the soft glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains as she felt a pair of soft lips on her neck. She mumbled softly, letting her eyes flutter closed again as Kamilah wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

“Good morning Kamilah…” Amy rolled over while Kamilah slowly opened her eyes with a faint smile on her face. 

“Morning.” Kamilah groaned as they both stumbled out of bed, both of their legs weak and their bodies marked with bites and bruises. Amy stumbled over an empty wine bottle, falling into Kamilah before they erupted in laughter. 

“It’s not even our honeymoon yet…” Amy and Kamilah both smirked, their faces flushing red as Kamilah walked to the restroom. 

“Oh I’m well aware...if you thought last night was memorable...you still have no idea...little firefly…” Kamilah smirked before closing the door and leaving Amy to get dressed. Amy walked into their closet, selecting a red silk blouse, black skinny jeans and black high heels and emerging a few moments later. 

“So...this is goodbye for a while isn’t it…?” Amy pouted her bottom lip, it had been 2 weeks since Kamilah had proposed and today was the day. 

“Just for a few hours...but trust me, I would follow you around all day given the chance.” Kamilah cupped Amy’s face, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before gazing into her eyes. “I love you, so much…”

“I love you too Kamilah, I’ll see you later.” Amy kissed Kamilah once more before exiting the penthouse to rendezvous with Lily.

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

“Amy! Amy! Amyyyyyyy!!!!” Lily beamed with energy as Amy entered the lodge, close to the garden that would become their wedding scene in only a matter of hours. Lily wrapped Amy in a tight hug before Serafine gently tapped her shoulder. 

“Ma Cherie! You look as beautiful as ever!” Serafine’s infectious smile filled the room with some kind of energy, they exchanged kisses on the cheek as Lily led them to the bedroom of the lodge. Amy’s eye caught her wedding dress, a simple but elegant design, a deep red dress with gold and black embroidery of her name and Kamilah’s. Amy gently skimmed her hands along the fabric of the dress, before turning and catching the sight of Jax’s sword, resting on a plaque with his name engraved into it. 

“Wish you were here Jax...but I can feel your presence…” Amy gently placed her hand on the handle of the sword, closing her eyes as her mind slowly fluttered away in the same manner of the fragments. 

Amy opened her eyes, she was standing in the Shadow Den, but the shadow den that existed before Gaius returned, before Rheya or any true destruction had been brought. A smile reached her face as she felt a presence behind her, she quickly turned with a scowl before spotting a familiar face. 

“Hey there Stranger.” Jax stood in her memories, but Amy never recalled this memory. Amy felt tears in her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh Jax...you’ve...missed so much...I...I’m getting married…” Amy choked, Jax’s figure rushing to catch her.

“I know, I’ve been watching...I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all of you.” Amy met his eyes, his smile just as charismatic as when he was alive. 

“You need to go, you have a big day ahead of you. I’m glad I got to see you today Amy. I miss all of you.” Jax helped Amy to her feet before turning to walk away. Amy smiled, letting her mind drift back to the lodge.

Amy opened her eyes, a tear falling as Lily frowned. 

“You saw him, didn’t you Amy?” Lily and Serafine looked at each other solemnly, Amy taking a minute before smiling.

“Yeah...he’s there...he...he’s proud of us.” Amy pulled away, looking at Lily with wet but happy eyes. Serafine placed a gentle hand on Amy’s shoulder, slowly nodding at Lily as Amy’s phone buzzed. 

“It’s Adrian.” Amy nodded at Lily and Serafine who quietly exited the room, leaving Amy to speak with Adrian.

“Amy, how are you feeling? Today’s the big day…” Adrian’s soothing voice rang out of the phone, Amy glanced over at Jax’s sword, a small smile plastered on her face. 

“I’m...excited...I...saw Jax Adrian. He’s there..I can feel his presence.” Adrian let out a long sigh, before chuckling softly. 

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be watching you today. Amy, I’m very proud of you, you’ve come so far...I can’t wait to see you tonight…” Adrian laughs softly over the phone, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, “Kamilah is quite anxious...it’s almost concerning...I’m sure you’ll leave her speechless...see you later. Be safe Amy.”

“See you later Adrian, thank you.” Amy hung up the phone as Serafine and Lily re-entered the room, Serafine changed into a dress in the same shade of pink that her usual outfit resembled, Lily dressed in a deep and rich purple dress that accentuated her hair and features. “Well you two look stunning.” Amy smiled at them, both of them rolling their eyes softly, Serafine nodded her head towards Amy’s wedding dress, a signal it was time to get ready. 

“I can’t believe this is happening! I mean I can but I can’t!” Lily exclaimed as Amy slowly peeled her clothes away and slipped into the dress, Serafine’s golden laugh ringing as Lily rambled. 

“Darling you look stunning…” Serafine stood and assisted Amy in zipping up her dress, taking an egyptian necklace and placing it over Amy’s head and securing it on the back of her neck. “Kamilah will be speechless.” 

“Kamilah is going to lose her mind when she sees you-” Lily squealed as Serafine’s phone buzzed. 

“Looks like it’s just about time to head out...are you ready Amy?” Serafine held her hand out as Amy graciously took it, drawing a deep breath before taking her hand and leaving the lodge, heading for the nocturnal garden a few minutes away.

------------------------------------ Meanwhile -------------------------------------------------

Kamilah furiously paced back and forth in the luxurious lodge room, her breaths were a range of shallow pants and long sighs. Kamilah was dressed in a purple suit, different from her usual maroon one - this one specifically made for her wedding. Adrian stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face.

“Relax will you? Everything is going to be fine Kamilah.” He chuckled, walking over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I have never seen you like this in the long time I’ve known you.” 

“I just...god I can’t believe it Adrian. I have been many things in my lifetime, I thought that marriage was a dream that died with my humanity...never did I ever expect to meet someone like Amy. Should I read my vows over once more, maybe as a precaution?” Kamilah sighed, rubbing her temples as Adrian shook his head.

“Kamilah you’ve read them to me so many times I could read them to Amy at this point, you need to take a deep breath. Relax.” Adrian shuffled towards the liquor cabinet, pouring two glasses of bourbon, handing a glass to Kamilah. “Now hopefully this doesn’t intoxicate you so much that you forget your words.” 

Kamilah rolled her eyes, graciously taking the glass and downing it in one swift motion. 

“Much better. I think I’m ready Adrian. I’ve done many things in my lifetime, 2163 years does wonders to a woman, but I have never been so sure of anything in my life.” Kamilah let out a long breath, Adrian walking to her side and turned to face her.

“Kamilah Sayeed, it’s time for you to go get married.” He smiled, nodding to the door as they both walked towards the car. 

---------------------- Nocturnal Garden ----------------------------

Kamilah stepped out of the car, Adrian on her heels as they walked into the nocturnal garden. Kamilah turned her head, basking in the beauty of the location- the night phlox, night-blooming jasmine, hanging trumpets, and nicotiana all in full bloom, illuminated by the full moon.  A few close family members of Amy sat in the Garden, admiring its beauty, Amy,s mother and father having a conversation under a large pink tree. Kamilah drew a deep breath, letting the cool breeze blow through her hair. Adrian walked ahead towards the actual setup, carefully decorated in a red and purple theme. Kamilah followed after a moment, examining the tables and checking on the cake. Kamilah smiled, recalling the memory of her and Amy taste-testing the flavors - more specifically Amy dotting her nose with frosting and giving her sweet sugary kisses between samples.

“Let me guess, you went with Bourbon chocolate?” Adrian playfully nudged Kamilah, who simply rolled her eyes at his accuracy. 

“Of course, although since I selected the liquor I let Amy choose this one. It’s not my fault she’s a woman of great taste.” Kamilah smirked, her heart speeding up at the mere thought of Amy. Kamilah sighed, glancing at her watch, the seconds hand slowly moving around as midnight neared. 

“In only a few minutes you’ll be married...we should get moving Kamilah. Everything looks good to go.” Adrian met her eyes, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “I couldn’t be more proud of my sister.”

“Adrian...this never would have happened without you...thank you.” Kamilah smiled at him, both of their eyes glistening with tears as they walked towards the central set-up. Kamilah adjusted her suit, her head perking up at the distant sound of tires, followed by hushed voices that grew nearer and nearer. 

“Shhh Lily…” Serafine’s hushed voice rang out from behind the bushes, Lily and Serafine slowly appearing and taking seats by the site. Kamilah gave them a grateful smile, her head turning as Amy emerged, her red dress shimmering in the moonlight - taking all of the wind out of Kamilah’s lungs. Kamilah spotted Jax’s sword on Amy’s back, her eyes welling with tears as she felt a warm presence nearby, the wind nearly whispering to her as she mumbled. 

“Thank you Jax…” Adrian smiled, feeling his presence as he watched Amy slowly make her way up to Kamilah, who greeted her by taking her hands. 

“You look stunning…” Kamilah whispered quietly as Adrian stepped behind them, his hands folded together. 

“We’re gathered here today to unite two souls in a boundless union, a promise of love even after death. The conjoining of two vampires who seek to live eternity together. Amy?” Adrian smiles at her, Amy fiddles with Kamilah’s hands before speaking softly but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Kamilah Sayeed, when we first met, I never would have imagined I’d be standing here in front of you like this. I remember how you slowly warmed up to me, how you slowly let me see the parts of you that you hid from the rest of the world. When I’m with you, I don’t just fall more in love with you, I fall in love with the person you make me want to be, with the person I am when I’m with you. أُحبكِ يا كميلة”

Amy’s eyes met Kamilah’s as she let a tear fall down her cheek, Kamilah lifting a hand to wipe it away as the guests watched in awe. Amy catches sight of her parents who smile and nod, Adrian clearing his throat and gesturing to Kamilah. 

“Kamilah?” 

“Amy, when I met you I thought of you as nothing more than a mere mortal, another assistant Adrian would soon discard. I’ve come to find that you are much more than that, you’re a chaotic force of energy that has surprised me every day. I thought I’d never love again, but you’ve proven me wrong. I love you, for everything you do and everything you are - you make me into my best self. There’s not an ocean I wouldn’t cross for you, no height I wouldn’t climb to or a depth I wouldn’t jump to for you. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire lifetime, there’s nobody else I’d want standing in front of me. I love you Amy.” Kamilah gently squeezed Amy’s hands, rubbing her thumb over Amy’s as Adrian nods.

“Amy, do you take Kamilah Sayeed as your wife? Not just in this lifetime but for any lifetime after?  To love her unconditionally? In good times and bad, in chaos and peace, in the present and far future?”

“I do.”

“Kamilah Sayeed, do you take Amy as your wife? Not just in this lifetime but for any lifetime after?  To love her unconditionally? In good times and bad, in chaos and peace, in the present and far future?”

“I do. I absolutely do.” 

“Then...I pronounce you wife and wife, bound in blood for eternity, eternally promised to love and be loved by one another. Kamilah, she’s all yours.” Adrian nods as Kamilah sweeps Amy into a passionate but restrained kiss, Lily bouncing up and down as Serafine and the remaining guests clap and wipe their tears. Amy gently tangled her hands in Kamilah’s hair, making a soft squeaking noise as Kamilah dipped her down, holding her close and steady as she peppered her with more kisses. Amy felt the whole world melt away, the clapping of the guests fading into the distance as she focused on Kamilah, all her senses overwhelmed by Kamilah’s lips, her touch, her scent, her. She smiled against Kamilah, disregarding the time that passed. Kamilah finally let her go, pulling her back to stand with a smirk on her face as they turned to their guests, smiles on their faces. By that time Adrian had left the stand and joined the rest of the guests, mingling and socializing before Kamilah called their attention. 

“Please, this is a celebration, enjoy yourselves tonight!” Kamilah exclaimed, immediately turning to face Amy before leaning in close and letting her lips graze her earlobe. 

“And I’ll be enjoying you later...when we go home…Mrs.Sayeed” A playful and teasing look dancing in her eyes as Amy chuckled softly, cupping her face with both of her hands. Amy smiled and leaned forward, giving Kamilah a long and soft kiss before grabbing her hand as they walked to their guests, planning to revel in their newfound happiness for the night. 

[mypoisonedvine]

Sessions with August | August Walker x Reader -- Chapter 1

This is something I’ve been working on for a while with my bestie @nuns-and-roses​!  We will be posting some future chapters from her blog so give her a follow for more of this (and also lots of amazing fics).

Summary: As a CIA psychiatrist, most of your clients are aggressive, intimidating, maybe even a little threatening.  But none of them are quite like August Walker.  You were trained to trust your gut and remove yourself from any situation that made you uncomfortable.  If you had followed that training, maybe you could’ve saved yourself from the twisted world he planned to bring you into…

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions/descriptions of childhood abuse; no smut in this chapter but there will be eventual non-con/heavy dub con and lots of dark themes like manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, etc.  Discretion is advised.

Session 1 - October 9th 

You only had five minutes between sessions each day, and it was a very important time.  As a psychiatrist seeing patients, there is limited time to oneself.  Your patients become a part of you, and you assume an identity at work that often follows you home.

Reserved, kind, patient.  Every single word, every movement, was an act.  And it's not that you were really lying or manipulating your patients, it's just that you had to close off most of yourself to them.  It was how both of you were protected.

In five minutes, you had time to step out of that persona while you sorted your files and grabbed a quick snack.  You contemplated between a granola bar or clementine, eventually choosing the latter, though you had to wash your hands to get off the sticky residue of the acidic peel.

As you washed your hands, you contemplated yourself in the mirror.  You had put a lot of thought into your look for this persona.  To save time and energy, you wore the same thing every day: your closet was all black pencil skirts, white button-downs and black blazers, with only a little space for your off-work clothing (which never got much use).  In winter you added thick stockings to keep from freezing during the walk to and from your car, but otherwise it remained the same.  Even the jewelry-- freshwater pearl studs and a dainty gold tennis bracelet-- remained the same, along with your beloved pair of Italian leather heels which weren't so high that you felt overdressed, but just high enough that you felt taller, and perhaps a bit sexy though you knew that shouldn't matter.

The goal was to look neutral, to not have your appearance distract in any way.  To blend in.  It had actually been sort of difficult to perfect one makeup look that you could put on quickly before work, but you'd managed.  Your hair was probably what you spent the most time on each morning, since it had to be pulled back pretty tight and you wanted every single hair to be in place.

Checking the clock, you saw that it was about time to call in your next appointment.  It was a new patient, a somewhat recent recruit that had already garnered a bit of a reputation.  From what you'd heard he was incredibly ambitious to the point of being a bit cutthroat.  What the rumors had failed to mention, you realized as you opened the door to guide him in from the waiting room, was that he was hot.  And not just "hey, good for you!" hot, but "how am I expected to get any work done in these conditions?!" hot.  You introduced yourself with a firm handshake and tried not to think about the size of his hands or the strength of his grip.

"Mr. Walker, please, have a seat," you encouraged, motioning to the room.

"Which one?" he asked, noticing the menagerie of chairs and sofas in your office.

"Ah, yes, this may be strange if you're used to a more... clinical space," you nodded.  "Sit wherever you'd like.  Whatever looks most comfortable to you."

He examined his options and seemed to be putting more thought to it than most did.

"This is a test, isn't it?  You want to see what kind of person I am by what I pick?" 

You laughed.  "No, I just want you to have options."

He settled for a high back chair which normally made people look kind of short but his body barely fit into it.  He made it look like a toy chair for a child.

"Is that your final answer?" you asked with a smile.

"I knew it was a test," he frowned.

"It's really not," you laughed, "I just want you to be comfortable."

"Tell me what it says about me.  What do you know because I picked this chair?" he demanded, apparently not believing you that it wasn't a test.

"What do you think it says about you?" you asked instead.

He thought about that for a second.  "I guess I'm probably more… structured than the guy who picks the bean bag.  More formal."

You nodded. "That makes sense."

"Who picks the bean bag anyway?" he smirked.

"Almost no one picks the bean bag."

He smiled, and it looked a little rehearsed.  But it was only the first day, so maybe he would open up over time.

“What are we supposed to do in here?” he asked, looking around as if he was expecting something he could see to explain therapy: did he think you were going to give him shocks or something?

“Well, that’s sort of up to you, Mr. Walker.  The goal of these sessions is really just for you to have time each week that you can spend however you’d like.”

“Really?  I could just come in here and read a book or whatever?”

“Yes, although I can’t promise you that would be the best use of your time.”

“Could I clean my gun?” he pressed.

You tried not to have a strong reaction.  Then again, that could describe a lot of your sessions.  “I personally would prefer that you didn’t, to be honest.” He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of guns.”

“No, I’m not,” you answered honestly, “but I think it’s better for you if this time feels distinct from your work.  I know that can be difficult since this is happening through your work and is being funded by your work and we work in different wings of the same building…”

“I don’t need time away from my job.  I love my job.” “I’m glad to hear that.  I love my job, too, but I would have to say that it is important to my health that I get some time separate from that.”

“Your job is way worse than mine,” he grinned.

“Really?” you smiled back. “A lot of people would say my job is easy.”

“Listening to these crazies bitch all day?  I’d lose my mind,” he chuckled.

“Who said I hadn’t lost mine?” you smirked.

//

Session 2 - October 16th

“You’re wearing the same thing as last time,” he noticed instantly.  It usually took a few sessions for someone to notice.  Had he really spent so much time looking at you that he remembered what you’d worn?

“Yes, I am,” you agreed.

“Lucky coincidence?” he asked.

“No, I actually wear the same clothes every day,” you corrected.  He gave you a confused look.  “It saves me time in the morning.”

“That’s it?  You wear the same outfit every single day, just to save time in the morning?”

You looked to the ground, questioning how honest you should get.  But how could you expect him to be honest with you if you couldn’t open up in this one little way?

“Clothing is a form of self-expression, and these sessions aren’t about expressing my self,” you explained.  “I’d hate for my clothing choices to become a distraction.”

He looked you up and down and you felt more observed than you preferred to be. 

“What you’re wearing now is plenty distracting on its own,” he said darkly.

You shifted in your seat.  You felt very observed, more than you preferred to be.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” you awkwardly replied.

“Don’t be sorry,” he shrugged.

“What… what were we talking about before?” you asked awkwardly.  

