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levi-lover · 4 years ago

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New Light Part: 1

College Levi x Reader(Modern AU)

W/C: 2.5

T/W: Pretentious Hipster Levi lol

A/N: Levi is a moody English major who spends his free time reading at the local cafe and yes, I think that is sexy as hell. This is a slowburn piece kinda inspired by the Hulu show Normal People! I love that show but I could never watch it again bc it breaks my heart too much lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Part Two will be up soon! & this picture is from Pinterest)

I’ve put all the parts in one list here: New Light Masterlist

“I just don’t get it.” You huffed and leaned back into your chair.

“Don’t worry, this stuff takes time to learn!” Hange looked at you earnestly.

The two of you had been studying at Maria’s Coffee for a few hours. Your genetics midterm was in a few days and you were completely lost. You met Hange on your first week, you anxiously walked into the lecture hall thinking this would be an easy pass to fulfill your science credit. Oh boy, were you wrong. Immediately, you were thrown into the depths of mitosis and chromosomes. The only good thing that came out of it was your new friendship with Hange. On your first day, Hange complimented your sweater and asked if they could sit with you. Hange was a genetics major so this class was easy, hell, it was fun for them. They offered to tutor you so you bought them coffee during your study sessions in return.

“Yeah, you’re right but still,” You said in between sips of your coffee. “How do you like this stuff?”

“Oh, it’s fascinating to me, it’s crazy how we’re made up of tiny cells and in those cells is our human history but we can’t even see it. It’s like the world’s smallest yet most important puzzle.” Hange’s eyes lit up as they continued speaking.

You listened and continued to drink your coffee. It was late but the cafe was still busy with college students hurrying to type their papers and study for tests. The lamps left soft yellow shadows on the cream colored walls. The cafe was homey and it felt like it was a cottage pulled straight out of a forest. From the back of the cafe, you could see the entrance. It was raining and people ran across the sidewalk with their jackets over their heads. You laughed through your nose.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Hange questioned.

“What? Of course, I am. Science is the answer to everything, right?” You quipped.

Hange rolled their eyes and went back to their textbook. You kept your eyes on the front door. It had been a few days since you had seen your coffee shop friend. The word friend was a loose term for your relationship with the dark-haired boy. Your relationship started one day when you were sitting in the spot you are now, it was late, close to 1 am and after downing two cups of coffee you needed to pee. Across from you was a small man holding a used copy of Slaughterhouse Five, he was dressed in all black and was munching on a muffin. You asked him to watch your stuff, he nodded and pushed his hair away from his gray eyes. From that point on, you developed a friendship founded on your mutual respect for privacy yet concern over each other’s well-being. It became an unspoken rule that this was the only place you would meet. Your attention returned to your work, if he wasn’t going to show up then whatever, he was just another stranger.

“Hange, I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“What?! Why?! We haven’t even gotten to the good part, wait until you hear about what happens to the amino acids during replication.” The same familiar look of excitement washed over Hange’s face.

“Look as exciting as it all sounds, I’m gonna have to pass.” You began to gather your things when the front door opened. You looked up and saw the dark-haired boy. He looked as pretty as always with a beige tote bag draped across his shoulder, droplets of rain hung onto his dark strands. Next to him stood a tall, handsome blonde man who was looking around the cafe. His eyes stopped when he reached your table and he lifted a hand and waved at you. You looked at him confused.

“LEVIIII!! ERWIIIN!!” Hange yelled and waved their arms. People looked up at them with annoyance.

“Wait, you know them?” You asked.

“Who, those idiots? Yeah. I forgot to tell you I invited them to study with us. Levi promised to help me write a paper,” Hange said nonchalantly. “Shit! I should have asked you if that’s okay. Is it?”

You looked down and felt your face redden, “no worries, it’s not a problem.”

“I’ll introduce you to them, they’re buttheads but they don’t bite.”

You sat back down and looked at your notebook as the dark-haired boy and the tall blonde walked towards you. A bundle of nerves planted themselves in your stomach but you couldn’t understand why. You’ve known this man for a couple of months now, slowly building a friendship at your own pace. It was nice to have control over something in your life for once but life always has a different plan for you; it was time to properly meet the dark-haired boy. All rules are eventually broken.

You ruffled the papers in front of you and took another sip of your drink but it was empty. Shit, you thought. The two men were standing in front of you and Hange at this point. The dark-haired boy looked at you, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, you’re House Coffee,” he said in a monotonous tone.

The blonde man and Hange looked at him confused, “wait, you know her?” Hange asked.

You shook your head, “nope.”

The dark-haired boy looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda, actually,” You muttered.

“Huh, that’s cool!” Hange announced. “Levi’s a little bitch but you probably already knew that.”

“Shut up, Four Eyes,” Levi retorted.

The blonde man laughed, “my name is Erwin. I’m a Political Science and History double major.” He gave you a dashing smile and lifted his hand.

Levi rolled his eyes, “humble much?”

Erwin gave him a glare before returning his clear blue eyes to you. You chuckled and raised your hand to his. It was a firm handshake.

“My name is (Y/N), it’s very nice to meet you, Erwin. And it’s Levi, right?” Your head turned to the dark-haired boy and he blushed slightly. Hange and Erwin exchanged a look.

Hange raised their hands slightly and asked, “I’m confused.”

“When aren’t you.” Levi remarked.

“Oh, shut it you. I thought you two already knew each other.”

You placed your hands around the empty mug, hoping it would stabilize your nerves. “Know might be a strong word, I guess we’ve seen each other here before?“ You shrugged and looked at Levi.

He nodded, “I agree, we sometimes look after each other’s stuff and talk about books.”

“Good to know. I’m glad Levi has someone else to talk to,” Erwin declared.

They pulled out two chairs and placed them around the table. Erwin pulled out his laptop and his binders, everything was color-coordinated down to the tabs and pens. Levi pulled out a yellow notepad and a beat up copy of On the Road and single black pen. He tried his best to act natural but was unsure how to act around you and his friends. He wasn’t prepared for his two worlds to crash, it wasn’t that he was ashamed to know you. He enjoyed your company but it was something that was special to him. He didn’t want to share those precious late night hours with anyone else but you.

“I’m going to go buy a tea, (Y/N) do you want anything?” Erwin said pointing at your empty cup.

“Uh no-” You were about to say before Levi interrupted you.

“12 oz house coffee, splash of soy,” He stated.

Hange raised their eyebrows, in all their years of friendship he had never bothered to learn their coffee order. Erwin was equally as surprised. You stared at Levi, unsure what to say.

“Alright, you got it,” Erwin said before grabbing your empty mug.

Levi and Erwin got up and walked to the front counter. Hange grabbed your arm and you looked at them surprised.

“How long have you known Levi?” They whispered.

“Uh, like I said, ‘know’ is a strong word but a couple of months. We just sit near each other and sometimes talk. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe Levi didn’t tell me he knew you,” Hange said in disbelief.

“Did you tell him about me?” You retorted

“No but still. If I knew my two friends knew each other, I would have set this study party together a long ass time ago.”

You shrugged and went back to looking at your notes. By this time, Levi and Erwin were walking back to the table. Erwin was holding a mug of tea and your coffee, Levi was holding a mug of tea in one hand and an apple muffin in another. Erwin handed you your coffee and you thanked him. He sat in front of you and Levi opposite of him. Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “how do you guys know each other?”

“We met in genetics class,” You responded.

“You’re a science major, too?”Erwin asked.

“No, I’m a humanities major but I still need my science requirement so I’m taking this class and majorly regretting it.”

“Hey, it’s not all bad. We’re friends now,” Hange nugged their elbow at you, you gave them a smile and nodded.

“What a reward,” Levi muttered.

You held back a laugh which made Levi smile, he hid it behind his book.

“How do the three of you know each other?” You pointed to the trio.

Hange shot up from their text book and exclaimed,“oh, (Y/N) you’re going to love this so it all started four years ago…”

It was their freshman year, Levi’s uncle had just dropped him off at the dorms and left him alone to unpack. Levi didn’t have much except for a suitcase of clothes, a bed sheet set and a small box of books. He started to put his clothes away in the drawers when the door opened and a lean, tall blonde boy and his father walked in, pulling a cart of the boy’s belongings.

“Hi, you must be my roommate. My name is Erwin,” he stood at the doorway awkwardly waving at Levi.

“Levi.”

“Hello, I’m Erwin’s dad, nice to meet you.”

Levi gave him a small smile and continued to organize his side of the room, it took about fifteen minutes in total. After Erwin’s dad left, Levi and Erwin sat on their respectives beds in silence. It took them awhile but eventually they bonded over their mutual love of Russian poetry. Over the next few weeks, they built a symbiotic relationship filled with chore charts and late night study hangs. Levi genuinely enjoyed Erwin’s presence, he was his first friend outside of his hometown. Erwin felt the same way too. He never had a huge opportunity to meet people since he was homeschooled until his final two years of high school. They had found a companion in each other.

The week before Thanksgiving break, Erwin convinced Levi to host a small gathering in their dorm. Levi hesitantly agreed and Erwin managed to get his hands on a weed brownie. They invited a few of their floormates and shared the goods and drank a single Mike’s Hard Lemonade that Hange brought. They sat on the concrete floor and waited for the weed to hit after thirty minutes, no one was high. One of their floormates, Zeke, took a whiff of the brownie and laughed.

“Erwin, this is a fucking regular brownie,” he glanced at Erwin who was tenderly sipping out of the bottle. Zeke’s roommate, Porco laughed.

“No, it can’t be,” Erwin responded. Hange looked around nervously and Levi glared at Zeke.

“Ha, whatever. This kickback is lame anyways. Let’s go,” Zeke and the others left.

Hange, Erwin, and Levi stayed in silence for a few minutes until Hange spoke, “I thought it was a good brownie.”

Erwin gave them a half-hearted smile and looked down at the bottle. Levi sighed and walked to his closet.

“Now that those fucktards are gone, let’s have a real party,” Levi said as he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Erwin looked at Levi, shocked. “How long have you had that?”

“My uncle gave it to me when he dropped me off. As a going away present.” Levi shrugged it off.

The rest of the night was spent taking shots of whiskey and playing cards games, it was the first night of many.

“Wait, really? Erwin you bought a dud brownie.” You held your side as you laughed.

Erwin looked sheepishly at his drink. Levi had a smirk on his face.

“Yeah! Looking back at it now, it’s the funniest thing ever. But those other guys were jerks. I don’t remember their names now or anything but I hope they’re living horrible lives,” Hange proclaimed.

“I believe it and I hope so too.” You wiped a tear from your face and felt Levi’s gaze on you.

Levi had never seen you laugh that hard, he liked this side of you. He went back to notating his book but he couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth in his chest. The four of you remained in comfortable silence for a while. The coffee shop began to slow down as the clock ticked further into the night.

“This has been a lot of fun but I think I’m going to call it,” Erwin’s deep voice broke the silence of the table.

The three of you nodded in agreement and began to pack your bags. You watched Levi’s slender fingers gently put his belongings into his tote bag. His dark hair was getting long, it brushed against his cheek as he moved his body. You looked away quickly, you knew nothing could happen between the two of you but watching him interact with his friends casted a new light on him. Levi, what a name, you thought. For the past couple months, he was your secret friend, someone you could talk to without feeling judged because he was so removed from your everyday life but now, it was different. You both shared a mutual connection and of course, you shared the countless hours spent in this cafe.

The four of you made casual conversation as you exited the cafe. The cold air whipped your face and you tugged your scarf tighter around your neck.

“Hey, do you need a ride? I’m parked a block away,” Erwin asked you.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’ll walk her home.” Hange winked at Erwin, Levi rolled his eyes.

“I live a few blocks away but thank you. It was really nice to meet you Erwin and Levi it’s nice to finally know your name.”

Levi looked down at the ground and a pink glow appeared on his face, “yeah, this was nice.”

You watched them turn around and walk in the opposite direction for a moment before turning to Hange. The air was cool and the clouds had parted, leaving open an endless sky peaking through the buildings and the trees. It had become a ritual for the two of you to walk home after study sessions since you lived a few blocks away from each other. Hange made casual conversation on your walk home but you hardly paid attention. You kept on thinking about Levi and wishing you never learned his name.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi art #aot #levi ackerman x reader fluff #modern levi ackerman #levi aot #aot fic #levi ackerman fic #levi lover fic #attack on titan fic #snk fic #college levi ackerman #new light

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annabethy · 4 years ago

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Percy Jackson Characters as Band Kids 2.0

based on experiences i WISH i didn’t have. i’ve been proposed to at a game by the opposing piccolo. in honor of my 20k word marching band au being posted tomorrow!

Percy

• looks unfairly hot in the marching uniform.

• would definitely be drum major and have all of the band falling in love over him.

• he would also be in the auditorium before a concert and jump off of a 10 foot ledge in the pit because he simply cannot take being in band anymore™️.

• would get up on the drum major podium and start dancing to stand tunes from the other band.

• gives high fives to all of the band right before the half-time show

• carries annabeth like a backpack during third quarter break

• him and annabeth go to meet the other drum majors in the band and are that fierce couple that every band is afraid of

• slut for big ballin

• is nearly murdered when a cheerleader does a backflip into his podium

• before halftime, “What time is it?” “HALFTIME” “What time is it?” “GAME TIME” “half time is game time Half Time Is Game Time HALF TIME IS GAME TIME”

Annabeth

• is the kid that is deadly good at their instrument and will murder you with a single look.

• you do not want to audition for the state band after her because she will tear you to shreds.

• she also happens to be dating the drum major, of course, and has the drum major wrapped around her finger.

• she is terrifying, and also happens to be the other drum major so the little kids have to ask her for help but are scared because she is very scary.

• plays piccolo and goes around telling people to “suck my picc”

• will yell at colorguard when they put a rifle on the wrong yard line during a show while every single woodwind is marching in a backwards curve.

• hates seven nation army with a passion

• flute chant. “flutes and piccs are h-o-t hot, we got something you ain’t got, we’re bad, we know it, we’re here to show it” cue screaming

• piccolo chant aka PICCS PICCS PICCS PICCS *INSTENSE SCREAMING*

Piper

• is that kid the hot bi. crushing on Annabeth and blatantly tries to steal her from Percy. but she’s just kidding (not really).

• she is the person that proposes to a kid that plays the same instrument from the other band.

• probably plays piccolo because Annabeth does.

• when it’s marching season, she will watch a woodwind step out of line and take down an entire row of clarinets and not move a single muscle. they all learn somehow.

• screams the words to sweet Caroline instead of playing

• “my name is piper. i play the picc. it’s really tiny. just like your di—

Jason

• is the band kid who thinks they are the best at their instrument

• they are actually the worst at their instrument

• probably a trumpet

• doesn’t get into all county and is like “but I’m so good it’s rigged” but he actually couldn’t even play his scales double octave oop couldn’t be me

• gets hit by the guard flags during a show and gets a concussion

• crushes on piper who tells him “i only date people good at their instruments.” he goes home and cries before reporting her to the band director for harassment

• fucks up solo at mpa. idk who gave him a solo to begin with

Leo

• first and foremost, he is percussion. during concert season, he tries to muffle the gong so he uses his whole body to do so. he succeeds in humping the gong.

• cadences over and over. and over.

• throws a drum stick at annabeth and bonks her on the head

• percy does not like that and takes the drum stick and hurls it at leo. hits him in the eye

• elf hats during the christmas parade

• DRUM BATTLES

• empties a water bottle at a game by crushing the plastic. chokes as he deepthroats the water

• “Annabeth you are so out of tune you’re making me want to stab my eardrums,” and in response, she says, “I’m going to play a high c right in your ear and teach you what decent fucking music sounds like”

Frank

• the one decent kid who apologizes when they run into someone

• helps the freshmen because no one else will

• refuses to participate in senior pranks

• once tries to help a brass player take a valve out but drops the instrument and dents it and starts crying

• brass captain

• he actually tries to save the line of woodwinds when colorguard misplaces a rifle during that backwards curve

• steps in the pile of fire ants. chaos ensues

Hazel

• sweetheart but lost.

• struggles with marching on beat but once she gets the hang of it, she has so much patience for helping others

• something tame, like the clarinet.

• never squeaks because she is an ICON

• people think she is nice and will sometimes tease her and she’s too nice to do anything but then when someone decides to take her reeds, she full on throws a stand at them.

• speaking of stands, she gets abnormally frustrated when they start to fall in front of her face. slowly slipping. creak. creak. creak.

• always very helpful at the football games. cares for people that pass out of heat stroke. always has a cooling towel just in case

• makes snide remarks to the cheerleaders when they can’t dance in time to crazy train (“it’s not that hard it’s literally 4/4”)(“I thought cheerleaders could at least count to 4?”)

• director thinks she is an angel but actually has no idea she’s constantly on her phone during rehearsal.

• “im using it as a tuner”

Connor

• HEY BABY. will point to Annabeth for “I wanna knowwwww if you’ll be my girl” to spite Percy

• laughs bc Percy is conducting and there is simply nothing he can do about it

• “what you gonna do Percy? Cut the band off because you’re jealous? do it I dare you”

• crazy trumpet that runs through the stands and promptly trips and tumbles down the bleachers until he hits the bottom. may kill one or two flutes in the process

• speaking of flutes, he enjoys sacrificing them. particularly annabeth. picks her up over his shoulder and dumps her in a trashcan

• gets on the metal podium during band camp and passes out off of it. a quick and painful journey the 6 feet to the ground.

Travis

• to Piper: “One time at band camp, I stuck a flute up my—”

• evil laughter when Annabeth narrowly dodges a guard saber

• he’s the leader of the senior pranks, offering those poor freshman cupcakes with ketchup and mustard frosting

• he also sets up the pentagram with the band directors family photos, and ties percy and annabeth dolls to drum major podiums. don’t ask.

• he definitely spills coffee on the band room carpet at least once,

• likes to surprise percy and annabeth when they sneak off during sectionals to “practice conducting” (he quickly proves they were, in fact, not practicing conducting)

Grover

• trips in the whole and screams about “WHY ARE THERE HOLES IN OUR MARCHING FIELD SOMEONE IS GOING TO DIE”

• chews on a metal can at a game and cuts his mouth open but is too scared to say anything as he bleeds from the mouth because he wasn’t supposed to have a soda can to begin with so he just plays with blood!

• ceo of “MAKE MONEY MONEY MAKE MONEY MONEY MONEY” “MARCHING BAND MARCHING BAND MARCHING BAND MARCHING BAND”

• gets HEATED at mpa because “WE CANNOT BE THE CLASS TO DESTROY OUR TEN YEAR STREAK OF STRAIGHT SUPERIORS”

• hangs with percy and annabeth, arms around each of them during the football games. loves them dearly.

• has a knack for interrupting percy and annabeth at the worst possible times. they’re in the uniform room? SURPRISE SHAWTY he’s there too “what are you doing? why is annabeth’s hair a mess? didn’t you just do those braids?”

#percabeth #percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians

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im-gettingby · 4 years ago

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30 Days of Carry On

posted (and written by?) @captain-aralias

(I’m doing most of these at once because I said so. it’s long so under the cut)

1. Favourite major character

I literally thought — Simon no Baz no Penny no, Agatha!

I guess I will pick Simon, since I relate to him the most — or at least, my connection to him led me into the fandom.

2. Favourite minor character

I think we all know this one 🐑🐑🐑

I have written many a treatise on Lamb Rights. I’ll spare everyone now

3. Character you relate to the most

Oops— I already answered this, kinda. I relate to them in different ways: I relate a lot to WS Simon because he has abandonment issues and “kid who was told he was extraordinary and then grew up to be ordinary” issues. We also both have a “fix all the things for everyone” complex, too.

Baz — It took me a while to get into Baz’s head, but I would say, I relate to him because of his intense emotional world and tendency to see the world through an intensely romantic/tragic lens. But also he’s a Pisces. and I’d never do that like a Pisces does. (Sorry, not sorry.)

4. Which character would you like to go to lunch with?

SHEPARD obviously. I don’t feel the need to elaborate.

5. Favourite non-Snowbaz ship

Ooh! Probably Lamb/Baz or Simon/Shep or just...literally anything. Like, I will read anything as long as it’s well written. The weirder the better. (Within...legal and moral limits.) in my other fandoms I’ve been a big multishipper and there’s not a lot of options for that in CO - which is fine - but wholeheartedly support rarepairs :D

6. Favourite non-romantic OTP

So, obviously Simon/Penny and Baz/Penny are great ones, but I think the nearest & dearest to my heart is Simon/Agatha. The kind of siblings/unwillingly dating/weird exes dynamic and the way they both shaped each other’s lives is just so interesting. And while Simon & Penny are closer, Agatha and Simon represent their aspirational selves to one another. And the way that they were both tied to one another along with their gender roles/places in society and both broke away at the same time is just...mwah

7. Favourite Baz outfit

I honestly dress kinda like Baz. Anything involving a printed silk shirt or a floral brocade suit, so like, all of them? I love WS Baz, his fashion sense is so thoughtful yet fun. He’s so expressive with it — in the sense of both being guarded, being sexy, and playing with masculinity/femininity.

8. How do you feel about Wayward Son?

In case it wasn’t obvious, I absolutely love it. I mean, from a writing/narrative standpoint, I don’t think it’s the most elegant or engaging book ever written, but it’s just so raw and fresh. I don’t see many examples of an author trying to do what Rainbow did, which is build a complex emotional AND plot-driven story with so many characters and so much lore. I’m very excited for AWTWB.

9. Favourite scene from Carry On, besides Chapter 61

I like what the book does/sets up overall. Honestly probably the first scene, where Simon walks to the bus stop & takes the train and just thinks about his life and makes lists -- I love Simon. I know Rainbow said she thinks that bit is boring, but it honestly says so much about his character in a short time. (and he’s an extremely complex character!) Also, Baz’s dramatic entrance. Also, the chapter where Baz says “and I’m hopelessly in love with him” because it’s just so dramatic, and it comes out of nowhere

10. Favourite scene from Wayward Son, besides Chapter 41

Baz and Lamb’s journey across the Strip - vampire lore, jealous Simon, Baz getting to be his own character— it’s beautiful.

11. Remind us about something in canon readers might have forgotten about

Ahahaha um. Simon says he thinks Baz’s cousin Marcus is fit. That’s pretty funny.

12. What are your hopes and fears for Any Way the Wind Blows?

I don’t have any hopes because I don’t want to be disappointed - and that’s not a cynical thing, I just want to go into it with an open mind. (I’ll take a break from fandom and reread the books beforehand so I’m (more of) a blank slate) I guess just...interesting emotional journeys, whatever that ends up being. There’s a lot that Rainbow has to do in the book and I don’t think any one person could get through all of it -- that’s why we have fanfiction.

