#but those are conclusions I came to about 12 hours after I finished the piece and went 'fuck it. good enough'

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

"That's probably the most unsettling part of things; not the tadpole, not the memory loss, not the outbursts of nigh-insatiable bloodlust... I'm still favored by something, someone, and I have no idea who. The blessings feel strange in my hands; familiar to hold but the balance is all wrong, like swinging a real sword after using training weapons all your life. Or maybe the other way around, like being handed a blunted knife after doing something stupid with the real thing. No fucking idea who I swore my oath to. But I know that oath like my own heartbeat; blood for blood, justice for the weak, and vengeance where justice turned a blind eye. When I feel the divine burning through my hands, it never feels the same twice. A different hand on my shoulder every time, but it's always Death. Death as rebirth, death as rest, death as justice, death as dispassionate inevitability... And death as hunger.

Doing @catbatart's RPG Inktober challenge and knocking out a twofer with Days 1&2 - Dwarf and Paladin. I'm gonna be on and off on this one, this is the first thing I've drawn since mid august last year, so I figure that'll be safer for my wrist and/or sanity. But I'm planning to try and knock out 10-15 out of all 31, which is still pretty ambitious for me.

Folks who've been following me since the olden days of Fallout 4 might recognize Maya Acerbi under the beard and edgelord coat of paint she's gotten as my Dark Urge playthrough character for Baldur's Gate 3. Everyone else has their cool, mysterious, catlike Durge characters, and then there's me with a crusty old dwarf woman who by the end of every day looks like she got dragged backwards through a bush and then rolled in mud and/or blood that might even be hers.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.13 SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st 1:29 PM

Warren County, Illinois

Reverend Taylor snapped off his goggles and threw them down on his work table. He then put down his welding torch beside the goggles and inspected what he had done. Nodding approvingly, he picked the remote control up from the table. An old fashioned box shaped television sat on top of a behomith blue toolbox across the workshop. The Good Reverend, hit the VOLUME UP button and the room was filled with the voice of James Christian, the high profile reporter from Vision World News:

“You are looking live now outside of Haddonfield County General Hospital as we await Governor Kathleen Joyce of Illinois to come to the stage for an official briefing on the crisis situation going on in her state. As soon as she takes the podium we will cut in so we can listen together to what she has to say...”

Reverend Taylor held up his handi-work. Forging the symbol had not been difficult. He had decided that the pair of stainless steel chopsticks that his father had given him as a house-warming gift all those years ago to be the best instrument for the job. Stainless steel chopsticks had been quite the “far out” and novel thing to have in 1973, but he had maybe used them once in all those years. He was a meat and potatoes kind of man, rarely branching out from American cuisine, and when he did, he used a knife and fork like any normal red, white, and blue male. In Rev's mind, these pieces of retro utensil novelty had finally found a reason for existence in his house.

We all have our purpose, he had thought.

His welding torch was strickly that: a welding torch—-the small compact kind that he had bought at Hagan's Hardware Store fifteen years ago. What it was not, was a cutting torch, so heating one of the chopsticks to the point of severing the piece in two had been tedious, but it had been done.

Rev took one half of the now severed piece and flattened one end so it nearly matched the other, as neatly as he could. Then he took the other piece, and heated the center just enough to bend it into a right angle, forming two sides of a triangle. This piece, he then welded to the other, completing the triangle, but leaving about an inch of stick at the top and an inch of stick at the bottom. Like a straight vertical line merged with an arrow pointing to the right. Like this:

He then took the other chopstick and welded one end of this to the center of the long and straight piece to create a handle. This he held now as he padded across to the corner of his workshop and to the potbelly stove which stood there. The stove had belonged to his great grandmother when she had lived in a one-room shamble shack off Harris Road... what was then called Crow Coal Bluff.

Ina Shirlene Taylor sold the house, and her land on the “bluff” to Morgan Strode in 1906, who removed the escarpment from the landscape, scooped all the coal out underneath of it, paved Harris Road, turning it into a “street”, and by 1928, selling all of the land for retail development. The sight of the old Taylor shack was now the sight of a Crazy Chan's Chinese restaurant. The stove was the only relic from that old place, and now it most of the time gathered dust in Revered Taylor's basement workshop.

Rev opened the little door on the stove and stuck his masterpiece into the hot coals, leaving the handle sticking out of the hatch. He then turned toward the television. The Governor was taking the podium. Her expression, which generally always gave the impression of a lack of concern for the welfare of other people was enhanced by the severely short spikes adorning her head.

Reverend Taylor scoffed when he saw her, “But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering, sayeth God in Paul's testimony to the people of Corinth, chapter eleven, verse fifteen”, he thought to himself, pulling his little office chair from his work table toward the center of the room, and grabbing a seat in front of the television.

“Good afternoon.” The Governor began, “Beginning at midnight on Friday morning and ending at roughly eight o'clock this morning, an unfortunate and terrible series of events combined together to create a tragic state of emergency for our friends and loved ones in North-Central Illinois.”

The Reverend smiled to himself. The Lord hath made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for the day of evil, sayeth Solomon's proverb, he thought.

Governor Joyce continued, “At 12 am on Friday October 31st, an extremely disturbed and dangerous patient by the name of Michael Myers escaped Smith's Grove Psychiatric Hospital during a routine patient transfer. We strongly believe at this time that he may be responsible for several deaths and injuries to persons both in Smiths Grove and Haddonfield. At this time, out of respect for the victims and for the integrity of our investigation we cannot give you the names of any of the victims or even an accurate count of the casualties.”

The Reverend stood up and walked to his work table, grabbing the gray oven mitt he had brought down from upstairs. The prophet Isaiah sayeth, 'I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.'

Rev put on the mitt and walked across the room toward the potbelly stove, listening to the Governor's speech: “In addition, approximatley twenty-four hours after Myers' escape, the brothers' Lloyd and Lee Chumway, two armed and dangerous and wanted individuals out of Biloxi Mississippi entered Warren County and were also responsible for several deaths in the area. Again we cannot turn over any names or any numbers at this time.”

Swinging open the door, Rev pulled what he had fashioned from the stove. The design on the end of the handle burned red hot. He looked at it with a smile and then he looked across the room. His basement was a long rectangular room with the stairs on one end, and the only window on the other. His work bench ran along one of the longer concrete-block walls. On the shortest wall, opposite the wall with the steps leading up into the rest of the house, was where the pot belly stove was, along with the furnace to the house and the large tank of the water heater. On the other long wall, opposite hit massive work table, stood his gun cabinet, his large blue tool chest that held up the television, and a long wooden table.

This table was mostly kept clear, and most often than not was for drying things that Reverend Taylor had freshly painted. The other table was littered with tools, pieces of wood, rolls of tape, markers, papers, and the like. On the wall before it was a peg board, with numerous pegs, on which were mounted various other tools and work utensils. The wall behind the opposite table was clear, like the table most often was, only now, the table was not clear.

The Shape lay upon the table.

Reverend Taylor had fastened a thick metal chain around the hulking body of the man, wrapping it several times around his chest and thighs, threading it through the bottom of the thick oak table, and locking it with a large padlock. The Shape lay on his back, with his blackened face to the ceiling, his feet slack to either side, and his arms by his side. He had not moved or made a sound since Rev had knocked him with the stock of his shotgun. The Shape's left arm lay palm down on the table, the blackened sleeve of whatever remained of his garment was down to his wrist. Reverend Taylor had turned The Shape's right arm however so that the palm was facing up. He had peeled back the sleeve—peel being a good word for it considering that large chunks of the man's burnt flesh had come with the sleeve, giving off a pungent sickly odor in the process. The underside of The Shape's forearm sat bare in the harsh flat glow of the basement's florescent lights.

The Reverend came toward The Shape now, holding his glowing brand before him.

“The mercy of the Lord is liken to a rose, but His vengance is liken to the thorn.” He spoke aloud, and then pressed the red-hot symbol down into the flesh of the forearm.

The Shape's head snapped back and forth, the feet began to move as well. There was a hiss as the steel cooked off a layer of skin, followed by a whiff of the odor of burning flesh. The Shape snapped up his right arm in a flash, knocking Reverend Taylor back. He stumbled against his office chair and crashed into the opposite table. A roll of masking tape and a red Solo cup filled with screws crashed to the floor, along with the brand, which hit the smooth concrete with a large TING!

Reverend Taylor watched, not wanting to move, not wanting to breathe even as The Shape bucked and thrashed in his chains for a few seconds, and then abruptly fell silent and still. The Rev gathered up the misplaced items off the floor and then took a seat in the chair with a long exhale.