//

Session 3 - October 23rd

“Good afternoon,” you smiled, extending your hand for a handshake.  Why did you feel a little awkward when he shook your hand in return?  “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking,” he smiled.  “How about you?”

“Well, thank you,” you answered warmly, taking your seat.  “So, what do you want to talk about today?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged.

“Well, it’s up to you to guide the discussion wherever you want it to go.”

“What do the superiors think we should be talking about?” he asked, sounding a little incredulous.

“Do you think I get notes from your managers on what to discuss with you?”

“I… sort of assumed,” he admitted.

“I don’t.  This is your time.  Use it however you’d like.”

The way he looked at you made you wonder if he was going to take that a little too seriously.

“I guess you want me to talk about my traumatic childhood or something?” 

“Well, if you’d like to…”

August looked at where his shoe was propped over his other knee, bouncing it as if he was nervous.

“It’s only our second session,” you dismissed.

“Right, right,” he responded, sounding like he was deep in thought.  “I don’t want to burden you…”

“Burden?  August, never worry about that.  It’s my job.  I’m here to help you.”

He looked up at you again, something broken and hollow in his expression.  “It’s… upsetting.”

“Try me.”

He took a shaky breath, rubbing his hands together.  You furrowed your brow at the complete 180 in his body language. 

“Well,” he began slowly, “I always knew something was wrong when I was a kid.  I knew that that wasn’t how things were supposed to be, even if it was the only thing I’d ever known.”

He narrowed his eyes like he was thinking, then glanced over to the window.

“I knew there wasn’t supposed to be blood on the walls,” he recalled with a shockingly-neutral expression, “I knew there was something wrong…”

You nodded but said nothing, wanting to let him finish this train of thought before you contributed.

“My mother…” he continued, his voice getting darker, “she was troubled, I suppose.  She hated me.  I don’t know what I did that made her hate me so much.  She was good at putting on a face for other people, hiding my cuts and bruises so people wouldn’t ask questions.  But in those days, no one was really asking questions anyway.  Children were property, and women were always doing right by their children no matter what they did.”

You waited for the silence to steep for a while before you commented.  “That sounds… terrible,” you replied quietly, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he responded with a curt nod.

“Where was your father in all this?”

“Who knows?”

“He wasn’t in the picture,” you presumed.

“No, he lived with us.  He just… wasn’t there.  I guess he didn’t see anything wrong with it.  She always had dinner ready on the table when he got home, and past that, he barely even acknowledged my existence.  I guess he trusted her to raise me.  I tried to tell him a few times, but he just told me to respect my mother.  He just wanted me to leave him alone.”

“Do you have any memories of time alone with your father?”

“No,” he said like he was realizing it for the first time.  “No, I don’t think I was ever alone with my father.”

You decided to let that one sit, hoping to let him continue without you prompting him.

“Every day was hell with her,” he finally added after a moment.  “It was always something.  No matter what I did, I had always done something wrong.  She didn’t always beat me… sometimes she would burn spices and blow the smoke in my face.  Sometimes she would make me kneel on uncooked rice.  Mostly it was just beatings, though.  I lost a lot of my teeth early because of it.  And I’m still deaf in this ear,” he explained, motioning to his left ear.

“Wow,” you whispered.  “Did no one ever stick up for you?  Nobody ever questioned your injuries, like a doctor, maybe?”

“I didn’t see a doctor until I was an adult,” he laughed coldly.  “She didn’t believe in that.  She thought it was all part of the mind, I think-- that every health problem was just an outward reflection of all my inner faults.  Thankfully, I never came down with anything too serious.  She was always able to nurse me back to health, even when I got what I realize now was almost certainly pneumonia.”

“Was she more caring when you were ill?”

“Not exactly a warm-and-fuzzy type, but yes, she was gentler.  She didn’t beat me until I was well again.”

“How generous,” you groaned with an eyeroll.

“I know, but you learn to appreciate the little things,” he explained. “You must have clung to any affection from adults that you could,” you offered.

“Yes, I did.”

“That seems like a reasonable response.”

“Yes…” he repeated, something darker crossing his tone, “but it can be dangerous, chasing down affection…”

You shuddered a little, but suppressed it.  You wanted to explore that statement more, but a glance at the clock revealed you didn’t have even close to enough time to dig into it.  

“Sounds like something we can pick up with next week,” you said lightly.

“Oh, is it already time?”

“Getting close to it,” you nodded.  “I don’t want to cut you off or anything.  This has been really productive.  I feel like I’m getting to know you better.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “ditto.”

“And before we wrap up, I just want to say a few things, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

“First, thank you for sharing this with me.”  

He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Second, I want to tell you that you didn’t do anything to make your mother hurt you like that.  There’s nothing you could’ve done to justify that… you were a child.  You were her child.  She was supposed to take care of you, and she didn’t.  And it wasn’t because you did something wrong, but simply because there are awful, evil, sick people in this world who do terrible things to innocent people.”

He looked taken aback by that.  “Nobody’s innocent.”

That wasn’t the response you expected.  Most people hear “it’s not your fault” and brush it away, say that they know that even if they don’t, say that they’ve heard it all before.  Had August not heard this before?  Was this the first time someone was responding this way?  Worse, was this the first time he’d told someone at all?

“August, you were a child.  You were innocent.”

He nodded, but didn’t seem super convinced.

“And, lastly,” you finished with a sigh, “does this time next week work for you?”

//

Sometimes, you just have that itch in your brain, and you need to scratch it.  On your way to your car from your office, you found yourself taking a detour to the records office, and leaning on the desk of the receptionist there.

“Good evening, Melissa,” you greeted.

“Oh, hey!” she smiled back from behind her computer.  “What’s up?”

“Could you get me anything you have on August Walker?”

“You should be able to access that already--”

“No, that’s just from his time in Operations.  He used to work in Support.”

“Really?”

“Um, yeah.  Can you… get me that file?”

“Yeah, sure.  ...Looks like he had another psychiatrist then, too.  I think they had a mandated intake interview back then.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’ve got some tapes here.”

You laughed a little when she actually handed you literal cassettes.  “Oh, you mean tapes.  I assumed it was digital.”

“Not this far back.”

You slipped the tape into your car’s tape player on your drive home.  Perks of having a shitty old car.

So, tell me, August, the calm male voice of the retired Dr. Newbury began, what inspires your interest in the CIA?  

I have a talent.  I want it to get some use.

What do you mean when you say ‘talent’?

I can do things other people can’t.  And I don’t mean physically, although I suppose that’s true, too.  What I mean is, I can tolerate things other people can’t.  I can survive things other people can’t.  There’s something about people that makes them… sensitive.  Reactive.  I don’t think I have that.  I don’t feel things the way other people do.

And you don’t see that as a weakness?

I think I did, once.  But I realize now that it’s my greatest strength.  I have a sense of… peace, that most people can only dream of.  

Peace?  Is that something that’s important to you?

Isn’t it important to everyone?

That’s fair.  Where do you think that sense of peace comes from?

Is it time to dig into my childhood, Doc?

You shivered at how similar it sounded to his own discussion with you, even when he was clearly so much younger.

I suppose.

Are you one of those people who thinks peace can only come from suffering?

Let’s not talk about me.

Well, I think that suffering is overrated.  My childhood, since you’re dying to know, was fine.  Simple.  Something in me is… missing, maybe, but it wasn’t stolen.  My mom was sweet-- the kind of person who would bake a pie and leave it in the windowsill to cool.  Always at social functions, always showing me off.  

And your father?

Quiet.  Stern, never cruel.  I mean, he would discipline me when I did something wrong-- but that’s not cruelty, that’s love, isn’t it?

You could say that.

Then sure, my father loved me.

Is that the only way your father loved you?  Through discipline?

Is there any other way?

You stopped the tape but what you had heard echoed in your mind.  There was something about this story that you hadn’t gotten out of what he had told you.  That undefinable, inscrutable element that could only be described as the truth.  Of course you had questioned his story at the time, but you had been told to believe people when they were confessing something so serious, even as some covert sense told you that something was wrong.

You pulled over and grabbed a paper file from the seat next to you.  

“Of course,” you mumbled aloud to yourself, “of course something was wrong…”

You flipped to his physical examination results from his first intake.  He was just 19 then, a few weeks before the interview you had just listened to.

Perfect hearing in both ears.  20/20 vision.  Flawless dental impressions-- due mainly to 7 years of corrective braces staggered throughout his childhood.

You felt sick-- actually, physically sick.  As much as you had anticipated that there was something off with his original story, you hadn’t prepared for such a significant fabrication.  You still didn’t understand why he had lied to you… or what more you would learn had been simply a story.

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: T

Chapter Summary: A month after Chat Noir learns Marinette's identity, they're just vibin'

Word Count: 4388 | Chapter 2/2

Notes: Written for @chatnoirinette​ through the @mlbforblm​ charity drive!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organization for racial justice.  I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able!  I have two fic request slots left as of 7/17/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well

XXX

Marinette glanced over her shoulder for what had to have been the thirtieth time.  Outside her bedroom window, stormclouds were gathering over the glittering skyline. What if the weather was too dangerous for Chat to come visit tonight?  Or what if he’d gotten held up with something in his civilian life?  That happened too often, though he probably spent every moment he could with her now.  It was oddly comforting that he wanted to be around her so much, even if it was just keeping her company while she worked on homework, or deciphered the grimoire, or let the kwamis out for some fresh air.

Despite seeing him practically every day, she still managed to miss him.

“He’ll be here,” Tikki said from her perch on top of Marinette’s mannequin.  

She sighed.  “That obvious, huh?”

“You almost pinned the collar to my leg.”

Oops.  As it was, the she’d bunched up the collar of Juleka’s dress all wrong.  She’d have to remove the pins and smooth it out again unless she wanted the fabric to pucker in her sewing machine.

“Sorry Tikki.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

She’d survived with only seeing her partner during akuma attacks and patrols for two years now.  But in these few weeks since she’d accidentally revealed her identity, she’d come to rely on him more than ever.  Maybe too much, honestly.  She had no idea what civilian responsibilities he was carrying on his own.

Well, she had a guess, but that was better left unsaid until she knew for sure.

You could always ask him, she thought for the thousandth time, but banished it just as quickly.  

A tap at her window made her jump and prick her finger.  Even startled as she was, guilty relief flooded her.  Tikki was right; he’d shown up anyway.

She sucked on the sore spot as she ran to open the window.  “You know Papa would let you in the front door.”

“But then I’d miss getting to see you in your natural habitat, Bugaboo.”  Chat Noir grinned as he swung himself in.  Luckily it hadn’t started raining yet.  She didn’t want her room smelling like wet cat.

“My ‘natural habitat’ has too many pins on the floor.”  She scrambled to pick them up before he ended up stepping on one.  His boots would have protected his feet, but he was polite enough to remove them every time he entered, even though she’d never asked him to.

At least, she’d never asked Chat.  That was one of her flimsier evidences for his identity, though.

“I like it.  It’s cozy.”  He plopped down on her chaise, which he’d claimed for himself weeks ago.  Not that she minded.  She kept that space clear for him, even when fabric and thread was piled on every other surface.

“What about your room?  Is it this ‘cozy’?”  She asked.  It was an innocent question, not overtly fishing for information on his identity.  

“Nah.  I’m not allowed to… I have to keep things tidy.”  He frowned.

Another piece towards her theory.  She’d add that note in the conspiracy page she’d webbed out in her diary.

“Oh!  I’ve got something for you!”  He untied a plastic bag that he’d hung from his belt.  “It, um, might be a little bit squished, but hopefully it’ll still taste good.”

Her eyes widened at the small box of cupcakes he presented to her.  The frosting was pale pink, with wobbly dots of chocolate arranged to look like the spots on her yo-yo.  They were a little smushed, but still in remarkably good shape for having traveled with Chat across Paris.  She popped off the box’s translucent lid, giggling at the tiny pigeon stickers at each corner of it.

He winced.  “They look terrible, don’t they?  I know I’m not as good at baking as you, but Mr. Ramier helped so I thought they might be kind of okay—”

“They’re perfect.”  She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.  “You didn’t have to make me anything, Kitty.”

“I know, but I wanted to.  Since you’re always sharing your delicious pastries with me—”

“Maman and Papa make most of those.”

“—and because you deserve something nice, and you refuse to let me buy you anything.”

Her face warmed.  Before she’d put that rule into place, he’d tried to bring her a present every time he visited.  Considering he visited a lot, that would have taken a toll on his wallet.

Unless money wasn’t an issue for him, of course.

Stop that, she told herself.  She could hardly deny her feelings for Chat anymore, but she couldn’t keep muddling them with feelings for her first crush.  Not until she knew for sure they were one and the same.

Now if only she could stop being a coward and ask him.

“W-well thanks,” she said quickly.  “You better help me eat them.”

He winked.  “Can do, Princess.”

Before they dug in, she bundled her fabric away and pulled out the Miracle Box from its hiding place next to her sewing machine.  It was the perfect spot, now that she’d learned how disguise it as an extra sewing box rather than that Ladybug-themed egg-thing.  She’d never have been able to keep that a secret.

“Who’s coming out today?”  Chat asked.  He’d sprawled on the chaise with his hands propping up his chin.  Tikki had nestled herself in his hair, eating half of a cupcake and scattering crumbs in his golden locks.  

The kwami would probably enjoy Chat Noir’s visits more if Plagg was allowed out for her to play with.  Plagg would devour all of her parents’ cheese-filled pastries, and Marinette… Marinette would have to look into her partner’s unmasked eyes and admit she was still half in love with someone else.

Unless she wasn’t.  But what if she was?  A few hardly-lucid dreams and wishful evidence weren’t proof that Chat Noir was actually Adrien.

She shook her head.  That train of thought could do donuts in her brain if she didn’t pull the brakes.

“I was thinking Kaalki and Pollen.”  She wasn’t up for any of the rowdier kwamis tonight, even with Chat helping her “babysit.”  Plus the two of them liked sweets; they’d appreciate the cupcakes.

She pulled out the hair comb and glasses, and Chat Noir excitedly put them both on.  The miraculouses somehow managed to make him look both dorkier and cuter at the same time.  Maybe that was just because he was at his cutest when he was being a dork.

Tikki smiled wide as Kaalki and Pollen appeared in flashes of light.

“Oooh, someone glorious and famous.” Kaalki flew in circles around Chat Noir’s head, nudging a few of his tufts of hair with her hoof.  “You would make a fine holder.  Plagg wouldn’t be up for a trade, would he?”

Chat blushed beneath his mask, making Marinette giggle.

“Uh, sorry, but I’m going to have to say neigh to that.”

Pollen covered her laugh in her hands. Kaalki just harumphed.

“Fine.  Your sense of humor is far too unpolished anyway.”

Glorious and famous.  Kaalki might have been talking about his status as a hero of Paris, but Marinette still made note.

They fell into their usual routine, Chat Noir entertaining the kwamis by answering their questions about the world while Marinette went back to work.  The steady conversation was a better backdrop than any white noise or instrumental music playlists.  She only wished she had time to join them.  Unfortunately, she’d put off this dress for too long.  She only had a week before Juleka wa supposed to model the floral sundress at the school’s ameteur fashion show, and who knew how many akumas would strike between now and then?

Marinette was just getting ready to transfer the fabric from the mannequin to her sewing desk when she heard Pollen ask Chat, “How are things between you and your Princess?”

The pins slipped from her hand.  She barely noticed a couple pricking into her slipper.

Chat had sat up straight since the last time she’d glanced back, and the nervous yet hopeful smile on his face threatened to melt her.

“Uh—well—how are things between us, Marinette?”

Her mouth briefly forgot how to make words.  She knew what Pollen meant; Tikki and her gossiped about Marinette’s love life all the time. Maybe she shouldn’t have let the bee kwami out tonight.

“Well, um.”  Her fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of her pajama pants.  Say something, Marinette! “We’re—we’re best friends, right?”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth.  How many times had she died inside over Adrien calling her just a friend?  And no matter who Chat was beneath the mask, she didn't want to obscure her true feelings for him.

But his face still lit up even brighter.  “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course, Kitty.”  She sat on the chaise, scooting close to him.  Probably closer than even a best friend should, but it wasn’t like Chat was shy about personal space.  “I don’t let just anyone climb in my window, you know.”

“Awwww,” Pollen sighed while crossing her hands over her heart.  Tikki gave Marinette a knowing look, which she pretended to ignore.

Then Marinette shoved a cupcake into her mouth before she could say anything more incriminating.

Chat blinked.  She wondered if he was impressed—that cupcake had been about the size of her fist. Guess she could’ve fit her fist in her mouth after all, but at least the cupcake tasted better.

“Thesh ah really goo’.” 

...Well, she said she wouldn’t say anything incriminating.  She’d never ruled out saying anything stupid.

Chat Noir laughed.  “For a Princess, your table manners could use some work.”

She swallowed about half the cupcake.  It was really good, thick and chocolatey with a hint of strawberry.  It probably would’ve tasted better if she’d taken the time to savor it.  But the loss was worth it for the look on his face.

“No table manners allowed.  Only vibes.”

He blinked before bursting out a real laugh, fuller and brighter than the one before.  One that she was sounded strikingly familiar—especially with the backdrop of rain hitting the window behind them.

That truth cracked like a flash of lightning.

“You’ve been hanging out with Nino too much.”  He wiped a claw under his eye, flicking away a few drops of water.

It was him. It had to be him. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere.

“Princess, what’s a ‘vibe’?”  Pollen asked.

“I believe it’s like a, like a feeling,” Kaalki answered over the sound of Chat’s cackle.  “Perhaps there’s a kwami of vibes?  Or would that fall under Duusu’s domain?”

Marinette was too stunned from the whiplash of Adrien’s laugh and Pollen’s question to actually answer.

“Sort of,” Tikki interjected instead.  “Marinette and her friends sometimes talk about vibes like they’re feelings, but they also use ‘vibing’ as an action.  I’m still not really sure what that means though.  Maybe we should Google it?”

When she sat on Marinette’s computer keyboard, the desktop collage of Adrien’s photos flashed on the screen.  Marinette almost lunged for her kwami in horror, but Chat was still laughing too hard to notice.

“Princess—what’s a—what’s a vibe?”  He got out between tears.