Fears? I don’t know. I think just...the series ending. Even though I’ve been in fandom for less than a year I just really love this fandom & the thought of that kind of eroding away is sad. But also I don’t think that will happen immediately, and change is a part of life. I’ve never related as much to Cath as I do now :’)

13. An unpopular/cracky opinion you hold

unpopular: Lamb is the best character; I don’t want Simon to get his magic back; both Simon and Baz should have other romantic options.

14. Something from your head fanon

Hmmmmmmm well. Just mean things about Baz really. Like that he’s weird looking, not that great at football, and actually has kind of garish fashion sense. (which is a self-roast as well - see above.) I just feel like Simon/fandom put him on a pedestal, and Simon’s an unreliable narrator re: Baz anyway. So I like the idea that Baz is this average looking kinda strange nerdy guy who is everything Simon has ever wanted in life.

And before you tell me that Baz was hot at Watford and Agatha was into him, have you ever been to a tiny boarding school? Standards get weird 😂😂😂 and Terry being into him — come on. The guy’s a violent pervert.

also - back to Watford being a tiny school. Baz doesn’t have much competition to be the star of the football team. (also, does anyone except Simon even think that he is?)

16. Favourite location other than Watford

Vegas!

17, Favourite location in Watford

I’m pretty bad at Watford lore/geography bc again, I’m way more into WS. Probably the floor in the Cloisters where everything happens the same way, just a day later. There’s a fic there, but I can’t wrap my head around all the time travel implications enough to write it.

18. What would be your favourite subject at Watford?

Any potions-esque subject because I loved chemistry lab. Latin because I loved Latin in school. Uhhhh I don’t like history class, so not that — maybe a literature course focused on the derivation of spells.

19. What would your magical implement be?

Ooh! This is a good one. I’d like to think it would be a weird body piercing. Or a belt a la Gareth. Maybe some kind of traditional south Asian jewelry, like a nose chain or mang-tikka or something. maybe a hat. like, imagine your magical instrument being a fedora and you just have to...wear a fedora all the time.

21. Favourite canon spell

Hm. Kiss it better? Candle in the wind?I should try to think of a non-horny one. honestly they’re all so cool and clever - I love the magic system in CO/WS.

22. What would your eighth year spell at Watford be or do?

Maybe something from a poem I love. That would probably be pretty but not very functional. Or a healing spell.

23. Who would you want as your roommate?

Agatha is uptight, Penny is passive aggressive, Simon is a slob, Baz is both uptight and passive aggressive.

Definitely Shepard.

24. Favourite item of merchandise, official or unofficial

My @subparselkie sticker

25. Favourite book cover design

WS. Oh, another unpopular opinion - I don’t like the kevin wada cover of carry on. their faces look so weird and the colors don’t work for me. I own the version with the blue and yellow cover art instead

26. Do you want a movie? If yes - any fan casts for the movie?

Probably wouldn’t want a movie! Because I am way too possessive of these books/this version of the story. And I am historically extremely disappointed by adaptations — I get upset with the smallest of changes 😂

27. If they made a movie, what scenes do you think they’d cut that you’d be furious were missing?

See above. A LOT haha

28. If you could ask Rainbow Rowell one question, what would it be? (If you have already, you can share if you like)

What is Lamb’s full name????? Is it actually Lamb Lambert Lamborghini the third???

What is Rainbow’s relationship with sheep and goats. Why are there so many references to them

29. Have you read any of Rainbow’s other books?

Only Fangirl

30. How did you get into Carry On and/or Carry On fandom?

I read fangirl & the pages at the end mentioned carry on, so I read that, and enjoyed it but I wasn’t obsessed. Then I read WS spring 2020, reread it a bunch of times, reread CO, freaked out about the cliffhanger/cool vampire stuff/unresolved sexual tension, had pandemic cabin fever, got on AO3, and the rest is history.

As @annabellelux knows, I wrote my first (published) fanfic after reading her amazing fic Drop The Game. and the first fanfic I read was @captain-aralias’ Greener Grass. I was so obsessed that about a month later, I searched through the AO3 tags for it, because I couldn’t remember the title or author but kept thinking about it.

#tag game #30 days of carry on

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rrrawrf-writes · 4 years ago

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lordy lordy loo it’s been a hot minute since i’ve made an original post, i forgot where the button was

so. some of you may have seen the stuff running around about violetvineyard and mvcreates, some of you may not have. i’m just gonna lay out my experiences here, now that other people are talking about it and now that the server has been deleted. i’m gonna try to present a fair and nuanced version; i’m not gonna include screenshots (right now) bc i’m lazy, mostly.

there are several other people who are putting up way better breakdowns than i am. i just figured i might as well toss mine onto the pile bc why not? but if you’re hoping to hear from me a story about how i’ve been wronged, per se, you won’t find much of one, because i played mainly a spectator role, and never had much trouble there. i will have a vague, lukewarm defense of some of the people involved that other people may not agree with, but again, this is all just the whole VV deal from my point of view.

@nuwuhorizons (i haven’t said how dang much i lOVE your url) and @sapiencenotes have very good receipts and breakdowns. if you want a more in-depth (and dramatic, forgive me for using the word, i’m not trying to downplay this), check them out. @time-to-write-and-suffer also has some great stuff on their blog about all of this.

all righty. so. i joined VV not right at the beginning, but soon after it was started. there was an application process, i got accepted, i was looking for a community to help me start writing more. (it didn’t help, but that’s not their fault, that’s mine.) the person who owned the server was called mina, and on tumblr, mina’s url was mvcreates. mina is a nonbinary Muslim woman of color, a professional who i believe works at harvad and deals a lot with things like infectious diseases, iirc. she was doing a whole lot of work when the pandemic came around, and so the past few months wasn’t quite as active as she had been at the start, both on the server and tumblr.

the very first time mina came on my radar, before i joined vv, was because she had corrected someone’s typo on a post, and it stirred up a minor drama about “don’t give unsolicited criticism” and “is pointing out minor errors like that okay” and blahblahblah. i ran across that on a friend’s dash, and also ran across the promo for vv from that friend’s dash, as well, and joined bc y not.

everything was p cool for a while. it was nice to meet some new people and some of my mutuals on there. mina seemed like a fun person. she was about a year, year and a half, maybe, older than i am. the first things that kind of started rubbing me wrong at the start was how she would kind of dismiss suggestions for the server than i and a friend had, and how she kept bringing up her age - she would often say things like “well i wouldn’t do that but i’m an Old(TM) so maybe i just don’t get it” and i can’t really explain why that bothered me. i think it felt dismissive, like Younger Folks Don’t Know How Things Should Work. also, like. she kept bringing it up. as if it meant something, as if plenty of us on that server weren’t actually around her age. there was a convo on vaccinations where i wanted to make the point that a lot of anti-vaxxers should be educated instead of ridiculed and shamed, but i never really got to making that point bc she jumped in very sharply and explained that anti-vaxxers all come from a class of people who are generally educated. i didn’t bother saying anything else.

at the start, it was tiny little things like that. i chalked it up to her personality and mine just not quite matching up. i sat down a lot and examined my own internal biases, bc i knew something was bugging me, but i couldn’t tell if it was legitimate, or if i was jealous and petty, or if i was being discriminatory towards her identity. i still wonder that a lot; i want to be careful that i’m examining her actions here, and not the person who made those actions.

because the other thing that bothered me was that she was perfect at pretty much everything. she was a decent, if not good, writer, from what i read. i thought her “art”/edits were neat, even if sometimes i looked at them going “that just looks like an edit, not your own art, but u kno, edits are art too, so i’m not gonna say anything.” she had a lot of motivation, a lot of ambition. soon, this kind of transferred over into me feeling like she acted like she had to be perfect at everything. i think this is probably one of the more “lisa is just being petty” things, rather than a judgement on her character, but she seemed to flaunt her own skills and accomplishments a lot. not that no one is allowed to brag sometimes! but it was just another layer of “this bothers me.”

then there was the hero worship.

people in the server loved mina. i liked her. i had no problems with her, even if there were a few things i was a little “ehhhh” about. vv got pretty big, pretty quickly, and i assume there was a decent amount of turnover and people who just joined to lurk or sometimes share things in the promos channel or elsewhere. but the most active folks just. they adored mina with every fiber of their being. mina could do no wrong. no one ever called her out on anything; everything she did was hailed as fantastic and wonderful. and honestly, for the most part, it wasn’t like she was doing crappy stuff. some of the praise was well-deserved, imo, but it just bordered on embarrassing for some of these people, how much they just worshipped the ground she walked on.

and she didn’t really like, discourage it. like, at the start, i think i remember her being more modest, but in general, she just let it go, and so did i, bc like. i aint that kinda jerk.

the stated purpose of violetvineyard was to have a community that valued reciprocity. reciprocity was mina’s biggest thing. there was a channel for people to post their stuff on, so the rest of us could browse and read and reblog. i, admittedly, didn’t do as much of that as i wish i did, but part of it was because i do have a life outside of the internet, a memory and attention span the size of a gnat, and because like. 90% of the stuff that people put in the promos channel were things like edits, writeblr intros, wip intros, etc etc, when all i wanted was to just read some actual writing. but that’s neither here nor there. what got hilarious to me, though, was whenever mina’s fervent admirers would talk about how mina was, quote, a pillar of the community. how vv was doing something No Other Writeblr Group Had Done Before. how Important and Special this server was.

folks. i’ve been on here for several years now. we don’t have a community. we have a bunch of little cliques who reblog from their friends and complain about people not reblogging them. noah fence, but come on. vv got pretty dang big, but it was still a small corner of a small section of tumblr. like. sorry, all y’all, but them’s the breaks.

also, this was hilarious to me bc there are several big writeblrs who have been running around long before mina and vv showed up. yet, according to these people in the server, mina had Single-handedly Brought Hope To This Desolate Wasteland.

in the end, vv became just another little clique whose members reblogged from their friends. i don’t want to devalue the good that did come out of vv. a lot of the picture being painted rn was that the majority of the server were scary dog-piling people. the majority of the server were just writeblrs looking to promo their stuff and talk about their writing. unfortunately, few bad apples, bad rep, negatives outshine positives, etc etc. but i think it did do some good re: exposure for a few folks, even tho it didn’t turn into what it could have been.

another one of the things that was a minor irritant to me was that they eventually started archiving the vent channel, which was probably the most-used channel. that didn’t sit right to me, but as always, i was a coward had nothing to say about it, so i didn’t. the reason given was that there were often things in the vent channel that people might regret being there, so it was periodically archived and a fresh channel started.

so i’m rambling a lot about stuff that’s probably boring and inconsequential. that’s 90% of this whole vv thing, tho, you need to understand that.

the biggest thing that bothered me about mina, i think, came about from the constant hero worship from her adoring fans. and i know there’s a whole argument to be said about expecting labor from people with marginalized identities, which is an argument i agree with - don’t expect someone of a minority group to educate you or to face trauma or to shut down bigots, etc etc. but by now, mina had a lot of followers in general, and in specific, she had quite a few people who would defend her at every single perceived slight.

she made a lot of those fun writeblr reblog games, like “send me a fruit that says this about my writing.” those were cool, i’ll admit that. but she was super into “you have to send an ask to the person you reblog from, RECIPROCITY!!!!!!!!!!!” and seemed to struggle with the fact that sometimes, people don’t follow her established rules on her posts for these games. she’d complain about it every single time that happened in the vent channel, which, again, that’s fine? that’s what vents are for, it’s annoying to not get cool fun asks when you do these games, but also, that’s life for you. she could depend on her fans to send her plenty of asks, whereas the much smaller blogs who reblogged these games would probably get f-all, half the time. if you’ve gone through nuwuhorizons or one of the other blogs i mentioned earlier, you’ll have run across the incident where mina’s friends harrassed an 11 year old for not doing her ask game right.

an eleven year old.

and this is my biggest grief with mina. she only stopped her friends from dogpiling people... once? maybe twice? that i remember. and not only that, but there were SEVERAL occasions where she would get on the vent channel, complain about someone who had said something wrong on one of her posts (and sometimes, again, these were legitimate!), and then ask if someone in the server wanted to reply to them. reasons for such ranged from “i’m too busy rn” to “they would probably listen more to a white person than me.”

again. this, on occasion, is not necessarily a bad thing. we cannot expect labor and response from minorities. my issue was that she kept doing this. and sometimes it was fine, just someone who would drop a note on the post or send a polite anon. but this, to me, the whole asking someone else to fight your battles for you? that really bothered me. mina is a grown adult. either ignore it, like the rest of us chumps, or deal with it yourself. having friends support you is not a bad thing - if i was attacked on tumblr and my friends jumped in to defend me, i’m cool with that. but i wouldn’t ask them to, and then not do anything myself.

to me, this attitude just encourages dogpiling. this felt like she was taking advantage of the people admiring her so whole-heartedly, and using them to deal with minor grievances. (again, i don’t want to downplay some of the actual racism and xenophobia she experienced on this website, because there was some pretty sketchy stuff that did need someone else stepping in to object to. but then there was “ugh this person asked me what program i use to make my music and i don’t want to answer them bc that’s rude,” and stuff of that caliber. like, mina, you built yourself a pretty big following here on tumblr, you don’t get to complain when people are trying to ask you questions and engage with you when you set yourself up as a knowledgeable person on a subject.)

i’m going to mention @gingerly-writing because she already made a post on the subject, but there was an instance where we were in the vent channel and watched a lot of mina’s friends send anons and reblogs of a hurtful nature to one person. eventually, ginger stepped in to say “hey, i don’t think we need to keep doing this, they are a minor,” and after she did so, i also jumped in, saying something along the lines of, “yeah, i’ve seen this kind of stuff blow up in another server and end in a really regrettable situation where no one was happy, can we stop.” both ginger and i received a private message from the mods (individually) saying that we shouldn’t police the chat, etc etc. not during that message, but on the vent channel, another mod jumped in to say that the people dogpiling the blogger were also minors. as if that makes it okay, and isn’t actually extremely worrying in its own right.

after that, i pretty much took a stance of “all right then i just won’t say anything at all.” i stuck around vv because i hated myself actually really liked a few of the others in the server, including a couple of the mods who are actually really cool people, not all the vv mods are sketch, and because honestly? i lowkey knew that vv was going to crash and burn sometime, and i wanted to be there to watch what happened. due to the pandemic, and her line of work, mina became less active, and the whole server died down a bit.

then someone reblogged one of mina’s ‘art’ posts and accused her of tracing. mina’s admirers immediately jumped into action. nuwuhorizons has it pretty well documented on their blog. there was nothing in the server about it, except one of the others said “oh man i saw that and it pissed me off,” there was some minor chat, and then i woke up and wanted to know what had happened, and was told “don’t worry about it.”

so, naturally, bc the only thing i thirst for is water and Drama(TM), i went looking for it.

found it on some of mina’s friend’s blogs, where i found who had reblogged and said mina was tracing, and followed those reblog chains, where several of mina’s followers attacked the accuser and made fun of their name and age and defended mina, pulling out progress videos and stuff of mina’s work. the accuser was trans and still a teenager, even if technically an adult, so that made things a lot worse. mina eventually posted something explaining that she was pencil tracing and had a very cheery, false-positive tone to the whole thing.

things sorta ended at that, but then maybe the same day, or the day after, user hyba made that big ol post about the Big Scary Tumblr Mirror Website Copying All Your Good, Hard Work. mina and her friends jumped on this. they threw it in the server and talked about things like intellectual property rights and “i don’t like how this makes me feel :(” and from there, went in to how tumblr was a terrible garbage site and then mina and most of the mod team decided that it was time to pack up VV and leave tumblr completely.

pretty much everyone i know were mina’s besties have vanished off tumblr. mina made an announcement that VV was “migrating” off tumblr and discord(???) and dropped another application to join the great vv migration. i did not apply bc i just have too freaking much going on in my life and needed to get out of this for the sake of my own mental health. it was tempting as hell, tho, i will say that.

a couple things about this - at the time, mina is also having some pretty bad things going on in her family. she was very vague on the details, but i think that really contributed to wanting to leave; on top of the pandemic and everything else, she was probably heckin stressed. but also like. she never called out her followers for attacking her accuser. she never made any sort of post talking about it. she never told her friends on the server “hey don’t do that.” she never took accountability for it, or, honestly, for anything else she or her friends have done that didn’t feel too good. the mirror sites aren’t really a big deal.

after the server was archived, it was left up a couple days so everyone could grab contact info, etc. during this time, i was checking the ‘violetvineyard’ tag and saw someone post “what happened to mvcreates they haven’t answered my application to vv,’ and i responded with “oh, the server closed down bc of the copy cat sites.”

the same day, i got a tumblr DM from one of the former mods asking me not to give away any details about vv leaving tumblr. it was very politely worded and everything, but it was still just like

okay? vv is over? why are you asking me not to say anything. and it wasn’t like i was even spilling any hot goss, i was just repeating the excuse (and i do mean excuse) mina gave us.

anyway, that mod is off tumblr, too, as far as i know, or else they stealthin. which is fine, u do u, buddy.

uhh conclusion time, i guess? i have a few scattered screenshots of things, but i’m not posting em bc i’m lazy and also running late for a thing. but really, for me, i didn’t have a whole lot of beef with mina or pretty much any of the other folks on vv. i thought that mina and her friends were a bit too eager for blood, and that really bothered me. i’m annoyed they shut down vv completely, because it could actually have been something great. if mina wanted off writeblr, i wish she had given the whole network over to people interested in running it; instead, what was a good thing for a lot of people is now completely gone, with no existing framework for people to build on. sure, anyone can go make their own network/family for writeblr, but now it’s just going to splinter into a bunch of different, smaller groups, and we’re all back to square one.

but whatever. i didn’t get to see the server go down in flames, instead it just ended with a hasty retreat and a few whimpers, and quite honestly i wished my staying in had paid off.

i do want to reiterate - there were quite a few people in vv who i think are great, and this does include some of the mods themselves.

i’ve also gotten a couple messages from a few other folks who had been in vv who have their own real, real sketch stories, which are making me rethink how i feel about mina and her friends, and all the good credit i gave them. i just wanted to present this bc it’s my blog and i do what i want, fight me.

and if anyone wants to chat about vv, hit me up. i keep things as private as you want them to be, and i love love love talking about this nonsense. Give Me The Deets.

#violetvineyard #vv drama #long post #sorry not sorry #i just wanted to give a touch more balanced view on vv #i have a few other things i could talk about but none are really worth the effort

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asteriismos · 5 years ago

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Next Door Neighbor -- Bill Denbrough

Authors Note : y’all know I love bill ;)) he’s my fav and that won't change. this also randomly turned into kinda fluffy smut but oops

Warning(s) : eighteen! losers club, masturbation, fluffy smut, a little OOC for bill, yet another reason I'm going to hell

Request :

Ik you just wrote two Bill smuts, but imagine being neighbors and best friends with bill and your bedroom windows are right next to each other. and then he watches you masterbate and the next day he’s acting all weird bc he didn’t know you do things like that and he’s never thought of you in that way. and when you ask him why he’s acting so weird he just snaps and is like "you should really close your window" or something like that bc 🥵

“I’m just saying, she’s not that bad if you look at her from the side,” Richie Tozier said to Bill over the walkie talkie line. It was getting late, around 10 pm, and Richie had been on the walkie with Bill for an hour. Talking on walkie talkies was a little childish, but that was all of the losers favorite way of getting a hold of each other.

Bill laughed to himself, pulling out the chair to his desk and sitting down. “I’m going to pretend you’re not talking about Stan’s mom and politely ask you to change the subject.”

There was laughing on the other line, “Fine, Bill. Let’s see . . . Oh! How’s Y/N? She come back from her spring break trip yet?”

Much to the losers dismay, you had gone on a spring break trip with your family all the way down to Florida. You were gone for the entire week and a half, not being able to even call them on the phone or the walkie. Apparently it was a ‘no technology’ vacation for your entire family, so none of your friends could even call you to see how you were doing.

It also sucked for Bill, because he didn’t have anyone to talk to when he was up late drawing or writing.

You had lived next to Bill for what felt like forever, your bedroom windows facing each other. Bill had put his desk to face that window so he could sit down as he spoke to you, who put your bed next to the window in your room to do the same. It was kinda depressing seeing you not there every day, your lights off and door open to your empty house.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t checked to see if she came home yet,” Bill answered. He went to push back his curtains and open his window to see that your family was home. Your room was lit up and an open suitcase was laying on top of your bed, clothes strewn around the room. Your window was open wide just like his, but you weren't there to say hi. “Oh yeah, she’s home. But not in her room, she must’ve gone to take a shower or something.”

“Damn, you’re so lucky that you have a window that looks into a girls room,” Richie said. Bill scoffed, of course Richie would think that.

“Actually, I don’t go looking into her room every second I get, so maybe she’s the lucky one. She could’ve gotten you as a neighbor,” Bill said, grabbing a pencil and reverting his attention to the paper that he was supposed to finish up over the break. He had left it to the last minute, like he was sure a majority of his class did as well.

“You know I’m just joking . . .” Richie trailed off. “But you’re telling me you’ve never even peeked? Not once?”

Bill bit his lip. He really hadn’t. He respected your privacy, and didn’t want to get caught doing something like that and labeled as some kind of pervert by you. He didn’t want to make you feel creeped out or upset at him, so he just didn’t. Has he been interested before to just take one little peek? Yes, but he never acted upon it.

“Nope, not once Rich,” Bill answered. “Isn’t it time for you to have your late night talk with Eds anyways?”

“Shit, you’re right. He’s going to think I just left him on his open line. Thanks Bill, and goodnight.” Bill muttered a small ‘mhm’ and left Richie’s line.

For the next ten minutes, Bill bullshitted his way through the closure of the essay, looking up once he heard a door open. His first instinct was to look at his own door, but it seemed to be coming from your door in your own room. You walked in, covered by only a towel. Your wet hair stuck to your shoulders, which had gotten considerably tan since he last saw you.

Bill was quick to do what he always did, shut his curtains so that you could have some privacy while changing in your room. He usually kept them closed for a good half an hour so he knew that you were finally done changing. And once his curtains were closed, he heard your towel drop to the floor.

The words Richie said to him were beginning to ring in his head. Especially the ones about just peeking.

No, that would be stupid. He couldn’t do that to you, especially considering the very definite possibility that you would catch him. You’d get so mad, and Bill didn’t want that.

Well . . . It wouldn’t hurt if he just looked for a split second, right? It would be fine, you were probably already done changing and he could then strike up a conversation with you and pretend that he didn’t just try to be a peeping tom.

Channelling his inner ‘Richie’ or whatever you wanted to call it, Bill opened his curtain just a tiny bit, enough to see into your room with one eye. At first he didn’t see you, maybe you had gone downstairs.

But then he heard moaning.

Oh fuck.