It is finished, he thought with a smile. He turned toward the television. The Governor had been replaced at the podium by a face he knew well. Fred Colbourne, Deputy Fire Chief of Warren County. A member of the press in the crowd in front of the podium had raised her hand, Fred pointed to her.

“You say at this time you believe the fire was accidental, do we know how this fire started, how you came to that conclusion?” The woman asked.

Fred responded, “The fire originated from a supply closet near the front of the building. The closet had various flammable tanks inside and we believe that something caused ignition here and led to the explosion. We have not found any inciderary devices such as a bomb or a fuse or what-have-you that would lead us to suspect foul play, that being said, the cause of ignition itself still remains a mystery.”

Reverend Taylor smiled. The Lord works in mysterious ways, he thought.

NEXT>>

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 18 -Chemistry

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what will they do?, 2.5k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

“Two, three, four!” Alex counted off and the band sprung into action inside the studio. The one good thing about the drums was that it made him hyper aware of every limb on his body. There was no room for distractions or intrusive thoughts when he was keeping time. It was almost like the euphoria of being dizzy, only without the dizziness. He could be okay in this state for a little while - just long enough to reset his mind and declutter itself.

As they finished their take, they heard a familiar voice from the sound booth.

“Sounds incredible boys!”

Caleb. There went the whole ‘reset and declutter’ thing he had going.

Each of the guys looked around at each other, knowing they would have to do their best to pretend they didn’t know anything. This was the first time they were seeing him since Alex had given the news to the rest of the band. None of them had actually discussed what they would do the next time Caleb happened to stop in. Setting down their instruments and slowly filing into the sound booth, they all greeted Caleb, trying to appear happy to see him.

“Let’s hear that playback, shall we?” he said as they all sat together. He pressed a few knobs on his soundboard and they all listened closely to their own song. It was just gonna be another session with notes on where they could dub vocals here and there or duplicate tracks to fill things out - it had to be normal, Alex prayed.

“And let’s stop here for a minute,” Caleb was saying after getting into a couple minutes of the track. “Reggie. What happened to the bassline?” Reggie sat up, blinking at being called out. “That’s not what was on your demo; why did you change it?”

Reggie’s face had already fallen as he made flustered attempts to respond.

“I-I...I just liked that line better...I think it fits the style and the direction of the song,” he stammered, shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. His hands came together in his usual fidget - the one he did when he got yelled at. Alex saw Bobby’s hand curl into a fist.

“Alright, alright, trust me,” Caleb placated. “I understand, probably more than any of you, why improvising a part feels so good. I wouldn’t host a jazz club if I didn’t get that. But here the difference is that no one knows your songs yet, boys.”

“We’ve had faithful fans for years,” Luke interrupted.

Caleb cut him off with a mere look. Shutting his mouth, Luke scratched the back of his head nervously. After taking a breath, Caleb simply let out a sigh.

“Boys.” His tone was really drawing on the charisma, Alex noticed. “My job in helping you reach the stardom that you all one hundred percent deserve is to help you create a footprint on the walk of fame. A footprint means as beginners we can’t mess with the core elements that make your brand. These songs need to stay consistent until we have thousands of fans singing back to you in the audience the very lines you wrote in your humble garage. They need to know the first few seconds of that drumbeat and recall who you are on the radio. They are going to learn those basslines and those chords and add them to their own repertoire while they aspire to be legends like you! Don’t you see how important that is? I know. Playing around is fun; experimenting with new ideas and sounds is the whole reason we’re here. But from now on, I want you boys to stay in one lane, and I will match your speed.”

Eyeing each other warily, they all awkwardly murmured and nodded to agree with him. None of his words had been all that comforting. Alex was stuck thinking about how Caleb had made an appeal to every single one of them and somehow been right on the nose. It was like he could read their minds and it felt rather invasive.

“We’ll remember that,” Alex told him. He knew the other three were battling with their fight or flight responses and it would be suspicious.

“Oh, good,” Caleb replied. “I can see we’re having an off day, but maybe Alex can get the rest of you on board. Let’s run that song again.”

Exchanging glances, the guys stood up and headed back into the recording booth.

“Man, chemistry sucks,” Bobby complained from his seat in the armchair in his garage. Books were spread out around him, as well as about a dozen crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. “Reggie would get this.”

Alex looked up from the history homework he’d been focused on. He was gaining such an ear for whenever Reggie or Bobby mentioned one another and it made him laugh inwardly. For now, though, he had to hide the smirk.

“Well, I would call him, but he’s taking care of his sister tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to bother him anyways.”

This was one of the rare occasions where it was just Alex and Bobby together. Usually at least Luke would be around, but he was out on some date with Julie and there was no telling when he was expected back. Bobby had been helping Alex with history for a little bit but about half an hour ago remembered his own homework in a panic. Now they were both having trouble focusing. Their time in the studio that morning was clearly still on both of their minds.

“Hey, did Reggie tell you we were playing for his cousin’s wedding?” Alex asked in a non sequitur fashion.

“What?” Bobby said, finally sitting up and tearing his eyes off the diagram he was making. “No, he didn’t. Since when was that happening?”

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” Alex told him casually.

“Oh.” Bobby looked down at the floor. “Any reason you haven’t mentioned it until now?”

Alex shifted in his seat on the couch at the suspicion in Bobby’s voice, but tried to play it off with a shrug.

“I just forgot. We’ve had a lot going on since he mentioned it to me.”

It did the trick. Still, Bobby sat in thought for a while, playing with his tongue inside his mouth absent-mindedly. Alex physically bit his own tongue to keep himself from asking what was on Bobby’s mind and pretended to turn his attention back to his history work. There was a long, static pause.

“Reggie’s been really weird lately,” Bobby said.

“Is that so?” Alex didn’t look up this time.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always been goofy and everything, but I mean, he’s been unusual even for him. You know what I mean?”

“I guess I haven’t been paying as close of attention.” Alex flipped a page in his text book. “But I’ll take your word. Are you worried about him?”

Furrowing his brow, Bobby frowned in thought.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, I always worry about him, you know, cuz of everything he deals with at home. But I don’t know...this is different.”

“Is it because of what Caleb said today?”

“I didn’t like that either, but no, that’s not it.”

He looked so serious that Alex couldn’t find it funny anymore. Actually, Bobby seemed so distressed by it that it was making Alex distressed.

“Hey,” he said with concern. “Why do you look so bummed about it?”

He received a glance as though a great weight sat upon Bobby’s shoulders. It was so familiar it shot him in the chest. His friend looked so lost and uncertain, so afraid to speak his mind. And Alex thought Reggie had been conflicted. It was a little worrying.

“I think you actually know what's going on, huh?” Bobby said in resignation.

Nope. Now it was just frustrating. Alex sat up and looked at Bobby directly.

“Okay, I know expressing yourself isn’t your strong suit, Bobby, but please say it out loud. You can do it. Especially with me.”

His friend’s eyebrows knit together even further, trying to convince himself to get it off his chest. A minute passed, and finally he shut his chemistry book, set it aside, and faced Alex.

“I have feelings for Reggie.”

Thank god.

“Good job! You’re officially the last to know!”

Bobby’s face fell into a confused expression.

“What?”

Alex merely shrugged. They were so helpless, but luckily he was better at trying to solve others’ problems than his own.

“I had to let you come to your own conclusion. It was exhausting; you took forever.”

Bobby folded his hands and fidgeted with his thumbs.

“How long have you noticed?”

“Technically? Since before playing at the Pearl. But that’s when it really started to be obvious.”

Smirking, Bobby just bowed and shook his head.

“You know,” he began. “When I was first getting to know you, I didn’t trust you. Luke and I were already so close, and he introduced me to you and Reggie and you two already were such good friends. For a while I couldn’t figure out when you were being sarcastic or serious and I didn’t want to admit I was too sensitive. Reggie helped me figure out the difference and I just sort of dropped anything I was upset about.”

Alex listened carefully, nodding at his words.

“And now you’ve started getting all personal because you know I’m the most trustworthy one here, right?” he half-teased.

Nodding, Bobby smiled a little.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me to get my crap together and tell Reggie?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “But go at your own pace. The last thing I want is you two making things even weirder than they already are by trying to discuss things when you’re not prepared. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great, but don’t forget the rest of the band in the process.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby pondered. “You have a point. Speaking of weird business, I’m still not cool about us pretending to go along with making the album while knowing what we do about Caleb.”