Then he actually doubled over far enough that he toppled off the chaise—which made Marinette laugh so hard she choked on her remaining cupcake. 

Adrien was dressed in a catsuit, literally rolling on the floor laughing.  That was more hilarious than even the kwamis trying to understand teenage slang.

“Marinette?  Are you okay?”  Tikki hovered up to her face, her blue eyes filling Marinette’s vision.

She giggled again, coughing out crumbs stuck in the back of her throat.

“I’m—I’m straight up vibing!”  

With that, she too rolled off the chaise and fell on top of Chat.  He yelped before giggling again, wrapping his arms around her.

“Spare vibes, Princess?  Spare vibes for a poor vibeless kitty?”

“Ack!”  She flailed as he tickled her sides.  “Nooo, stop!  You’re stealing all the vibes!”  

“Were vibes in the cupcakes?”  Pollen whispered to Kaalki, prompting another giggling fit from both Marinette and Chat Noir.

“Maybe it’s a secret,” Kaalki replied.  “Like a code.  For when the two of them want to do… whatever this is.”  She waved a hoof towards where they were tangled together.

It was only then that Marinette realized what this would look like.  And the fact that the floor wasn’t that thick, and her parents might hear something any minute.

Not to mention the fact that Adrien was tickling her.

“I, um, need some air!”  She burst, scrambling off from his chest.

“Huh?  Wait, Marinette!” 

He reached out a hand, but she’d already bolted up her ladder and shoved open her skylight.

Which, of course, let rain dump right into her bed.  Oops.

“What was in those cupcakes?”  She mumbled, climbing onto her balcony shutting the skylight behind her.  

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there.  The rain wasn’t doing a quick enough job of it, even though the spring shower chilled the rest of her to the bone.  Had she flushed her last brain cell down the toilet?  What was she thinking? 

Of course, she was stupid with Chat Noir all the time.  They’d challenged each other to handstand contests, dared each other to eat spicy peppers, even one-upped each other’s Hawkmoth impersonations.  Chat might be Adrien, but that meant Adrien was still Chat. Knowing his identity didn’t change the fact that he was her ridiculous partner.

“Marinette?”  A blond head poked out of the skylight.  The glasses were askew on his nose; the golden hair comb had almost fallen out. “If you want me to leave, I can.  You don’t need to stay out here and get soaked.”

It was a bit late for that.  Even though she had ducked under the awning, the rain was blowing practically sideways.  She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.  Why had she worn her pajama tank?  Not that it mattered; Adrien had seen her in it before.  She could hardly embarrass herself more than she already had.

“N-no, of course not!  I just thought, we were being kind of loud, and it’s late, and since you didn’t come in through the front door…”

Chat winced as he climbed out onto the balcony to stand beside her.  Just a few seconds out in the rain, and his hair was already plastered to his forehead in a wet mop.  The glasses were too splattered to see through; he removed them and the bee miraculous with his free hand and put them in his pocket.

As for his other hand...

“Well, at least use this.  It might work a little better than your awning.”

...He popped open the umbrella.  Black and slick with rain, it brought her back to a moment two years ago.  Different green eyes, but the same soft gaze.  

“Of course you’d grab that one.”  She couldn’t help smiling.  It was the only umbrella she owned, and it had been sitting by her desk, but it still felt ironic.  

She reached for the umbrella, but Chat pulled it back at the last moment.

“Wait, it’s broken, isn’t it?”  He squinted up at its underside—

Just in time for it to snap shut on his head.

A laugh burst from her like a crack of thunder.  “Come on, Ad—Kitty.  It’s drier over here.” 

He disentangled himself from the umbrella and followed her to the corner of the balcony, where the rain hadn’t quite snuck under the awning.  

“Why do you have this old thing anyway?  Looks like a piece of junk.”  He twirled the now-closed umbrella like his baton, but fumbled it under her folding chair, where it promptly exploded open.  Chat scowled.  “Oh, I see how it is.  When I want you to open, you only know how to stay shut.  But when you’re out on your own you’re ready to party.”

The umbrella rolled slightly as it began to fill with rainwater.  Marinette laughed as Chat continued to glare at it.

“Be nice to that umbrella.  Someone very special gave it to me.”  She stretched out her legs, letting her heels dangle in the puddles in the brick.  Her fairy lights reflected in the water, casting the two of them in an ethereal glow.

“Oh, really?  Should I be jealous?”  He playfully wrapped an arm around her back.  Every place he touched burned, even though she knew the gesture was just part of his jealous act.

She hummed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“...Oh.”  She felt him deflate, though he infused his voice with fake confidence.  “Well, good.  I’m a pretty territorial cat, you know.”

Gently, she tugged on the bell at his neck until he met her eyes.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” she clarified, “because I know he’s you.”

Chat Noir’s—Adrien’s—eyes widened.  But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head with a smile.

“I should’ve known you’d figure me out.  You’ve already done it once in your sleep.”

She blinked.  “I did?  And—and I’m right?”

She’d been sure, but it was still another thing to hear him admit it.

And it was yet another thing to hear “claws in.” To see green lightning crackle over over him, unmasking Adrien’s tender face.

The electricity had barely faded before she flung her arms around him.

“Woah!”  He laughed before hugging her back just as tightly.  “You know, I think I should be jealous.  You never hugged Chat Noir like this.”

“That’s not true.  I definitely hugged you tighter after we fought the Scrambler last week.”

“Huh.  I guess it just doesn’t have the same effect when I’m covered in egg whites.  Or maybe it’s because the suit isn’t in the way now.”

She was all too aware of that.  His bare hands were warm on her back, even through her pajama shirt.  Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, where she could drink in his scent unobscured by the leather suit.

“Sniffing me again?”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

She flushed at being caught.  Adrien her friend from school might not have called her out for it, but Adrien her partner of two years would.  Well, two could play at that game.

“Oh, like you haven’t sniffed me before.  Besides, I can’t help it that you smell radiant, carefree, and dreamy.”

He looked mortified.  “That commercial was over a year ago!  Even Wayhem forgot about that!”

“Wayhem probably didn’t watch it two hundred and fifty-five times.”

“...I can’t tell which one of us should be more embarrassed about that.”

“Probably me,” she admitted.  “What was your point again?”

“Either we both get sniffing rights, or neither of us does.  That’s fair.”

She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his neck.  “Fine.  But I probably just smell wet.”

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tickling the part of her hair.  “Don’t worry.  You smell perfect.”

Maybe it should’ve been an awkward compliment, but he still found herself giddy over it.

“Thank you.  You smell like cheese.”

“Hey!”  He pouted.  “What happened to ‘radiant, carefree, and dreamy’?”

“She gave you a compliment, kid. What’s more radiant than cheese?”  Plagg asked.

Marinette nearly screamed.  She should’ve realized he was there, but he’d blended into the shadows in the wake of Adrien’s detransformation.

“Plagg!”  Adrien hissed.  “Go inside with Tikki.  We’re having a moment.”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Plagg dismissively waved a paw.  “You got any cheese in there for me, Pigtails?”

“Uh—Tikki can get you some cheese-filled pastries from downstairs.  Don’t let my parents see you.”

“They’ll never know I was there.  Unless they notice a plate of those delicious treats is gone.” The kwami grinned and dove through the floor.  

Well, that was about all she could expect.  Hopefully Tikki could keep him under control.  If not, Marinette might have to fake a rat infestation.

“Sorry about him.” Adrien sighed.  “He’s always like that.”

“Could’ve been worse.  Imagine if you were stuck with Xuppu or Roarr as your kwami.”

He laughed.  “Pretty sure my father would have grounded me for life if he saw the mess.  Or he would’ve found out my identity.  Probably both.”

Chat had been there the one day Marinette decided to let the monkey and tiger kwamis outside of the miracle box.  She’d actually had to transform and use her Lucky Charm just to undo the damage.  

“Speaking of which… I knew it was only a matter of time, but how did you learn my identity?”  He asked.  “If I need to be more careful…”

She shook her head.  “It’s not that.  I… I don’t know if I can even explain it.  At first I thought it was just wishful thinking.  Ever since we spent the night at Mr. Ramier’s apartment, I…”

She blushed and bit her lip.  Getting caught sniffing him might have been embarrassing, but admitting this somehow felt more personal.

“What?” He asked.  “Is it because I smelled the same as Chat and myself?”

“Huh?  No—well, sort of?  Maybe subconsciously.”

“Oh.  That’s what you said while you were sleeptalking.”  He shrugged.

“I guess that makes sense, since… well, I’ve been dreaming about you.  Both of you.”  

She took a deep breath.  He was still waiting patiently, his hand softly stroking her back.  If he didn’t think she was crazy yet, she guessed this wouldn’t change his mind.

“You were always the same person in my dreams.  You’d switch back and forth between Adrien and Chat Noir.  “Chat” would sit in front of me at school, or “Adrien” would help me bring down a scary akuma. Either way, it was always you.

“And then I couldn’t help looking for similarities when I was awake.  I—I started writing down all the evidence I found.  The time “Chat” almost beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike was when I started to actually believe it.  But what finally convinced for sure me was your laugh.”

She laced her fingers together in her lap to keep from fidgeting.  All of it sounded weirder when she said it out loud.  Almost like she’d been stalking him, sticking all of their casual interactions under a microscope.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back against the wall.  “I’m flattered that you went through all that effort, but I don’t get it.  The only reason I didn’t reveal myself sooner was because I was afraid it would put more stress on you, and you were already dealing with so much.  Why didn’t you just ask me who I was?”

She stared into his eyes, watching the pastel lights reflect in them.  He still didn’t know.  All these secrets shared, all these weights lifted, and she still hadn’t revealed the one secret she’d wanted to confess all along.

“Because…” she licked her lips, “because I didn’t want to be wrong.  If you weren’t Adrien—I didn’t want to project my old crush onto you.  You deserve better than that.  Though I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I wasn’t projecting after all, it is you and so I should. Just be able to say this.”

He blinked at her, but then his lips began to part in a slow smile.

“Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve again.  “First Adrien you, then Chat Noir you, then just, well, you.  So—so jot that down.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he squeezed her tight again.

“Consider it jotted.”  He kissed the top of her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  As if she wasn’t going to dissolve at the faintest sign of lip-on-hair contact.  “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with all of you too.  So you can jot that down.”

It shouldn’t have undone her.  Chat Noir had confessed his love to her countless times.  Granted, all of those times had been before their battle with Miracle Queen, after which he’d obviously tried to move on.

But he still loved her.  She wasn’t too late.  

Maybe that relief was what pushed her to grab the collar of his shirt in both hands and press her mouth to his.

Her brain screamed, but her lips slowly figured out what to do, particularly when Adrien got over his shock and kissed her back.

Adrien. Holding her in his arms. Kissing her back.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she heard was the rain or the roaring in her ears or just her internal screaming. But it didn’t matter. For the first time, they were really, finally together, no secrets or fears between them. That truth was just as sweet as the kiss.

He finally pulled back, the front of his shirt damp where he’d been pressed against her. From the wide grin on his face, he didn’t mind.

“Will I get that kind of kiss every time I tell you I love you?”

“I don’t know.”  She tapped her lips. “It might be worth finding out.”

“I love you, my La—”

She cut him off with her mouth on his.

All that time waiting, every failed attempt at confessing her feelings, slipped away like the rain off the slick balcony railing.

When the sky finally cleared, she woke to them tangled together, slumped against that same railing.  She had a crick in her neck, and she’d probably end up with a cold from sleeping in her wet clothes.  But it still felt worth it to look up into Adrien’s blissful face.  Somehow she’d woken up before him—probably because her clothes had been more uncomfortable, since his were dry where his suit had covered them.

“Are you going to give me any juicy secrets in your sleep?”  She asked before kissing the side of his jaw.

His only response was to hum and hug her.

“I guess that’s a no.”  She chuckled.  “No fair.  I shouldn’t be the only one embarrassing myself in this relationship.”

Relationship.  She could’ve exploded into confetti just thinking about it.

“Mmm… love you… m’lady.”

Her breath caught at his slurred voice.

“...Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”

She rested her head back on his chest, and let the dripping remnants of rain from the gutters lull her back to sleep.

[erensnubs]

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕

Oikawa x F! Reader

Chapter 3

Word count: 1.7k

Random posts:

"So… Sho how's school been?" You ask him as you're pinning up Natsu's hair into "fairy braids".

They were essentially little flowers braided into sections of her hair.

Sho looks occupied. You think its his volleyball team.

"School's okay I guess. But volleyball is SOOO COOL! I NEVER KNEW YOU AND DAICHI-SAN, AND ASAHI-SAN AND SUGAWARA-SENPAI WERE CLOSE?!"

You start laughing, "Sugawara senpai what?!?"

Shoyo looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean? That's what he said to call him."

You giggle. God that man is too funny, you think.

"Okay enough about my upcoming volleyball career," Shoyo says while you roll your eyes.

"How's your manager life?"

You shrug your shoulders as you delicately place a flower into Natsu's hair.

"Well, me and the captain are on good terms now. And I think I'm somewhat friends with people on the team," you say thoughtfully.

Yesterday, you and Oikawa studied over the weekend at the coffee shop. It was surprising for you to see the proud captain turn almost submissive when you studied with your project together and when you talked about volleyball. You knew in the back of his mind he still felt bad about the way he mistreated you, but now you were fine.

"Well guess what? Daichi-san and Asahi-san want you to go out with them sometime! They miss you," Shoyo adds.

When you first came to Karasuno, you quickly became friends with Fuki and Riki. You were your own separate group, the artsy bitches who liked editing and drawing random shit, making concept art and scribbling doodles on each other's papers.

Then one day you decided to sit next to the shy boy-man? Man-boy? The boy with the man bun? Whatever. You decided to sit next to him during lunch, because your regular seating area was taken.

Next to the man bun boy was, stoic boy and beauty mark boy.

You didn't know that these boys were going to be the next best friends of your lives.

There you formed a friendship with three of the sweetest men you've ever met in your life.

It started off with talking about how brown is actually a good ass color, then to how the school lunches could have better milk, to groaning about essays together.

To them supporting you with your family, and you with volleyball.

"You're so stupid Riki!! Its the answer B obviously!!" Sugawara says slamming his hand on the lunch table.

You and Daichi start giggling as Riki rolls her eyes.

"What if it's not B, huh Koushi? What if it's actually C?!?" Riki retorts.

You chuckle with the memories of lunch arguments, walking together, and trips to the city with each other.

Later, you helped Daichi find a manager for the volleyball team, Kiyoko Shimizu and later became a friend of yours.

You never wanted to admit it but all of them became a found family, a fantasy that you recreated in your head over and over when you spent time with them, just because of how fucked up yours was.

You loved Suga's laugh and the way he held you while you were boisterously laughing about something stupid, but you hated the way that you knew that it was something friends did. And not what family did.

You loved it when Riki, Fuki and Shimizu came over and did your face with makeup because it made you feel like you were being pampered by aunts and sisters you didn't have.

When Asahi and Daichi constantly checked on your wellbeing, even until now, when you moved schools for Christ's sake. It made your heart clench in pity, because you know this is the closest thing to parents checking up on you.

The sad thing is? Is while you're over here playing found family, the rest of them were just doing something that friends do.

That's why you distanced yourself from all 4 of them when you moved schools.

But Shoyo, he had to remind you about them.

"Yeah.. I.. Uh… I miss them too," you say slowly, braiding the rest of Natsu's hair.

Natsu leans back against you and hands you your phone.

"You don't wanna play minecraft anymore?" You ask.

She shakes your head, "No Kiyoko is calling you!"

She waves the phone in your hands and you feel the vibration of the call.

Oh god, did Kiyoko figure it out?

With shaky fingers you pull the phone from Natsu's grasp and answer the call.

"Hey Kiyoko-"

"I'm outside your house…"

You sputter your words out, "What?!?! Kiyoko?!"

"I'm waiting for you so we can finally go out together."

She pauses.

"Just you and me," her soft voice carried comfort to you.

"Okay… I'll go soon. I'm outside with Sho and Natsu," you say picking yourself up and turning off your phone.

You wave goodbye to them and gesture with your other hand to the phone.

Shoyo gives you a thumbs up and goes back to playing outside with Natsu smiling.

You run back inside and grab your shoes and jacket and throw them on. You flung the door open and see Kiyoko Shimizu in all her grace, beauty and splendor.

"Kiyoko-"

She grabbed your hand and pulled you close to her chest and squeezed you tight.

"Me and Daichi were scared, you know. We all were. Very worried about you," she starts off quietly.

"Tell us, [Name], when something's wrong. It hurts us when you don't."

You sink into Kiyoko's arms and relish the feeling of them.

"I will. I'm sorry for not doing that."

She pulls away and gives you a soft smile, her beauty mark perking up.

"It's fine [Name]... Now get in the car! We're gonna go eat out today!"

"I'll have meal 1 please," you tell the waiter.

"Meal 5 with a side of tofu as well," Kiyoko adds.

The waiter leaves and now it's just you two You were at the ramen shop near Seijoh.

Which just so happened to be the Ramen shop that was close to the convenience store near Seijoh.

The convenience shop that you and Oikawa went to.

You shake your head to get him out of it.

"Uh…You okay?" Kiyoko said questionably.

You wave her away, "Yeah I'm fine. Just remembering something weird."

She leans forward,"Hmm okay. But hey. Heard you became a manager at Seijoh.. You trying to one up me or something?"

She smirks and you scoff.

"Kiyoko please. I learned everything from you. I don't know how I would manage this great team without your prior knowledge I would have never survived," you say.

You sigh and look up, "They're one of the best in the whole prefecture and I'm in charge of them. The pressure is real."

Kiyoko pats your hand affectionately, "I bet. I mean Oikawa and this other dude from another school have been butting heads with each other ever since middle school. It's his last year so Oikawa is probably incredibly stressed."

You raise an eyebrow, "I mean Oikawa has been a little on the edge, but I didn't know it was from some dude since fucking middle school."

"Yeah. Ushi-Waka from Shiratorizawa. He's also from a powerhouse school. The best in the prefecture. They've gone to Nationals, multiple times. Ushi-Waka is in Japan's best under 18," Kiyoko says softly, like she was passing secret information to you.

You not, sipping your water as you let her continue.