Bill then saw you, real clear. You were laying on your bed, hand in between your thighs and moaning quietly. Your door was closed and you had surprisingly left your window open. Bill couldn’t believe what he was seeing and he was about to shut the curtain and forget this had happened completely, that was until he heard his name come from your lips. It was quiet, but it was definitely his name. You were imagining him. That his fingers were inside you and not your own.

To say that his pants tightened would be an understatement.

Bill couldn’t believe that you thought about him in that way. Sure, he had thought about that type of stuff before, and thought about the possibility of him having sex with you. But that was all just stupid stuff that his friends fed to him, that you liked him. That you would look at him with longing in the hallways at school and in the science class you had together. You always acted like you didn’t when you hung out with the entire group, but looking at the position you were in right now, it looked like that was all an act.

Maybe he should do something about that.

~ the next morning ~

It was the last day of spring break before you went back to school for the remainder of your last high school year and you were looking forward to spending it with your best friends. You hadn’t seen them all break since you left to vacation in Florida, and you were dying to speak to them and hang out with them again.

You wanted to talk to Bill last night, but he seemed to have gone to bed early, since you called him on the walkie and he didn’t pick up. Which was strange, Bill was always the one to go to sleep in the early hours of the morning - especially during breaks from school.

Oh well, you’d see him today anyways.

Your parents had gone out a few minutes ago for the day. They needed to get some things done on Main Street and also go shopping since you all cleaned out your fridge before going on vacation. That was fine with you, considering you didn’t plan on being home at all today.

You walked outside of your house and looked around the street, breathing in the fresh air of Derry that you had surprisingly missed while you were away. Florida was pretty, but it didn't matter, Derry would always be in your heart. It was sad to think that soon enough you would be leaving this small town for college very soon, all of your friends would leave and go their separate ways.

Your vision turned to Bill’s front porch where he sat, reading some kind of book. You chuckled to yourself. Typical Bill, head in a book unless you or one of the losers pulled him out of it.

“Hey, Bill! Long time no see,” You yelled to him, making your way towards him and stopping at his steps onto the porch. He looked up and closed his book, shoulders obviously tensing up about something. He seemed to be thinking about something pretty important, especially since once he made eye contact with you his eyes widened. “Is something wrong?” You asked.

“No! I just didn't see you come up that’s all,” Bill replied, standing up to face you.

You laughed, “Okay, well, I actually was going to wait until I was with everyone, but Eds said that he needed a few extra minutes so I guess I can give you your gift now.”

Bill cleared his throat, “You got me a gift?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember asking for some shells? I swear you were the first one to ask.”

Bill breathed out, seemingly remembering that conversation he had with you after break. You squinted your eyes at him as he nodded his head. “Okay,” you said, a little weirded out by his behavior. Bill was never the one to forget, there must be something distracting him. “They’re in my room, c’mon.”

A few minutes later, Bill was standing in your room as you looked through your suitcase. You still had yet to finish unpacking, so everything was still all jumbled around in the rather large suitcase. You passed some shirts and threw some pants out, finally finding the bag that you had collected seashells in. You had spent an entire day looking for them for your friends, making sure that they were the coolest ones that you could find.

“Here,” You said, pulling out the bag and turning to face him. Bill was looking out your window, the same one that looked into his room.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting so goddamn weird?

“Bill, are you sure nothing’s wrong? Because your acting like I killed your cat,” You said, setting down the bag of seashells on your desk and putting your hands on your hips. “What is wrong with you today?”

“You should really close your window.”

It was a mumble, a whisper. You weren't even sure if you heard him correctly.

“What did you say?” You asked him.

“I said, Y/N, that you should really close your goddamn window.”

In a few short seconds, Bill walked over to you and put his hands on your cheeks, grabbing you and pulling you into a kiss. It shocked you, but you felt yourself melt into it. What did he mean about closing you window? You were sure that you had - oh shit.

You had forgotten to close your window last night. When you got out of the shower, when you were touching yourself.

He pushed you to walk towards your bed, falling on top of you when the back of your legs hit the bed and sent you flying backwards on top of it. Your hands lazily ran through his hair, earning a slight groan on his end. It was soft, way better than you imagined it to be.

Because you’d imagined it more times than you were willing to admit. That hadn’t been the first time you touched yourself thinking about your next door neighbor Bill Denbrough.

Your best friend, Bill Denbrough.

“Wait, Bill wait,” you said, pulling away from his lips and moving your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re my best friend. I mean, we practically grew up together.” His eyes looked straight into yours, his flushed cheeks tightening as he grinned, “Well, the other losers are your best friends as well. Do you masterbate thinking about them too? Do I need to be jealous of Eddie, or maybe Stan?” You rolled your eyes, laughing and hitting him playfully.

“No. Just you, stupid,” You answered, your own cheeks reddening at the fact that he caught you doing such a thing. You had been careless last night.

“Well then, maybe I can be more than a best friend then,” Bill stated, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, sucking lightly on the exposed skin. You gasped at the contact, your hands once again running through his hair and pulling at it.

“What I’m trying to say, Bill, is that you’re my best friend and you don’t have to do anything,” You replied. “You don’t have to do anything just because I want to.”

“Y/N, let’s just say that you’re not the only one that’s touched themselves thinking about the person with the window next to theirs,” Bill said against your skin, his hands reaching under your shirt. His hands palmed at your breasts. “I want this just as badly as you do.”

And with that, you stopped talking and allowed him to pull off your shirt, exposing your tanned skin and white laced bra. He did the same with his shirt, pulling it off and once again allowing his hands to go to your chest.

Your lips went to his shoulder, peppering kisses along his skin, admiring the slight freckles that were there. His touches were soft, meticulously made, like he didn't want to hurt you for any reason. You internally swooned at the kindness he showed you, the love that you felt within his touch. Both of you had never seen each other in this context before, and it was a little confusing at first to think that the boy you grew up with was now in your bed.

His left hand went from your chest and snaked down to the waistband of your pants and slipping past it when you tugged on his hair to continue. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, watching as your face twisted from admiration to lust, all from the pleasure that he was giving you. He took in every soft noise that you made, his lips coming and kissing yours once again as he slipped another finger in. His pace was beginning to pick up as well, and you couldn’t believe how much easier it felt to get to the brink of your climax when it was Bill’s hand instead of yours.

The pit began to form in your stomach, the one that you always felt happen with yourself in over three minutes, but this time with Bill it had barely been two minutes and you already felt like you needed to release.

Realizing this, he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean and then pulling his pants and boxers off, doing the same with your pants and underwear.

“I want it to happen when I’m inside you, princess,” he whispered, sparing no time to push into you. You gasped at the sudden pain you felt, tears threatening to slip from your eyes and he wasn't even moving yet. Could you even take him? He wasn't all the way in yet, and you were already feeling pain like no other.

After a few moments, the pain began to feel tolerable, it even felt a little good.

“You can move,” you said to him, nodding and putting your hands on his shoulders. It felt as if your hands were made to be placed there, they fit so nicely on his body.

Bill began to move and it still hurt like a bitch, his hand went down and played with your clit, alleviating some of the pain and replacing it with pleasure. The shockwave of pleasure you were experiencing caused you to moan out, his own groans and noises starting to match yours.

Your high was coming, fast. The more Bill played with your cit and the deeper he went made you spiral higher and higher.

“Fuck babe, you’re so tight. You feel so good,” Bill said, kissing you once again.

That’s when your orgasm hit, and you hit it hard. You moaned into his mouth, your hands squeezing his shoulders as you rode it out. You began to move your hips with his, causing him to go deeper than he had ever gone before. That’s when he came, moaning out your name.

He rolled off of you and laid there next to you, muttering words of praise while you both laid there. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Well, Denbrough, if that’s what is going to happen every time I keep my window open, then I may never just close it ever again.”

Tagging List :

@big-dick-denbrough

@cupidsloverr

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough smut #smut #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #it #IT movie #it movie 2019 #it movie 2017 #it movie imagine #it movie x reader

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zmwrites · 4 years ago

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tag: 20 first lines

I was tagged by @teasenpaiwrites! Thank you!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag others!

I was tagged in a similar game LITERALLY forever ago by @scmalarky PRE-BLOG MOVE, which makes it the oldest tag game sitting my drafts. It came with the following rules:

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I put it off bc to date I’ve only published two stories over on Wattpad. So doing the first lines from the last twenty projects is somehow...easier? I suppose?

I’ll be putting the opening paragraph or so of each piece, and will only be using WIPs that I actually started at the beginning. Anything that doesn’t start at the actual beginning will be skipped.

Anyways, this is going under a cut bc I know it’s going to be ridiculously long. In order of ‘last modified by me’ as per Google Docs:

Remnants

Radka had been a seamstress in a previous life. Trained from childhood on the most delicate stitches, the most intricate embellishments. She had worked for royalty, sewing crystals and spun gold into skirts for the biggest social events of the year. Her steady hand and attention to detail had earned her a job in the palace by fourteen, and a spot on the queen’s personal seamstress team by fifteen. But that was years in the past. The girl she had been then, demure and innocent, wouldn’t recognize the woman she had grown up to be.

Open Seas

Theresia Bowen sat in the back of one of her family carriages, forehead pressed against the window as she watched the countryside fly past. The sky stretched on forever above her, interrupted only by the occasional wispy white clouds, and the spring sun had melted the snow from the hills to her left. The grass was still struggling to grow but was scattered in patches across the mud. To her right, the sea rolled and waved to the horizon. Ships dotted the deep blue, their sails bright and full with wind. Most were trading ships, a few navy, and the smallest of them all were pleasure ships. It was how she knew they were close to her destination.

Indigo Wars

Violet Colby sat cross-legged on her narrow bed in the room she shared with her two sisters at Osbrick Estate. The name was a holdover from the property’s previous life as a stately home, though not much else had carried over. The walled compound was nestled in the eastern sands of Edristan, less than two kilometres west of the capital city, with sun-bleached buildings that housed several dozen orphans and foundlings.

Pine Hollow

It was a miserable Monday morning, with dark, heavy clouds masking the rising sun and a steady rain pounding the town of Pine Hollow and the surrounding area. The dirt trails through the dense forest were slick with mud, the tire ruts becoming puddles and the puddles becoming proper ponds. It was as far from ideal body hunting conditions as possible without snow, but Virginia Crane had a job to do and she wasn’t about to let some adverse weather stop her.

Rochester WIP

The wedding was supposed to begin in five minutes and the bride was nowhere to be found.

Evelyn Rochester, for her part, was not surprised. Her sister Dorothea had claimed a headache a week earlier to get out of a family outing and had been gone by the time they’d returned. A small chest and a collection of her clothing had been gone as well. Their parents had made inquiries to some family friends but no one had seen Dottie, and at twenty-six she was allowed to do as she pleased, so they’d been left to wait to see if she’d return.

Just Jane

Jane rolled over in the narrow bed, pressing her face into the pillow as though it would make it any easier to sleep. Even as she breathed in the warm, sweet scent of the bed owner’s favourite perfume—myrrh, rose, styrax, and marjoram—a new sound made her ears prick to attention.

UNSS Spectre

The spacecraft glided through the void, following its prey silently. It was using its minimum operating power, leaving the two inside to perform their duties without overhead or emergency lighting. Only the glow of their instruments illuminated the interior of the craft.

“Cloaking device operating as normal,” Ensign Graecyn Ramsey said. She didn’t need to provide verbal updates since Captain Mezei could see everything that she could see and there was no one else aboard the tiny stealth class craft, but it was habit and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Fissures

Katherine Delacroix was seething. It was hard enough trying to get a gaggle of thirteen to eighteen year old girls to focus under normal circumstances but having the #1 most eligible bachelor of the school just hanging out at the back of the auditorium was making it nearly impossible. To make matters worse, the attention paid to the blond was bruising the egos of the boys in the group and she was painfully aware of how desperately the musical needed them not to quit. They already had a female Cogsworth and Le Fou; they didn't have enough girls with deep voices to play Gaston or Lumiere or, god forbid, Beast.

Snapshots

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” Misha asked, voice muffled slightly by whatever she was doing on the opposite end of the phone.

“You mean since you stole my last one? Yes,” Micah replied. He was stuck in traffic on his commute home from work, something his twin sister Misha knew, which was why she’d called when he had no excuse not to talk to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to her, he just wasn’t much of a talker.

“You’re gonna have to get over that,” she said.

The Tournament

The coin spun in lazy circles on the table, defying every law of physics. Izora Graham watched it with one hand held in a claw-like position over it. She didn't need to but it made it easier to cover the coin should anyone watch it too closely. The bar was still fairly empty so early in the evening and she was tucked away in the back booth away from the few early birds sitting at the counter, however any displays of magic would bring unwanted attention. Especially something that could be useful to any of the Upper Houses like her telekinesis.

Noyama Contest

Earthens had spread across dozens of galaxies once they’d perfected faster-than-light travel, and hundreds of solar systems within those galaxies. PT-759 was one of the galaxies they’d colonized only to find that it was already inhabited. It had ended up working out alright though, as the native species had radically different planetary needs and also happened to find Earthens downright adorable.

Naetov was a smaller planet at the edge of Federation-controlled space in PT-759. It had a few key cities where government funding was funneled to keep them perfect for non-Earthen tourists. Those cities were clean and friendly, open spaces and carefully maintained flora making up the downtown cores, streamlined designs and shiny surfaces giving the impression of a planet on the cusp of significance.

Gossamer Girl

It was the first day of winter and things were already looking bad. Even though the cold weather had held off for an extra two weeks, the harvest had been poor. A mold had festered in their southern field during the wet spring and had spread quickly. They’d razed the infected sections as soon as the fungus had been discovered but it had already destroyed a large swath of plants. They’d lost nearly a quarter of their usual yield and the troubles had only spiralled from there.

Knotted Strings

The room was just a bit too cold to be comfortable. The walls were wood panelled with some sort of reddish wood that matched the flooring. Rows of chairs with collapsible desks filled most of the lecture hall, with the front of the room dominated by a whiteboard and a table. The professor, hawkish in appearance, was perched on a bar stool facing the students and overlooking the table.

Tess lounged in her seat at the table at the front of the room, notebook open on the table in front of her and pen moving deftly across the page. She watched her competition critically as he spoke. His argument was solid enough to cast reasonable doubt on her case, or it would have been had he bothered to address a small piece of evidence she found to be damning. He finished his conclusion to a spatter of applause and returned to his seat across from her.

“Well done, Mr. Wynn. Miss Kinney, would you like a few moments to prepare your rebuttal?” the professor asked.

“No, I’m good,” Tess replied. She sat up, scribbled a note in her book, and then pushed the book across the table.

Oh, Ophelia

Alexis lounged in the shade next to the pool, sipping a daiquiri and considering her next move. She’d been using the same identity for nearly fifteen years and the neighbours were starting to get suspicious. With all the new beauty products and surgeries available to people of her wealth it was easier to convince people she was nearing forty when she was in the body of a twenty-three year old, but now she had to deal with people asking for her skincare routines and her doctors and the identity wasn’t worth all of the research she was having to do. She was getting sick of Malibu anyways, what with the yearly forest fires that got closer each year. She missed the deep-rooted history of Europe, the memories she had in all of the major cities, the people like her who were still living in their castles and manors pretending like the world hadn’t left them behind.

Bloodlines

Ten of Wands. The Tower. Two of Swords.

Morrigan Keeling sat on the floor of her bedroom, chewing the end of a pen and staring intently at the tarot cards spread in front of her. It was a simple three card spread to indicate how her day was going to go: a card to describe herself, one to indicate what was going to greet her, and another to show the outcome of the situation. She’d gotten into the habit of doing it every day while living at home, and even five years after moving out she found it a relaxing routine to start the day.

The day’s cards, however, were not very relaxing.

PerDeA

The backseat of the car was dark, only illuminated for short intervals by the orange glow of the streetlights. Two figures sat across from each other in the shifting light. In the backwards-facing seat on the driver’s side was PerDeA. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, lips slightly parted as she stared unblinking out the back window. Shoulders square, back straight, chin up, hands folded neatly in her lap, her breathing perfectly rhythmic; she would have looked human if not for the faintly glowing cybernetic blue rings superimposed over her black eyes.

Westhaven

Her eyes were open but she couldn’t see anything. There were mechanical sounds ‒ beeping, whirring ‒ all around her, and voices too far away for her to understand. The sharp smell of antiseptic and the softer detergent scent beneath it.

“Initiate optical system,” a muted female voice instructed. Between one breath and the next she started processing visual information: bright white lights above her, the featureless ceiling beyond, her own nose and eyelashes. She couldn’t move her head to see much else. Walls that matched the ceiling so well it was hard to tell where one became the other, bits of the bed she was on with its bleachable white sheets and side rails.

“Increase tactile responsivity by fifty percent and disengage the motion inhibitors.”

Pro Patria Mori

She sat on the narrow bed with her packed suitcase next to her. Her blonde hair was pinned back, her blue eyes fixed on a spot next to the door, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The winter chill clung like burrs to the house, helped by the heavy spring rain that beat against the window in a staccato rhythm. Outside, trees bowed under the charcoal sky. The old house creaked and groaned around her, the wind whistling and wailing as the storm continued to batter the country estate. She waited.

At any moment there would be a knock on the main door of the house. Godfrey, the aged and shuffling butler, would answer. Standing on the other side would be some men in crisp uniforms, holding up her picture and asking if he knew her. She had seen them in town the evening before, and it wouldn’t take more than a day before someone pointed them in the right direction. They looked like military men but there was something different in their manner, something sharper. Godfrey would lead them up, and up, and up, until they reached her third floor apartment. The butler would introduce them, she would smile politely, and she would leave with them without a fight.

The Clocktower

Astra hated Capperham. The way it sprawled its squalor from border to border, from the sea in the west to the battlements in the other three directions. The harbour reeked of dead fish and unwashed human, the slums of sickness and stale beer. Even the neighbourhoods of rich merchants and factory owners lay under the thick smog of black soot the mines and mills spat out day and night. The grit and dirt was part of everything, so deeply ingrained that even the most rigorous scrubbing couldn’t make something clean.

Stars Incline Us

The Christmas gala was in full swing. The entire ballroom was full of people Pippa didn’t know, all wearing fancy clothes that probably cost more than her rent. Her own dress was aubergine and a simple V-neck, form-fitting enough to be attractive but loose enough to not draw too much attention.

She and another girl who didn’t seem to know anyone at the event were chatting with Antero and Mr. Rabinoff near the edge of the dance floor. Antero was already antsy to leave despite the dinner having just ended, but Mr. Rabinoff had trapped him in a debate he was too proud to back down from. The other girl was from legal and either found them hilarious or had had a little too much to drink because she kept giggling, leaving Pippa no choice but to laugh along while adding the occasional remark to the back and forth between the men.

That brings us all the way back to October 2016. Which tells me that I need to start at the beginning of more stories haha. If anyone has questions about any of these, please feel free to ask. Also, if you read all of that, you are a saint and a hero and have my eternal friendship.

I tag @the-writing-avocado, @radiowrites, @pigeon-hold, @sleepyowlwrites, @akindofmagictoo, and anyone else who wants to share their projects!! As always, no pressure (to play or to read this whole post lmao).

#tag games #about me

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eponinemylove · 5 years ago

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Ok so I get why Aaron and Neil aren’t friends, and with the way their relationship unfolded in canon I didn’t really expect them to be, but consider:

With Andrew and Aaron going to dual Betsy appointments, their relationship starts to slowly but surely improve

Aaron’s not happy about it, and he’s definitely not happy about how or why this all happened, but he grudgingly does realize that he has Neil to blame thank for this

Aaron is quite possible the most important person in Andrew’s life, alongside Neil and Kevin. And, despite every fucked up thing, Aaron has to admit that he cares a lot for Andrew too

So, when Aaron and Andrew get someone in the vicinity of almost-kinda-somewhat normal, Aaron realizes just how important Neil really is to Andrew

That doesn’t mean he likes or even trusts Neil with his brother tbh. But he gets a little closer to understanding

It takes... a while. But Aaron starts to see how much Andrew is to Neil, too. It’s gross and pathetic, really. Neil is a cold-hearted, dumbass bastard who’s almost definitely more trouble than he’s worth, or so he tells himself. But he knows that the absolute last thing Neil would do is hurt Andrew.

Fuck, he hates Josten so much

Aaron forgives him.

Andrew never says anything, but Aaron knows what it’s like to know that your twin hates your S.O. (Andrew still just barely tolerates Katelyn). It’s bad enough for Aaron, who is somewhere in the ballpark of relatively well-adjusted. But Andrew—Andrew only has emotions in extremes. So the two people he’d lay down his life for constantly just fighting? Well, it’s not nearly as amusing as Neil and Kevin fighting, that’s for sure. Aaron is almost sure it bothers Andrew, at least somewhat, even if he never lets on. It must, because it bothers him

Neil can accept the fact that Aaron doesn’t like him. He doesn’t lose any sleep over it. He does, however, not feel great that he’s at odds with Andrew’s family. Andrew chose that family, they mean everything to him (“family means something different to us because it has to”). He’s not going to go out of his way to fix it, but it’s not ideal

Aaron slowly starts being just a tiny bit friendlier to Neil. He doesn’t cut back on his snide remarks, but he says them somewhat less hurtful and each time he means them maybe just a little less. He doesn’t outright sneer at Neil anymore either, so that’s an improvement.

Neil picks up on this shift. At first he’s unimpressed, but then he mirrors the change. He stops actively trying to be an asshole to Aaron (he’s antagonistic at heart, sue him). He does less things to make Aaron lose his shit. It’s like a mutual understanding

They don’t talk about it

Eventually the insults they hurl at each other are... jokes? When did that happen? And they realize that they aren’t fighting anymore, they’re just both being dicks to each other. Neither one of them is hurt by it. It’s almost playful

They’re pretty much the last people to realize they’re actually becoming friends

When they do realize tho... then shit really hits the fan. It’s still not a conversation, they just kinda look at each other one day and go “...huh”. Then they shrug it off and just embrace it

The world was not ready for the combined assholishness of these two. Snark is at an all time high in South Carolina. Crying is reported on the daily, from new recruits to opponents to interviewers and reporters. Aaron might be a lawful nuetral, but with Neil’s chaotic nuetral-ness? Unstoppable. They’re practically a power couple, rivaling only that of Neil and Allison. People quiver before them individually. But once Neil and Aaron share that Look™️? It’s Game Over. No one is ever the same after being ganged up on by both Aaron and Neil. They will rip you to shreds and find it both amusing and not even worth their time. It’s psychologically damaging

Tbh though most of the time it’s just quiet acknowledgment between the two of them. They talk shit to/about people together, but that’s really it. They don’t interact that much outside of practice. They text sometimes, but almost exclusively rude things. (aaron: *sends pic of some obviously disheveled man, passed tf out next to a trash can* this is you. // neil: *sends pic of his test score for a class they share, where he got exactly 6 pts higher* how does it feel to be a dumb bitch?)