“Me neither, but I think Luke was right. We’re just being careful.”

“Since when is Sunset Curve careful, though? We would just set up and play wherever we could until we got chased off the property, and then we’d just find a new location the next night.”

“The difference is we were nobody fifteen year olds who didn’t have contracts signed. You said it yourself, we could risk losing the rights to our own music if we break things off.”

“We read the contracts, though, right?” Bobby insisted. “I made sure we did. I don’t remember anything that seemed too controlling in them.”

“Would we have known what to look for?” Alex responded.

Sighing heavily and flopping back into his chair, Bobby stared up into the ceiling. It felt like no good answer could be given. Alex was frustrated too, but he remembered what Tía Victoria had told him as well. He believed Willie, of course, especially since Victoria hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him. She hadn’t been able to get a sniff of Caleb’s true nature, and she was a professional investigator. If Caleb could fool her that easily, he’d tied their hands while they willingly held them out.

“Bobby,” Alex started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should stop laying ourselves on the ground and letting him walk all over us. None of this ‘establish the brand’ B.S.”

Straightening his posture, Alex sat up and folded his hands. That was exactly what he wanted to do, too. Even if he didn’t know anything else about Caleb, the way he’d gone after Reggie had left a sour enough taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else to Bobby, Luke stepped into the garage.

“Guys, I was thinking - ” he started.

“You wanna go after Caleb too?” Bobby said.

“Whoa, how did you know?” he sat back in surprise.

“Bobby and I were just talking about it,” Alex told him. Luke raised his eyebrows as he flopped onto the couch beside Alex.

“Were you guys mad when he singled out Reggie, too?”

“Yes!”

“Nobody shames Reggie like that!”

“Bobby, you should go cheer him up,” Luke suggested. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Oh my god!” Bobby cried, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Immediately he stood up and gathered all his books. “Just for that, I’m turning in you guys. Have a nice night, Alex. Luke, I hope it’s cold.” He stormed out of the garage and into his house while Luke and Alex simply laughed together.

“I, uh… I already gave him a speech about it,” Alex told Luke, smirking.

“Thank you!” Luke cried. “I know they tease me about being dense but at least I go for what I want! And so do you!”

Smiling at the acknowledgement of him and Willie, Alex slowly started packing up his homework. He could finish it tomorrow night.

“By the way, how was hanging out with Julie?” he asked.

Placing his arms behind his head, Luke got that dreamy far-off look on his face. The ‘Julie on the mind’ look. He smiled like he’d seen an angel and the angel had smiled back in kind.

“Oh, she’s awesome. She’s way better at roller skating than me. I wish there were two of me just so one of us could hold her hand while skating with her and the other could sit down and watch.”

Alex made a face at the odd visual, but he understood what Luke was talking about. He wondered what he and Willie looked like from an outside perspective. Did they look as happy as he felt? Did Willie bring out something in him that he’d never seen in the mirror? Or even something the rest of the guys didn’t know yet? That was something he really wanted to discuss with Willie now.

“I can’t wait until her mom gets out of the hospital,” Luke was saying. “I want to learn everything she can teach me. She told me she took two years just working on the production of an album for her band. Imagine what we could do with our songs if we had her in the studio instead of Caleb.”

“Wow,” Alex commented. “At this point, I really wish we were working with the Molinas. At least they seem to get us.”

Luke looked at him and Alex knew he’d heard all the underlying meaning in that sentence. All the guys had been accepted by Julie’s family in a way none of their own seemed capable of. Alex almost wished he hadn’t said it out loud because it only tempted him to forget about heading home.

“Maybe one day, we will, Alex,” Luke said, giving him an encouraging smile.

He chuckled as he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door.

“Yeah. That’d be sweet.”

[cherriesfineline]

MEET HALFWAY OUR NEEDS - one shot

a/n: hi! this is my first time ever posting one of my writings online (I'm about to shit myself but oh well). I literally wrote this so fast I'm impressed, but anyways I (kind of) proof read this -not really- just quickly read through it after I finished it. English isn't my first language (I'm so self conscious I'm probably gonna say that every time I post something) but besides that, I really hope you enjoy this <3 feedback is truly appreciated, it helps me improve!

-Joey

Pairing: Harry x Y/N

Warnings: detailed sexual content

Word count: 9.2k (of mostly smut??? sorry)

the one where Harry wants to get married but Y/N doesn't.

As you grow older, you start realizing life isn't as easy as it seemed when you were a kid. Not everyone gets lucky enough to have a job they're passionate about. Not everyone can satisfy all their necessities. In fact, you realize it's most people instead of "not everyone".  Friendships and relationships won't last you a lifetime (those promises of being there for each other forever now seem like genuine naiveness) if you don't put enough effort in them. When you are young you believe that being able to play for hours straight without getting bored is what true friendship is about. And maybe it is, during those years.  Adult relationships require a lot of time, and effort. And sometimes, sacrifice. Conversations have a different weight, and being able to trust someone with your most uneasy thoughts and experiences is hard. To find and to keep.  When it comes to love, you start realizing that the thrill and intensity of teen romance isn't what true love is about. It's not about getting into fights, hardcore jealousy and toxicity behaviors. It's about being able to just be there, with that someone. Being able to coexist in each other's worlds, share what you're passionate about without any fear or remorse, being able to communicate. To ask for help when needed. Now, that doesn't mean things can't get complicated.  For the past two months, Y/N and Harry's relationship has been balancing on a very, extremely, thin line.  After six years of being together, and three of those living together, being the happiest they've ever been, everything started to look different for Harry. He was ready to take a step Y/N wasn't.  Harry always knew he wanted to get married, have kids, move to a pretty house outside New York (it's been his favorite city ever since he visited when he was 12, then moving all the way across the globe from Manchester to attend Columbia University). And when he met Y/N, he knew she was the one he wanted all that with. But Y/N... she wasn't so sure that was the life she wanted. Having kids was a no at least until she was in her 30's. And even then, she knew she'd have to re consider if that's what she really wanted.  She loves kids, she has a couple nieces a nephew's (coming from a big family has it's perks) and she's a preschool teacher. She's good with kids, but she wasn't so sure she'd be a great mother. Not for a specific reason, but she really feels like that's the case. Taking care of someone else's kids versus your own is extremely different. Now... it gets even more complicated when it comes to marriage. She doesn't believe that a piece of paper kept in a legal's office will make any changes in their relationship. It will all stay the same, married or not, so she just doesn't think it's important, nor worth the money.  Harry, on the other hand, thinks marrying her will change everything in his life. For the better. He loves her more than he'll ever be able to put into words. And because he can't put it into words, he feels like it's the actions, small and big, that help him communicate his love a bit better.  He still remembers the moment he mentioned marriage to her (not for the first time, but definitely the first time he actually thought 'ok i really want to marry her right now') like it happened yesterday. He remembers exactly what it felt like to physically feel his heart shatter inside his chest, and the way he silently cried himself to sleep that night with Y/N in his arms.  "Would you ever, uh... consider g-getting married? like, I don't know, if we ever have, like, an actual conversation about it, would you consider it?" He asked her in the middle of their Lord of the Rings marathon.  Harry could feel her intense staring at the side of his face. She was quiet for so long, it killed him. He truly wanted the cushions of their pink couch to just suck him inside the furniture piece.  He wouldn't dare to turn his face. He couldn't look at her, no. Not to face the rejection of his lifetime.  "Uh, I don't think so." She said, and Harry only nodded, thinking the conversation was over