"Oikawa has always been beaten by Shiratorizawa and has NEVER made it to nationals. Once! So this year is his last year, he gets 2 chances and then poof!" Kiyoko says.

Her hands are in a circle and they suddenly break.

"Bye bye volleyball career."

You were taken aback.

No, you were stunned.

You always knew Oikawa was determined but God, this puts it on a whole nother level of determination. You wonder how stressed the team was when Oikawa supervised. Or vice versa. You wonder how stressed Oikawa was when he supervised.

Is that why Iwaizumi encouraged you to book practices with college volleyball teams? Probably. The more practice the better, you remember him saying.

Oh and how could you forget the dark circles under his eyes.

You lean back and exhale, "Wow. I feel horrible for not knowing."

Kiyoko sighs, "You should know as a MANAGER, but didn't you have a rough start with him?"

You nod and recount the events that took place as the waiter sets down your food.

"But that was yesterday so I guess we just started our 'working relationship'", you finally say.

Kiyoko lets out a low whistle, "Looks like you got your work cut out for you sweetheart. Our team is in the works."

Her voice drops lower and she grins evilly,

"We'll beat you, [Name], I have hope for this team."

You grin back, "We'll see about that."

The two of you talk back and forth about other things for a while, laughing about the dumb shit Sugawara pulled and the new students.

You pause, "How's Hinata doing? I don't know if you remember him but he's a family friend."

Kiyoko smiles, "He's doing wonderful. Had a rocky start with another 1st year but they're friends now."

"Oh I remember him telling me that. Kageyama?"

"Yes. He was a middle school prodigy. Came from the same school as Oikawa and most of the Seijoh players actually," Kiyoko informs him.

"Huh," you say mentally noting that fact into your mind.

"Anyways, I'm glad we…you know. Got to talk. Hopefully we can go and hang out again with the others," you say as both of you clean up your table and walk out.

"Same. But Karasuno is gonna beat you at the practice game next week," Kiyoko says with a wink.

"Pfft Seijoh will wipe your asses over the gym floor," you say.

You're in your bed, covered in blankets and half asleep from your eventful day. When your eyes finally fluttered to sleep, your phone buzzed.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

You pick up your phone lazily and open up the messages.

Oikawa?

You groan. What is so goddamn urgent that he wants to meet with you so early in the morning?

You push the thoughts and the judgements out of your mind and go to bed early.

So much for a day out to relieve stress.

[Name] and Kiyoko both have a slight obsession with milk tea

IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO DISCLOSE

Kiyoko introduced [Name], to the more traditional Japanese food when she moved here rather than the trendy ones portrayed in the Media

Unbeknownst to [Name], Kiyoko keeps tabs on the Seijoh boys just in case something bad happens.

Prev/next

Taglist: @tanakasimpcorner @zukoslosthishonor ​@saladskittles​

A note from Chef Tina: ty for sticking with me everyone for this fic! I feel like my efforts on writing this are paid off! Pls like, reblog or comment! It would help a lot! 

[eunsthings]

Museums

Part 2 l Again?

Genre: fluff🥰, slow burn i guess

(Reader is a veterinary student on more or less her final year of vet school who has a part time job in editing and is kinda smol and socially awkward)

Pairing: Tsukishima x fem!reader (post timeskip)

Word count: 2.2k

Here’s Part 1  II Series masterlist II Part 3

You have been offered a big project and now the odds are really testing you... 

[friend] = a friend’s name

The content of the sent email—along with other details—stated that if you were willing, to email them back and go to the Sendai City Museum whenever you were free this week. Sitting on your bottom bunk-bed, checking your schedule, you see that you were available on the 7th of September; a Friday afternoon. You email them and confirm that you were going.

A few days had passed and it was now Friday. You were having lunch with [friend]—a close friend of yours—in a café outside your campus. After your lunch, you were going to head to the museum.

“You know, you should have just texted me.”

“What?” [friend] stops and looks up at you, pausing from eating, an innocent expression plastered on her face.

“You where the reason my phone almost got destroyed,” you deadpanned.

Your friend stares with a blank face… then bursts out laughing. “I’m so sorry—” she says, almost choking on food from laughing, “I—hahaha!” still snickering trying to speak in between gulps of air, “Oh, man. I really am sorry; it’s just that… what kind of luck do you have? A nosebleed because of a phone call?” It went on like this for some time.

“Oh by the way, are you going on the school trip?” your friend asks.

“When was that again?” you face her.

“Uhhhhh, the last week of September I think…”

“Oh, yeah, right. I don’t really know… going on a trip with people I barely know for a whole week is kind of draining,”you softly replied; pondering.

“But like—oh no! It’s almost time for your meet-up,” [friend] tells you; cutting her sentence short, both of you got lost in the euphoria of chatting with one another.

“Oh yeah, no, I have to go, I’m so sorry. Byeee~” you reply in a jumble standing up and bringing your bag with you.

“Wait,” your friend stands up with you, “I’m going with you,” She left no space for refusal as she picks up the scarf you almost left and hands it to you.

“Wow, ok,” you thought to yourself as you see the museum building in front of you. It was a very nice modern-looking building.

 With your friend beside you, you enter its doors.

Inside, it had many things on display–mostly about the history of Sendai and samurais as well as a certain “Date” family. Both of you try looking for the office and almost ended up lost before you were able to look for a person to ask; it was weirdly devoid of people.

Reaching the office, an assistant, you had guessed, told you to make yourself comfortable while waiting. You did as you were told. Both you and [friend] were seated in a big open space with displays all around. This area was frequently passed by tourists, you can tell by the layout of the space.

Your friend was looking at displays around the huge space and you were scrolling through your phone when a man appeared around a corner.

You barely glance up when you look back down to your phone. “Wait a second,” you look back up again, bewilderment rising. He was holding a pen and notebook in his hands, “Oh no,” by now, memories of your “faceplant incident” had surfaced. You were silently staring as he passed–the blond man who handed you a handkerchief. “What in the world!? Was he here to take notes for research or something?” he turned to the side almost disappearing around another corner when you made eye contact.

He momentarily paused, fixing his glasses ; probably confused—“He had glasses on… did he have glasses last time?”—when another voice sounded from the end of the hall he was in. Someone probably called him. He then broke eye contact and vanished behind a wall.

You were still dumbfounded, staring at the wall in front of you trying to process what just happened. “What are the odds of that huh?” you had chuckled at yourself. “Who was that?” your friend had come down to sit beside you.

“Ugh. Remember when I told you about how my phone almost broke?”

“Yeah, you faceplanted on the sidewalk.”

“That guy was there to witness it and kinda helped me,” [friend] burst out laughing again after your statement.

“What are the odds of that happening!” she now had tears in her eyes from laughing, “Is it embarrassing? HAHAHA. It’s ok… it’s ok,” by now she was smacking her leg and doubling over.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, stop laughing at me~” you were shaking her trying to make her stop. You can’t handle any more shame.

“Ok, ok. But he was just probably here for his studies you know, so that’s over now, at least you didn’t have to talk to him.”

“Yeah, ‘at least.’”

The assistant had come back for you, telling you to follow them to the office. Your friend had only offered a thumbs-up as you left her in the hall.

You enter what you guess to be an office. A middle-aged man sat behind a desk in the room and gestured for you to take a seat; a chair in front of his table. He introduced himself as a Mister Yasuhiro, the director for the museum. He discussed the reason for calling you; they’d have a big charity event to be held in the museum on the first week of October; so that leaves about a month of preparation time. They needed animators to make the motion picture to be played in a loop all around the exhibits---for overall effect. He smiles warmly at you.

“Y/N, I know you’re a very talented artist,” he stated, “We’d really like to have you on-board for this project although I know you have school. You have top marks so I don’t think that it will be a problem considering you’ve been doing this for a long time now,” he was right, you never really had a problem in school, just times when you have off weeks or think you failed but still keep pulling though up top, “Although of course you’ll have one other animator with you to help share the load,” Yasuhiro continues.

You were thinking and something seems off to you, “Um—Sir, I’m really thankful for the opportunity you’ve given me but… why me? There are better professional animators out there… which, compared to me—” he cuts you off, “You see, we are also tasked to showcase the talents of young individuals and why not apply that to everything else?” You couldn’t reply anything else but a soft “oh”.

“We’d love to have you but I’d really have to ask if you’d be okay taking on this project on short notice,” Yasuhiro makes you consider the offer. “If you’re really fine having me help, then I’d be very much more than willing to,” a soft sort of calm determination escapes you—this was a very big chance after all. The middle-aged man lit up in joy and thanked you.

 He seemed friendlier in contrast to others with the same position as he; much more now when he was clapping softly. You had noticed he was a cheerful man.

After you accepted their job, he discusses to you about the amount they’ll be paying you; and man were you happy you took the offer. Yasuhiro then proceeded to talk about what you’ll be doing in a general sense, “Oh and don’t worry about the content, you’ll have someone as a partner from the museum to help you with it.”

“That would really be great! Thank you!” You replied.

The director then proceeded to call his assistant, “Could you bring him in now?” Your brain glitches a bit, “him”? "A boy!? Nah, it’s just probably someone he’s got business with,” a short internal monologue played in your head.

You hear the door squeak open behind you and then come to a close. You were still facing the director, “This fellow will be helping you with the content of your animation, he’s currently an intern here,” you slowly turn around trying to face the alleged intern hoping to see a new face. Instead, you were met with a tall, blond and uninterested-faced person; glasses in front of his golden-brown irises. “Your partner for the project, Tsukishima Kei,” Yasuhiro announces from his desk.

Looking down for the first time since he entered, the guy named “Tsukishima” only blinked in response to what seems to be his own  shock and confusion.

Unable to meet his gaze, you turn back around to face the director just gawking at him with slightly squinted eyes and a stupid expression displayed; unable to form words. “What are the odds?”

Mister Yasuhiro—having been facing you—asked, “Is something the matter?” he trailed off awkwardly.

“No,” you replied in unison.

 “Oh?” the director was now joined in both your confusion.

 “It’s fine, we just happened to bump into each other a while back. We’re just surprised,” Kei explained in his drawly voice as if nothing happened.

 “Oh! Well that’s good then. You’re already acquainted so that’s step one done,” the director clapped his hands together in joy. “So that’s that. Kei will be showing you around the museum later. He’ll coordinate your schedules and disclose to you everything else that I missed,” the director smirked and sat up from his chair, “You can meet with the other duo the next time you come here. Good luck to you both.”

 You found yourself in a hall outside of the office. A tall man beside you. Silence heavy in the air.

“So…” the beanpole spoke, “What’s your name?” both of you facing the same end of the hallway.

“I—uh. L/N F/N. Nice to meet you,” a straightforward reply, still refusing to look at each other.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too… for the third time.” The awkwardness was killing you.

“Yeahhh—about the first time… I never got to thank you for helping me…” you soften to a whisper, “and your handkerchief is ruined—I’ll just replace it.”

“Tch. There’s no need for that,” he looks at the bunch of paper in his hands, “Anyway~” he starts walking, “I have to show you around the museum.”

 You follow behind him and later he stops abruptly. You are now in the big hall you were waiting in earlier. He hands you a sheet of paper, “Here’s the initial schedule. We’ll alter that to accommodate your own next time. Hold on to it for now,” He then looks around the room, “Weren’t you accompanied by someone else?” Realization dawns on you, yes, you were accompanied by F/N. Where is she now? You check your phone.

“Ah. She had forgotten to submit a term paper,” Tsukishima’s only response was a shrug and a slight pout, “Well then, let’s proceed.”

Touring around the city museum took a long while, your amazingly weak ankles decided to act up but in the end, you finished going around the displays in the building. He showed you where they were planning to put the main event as well as where all the side gimmicks would be. Accounting it all, it would kind of be an immersive event wherein wherever you go in the museum, you’d be greeted by animations and displays. 

Both of you finished your tour at the main entrance balcony outside; it was already late in the afternoon. He paused beside you and turned to face you. You look to your side and see him fumbling around his pockets.

“Uh— w-what are you doing?” you asked meekly.

He raised his head to the ceiling and let out an exasperated sigh, “I was supposed to give you your museum pass. But I forgot that the ones meant for you and the other guy haven’t been modified yet—don’t ask.”

“Well that’s fine I guess, I can always just ask permission.”

“No, that makes a lot of hassle for everyone,” he interjects too quickly for your liking, but then he follows softly, “plus not everyone is always present here to let you in… that and the varying schedules clash.”

You felt thankful for his kinder follow-up, “Oh. So what now?”

“About the schedule, I think we need to exchange contacts.” And so you both did.

You gave him your phone number as well as your messenger account (in case). He then entered his phone number in your phone.

“Huh, I guess your phone’s okay now,” he handed it back.

“Really!? He had to bring it up,” you half-scream internally.

“And about the pass…” he placed everything he was holding in one hand and removed the ID dangling from his neck, “here,” he was holding it out to you.

You held your hands up, “But that- that’s yours—”he didn’t let you finish your sentence, “I can’t have you coming and going without a pass, so here, I won’t always be here to babysit you” he slipped it on your head, “Your pass later on will look somewhat like that. Don’t worry, I have an extra one at home, just don’t lose that. We’ll trade later.” Your face began to heat up, “What the heck!!”

"Until next time then Y/N."

He walked back to the doors but before he entered, he held the handle and looked back at you, “Expect me to contact you sometime between tomorrow and the next day, try not to ignore it,” with that, he goes inside leaving you in front of the stairs in the late afternoon glow. 

Part 1 II Series masterlist II Part 3

Notes:

We use messenger because why not... (It’s actually because in my country we use messenger a lot and so yeah...)

I wish you enjoyed (0.0)

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 7

lmfao I love how I posted an update 2 days ago like “this fic will have sporadic posts! idk when they’re coming!” and then I spent the last two days writing this. when that insomnia inspiration hits ya gotta just go with it!

this chapter went in a completely different direction than I had planned on soooo yeah...honestly not sure where this is gonna end up! the characters from my OC novel that I’m loosely basing this story around didn’t have a connection before they ran into each other so when Julie gave me this I almost cut it because I genuinely wasn’t sure where it was going. I think I’ve almost figured it out and I’m pretty sure I know how this will end. and now we all get to laugh at me together because it’s definitely gonna be more than 3-4 chapters. it might even be more than 6. Luke’s POV will have roughly the same amount of chapters I think, possibly longer because boy oh boy does he have A LOT to say (most of it about Julie). fair warning: this one has an awkward cut off because of the way I need to set up the next chapter. sorry about that.

and now something I probably should be embarrassed to admit: I don’t remember writing the part where I managed to sneak an “I’ve Got The Music” reference in so now we know for sure this show has infiltrated my brain. it’s fine, I’m fine, at least I WILL BE WHEN WE GET A S2!!!! KENNY!!!! SAVE ME HERE!!! MAKE MY UNHINGED OBSESSIONS WORTH IT!!!!!

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

It was no small miracle that Julie made it through the afternoon without Ray asking for details about her supposed ‘plan’ to play with the Sunset Curve boys. She didn’t think she would have been able to pull off spinning a story quite as well as Luke had earlier. She had expected at least a small amount of interrogating about when she had started playing again, but apparently the news that she was playing at all, let alone with other people in front of an audience, was enough for Ray to ignore all of the other plot holes involved in this scheme. He seemed to have almost forgotten the meeting with Principal Lessa entirely, humming on the drive home, kissing her forehead and turning her loose to freak out alone in her room while he sat down to work on his computer in the dining room. Julie took full advantage of the time alone to restlessly pace her room and send Flynn a 911 text. Her bestie’s contact photo lit up the phone screen 30 seconds later.

“Okay, I’m hiding in the basement girl’s bathroom, so you’ve got exactly 5 minutes before I get too grossed out to stay here.”

Julie’s chest loosened at the sound of Flynn’s comforting voice. There wasn’t anyone else in the world that loved her the way Flynn did. It was reassuring and made it easy for Julie to let loose.

“Lessa told Dad about the music program and then You-Know-Who ambushed us outside of her office and basically forced me to agree to perform with them.”

“Voldemort was at Los Feliz?!”

Flynn’s gasp was overflowing with sarcasm.

“Flynn!” Julie whined. “Be serious! Luke showed up out of nowhere again! And he did the thing again! The charming his way into getting what he wants thing! And now I have to play with his freaking band! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

There was silence for a moment. When Flynn spoke again her voice was softer, more serious.

“You don’t have to play with them, Jules. You can tell them no, and they’ll have no choice but to respect that. The only person who can make you do anything is you. But...I kinda think you might want to play with them.”

“What?! No!”

Julie’s exclamation was a second late. Flynn didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Julie sighed.

“Okay fine. There’s something about Luke that makes me want to play again. Are you happy? He gave mom’s song back to me when I thought it was lost forever. He’s the only person who’s heard me perform it, and he...no one else has ever made me feel that good about my music before.”

Julie thanked her lucky stars Flynn wasn’t in the room to see her blush. There was a long moment of contemplative silence on the other end of the line. When she spoke again, there was that extra note of take-no-shit in Flynn’s voice that made Julie sit up and really listen.

“I think you should give it a chance. Who knows, maybe this is some sort of sign from your mom. You said it was a miracle he would have even found that song in the first place. You said it felt like she was there with you when you were playing. Maybe she made sure it would find its way back to you when you were ready for it.”

Julie didn’t say anything, just worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest. It had felt a little too perfect to be just a coincidence. The way Luke kept appearing in her life at the exact moments she needed him someone or something to help her keep moving forward. Flynn sighed.

“Look, I’m not saying it is your mom. But I’m not saying there’s not some kind of greater power out there that keeps pushing the two of you together. I think you should give it a chance. If nothing else, you can get back in the music program and we can bring Double Trouble to life in time for our Junior Showcase!”

Julie couldn’t help laughing. Her eyes felt misty, love for her best friend welling up in her heart.

“I never agreed to that name you know. But thanks, Flynn. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now. I gotta get the fuck out of this grimy ass bathroom. Love you, bye!”

Flynn waited for her to return the sentiment before hanging up.  Julie flopped back on her bed, letting her breath out in a loud whoosh as she hit the comforter. A glance at her phone told her she only had a couple hours until Luke and the other boys would be out of school and on their way to her house. She tried her best to ignore the way that thought made her stomach roll with a type of nervousness she would rather not name. It was easier to blame it on nerves over playing with new people rather than nerves over playing with Luke. Except...now that she actually thought about it, she had played with Luke before. Her head spun, eyes fluttering shut as she remembered the one music class she had shared with Luke last year.