Aaron is pre-med. Neil is a math major. Occasionally they’ll study, not together but just in each other’s presence. It’s coexisting and none of the other foxes claim to understand it, but it works for them

Aaron still doesn’t let Katelyn get too close to Neil or Andrew. He’s not ready to push his luck that far

Tbh, Neil is almost completely indifferent to her. Andrew still doesn’t like her. It doesn’t matter, Aaron his overjoyed that he can just be open with their relationship. He loves bringing her to the dorms and talking to her at games and, every so often, having her over for dinner. He invites her over for almost all major holidays, and even celebrates Hanukkah with her (Neil and Andrew come along too one year, because Neil’s also jewish and wants to celebrate but he didn’t want to bring it up with the team because he knew Matt would make it a big deal and deck out the whole tower. Andrew only comes because Neil goes, and he doesn’t want him out of his sight and also bc he wants to support Neil)

Their first Hanukkah is, how you say, tense. But there’s no physical altercations, no one gets stabbed, and the emotional scarring is minimal. In other words, it’s a win.

They come back for Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. Katelyn invites him over for passover too, since he still isn’t celebrating these holidays with the foxes, and he accepts, this time without Aaron and Andrew. It’s pretty much the first time they’ve spent alone time together and... it’s not awful. Neil keeps coming back for every major holiday, sometimes with the twins, sometimes without.

When the foxes find out what he’s doing, Matt flips his shit. The next Hanukkah, fox tower is completely covered in decorations, with a menorah in every dorm. No one admits to who arranged it, and Neil tries to pretend like he’s unaffected by this, but he smiles so much that week that every single team member silently agrees that they’ll continue the tradition. Katelyn of course gets invited over to celebrate with them, and Aaron is thrilled.

Neil and Katelyn are pretty much friends at this point. Andrew isn’t in love with the idea, but he doesn’t protest it. He seems to be just tolerating her presence, until she gets Neil a Hanukkah gift. Neil smiles like the fucking sun. Neither of them say what it is and the foxes are dying to know what could make him react like that. Andrew doesn’t comment.

Neil shows him what it is later that night. It’s a framed photo of one of the games. The foxes had just won, and everyone is caught mid-smile, half huddled in a victory circle. Neil stands closest to the camera, only half his face visible as he looks at Andrew standing at the goalpost. They’re both grinning.

Andrew doesn’t like Katelyn, but he doesn’t mind her. She’s allowed in their dorm room and the house at Columbia. He even gave her a lift one time in the maserati when he went to pick up Aaron. No one says anything about it.

Andrew likes that Neil and Aaron are friends. He likes that Katelyn is good for Aaron. He likes that Katelyn gets Neil, in a quiet, unassuming way that none of them do. He likes that his family feels like a family. He doesn’t say anything. But they know. And they feel the same way

#yes I had to include a jewish Neil and Katelyn #this ended up being a LOT longer than I thought it would be #I dont know if I spelled her name right and I’m too lazy to check #neil josten #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #twinyards #katelyn #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfc #all for the gay #andreil #the foxes #aaron and neil

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 5 years ago

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Hello I need more Natasha smut thanks

Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, like legit, it’s been a year. But I wanted something to write about and it just took me forever to come with something I love. The thought came to me one day as I was sad, dramatically on the floor instead of my bed, as I often like to be, lamenting over the fact that I am not a ballerina. Really, it’s a daily thing for me, I am constantly upset about it, so, of course, this followed.

i present to you soft!ballerina!reader with my fav three avengers.

So, I want you to picture a good world after endgame. Everyone’s alive, the avengers are a full swinging team. The o6 are on earth but have a lot more time on their hands bc the team has grown. Natasha has a lot of time to walk the streets, observe a good and peaceful world she helped create.

She sees you leaving your studio, dressed in pink tights, a black leotard, and combat boots. You have a huge dance bag slung over your shoulder, you’re clumsily pulling your hair out of a bun as you walk down the sidewalk. Nothing more comes from this sighting. She spares only a second to think about how much she did not miss the pain of ballet.

Two weeks later, she’s walking down the street again, it’s purely a coincidence that she sees you. You’re with a few friends, smiling and laughing, and she likes the sound. Soon, Natasha is walking past your studio every day at that time. She’s discovered that you leave Wednesdays and Fridays at that time, but earlier on Saturdays and Sundays and later on Mondays and Thursdays. Sometimes, you’re there on Tuesday, sometimes, you’re not.

You notice her around the 7th time, not that you hadn’t noticed her, she is stunning, of course. But this is when you start to make yourself a little more available, you linger on the sidewalk, pretend to text on your phone. Sometimes, she sits on a bench on the street, other times she’s at a tiny table on the patio of a small coffee shop you try not to frequent, as a coffee addict.

You’d always known who she was, but about a month in, your classmates start to notice her too. You worry they’re going to be bolder than you and steal her attention, especially since she’s never spoken to you or looked directly at you, as far as you knew.

So, one day, you walk across the street where she’s sitting at her table. She doesn’t even bat an eye, almost like she wanted this from you, or at least expected it. You sit across from her, grab a napkin from next to her coffee cup, write your number, then leave without a word.

She texts you two agonizing hours later and asks you to go out with her that night. It’s this fancy restaurant you would have had to save up for if it had been you paying. She’s there in a skintight, low cut black dress, you opted for a tiny pink dress that barely covers your ass. She’s sweet, asks you lots of questions, and you like to make her smile so you always answer in detail. You thought after her second glass of wine, she would get handsy or a little flirtier, she didn’t. She walks you home, says goodnight, and you have to wait four more days until she wants another date.

After that, she expresses interest in your dancing. You start showing up at the studio an hour early so she can come and watch you. Those days, she leaves when others show up, but never fails to reappear so she can walk you home.

One morning, she’s late, but you guys aren’t exactly…a thing, so it’s not within your rights to text and interrogate her on her whereabouts. You wait, preparing yourself for the possibility that she just might not show. She was still busy after all, not everyone was peaceful, the world still needed the avengers. But eventually, she walks through the door and you pull away from the barre to greet her.

She makes a disapproving sound and you scurry back. She directs you to continue dancing and makes her way to the wall across from you. There’s something darker in her eyes, you’ve never seen her like this so you don’t argue. Her eyes follow your legs closely, every once in awhile, glancing up to meet your curious stare. You’re finished with your combination but you don’t move.

“Turn,” she tells you, “to do the other side.”

You listen, but you’re not really sure why. Part of you worries you don’t even remember what you were just doing. She would remember though, she was a great dancer, and ballet is a hard habit to break, especially when it’s taught to you the way it was to Natasha. Not that she’s ever told you, but her history with ballet was common knowledge.

You startle when you feel her arms around your hips. She’s never really this touchy with you. After your third date, she had a cab drive you home, and she set you on her lap the whole drive and kissed you. But she was gentle with you, slow, and you didn’t want to push her.

She shushes you then her hands start to glide up. Your breath catches when her fingertips are directly under your breasts, but she merely skips your chest all together and touches your shoulders, running her nails down your arms.

You shiver, glancing back at her.

She uses two fingers to firmly push your jaw back. “Face the wall. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“I want to see you,” you feel inclined to say.

She slaps your ass, just a small swat, but hard enough to deliver her point. “You have to be a good girl then.”

You’re wet. Just like that. Her low voice in your ear, her gorgeous body pressed against your back, you can’t help yourself.

She slips the straps of your leotard down and rolls the fabric down to your waist. The cold studio instantly hardens your nipples.

You’re squirming, rubbing your thighs together impatiently, until she warns you to stop. But she’s taking forever, you wanted her since your first date. How does she expect you to be as slow as her? “Nat, someone could come in.”

“And?”

You’re not sure how to answer.

“So you want me to stop?”

“No,” you gasp. “No, please.”

She finally grabs your breasts and you shudder, melting into her completely. One hand is holding the barre, the other desperately squeezes her thigh.

Natasha tweaks your nipples painfully, you’re mewling and begging her not to stop. She figures you like it rough then, and she doesn’t stop. She wants you to slip, to press your thighs together or try to take, but you became aware of her game quickly.

You keep your mouth shut through all her teasing, at least until she tears your suit down to your hips. “Natasha, please.” You want to see her, kiss her, touch her.

She spins you around, lips crashing down on yours. She presses herself against you, walking you all the way to the wall. Her hand slides between your legs and you nearly fall to your knees.

She wraps an arm around the small of your back to keep that from happening.

“Can I touch you?”

She’s staring at you, eyes light and smirk wicked. “Of course.”

You tug the button of her pants undone and slide your hand down the front of her lace panties. She’s so wet, you just wish you could taste her. This was you, all you, you had this effect on her body and that made you feel powerful, beautiful.

The zipper of her jeans is scratching the back of your hand, but you don’t stop. You rub her clit just as fast as she does yours. You’re both moaning, gazes locked, frantically grinding against the other’s hand. Until you both come, which is almost simultaneous, which you’re thankful for because you lost all sense of reality with your orgasm.

Okay! Stop here if all you wanted was Natasha! I know it just says Natasha, but I can’t help myself. When I asked for filth, there was a certain trio x reader I didn’t get that I was really surprised not to get! So…I apologize, I’m a bi thot.

Holy fuck, that gif. he is fucking beautiful.

She’s nicer after that. Sometimes, she stops by your apartment before class and fucks you there instead. When she does accompany you to the studio now, it’s often to help you. She’s improved your arabesque tremendously.

Sometimes, she fucks you after she walks you home. In the seclusion of your apartment, Natasha tears your clothes off like they are nothing. You start wearing simple bodysuits then, the kind with the clasps, not the expensive leotards made for dance.

You like her, and you know she likes you back. But she doesn’t want to be exclusive. Says she’s just not wired that way, that she’ll let you down. You’re, in a way, relieved. You like Natasha and you didn’t want to lose her, but you also felt…young, too young to commit to only having sex with one person for the rest of your life.

What Natasha doesn’t know is that she isn’t the only Avenger that walks that street. You have classes there, not only the ballet kind. College was your time to truly explore all you could and though you were a little aimless as far as a major went, you wanted to dip your toes into everything. Mostly, art. Dance was expected, theatre was inevitable, but painting was new.

Steve Rogers likes art and you like Steve Rogers. Your campus was in the midst of art week, huge displays everywhere, when you met him. You sort of walked right into him because you were texting Nat and were completely distracted. He was stunning in person, you’d seen enough pictures, but even those couldn’t prepare you. You couldn’t walk away, there was just something pulling you back every time you thought you should.

You didn’t ask why he was there, you also didn’t pretend to not know who he was. There was just no time for that. You simply asked him what his favorite exhibit was. You also may have called him captain, but that’s whatever. Long story short, he was teaching you to draw at least three times a week in the evenings after you went home and changed to meet him at his favorite restaurant. He knew you danced, but of course, he never tried to see you at the studio, just made you promise you’d invite him to any shows you were in.

He likes to sit next to you, touch your forearm as you draw, kiss your neck to distract you, and pretend he needs to be that close to see what you’re doing. He’s your teacher after all, right? But that’s only now, in the beginning, it was totally friendly.

It changed almost three torturous months in. He went outside to take a call and you, like the absolute disaster you were, dropped your purse and his sketchbook. The book conveniently opened up to a page of you, but your curious fingers did the turning and found more. He had been drawing you since the day you met and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Flattered, grateful that clearly, he liked you back. But it was almost overwhelming, is this actually how he saw you? And frustrating! If he liked you, how could he just keep it bottled up?

But you had to go, your hour-and-a-half session every Tuesday was ending. It was time for your study group so you gathered your things in one arm, his things in the other, and headed out. He was just finishing his call, noticed you, and, if not a tad frantically, took the sketchbook and pencil case from you. Before he’d even hung up, you rolled onto your toes and kissed him. He was surprised, frozen, and couldn’t hang up the phone.

Not until you were both interrupted. “Are you kissing someone?!” Steve jerked back, turning away as he cleared his throat. “I will talk to you later, Tony,” he growled.

You had your fingers pressed to your lips, trying to smother your laugh.

He turned back to you with narrowed eyes as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

“I’m sorry—“

He didn’t believe you for a second. “Oh, you sound it.”

You bit your lip, eyes lowering. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so forward. He was old-fashioned.

He took one of your purse straps from your shoulder and slipped his sketchbook inside.

You turned up to him, eyebrows pulling together.

“You saw them, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Almost full, I need a new one anyway.”

He was giving you his sketchbook and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

He matched your grin with his own, one hand taking your hip to reel you in for another kiss. A real kiss, one where you were both moving against one another. He pinned you to the brick wall next to the exit and kissed you despite all the traffic going in and out. And you had stupidly thought he would be the kind of man who didn’t like being so public.

So, he likes being touchy. You like wearing skirts. It became a routine, buried in the back of the restaurant, hidden in a booth. Every time he’s praising you for what you’ve drawn, he likes to slide his hand up between your thighs and you like to not wear underwear, just to be helpful. He likes to make you come and then lick his fingers clean, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Unlike Natasha, he comes to you at night. She is your sun and he is your moon. He is also irregular hours, frantic fucking, desperate and whispered words as you’re both coming down, gentle touches when he’s trying to leave you–which only works 1 out of every 5 times–and sweet promises that you would see him soon. If only because he is utterly and undeniably addicted to you.

However, he tells you the same, and again, you embrace it. He kisses you, tells you that you’re beautiful and amazing, but he can’t be your boyfriend. He’s not steady enough for you. You’re glad. You can’t hurt Steve, you can’t hurt Natasha, it’s the last thing you would ever want to do. You promise him you understand and kiss him until he’s not frowning anymore.

Then he rips off your clothes as he pushes you to your bedroom. He always starts on top, closing you in with his huge arms, pounding into you because you can take it, staring deep like he’s looking for something. You hold onto him because he likes that, likes when you claw hard enough to draw blood. He says the filthiest things to you, and sometimes, neither one of you can bear to break away until he just shuts his damn mouth. Sometimes, he takes advantage of that and you have to cancel both on Nat and skip class—it’s only happened three times though, and those times followed bad missions so you decided to just be glad that he wasn’t pushing you away.

He cuddles as long as he can, either until he’s restless, you need to go, or he has another job to do. He never talks to you about the other marks on your body, love bites or fingerprints not left by him, instead, he leaves the same right next to it. And you don’t tell him to stop because you really don’t want him to. Nat is quiet on that end as well—she can’t say anything, it would cross the boundaries she made herself.

You’re a perfectionist, it’s a terrible habit that leads to obsessing at times. There’s a little dance area you created, just a portable barre and five cheap, long mirrors stuck to the wall. Steve commented on it before, but nothing that caught your interest. Not until he’s in your apartment and has yet to get you naked, but he’s still looking at you with that look.

Natasha had been there earlier that morning, wouldn’t stop fingering you until you begged her to give you a break. When you finally regained use of your legs, you were still tired. You put on your bodysuit, your wrap skirt, and then you were on your way to the beginning of your day.

He likes that you’re a ballerina, likes to see how passionate you are about it. He can relate. He likes to see you in thin layers of light pink and he especially likes taking them off you. And today, he clearly appreciates the extra exposed skin, you’re still dressed for practice because you were being lazy when you got home.

You say nothing as you walk over to the wall. You start with a few stretches, slow and simple. You don’t look at him because that’s the best way to get what you want from Steve. If he thinks you’re not paying attention to him for a second when he wants you to be, he will gladly steal that attention.

He likes your legs, likes to watch them move, so you go through your favorite combination, a lot of tendus, rond de jambes, and developpés. After you complete the opposite side, you hear him walk toward you, but you continue. You bring your outer leg up to the barre, leaning away.

Steve catches you, pressing his chest to your back. His arms wrap tightly around you and you set your head to his shoulder to look up at him. One hand reaches out to your raised leg, his fingertips gliding up slowly until you shudder against him. He grips your thigh and pulls it back indelicately, other arm guiding you to face the barre.

He curls both hands around your waist, you feel heat pool between your legs at the sight. His hands are massive, a fact hard to ignore when he gets them on you. He bends you over the barre, one hand pressing against your back to keep you there. You feel him against your ass, hard and greedy as if you’ve been teasing him for hours.

He pulls the tie loose on your skirt and it slides to the floor. His fingers find the clasp against your pussy and you whimper his name, a plea to hurry the fuck up. But he won’t, you know that. “You’re so wet.”

“I want you.”

“Is that what all that was? You were putting on a show for me?”

“Did you like it?”

He unzips his pants then grabs your ass hard. “I did.”

You wait patiently as he moves his clothing out of the way. He takes your hips in both hands, the tip of his cock pressing against your pussy. As he begins to push into you, you grab the barre hard. Your legs are shaking until he’s pressed flush against your ass. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, him inside of you always makes you feel so fucking full and complete.

He thrusts hard, the barre moves because you’re dragging it with you. He watches your breasts move in the mirror, hands touching your ass, your clit, or your clothed torso. When he’s close, he grabs you by the neck and pulls you up straight. “Watch your pussy, baby doll, watch how good you take my cock.”

You’re so fucked then, legs threatening to buckle but he always catches you so you don’t mind. At the end of the night, he carries you to your bed, kisses your face a dozen times, and promises to text you tomorrow.

If you weren’t such a freak, you’d stop there. But when have you ever done what you’re supposed to? You were in two relationships of absolute freedom. Until you were in three.

Carol found you in a record shop. She was more forward than her friends and wasted no time letting you know she was interested in you. That same night, she took you to some dive bar and you were wearing this tiny skirt and a slinky shirt. She locked you in a restroom stall where she draped your thighs over her shoulders and ate you out until you were crying and couldn’t stop shaking.

She introduces you to her best friend, Maria, but not the others and obviously, you’re thankful for that. The bar is your usual spot, where she sits you on her lap the entire night. She drinks but never too much, as she wants to take care of you completely, so she lets you drink. You don’t get wasted often, but it’s a comfort knowing no man will try to pick you up if you’re on her arm.

When it’s time for a change of scenery, it’s at her apartment. You figure it’s too risky to have three regular sexual partners knowing where you live, especially since Steve and Natasha sometimes came to you mindlessly, an apology text as a preface before they explain they weren’t thinking and just had to see you. It makes your heart beat faster so you never tell them to stop.

Carol, on the other hand, likes you to come to her. Which makes things just a little easier.

You’re not sure she’s ever seen you in a pair of pants, it’s merely an inconvenience for you both since you know she’s either going to end up with her fingers in your pussy or on her knees in front of you.

She knows about the ballet and likes to “help” you stretch. 🙄 You shouldn’t complain, she really does aid your flexibility, but it’s never with pure intentions. She’s started taking your clothes off before you even start your routine at this point, that’s always how it ends anyway. She starts at your feet, as she knows how obsessive you are about perfectly pointing your toes, then your hips, by the time you’re onto legs, you know that’s because she’s getting impatient.

On occasion when she brings out the strap, she loves laying you down, pressing one leg flat to the floor, lifting the other until your foot is on her shoulder and fucking you hard. And claims she needs to do it again because you can’t only stretch one side. Other times, she’ll have you face the wall, one leg as high up as you can get it, her arms wrapped right around you as she fucks you from behind. Sometimes, she’ll have you in bridge position where she eats your pussy until you literally can’t use your legs a second longer. Carol’s definitely creative when she gets you alone and undressed in her apartment.

She’s the one you’ve had to splurge on a lingerie collection for. God, she loves you in lace. She loves to see you so soft, she loves taking every scrap of clothing off of you, and then giving it to you so hard. She likes to tie you up; sometimes, wrists and ankles to each bedpost, sometimes, just your arms. It’s always a workout in itself to be with Carol, at least that’s what you tell yourself on the rare occasion she tempts you out of going to ballet.

The first night you stay at her apartment, she takes you out again. She had been on a mission for the past two weeks, as was Natasha, so you’d had a lot of time with Steve, but it was switched now and he was off on an assignment. Under your black leather skirt and old band tank top, you’re wearing a lacy pink one-piece. When you get back to her place, you push her onto the bed and undress for her.

You can tell by the look in her eye, you are so in for it. She grabs you, forces you onto the bed, facing down, and ties you up. She drapes herself over you, whispering in your ear about how sexy she finds you. She doesn’t push the lace aside, instead, she pushes into you with her strap, the lace added this weird sensation that you don’t necessarily dislike. But she doesn’t go too deep, in fear that she will damage her new favorite article of clothing, it’s little more than a tease. But you know better than to demand anything from her when she ties you up.

From there on out, since you decided to leave the pink suit at her place, every time she tells you to be at her place at a specific time, which is always before she’s set to be there, you’re meant to be wearing it and waiting for her. This was new for you, you’d never been with a partner so controlling, even Steve and Nat were just simple control freaks, dictating your orgasms, your positions, and your smart mouth.

But Carol was on a different level, a level without fear. Nat and Steve were holding back, Carol clearly wasn’t. Your favorite scene is when she gets home, lets you know, and tells you to meet her in the living room. She’s already undressed then, sitting on her couch and watching TV (😉😘, thanks anon (x)).

The first time, you aren’t really sure what she wants from you, so you get onto the floor, crawl your way on hands and knees to her pussy, and lick and suck until she’s coming. But she still says nothing, doesn’t touch you, so you do it again. You don’t stop until your jaw is sore and your thighs are slick with your own aching need.

You’re pouting and she’s smirking, so you know this is her game. You stand up, sit on the couch between her legs, and take her right hand. Easily, you slide your pussy onto two of her fingers, then you take her left hand and place it over your breast. You never lose your hold of her hands and you pretend like that doesn’t matter. You fuck her fingers with no assistance from her and keep her hand squeezing your breast, you even let your ass grind against her pussy, which is soaking. You’re loud and desperate, but when you glance at her and see she’s staring at you, you know you’ve won this round.

That doesn’t happen again, you’d simply shocked her by being so forward. Future scenarios require you to be a brat. You whine and demand that she pay you some attention, but she doesn’t, so you get mouthy, or you start to touch yourself and don’t listen when she tells you to stop. Later, she’ll spank you until your ass is sore, but that’s okay with you.

It’s not always just about sex. She can be the sweetest sometimes. The bar crowd teases her endlessly for it as she’s gone around telling everyone “her girl” is fucking smart and so talented. Maria’s the worst, but once, she took you aside and told you she doesn’t mean a word of it and she’s just happy you make Carol smile so freely.

She also visits you in between classes, gives you coffee or food, talks to you about the rest of your day. You ask her what she’s going to do, and sometimes, she’ll even tell you. But sometimes, she’s going on a mission and she’ll spare you the details because she knows you worry.