once he felt her move her head to face the television again. "You know how I feel about you and how I feel about marriage. I honestly think it's useless. You don't need a signed paper to know how much I love you, Harry." Her tone was soft, but the words that left her mouth felt like a million knives inside his chest.  That conversation sent him spiraling over a thousand thoughts, overthinking their entire relationship and how he now felt like they were getting nowhere with it.  He respected her decision, though. That's why he didn't bring it up again.  Y/N sensed his mood change that same night. She kept her mouth shut, because she truly didn't know what to say. She didn't understand where he was coming from, or why it was so important to him. At first, she didn't think his mood was affected because of her not wanting to get married, maybe he had something else going on and was struggling to talk about it, but after many sessions with her therapist going over and over their conversations and trying to decipher why everything was so weird between them, she came to the conclusion it might have to do with them not getting married.  She just didn't want it. And she didn't know how to make him understand. But she couldn't lose him either. He was her everything. It took her months to be able to sit next to him like she did the night he was watching The Little Mermaid in the living room of their small New York apartment.  It's been months since they last shared a movie night, or a date. They've been eating dinner while having awkward small talk about their jobs and friends, going straight to bed after cleaning everything up, each to their side. They haven't touched each other except the occasional greeting peck ever since that night. And it was killing both of them, but neither knew how to approach the other.  As she sat down to his right, she saw him tense immediately. It broke her, to see him so on guard around her. Y/N couldn't look away from him, with her body facing him and her head rested on the back of the couch, she wanted to grab his hand so badly, but she didn't know if he'd reject her.  The doorbell rang, and he looked at her for the first time that night. His eyebrows had the cutest frown and she wanted to kiss his forehead to make him relax, but of course, she didn't.  She sent him a shy smile and stood up, going straight to the door and picking up the cash she left prepared on the little table next to it. She could feel his stare burning holes in her back, which sent chills down her spine.  "Thank you so much." Harry heard Y/N say, immediately hearing the door shut. From where he was sitting he didn't have a clear view on who was on the other side of the door. Y/N made her way to their kitchen (to do God knows what, Harry thought) only to appear seconds after with two tubes of ice cream (from his favorite place) and two big spoons.  She sat back down next to him with her legs under her, a little closer than moments ago but still out of Harry's reach.  She handed him one of the tubes, and Harry immediately noticed it was chocolate chip mint, his favorite, he might add. He looked up at her, who gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and a side smile, and he couldn't help but smile widely at her, his deep dimples on full display.  God, I missed those dimples so bad. Y/N thought.  But what she didn't know is that Harry was thinking about how much he missed her. Entirely. He hated himself for overthinking every small detail, and for thinking so lowly of their future. But he couldn't help it. "Thanks." He shyly took the ice cream and started eating right away. Not five minutes later, he grabbed her by her thigh and dragged her next to him, only to have her close to his body. And because he missed her. And her body heat. And her addictive smell of clean soap and vanilla. And a lot of other things which would take a lifetime to enumerate.  She looked at him from her new spot, and due to the proximity, she had to shift her head slightly up to look at his face. She slid her right arm around his left,

carefully looking at him to see any kind of reaction that might show discomfort, and when she noticed his smirk slowly and barely making an appearance, she relaxed next to him, fitting half of her body under his arm, with his elbow resting on her stomach and her head on his upper arm. Half way through the movie, with their ice cream tubes forgotten on their coffee table, Y/N looked back up to him, and even though she's been doing it every two minutes, Harry knew she wanted to say something this time. He doesn't look at her, though, thinking it might shy her away, but right when he was trying to concentrate back on the film, he heard her say something.  It was barely audible, almost like she didn't want him to hear it. Did he imagine it? Maybe he's so deprived from her and her touch and her words that he's finally going insane.  Harry looked at her this time, and looking straight at her grey eyes so closely for the first time in two months felt like a thousand fireworks exploding violently on his stomach.  "Did you say something?" He looked at her confused, and the look on her eyes is so hard to decipher he thinks she definitely said something she's scared to repeat.  "I miss you." Y/N repeated herself, barely louder. But then he knew for sure he didn't imagine it.  His Y/N missed him. For so long Harry thought he was losing her, that after distancing himself from her she finally realized she not only didn't want marriage, but a relationship with him at all. But she missed him. And he missed her.  "You miss me?" He asked, almost like he didn't believe her, his tone was low and his voice sounded deeper that ever.  Y/N nodded, but she felt pathetic. She felt like he didn't miss her like she missed him, maybe he didn't miss her at all. For two months she's been feeling like he wanted out, that this relationship felt like an obligation to him.  Harry felt her slowly sliding away from his arms, and that's when he realized he's been so stuck in his head he still hadn't replied.  "Don't," he quickly grabbed her by her thigh with his hand closest to her body "please, don't go." She stayed still in her place, looking at him with soft but sad eyes. "I miss you so much, Y/N." Harry turned on his spot so he's facing her, and softly cupped her jaw with his free hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You have no idea." He whispered, slowly getting her face close to his while closing his eyes. He kissed her forehead so lovingly she literally burst into tears. Y/N's soft sobs alarmed Harry, lifting her head up by his hold on her jaw. "Please, don't cry baby. It breaks me when you cry."  Y/N shifted on her place so she was with her body facing the back of the couch, her knees pressed against it, but she tilted her body to the side so she could hug Harry. She slowly draped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest.  A sigh of relief left Harry's lips, resting his chin on top of her head while he hugged her back. One of his arms was resting low on her back, while the other one rested on her shoulder, his giant hand cupping her head to softly caress her hair.  They stayed in that position for a long time. Y/N could feel Harry's heartbeat, and how it slowly picked up speed when she pressed her lips to his chest. And even though he was wearing a shirt, Harry could feel the heat of her lips through it. He pressed his own lips on top of her head, leaving them there for a while, almost like a very long, still kiss, until he felt her head shift underneath his lips. He pulled away just barely to allow her to look up at him, and when she noticed him quickly looking down to her lips, she stretched her neck up to press their lips together.  It was a short, very sweet kiss. With fear as an undertaste and nervousness written all over her. She was just scared he was going to leave.  When she pulled away from him, she didn't have time to open her eyes as she felt Harry press their lips together again. This second kiss was almost the same as the first one, insecure.  It's funny, if you think about it. How similar their

feelings were and how scared they were of messing everything up with a single wrong move.  Once Harry pulled away from the kiss he initiated, they locked eyes, yet again. But this time, it was written all over their faces how badly they missed each other, and how much they dreaded to feel the effects each had on one another after so long.  The third kiss they shared, it's initiated from both sides, almost as they were able to read each other's minds. Their lips moved in sync, and as Harry softly captured Y/N's bottom lip between his own to slightly suck on it, she put more pressure into it. The kiss slowly started to gain force, passion and need. But she was scared to take the next step. She wanted him to take the full lead, as opposed to what they were used to, just because she didn't want him to feel like he owed her anything.  And then, he did take that step. The hand he had holding her jaw moved under her hair to grab her by the neck, while slowly tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for access to her mouth. And once she allowed their tongues to meet, his hold on her lower back got stronger, draping his arm completely around her waist to pull her closer. That action made Y/N's body lift up from how strong he was holding her, and she took this as a sign to move. She straddled him on the couch, sinking (almost on slow motion) to sit on top of his thighs. Harry groaned in frustration. She's too far away, he thought.  "Closer." He said in a pleading tone, and Y/N complied immediately. She slid her body up his thighs, and he forced her chest to collide with his. The hand that was holding her neck slowly traced her entire spine, to join his other one on her lower back.  Her tongue felt so warm and soft, so inviting. He had always loved the way she kissed him, with so much passion but with a gentleness that was so her. She managed to fully relax in his hold once her hands found their way to his hair, right behind his ears, and he couldn't help but whimper at the feeling of their groins pressing together.  This sparked a burning fire inside both of them. A fire that burned so good they'd rather die caught on it, than to never feel it again.  Harry slowly slid his hands up and down her sides, all the way from her outer thighs to her side boobs. And when he did it for the second time, on his way up he slid his hands under her shirt instead of continuing their path over it. When his hands stopped at the higher part of their path, he caressed her side boobs with his thumbs, doing the same afterwards right below them, and when she finally grinded down on him, letting a deep groan leave her lips, he cupped her breasts with his hands.  But when she pulled away, he dropped his hands automatically.He started eating his brains out thinking he really messed up, he was taking things down a road she didn't want to take yet, which was okay, it's not like he only wanted her body back, but he was scared he made her uncomfortable.  Only then, his dick grew incredibly hard when she grabbed the hem of her oversized t-shirt to pull it up and off her body. Her perfectly perky boobs bounced slightly when Y/N dropped her shirt on the floor, resting her arms on her sides.  He looked up from the lovely sight of her boobs thinking about how badly he wanted to devour them, only to find her with an uncertain look on her face. And he hated it. He hated the thought of her doubting herself so much.  Harry ran his hands up and down her soft stomach, and then slid them up, softly but barely touching her boobs. His destination was somewhere else (for now), and he grabbed Y/N by her neck to pull her close.  Their lips met again in the softest kiss they shared that night so far, and Y/N melted in Harry's arms like the forgotten ice cream behind her. He kissed the corner of her lips as he pulled her hair slightly so he could start kissing her jawline, down to her neck, leaving pepper kisses all over her skin.  When he reached her collarbone he started sucking and biting (she loved when he bit her) knowing he couldn't do it to her neck