She had only been a freshman, stuck in a lowly Introduction to Composition class. It was supposed to be for new songwriters. Julie had a little more experience than the rest of the class, after all she’d been kind of composing with her mom for a few years now, so when it had been time to write a duet for their final big project she had gotten paired up with the classmate whose skill level most matched hers. It was supposed to be a way for them to challenge each other and grow as writers instead of one person doing most of the work. Julie had been paired with Luke.

He’d been a grumbly sophomore, held back for failing his last semester of Intro to Comp the year before. He had been stuck there only for the second semester, forced to double up between their class and his second year Composition class. Julie hadn’t been all that excited about partnering with him. He hadn’t really seemed to care about the class at all, and even though Julie also sometimes felt like it was holding her back a little bit, she never once voiced that thought. It was a privileged mindset, and Julie was well aware that she had an advantage over her classmates since her mother was a professional songwriter. Luke, on the other hand, had made it well known that he felt like he was wasting his time just waiting to get through the semester so he could move up to the Advanced Composition class that he felt he truly belonged in. Julie could usually do no more than roll her eyes in those moments.

It was true that Luke was talented. His guitar playing was impressive, his lyrics were heartfelt and sometimes even downright poetic. Julie just didn’t think anyone deserved specific things in life because they happened to be naturally talented at something. Their songwriting experience had been...interesting to say the least. And short. It had ended abruptly when Julie’s mother had died 5 days later. In the end, they’d only worked together for two 40-minute class periods before she had been lost in the fog of grief that consumed her in the weeks following the loss of her mom.

Julie shot up in bed, eyes wide. She didn’t even fully remember what had happened with the half-finished song they had been working on. Errant notes echoed in her head, like a song that had only existed in dreams until now. She absently wondered if Luke had held onto that as well. It was no wonder she had kept that particular memory suppressed all this time. That time in her life had been particularly painful. Luke had been gentle with her though. Almost all traces of his typical arrogance gone in the two short class periods they’d had to work together. He had kept things light, steering their songwriting in the direction of a rock ballad more than a true duet. Julie hadn’t minded. She had been floating through classes by then anyway, on edge every second she was away from her mom’s bedside. It had been easier to work on something that didn’t have as many sappy emotions attached to it.

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. No wonder Luke had been so sweet with her. He must have had a front row seat to her breakdown throughout the last year. She hadn’t even realized it. Had never before seen the way he watched her from a distance, checked in on her during class. She should have. Now that she was thinking about it, trying to identify every instance, she could name a million. How had she missed it for so long? How had he gone so long without saying anything? The Luke she remembered was terrible at keeping his mouth shut. He had always been ready to speak his mind, never afraid to start a discourse. It didn’t track that he had been holding himself back. Unless...it was more about her musical ability than anything else. She remembered now; Luke had been thrilled to partner with her for the duet. He had made some remark about how her sound was the perfect complement to his. Maybe he only cared about the ways they would mesh as songwriters. She could only hope that’s what his words had meant.

She felt more secure in her footing as a musician when it came to dealing with Luke than she ever had as a simple teenaged girl. If it was just about the music she could compartmentalize better, keep herself from getting too emotionally invested. Music had always been a safe zone, neutral. She breathed in and out deeply, remembering the technique Dr. Turner had taught her to slow her breathing and recenter her mind. She could do this. It was just about the music. They would play a song together, Julie would get back into the music program, and life would move forward much in the way it had before. Except Julie would actually participate in class this time. She had the music back in her soul, she wasn’t ever going to let it go again. On her next exhale, she heard the doorbell ring. Showtime. Julie zipped down the stairs, ripping open the door before her dad had a chance to get more than three feet away from his computer. Luke, Alex and Reggie all stumbled back a step as she tumbled outside, pulling the front door shut behind her. The three teenaged boys shared a look.

“Studio. Now.”

Julie raced down the path to her mom’s studio before they could react, not even waiting to see if they followed her. If they were smart, if they truly wanted to do this, they would. She hauled the garage doors open, only turning around when she had the piano at her back. The wood felt warm and solid, almost like she had her mom as a support behind her instead of an instrument. The boys appeared seconds later, Luke leading the way. He stopped a couple feet inside of the studio, studying her with wide open earnest eyes. She let out a deep breath. Reggie spoke up before she could get a word out.

“Woah, Julie, this studio is so cool! It’s like a tiny home! A musical tiny home in a botanical garden!!”

His green eyes were wide, expression awed as he spun to take in the space that Julie and her mom had spent countless hours turning into theirs.

“How did you get chairs on the ceiling?! Are you, like, a witch and a siren?!! Man, you and your mom must have made some serious magic in here.”

Luke’s arm shot out faster than lightening to backhand Reggie’s bicep. Reggie cringed away, a soft owww! just barely audible over the loud sigh Alex let out as he buried his face in his hands. Reggie shrugged, looking back and forth between his bandmates before giving Julie a confused yet apologetic glance. What had he said wrong this time? The giggle that bubbled out of her was as unexpected as it was welcomed. Warmth blazed in her heart, memories of the time she had spent in here with her mom washing over her with a kind of hazy bliss she hadn’t ever experienced before. She gazed at Reggie, letting that same feeling of motherly love from the night before fill her up. It was all she could do not to react to Luke’s jaw dropping when she gave Reggie a soft smile.

“We did. We made so much magic in here.”

The words were gentle and filled with a kind of genuine love that overshadowed all other feelings of awkward nervousness. Alex and Luke relaxed instantly, Reggie’s face losing all traces of uncertainty as he beamed at her with a smile so large it almost looked painful. Julie couldn’t help but let herself return it, just a little bit. The silence that settled between them was more comfortable, the tense moment from earlier broken. Julie studied the boys in front of her. She hadn’t ever thought of them as friends per se. They knew each other, would say hi if they encountered one another outside the walls of the high school, but at the same time, they didn’t actually know each other. Julie’s little run in with Luke the night before had made that painfully obvious. She wasn’t really sure what to make of them.

“Are you guys actually serious about this whole Showcase scheme? Did Luke even tell you about his dumb plan?”

“Hey! That plan is genius. Even your dad agreed. He seems pretty cool.”

Julie couldn’t help the fond way she rolled her eyes. Alex was quick to reassure her that they did, in fact, know about the plan.

“Not that I actually think it’s a particularly well thought out plan.” He stated with a lingering glare at Luke’s back.

The planner in question did his best to ignore the skeptical look on Julie’s face.

“Julie, you really don’t deserve to be out of the music program.” Reggie’s voice was soft and sincere. “You have the voice of an angel. If we can help convinced Ms. Harrison and Principal Lessa to give you your spot back it will be so worth it. And even if we don’t, it’ll be worth the looks on their faces when we rock the pants off that crowd!”

Julie laughed in spite of herself, slightly reassured even as she chewed nervously on her lip. Luke took a few bouncy steps forward, pulling her attention to him completely. His eyes locked on hers and she was sure she was drowning, throat tightening at the look he was giving her.

“You got this. I wouldn’t have come up with this idea if I didn’t believe it 100%.”

Honestly, that was what scared her the most about it.

“We don’t even have anything prepared.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, unsteady and wavering. Luke took a few more steps towards her, Reggie and Alex ghosting along silently a few feet behind him. Julie didn’t even notice, so laser focused on the brunette boy in the cut-up tank top in front of her. She watched his muscles flex as he reached into his back pocket, flicking out a piece of folded up paper in a move scarily reminiscent of when he had given her mom’s song back to her. He bit his lip, head ducking a little to be closer to hers as he unfolded the worn sheets of scrappy notebook paper. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, focusing on the messy handwriting in front of her.

“I thought you would say that.”

The smile on his face was so soft and sweet it should have been illegal.

“It’s called ‘Bright’. It’s a Sunset Curve song that we never performed because it’s missing something. Look,” his bare shoulder brushed hers as he shifted to point at the notes, warmth seeping through the thin material of her t-shirt, “it’s perfect for your range. I was thinking, if we add a little bit of piano here and here,” fire blazed a path up her arm as his fingers traced along the opening notes and chorus, forearm flexing against her own, bare skin brushing in teasing licks, “it’ll be perfect.”

Julie forced herself to focus on what he was saying, eyes roving across the paper. She hummed a little under her breath, hearing what he described in her head. His eyes lit up when he saw her get it, feet springing up and down as he dipped even closer towards her and started to sing.

We will rise, through the night

You and I

We will fight to shine together

Bright forever

His voice vibrated in her chest, the sound filling her with an emotion she couldn’t fully identify. Alex and Reggie bobbed along behind him, Reggie’s fingers plucking out the baseline on an invisible guitar while Alex nodded along to an unseen beat. Julie could envision the way the song would sound with a complete band, could practically see herself fitting seamlessly into the mix with her piano and vocals. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips as she joined in, reading the lyrics off of the page.

And rise through the night,

You and I

We will fight to shine together

“Go up high.”

Luke cut in, fingers twirling towards the ceiling. Julie automatically made the adjustment in notes to harmonize her voice with his for the last line, holding the final syllable for a beat longer than him.

Bright forever

“Yes!”

Luke’s arm pumped up and down, bicep flexing and distracting Julie momentarily. She dropped her head shyly, trying to hide her blush. When her cheeks cooled a moment later she looked back up at the boy in front of her. His eyes were glowing, smile stretched a mile wide as he stared at her. Unconditional belief in her was practically oozing from his pores. She felt her face soften as their eyes locked, giving him her own sweet smile that was meant just for the two of them. She thanked him with a gentle murmur, heart melting as he simply bit his lower lip and nodded.

A throat cleared in the background, and Julie was snapped out of their private bubble by the sound. Her entire face felt engulfed in flames as she looked over Luke’s shoulder to see Alex and Reggie still standing a few paces behind him. Reggie’s face was bright, his sunshine temperament back in full force. Alex was a little more guarded, but he was giving her an encouraging smile and there was cautious optimism swimming in his sage green eyes as he fiddled with one of his drumsticks. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in one smooth exhale. The same sort of peacefulness from the night before settled over her.

“Okay. Okay, so we’re doing this.”

Luke’s whoop was so loud both her and Alex jumped. Reggie raced forward with a cheer to sling one arm around Luke’s shoulders and the other around Julie’s, pulling them so close to his chest that their noses nearly touched. Julie saw the blush staining Luke’s cheeks and felt her own warm to match. Alex coughed again.

“Reg, c’mon. Let it settle for just a sec before you go all human octopus on the poor girl.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, Jules!!”

Reggie released both of them quickly. Julie flicked her gaze between the three boys, enjoying the glimpses at their band dynamic. Alex’s words had sounded a bit exasperated, but there was a fondness running through them as well. He gave a half-hearted roll of his eyes at Reggie’s abrupt movements and reached his own long arm out to pull the dark-haired boy close.

“Help me unload the van? I still don’t trust our little Lukey boy with my kit.”

“Hey! That was one time!”

Luke sounded downright offended. The dark look Alex leveled at him in response had Julie choking back a laugh with a badly disguised cough. Clearly once of whatever he did was enough. Luke pouted, arms flexing as they crossed over his chest.

“You put your foot through my bass drum, and you think that isn’t reason enough not to trust you with it ever again?”

Luke sputtered, eyes flicking to Julie and back to Alex as his ears reddened.

“I told you I didn’t see it!”

“It’s the biggest part of the kit, dumbass. Literally the hardest thing to miss.”

Alex’s voice was as unimpressed as it was dismissive. Luke threw his hands in the air as the other boys headed out of the studio, laughing amongst themselves. It was clear this was a regular argument between the two, no heat or anger left in it, only a loving sort of tease. Like the way Carlos still brought up that time she accidentally gave him a concussion double-bouncing him off of their neighbor’s trampoline when he wanted something from her. Or the way her Tía would still laugh as she remembered the time her mom had almost gotten them both arrested for a bar fight on her 21st birthday, Ray affectionately filling in the parts that she tried to leave out. Warmth bloomed in her chest. This wasn’t just a band, wasn’t just a ragtag trio of friends. These guys were brothers. This was a family. And they were letting her into that intimate circle.

The thought was both humbling and nerve-wracking. This Showcase was a big deal. It wasn’t just some school assignment. This could impact their future as a band career-wise. They were all trusting her with this, fully believing in her, or at least, fully believing in Luke’s faith in her abilities. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever believed in her like that. Not anyone that hadn’t known her since she was in diapers. Her head swam, knees feeling a bit weak. She stumbled her way over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a barely audible huff. Luke was in front of her instantly, crouched down so they were face to face. His hands twitched in his lap, but he didn’t reach for her.

“Hey. Julie. Breathe.”

She sucked in a breath, zeroing in on nothing more than his face. After a few seconds she realized he was breathing in and out slowly, just loud enough for her to hear over the jumble of thoughts running amok in her brain. She matched her own inhales and exhales to his, the room slowly coming back into focus as her head cleared. He gave her one of those soft smiles she was starting to think of as hers.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. But I wouldn’t have stopped you in school if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it. I heard you last night. I listened to you for years before last night.”

His chin dropped in embarrassment for just a second before he pulled his gaze back up to hers. Julie felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. Not for the first time she wished she knew how long this version of Luke had been lurking under the surface. It took everything in her not to let herself step off that ledge and fall.

“Music is in your soul. It’s a part of you. Not everyone is like that, but you are. Your life without music...”

He tapered off like the thought was physically painful to him, eyebrows furrowing in a slight wince.

“Living without music would be like living in a world without stars: dark and empty and uninspired. You deserve galaxies, Julie. You deserve the chance to shine exactly like the star you are, and the world deserves the chance to hear you. Please, just...have a little faith?”

She saw it then. As he gazed at her with those bottomless ocean eyes, with that special smile on his lips and sincerity bleeding through every word, she knew. Luke was like her. Luke got it. In a way that no one else except her mom ever had. That’s what this was. They were kindred spirits, two sides of the same coin. And that feeling? The wind rushing through her hair and stealing her breath away while her limbs all turned to jelly feeling? That was definitely her falling head over heels off of the cliff and into Luke Patterson completely.

“Okay.”

She breathed out, and his answering smile set off the butterflies she thought had finally left her stomach. He stood up and held a hand out to her, easily pulling her to her feet in one smooth movement.

“You know,” his smile turned rueful, “eventually you’re gonna have to answer one of my questions with something other than ‘okay’. That’s a pretty passive word, and I’m not really a passive type of person. I wanna start hearing some ‘hell yeah’s and ‘awesome’s pretty soon.”

Julie rolled her eyes, moving away from Luke to set up her keyboard. He gave her a bouncy little shrug of his shoulders, and she let the levity of his joke wash over her, releasing the last bit of nerves. She could do this. Luke believed in her. Her mom believed in her. Hell, Alex and Reggie believed in her and she barely even knew them. She could do this, just like her mom had said.

Noise from the other boys making their way up the driveway had her rushing to pull both doors to the studio open so they could haul in Alex’s drum kit. The three of them left together to grab amps and guitars, Julie finishing the rest of the set up in the garage. Before she had time to overthink things or freak out again, they were all settled into their spots and Alex was counting down for their first run through. Fingers against the keys, Julie breathed out, opened her mouth, and began to play.

[whootwhoot]

»»—— 𝘛𝘛𝘛𝘊 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 2: "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘴" ——««

Akaashi Keiji x Fem! Reader

author’s notes: holy shit im so sorry for the not posting in such a long time ;-; i had stuff i needed to clean up + i was lazy- anyways this is the second chapter for my first long fic “Third Times The Charm” sorry for the delay ^^ compared to the previous one this one involves more conversations since im not good at writing movements lmAO enjoy uwu

☕ synopsis: Iwaizumi Y/n, a student who goes to Aoba Johsai as well as the second year manager for the school’s male volleyball team. What happens when she sets eyes on the cute setter from Fukurodani?

[ CHAPTER 2 - First texts ] 

“Oh shit.” 

Your phone screen fades to black as you sit there biting your lip. Baffled by how stupid you were, you slam your face into the pillow next to you.

“You had one chance, one chance and you did what? You forgot about it, your stupid brain forgot about it. Are you kidding me?”

You let out a loud groan as you sit back up, the bed sheet wrinkles while you release that breath of air you’ve been holding. Your hands wandered around your phone’s keyboard, too nervous to reply but too anxious not to. 

Akaashi seems like a genuine guy, he doesn’t show off or boast about himself. He’s just always there, the way he smiles when he successfully makes a perfect set, the way his delicate hands toss the ball, his eyes only focusing on you…

“Y/n! Get a grip! What are you even thinking?!” a couple more groans and turns on your bed and you are more awake than before. 

Honestly you never expected a reply from him at all. Sure, the idea of that crossed your mind, maybe more than several times but the thought of it actually happening? There’s no way.  

“It’s like my brain short circuited somehow.” you whisper while sitting up, leaning against the headboard of your mattress. 

Maybe the impression of you from your previous lover affected you more than you want to admit. “You’re annoying.” “Undeserving of love.” “No one can even stand a clingy person like you.” 

Your vision turns blurry as you feel cold tears gently running down your face. You wipe them away, hoping to erase the emotions bubbling up inside of you away too. 

The insecurities you try to push away seem to have formed a wall, a never ending wall that just stacks higher and higher. Just when you thought you have gotten over it, the tiniest shard of the most fragile moment can make you fall back down again.

The creaking sound of your room door makes you jump as your brother peeks his head inside your room. 

“Haji? It’s 2am you, you should be sleeping!” 

“You didn’t close the lights in your room so I thought I’d check up on you.”

“Your eyes look reddish, are you okay?” 

You lift your shoulders in a shrug, Hajime comes into your room and stands right in front of you and folds his arms. 

“Is this the older brother's lecturing time?” you ask while raising your eyebrow

“And for the record, I’m fine. You don’t have to-”

“I think I do.” Hajime stares at you intensely 

“You should've gotten over that jerk ages ago.”

“I know, I know” you release your breath and repeat the sentence he once told you  “The first love cuts the deepest, but not every cut leaves a scar.” 

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know but just… what makes you think I deserve love?”