You know she sees the marks too, the ones left by Steve and Nat, but pretends she doesn’t because it’s just not the way this is going to be. They’re all busy and you have the kind of life that not one can fit into completely but that the three of them can. You’ve been working on that speech for the day they finally find out. You presume it will be your first show as all three have demanded to know when it is because nothing could keep them away.

lol, where did this even come from? Can I tell you who’s to blame? This beautiful gif maker, avengercarol. as soon as I saw the third gif, I knew what I was going to do. this post, like it, reblog it (x)

#natasha romanoff smut #steve rogers smut #carol danvers smut #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #carol danvers x reader #my writing

460 notes · View notes

itsclownhours · 4 years ago

Conversation

merlin as tumblr posts again because when i edited a typo in the original it fucked up the formatting

everyone: you have to make time for yourself

morgana: *stays up until 1 am every night crying* me time

morgana: ohhhh so the pain is forever and endless i get it now

young!mordred: once i learn how to read and write it’s over for you hoes

lancelot, in cursive: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: what does this say

elyan: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: bitch me neither that’s why i asked

arthur, to merlin, about lancelot: is he...y’know…*gestures downard to super hell*

uther, straight: hey what’s up guys do you want to go get some food

arthur and morgana, gay: ??????

uther: oh sorry i mean asgdhjdhs guys do you??? want some food??? lmao ashdjdjhs

arthur and morgana: oh! agshdjjshsj yeah lmao agshdj

morgana: do you ever associate the word “girlfriend” with wlw so much that you forget straight boys have girlfriends

gwen: am taking care of a tiny kitten. have given it an excellent name. dad thinks i’m calling her “minty” but this is actually short for The Government

gwen: The Government bit my finger and pooped on the floor

gwaine: peak art is when you were like six and you scribbled all over ms paint and then carefully paintbucketed in all the different shapes in the scribbles to make “stained glass”

morgause: forcing my car to commit sins so it goes to hell with me when i die

leon, after arthur gives the knights a pep talk: so motivational...time to drill a hole in my skull

morgana: i want to be a she really did that!! kind of girl but i don’t do anything

arthur: pros and cons of being my friend:

arthur: pro: you have a friend

arthur: con: it’s me

gwaine, to lancelot: bro let’s watch a horror movie together...bro you look scared do you wanna share a blanket dude? if you wanna hold hands it’s ok. if you wanna rest your head on my shoulder it’s alright bro...bro if you wanna kiss that’s understandable that was a scary movie...we can keep cuddling after the movie is over it’s alright dude…

lancelot: old town road but he just keeps listing all the places he has horses

gwaine: i got the horses in the back

gwaine: horses on the track

gwaine: horses in the shack and i got horses fetching snacks

gwaine: i got the horses in earth’s core

gwaine: down under the floor

gwaine: horses in the store and i got horses on the moor

gwaine: died and came back as a cowboy i call that reintarnation

morgana: *shows up at college* excuse me will someone please direct me to the leftist brainwashing class? i’m here for the leftist brainwashing class

merlin: finally found someone i was more disappointed in that myself: the entirety of america camelot

morgause: customer (derogatory)

arthur: business major (derogatory)

leon: leonardo dicaprio date a woman over 25 challenge

gwaine: thought that said “leonardo da vinci” and was confused since da vinci was gay and also since you were calling out someone who’s been dead for well over 7 years

leon: well. da vinci has been well over 7 years, i’ll give you that

morgana: the retirement age needs to be lowered to 25. i’ve had enough

gwaine: i’m fucking in luigi’s mansion

leon: who?

gwaine: some italian freak

gwaine: oh you meant who am i fucking. your mom

leon: stop setting things on fire because you’re curious about what will happen. what will happen is fire

gwaine: but what if...something else happens. just this 1 time

morgause: bored? burn an orphan. who’re they gonna tell? their parents?

morgana: due to personal reasons i will be a serial arsonist

mithian: fruit (affectionate)

arthur: going to the fruit (derogatory) store do you want anything

gwen: fruit (salad, yummy yummy)

morgana, to gwen: i’m allergic to hookup culture and too weird to participate anyway. die in my arms

kilgharrah: i am fast and full of teeth. i will die in a barn fire

morgana: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana: evil again

morgause: every day i put on my evil little clothes and do my evil little tasks

percival: megan thee stallion and timothee chalamet are the same age

gwaine: megan thee stallion 🤝 timo thee chalamet

morgana: hey how many swords do you have

morgause: sword of a lot

morgana: blocked

morgause: parried

morgana and gwen simultaneously in 1x10: *chanting* girls with swords girls with swords

morgana: the more knives you have the more valid you are

kilgharrah: blocked. blocked. blocked. you’re all blocked. none of you are free from sin.

morgana: seven deadly sins speedrun

gwaine: i want 6 pet sloths so i can name them after every sin except for sloth

merlin: the eighth deadly sin is networking

arthur: online school culture is constantly wondering if there’s a sneaky little assignment you missed...is it tucked under modules or assignments or heaven forbid, announcements? who’s to say?

gaius: asynchronous learning

merlin, a clown: mmmnaptime

arthur: have you ever just cried because you’re you

elyan, to percival: bro, we are teens . it’s ok to cry around me . i’m your best friend . i love you … bro we are kissing now … no don’t stop bro … bro …

morgana: mad bc i was told as the bride my wedding would be “my day” but actually where will be a whole other bride there and we will have to share it

leon: i’m disgusted every time someone does a gender reveal and it’s about a gender i already know about, what kind of reveal is that

leon: gender reveal party??? no, this is a gender repeal party. we out here revoking genders

gwaine: you’re laughing. i asked you who sings party rock anthem and you’re laughing

gwaine: make no mistake not only am i party rocking but i’m also in the house tonight

elyan: are you shuffling?

gwaine: everyday

morgana: lung extensions

morgana: with extended lungs you can: scream longer, breathe harder, brag about extended lungs

morgana: this procedure is not legal but i will do it for you

morgana: do not tell the police or morgause

morgana: i’m so sick of dna, i’m going to have all mine removed

morgause: good news! this is a real thing that can happen to you

morgana: perfect, sign me up

morgana: if YOU die because i poisoned you...how is that MY fault like i’m sorry you aren’t immune to my poisons i think that’s genuinely something you need to work on. fix yourself before blaming others

arthur: my body is NOT a “temple”...it is a CLOWN CAR and NONE OF THESE BITCHES KNOW HOW TO DRIVE

morgause: live

morgause: laugh

morgause: l u r k

mcdonald’s employee: please sir get off the table

gwaine: I ASKED FOR TWO LARGE FRIES *dumping bag of fried out onto the floor* BUT INSTEAD GOT A HUNDRED FUCKEN LITTLE ONES

merlin: i relate to vampires because i too must be clearly and specifically invited in before i have the audacity to try to participate in anything

gwaine: it can’t be september, just yesterday is was marchgustuary

lancelot: today’s date: [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/20

gwaine: why are internet friends not normalized. it’s 2020 they’re probably making robots that will wipe your ass for you and i can’t text grace in the uk and tell her to have a good day? fuck you

percival: imagine if halsey was in beauty and the beast

elyan: are you insane like gaston. been in pain like gaston. bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like gaston

arthur: my dad is learning about pronouns/gender identity and he called me in the middle of the night to tell me he is cis

merlin: ough. those first 400 bites of dirt were not so good. maybe the next one will be better

morgana: i’m at the dark candy store, buying sorrowful ranchers

merlin: i’m surprised no one has ever punched me in the face

gwen: i want a gf so i can send her memes about loving my gf

morgause: oh to cook with my wife and stand directly in front of cabinets and drawers she needs to open

morgause: decided i will no longer be paying taxes. what are they gonna do, tax me more? go ahead. i won’t pay those either. oh i’m going to prison? the one paid for by my tax dollars? sorry, didn’t pay em. now there is no prison. i am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times

merlin: lab safety but the teacher just wants to you die

merlin: lab safety: 1. drink whatever’s in that beaker. i know you fucking want to

morgause: my therapist is selling her house so i’m gonna find the listing online and make her living room my zoom backgrounds before our next session. you wanna get in my head? ok well i’m in your home babe. i’m in charge now

morgana: yeah i see why you’re in therapy

morgana: i hate it when people ask me to “explain my thought process” like hell if i know

morgana: what’s going on in that head of yours?” nothing i want to be a part of

mordred: hey girls what’s the hot gossip what’s new what’s the 411

morgana and morgause: everything is bad and getting worse by the day

morgause: common letter greetings from 1889

morgause: dearest my-soon-to-be-enemy

morgause: salutations and i hope you enjoy contact prison

morgause: i hope this letter finds you in a ditch

arthur: *highlights all the wrong and unimportant stuff with full confidence*

merlin: i’ve tried opening my mouth and saying words before and i’ve gotta say, i’m not a fan

morgana: a large group of humans is called a fuck that

website: synonyms for blood: juice

mithian: thank you thesaurus.com, that is absolutely not what i was looking for

gwaine: gen z humor was single-handedly cultivated by the zoo wee mama comic and you can’t convince me otherwise

morgana: screw this it’s halloween now *turns into a swarm of bats them consumes the moon*

morgana: i can’t believe the heterosexuals are gone. they’re gone

uther: we’re still here

arthur: who said that

gwaine: no more france

gwaine: society has progressed passed the need for france

morgause: girls night out (of body experience)

morgana, to morgause: what do you mean “what have i been up to”...i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch

merlin: stop complaining about your life. there are literally people living in camelot

arthur, trying to find new knights: oh so you’re a human? name three pictures with traffic lights in them

gwaine: we mcfreaking lost her doctor

morgause: looking for a wife in the walmart

morgause: arrested for visiting www.killing.com/murder

gwaine, to merlin: no bro this isn’t a date listen bro

gwaine: it’s bruhnch

morgause, to cenred: if you think i’m not interested, you’re right

gwen: put a pancake on a girl’s head when she’s asleep to keep her warm and safe

morgana: idk what mad scientist needs to hear this today but your goggles and lab coat are incredibly flattering and all your experiments will block away the scientific community who called you a fool

morgause: i’m gonna fucking die disease

morgause: symptoms: back hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

arthur: if you think i’m annoying now wait until i get over my fear of being perceived as annoying

merlin: sorry if i’m bothering you

surgeon: how do you keep waking up and saying that

gwaine: home depot needs more small tunnels for me to crawl through tbh

percival: hot tip: soup is customizable! go wild but know your limits

morgana: brains say “i know a spot” and take you to a traumatic memory from 2011

mithian: “can you multitask” yes actually i am losing my mind and chilling at the same time

morgana: quarantine schedule to keep you on track

morgana: wake up

morgana: neglect online school

morgana: yearn (ongoing project)

morgana: again!

mithian: if cats don’t want to be held like little babies maybe they shouldn’t be roughly the size and shape of little babies

morgause: fuck this pandemic i could’ve ruined 2020 on my own

morgana: a cute girl told me she has lots of plants in her house and i told her for some fucking reason “damn the oxygen at your place must be mad crisp” and somehow still got her number so. chase your dreams. nothing is impossible apparently

morgana: oh to wear a knife strapped against my thigh beneath a silk dress

morgana, running off with morgause at the end of season 2: i hate this place i want to go to build a bear

morgana, at work: i’m evil

morgana, 1 second after clocking out: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana, the next day at work: evil again

season 2 morgana: i am fine thank you for asking! though recently there has been a darkness growing within me

morgause: *thinks about love* okay well i am just losing my mind and being insane now

arthur: you think you can hurt my feelings? i’ve been the least favorite in every single friendship group i’ve had since i was 8

morgana, staring out the window at arthur and merlin: look at them plotting my downfall

mithian: i wanna buy clown noses in bulk and start sticking them on every person i see whose mask is pulled too low

mithian: oh to be a tiny cat whose biggest concern is the looming threat of being gently picked up and kissed on the head

morgana: i deserve to be kissed

morgana: did you have a homoerotic friendship with a girl in high school that ended in tragedy and you two are never talking again or are you normal?

mithian: just diagnosed with forehead kiss deficiency :/

morgana: i think i’ll continue to wear a mask when this shit’s all over, and huge sunglasses. my face is none of your business

morgause: my therapist told me that sometimes when a person consumes the same piece of media over and over they may be unconsciously coping with a mental block so now i’m trying to figure out what the fuck i was going through that made me watch ratatouille 8 times a day for a solid month in middle school

morgause: opposite of depression nap. depression awakeness. refreshing the same three websites over and over. there’s nothing new on any of them. eight seconds have passed and it feels like a century

morgana: very homophobic that my head is not laying on the chest of my maidservant as i am drifting off to sleep

merlin: no no, it’s fine, i’ll text myself back

morgana: *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns*

arthur: i’d have to be a fool not to? being a fool and not doing things are my top two activities

gwaine: you think it’s easy to be me? you think it’s easy to get up every. single. day. and be an industrial grade dumbass? well it’s not. but that’s what i do. and i’ll never stop.

morgana: ah shit i’m sorry man, my schedule for the week is all booked

sunday: yearn

monday: pine

tuesday: long

wednesday: ache

thursday: sigh

friday: lament

saturday: crave

morgana: talents include: being a public menace, denying God’s will, petting dogs, yearning, being dramatic, witchcraft, quoting classic literature when no one asked, napping, befriending a murder of crows, being gay, covering up my emotions by being “the funny friend” when in reality i’m really going through it, wistfully staring out the car window

merlin: *doesn’t even do the bare minimum* all in a day’s work

cenred: a “period” is not an excuse to have an attitude

morgause: i miss the times when men would go to war and die

morgana: the cheap halloween vampire fangs stay ON during sex

gwen: maybe i pspspspsp’ed you because i love you. did you think of that? huh?

morgana: mom said it’s my turn to hand out the ominous and vague warnings

arthur: that wasn’t mom

uther: she JUST SAID it was her turn

morgause: i’m a chill person but if my back doesn’t stop hurting i’m going to take out my spine and beat God with it

mithian: one of these days i’m going to say the f word

mithian: then you’ll all be sorry

morgause: 3 words every girl wants to hear

morgause: club penguin membership

morgana: hmm, yes.

morgana: time to s i p

morgana: some *~crispy~*

morgana: d i h y d r o g e n m o n o x i d e

morgause: roll call! raise your hand if you’re in the following fandoms:

morgause: 1. suffering 2. the pain of living

morgana: *raises both hands and a leg*

leon: it’s so hard being a single mom when you have no kids and are a male teenager

merlin: yeah bro hit me up and we’ll cancel some plans sometime

morgana: my brain, or as i like to call it, the suffer contraption

morgause: my circle so small i almost cut myself off

morgause hyping herself up before entering any public area: i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal

arthur: today in french we learned how to say “what’s in the bag” and i couldn’t stop laughing because

arthur: swaggity swag qu’est-ce qui dans le sac

merlin: even when i am not speaking, know that horrible sentences are raging within me

mithian in 5x04: sorry bro i can’t go out tonight. i’m stuck in an eternal state of melancholy

morgause: shower gel label: immerse yourself in this new “Me Time” luxury frooty tooty. abandon all sense of identity and dissolve your memories into this soothing chemical broth. one billion melons are in this tube...use them wisely

leon, writing a headline about the most recent knights’ mission: local dumbasses knew that what they were getting themselves into and did it anyways

morgana: *feels random pain in body*

morgana: kill me

mithian: *slowly inches closer to your pet*

morgause: *refuses to look at texts* i love conversation and communication

arthur: cute gender neutral things to call your partner

arthur: significant annoyance

leon: the most unrealistic fantasy trope is the one where half of the pair works in some sort of shop and one is a customer because i have literally never thought about a customer with anything other than contempt

gwaine: why is everyone talking about 1d all of a sudden did one of them die

elyan: they’re 10 years old now

gwaine: i wish them luck 4th grade is tough!!

gwaine: must i pursue a career? is it not enough to be passionate about tv shows and snack foods?

leon, aroace: cool date idea: me eating oatmeal by myself

morgana: i have no self of steam

gwaine: i hate wearing a mask. i miss being able to gently kiss my trader joe’s cashier on the lips after they ring up my $8 box of blueberries

morgana: committing acts of violence today…*pushes morgause’s glass of water off the counter*

gwaine: mario will do anything to put a smile on your face

morgana: haha we get along so well...our brains just work the same way

morgause, after changing her entire personality to match morgana’s after analyzing the way she talks and texts: haha yeah it’s incredible

gwaine: covered in sauce, trembling

arthur: *says the vaguest most incoherent shit ever*

arthur: you know what i mean :/

[online]

morgana: *screenshots things her girlfriend said to her so she can read it again later* yeah i’m not gay

uther: dude no offence i don’t want to sound like an sjw or anything but if you have a girlfriend you’re straight. that’s just how it works

morgana: i’m a girl

uther: what the fuck

morgana: the second you say “family group chat” i know we are not the same

gwen: what if early in the morning after buying groceries we got caught in the rain and i used my jacket to cover your head ut we still got soaked and we made a fire at home and brewed tea and sat together watching the rain as our cats hid under our feets at each sound of thunder and we ate stew for dinner and watched tv until we fell asleep on the couch with your head resting on my shoulder

gwaine, to percival: hold my hand bro we’re crossing the street

percival: imageine if we all just started ignoring celebrities though

percival: i can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. imagine kyie jenner posting a selfie and it gets 12 likes

morgana: this isn’t fun anymore i need a kiss

morgause at 1159 pm: life’s great lol

morgause at 1201 am: does anyone really know me? most importantly do i really know me? what if life doesn’t get better than this?

merlin: king i needbfjdjgnjfg qldkr snmsmdjgjt ….. .. i need--fjrjkrhgphpqn dd

arthur: huh *dunks merlin’s head back underwater*

morgana: i don’t go to therapy or take any pills i just rawdog life and let my brain turn into soup

mordred: dark emails

morgause: to whom it WILL concern

morgana: now that this email has found you

gwaine: hi waiter could i get the spaghetti i promise i’ll behave this time

merlin: the sexiest thing about me? everything hurts my feelings

gwaine: how is sex fun if i have to remove my crocs to have it

elyan: if he makes you remove your crocs for sex he isn’t the one

morgause: a motherfucker could use an embrace

morgana: every night after 10pm my feelings start crawling out, starved, as i beat them with a moderately large stick vigorously hissing “stay back” until i inevitably fall asleep

fanfiction: there’s only one room available…

morgause, who specifically chose a rated m and explicit story: oh my gosh there’s only one room they’re gonna share a bed what’s gonna happen next

morgana: i can have a little unrealistic romantic fantasy. as a treat

arthur: some of y’all weren’t asked out as a joke in middle school and it shows

morgana: how is everyone doing. i’ll go first i’m doing badly

morgana: being a kid was so fucking funny we’d just go around lying to each other’s faces constantly to impress each other one of the knights told me he was the first person to visit the sun and when i asked him what it was like to prove he was lying he said he didn’t remember because they sent him there when he was a baby and to this day the mental image of nasa launching an unsupervised baby into the sun still makes me crack up

elyan: do you wish you were seeing somebody

leon: a therapist

morgause: when you see someone from high school and they don’t recognize you that’s the exact opposite of the mortifying ordeal of being known. the gratifying relief of being forgotten

[texting]

morgana: you seem hard to kill

morgause: aw thank you

morgause: i haven’t been killed yet

morgana: to your knowledge

morgause: what

morgana: just truly bonkers how much i love lying down……..like being horizontal? Unparalleled

arthur: when i was younger i really thought that piranhas were going to be a bigger issue for me than they’ve turned out to be

morgause: filling out the depression and anxiety checkboxes at the doctors is always so sad but also very very funny

morgause: i am handed a piece of paper. i check off a box that says “every day i wish i were dead”. i hand back the paper. the paper and its contents are never again discussed.

morgana: unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, i cannot just “walk up and join the circle of people talking”, but it does sound lovely thank you

morgana: if california is so expensive why don’t you move to somewhere like ohio

morgause: full offense but i’d rather be dead in california than alive in ohio

morgause: ugly and uninspiring--review of ohio

morgana: staying up late not even fun anymore it’s just sad

morgause: everyone should be comfortable in their own skin :)

morgause’s brain: except for you

morgause: except for me :)

mithian: please peer pressure me into finishing projects

merlin: do it or you’re straight

mithian: i said peer pressure not threaten

morgause: the year is 2030. bakery art is so realistic, literally anything could be cake. the uncertainty has gripped the world in fear. i go to hug my wife for comfort. she is cake.

morgause: i sob in despair as i eat my cake wife. she is delicious

gwen: do ladies love stupid men or do they just love men who don’t exhaust every opportunity to feel smart

gwen: “i used to think that melancholy was a vegetable” that’s incredible, let’s hang out more

morgause: basically i accidentally listened to a song a few years ago and it led to this

morgana: *desperately tries to romanticise her homework*

uther: do i have to be pretty? is it not enough to simply be the loudest person in the room with the worst opinions

morgana: oh i can’t possibly study, i have allotted the next six hours to yearning vaguely

morgause: allow me to de-introduce myself

morgause: my name is [redacted]

arthur: i have no good posts today i’m sorry guys

merlin: haha “today”

mordred: “do we perhaps use magic because we were bullied and needed blah blah special interest blah blah” shut the FUCK up i use magic to see my anime husband’s big fucking honkers. sorry you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: i came here to bully people

mordred: is it because you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: no it’s because i’m deranged

mithian: pretty sure seven deadly sins is a bit excessive

mithian: just combine wrath and gluttony and make hangry

mithian: sloth and pride make Bottoming

morgana: despicable me ruined the word minion whenever i become a supervillain i’m just going to have to call them my homies or whatever

gwen: as a bisexual i am attracted to lanky boys with dark hair, girls who look like they could kill me, and anyone wearing vampire teeth

morgana: if someone tried to assassinate me that would make me feel so important and valued and beloved

gwaine: turn down for whom?

mithian: fact: usage of the word “the” has begun to decline. this is because as more and more people become educated, usage of the word “thoum’st” has become more common.

morgana, kidnapping mithian in 5x04: truth or dare? uhhh i dare you to………………………………..fall in love with me. haha i’m just joking bro………………..unless…………………………?

gwaine: my thoughts are like a clearance sale

gwaine: once it’s gone it’s gone

morgana: *pronounces “hors d’oeuvres” as “horse divorce” specifically to piss off morgause*

gwaine: do you prefer women or men?

leon: death

morgause: honestly no offense but i love falling asleep and sleeping. it’s like. ok goodnight

morgause: ngl it’s kinda difficult to be the moody and mysterious background character in everyone’s life when you’re quarantined at home

morgause: i need to get laid

morgause: --to rest. put me in a coffin, let my soul ascend

gwaine: it takes a lot of heart to be this stupid

gwaine: it takes real strength not to know shit about fuck

elyan: what’s your favorite anime?

leon: i’m a christian

arthur: just bought this tapeworm from etsy!