due to her job. She let a moan leave her lips, and when Harry slid one of his hands to grab her by her hip, she grinded down on him again, with more confidence this time.  Harry lowered his face a bit more so he could finally reach one of his favorite features of his Y/N, her boobs. He took her left breast in his mouth, sucking on Y/N's nipple, making her whimper and jerk forward, tightening her hold on his brown locks to pull him even closer. He slid the hand that was holding Y/N's hair down so he could pay attention to both nipples at the same time, while using his hand on her hip to keep a steady peace to her grinding. Once she caught up with the slow but rough peace he wanted, he let go of Y/N's hip to grab the nipple he had in his mouth with in his hand, and he pinched both of them at the same time, rolling the hard buds on his fingers, then moving his mouth to the other one.  He spent a lot of time paying attention to Y/N's nipples, nibbling, sucking, groping, knowing damn well they were extremely sensitive (she could orgasm just by nipple stimulation if done correctly, but she really wanted him right now). Y/N pulled from his hair enough to let him know she wanted something else, and when he let her nipple fall from his mouth, he looked straight into her eyes.  Harry's cheeks were tinted a pretty shade of pink, and Y/N couldn't help but admire the beautiful man under her.  He looked at her with such pure eyes, but lustful at the same time. She didn't understand how he could look so innocent but so fucking hot at the same time, it was unfair how angelic he was.  She grabbed a handful of his shirt, to let him know she wanted it off. Once Harry complied, throwing his shirt somewhere near Y/N's, he immediately reached for her cream silk shorts, tugging the elastic band down as a silent plea for her to get out of them for him.  She stood up from the couch, knowing Harry loved when she undressed herself for him, and still in between his legs holding eye contact, she slowly slid her shorts down her thighs along with her underwear.  Harry couldn't keep eye contact for long, though. His eyes were glued to her glistening core that was slowly making an appearance, and he was getting frustrated at how slow she was being.  He sat straighter on the couch so he could reach for her, and slid his hands down the front of her thighs, and on their way up he slowly slid them to their insides, getting close to where she wanted him. He slid one of his hands down again, but this time he grabbed her right leg from behind her knee, to pull it up. He made her rest her feet outside his thigh, which was now in between her legs. In this new position he got a clear view of her pretty pussy, all on display for him.  "So wet, baby." He whispered, and she couldn't help but return her hold on his hair to pull him closer to her. "All for me?" Harry asked her, looking up to stare at her right in the eyes. When she nodded, he hummed in response. "Let me take care of you, it's been so long. You probably need it so much, don't you?" His voice was so fucking deep and raspy she nodded desperately in response. Y/N couldn't handle much teasing, and she let Harry know by tightening her grip yet again, and forcing his face to be so close she could feel his breathing on her.  "Please, Harry." She pleaded. Harry loved teasing her, but he knew it's been a long time, he didn't want to frustrate her much.  He finally licked very slowly up her folds, all the way from her opening to her clit, humming when he reached her sensitive bundle of nerves. Y/N let out a long sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttering shut. She felt like she could literally come just by that, and when he closed his lips around her clit, she grind her hips against his lips. He started switching between sucking and pressing his tongue on her clit until he started to move it, creating undefined figures with the tip of his tongue.  They missed each other so much, so so much. And they both knew sex wouldn't magically fix everything. They knew they needed to work things out. But

sometimes conversation needs a little push, something to remind them why they need to fix things. The magnetic pull they felt towards each other was unbearably strong. They needed each other, in every imaginable way, but at that moment, they needed each other's bodies and emotion, no words needed. Just feel each other close.  Harry gave her clit a sweet kiss, and looked up at her while his fingers traveled up and down her folds, until they found their home in her opening. He searched her eyes for approval, and when she whispered a soft 'please' he slowly sank his ring and middle finger, knuckle deep. She whimpered loud at the sudden pressure, and he groaned at the tightness of her hole.  He rested his forehead on her navel for a second to let her adjust, and when he felt her grind on his fingers, he held her gaze while lining his mouth with her clit yet again. Harry started to work his fingers in and out of her, sucking on her clit. But what turned him on the most was her slow grinding on his face and fingers, like she was fucking his fingers nstead of his fingers fucking her.  Harry used his free arm to slide it under her leg that was up on the couch, and grabbed her ass with a tight grip to pull her even closer.  The pleasure was beginning to feel overwhelming, the pressure deep down on her belly begging for release was making her desperate. Y/N's moans and breathy sighs were becoming louder and consistent and the way he could feel her legs slightly shaking gave away how close she was to her release.  Harry wanted her to make a mess on his face, so badly. He lowered his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue, not before he moved his fingers one last time to massage her spongy spot at the front of her insides. He fucked her with his tongue as he used his soaked fingers to stimulate her clit, circling in the fast and rough peace he knew she enjoyed so much.  Her insides felt like a rocket about to launch, between his moans sending vibrations through her entire body and his fingers stimulating her clit the way she exactly needed, she became a moaning mess. Y/N couldn't comprehend how she was still standing up, even though Harry's arm under her thigh was holding most of her weight up, her knees were about to give up soon.  "H-Harry, I'm so close," Y/N spoke as clearly as possible, knowing her panting was messing with her words, "please don't stop." He admired the way her jaw tightened and relaxed, her mouth opening shortly after, making a perfect 'o' with her eyes pressed shut.  With one specific movement of Harry's tongue, she finally let go. With her eyes rolling back she let a couple of continuous 'fuck's quickly leave her mouth. Her entire body jolted forwards, bending a bit over him while his mouth was still attached to her core, helping her ride her orgasm, making it last for as long as possible.  Y/N pulled Harry away from her with her grip on his hair once it became too much, and looked down at him. Without a second thought she bent down to lock her lips on his, with so much force it threw him back into his original seated position on the couch.  "Take your pants off, now." She demanded, but adding an almost inaudible 'please', mostly for her. He happily obliged, taking his boxers down with them, imitating her previous actions. His cock sprung free, and he hissed at the feeling of freedom. Harry was so focused on her he didn't realize how painfully hard he was. He could feel his own heartbeat thundering in his chest with so much force it was almost alarming. He needed her so, so badly. Once his pants and boxers were thrown and forgotten on the floor, she straddled him.  Giving him a quick but soft kiss on the lips, she began making her way down his neck, reaching back up again to (what she knew) was his most sensitive spot behind his ear. Y/N sucked a small bruise, and he whimpered. God, Y/N loved those small noises he made. She kissed her favorite beauty mark on the right side where his neck meets his shoulder, and that small action alone made his heart feel like someone was squeezing and

twisting it. He missed those small loving details from her.  Y/N kept making her way down his chest, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all over him, not forgetting to suck and nibble at his nipples. She loved taking care of him. All of him. And the way he enjoyed her playing with his nipples was something he was always scared of admitting, but he knew he didn't have to ask her to do it, because she just knew.  She sunk down to her knees, still sucking and licking the skin all over his stomach while caressing his thighs (Oh, those thighs). Y/N finally grabbed his dick and slowly stroked him all the way from his base to the tip, collecting some of the precum leaking from his deep pink, swollen head. He groaned loudly, lifting his hips to fuck her fist once. She took that as a sign to lower her head even more, his cock now in front of her face.  "Want my mouth, baby?" She tapped her plump lips with his tip, and when he looked down at her, she moved her closed lips around him, almost like she was using his precum as lipgloss, her hand still slowly moving up and down his length. She got him hypnotized. "Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him.  "Y-yes, please." He heavily sighed. His begging made her drip down her thighs, he knew how much she loved it, and she knew he loved begging too, maybe even more than her. She always took such good care of him.  She swirled her tongue around his tip once, then proceeded to lick up his shaft a couple of times like his dick was an ice lolly. Once she finally wrapped her lips around his tip, he sighed in relief, and relaxed his shoulders. Harry's hands grabbed her neck to pull her head down, and she surprised him when she suddenly deep throated him before even working her way there.  "Fucking hell, Y/N." He moaned when he felt her humming around him. Harry grabbed her hair making a shift ponytail, to help her get her hair out of the way, and using his grip on it to lift her head, her mouth left his dick, and he smirked at the small pout on her lips. "You are so perfect." She ignored him and tried to lean forward again, which made him smile at how desperate she was. He let her get what she wanted, allowing her lips to wrap around his tip again. She licked up his slit and swirled her tongue around him, and hollowed her cheeks to suck on his tip. She took more of him in her mouth, using her right hand to work on his base and her left to gently cup his balls and play with them.  Harry knew he wouldn't last long. It's been a while since they've done anything remotely sexual, and his hand... his hand wasn't her. So even though he could get himself off, nothing in the world would compare to how it felt when it was his Y/N pleasing him.  His breathing became irregular as she bobbed her head up and down his length in a steady rhythm, and when she tugged on his balls he knew he had to pull her away right that second, or he would come. And he really wanted to, but not like this.  "Baby, please," he tried to pull her head away with a tug on her ponytail, but she didn't oblige. Instead, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, still bobbing her head up and down on him, and that sight alone could make him come in a heartbeat. But he kept it together. "I wanna come inside you, p-please."  And that made Y/N pull away, her mouth making a 'pop' sound when she let his dick fall from her lips. She then straddled him, her hands finding their home right behind his ears, grabbing him by his hair, while his made their way around her body, hugging her close. His dick fit perfectly between her lips, and Y/N grinded on him to feel his wet cock slide through her folds, creating the most delicious friction. Harry kissed her passionately, trying to pour everything he felt in the kiss. And Y/N did feel it, because she was trying to do the same. They repeated the action a couple of times until she reached in between them to grab a hold of him, positioning him on her opening.  And when she finally sank down on him, they locked gazes. They sat still, connected. They were so close. They felt so close.  Harry