“Iwaizumi Y/n, you are my sister. No one knows you better than I-”

“DOUBT! THERE’S NO WA-.”

“SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH.”

You laugh in amusement while Hajime licks his lips as his mouth forms a small smile. 

“Ok but the point is, you’ll find someone who’ll love you as much as you love them eventually. No one in the world is undeserving of love.”

You rest your chin on your palm while eyeing and slyly grinning towards your brother.

“Eww since when have you learned to be so cheesy?” 

“It’s called quality love advice, you should try them sometime.”

“YOU DUMBASS”

He ducks just in time to avoid the pillow you flung at him. 

“Stop yelling or the neighbours are going to hear you!”

He continues to laugh while rushing to the door. He stands at your door and gestures his hand at the light switch.

You grab your blanket and nod your head while laying down, the bed softly creaking causing him to chuckle. Hajime closes the lights and leaves your room quietly.

His warm words hang around  in the cold room as you slowly drift off to sleep. 

“Thanks Haiji-nisan.” 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Hello, it’s me  😓

The girl who was randomly texting you last night 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

No reply

You furiously type on your phone while staring at the screen intensely in hopes that he sees your messages. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I forgot about that photo 😓 😓 , I'm sorry if it seemed weird or uh rude

And uh i just hope that maybe we can get to know each other

Unknown:

Okay.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

Okaayyy he replied,  so that’s a good sign… right? 

Biting your lips, you place your thumb on the phone to prevent the screen from fading and eventually closing. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Soooooooo I’m Iwaizumi Y/n  😇 😇

Unknown:

Akaashi Keiji.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“God damn it, he’s such a conversation killer.” you mumble under your breath 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I’m from Aoba Johsai!! 

Akaashi: 

You’re the spikers younger sister? Iwaizumi?

Y/n:

Well duh  😂

Where are you from? 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You ran your hand through your hair, cringing at how hard you're trying. 

Maybe you could just tell him, you know like “Hey hot stuff, I think you attracted me with your stunning good looks so I want to date you.” you mock while pointing finger guns at the mirror. 

Just then, the familiar ringtone of your phone notification rings and you scramble to see who it was. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Heyyyyy, you got the text yet? 

Y/n:

Yeah

El is best girl:

Daaaaaaamn I take it you're disappointed that it wasn't him who appeared on your notification?  😔 😔

Y/n:

NO NO NO OF COURSE NOT 

I love texting you  😘

El is best girl:

Awhh save it lmAO 

Did you text him back?

Y/n:

😤 He’s not giving anything to work with here 

El is best girl: 

Pshhh I mean just ask him how his day was or like 

At least try to keep the conversation going 

Y/n:

I'M TRYING

LIKE  😩

REALLY HARD HERE

El is best girl:

lmAoOOOO

Y/n:

HOLD UP HE JUST TEXTED ME 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You hurriedly press into your chat with Akaashi

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Akaashi:

I’m from Fukurodani.

Y/n:

Isn’t that just a few minutes away from my school 😮 ?

Akaashi:

I think so.

Y/n:

Cool 

Anyways

Um how was your day?

“Akaashi is typing”

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“I can’t decide if he’s typing really slow or he’s sending a long text…” You decide to place your phone down and doodle on your papers while waiting for his reply. 

----

“Bokuto-san, she asked me how my day went.”

“Don’t reply to her anymore! Let her wait for you to text back, it builds a sense of mystery.” 

Bokuto suggests while winking. 

“Bokuto-san it’s not really nice to leave people on read.”

“Akaashi, I’m the ladies man, listen to me and your love life this time wouldn’t end like the last two.”

Akaashi can’t help but grin at his confident “wingman”, it’s no secret his past relationships were… well not that good, but to ask for Bokuto for help? 

“But-”

“Hey you were the one who asked for help when a girl texted you.” “Plus, didn’t you find her cute too? The short girl manager watched our match at camp.”

“What?”

“You were staring when she wasn’t looking, and after the first time you saw her from the bus you were trying to get to know which school bus it was.”

Akaashi’s jaw almost drops at his friend's observant nature that he didn’t know existed, apparently when it comes to love Bokuto isn’t as… well, dumb, as he seems. He tries to form words to deny Bokuto’s accusation but he can’t seem to find a reason to do so. 

“Also just play hard to get, girls love a challenge.”

“...” “Maybe I’ll wait a little longer before I reply to her.”

---- 

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Um Akaashi?  😅

Uh  😅 😅

You know, if you’re not interested in talking to me you could’ve just said so

Akaashi:

Sorry I was busy, I had volleyball practice.

Y/n:

OH I’M SO SORRY 

I didn’t know you have practice on weekends ;-; 

Akaashi:

It’s all right.

Y/n:

Anyways how’s practice^^ was it fun?

Akaashi:

Yeah, it was like usual.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“HE’S” “SUCH” “A” “DRY” “TEXTER” “AAAAAAAAAAAA”

You scream inside your head while holding yourself back from banging your head on the table. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Do you think we can maybe, meet up?  👉 👈

Like 

Uh  😶

Akaashi:

Date?

Y/n:

NO NO  😲 

I mean we never met of course not haahahahaha 

Akaashi:

Meeting up just to get to know each other then?

Y/n:

Ah yes that’s it, like a gathering

If you don’t mind 

Akaashi:

I’ll see if I’m available. 

Y/n:

Cool! Is next Sunday fine?

Akaashi:

We’ll see. 

Y/n:

...

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Wowww playing hard to get huh 

He sure is a tricky one

Y/n:

I don’t think I like where this is going

El is best girl:

It lowkey kinda ruins the impression you have of him huh 

Ah well 

It’s probably his first time or something

Have a little hope  😔  

Y/n:

Well 

I have one week to prepare 

HAVE FAITH  😍 😍

El is best girl:

Hell yeah 

Any thoughts on where you’re taking him 

If you don’t I mayyyyy have suggestionsssssssss 

AHHAAHAHAHAHA

Y/n:

God damn it El 

We’ll just be talking okay 

I do have a place in mind though

El is best girl:

Go on

Y/n:

You know the ice cream shop? At the street? 

El to is best girl:

Ohh an ice cream shop 

Very intriguing  🥺

Don’t tell me it’s because of that article 

Y/n:

I mean

El is best girl:

LMAO you 

You seriously believe you can tell someone’s personality by their favourite ice cream flavour?

Grow a brain Y/n 

Y/n:

You’re one to talk  🙄 🙄

Anyways I’m off to prepare dinner for tonight

El is best girl:

Owh Iwaizumi-kun teaching you to cook again

Let’s hope you don’t bring the kitchen down with you okay dear

Y/n:

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends

El is best girl:

Nah it’s simple really

You looooooooove me uwu

Y/n:

Ew

Go away 

El is best girl:

😳 😳 😳

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

- end of chapter 2 -

« masterlist / previous / next »

(author’s end notes: i hope yall enjoyed this lmAO its pretty long ^^ anyways im writing their texts from y/n’s POV so the nicknames she gives her contacts might change owo)

[camiddletonxox]

Unexpected Encounter

Pairing - Professor Ian Kingsley x Charity Middleton

Rating - PG, this so angsty and most probably not suitable for young kids to read. This is just a pure angsty fic I needed to write after my stressful day

Note - I have 2 more weeks before Christmas break so should get some more time to write I hope. I’ll keep you posted... because Christmas is all about family for me and I’ll probably have a tonne more work to get done before Christmas even gets here. Anyway enjoy the angst

Taglist - @drakewalkerfantasy @ao719 @princess-geek @polishchoicesfan @binny1985 @adriansbiss @desireepow-1986 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @hatescapsicum @itscassandral @gardeningourmet @thequeenofcronuts @heauxplesslydevoted @kaavyaethanramsey @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @waitingforalana @regencylady1810 @storyofmychoices @dailydoseofchoices @sanchita012 @sushiharrington @akshara16 @maurine07 @choicesficwriterscreations

——————————

Summary - Charity storms into Ians office and lets just say its unexpected their ‘conversation’

Word Count - 980

————————

Ian sat in his office, for the millionth time thinking about her. She wasnt even in the room. She hadn’t been in contact with him for a couple of days. Maybe a day at the least, but he craved to see her.

He sipped on the coffee he had made himself and cleared his throat, he was going to get through this paperwork. He had to check his emails, surely she must have sent him a email right? He had no idea why but the thought of her drove him insane, it was some crazy part of him. It felt like one of those rare insane moments, the type she caused him since he met her that night at the bar.

“Professor Kingsley” He heard and he recognised the soft voice, and he looked up to her, she was there.

“Miss Middleton, how can I help?” The professionalism in his voice was one of those moments of pure idiocy. He knew that. Somehow, even she could tell that.

“I need to talk to you” Her voice was serious and somehow there was this random pounding of his heart that had begun? Was she ok? Did she need help?

“Right” He nodded and he stood up, walking to the other side of his desk and he pulled the chair out, as she came closer he could smell the rose scent of her perfume, her hair was in a messy bun and she looked exhausted. How had he not just realised that? He kicked himself mentally. They stared at each other for a long moment before he cleared his throat and he slowly went behind his desk, sitting down.

“I don’t know what I am doing here, Ian” She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face, that had barely any make up on. The look on her face was one of frustration, she bit her lip, and she took a deep breath.

“Is everything ok?” He questioned softly, his hand went over hers.

“I just am so fed up” She hissed and she yanked her hand away from his, not that this awful feeling was any of his fault. She stood up and shook her head.

“Of us?” He asks, and she shook her head but then faced away from him.

“I don’t know, I just was walking down the street and there was a couple being happy and” She didn’t even know how to put into words how she was feeling.

“And what?” He asks, sceptically.

“I just felt.... I don’t know” She just shrugged and she looked at him, his eyes scanned her beautiful features.

“Felt restricted?” He asks, and she just shrugs.

“Suffocated, restricted, frustrated” She responds with a hint of her voice cracking

“I know” He stepped towards her but she purposefully put a distance between them, no way was she getting sucked into some messed up sex session.

“I just.... I want you to really care for me” She says and the look on his face made her instantly regret what had just come out of her mouth.

“You don’t think I care about you? You don’t think I feel guilty as fuck every time I see you because I know I can’t have you, but I want you” His voice was rising in volume, he stared into her eyes, and he saw a vulnerability.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, that just came out. It shouldn’t have come out, my brain is so overwhelmed” She gazed into his eyes.

“Charity, I don’t think you realise how much I care about you, you are the most brightest, most educated, most.... goddamnit, most stunning woman I have met and as your professor, as the man who has somehow fell for you, I care about you” He looked at her and she looked away.

“I feel like I’m falling apart right now” She admitted. He paced twice, each way and he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

“Tell me about it” He grumbled and she glared at her, ok, that was uncalled for, he thought to himself.

“This is insanity, I shouldn’t have come” She picked her bag up and she walked towards his office door, feeling a whole range of anger, even sadness. Ian walked behind her and put his hand on the doorknob, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“What is this really about, Charity?” He gazed down to look at her and she sighed and just rested her hand on the polished wood on the door, her heart pounding.

“I just feel vulnerable” She almost cries, “And all you can do is have a little grumble to yourself”

“I know, my love” His voice turned tender, and she looked away.

“Don’t,” she snapped.

“Don’t what?” He asked and she turned to him.

“You don’t get to call me terms of endearment, because I want to cry and just want you to hold me when you do” She hissed and she poked on his chest. Her eyes were glassy with tears.

“Then let me hold you, please” He practically begged and she just felt herself tremble. She just collapsed in his arms, sobbing how it just wasn’t fair they couldn’t be together properly.

“The secrecy kills me too, but I refuse to ruin your education. I will do anything for you” He whispers, and she just holds onto him super tight. She had no idea why she needed to storm into his office like this, but she hadn’t seen herself gripping onto him the way she was, having one of those low moments where her emotions hit her like a car.

Ian knew all he could do was hold her, and thats what he planned to do. He knew there would be ups and downs but this exchange was a unexpected rollercoaster. But, he knew, because he cared so much for her, he would do anything for her.

[kingsuckjin]

I tricked a lot of you, and here's how and why I did it.

Before you hit the "read more" I just want you to know this was an experiment, this isn't a call out post, I'm not coming at readers or writers, I have a shit ton of respect for you all, especially Jungkook, seeing as he's my second bias. Maybe even if you squint hard enough there's some info in here to help new writers. Beware the sort of long post under the cut.

So let's start off by stating my problem, a problem that I'm sure all or most writers are experiencing. Jungkook fics get more notes and feedback than any of the others. At first when this started for me, I was blaming myself and wondering if it was me and my writing. I was wondering if my other fics just weren't good enough, and then I started to see a pattern that it was just Jungkook fics getting the most notes and feedback. I don't feel like it's always been like this for me, for a long time a Taehyung fic of mine was most loved by readers, so I obviously questioned if my writing had just went bad somehow. I had started joking for a while that one of these days I'd post the exact same fic twice, a Jungkook version and one with any other member and see what happens, and it was only a joke but something last night pushed me to do it. Last night I posted a teaser to a fic I had been working hard on, something I thought people would love as much as my most popular fic (a jk one) and right out of the gate it ended up not doing well. I started wondering again if it was just me being a shitty writer and honestly I got tired of feeling that way and blaming myself so I broke.

What did I do?: I know the best time to post fics for me is Friday and Saturday nights because those are the nights with the most traffic. So last night (Saturday) took a Namjoon fic named "Drive" I felt deserved more notes (it only had 272) I copy pasted it into my docs, retitled it to "Ruin Him", and changed Namjoon's name to Jungkook and privated my namjoon fic that was exactly the same fic. I posted my "jungkook fic" right after my Jimin teaser, thinking at the very least that maybe I could also experiment with ways of bringing more traffic to a fic.

After about 12 hours here's what I found: 1.) Only one person caught on and in a very kind way wondered if I was stealing someone's else’s fic 😂(I'm very sorry anon. Thank you though for being brave enough to for that and stick up for writers and even be nice about it) my "jk fic" after just half a day had 160-ish notes, where as my joon fic that was the exact same had only 272 after months of being up. So my "jungkook" fix was obviously wracking up notes and feedback faster than the same one that came first. While a lot of factors probably go into this like the amount of followers I've gained since I've written the joon fic until now when I posted the jungkook fic, I do believe jungkook fics obviously do better. Now, I also don't know if I have a concentration of jungkook stans following me (because I too am a jungkook stan, I'm double biased) and I've done this to myself by writing a lot of kook, but I've heard a lot of writers have this exact same thing going on.

As for the results of if it helped bring traffic to my jimin teaser: it did not. My jimin teaser only has 55 notes after about the same amount of time of it being consecutively posted before my fake Jungkook fic. Although it had a banner, and promise of future smut (lack of smut now would also probably play a role in the amount of notes along with it just being a teaser) and the jk and joon fics did not have the fancy bells and tassels, it didn't seem to matter. So maybe banners for fics aren't everything but they are a nice addition to help draw people in.

What's the big deal? Am I just a writer groveling for notes?: the problem is I've felt restricted as a writer since I discovered this. I'll work hard on a fic and share it with you only to discover that there's no feedback, comments or reblogs, and that you only wanted Jungkook. It's disheartening, because while I love writing fics for the others I found myself wondering what's the point if no one cares? What's the point in sharing all of my work if it gets completely disregarded? What's the point if it doesn't bring joy to anyone else too? Writing makes me happy but what's the point in sharing it if no one wants it, why not just keep it for myself instead of going through the trouble of making a banner, putting in warnings, description and tags, check it for errors, harass my writer friends for opinions on it as I'm writing it, hyping it up first for weeks, and giving updates on progress? It's hard to find drive to write when you know not many others care.it all just filled me with a lot of doubt and apprehension before posting any fic. (But for those of you that do care and read or reblog and give me feedback on almost everything I write I hope you know you are absolute angels and you're what keep me posting and hanging on. I have such infinite love for you, I see you and know who you are and look forward to seeing you in my notifications every time I post something. I'd die for you.) Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t read or write, I love a good kook fic as much as anyone else, I’m just stating what I've found, how it makes me feel and the decisions I’m faced with.

So what am I going to do? I understand there's a whole lot of people with kook as their bias (including myself) and I understand why Jungkook fics are so popular and I'm not quite sure it can be helped. Honestly, its probably just a me problem. It does make me feel sad that fics about the others get less love though. So what I've been thinking hard on doing these past few months is either 1.) Switching to AO3 only, I'm aware they probably have the same problem, but I feel like AO3 is just better with feedback in general no matter what member you post. I'm still deciding on that and might take me a few months to really think on. Honestly I don't think I could *only* write Jungkook fics, and if I did I'd probably get hate for it and experience severe burn out. Or option 2.) Leaving the option available for you to request any of my fics rewritten with a different member. And I don't mean just copy paste the same fic like I did last night every time, I like thinking that fics would go slightly differently depending on the member. So if you see one of my fics you'd want with another member you could just tell me. That way, if I get feedback on a fic that's similar to another, I could just apply it in my mind to both and I'd have reassurance that it's not just my writing that's making people not read or leave feedback.

I really want to know your thoughts on all of this, so please be sure to let me know. As for the joon fic that's also a jungkook fic, I'm adding both to my masterlist so long after this post is forgotten, I'll know it's not me and I shouldn't be so hard on myself and if you're another writer going through something similar, just know that it’s not you, your writing is not bad and you're not the problem. tumblr has been bad about creator feedback and reblogs even without all of this anyway.

[sodone-withlife]

glass is fragile

Criminal Minds Fic Part One

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: implied character death 

Notes: cross-posted on Ao3. this is the result of a random idea I had because while I love Hotchniss, I love the idea of the two meeting in college and keeping in contact with Hotch being an overprotective brother

fortuna vitrea est; tum cum splendet frangitur (fortune is glass; just when it gleams brightest it shatters) - Publilius Syrus

“Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch looked up and did a double-take. “Emily?” he stood up, sending a surprised look at the smiling woman carrying a file box standing in front of his desk. He walked around his desk and closed his office door before giving her a half hug. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Emily let out a brief laugh, placing the box down on one of the chairs. “Last we talked was what, two years ago?”

“Must have been,” Hotch walked back around the desk and sat down, gesturing for Emily to do the same. “How’ve you been doing?”