lancelot: where are you gonna keep it

arthur: :)

merlin: i don’t like this conversion very much

gwaine: i’m home alone with the tv repair man

gwaine: i’m no fool, there are only two possible outcomes of this scenario

gwaine: porn or murder

gwaine, an hour later: apparently there was an unforeseen third outcome where he fixes the tv and then leaves

morgause: well tomorrow fucking sucked

morgana: dark brunch

morgana: *mixes a mimosa with evil intent*

morgause: this is just what being gay is like

gwaine: movie idea: guy finds a stone tablet engraved with a mysterious alien language and gets caught up in a national treasure-esque adventure to decipher its meaning, only to learn that it’s just an alien “live laugh love” decoration

arthur: sorry i didn’t mean to open your ig story 20 seconds after you posted i’m just unemployed

arthur: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgana: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

cenred: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgause: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

morgana: wow would you look at that. it’s already that time of the night where i move the stuff on my bed to my chair. can’t wait until tomorrow when i move the stuff from my chair back onto my bed

gwaine: hi i’m bethany with girl defined ministry and today we are going to be talking about how to stan my chemical romance in a God-honoring way

morgana: bottom: ,,, !!! ;;; vers: …. top: no punctuation whatsoever

morgause: tops are illiterate

morgause: i slept for almost 12 hours but i might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

morgana: morgause that’s a coma

morgause: sounds festive

mithian: i am a simple woman. i enter the kitchen. i eat four servings of bread products. i leave.

gwaine: it’s one serving if you serve all of it to yourself

mithian: i like the way you think, friend

gwaine: spencer from icarly and rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid are on the opposite ends of the same spectrum

elyan: the gay older brother scale

merlin: i found a rock :)

merlin: my troubles will soon be over

gwaine: parasite (2019) dir. bong joon ho

percival: uncut gems (2019) dir. josh and benny safdie

elyan: cain

morgana: social distancing is okay for me bc i’ve been touch starved since the 15th century. i’m used to it

mithian: fanfiction hits different when you’re gay and yearning and haven’t experienced an ounce of romance in your life

morgause: callout for rude baby seen at grocery store

morgause: i’m calling out a baby (approximately 12-14 months old) from the grocery store due to its rudeness. i’m guessing its age based on appearance, motor skills (atrocious) and whatnot. anyway, i smiled at this baby and it just stared at me. as soon as i began to move on, though, the baby said “no!” and started giggling when i turned back around. this happened multiple times. the baby’s actions were toxic and manipulative. the baby was also manhandling a package of dried fruit which wasn’t yet paid for (quite minor) and was just generally sitting around and not helping

gwen: we need to melt down all the pennies and make the statue of liberty a girlfriend

morgause: had a realization in a dream i just had that this isn’t real and i can just do whatever i want and so i started shrinking the face of this guy that was talking to me and then once it got real small i woke up sleep paralyzed

morgause: i was given godlike powers over the universe by realizing it’s all in my head and the first thing i did was use them to torment the nearest man

morgause: and the actual God woke me up and put be into a 5 minute timeout to lay frozen and think about what i’ve done

morgana: does anyone else feel an awkward tension whenever you see another person your age in the grocery store

gwaine: the number 87 kinda looks like a plague doctor

percival: you’ve just changed the fucking game

elyan: [|87

morgana: a lonely bitch...a loner...i love isolation AND detachment

gwaine: i will not call the judges “your honor”. in america we don’t have titles of nobility. they will get a simple “yes dude” from me

gwaine: calling big bird just “bird” because i do not respect him

morgause: *photo of a pizza in a bad* caught the bae sleepin

mordred: now why would you waste a perfectly good pizza :(

morgause: that “waste” happens to be my wife getting her beauty sleep. think before you speak

gwaine: *finishes wedding vows* don’t forget to like and subscribe

morgana: *is bitter but is also right*

morgana: how dare you not notice me when i’m ignoring you

morgause, killing cenred: men be like i’m bilingual i speak english and over women

gwaine: after i move i really wanna get a used roomba

percival: i love that you’re adopting instead of buying from a breeder

mordred: joking about a kink is a gateway drug into developing said kink

morgana: my kink is mental, emotional, and financial stability

morgause: unrealistic, settle for choking like normal people

gaius: gay people use halloween props as home decor year round

morgana: shut up shut up this black jar with a raven painted on it is holiday-neutral

[texting]

morgause: can you come out?

morgana: yeah gimme a minute

morgana: morgause, i’m gay

morgause: i know that. come out to the car

morgana: car, i’m gay

morgause: God FUCKING damnit i’m such a hopeless romantic one day someone’s gonna say “i love you” and i’m just going to let out an agonized scream so horrible that they immediately change their mind

gaius: i’m not wearing glasses anymore i’ve seen enough

morgause: sorry my battery’s on 96% i gtg

morgause: you hate me? wow you think you’re hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so you can go grab a number and wait your turn

morgana: don’t ignore me ?? i despise being ignored ?? i mean i’m ignoring like 8 people right now but still ???

morgana: shoutout to my favorite coping mechanism, isolation

morgana: the concept of physical beauty is a scam unless you’re calling me cute in which case it is valid, actually

merlin: oh, so when other people go outside it’s “good for their health” and “highly recommended”, it’s only when i do it that it’s a “containment breach” and a “high-level threat to public safety and security”, huh?

gwaine: a charming photo of young john mulaney, seemingly celebrating the kennedy assassination

merlin: princess diana wasn’t john mulaney’s first kill

morgause: hate when i got out in public and the public is there

morgana: it seems the public is no longer in the public

morgause: i’ve won...but at what cost?

morgana: girls will see a chance to commit arson and be like “sorry, i have to take this”

morgause: girls will see a building that’s not on fire and say “is anyone gonna burn that” and not wait for an answer

#puff does things #long post

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sumeshi-t · 5 years ago

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✨ self-ship tag game ✨

PART 2 | IwaLee (here you go, discord)

sorry if it's corny/cheesy LMAO my brain empty i can't think of anything to make for iwa's birthday i'm such a dumbass. was also supposed to draw an nsfw-ish thing for this but ya girl is feelin’ out of it lately sjhfalhj

How we met:

okay let’s just say i’m smart enough to land myself a scholarship in socal since i’m taking physical therapy anyway

i feel like... we would meet in the library LMAO what asian nerds

maybe i’d end up bothering him with the way i’m murmuring anatomy stuff and talking to myself when studying

so he overhears me struggling to remember that one word and he’s gonna fucking answer for me like okay sorry bud i’m stupid

jk i won’t react like that i’d just be like, “yes!” and turn to look at whoever it was who answered and say thank you because i’m so immersed in my own bubble of “knowledge” and big brain

when i notice that he’s actually cute i’d be fucking red in the ears out of embarrassment when he tells me to tone my voice down lmao so i apologize for being a bother :(

actually says, “don’t mind” damnit his english do be cute. just two asian kids far from home with accents

it’s awkward, but i’d steal glances at what he’s studying. would probably get caught after a looong while, but it’s bc i’ll be blanking off, brain tired

“do you have anything you want to ask?” he’ll be dropping his pen over his notes leaning back and stretching, bending his neck, rolling his shoulders while waiting for my answer

“omg i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to stare.” then i ask what his program is just bc he could be in one of my classes and i didnt know

anyway, turns out our schedules were pretty similar, we live in the same area/dorm, so like there’s always a chance for us to meet somehow

we wouldn’t give numbers to eo on that same day; like give it about two weeks of constantly bumping into eo before that happens

watch me share my highlighters with him, exchanging notes, passing some snacks beneath the table like its weed or sumn

from lib meetings to getting lunch together to being invited to watch his games (in freshman year i’d still go because i’d be less busier)

i would definitely use the honorifics on him, from “iwaizumi-san” gradually to “iwa-kun”; he won't admit that he likes it because it's a little piece of home

would convince to practice palpation with him because his body is a perfect example–

"wh-why don't you ask someone from your class?"

"i'm not that close with—are you blushing? omg you are!"

somehow i joke around, "i won't touch your dick," then i'd laugh at his reaction.

anyway, in return for using his body as a model, i have to sit through a godzilla marathon with him

the first time he sees me breakdown from the stress he's kinda flustered at first; but he's seen similar things with oikawa so he has a faint idea what to do. damn his hugs feel so warm, so safe

i'm quicker to open up to him, once i got comfortable; and reassurance that if he needed someone to talk to i'll also be there

basically a slow burn best friends to lovers kinda thing

ngl i'd be crushing on him by the time we're entering second year maybe? but because we're friends i always throw the thought away because i don't wanna ruin what we have

but da heart wants what it wants

it would take: the teasing of his buddies back at japan after seeing him post ig pics of us together (it was me who did it, i grabbed his phone); and, my own set of friends getting annoyed at me for always being in denial—all these just for us to finally come into terms with what we feel for eo

"i have something to tell you," we'll say to eo before we enter the lib ksksksk

"oh, you go first-" "no, you-"

it's awkward but i'll be the first to confess and he's 👁👁

"you... what?" "smh don't make me say it again, iwa. does this mean we're not friends anymore?"

"yeah"

"oh..."

"because i like you too. you... wanna go out with me?"

First date x type of dates:

study dates are automatically a thing for sure; we've upgraded from lib to cafe dates

since we're like, friends before this, potential stuff for first dates are already crossed out since we've kinda done them already???

so this issue was raised and his mind said, "then let's redo everything,"

the first thing we did outside campus was go on a foodtrip. because i was craving filo food, and he was craving jap food. and then i have this kinda habit that when i get to eat something delicious, i silently squeal or hum in my seat he finds that cute

the "first date" doesn't really have to be grand because we're like... close friends with feelings. so we don't have to try hard to please each other. everything just feels natural when we're together

anyway, we try out the food we didn't have before. he still prefers sinigang over adobo. he's still kinda amazed where i put all the food after eating a bowl of ramen that's good for two

he's gonna take a pic of me in that excited face i make when the food is placed before me and make it his wallpaper (homescreen) secretly

after that, we're just walking, me telling him about something i watched or nerd talk, then he slips his hand against mine, holding it and pulling me closer that it makes me shut up–so he laughs

"that's all it takes to get you quiet, babe?"

"w-what? also... did you just call me babe? because i didn't think i'd like it,"

"i know something you'll like," he stops walking, then, with his free hand he cups my face and pulls in for a kith kith 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

i am blushing when i tell him, "that your first kiss?"

"y-yeah, why?"

"same"

we were already walking and he swoops in for a quick peck again, "then that's the second,"

he says that with a little frown on his face, cheeks also flushed and ugh soft!lee—i lean my head against his arm because i'm too short to put it above his shoulder. but anyway i tell him, "didn't think you had it in you to be this soft for me,"

"sh-shut up"

it doesn't seem romantic because ✨it doesn't have to be when we're already happy✨

While we’re dating:

he saves all the selfies i send him; whether it's the meme-ish ones or just me feelin' good about myself he's got them saved

notebooks getting interchanged kskskss it's terrible because one minute i'm reading my notes about pharma, then i flip a page and i see stuff about sports science like–???

tho what makes it cute is that he has tiny scribbles on corners in hiragana or maybe kanji and some random zigzag lines over some words–a sign that he fell asleep with a pen in his hand

i have lots of caps (that are majority of my dad's but i like them all so i brought sum) and he just... gets one from behind my door (it's the same energy as the hoodies thing)

and i 🥺 bc he actually looks good in caps like??? sir that's illegal

ok but walks in the beach at sunset

also surfer!iwa???? mhhhh yes yes living the dream honestly

ofc volleyball is involved, he's kinda pleased i can play decently. it's either the gym or vb

he would force me to go to the gym smh "you're a PT aren't you? shouldn't you be moving around too?" i'm gonna grumble but the sight of his er, toned body before during and after exercising is the best reward

actually its a win-win, he likes how my butt is outlined by my jog pants and how for him, i still look good even if i'm sweaty all over

hehe we'd end up getting horny by the time we reach the dorms–you know the rest and afterwards:

"so, you'll go to the gym more often now?"

"if it ends up like this, i wouldn't mind,"

we teach eo our mother language! but only on our spare time. omg imagine him telling me "mahal na mahal kita"??? i'm??? or when he's chatting with oikawa (especially that one time he sent a selfie of him and ushijima) he uses tagalog swear words if he just wants to mess with his best friend

vidcalls with each other's fam—i mean, for my parents they know we've been always close, and like, it will be my grandma/dad who'd ask him, "when will you court my granddaughter/daughter?"

he got so nervous, he stuttered, "i'm... i'm courting her already,"

anyway they approve of him because he is smart^TM and a good man 🥺 because they know he has ambitions in life the same way that i do have my own goals i wanna achieve

meanwhile me, i'm gonna be so nervous trying to speak to his fam, but they're all so sweet so i tell him afterwards, "so that's where you get the softies,"

anyway since this is college we're talking about, every passing year, we both become busy, especially when internships come around

but when he can, he'll fetch me from the hospital with comfort food because he knows it's been a rough day and he wants to make sure i'm taking care of myself 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 lowkey i try to do the same for him because he deserves it; but he says it's okay and that i should be preserving my energy for my studies 😭

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simplyyeol · 6 years ago

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what happens in paris

genre — soulmate! au, fluff, angst-ish

pairing — baby boy pcy x reader

word count — 10.085 what the fuck

warnings — language

description — you find yourself going on a trip to paris with your soulmate. it’s not too bad if you manage to overlook the fact that he hates your guts.

author’s note — hello! i don’t really know if i did this au well or not, but you know. me. back at it again with the cliches. sorry in advance, there is alot of cliche i hope it didn’t drag out too long i tried to incorporate a lot of thought bc character development! idk. also this might be my favorite thing i’ve written so far gahhd! yeah. anyways, enjoy! this took way longer than it should’ve

A smile bloomed on your face as you hopped out of the taxi, the driver coming around to help your excited state grab your luggage from the trunk. You politely said your thank you, bowing, having already paid in the car before practically skipping inside the terminal.

Checking your phone, the online check-in page of your ticket confirmation shown before you double-checked the text. You were at the right terminal, you thought. Nothing had gone wrong so far. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before entering the airport.

The line for the online check-in was thankfully short as you passed through that with smiles. There was still two hours until your boarding time you noticed, stopping in the middle of the crowd, not certain on where to go next. Baekhyun had said he would meet you at the airport—you'd forgotten to ask him where and when.

That was when you saw Chanyeol.

Or he saw you. There was something in the air that made your eyes tear away from your screen, your finger hovering over Baekhyun's contact. Something made you drawn towards his broad figure, that made you catch his eye when his wardrobe was nothing special—it wouldn't have caught your eye given someone else was wearing the same thing. Then again, you pondered, he is your soulmate. Maybe he felt whatever it was too as his step faltered, taking you in, with no one surrounding you. If it weren’t for the mop of striking silver hair he’d dyed it earlier in the year, or his long limbs, or even his pointy ears that stood out from under his beanie, you would’ve never guessed it was him. Or you would’ve. Only because of the sixth sense you get when you meet your soulmate.

Not many people meet their soulmate. It’s a fact. You’d had to do a research paper on it once in middle school and if you remember correctly, only 8% of the world’s population find their soulmate. And you happened to be in that 8%.

You’d seen him at the beginning of freshman year, during your first week, when you felt something wash over you as he made eye contact. Like someone poured a ton of warmth and covered you with a blanket while giving you some hot cocoa. You’ve only ever heard of soulmates with happy endings so when he’d turned away, a frown etched on his handsome face, the fantasies running through your head broke like a dam.

He wasn’t in any of your courses last year, or your first year, but this year he was.

In your Statistics course to be exact. You’re honestly not that bad at statistics. The concepts are fine. You do pretty well on the tests too. However, you still despised Statistics with a hatred that ran deep. Obviously due to him, if that wasn’t clear enough.

Chanyeol doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t go out of his way to annoy you, tease you, or pick on you. He’s not particularly fond of you either. Maybe he knows you. You don’t know if he knows your name—although there is attendance so you could beg to differ—he acts as if you aren’t there. That his soulmate isn’t there.

The only possible honest to God answer you’ve gotten as to why he doesn’t talk to you, acts like you are nothing, like a piece of gum on someone’s shoe, is because he doesn’t like you. You’ve even overheard him telling Baekhyun that you aren’t his type. You weren’t there to hear anything else as you fled from there, eyes glassy with tears. Chanyeol is very handsome. You’d begrudgingly admitted that when you actually noticed how many girls flank his sides while he merely walks through the campus corridors. He’s tall, sporting a modelesque face, thin but you were sure he packed in some muscle underneath, and he has an amazing sense of fashion. Girls are lining over for him, left and right.

And you—you’re just lacking. In your eyes at least. And Chanyeol’s as well.

He really took one look at you and deemed you not pretty enough to be his soulmate. He is the guy that dates the girls in the modeling and acting majors with a body and face that rival any female celebrity. You couldn’t possibly beat any of them.

If you thought about it frankly, it was pathetic. How horribly he treats you. How you look at him from the sidelines with a spotlight shining over him when he doesn’t even glance your way. How you know--even though fate literally attached you to him--it’ll never happen. You’ve gotten mad and ranted with Baekhyun about it as well (he got mad with you and claimed to come and beat him up for you, but you quickly declined not wanting to ruin his face because you just knew he would lose--and you didn’t want him to fight his friend. Yeah, your soulmate who hates you and your best friend are friends. Lucky, right?) and you said that you’d show him a piece of your mind. But the next day, your entire demeanor deflated. The voice in the back of your head started its whispering. Don’t bother him, you already know how he feels about you. And the anger left you.

You’ve come to terms with it now—only sending the back of his head in class a few sad smiles from time to time and other than that you ignore him. If he ignores you, you should ignore him. Why should you pine over someone who barely knows you exist? (Your tiny crush on him says otherwise and acts accordingly.)

You were surprised to see him here of all places and with the luggage too. Apparently, Chanyeol was traveling for the holidays as well. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly you felt like he was analyzing you. You felt small and almost like you were about to suffocate. You tore your eyes away from him and back to your screen. Just a coincidence, you thought. No need for any bad thoughts, Y/N! Can’t let that trouble you and ruin your big, big day! Or well week since you were going to paradise for a whole five days. Too short, now that you think about it.

At the thought of why you were at the airport suddenly came crashing back on you, your previous jitters returning, you quickly pressed on your roommate's number, the calling screen popping up before you pressed it to your ear.

“Y/N? Are you here yet?” Baekhyun asked. You and Baekhyun went to the same high school and had bonded over your similar love for SNSD. You would skip class together to watch the comeback showcase and your friendship only grew from there. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when you and Baekhyun ended up going to the same college. Not many of his friends were keen on living alone, leaving the two of you on one side. You decided to live together seeing no problems arise.

“I am. Checked in my bag and I’m kind of in front of the entrance?” You said, scanning the mass of people to see if you could spot him.

“Okay, one sec, Cha—my friend is checking in his bag right now...can you meet us at the Starbucks?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You cut the call and made your way over to the Starbucks you spotted earlier.

You and Baekhyun were supposed to be going on a trip of the lifetime—to Paris of all places! It was a dream that both of you had had. He’d gone and done everything, his excitement to the max at the thought of finally being able to go traveling with you. However, in the end, he couldn’t come. He’d gotten a promotion at a radio, something he couldn’t miss. It was a big step in his singing career--people would actually be hearing him now—and you’d sadly accepted the fact that you wouldn’t be able to go with him.

He still didn’t want you going alone, the best friend he was and somehow managed to convince a friend of his to go with you. You asked which friend of his (he had too many) but he stubbornly told you it’d be a surprise. You were okay with anyone except for one person, but you had a bad feeling that crawled up your spine after your previous encounter.

You tapped at your phone, sipping your drink while playing a game that your 9-year old cousin had demanded you download as it was a must by her standards.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see Baekhyun standing over your table. You dropped your phone, practically tackling him and squealing, pulling him into a hug, the excitement rolling off you in waves.

“Well, aren’t you excited.” He mused.

“So much, you don’t even know.” You voiced, pulling back before pouting. “Now you have to tell me. Who is it?”

He smirked before cocking his head to the side. Your head whipped to where he was gesturing.

“No—” you spluttered seeing the familiar face.

“Chanyeol!” He called waving his arms, motioning for him to come here, while you had your mini panic attack.

You looked at him, something akin to fear displayed on your face. You almost threw up half the macchiato you downed just a few minutes before seeing Chanyeol rolling his luggage with him.

Baekhyun smiles, beaming, before leaning closer to your ear. “You'll thank me later.”

The excitement form your face has fully washed off, as you purse your lips. “I don’t think so, Baek.”

“See this is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d act like this.” He pouted before turning around and pulling Chanyeol to you.

“Hi.” Chanyeol starts, slowly, cautiously, as he sees you looking anywhere but at him. Was he okay with this? Going to another fucking country with you? Was he not freaking out? Did Baekhyun tell him that it was you he was going with? No— did Baekhyun bribe him? You felt small under your soulmate's eyes, and you hated it.

You almost feel like crying, and you don’t even know why as you wave a heartless wave back. You can’t deal with this right now. Nope. No way. You choose not to.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bathroom. You head into a stall and give yourself ten seconds. Ten seconds to cry before you put on a smile. A tiny sob racks out of your chest and you thank God your relationship with Chanyeol hasn’t progressed enough for him to feel your feelings. You’d actually die if that was the case.

You take a deep breath when you hit one and quickly dab at your eyes with your over-sized hoodie. At least you didn’t wear any mascara. You press the tips of your fingers, which are slightly cold, to your eyes, afraid of the puffiness before walking out of the stall. You give yourself a smile seeing no trace. You can do this. This is nothing. If anything, maybe you can try and get to know him on the trip, and maybe learn more about him and why he doesn’t like you. You paused glancing at your sparkling eyes. Nothing can ruin your first trip abroad, by yourself. Not even him. The smile you sported suddenly felt a lot less heavy from before your pep talk. I can do this, you repeated like a mantra. You whisper to yourself a small ‘fighting!’ before you walk out of the bathroom to go meet your doom.

Chanyeol frowns when he sees you, as a small thank you passes from your lips when you see your backpack on his shoulder since they’d moved from the cafe. You shoulder your backpack, ignoring the stare that you could literally feel on you from a certain giant.

“Great!” Baekhyun announces, not seeming to notice the tension between you to. Or maybe he chose to ignore it. Or it was just your imagination. “Now that you two are energized and ready to go, I’ll be taking my leave—"

“Wait!” You interject. A blush settles on your face when you realize you sounded a little too panicked to be considered cool, calm and collected. Not freaking out on the inside. “Uh...goodbye hug?” He chuckles at your excuse and opens his arms. You give him a small smile and walk in, glad for the warmth that the man practically radiates. You’re actually going to miss the annoying idiot. Even though you were going to Paris, he had wanted to go too. It was on both your bucket lists and you felt sad that he wouldn’t be there to experience it with you.