nudged her nose with his, softly brushing their lips together. He then noticed a single tear run down her cheek, and reached for her face quickly. Right before it got in her mouth he caught it with his thumb, and she leaned in his touch.  They didn't say a word. Just sat still.  With Harry caressing her cheek, and Y/N looking straight into his eyes. Y/N leaned forward to capture his top lip between hers, leaving the sweetest kiss, repeating the action with his bottom lip. After, she went for the right corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jawline, his pulse point, behind his ear. And repeated the exact same trail on the left side of his face, finishing with his top and bottom lips, one last time before starting to slowly grind and circle her hips on him.  Harry just couldn't stop staring at her. The amount of love and adoration he held in his heart for that woman was beyond words, and actions. And he then understood. He understood that he could live a life without marriage if it meant living it with her. He could handle it. He would get over it.  He involuntarily dropped his head back and shut his eyes with so much force, while hissing through gritted teeth when she finally lifted her weight on her knees, sliding up on his dick until he was almost entirely out, only to sink back down roughly, going so deep it made both of them moan loudly at how tight she was.  She slid one of her hands around his neck to grab him by his chin, forcing him to look at her. Y/N kissed him again, and this time their kiss was messy and desperate, between crashing teeth and loud moans due to her fucking him with all she got.  She let go of Harry's mouth to sit straighter, using his shoulders as support to move faster. This position gave Harry a view he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He could see his cock, so drenched of her arousal, and her pussy taking him so well. The wet sounds leaving their connected centers were magical, so erotic, accompanied with the small whimpers and moans coming out of her perfect lips.  Harry thought she looked like a fucking goddess, with her round and perky tits bouncing up and down every time her tight pussy took him entirely.  "You're being so good, baby. Letting me fuck you just how I like it." She whispered to him, staring at his heart shaped, swollen lips. The lips she was so addicted to.  "You take such good care of me, angel. Always." He replied, looking into her eyes which were still glued to his lips. She licked her own, and moved forward to crash them against his on another messy kiss.  They both were so close. Harry couldn't understand how he managed to hold his release for so long, but he was proud of himself.  Y/N separated their lips for a moment to make him suck her point and middle finger, which he complied immediately, knowing exactly what she was doing. He then watched her lower her hand between their bodies again, but this time to reach for her clit, where she started to gently rub circles, stimulating herself.  Harry started thrusting up with force, to meet her halfway, tightening his grip around her middle. Y/N bit down his shoulder to stifle a loud moan, which only made Harry thrust faster.  "Please come for me, Y/N, I wanna feel you come all- all around my cock." He managed to plead between breathy whimpers. And it only took a few more thrusts from him to make her insides explode in the most blissful sensation, like electricity running all the way from her belly to her toes. She stiffens in his hold, her inside walls tightening and clenching so hard it almost sends him out of her, making his balls tighten right before he lets go. She could feel him emptying inside her, his spurts of cum filling her up, leaving both of them exhausted, satisfied and utterly fucked.  None of them moved for a while. Y/N's breathing calmed him, almost like a lullaby, and the way Harry was gently stroking her back made goosebumps erupt all over her body.  Without any warning, Harry stood up, making Y/N wrap her legs around him, she hissed through the feeling of his dick moving while still

inside her, and she bit down his shoulder again. She didn't question what he was doing, she didn't care.  Harry sat her down on a cold surface after turning the lights on, and when she opened her eyes she realized he sat her in their bathroom counter. He put some space between them so he could finally look at her again. The fact that they barely spoke during sex today (when they were usually pretty vocal) made everything so... different. Not in a bad way, though. It made them both enjoy sex as the pure performance of just loving someone. No need of crazy positions, weird kinks or edging each other the way they're used to. Just love. The need to feel connected. The need of physically demonstrating each other's love. How they are each other's entire world.  "I'm gonna clean us up, okay?" Harry told her softly, and she only nodded in response. She leaned in to give him a soft kiss, which honestly caught Harry off guard now that the sexual act was over. But made him happy nonetheless. She was scared of him shutting her out again. But he was scared of her getting tired of him.  He knew she was a free soul. She wanted so many things, and settling down to start a family like he wanted to wasn't in her near plans, maybe in her plans at all. And he knew that. He understood it, and he respected it. He just thought about how badly he truly wanted that life with her. He was just scared she would let him go.  They both looked down and hissed the moment he slid out of her. Harry had the perfect view of their mixed cum dripping down her core, making a mess on the marble counter under her. And Y/N saw his dick twitch at the sight, but decided against commenting on it. Even though it made her slightly smirk.  Harry took his time cleaning both of them, and Y/N didn't look away from him. Not even for a second. He lifted her up again and literally sat her down on the toilet so she could pee. They've done this a thousand times, it was normal for them, she wasn't modest about him seeing or listening to her pee.  After they brushed their teeth next to each other, stealing curious looks (especially Harry at Y/N's boobs through the mirror), they went to bed together.  And for the first time in two months, she rested her head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her.  The only thing she didn't notice was that once Harry knew she was asleep, he couldn't keep it in. He cried himself to sleep that night. But it wasn't any different from what he was used to from the past couple of months.  The only difference was that this time, he knew he'd give up his dreams if it meant he could keep her around.  &  The next morning, Y/N felt something, or someone, shift behind her. She knew it was Harry. His arm was thrown over her waist, resting dangerously close to her boobs (she secretly loved the way Harry seemed obsessed with her boobs) and she could feel his breathing hit the back of her neck.  She hugged his arm closer to her body to let him know she was awake, which made Harry shift even closer, cup her left breast and press his pretty pink and warm lips to her neck.  "Good morning." She said with a breathy laugh, her morning voice was a sound that drove Harry mad. She sounded way too sexy for her (or his) own good.  "Hi." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, "how'd you sleep?" He left another lingering kiss, this time below her ear.  "Amazing. Haven't slept this good in a while." She replied honestly, wiggling her body back towards him so their torsos were pressing together.  "Mhm, me too." He whispered, tightening his hold around her, his morning wood pressing on her lower back. She could already feel the pool of her arousal in between her legs, and when she arched her back so now his dick was pressing against the curve of her ass, he groaned in her ear.  He slowly started to grind himself against her ass, moving down on the bed a bit so he could better his position. And when she grinded back against him, he reached in between them to position himself on her opening. He pushed the tip in, just enough to feel her tight hole around