Her expression dimmed a bit, shadows encroaching on the brightness of their reunion. “Well, he is still locked away, so it’s old history,” she shrugged. “Joined the bureau about a year ago, and I’ve been stuck in a desk job over at White Collar.”

Hotch held her gaze, knowing what was going unsaid, then nodded and changed the subject. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what’s brought you here? Last I heard you were doing pretty well over in the DC office.”

Emily’s expression gave way to confusion as she sat up straight. “I’m transferring to your team,” she said slowly.

Hotch paused. “I didn’t receive any paperwork nor did I authorize any transfer,” he told her awkwardly.

She reached into the box and pulled out a file, giving it to him. “I’m not sure what to tell you,” she said and indicated the file, “but that’s what I have.” Hotch flipped through, lips compressed in thought.

“I’m going to have to look into this,” he looked up at her seriously and forestalled any protests with a placating hand. “There’s no doubt that you’re qualified to join this team. However, normally, all applications for this unit go directly to me, and your transfer happens to come just as there have been some inquiries regarding this unit.”

A look of mutual understanding passed between them, their experience with bureaucratic and office politics filling in all the blanks. “Well,” Hotch broke that silence that had fallen and stood up, “you’ve luckily caught us when we’re on stand down, so I’ll introduce you to the team and you can get set up.”

Emily nodded and stood up as he picked up the box for her, both slightly put off-balance in the new boss-employee dynamic between them after they had worked together on equal footing for a few years. Hotch nudged her arm, stopping her just before they walked out of the office.

When she looked up at him, a small but genuine smile had broken through the darker affect he had gained since the last time they had seen each other.

“It really is good to see you again.”

~~~

“Any idea why Sean, just out of the blue, asked to meet with us?”

Emily shook her head. “No idea,” she answered, looking at the suited man in the driver’s seat of the black Mercedes. “It’s been six years since I last talked to him. You?”

“Same as you, about six,” Hotch replied. “I remained in contact with him for a bit after I returned to the BAU, but our exchanges were usually brief.”

The two lapsed into an easy silence until Hotch pulled up in front of a jazz bar. They got out of the car and easily fell into an old rhythm developed over twenty years ago in New Haven, one that they often took advantage of during cases because of its apparently intimate nature.

“Emily Prentiss,” a burly Scottish man stood up from a booth towards the back of the bar and opened his arms invitingly. “Aaron Hotchner.”

Emily let out a delighted laugh and went in for the hug while a Hotch lagged behind with a faint smile.

“Sean,” Hotch sent the man a nod of greeting and shook his hand, “how are you?”

“Good,” Sean answered, gesturing towards the booth and sitting down.

“Sorry we weren’t able to get back to you sooner,” Emily said, scooting inward to make room for Hotch. “We got caught up chasing a spree killer couple out to the Pacific Northwest.”

“I had to be in DC anyway,” Sean responded. The delight the two FBI agents felt at seeing the man quickly faded and made way for feelings of foreboding when Sean’s demeanor and tone turned serious and almost fearful. He took a breath. “Ian Doyle vanished from prison, and Interpol can’t find him.”

His insides turning cold, Hotch immediately looked at Emily, who had gone pale. “What—” she swallowed, “what are you saying?”

Sean leaned in, a grim look in his eyes as he looked between the two. “He’s off the grid,” he said gravely.

“Do you think he’s headed here?” Hotch asked quietly, thoughts straying towards Emily and his son. Sean’s gaze only turned grimmer as he didn’t answer.

Emily’s shaky voice broke the tense silence—only interrupted by the ambiance of the bar—that had fallen. “Am I in danger?”

The Scotsman looked down, taking a moment to gather himself before looking back up, a chilling answer on his lips.

“We all are.”

~~~

“He sent freesias to your apartment?”

“No, don’t tell me, not even over this line. I’m going on a run tomorrow morning around National Mall and planning to eat at Dupont Circle afterward. I’ll send you the address if you’d like to join me?”

“Yeah, the moment I got home after Sean told us I checked and reset everything, did my rounds. You know how I can be, especially after… yeah.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say I might be the least at risk, given that I was only involved half the time you guys were. But you are in significantly more danger than any of us.”

“Leave worrying about what I have to lose to me. You—for once in your life, just think about yourself and be careful.”

~~~

“You’ve got to get out of there.”

Hotch approached Emily out in the hallway, picking out fear from the urgency in her tone. “Get a flight. Leave France, get back to America,” she continued, unable to fully hide her fearful worry as she met his gaze with her own. “Cash transactions from here on out, am I clear?”

He watched as Emily listened to the other caller, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Toss that cell phone and get home safely,” she finally said firmly, hanging up without waiting for a response.

“Who?” Hotch asked simply, having suspicions as to what this was about. Emily turned to glance through the window, seeing Reid watching the two carefully—Hotch followed her gaze just in time to catch Reid quickly looking back down.

He shook his head, looking back at Emily. “My office, as soon as we can.”

~~~

Hotch opened the next report in his stack and quickly flipped through only to see a ripped sheet of paper in between a crime scene photo and the autopsy report. Recognizing the handwriting, he pulled it out, only to freeze when he read the note.

I received a text last night. He’s in the country.

He ripped up the paper as he looked out into the bullpen, eyes landing on Emily, who was hunched over at her desk looking through a report. He took in a stabilizing breath as he felt yet another headache coming on in addition to the ever-present worry over his son’s safety, despite all the precautions he had put in place all those weeks ago in a fit of med-noncompliance-induced obsessive anxiety.

Digging out a sticky note from under the piles of paperwork on his desk and quickly writing a note, Hotch grabbed a fresh stack of papers and went out to distribute them. He surreptitiously slipped the sticky note onto Emily’s desk before moving onto the others and heading back into his office, closing the door behind him.

His personal phone buzzed.

>>T and C here in 48. 1300 rendezvous over phone (S): I’ll go out, you stay in the building

Hotch looked back into the bullpen at Emily, who was putting her phone away. He looked back at his phone and began to enter in a number when his gaze drifted over to the two pictures of Jack he kept on his desk. He sighed and deleted the number he just inputted, completing yet another round of the indecisive compulsion that started ever since that meeting in the jazz bar.

~~~

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Tsia’s voice came over the phone and faintly from a few meters away. “After what happened to Jeremy, I was afraid.”

Emily sighed, shifting the newspaper in her lap. “Tsia, I’m sorry you can’t be at his funeral. It’s today, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s the problem with marrying a member from your own team,” the other woman responded resignedly. “One of you is a target, so is the other. I get it.”

“Hello, darling,” a new voice came over the call—Emily couldn’t help but mentally sigh at the nickname from Clyde.

“Alright,” Hotch interjected. “Emily and I took a late lunch, and I’m currently reviewing a potential field case, so let’s make this quick.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Clyde asked rhetorically. “I’m not quick about anything.”

Emily rolled her eyes in exasperation and faint amusement, practically able to feel Hotch’s glare over the phone. “I don’t know,” she drawled. “What about that time I blew my cover in Prague? You took out that sentry before I could even draw my weapon. You saved my ass, Clyde.”

“I’m surprised you remember the little people from your Interpol days, now that you’re a posh FBI profiler,” Clyde shot back.

Hotch pointedly cleared his throat and changed the subject. “What’s being done to locate Doyle?”

“Only every agency in the northern hemisphere is looking for him.”

“What are we doing to find him?” Emily emphasized.

“My contact at DCRI tracked one of Doyle’s aliases leaving France the day after Jeremy’s murder,” Tsia reported. “He took a commercial flight to Beijing, then doubled back on a train bound for Berlin.”

“But when GSG 9 intercepted it, he was already gone,” Clyde finished.

“He sent me flowers, so I think it’s safe to assume he’s coming here,” Emily wryly added.

“Why is he doing this?” Tsia asked.

“Why do you think?” Hotch threw back. “We put him away. Hold on—” he cut himself off just as Emily’s other phone beeped.

“Duty calls?” Emily didn’t answer, feeling Clyde’s eyes on her back. “I know what you’re thinking—absolutely not,” he said firmly. “Your team isn’t under oath—”

“They could help,” she interrupted.

“How?” Tsia questioned. “We don’t even know where Doyle is. Involving them at this point would be premature.”

“Hotch?”

“Emily,” Hotch started quietly. “They’re highly capable, yes, but they don’t have clearance, and I rather doubt Strauss would be willing to help plead our case.”

“It would also be highly reckless,” Clyde interjected. “Leave it to Tsia and I, and you two stay with your team.”

“Even in hiding Doyle can’t resist extravagance,” Emily suggested, relenting to the others. “Track the money.”

“I will find him, darling. Trust me.”

Hotch scoffed at the plea request over the phone. “I don’t trust anyone, anymore,” Emily threw back, her tone conveying how both she and Hotch feel about that appeal.

~~~

>>T and C tracked V to DC. Chuck Murray.

<<Isn’t that the name of V’s dog?

>> Yep.

>>I’m playing fish food tonight. Alone.

<<Are you sure?

>>Like you said: you’re in as much danger as the rest of us are. I also happen to be his main target and he’ll kill anyone in his way. You happen to have the most to lose, and you can bet that he’s already got eyes on you.

<<Don’t worry about me, I’ve gotten that handled quite a bit ago. Location.

>>Seriously?

<<I trust you. I just want to know where to start if you don’t show up tomorrow morning.

>>Fine. Hirshhorn Museum.

<<Don’t do anything stupid.

>>Awwww, is that emotion I detect from no-smile Iceman?

<<I can neither confirm nor deny.

<<Be careful, Blackbird.

~~~

“Ian Doyle is here in DC.”

“How can you be so sure?” Clyde asked skeptically.

“I sat next to him last night,” Emily deadpanned. “He said if I warned my team or told anyone, he’d kill them.”

“Does Aaron know about this?” Tsia was incredulous. Clyde snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Of course he does, he’s the protective big brother. Why didn’t Doyle kill you, and more to the point, why didn’t you kill him?”

“He’s not working alone,” Emily answered, staring at Clyde.

Tsia tried to reassure her. “Then he’s just playing with you—”

“No, no,” Clyde interrupted, disagreeing, “he’s a power-assertive psychopath. He doesn’t play games.”

“He’s meticulous, he plans everything down to the last detail—” Emily was cut off by a voice coming from her phone.

“Yeah, that last detail being you.”

“Finally decided to join us, Aaron?” Tsia turned to Emily. “Maybe you should tell your team,” she suggested.

“No, no way,” Emily shut it down. “This isn’t their fight.”

“Emily,” Hotch said over the phone. “He’s in DC, and he’s working with others. There is a high chance that the team is going to get pulled into something, you know that.”

“But—”

“I’m not saying we tell them now, but if the team does get pulled into this, we are going to have to tell them. You need to be prepared for that.”

Emily scoffed. “Are you?”

“We stay together, we can get him,” Tsia insisted.

“We already tried,” Emily retorted. “And look where that got us.”

“Wait, wait,” Clyde broke in, looking at her imploringly. “When you went undercover, I promised no one would harm you.”

“I’m not undercover anymore.”

“DC isn’t his comfort zone, it’s ours,” Hotch’s voice was firm. “This ends here.”

~~~

“Reid, you got anything?” Morgan asked, walking up behind the genius.

“The damage is pretty extensive, but luckily some of the tattoo remains,” Reid commented, focusing largely on the sketch.

“Seaver,” Hotch turned to the probationary agent, “get the victim’s photo out to the press.”

“I think I know who dug the hole.” Garcia’s voice rang out from behind them as she approached the group with a notebook in hand. The others turned. “The journo told me to follow the money, like straight up, that’s what he told me, so I did.” She moved to face the others. “It turns out ‘The Gazette’ is owned by a multinational global conglomerate—oil, new technologies, shipping, air and ground transportation—all of which employ the services of one company,” the analyst looked up from her notebook, “CWS.”

“Clearwater Securities?” Hotch asked, hiding the foreboding feelings starting to creep upon him.

Rossi looked at him in surprise. “You know them?”

“I’ve come across them,” Hotch confirmed, not looking at Emily. “They’re a private counterintelligence group out of Geneva.”

“Ron Cosenza, Byron Delaney, Kerry Fagan all worked for CWS,” Garcia told them.

“How long ago?” Emily asked.

“Seven years.”

“Seaver, hang up,” Hotch said, hiding the days-old conflict going strong in his head as she did as ordered.

Still looking towards Hotch, Rossi asked, “Do we have a problem?”

“No, CWS does.”

“Got it,” Reid leaned back in his chair, showing everyone the sketched reconstruction of the tattoo. Hotch froze, mind overlaying an old memory over the familiar design, and glanced at Emily, who had also gone pale. They made eye contact, and Hotch nodded to her unasked question.

As she slipped out of the bullpen, he turned to the others. “SCIF,” he ordered, bringing out his phone and scrolling through his contacts.

~~~

>>Are we…?

<<If V doesn’t already, he will know soon. There’s no reason not to tell them.

>>But like you said, they don’t have clearance.

<<Discuss this after the corporate roadblocks, see what the team needs to know and what they can know.

~~~

“Exactly why did you bring us here?” a portly man asked as the team walked into the SCIF. “And why is the BAU interested in CWS?”

Hotch handed the men at the end of the table a few folders as Morgan threw the first question. “Why did you pull that story?”

The men gave him a critical look before flipping open the folders to see pictures of the victims and crime scenes.

“That’s how you remember them,” Hotch indicated the headshots, then the crime scene photos. “And that is how they are now.”

“You warned your friend, Byron Delaney,” Morgan stated. “You knew him the longest. It’s too bad you were too late.”

The man looked back impassionately. “If you’re looking for reactions, this is our business.”

“Business?” Rossi questioned the wording.

“Ugly as that sounds,” the man amended diplomatically.

“Kerry Fagan, Ron Cosenza, and Byron Delaney, they all worked for CWS,” Morgan pointed out.

“As do forty thousand other subcontractors do all over the world.”

“So they were subcontracted to you.”

“If you’re looking for answers, take it up with the main contractor,” the man avoided the question.

“And that would be… ?” Rossi asked.

“Your government.”

“Whoever is killing these families holds your company responsible, not the government,” Hotch informed them shortly.

“We run operations from the Middle east to Antarctica,” the man said, “going over them all will take months.”

“So you’ve already started investigations?” The man didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

“That’s why you pulled the story,” Rossi concluded.

One of the others leaned in, whispering something in the man’s ear. He nodded and turned to the team. “The cases these people were involved in are protected by a multinational official secrets agreement. Even if I wanted to I—”

“These people were killed on US soil,” Morgan interrupted,” by trained suspects who fired on federal agents.”

“As a courtesy,” Hotch said when there was no response, “and out of respect for the predicament your company now faces, everything in this room is off the record. However, outside this room, if you withhold information about the case, you and your company will be held fully accountable.”

The men shifted, uncomfortable, when the spokesperson finally relented. “Alright, what do you know?”

“We’re looking for a European team with considerable training,” Hotch chose his words carefully. “And for one of them, it’s personal.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because they could have spared the child, but they chose not to,” Morgan said.

“The killing of Samuel Cosenza by one of the team was personal,” Hotch agreed.

“One of the attacks shot last night had the remains of a tattoo on his wrist,” Rossi informed them as Hotch passed over another folder.

“On the surface the tattoo may look like a simple four-leaf clover,” Morgan described, “but the stem has a ‘V’ at the end. We believe this is associated with a hidden sect of fallen warriors. It’s also the name of a ship famous for its journeys from Dublin to America, the ‘Valhalla.’”

Rossi eyed the looks on the men’s faces. “Have you seen that before?” he asked.

“We ran an operation to capture the leader of a breakaway IRA faction years ago,” the man said. “He assumed that moniker.”

“What’s his name?” Hotch asked, already knowing the answer. The man was silent for a moment.

“Ian Doyle.”

~~~

“Okay, Ian Doyle’s officially on everyone’s list,” Garcia said, eyes skimming over her computer screen. “His mug is all over the place. He’s not going to be able to get out of the district unless he sprouts wings himself.”

“It’s not that I’m not happy that we have his name,” Seaver interjected, “but how are we supposed to know who’s on his list?”

“We study his life and every single person he’s ever come in contact with,” Morgan answered.

“Look, Doyle’s been away for seven years,” Emily said as Hotch and Rossi entered the room. “But he still managed to figure out who the players were, maybe we should start with how he got out of prison,” she suggested.

“Well, where was he locked up?” Morgan asked.

“Russia, I think.”

“Actually, there are no extradition papers on him,” Seaver informed them.

“Was Doyle on your radar when you were at Interpol?” Hotch’s gaze locked onto Emily’s, putting the ball that had been passed between them over the past week in her court.

“Uh, sure, I had heard of him, but direct contact?” she shook her head. “I’d have to ask around.”

“You do that, I’ll see who I can get from my end,” Hotch said to the others’ surprise as she nodded and walked out. “Not now,” he said to the team, sensing their questions and pulling out his phone.

“Good guys and bad keep files close to them,” Rossi brought their focus back.

“What are in these files?” Garcia asked.

“It’s intel. Insurance. Protection, for times like this,” he explained.

“Maybe I should go to Byron Delaney’s house and see what I can find,” Morgan suggested.

Hotch looked up from his texting at him. “Take Prentiss with you, she might have some insight.”

~~~

“The more players we get on this board, the sooner Erin will get her nose into it,” Rossi remarked.

Hotch didn’t look away from the photos they had pinned on the board. “Strauss already knows,” he said absentmindedly.

“I’m surprised she wasn’t in the SCIF,” Rossi said, surprised.

Hotch finally glanced at him. “She’s on vacation.”

“Oh, great. Now she’ll never take another one,” Rossi quipped. “You know people in Interpol?” he asked.

“Taskforce, joined late 2001 and returned half a year after Morgan joined the team. Did a bit of everything,” Hotch gave him a sardonic look. “Apparently, being a former prosecutor, former tactical agent, and now a profiler was highly desirable.”

Rossi snorted, momentarily giving away to amusement before sobering up. “Is everything about this guy classified?” he asked, staring at the messy case.