“We can always go next time,” he mutters, practically reading your thoughts. “Don’t be sad.” He let’s go, smiling down at you, and you pout as he pats your head in a teasing manner. He gives Chanyeol the more masculine hug, bro-hug you like to call it, and says his last words, turning around to leave, two of you now alone.

Well, you both were still in the airport where hundreds of people surrounded you but still, alone.

You spoke up, not sure of what to do next. “I guess we should go too—" Chanyeol turns seeing Baekhyun exit, the airport giving you one last dramatic wave, not sparing you a glance before leaving. “Or not,” You mutter, dejectedly, hurrying to follow behind him. You didn’t know if you should follow him, but the two of you were technically traveling together, right? Couldn’t hurt if you annoy him a little more.

You got on the plane with no hassle. It was a long flight, 12 hours to be exact, the longest you’ve ever been on a plane—and it wasn’t until you boarded, and put your backpack overhead, Chanyeol helping you put yours as he saw you struggling when you realized you were scared. Well, a scared type of nervous. A nervous type of scared. You forgot about the jitters that always seem to crawl up behind you when you take off. Something about the plane tilting so weird made butterflies flutter in your stomach. And not the good kind.

Your hands gripped the handlebars a little too tight, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes were shut closed as the plane lifted and you missed the glances Chanyeol sent your way seeing your frenzied state. You should really get rid of this stupid fear.

One thing you’ve noticed is that you can never sleep on planes. Well, just the first part. Trying to sleep right after taking off? Yeah, you could never. You saw Chanyeol pull an eye mask from his bag and put it on and mentally made a note to maybe try that sometime. Maybe it’d help.

The time on the tiny TV in front of you said there were almost six hours left. Halfway there. You turned from listening to music to watching a movie, and you were scrolling through the new Disney movies that were released this year when you felt something land on your shoulder.

You managed a peek and froze. It was Chanyeol. He’d wiggled out in his seat, legs awkwardly spread as they were too long from the cramped up seat and he somehow came to your height, head lolling on your shoulder. You glanced at the person sitting next to Chanyeol, an old man in his late 40’s. At least he didn’t land on him.

You let go of the breath you were holding not feeling him move and continuing to find another movie. The position looks as comfortable as it gets for an economy class ticket to Paris. You’d spare your shoulder if it meant his comfort any day.

Maybe it was after the third movie you fell asleep on Chanyeol’s head that was still resting on your shoulder.

So when he woke and found you sleeping on his head, it was the hardest minute of his life to move you comfortably to his shoulder without waking you up.

He looked at your face, a pout lining your lips. He wanted nothing more than to smash his lips on them.

When Baekhyun had asked if he'd wanted to go on a trip with you, cautiously of course (he knew your relationship with him), he'd accepted thinking that maybe he should try. He should try this whole soulmate thing with you when Baekhyun explained to him that his parents were just horrible. Not at all like what soulmates become.

He started to regret it after seeing you at the airport and now all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his embrace and smother you with kisses. The stupid soulmate bond getting in the way of his rational thoughts. It didn't help that the hoodie you were wearing was over-sized, practically swallowing you making you look even more adorable.

He looked away, groaning, his head falling back against the seat. This is not good.

He saw the movie you were watching still playing and lightly chuckled seeing as your headphones were still on. You must’ve been really tired to have slept through that noise. He peeled them off, carefully, and turned off the screen before resting his head on yours again. He found that it was much more comfortable than the seat behind him as his eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking him once again.

When you woke, Chanyeol was already awake and your chest tightened, hoping beyond belief he didn’t mind you leaning against him. You couldn’t have him hating you any more or getting the wrong idea. But what could be the wrong idea? You were simply sleeping. Even if he did, his face was void of emotion so if he did care, he shrugged it off—maybe saying something your unconscious body had done, so it wasn’t your fault. You blew a breath out, thankful to spare the embarrassment that would’ve come if he had questioned you before the seat belt sign had turned off. You’d officially landed.

Chanyeol had gotten your backpack that you’d gratefully taken from him as you boarded off the plane.

The Paris airport was bustling to the brim and you could only look with wide eyes at everything surrounding you. It intrigued you, how everything looked so similar. All the elements of the Seoul airport were there, but it was so different at the same time. The feeling of Paris seeped through the small cracks as you saw everything laid in front of you.

How instead of Korean and English, it was French and English printed on the signs overhead. A voice in the back of your head said the language of love, and you couldn’t help but think how ironic it was, in your situation.

No mishaps had occurred as you got to the hotel you’d be staying at for the next week. You’d checked in, both you and Chanyeol having separate rooms, although they were next to each other. You’d quickly said no when they asked if you’d like to change to a single room. The blush that stained your cheeks had stayed up the elevator until you scrambled into your room and muttered a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ to Chanyeol.

You spent the rest of the evening washing up and organizing the events you’d already booked for tomorrow. You wondered if Baekhyun was still awake and were reaching for your phone to text him when your stomach growled. You groaned remembering that you’d slept through the in-flight meal and the last thing you’d digested was that measly drink from Starbucks. Maybe you should go and get dinner.

You looked at the menu booklet that you’d found on the sleek coffee table in the corner of the room, that showed the items for room service but blanched at the price of each plate. The hotel Baekhyun reserved was exquisite, to say the least. You counted the money that you’d exchanged earlier at the airport and deemed that you’ll exchange some more tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t hurt to skip dinner if you just slept now.

A knock at the door had made you freeze in your spot, sprawled on the floor. You got up, not expecting anyone and looked through the peephole, curiously. Chanyeol was standing there, his eyes cast downwards as he scrolled through his phone. You’d scrambled back. Why was he here? Was there something wrong? Did he lose something? You peaked again and noticed his casual stature. It doesn’t look like anything is wrong…maybe he just forgot something trivial and needed to borrow it for you. You popped your hood, thinking your hair was probably a mess, hoping that nothing was actually up before opening the door.

“Oh, you’re still awake.” His eyes raked your figure up and down, and your feet shuffled, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I was just going to grab some food—you didn’t have dinner yet, did you?”

You shook your head. “I’m not that hungry—”

The rumbling of your stomach interrupted you. A blush settled on your cheeks as a small smile painted his handsome face. You managed a nervous chuckle before saying you’ll be out in ten and softly shut the door behind you. After you were sure the lock had clicked, you’d stumbled to your bed and dived head first before thrashing a little, heart soaring through the clouds. Did Park Chanyeol just ask you to go out with him?

You settled for a small diner that lined the streets next to your hotel. The aroma when you entered the restaurant made you salivate at how good it smelled.

You were excited for the food until you saw the waitress practically waltz to your table. She was blonde, tall, with long legs, and big breasts. You couldn’t help but think she was pretty even as she gave a very inappropriate look to your soulmate. She leaned over the table, showing off even more cleavage and you rolled your eyes.

And then you saw Chanyeol. And where exactly he was looking. You scoffed as she sent you a smirk and a tiny part inside of you died remembering when he had said you weren’t his type. Maybe she was his type. You glanced at your chest and suddenly felt small in comparison.

His eyes fluttered to yours as you quickly looked back at your menu, embarrassed as you’d been caught staring at him. What’s wrong with you? You’re not his type and nothing can change that.

The waitress had walked back, a bounce in her step, knowing the effect she had on Chanyeol, after taking your orders and you’d been down in the dumps since.

Dinner was silent until you tried breaking the silence. It couldn’t possibly hurt to try and know more about your travel buddy if not soulmate, could it?

“What are you majoring in?” You chanced, eyes wide as you took another bite of your pasta, eyes focused on him.

He looked up at you and swallowed. “Music.”

You hummed. It made sense. Chanyeol seemed like...a free spirit. He doesn’t seem like the person who would want to major in something sturdy like law or medicine because his parents told him to. A content smile spread over his lips and you realized that he must love what he does.

“What about you?”

“Oh, um, business.” You gave him a small smile. “Boring, right? I’ve always wanted to learn guitar.” You said, sadly. “Seems fun.”

“Business isn’t..boring.” He mused, questionably you’d add, and then. “Why didn’t you?” He questions, lips down-turned.

“My parents thought it was a waste of money.” You played with the pasta on your plate, fork scratching the glass. You’d never gave it a second thought. If your parents used that excuse, that usually meant it would never happen. Money was a touchy subject in your family, as you didn’t grow up in a lavish environment. “Never got the chance.”

“I could teach you.” Your head shot up, confused at his words. “Maybe when we get back.”

“Why?” You said, cocking your head. Why would he want to teach you guitar on top of his classes and probably extracurriculars? He also had his own social life.

“What do you mean why?” He questioned back.

“I—um, never mind.” Gosh, why did you have to ask that? You don’t even know what you were saying anymore. “Thank you,” you quickly added.

It’s silence until you speak up about the thing that’s been bothering you. “Baekhyun said that he convinced you to come with me—is that right?”

“Yeah. He said it when all of the guys were out. I’ve always wanted to go abroad.”

“Did you know you’d be coming with me?” You asked, hesitantly, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah.”

You wondered if you should bring up the part about how he treated you, but a voice in the back of your head told you to just go for it. You’re on the topic already.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“I mean, you don’t even talk to me, and you can’t possibly be clueless as to the fact that we’re soulmates.” His eyes widen, as you realize this is the first time you made it known. Sure you knew it, thought about it, practically every day, and you’re sure he knows it too. But this is the first time the both of you are actually discussing it. You scoffed inside. You’d known him for almost three years and this is the first time it’s come up between the two of you.

“I don’t hate you,” he mutters.

“What?” This is, what you'd call frustrating. “Well, I know I’m not your type but that doesn’t mean you have to reject me being your soulmate. You didn’t even give me a chance—” you choke, halting your tirade.

He cocks his head. “I never told you, you weren’t my type—”

“I heard,” you interjected. “Freshman year, you told Baekhyun in our apartment and I heard. And I get that I’m not what you want, but you never even gave me a chance.” You look at him, pleadingly, before sighing. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I—I don’t hate you,” he splutters.

“You don’t have to lie.” You state, standing up from the table. Where all your confidence is coming from, only God knows. His hand shoots out to hold your arm and you pull it away, goosebumps rising, when you felt a small shock from that touch.

You glare at him. “If you don’t hate me, then it’s okay to say you don’t like me being your—”

“I just never wanted a soulmate, okay?” He interjects, eyebrows furrowed at you. “It’s not you.” You falter. It wasn’t you he didn’t want. It was the fact he never wanted what you were to him. “I don’t hate you, okay.” He looked at you, eyes big and soft before confessing. “I kind of wanted to go on this trip with you.”

You slowly sat back down, mouth effectively shut up for the rest of dinner, thoughts consuming you as you finished off your plate. He never wanted a soulmate? So when he said he wanted to go with you, he meant to get you know you as a friend? Were you just friend-zoned by him? Something in your gut didn’t feel right and you remembered how you had a tiny crush on him. Totally not platonic feelings. Is this really what your future will be? You mentally slammed your head against the table. Maybe you should get up and leave his forever, because you just know that you’ll fall for him even more, if you started this. But there was still a small part in your heart that just said, take what you could get. Maybe it’ll work in your favor. You glanced at the man in question, chomping on a bread stick while scrolling through his phone seemingly unaffected. He still is your soulmate. Just the thought of leaving him seemingly made your heart break into pieces that could never be put back together.

“The food’s really good,” was all you could manage, trying a light tone.

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

When the bill came around you rummaged through your purse for the right note but Chanyeol had already handed the correct amount.

“Wait, no, it’s fine I can pay half, what are you doing—”

“I pay this time and you pay the next?” He offered, already handing over the money. You frowned at him huffing an okay not really seeing a choice before waiting for him at the entrance.

As you strolled the Parisian streets next to Chanyeol, you realized that he said the next time also. Did that mean he wanted to eat with you, again? Your heart couldn’t help but flutter a smile growing on your lips at the possibilities that swam through your mind. And then you remembered. He didn’t want a soulmate. The smile was gone.

Maybe you should’ve just skipped dinner.

In the past few months, you’ve visited every top tourist attraction website you could find on the whole internet including Paris and finally, after the very long wait, you got to experience it.

Today marks the first day of your trip in Paris. You’d be going to the Moulin Rouge before taking a cruise on the Seine.

You were getting ready, having just gotten out of the shower and settling for a pair of jeans and a hoodie with your long coat over from the chilly weather forecast of today, when you felt it.

A searing pain on your forearm pulling a shriek from you. You ran towards the sink feeling tears prick at your eyes because that really fucking hurt. And based on previous knowledge that was a burn. You had gotten a burn when you were nowhere near anything hot. Which meant only one other thing.

It was Chanyeol. You'd been bonded. You laughed heartlessly as the cold water washed over your skin. He said he didn’t want a soulmate and the very next day you get bonded to him. How amazing.

You’ve figured out over the day that Chanyeol is very clumsy. You’ve got bruises on your knees, elbows, and finger when you think that he slammed his finger on a door. He was literally going to be the death of you and it hasn’t even been one fucking day, you think.

You decide to bring it up to him, even though you knew you’d probably forget. You have low pain tolerance. If anything else you’ll go into shock living with this bond for the rest of your life, you thought.

The Seine left you absolutely awestruck. You’d boarded a cruise for the evening, the tour guide explaining that it was the prettiest during sunset. And she wasn’t wrong.

The pinks and orange hues faded into the blue as you saw the sunset far off. The purple and black of the night took over the sky and you couldn’t help but sigh at the beauty it held. It was almost time to get off and you, Chanyeol and a young couple--you guessed in their early 30’s sat at a table. You’d ordered a soda and Chanyeol a tea.

A big mistake you liked to call it. The boat rocked just as Chanyeol’s lips were to taste the matcha and the piping hot burn seared on your chest right where he had spilled it. You’d spilled the coke you were holding over your shirt as well from the shock, on your white button-up shirt, before you huffed setting down the empty glass. He can’t possibly know that you’ve been bonded when you were taking the brunt of the hits.

“Are you always burning yourself or what?” You barked, turning to Chanyeol who was sporting a similar stain to your own. He had tissues in his hand when he looked down at your shirt, then back to your face as a blush coated his features.

“What?” He called.

“This morning, you burned yourself on something didn’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you know—?”

“Are you fucking stupid or—" you rolled up your sleeve and pinched the supple skin there, and he yelped.

“No...” He breathed.

“Yes. So please, try and be more careful from now on.”

The couple which Chanyeol found had an adorable kid took their seats on the chairs across from you. He looked around only now noticing that the deck was packed, many lingering around the edges of the deck, not having a seat. Thank God, you’d grabbed a seat beforehand and told him to keep his stuff so someone wouldn’t take your seat. He couldn’t fathom standing for a whole two hours with sore legs, if only from strolling through Paris in the afternoon.

Chanyeol watched the couple bicker, lovingly, before one of their kids spilled scalding hot tea over the father. He chuckled. That just happened to him as well. But what came next shocked him.

The mother turned to the child who looked upon his parents, bottom lip trembling, tears spilling out. “I’m sorry, did it hurt a lot?” He cried.

Chanyeol thought he only spilled the tea on the father before he caught a glance of an angry red on the mother’s forearm. Right where the father was wiping it with a tissue.

“It’s okay, it was only an accident, don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt that much.” The mother soothed the child, shushing him.

He realized. The couple was bonded. With a child. His mind was in a frenzy before your voice next to him pulled out from his thoughts.

“Are you two soulmates?” You asked, eyes sparkling and lips pulled into a smile.

The couple nodded as a small, dreamy sigh left your lips and only Chanyeol could see the tiniest motion as you deflated.

“That’s lovely.” You spoke before your eyes met Chanyeol’s.

Chanyeol looked straight at you, gaze unwavering as he thought of how maybe this whole time he’s seen it wrong. You were surprised, quickly looking away from his eyes, a sudden blush rising in your cheeks.

Maybe it really could be different for him.

You’d woken up the next morning absolutely ecstatic for the busy day to come. The prospect of seeing the Palace of Versailles—all the greenery, the history hidden behind each stone placed, the architecture—something you’ve only dreamed of seeing in person sent jitters all over again through your body. This is exactly what you wanted when you planned to travel.

You checked the time and remembered that you forgot to remind Chanyeol last night that the bus would arrive earlier. A voice in the back of your mind told you not to tell him but then you remembered. He was in Paris because he wanted to travel. You know how excited you were—you couldn’t possibly do that to him. You figured that you should go right now but quickly chickened out, deeming it too awkward for you to go to his door and knock. Sure, your relationship has gotten a little better (he did want to be friends with you)—and he doesn’t treat you like dirt anymore but nothing like the dreams you’ve dreamed of.

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact--having gotten his number for emergencies. Both of you had gotten international plans for the trip as roaming charges were never pleasant.

chanyeol?

are you up?

Even after ten minutes, he didn’t reply and he couldn’t possibly be ignoring you. He wouldn’t stoop that low. You hesitated before thinking, fuck it, and pressing the call button.

It rang a few times before he picked up his groggy morning voice filling your ear. “Y/N? Is there something wrong?”

Your stomach leaped at how his words slurred and you thought of how adorable he would look. No, bad Y/N. Don’t think like that. “Um, no, are you awake yet? The tour bus we're taking leaves at 9:30—”

“That’s today?” He interjects. “Shit, I should probably get ready—thank you, God, if you weren’t here—“

He hung up the call then and you lowered the phone a small smile playing on your lips. He’s glad that you’re here with him.

Later you hit your head against the wall of your bed because you are not supposed to be thinking those thoughts over what he says. He probably doesn’t mean how you think it means. You’re looking too into things, Y/N. You have got to stop.

You showed up at his door later, his promise of you paying for the next meal going through your thoughts. You don’t usually eat breakfast, but the thought of trying actual French croissants in France made your mouth water.

In the end, you made your way to the breakfast buffet at your hotel and took everything you thought look good in a to-go box for Chanyeol and you to share.

You'd rung the doorbell and after you heard a door shut inside and some more shuffling he opened the door. You yelped before turning around. He only had a towel on.

He smirked. “There’s still half an hour,” he remarked.

You lifted up the bag, now looking at the floor. “I brought breakfast.”

He tentatively took it from your fingers before sniffing it and moaning in pleasure. He walked inside to his room leaving the door open and you took that as permission to enter as well. “You are literally a godsend, Y/N, this smells amazing.”

Your blush darkens. “Should I wait, until you’re done dressing or—?”

“You can wait, I’ll be a minute,” he says and you hear what you think is the bathroom close before letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding. You flop on one of the chairs near the coffee table, identical to the one in your own room. That was way too much exposure for you at only nine in the morning. Did the universe hate you? Is that why your life is like this? You take your orange juice and chug it suddenly feeling a little too hot when you hear Chanyeol’s phone ring.

You look at the phone number with ‘Mother’ written and then to the bathroom. Is it nosy if you pick up? But what if it’s important? In the end, you pick up the phone, seeing as a few rings already passed. “Hello?”

“Hello, Chanyeol? Are you home, right now? Remember that book—”

“Um, Ma’am. This is Y/N, Chanyeol’s--um, friend.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Where’s Chanyeol?”

“He’s in the bathroom, right now.” Your eyebrows furrow, repeating what she said in your brain. Home? Did Chanyeol not tell her about being in Paris? You don’t say anything as you only hear static on the other side.

“Oh,” she finally replies, and you’re shocked at how uninterested she is. Does she really not know?

You hear the door open and Chanyeol sees you with his phone as you look at him.

“Who is it?” He asks across the room, hanging up his towel on the clothes rack to the side.

“Your mother,” you mouth. His eyes widen and it only takes him two strides to reach and snatch the phone from your hand. His face turns cold and you feel as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I’ll call you later, Mother.” He says, before hanging up.

You keep your lips closed as he sighs and looks at you. “Why did you pick up?”

“I—um,” you splutter.

“Whatever, just don’t do it again.” He snapped as you curled in yourself wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Apparently, you were being nosy.

He sprawls over the other chair, silently and unwraps the food. You watch him practically inhale the food, not making any move. He looks pissed.

“Sorry.” You both say simultaneously. You hold eye contact with him for an exact five seconds before he looks away.

“Did you not tell your mom that you were going to Paris?” You try. “Are…you not close with her?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then,

“My parents are soulmates.” Your eyes widen, microscopically. Well, this is big news. The fact that you even found your soulmate was huge. You don’t even know anyone close to you that has found their soulmate. And have a kid too.

“They treated me like a stranger and only cared about themselves and I—” he stopped, a slight tremble in his lips. “I thought that that was what the soulmate bond does to people. It makes them into parasites who don’t care for those around them.” He looks at you, eyes just the tiniest bit teary. “I never wanted a soulmate because of them. She couldn’t care less. Whether I’m in Korea or across the world.”

You put yourself in his shoes. The people in his life who were supposed to love you, take care of you, comfort you, cry with you, were absent in his life—his parents were nonexistent in his life. You went over what he said in your head. He thought it was because of the soulmate bond? That’s why he doesn’t want a soulmate?

“Chanyeol? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s because of the soulmate bond.” You blurt. He stops chewing on a sausage, looking at you. “I think they’re just assholes.” Your eyes widened. Wait, you didn’t mean to call his parents assholes! “Shit, that’s not what I—”

His boisterous laughter cuts through the room, bouncing off the walls, making it feel much livelier than what two—practically strangers—could do. “That’s what Baekhyun always says,” he chokes out between laughs. Is he one of those people who laugh at the stupidest of things? Because if he is, then you wouldn’t mind looking up the lamest dad jokes to get him laugh—no! Y/N, you can’t do that!

You find your resolve fading, though, as you can’t help but chuckle along with his never ending laughter.

The Louvre felt like a dream that you’d unnervingly stepped into. A tour guide was assigned to you, Chanyeol and a few other cute elderly couples wearing matching tourist shirts. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were soulmates too who’d grown old together—just like all the children stories said, the revelation from yesterday affecting your thoughts.

Your phone’s battery was quickly depleting if only from how many pictures you’d taken. You haven’t even reached half of the tour before your stomach is grumbling and to your embarrassment, Chanyeol, who has been walking next to you, hears it.

He calls to the tour guide and asks when they can stop for a lunch break and you all decide after you see the most famous exhibit: the Mona Lisa.

It didn’t take you long to stray from the group. Seeing as you’d go back after taking a closer picture, you’d used your height (which you’re usually very self-conscious about) to your advantage, passing through the hordes of people.

You’d gotten out of the crowd, finished with your admiration of the painting while you looked at the pictures you managed. They were pretty good if you said so yourself. Pocketing your phone, you looked up and tried spotting your group. You walked around a little, going back to where you’d parted before the realization hits you when you didn’t see them.

You quickly call Chanyeol, not knowing who else to call on this situation. He doesn’t pick up and you see that your battery is currently at 6%. This could not be happening to you right now.

You walked to a less populated part of the room suddenly feeling panicky at the hordes of people. There was probably a hundred people in this room right now and yet you knew none of them. You tried calling him again, afraid that your battery would die.