him.  "Can I?" He asked her to make sure they both wanted this. When she sighed deeply in pleasure and murmured a 'yes', he slowly thrusted into her, both moaning a bunch of profanities.  They both were huge lovers of morning sex. It increased their moods during their days, helped them relax and carry their days with a carefree feeling. So, he fucked her. Hard. Not even close to how loving they were last night. He woke up with an unbeatable energy, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He fucked her in the position they woke up in. He turned her to her stomach and fucked her while (almost) laying completely on top of her (she loved feeling his weight on her) and he fucked her on all fours, only to end up in their initial position, with her back against his chest on their sides, so he could play with her clit to help her come.  That morning they spent it in bed, Y/N made them breakfast, Harry read a book. They both knew they needed to talk, but they wanted to enjoy some time where everything felt normal between them again. So they avoided the topic.  But the conversation they owed each other kept being pushed. And for another two months, everything slowly started to feel normal again.  Usually, avoiding conversation will lead up to more hurting. But with Y/N and Harry, it ended up becoming a realization point.  Harry got in terms with the fact they wanted different things. He decided she was worth anything and everything in the world, because she was his world. But what he didn't know was that Y/N spent those entire two months imagining what a life like the one Harry wanted with her would be like.  And after one day, on Harry's 28th birthday, during a small walk they were taking on Central Park, she realized she would do anything in the world to make him the happiest man he could ever be. She kissed him so passionately that day, interrupting their walk. He looked at her with a confused look when she pulled away with the brightest smile on her face. But that smile made him confirm he was willing to give up his dream of getting married.  That's why in mid February, Y/N found herself shopping in a very expensive jewelry store. She knew Harry liked that place since his 'H' and 'S' rings were from there. They had an amazing section of handmade rings that she spent a long time going through. She wanted to pick the best one she could find.  She found the prettiest, most fine silver ring with a red stone adorning it's top. She knew he would love it. It definitely didn't look like the typical engagement ring, but nothing about Harry was typical. It would match the rest of his rings lovingly, and Y/N knew he would simply love it. Not only because it was a pretty ring, but because it would mean something big for them.  Three days later, Y/N came back from work to find Harry sitting on their living room couch watching the forecast. Why? Who the fuck knows. He never watched cable TV.  Y/N just stood there for a while, just staring at him.  "Hi, love." He greeted her. "Are you alright?" He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. The crease between them made an appearance, even though it was there most of the time.  "Hey." She finally moved, dropped her keys on the little bowl sitting on top of the small table in the hallway. "All good, gonna put some comfy clothes on really quick." She lied. She just couldn't wait any longer. Watching him sit there all frustratingly beautiful doing absolutely nothing was fucking annoying, it was so unfair how beautiful he was. She had an entire evening prepared but she just couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to do it now.  She dropped her purse on their bed and quickly got rid of her shoes, but didn't change into anything comfier. She just grabbed the small black velvet box from her t-shirt drawer and went back to the living room, sliding it in the back pocket of her jeans so he wouldn't be able to see it.  Harry looked at her with a confused look, wondering why she was still in her work clothes walking directly to him when she said she wanted to change.  She sunk to her knees in

between his legs, which only made him even more confused. "You sure you're alright?" Harry gently asked her. She just hummed in response and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table (moving as little as possible, she didn't want him seeing the small bump on her jeans because she knew he would ask about it), and turned back around.  She rested her ass on her ankles, and her arms on top of his thighs. "So..." she started.  "So..." Harry repeated, confused.  "I love you, so very much." Y/N started and Harry's breath got caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this at all. "So much, you don't even understand." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. They haven't told they loved each other in so long, scared of the other not saying it back. God only knows why, because it was clear as water they still loved each other with their whole beings. "And I know we both always wanted different things."  This is it. Harry thought. She's breaking up with me.  "And I know there are some things I believe that you will never understand, and there are some things I- I didn't understand, for a long time." Harry furrowed her eyebrows further at this last part. Now he truly didn't understand what she was trying to say. "For so long I thought I wanted something, you know? Like I was sure I had it all figured out for myself, the life I wanted. But I actually- I was searching for a life that wasn't mine. And I didn't realize that what I already have is everything I could possibly want." Y/N's cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down her face so fast they were drenching his hands that were now pressed against her cheeks, softly caressing them. "I know now, that love is about finding common ground. Meeting each other's needs. And sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to do that. And I came to a conclusion." She swallowed the big lump on her throat, and that finally allowed her to let a long breath leave her chest. "I love you more than anything in this world. I hope you know that, and I know I struggle sometimes with letting you know how much I adore and admire all of you. But I promise to do my best today, and for the rest of my life, to make sure you know how loved you are. How much I'm willing to do for you. And this took me a while to understand, but I do now. I understand why you felt like you needed to take that 'next step' with us. And I understand why it'd make you as happy as you always said. So, it'd make me really happy to ask you to," Y/N reached her pocket and heard him gasp when she pulled the box in front of him, revealing a beautiful ring for him, "marry me." Harry was speechless. Truly, ultimately speechless. Not only was the love of his life asking him to marry her, she was saying she truly wanted this. Harry's gaze kept going from the ring back to her eyes. And after a while of no one saying anything, Y/N cleared her throat. "H," she whispered, "Will you marry me?" She asked, the soft tone on her voice and the question he dreamed so many times asking her knocked him back to life.  "Yes, yes, Y/N, yes- oh Y/N-" he choked a sob, and the biggest smiles appeared on both their faces. Y/N threw herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly. He helped her straddle him so he could wrap his own arms around her.  They held each other for a few seconds, both crying the happiest tears they ever let drop, and when she pulled away to put the ring on him, he surprised her by crashing their lips together.  They shared their most passionate kiss in the entirety of their relationship, both still crying, smiling, spilling so much love and adoration with each stroke of their tongues. When he pulled away, she finally placed the box in between them again.  "Can I put it on you? I know you like to wear your 'H' ring on your ring finger, so we could put it somewhere else, you know? And make it our own thing-" Harry interrupted her giving her a soft peck, "or we could-" another kiss, "I don't know." She finally gave in, pressing her lips harder against him.  After another long kiss, he finally told her

where he wanted his ring, and with a last kiss he patted her ass to let her know he needed her to stand up.  "Wait here." He pointed at her, and she sat on the couch with a soft 'okay'.  He returned moments later with his hand behind his back and a lopsided smirk. He sat in the same position she was for her proposal, in between her legs.  Before he said anything, he moved his hands in between them, opening a red velvet box. She gasped like Harry did moments ago when she saw the beautiful ring with a small red stone (yes! Like his own ring) placed on top of a very thin and delicate silver band that was sitting inside the small box.  "It was my grandmother's." Harry said in a quiet tone. "She gave it to me before she passed away a couple months after we met, remember?" She slowly nodded, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. There was so much love written all over his face. "I told her you were it for me. I knew I wanted this with you ever since we met at our university library. She gave it to me in hopes I could... give it to you some time." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I kept it hidden from you all this time. Didn't want you to find it and make everything weird between us. But I'd really love if you could, um... wear it if you want?" He shyly asked.  "It'd be an honor to carry her ring with me, Harry." His face lit up so fast at her response.  "Yeah?" He asked, perplexed.  "Yeah." Y/N replied with a big smile.  "Will you marry me, Y/N?" He asked her this time, and she couldn't help but giggle.  "I asked you first." She pecked his lips. "But yes, Harry. I'll marry you." And she kissed him again, and he couldn't help but smile so widely she ended up with her lips against his teeth.  After putting his grandmother's ring on her, they shared another night of pure, loving sex. None remember how many times they made each other come, but they did have another important conversation between rounds.  "Something else I wanted to tell you..." She said, in between kisses (they loved giving each other soft small pecks all over each other while they were talking). She was straddling him in their bed, his back against the headboard. He didn't want to pull out of her just yet, keeping his cum inside her for as long as possible.  "I know you're ready to have kids, like, right now." She said, and he raised his eyebrows playfully at her. "I can tell by your breeding kink, honestly." He let a loud laugh leave his chest, making her smile too. It was honestly hilarious, I mean, look at their position.  "I decided I really want to have kids with you." He gasped, "But..." he sunk down in his position, a visible pout on his lips, which she kissed away from him. "Promise me you'll wait for me, until I'm in my 30's" He locked eyes with her. She really wanted this. So much.  "Only three more years?!" He asked with so much hope.  "Three more years and we can start trying, I promise. I just thought that- that we could get married now, have some time as a married couple, you know? To enjoy ourselves." She shrugged and he couldn't help but smile widely and her, nodding frantically. "That way we are both adapting to each other, you know? Meet halfway our wants."  "God, I love you so much." He chose to say, instead of replying straight away. "I'll wait a lifetime to have kids with you if that's what you wanted, just please- decide before you reach menopau-" He couldn't even finish his sentence since she shut him up by putting her hand over his mouth.  "Don't even say it. God, I don't wanna be old." She sighed in frustration.  "I honestly can't wait to grow old with you." Harry said with such a loving tone, like an enamored teenager, hugging her closer to him. And she couldn't help but smile back at him. Because even though ageing scares her, she's ready to spend the rest of her life with him.  "I love you, my angel." Y/N told Harry, before kissing his lips, yet again. 