“Somebody knows him,” Hotch said. “We just haven’t found them yet.”

~~~

“Here’s the million-dollar question,” Garcia said, pulling up a close up of a foreign road sign. “Anyone know what language that is?”

“Those are villages in North Korea,” Prentiss said warily.

Garcia tilted her head. “I love you. Of course she does.”

“There’s a political prison near Haengyong-ni,” Prentiss continued.

“Camp 22, kwan-li-so,” Hotch said in recognition. “North Korea denies it exists.”

The others stared at him incredulously. “How—?” Morgan began.

“Two years,” Hotch explained shortly. “Met Emily a few times, heard Doyle’s name being tossed around. You think they took Doyle there?” he looked at the woman.

“That would explain why he’s after them,” Seaver suggested.

“Even his prison is off the grid,” Garcia threw in.

“All we know is that he was never married, had multiple residences, and was arrested at his Tuscan villa,” Seaver continued.

“There’s paperwork to back that up?” Emily asked.

“Ans a list of who was there that day,” Seaver confirmed, nodding. “There may be photographs, Reid’s looking into that now.”

“Right, so those people need to be warned that he’s on the warpath,” Hotch noted Emily’s deliberate calm belied by a nervous swallow.

“They have been,” Seaver said. “But here’s a whole different life he’s led, one that isn’t in any file.”

“Prentiss, did you hear from your European associates?” Hotch asked, checking if she had anything, himself having not gotten anything from them as of yet.

“I’m waiting for them to send me a document.”

“We need it now.” call them, now. How did he get to North Korea?

~~~

>>Told T to get out. C isn’t telling us everything.

<<And you trust me and T?

>>Known you since what, ‘89? And we’ve seen each other on the daily for the past five years now, Iceman.

>>Honestly, I don’t know about T or C, no idea what they’ve been up to.

<<Corelli’s?

<<If you want to keep hiding this you need to be more discreet, overheard you walking to my office.

<<Tell me later.

~~~

“What’s holding us up?” Rossi asked.

“We’re waiting for somebody from DC Metro Police,” Hotch said. “Then we can start.”

“Who’s got updates on roadblocks?”

“They will. All parkways and interstates in DC, Maryland, and Virginia have station checkpoints.”

“Doyle has the means to get in and out of the country,” Emily pointed out. “What makes you think he won’t get out of the District?”

Hotch blew out a breath, glancing at Emily and then at the numerous agency reps standing around in the bullpen. “It’s the best we’ve got right now.”

The door opened to reveal Morgan on the other side. “Metro got held up. Double homicide on K and 9th,” he reported. “They want me to take a look.”

An icy feeling trickled down Hotch’s spine when he realized what the location was. “Doyle?” he asked, not looking at Emily.

“Vic’s apartment looks like a black market forger,” Morgan said.

“The other victim?” Emily asked.

“A woman, thirties, no ID, outside his door.”

“I’m coming with you,” her tone brooked no argument.

“Go,” Hotch urged the two, who left as he picked up the landline.

~~~

“It’s not often that we know a subject’s name, and in this case, knowing Ian Doyle’s identity doesn’t give us very much,” Hotch said, standing in front of a room full of members of numerous letter agencies. “He’s known to a select few, and those who know him well either work beside him or they’re on his list.”

“Two or three of his victims worked for CWS and were responsible for his transport to North Korea,” he said, noting Emily and Morgan’s return to the office. “There were seven opeartives on the mission altogether, and the remaining five have been warned. All the federal and international agents responsible for tracking him down are now on his list of targets.”

“We’ll find Doyle the way we find any other offender—by studying his behavior. We’ll dissect his every move since he regained his freedom. When he escaped from North Korea, he killed a man and he used his vehicle to cross the border into Russia…”

[thenuanceddebater]

Personal Post: Why I Disappear

Alright. This has been a long time coming. This might be one of the most open, personal, etc. posts that I’ve made on this blog. I’m not going to hide anything (save for some identifying details), and I’m going to go through messy stuff like emotions and whatnot. So, I’m putting it under a read more. Please do not think that you need to read this if you don’t want to. 

When I first started this blog, I was in undergrad and almost failing out. I had some family issues going on with my grandfather (who is now deceased due to what I could charitably call medical malpractice to the point where it helped change a national procedural standard), and I was hurting. I didn’t have many (or really any) friends, and I needed something to vent to. I made an account to shout into the void – to post long content that wouldn’t ever really get popular or any traction whatsoever for my own benefit. I needed a place where I could yell at people and feel smart. I really didn’t think anything would ever happen, or that I’d even get like... 50 followers.  And then my content it kind of... did take off to  a degree. 

I wasn’t really prepared for that, but at the time it was really fun. I’ve got a bit of an obssessive/ addictive personality, and tumblr became an addiction. At first, that was okay. I was involved in the culture-war discourse, but not really taking it any more seriously than I took other things. I had a summer internship during summer 2016 where I would make tumblr posts when I didn’t have enough work to do, and enjoyed talking to some of the friends I made on this platform. Then it got bad. I started disagreeing with people on “my side,” the 2016 election happened and I felt isolated from the left and the right, and the alt-right started to become a real thing on this website. 

Charlottesville is what finally killed it for me. I saw so many people I had at least some respect for trotting out positions that were not only wrong, but odiously wrong. I had acquaintances, classmates, good friends who were affected there. Who were on the ground when it happened. And I know a lot more about Charlottesville than most people on this website. I got sick and tired of having to defend myself, of having people who didn’t know what they were talking about speak back on issues that they did not fully understand. At that point, tumblr became toxic for me. And it’s never really come back. It just took me a while to realize it. 

I deleted the tumblr app from my phone in fall 2017, and it’s never come back. I took what was originally intended to be a 3 month sabbatical from tumblr, and then realized that I didn’t want it back in my life. It had kind of... fulfilled its purpose, and I was on to new things. I got a job, and started studying for law school. Then I got into law school. Tumblr was the last place I made that announcement. I used the fact that I had “gotten busy” as an excuse, but that’s not fully accurate. Yes, I was and am very busy. But if I really wanted to, I could make time to post. Maybe not the pages, upon pages, upon PAGES that I used to. But something. What it really was is that I no longer wanted to. The way this website works, at least on the political side, pushed me away. 

Alright, now a MAJOR confession time. I have a lot of anxiety. As in, diagnosed “I went to therapy for a year to help deal with it” anxiety. I’m not in therapy anymore, and I cope with it pretty well (especially compared to some people I know and have a great deal of respect, love, and admiration for). I’m privileged in that regard. So many people have it worse. But, there are still certain things that trigger an immediate strong anxiety response. One of them is seeing that I have notes that aren’t just reblogs or likes. For some reason, when I see a number above that little lightning bolt (or when I saw the activity tracker go crazy on older tumblr) it just makes my heart start pounding. It’s not that I think I might be wrong. I still welcome correction and critique of my opinions. It’s not that I don’t want people to reblog my stuff, or comment on it. That’s (1) not my choice and (2) absolutely silly. 

It’s more that I’m anxious about how the response is going to make me feel. Some of the angriest I’ve been in recent memory is reading tumblr posts. The angriest I’ve been since the whole... grandfather who was like a father to me died due to medical malpractice thing was when I read a response to a post I made about genocide. The second angriest is when I read a response to a post about Charlottesville. The angriest I’ve been in recent memory is when I read that post that brought me back to the website where people were encouraging others to resist unlawful arrest and citing to a case that was outdated. 

I’m not an angry person. I don’t like annoying myself like that. But for some reason, I just can’t help myself sometimes. The number of times I’ve been annoyed enough to want to respond to something in recent memory is... quite high. Sure, there are times where I come back just because I want to check my messages, see something positive, or a question and then am inspired to write something. But that’s not what it usually is. Not really. It’s usually the educator/ elitist in me who wants to correct something that he sees as wrong. And when that thing is dangerously wrong or disingenuously wrong, well that creates some emotions considering that I like to believe that people operate in good-faith and this website really stretches that belief sometimes. And sometimes I can deal with that, and sometimes it really, really bothers me. 

I’ve also discovered that I really don’t get very much from tumblr. I used to use it as shouting to the void, and as an activity I could do other than just playing video games and procrastinating on my school work. Well, I do a lot of things now. I have a lot of friends now, and more school work and obligations to student organizations, law journals, my summer internships, etc. I used to use tumblr as a way to feel like I was smart. To feel like I mattered and that I could do great things. I have other ways of doing that, as well as a lot more internal self-esteem and external validation of that self-esteem. Back when I made my tumblr, I was convinced that I was a bad person. Now, I know I’m not, and am in fact a pretty good person. Back when I made my tumblr, I had no outlet for the intellectual energy other than my long-term girlfriend and school work. Now, I have so many outlets for that energy, that it’s honestly mindboggling. Oh, and I still have that same now very-long-term girlfriend (just in case anyone was curious. Our ten year anniversary is next year. I’m 25. I’ve been dating this woman for almost 40% of my life. And she’s honestly fucking amazing, brilliant, and I’m so damn lucky to have her.). It’s not like I’m starved for interaction or avenues to pursue anymore. When I made my tumblr, I was convinced that I’d fucked my life up to such a degree that I was never really going to be able to un-fuck it. Now, I’ve shown myself that I was wrong. I was really, really wrong. About a lot of things, but especially that. I’m not the same person as when I made my tumblr. Not at all. And that’s a really good thing. 

But when I go and look at some other people, some other blogs that I used to follow/ still follow (I’m not going to name names), I don’t see that kind of change. I see that they are still the same (or very similar) people. It’s been years. They’re talking about the same things, using the same words, etc. That’s... crazy to me. When I logged on to tumblr this fall and I saw that fucking Charlottesville was somehow still a debate topic, I just about lost it. There’s a post I made that accurately summarizes some of the emotions I felt, but really a lot of it was that this website is Neverland. If you stay here, you likely never grow up. All that happens is that the Wendys, Johns, and Michaels decide that they want to grow-up, and leave to go and do so. So, all that’s left are the Peter Pans and Captain Hooks engaged in constant warfare about the same things for weeks, months, years. And when a Wendy, John, or Michael decides to come back well. Neverland is still the same. Welcoming them back to the same fight that they remember from years ago – from when they were a different person. I don’t know why, but that’s just so damn sad to me. There’s a reason why my old bio said “just a human striving endlessly for the perfection that he can never hope to attain.” Because that’s what I do. And tumblr has kind of an... anathema to that and is antithetical to the concept. 

So, tumblr gives me little to nothing, pisses me off, and its never-changing or evolving nature makes me sad and goes against my very being. So, why come back at all? That’s... a damn good question. Not really sure that I can answer it. I suppose the answer has to be that there’s no good reason to come back, but that I will likely continue to do so anyway. Call me a masochist if you must, but sometimes there’s something that I want to share (or that I think the people who SOMEHOW still follow this dead-ass blog should know), or an idea that I think is useful, or I just so happen to type a “t” on my keyboard and tumblr gets pulled-up and I see something and decide to post on it, etc. and I come back. VERY temporarily. Only until I’m pulled away or driven away again. I think that’ll probably keep happening. At least to some degree. 

Will I ever come “back” like I was in undergrad or the summer before I got my job? I don’t know. Signs point to “no,” but I’ve been wrong before. I’ve been oh so very wrong before. And maybe I’m wrong about what tumblr gives me. Maybe I can have a healthy relationship with this website to the point where the reblogs don’t give me anxiety, and I’m not either sad or angry (to some degree) when I make a response. But right now, I really doubt it. And I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed anyone, but that’s just where I am right now. 

So yeah. I think that’s it. I’ll be around temporarily right now (my internship has really good hours, and I’ve got time in the evenings before I game with friends and talk to my girlfriend to take a look at some things). But come the end of August, I’ll likely be gone again. Maybe even before that. I’m not going to close this blog (because I’ll likely be back again), but content or opinions are never going to be consistent. 

If anyone wants to talk, feel free to message me, send an ask, etc. Seeing as I’ve basically dumped a lot of stuff at once (and broken some of the wall separating “TND” from me as a person) I’m down to answer pretty much anything. 

[daisukitty]

29.12.2020

Hey y’all ! Just a recap on my 2020.

So, for the past few years I’ve been busy with my job and other shenanigans. I finally decided to begin my journey in working abroad, I’m looking at you IRELAND. Why Ireland? I have two aunts who work in Hospitals abroad (Ireland and America), they always share stories about their job and life abroad, I find Ireland more enticing because I think the weather and the mood in Ireland would suit me better than the US, I am a person who enjoys cool cold weather after all. Anyways, I sat and took the IELTS exam twice on 2019 but sadly I did not reach a passing mark in my writing test in both of them. Luckily, a close friend of mine invited me to take the OET exam, albeit it was rather expensive I gave it a go and thankfully passed the exam. Passing the exam was my ticket to apply in Ireland as a Non-EU applicant.

The NMBI process was easy once you have all the available documents at hand, the waiting part is tough but it’s over within 6 months or less. The part where I had a hard time was procuring my PRC documents, I had to go to Davao City since it needs to be sent by a Regional office. So, amidst the pandemic and the threat to visiting a covid-19 hotspot, I really needed those documents so I had to force my mom to let me go even if I travel alone. It was the first time I drove to Davao by myself, and what do you know my tire exploded, I wasn’t hurt (THANK GOD!) and I had a spare tire, a bystander helped me find a car mechanic to change the tire. It was a 4 hour ride, time was ticking, by the way I cried when I got back on the road thinking ‘I could have died back there.’ So I arrived at PRC and I find out that they were about to stop accepting applicants because they’re only open in the Morning and I got there at 10:30am. Close call but I got in. I started processing and then I was informed that there were no stamps left, the stamps are needed for processing documents. My heart sank, I asked them where I might be able to buy the stamps, but they said even the ones selling outside has none left, and they don’t know when the stamps will be available. My heart sank even deeper, I came there with only one goal and I almost got into an accident and I won’t even get what I came for. The NMBI deadline was nearing its end and the PRC documents is the only requirement left. If I don’t get this now, I will have to reschedule my appointment and the next available date is past my NMBI deadline. I was teary eyed, thinking of just leaving and accepting my destiny, I went to the gate and talked to the guard eating his lunch. He told me to go back inside and wait for him, so I did. After a few minutes he approached me together with an applicant, the guy gave me 2 stamps, he said he brought four earlier, so he gave it to me. I paid him, and I paid the guard. I felt so blessed, I was being helped by strangers whenever I encountered problems. I finished processing and went home directly.

After a month of waiting, I received my Decision Letter from NMBI (October 25), that day I began sending my CVs to various Hospitals and Agencies who are advertising for Theatre Nurse vacancies. November 09, I was chilling at home drawing on my pen tablet when my phone suddenly rang, my eyes widened and my heart beat fast after reading [IRELAND] on my phone screen, I picked up my phone and frantically paced around the house, it was from an agency called CCM recruitment. The call went like this:

agent: Hello? Is this [my name] ?

Nina: Yes, yes maam, speaking.

agent: Okay. I am from CCM Recruitment, are you available for a pre-screening interview right now?

Nina: (right now? I’m not prepared...I need to prepare!) uhm, I’m actually at work today maam (LIES!)

agent: oh, is that so, sorry for calling at this hour.

Nina: No, no, i’ts fine maam. I’m off duty tomorrow.

agent: Okay, can we have the interview tomorrow?

Nina: Sure maam, at what time would that be?

agent: same time. okay? talk to you tomorrow nina.

Nina: thank you very much for calling maam.

And that’s how I escaped because I got scared of not knowing what questions she’ll throw me. I researched some examples on pre-screening interviews and asked a group of nurses with the same experience on what I should be expecting. The day finally came, her first words were ‘sorry ha, natagalan.’ so I thought, ohhh a filipina? My agent was a filipina, I felt a bit relieved knowing that. She just clarified things about my experiences and background, most of her questions were about what I have written on my CV. When I heard the words ‘Okay nina, I’ll help you land a job here in Ireland.’ I was screaming internally! I reviewed my CV after the interview and found a mistake on the year when I started in the OR, I was scared I thought that I would loose my credibility as an applicant and that they would be disappointed and reject my application. I emailed Maam Beth (agent) about the mistake and she replied ‘noted.’ I got my confidence back, I felt blessed to have a kind and understanding agent like her. 

December 2, I received a call from Maam Beth, she was bearing good news:

Beth: Hello nina, sorry medyo natagalan tayo, ilang weeks din tayo na tengga.

Nina: Hello maam beth, no worries po maam.

Beth: soo, my good news ako, may interested na employer sayo no, 2 hospitals and scheduled for interview next week. (SHOOKT) yung CHI and yung isa naman Blackrock, bale may webinar so mag attend ka ha.

Nina: wow, thank you po maam beth.

We discussed about the schedule of the interview and what to do to prepare for an interview. I attended the webinar but it focused only on CHI, I found out later that I was not short-listed for CHI so I focused on Blackrock Clinic Hospital. December 9, the interview schedule was later at 11pm which is 3pm in Ireland, I was told that the interviewer will be the Matron of BRC (Carmel). I was super nervous, I just left the window open, she was late for 30 minutes, I got scared coz I thought she skipped my file or something. When I saw her on the screen I said “oh Hi maam, I saw you on youtube.” A bit unprofessional but she chuckled and I gained a  bit of confidence. The interview lasted for 15-18 minutes, she asked about my experiences in OR and some situational questions inside the theatre, she asked if I would be able to handle their hospital since my current hospital is not as busy and stuff like that, she asked if I’ll be able to pass the RCSI exam, and many more. The interview ended, I did not really know if I did well or if my answers were enough to pass but I lighted a  candle in the Church and prayed to pass. December 10, I received a call from maam beth, at first she asked if we discussed the salary and I said no she didn’t tell me. I thought, the salary wsnt discussed by her because maybe I didn’t pass the interview...I felt sad, but then maam beth broke the silence with a “congratulations”. I was overjoyed, I PASSED!? I PASSED!! She told me about the salary and the RCSI exam and about the next steps. The next day I signed the contract.

I’m still currently processing the papers that were sent by Ate beth (she wants me to call her that and not maam) and some requirements that I need to secure like GP check-up and vaccination status, I’m still employed in the Philippines right now, the next RCSI exam is  on March 2021, I’m not sure if i’ll be able to sit that one with the current pandemic but I’m hoping for the best! I AM FAVORED AND BLESSED IN SO MANY WAYS! I guess my next post will be when I arrive in Ireland.