“Please, please, please, pick up,” you muttered like a mantra. Maybe God had sent you a gift when he picked up the phone.

“Chanyeol! Where are you right now, I can’t—“ your phone buzzed and you groaned seeing the screen go black. Your stupid phone with its stupid battery. Why did you take so many pictures again?

You tried looking on the bright side. He couldn’t be far, at the very most in another room. If anything he probably noticed that you aren’t by his side anymore (the both of you stuck together like glue today seeing as none of the other people in your group seemingly fit into people you could talk with). Hopefully, he’d find you soon enough. You’re a grown adult. You can’t be scared in broad daylight over nothing.

It’s been an hour and you still haven’t seen any sight of Chanyeol, and yes you were a grown adult who is totally capable of traveling alone, but you were scared. You could always go back to your hotel, but you left your money with Chanyeol as he’d brought a bigger bag and you didn’t have enough for a taxi fare back. So technically you couldn’t. Not being able to resist your hunger you’d managed to figure out where a nearby cafe was and used the rest of the money. You barely had enough for it too. You sat at one of the tables, munching on a sandwich and playing with your still dead phone. If only you had a charger.

And that’s when it hit you. This is the 21st century. Everyone had phones. With this many people, there’s probably one person with a charger—you sprung up and went to the counter hoping beyond belief your statement was correct.

“Hello? What can I get for you?” The women asked, shooting you a smile.

“Actually,” you started, “you don’t happen to have a phone charger on you, do you? My phone died and I lost my friend, and I need to call them but I don’t know his number.” You explained, a meek smile on your face.

She eyes your phone before her eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! You’re lucky that you have the same phone as me.” She gestured for you to come to the back through the opening on the side. You almost cried at the realization that you weren’t doomed.

“Thank you—" you paused, glancing at her name tag, “—Mia. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem, really, but, I have to get back to the counter, so...”

“Oh yeah, totally go ahead. I’m not going to steal any mugs if that’s what you’re saying.” You shooed her off, sending a smile before leaning against the counter, a sigh leaving your lips.

You wanted to go back to your sandwich, but an inkling in the back of your head told you not to lose your phone as well. So you stayed, keeping an eye out just in case. When your phone lit up again, it was at 20% and you’d harrumphed in excitement, unplugging the cord and making your way back to your table. You’d quickly finished the last of your sandwich before clicking the call button when someone grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N, what the fuck—” they said and you pulled away in shock.

You looked startled glancing at the young man breathing harshly beside you, hands resting on his knees as he takes a deep breath—you guessed--from running. It wasn’t until he raised his head that you realized you weren’t lost anymore.

“Chanyeol!” You exclaimed, and before you knew it you were tackling him in a hug. Maybe it was the fact that you’d gotten lost in a foreign country with a foreign language and you’d had no idea what to do. But seeing his face, a familiar face made tears prick at your eyes. He’d froze under your touch and you realized you were hugging him before you quickly let go. “Shit, sorry,” you rambled and pulled back, trying your best to blink away the tears. Why are you crying? What the hell? Is there something wrong with you?

He looked down at your weathered state and pulled you back into his arms in the middle of the debate in your head. You couldn’t help the tears that started rolling down your face, feeling the warmth emanate from him. You’re sure you soaked his hoodie as you wrap your arms around him, ear pressed against his heart as you heard the calm thump thump thump of his heartbeat that made you feel safer than ever before.

He refused to let you out of your sight for the rest of the day leaving you confused. Frazzled. Extremely concerned because where did the old Chanyeol go? Well, he had confessed that he kind of wanted to go on this trip with you. Technically that meant he wouldn't treat you horribly. This is what friends do for each other right? They look out for you. Well, you weren’t really complaining (even with how much he made you question yourself when he steered you closer to him when you'd strayed, his warm hands placed on your shoulders) as you were about to go take an angled picture of the Flying Carpet structure in the middle of the courtyard but was stopped by Chanyeol grabbing your hand.

You look back glancing at his hand in yours then back to his face, blushing. “I’m just going to go and take a picture—”

“Tell me,” he interrupted, “when you go somewhere else, okay?” His tone was soft, and all you could do was nod before he let go of your hand. You couldn’t even take a picture, his camera that you borrowed slipping out of your hands every time you thought of his warm hand clasped over yours.

Chanyeol watched as you stood underneath the Eiffel Tower, looking above you at the massive structure, a smile displayed lighting up your features.

“Will you take a picture for me?” You grinned. He nodded, taking the phone from your outstretched hand. And while you turned around he quickly took a few pictures on your phone, before he realized that he hadn’t taken any pictures himself. His camera was over on the bench so he patted his pocket to get his phone, as he always kept it there but froze not feeling the familiar weight.

His eyes widened before he strides towards his bag and hurriedly checked all the pockets. You’d walked over to him now, silently taking your phone from where he placed it on the bench next to him.

He groaned, after taking everything out of his bag and still not finding his phone. He couldn’t possibly have…lost it, could he? This is something big even for how forgetful Chanyeol is. He really went and lost his phone abroad. He looked at you and took in your concerned eyes, and then,

“I think I lost my phone.”

Maybe it was after ten minutes, twenty minutes—Chanyeol wasn’t sure because he didn’t have his fucking phone, but you already left his side after he broke the news—when you came back, silently taking a seat next to him.

“So I asked the tour guide,” you announced garnering Chanyeol’s attention as he looked at your calm stature. “And he said he’ll take us to the nearest police station.” You turned to him. “Can you try to retrace your steps, to see where you could’ve dropped it?”

He looked at you. He really looked at you as you blinked back at him, patiently waiting for him to answer. Over the days, over the days he spent with you, he’s realized something. You’ve been nothing short of amazing to him.

You were thoughtful, patient, you never got mad at him (except for whenever he gets an especially painful bruise--you have low pain tolerance, he’s noticed), and you laughed at the stupid jokes he tells you. He realized that he wanted nothing more than to keep that laugh on your face for the rest of your life. He wanted to make you laugh for the rest of your life. His heart stopped when he realized this isn’t what he wanted. When he had told you that he didn’t want a soulmate, he saw that loving glint in your eyes leave. He saw when you find yourself staring at him before looking away when he noticed. He saw how you restricted yourself, hesitating just the tiniest bit before doing something that friends don’t do. And over the days he realized. He was such a stupid idiot. And a hypocrite. And an asshole. He realized that he wanted you to be his soulmate. Even after just a few days ago he stated the exact opposite. Chanyeol groaned inwardly. He really fucked up, didn’t he?

You were for sure going to blow up in his face when he told you. You were shy sure, but he saw that you speak your mind when things get out of hand. Oh God, what if you say you didn’t want him as a soulmate anymore? Then what would he do?

“I think in the last taxi we were in.” He muttered as he saw you in another light, almost as if a halo was shining a top of you.

“Oh! Then if you didn’t put it on silent, maybe the driver will pick up!” You exclaimed, hurriedly pulling your phone out. “I’m so dumb, I should’ve done this earlier.” You tapped for a few seconds on your phone before pressing it to your ear.

You frowned when no one picked up.

After the third time, your face lit up, as you spoke an excited ‘hello!’ and that’s when Chanyeol realized, inwardly smiling to himself.

He liked you. Maybe even loved you.

But he was stupid. So maybe he couldn’t.

“I told you we’d find it!” You squealed, skipping to Chanyeol before handing him his phone with the familiar phone case. He took it from your hand, welcoming the sparks that followed when your hand brushed his.

“I have no idea what I’d do without you.” He remarked.

“I know right,” you joked, a knowing smile present on your face. Chanyeol noticed; you smile a lot.

Maybe he’d begun noticing all the tiny things in the few hours passed that he realized his feelings for you. His true feelings. His true feelings that he couldn’t fucking confess because he messed up, big. (Even his conscience reminded him and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for his conscience to fuck off.)

“Y/N,” he started, not knowing if he should say it now, but your attention fluttered back to the tour guide who was waving the both of you over. Chanyeol deflated as you turned your back on him before he made himself a silent promise. He wasn’t sure if you hated him yet, but he wanted you to know how he felt. He wanted to know if you still wanted him as a soulmate, even after everything he’s done to you. No time like the present, right?

The breeze fluttered through Paris, sending shivers up your spine as you leaned against the cold metal railing, gazing over the streets lit up underneath you. The people looked as small as ants from the top of the Eiffel tower.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You enquired, not looking at Chanyeol who sported a similar stance to your own.

You didn’t notice how Chanyeol turned to you, taking how the Parisian lights reflected in your eyes. “It is,” he replied (not totally taking a line out of a fairy tale and referencing to you, not the city below him).

You looked at him now, feeling his eyes boring into your side profile.

“Y/N, do you hate me?”

Your eyes widened at his statement. You know you’ve said that you thought he hates you, but you? Hating him? If anyone hated him you’d wonder if they were in their right minds. How can one actually hate him? First of all, his looks, you’re surprised that no agency has scouted him to be a model or actor. His voice, that stupid deep timbre that sent butterflies through your body whenever he started humming along to the radio, silently singing all the words. His personality was practically close to angelic. If you thought about it, to everyone else he was nice, so nice sometimes he stood up against Kim Jongdae—you realized it that one time you were crossing the street and he went to help out an elderly woman who was struggling with her groceries. He was just a lovable, extremely nice, idiotic giant, with big eyes and adorable pointy ears. How could you not like him?

“Th—that’s absurd,” you splutter, heat rushing to your cheeks, at how he’s staring at you, and you’re afraid that he could’ve heard your earlier thoughts, even though that’s impossible.

“So you don’t?” He continued. You nodded before he smiled a small smile to himself. “Good,” he confessed. And then, “that means you like me, right?”

The question was so out of the blue, and at the same time not, that you ended up choking on your own spit. He helped you recover, his warm hand sending goosebumps through your jacket as he rubbed your back. You narrowed your eyes at him seeing how he was so close to laughing at your hacking.

“How can you just say that so carelessly?” You declared, huffing, not looking at him, as he so was doing to you.

“You do, don’t you?” He grinned, taking your silence and avoidance of his question as an answer. “Because I think I like you.”

When you turn and meet his eyes, a series of events that you saw as the future flashed through your eyes. Chanyeol getting down on one knee, a box in his hand. The two of you sharing a kiss sealing your love for each other. A child with pointy ears and wide, doe eyes that you knew so well running around a house with chocolate smeared over his face.

And you realize that that is the future you have with him.

“I—” you falter. Mouth opening and closing. “You saw that too, didn’t you.”

His smile is beaming as he answers. “I did.” And he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance that was previously between the two of you.

And then he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, before pressing his lips to yours in the most gentle way you thought possible. Your lips move against his in a fluidity that you've never noticed before. You fit perfectly against him—as if you were made for each other. His lips are velvet as they move against your own, his hands hot as they pull you closer, placed on your hips.

A smile breaks through your lips as you kiss him, arms coming around his shoulders, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his nape and only when the two of you part, you see the brightest of smiles displayed on his face like a piece of art that you wouldn’t mind staring at for the rest of your life.

He leans down to swoop you off your feet again when you pull back, confusion laced over your features. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t want a soulmate, right? If you like me—your soulmate—how is that supposed to work—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss that has your head spinning. He chuckles. “I don’t not want a soulmate anymore, stupid.” Another kiss. “As long as its you.” And another. You kiss for a few more minutes, thankful that no one else was on the top of the Eiffel tower that you had forced Chanyeol to climb up with you. They weren’t going to risk the hellish flight of stairs to get to the amazing view.

After a while, he pulls away again. You’re glad as you take a breath. This man takes your breath away, literally. “You didn’t answer my question,” he breathes against your lips.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “What question?”

“Do you like me?” He questions, forehead resting against yours.

“I like you, Chanyeol,” you whisper.

He cradles your face and you see the spark of emotion glazing his eyes before he crashes his lips on yours once more.

It’s love.

As you enter the familiar Seoul Airport hand in hand with Chanyeol, you spot Baekhyun, your best friend, waiting for you, sporting a shit-eating grin.

He welcomes you with a hug before leaning down to whisper something only you could hear, “Where’s my thank you?”

1K notes · View notes

apprenticenerd · 4 years ago

Note

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

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Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

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Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP)

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

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A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

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Going Back has already been talked about here!

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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill.

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet.

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words.

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

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Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

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Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead.

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

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Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

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untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

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untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.”

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

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The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

#bulletnick #wow this got long #you're right i did want to talk about all of them though

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shillanseva · 5 years ago

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If you are still taking prompts - Beca's family is poor after father left and mama Mitchell stayed with Beca and her siblings, she is going to some fancy school bc of scholarship, she is trying to help her mother out and collect money for some school trip by playing on the guitar in the park aaaand this is where her future lover(s?) from class finds her (you can choose the ship) (sorry this is so long)

This is completely unedited and I decided to make this a multichapter fic. So this is a very introductory chapter and i’ll come back and edit it soon. It might be a tiny bit different than the prompt but I’m hoping to do something along these lines. I haven’t decided between mitchsen or triple treble yet.

Music had an amazing way of fixing everything for Beca Mitchell. Well maybe not everything. She wasn’t naïve. But it at least it helped her pretend.

And she needed that sometimes—a lot of times if the callouses on her fingers were anything to go by. Plucking at the steel strings of her father’s old Stella guitar made all her worries melt away, and she could feel her voice speaking through the gentle thrum of the strings. It wouldn’t make her dad come back. It wouldn’t get her mother a better job or pay for her sister’s medication, but it was her release, and her world didn’t feel quite so dark with the weight of her guitar in her hands.

She never expected her playing to lead to anything else. Sure, she would stop off at Central Park every couple of days and play for whatever coins people would toss her way, but she never expected to be recruited, especially not by the recruiters from Park Edge Preparatory for the Fine Arts.

Park Edge was one of the largest magnet schools in the city. They had thousands of applicants every year and if you weren’t a part of their program by the time you were eleven, there was almost no way to get into the school which meant it mostly accepted of trust fund babies from the Upper East Side—definitely never a poor kid from the Bronx.

She had been playing near the 81st street station next to the Museum of Natural History on a Saturday afternoon in June when she was approached by very stern, blonde woman in a navy-blue pants suit. She was tall. At least a full foot taller than fifteen-year-old Beca who had already reached her peak height of 5’2. Beca had thought she was about to get cursed out by the woman when she first approached. She was all angles—strong, bony nose, a mouth set in a grim line that didn’t look like it even knew how to smile, and cheek bones that would have given Angelina Jolie a run for her money. The woman didn’t say anything at first, just whipped a card out of her jacket and pushed it into Beca’s face. Beca had been forced to take a step back from the proximity, but the woman didn’t back down until Beca’s small hand shakily gripped the card and took it.

It read Angela Parry, Recruitment Office, Park Edge Preparatory for the Fine Arts, and a few phone numbers listed at the bottom. Angela nodded and stretched her hand out which Beca took after a moment.

“Angela Parry,” she said with a strong Brooklyn accent and continued to introduce herself before asking Beca’s name.

“Um, Beca Mitchell,” she replied. Shifting her weight slightly and tugging her guitar strap around to hang the instrument from her back.

“You have a voice, Mitchell,” she said bluntly. Beca furrowed her eyebrows. “And your guitar playing is decent too, do you have any other talents?”

“Well, I play flute, kind of, and piano. And I write?” Beca responded. Angela only nodded. This woman was intense. Her compliments didn’t really sound like compliments. It sounded more like she was giving Beca permission to exist because she didn’t completely suck.

“How are your grades?”

“Mostly B’s, a few A’s,” Beca replied quickly. The woman’s eyes were piercing as she thought for a second.

After a succinct nod, she continued, “Have a parent send me a copy of your transcripts and we’ll discuss setting you up at Park Edge.”

Beca was wide-eyed as Angela shook Beca’s hand once again and walked off, the clack of her heels causing Beca to blink after her. It took a moment to realize what had just happened before she tossed her guitar in its case and sprinted after the woman. She finally caught up to her about half a block later, and grabbed her arm. The daggers she received from the woman were enough to make her drop the Angela’s arm like it had burned her, but then Angela raised an eyebrow at her.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Beca asked. She didn’t dare to hope that she understood the woman, but she needed to hear it herself.

“I want you at Park Edge,” Angela said as if it explained away every question Beca could have.

“But I can’t afford that school,” Beca responded. “And that’s like an hour on the train.”

“We’ll give you a scholarship,” she said as if it was the most obvious solution in the world.

“You can just do that?” Beca asked.

“Of course not,” Angela said. “You’ll have to audition and prove you can handle the schoolwork, but as long as you can prove not to be a drain on the school, I don’t foresee any problems.”

“That’s it?” Beca asked suddenly feeling dumbfounded. Her arms hung limply at her side, guitar case thumping against her thigh.

“That’s it.” Angela said, then pivoted and walked away. Beca almost chased after her again. No way was it that simple right? Who just recruits random teenagers off the streets, gives them multi-thousand-dollar scholarships, and all they need is a transcript?

Beca was right. It didn’t turn out to actually be that simple. There were a lot of logistics to figure out. Most importantly, school wasn’t in session at the moment meaning there was no administration available to approve a scholarship for Beca, nor was there anyone to witness an audition to make sure she’d be accepted in the first place.

After Beca had told her mother about the strange conversation with Angela Parry, her mother had spent almost three hours on the phone with the woman going over details. It was a private school and had plenty of money so there really wasn’t anything to worry about financially as long as Beca could nail the audition. Her mother spent the entire phone call getting reassurances about money and then figuring out what exactly Beca needed to do for the audition and what was expected of her should she be accepted to the school.

It took three weeks before an audition could even be booked because the principal of the school was required to be present for all upperclassmen auditions. Beca prepared herself the best she could. She wasn’t classically trained as a musician, and all the arts programs at her school had been cut so she didn’t exactly have a teacher, but she did her best to pull together an audition. They were intense. They wanted scales, two contrasting solo pieces no longer than a minute and a half each, sight singing and playing, and specific vocal and instrumental etudes. Apparently, all music majors were required to have vocal and instrumental talent. The vocal aspect was a non-issue, but Beca didn’t feel completely competent on any instrument. She eventually decided on use piano for her audition. It didn’t feel quite so personal, and she wouldn’t be judged on the condition of her guitar.

But despite Beca’s pantsuit angel making her dreams come true, Beca still wasn’t convinced she even wanted to go to this new school. She would be going into her sophomore year of high school without anyone, everyone would have already found their groups, and most of these kids would have known each other since pre-school. Not only that but Beca hated rich kids. They were always spoiled and arrogant like the world owed them for existing. Beca had no time for those kinds of people. All she wanted to do was be at home to take care of her little sister, Triss. She was eleven-years-old. She didn’t exactly need a babysitter anymore, but Beca’s mom worked late so they didn’t see her as often as they’d like.

It took a lot of convincing. Triss called her an idiot no less than fifteen times for not being excited about the audition.

“Why am I the idiot Triss?” Beca asked, looking to her mini doppelganger. Triss was reading on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her, and glasses perched near the end of her nose. Beca smiled a little as she watched Triss’s eyes scan a few lines of her book before she spoke.

“Because.” Triss didn’t even look up.

“That’s not an answer,” Beca chided. She plopped down next to the girl, and pulled the book from her hands despite an indignant “hey!” “Why am I an idiot?”

“You think those scholarships just get handed out?” Triss asked. “You’re going to get to go to one of those cool music schools like you see on tv and you don’t wanna go? Why? Cause I need a baby sitter after school. That’s dumb Beca.”

“Well someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Beca laughed and ruffled Triss’s hair.

“And someone has to keep you from being dumb,” Triss said. She climbed over Beca to grab at her book but Beca held it just inches out of reach. Triss’s light blue eyes narrowed and Beca let out an embarrassing squeak as Triss started to poke at Beca’s side. They wrestled on the couch for several minutes before Beca felt too winded to fight off her sister’s onslaught of tickles and she wheezed a breathy “uncle” before handing the book over to Triss.

“Don’t look too smug,” Beca said, emphasizing her words with a poke to the ribs. “I know where you sleep dweeb.”

“Yeah, six feet away from you. You’d be, like, the first person they arrested if I went missing,” Triss responded flipping her book back open, settling against the arm of the couch and flinging her legs over Beca’s lap.

She still wasn’t convinced, but she went to the audition anyway. She was nervous as hell—never being one for the center of attention, but she nailed the audition and they offered her the spot and scholarship later that night. She took a few days to answer them, but eventually came to realize, she was never going to get an opportunity like this again. She wanted out of the Bronx. She wanted more out of life than a crappy food service job, because there was no way she could afford college.

School at Park Edge was going to be intense. Two days after she accepted the scholarship, a student handbook and a box of uniforms came in the mail. Beca thought the uniform looked ridiculous, but at least it included pants so she wasn’t forced to wear the plaid, pleated skirt. The handbook was two inches thick though. It included everything from grading to attendance to dress code to extracurriculars. Apparently, on top of a mandatory 3.0 GPA, all students were required to take part in at least one after school activity, of which, they had seventy-six; sports, debate, musical groups, theatre, writing clubs, science clubs, math teams, Beca was a little dizzy from the prospects. They even had a gaming club.

Despite the school having “fine arts” in the title. It turned out to be dedicated to the entire class of subjects. They could declare a major and take specific classes pertaining to that major. Each major fell under one of four broad subjects: math, science, humanities, or fine arts.

For Beca, it was a no brainer that her major would be in fine arts, but she couldn’t decide between performance or, the increasingly intriguing, composition. She had never written her own music before, but she would have been lying if she said it wasn’t something she thought about—a lot.

Both programs were very similar. They would have to take generals in math, science, language, and history, but then they would get to choose electives that pertained more toward their major as well as take lessons from a private instructor in either vocal or instrumental music. The composition majors would get additional lessons in composition.

The longer Beca looked at the classes list, the more overwhelmed she became. She began to wonder how many students actually went to this school if they could offer nearly as many classes as a small college. Then she took a look at the campus map and realize she wasn’t actually that far off. The school was set up exactly like a college.

The closer the first day of school got, the more nervous Beca felt. She really didn’t know what to expect. She was used to a school with cheap linoleum and metal detectors, torn and worn textbooks, and lunches that were barely edible. If the amount of her scholarship was any indication, the lunches at Park Edge were probably five courses, and that was intimidating as hell. Her mom was convinced that a new school meant all new shoes and a new backpack. Things Beca knew they couldn’t actually afford, but her mother couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

A week later as she stood in front of a giant stone, gargoyled building, Beca was thankful her mother had insisted. Students walked around her as she stared up at intimidating figure it posed ahead of her. She felt her heart rate accelerating as she realized what exactly she got herself into. Beca shut her eyes for several moments and took a deep breath before her characteristic, apathetic smirk slid into place, and she walked into the office.

#triple treble #mitchsen #pitch perfect

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