"I love you, my Y/N." Harry whispered to her, keeping her face close to his. 

X

Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day <3

-Joey

[candlelight27]

Chapter 6: This Mask That I've Become

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: kissing in a church lol, tresspassing and etc... don't do that, kids

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 7065

AO3: This Mask That I’ve Become

A/N:  Thanks to @galamixx again for being my beta! It's hard, I know lol so I appreciate it a lot!!!

I hope you like this chapter! It was a bit hard cause I'm going into unknown territory, but I hope you enjoy it either way. Comments, likes, whatever is really really appreciated! Thanks for sticking around with this!

My dearest Byleth,

Your letters brighten my days, otherwise dulled by duties. I must ask for your forgiveness again, since I couldn’t answer any text message yet. Seteth is trying to help me, but he’s not well versed in technology either. The world is moving way too quickly for us to catch up…

Please, keep updating me with the news of our dear students. I’m truly happy to see them thrive and prosper in the continuation of their studies. All those stories you tell me remind me of good times, already gone… Times I wish to never forget. It’s a gift of the Goddess to be able to see them again, even though I must stay in the shadows of this lonely cathedral.

I know we mustn’t be seen together, but I long to see you. Please, visit us soon. Seteth wants to have tea with you, too. He’s much more cheerful now that he’s sure Flayn is safe and sound whatever she wishes to do.

The real reason for this letter is to inform you that I arranged an archive to keep all of our memories safe. I know I refused your petition at first, but after long hours of deep thought, I came to the same conclusion as you. It’s our obligation to ensure the safety of the continent and everyone who lived here, and if we lose our memories, we wouldn’t be able to do it. And in case we die… others will take on our legacy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to take a look at them soon, so you can add any necessary information. I’ll send them as soon as they’re finished.

I’m doing as you instructed: I’m writing reports and so are the other Nabateans.

Thank you for your dedication, Byleth. I’ll always be here for you.

Yours sincerely,

Rhea.

Sylvain and you were next to each other, leaning over the table in your kitchen. Your gaze was fixed on the careful strokes of Rhea’s quill. Ingrid wasn’t home, so told her you’d invite Sylvain over to study and finish that project ‒ which you hadn’t touched in months, if you were being honest. Of course, it was just an excuse. Instead of doing homework, you were chatting and conspiring among opened books about matters not related at all with university. Who’d rather do that when you were living a real adventure?

As you went over the letter for an eleventh time, Sylvain called your name expectantly. He had a bright gleam in his eye that screamed trouble.

“Do you know what day it is next Friday?” He asked, a tilted smile on his lips.

“It’s the 21st,” You answered. You took the letter with your index finger and thumb, and slowly placed it back inside the envelope.

“Yes and no, my dear friend. It’s the founding day of the Kingdom of Faerghus”, Sylvain pointed out. You raised your eyebrows, questioning. You already knew that, just as every other student; that day marked the date when lessons were interrupted. Typically, there was a week more to hand over projects and other requirements to pass the subjects, so some students went right back home, yet others stayed behind in their dorms until they were completely finished.

“So what?” You asked.

The redhead breathed deeply as he prepared mentally for what was coming next. He felt the weight of your eyes on him. Were you judging him? No, you weren’t, he was well aware of that, but he couldn’t discard all those doubts that bombarded him at all times. He felt the guilt running through his veins and he was second guessing his next proposition.

“I’ve got a plan,” he managed to say at last. That charming façade of his that made him always get his way had faded away. You tilted your head, unable to make heads or tails of Sylvain and prompting him to explain himself. He cleared his throat and continued. “That evening, a special mass is going to be celebrated, just like every year. It’s the perfect opportunity to sneak a peek of those documents.”

“The perfect opportunity?” You exclaimed, eyes wide open. “Sylvain, it’s going to be crowded!”

“Yes! That way, nobody will notice we’re hiding in the old confessionary booth! You know they barely use it anyways. Then, we get out when everybody’s gone, we go to Rhea’s office, find the documents and run away as far as we can.”

You blinked, once, twice, thrice. Sylvain was impatient to hear your opinion. He was jolting his leg up and down out of nervousness as you bit your lips, deep in thought. He already knew you had said you were in this together, that you'd help him find the truth, yet those were just words, not acts. He needed your reassurance once again, for deep inside his chest, against his wishes, he was expecting you to reject his idea, to ridicule him and leave him behind ‒ just like Miklan, like his parents. Because wasn’t that what always happened? He trusted someone, then they’d betray him for circumstances that he never could understand.

“Are you sure that’s not trespassing?” You frowned.

“Since it’s a religious building, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he claimed. “There’s a right of devotion, or something like that.”

“You’ve thought of this carefully, haven’t you? It’s a solid plan.” You nod slowly. Solid and stupid. It could work, but it entailed a great risk.

“It is,” Sylvain said. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, waiting for your objections.

“What if somebody catches us?”

“We’ll say we forgot something”, he posed. “My phone, your purse, whatever.”

“Seteth won’t buy it”, you argued.

“But it’s me who you’re going with,” he pointed to his own face. “He’ll just think we’re there to bang. He’ll lecture us and won’t think about it further. My reputation precedes me, after all.”

“Okay, fine”, you yielded easily. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You stretched your arms, thinking about what you were getting into. However, for some indefinite reason, you weren’t worried about it. You were more worried about him.

Sylvain was relieved but, as always, uneasy with his own actions. Was he asking too much of you? Was he pushing your limits? It was hard to act all cool and mighty around you when he could barely control his own feelings and the messy train of thought that always accompanied him.

“I’ll drive us there,” Sylvain commented when he noticed he had been silent for a while. Even though you nodded and tried to smile, you were worried about Sylvain. You noticed him getting lost in his own thoughts, and it was worse that he had the horrible habit of never telling anyone what tortured him inside. Despite wanting to ease him, you couldn’t do anything but reassure him that the plan will go well. Executing it was the only thing left to do now.

--

Sylvain double parked right in front of your building. He was well dressed to go to the Cathedral, with a white button-up, dress pants and boots. His parents might be there, after all, and he didn’t want to piss them off. Sylvain tapped the wheel with his fingers. It was too early, but he couldn’t wait at home — He was restless, so he had driven to distract himself. Still, that didn’t make him calmer, so he was restless in front of your window instead.

Impatient and anxious, Sylvain grabbed his phone out of his pocket and wrote a message. There was a reason for his uneasiness: he was going to ask you out. Or he was going to reiterate his love for you and see where things would go from there.

Torn between his own actions, his happiness, and if it might make this whole timeline shenanigan more confusing for you, he couldn’t fall asleep and instead dwelled on it for hours. Something had to change. Pitying himself and being a hollow piece of shit to almost everyone only deepened the wound in his soul.  He plucked up the courage and decided he’d do things the right way from then on. And, first, he had to confess to you a couple of things ‒ a sort of declaration of intent.

Sylvain wouldn't ask Ingrid for advice, because she would think this is another one of his dating escapades. She never takes him seriously. Dimitri always understood him, but was clueless. So was Felix, who would be even more unwilling to help. Claude would give him the best piece of advice, but he refused asking the Almyran out of pride. And he was sure Dorothea would tell him to fuck off. So he had only one option. His usual first option, because she knew him like the palm of her hand and always spoke her mind: Mercedes.

Sylvain 15:10 : Mercedes, pls, help me ☹

Mercedes 15:10 : What’s wrong, Sylvain?

Mercedes answered almost immediately. Her attention eased his nerves. Sylvain looked at his watch; he had about twenty minutes left until you’d meet him and sort out his agitation.

Sylvain 15:11 : It’s about you-know-who

Sylvain 15:11 : I need your advice

Mercedes 15:11 : You-know-who finally confessed?

Sylvain 15:12 : No, but I might?

He had finally worded it. A weight lifted off his shoulders. Mercedes would know if it was madness or in fact it would work, right?

Mercedes 15:12 : What are your true intentions?

Sylvain 15:12 : I think I’m in love, for real

Mercedes 15:13 : Oh dear

Mercedes 15:13 : At first I thought you weren’t that serious

He could hear the voice of Mercedes exclaiming, as he had for years. He wasn’t surprised. How many times has he toyed with the idea of love only to discard it? And he had never ever been serious with anyone. If somebody showed the littlest interest in him, he’d dismiss that person and do terrible things to them before they’d do them to him.

Mercedes 15:13 : I told her to be careful around you because you play with women’s feelings

Sylvain 15:13 : I’m not angry, can’t blame you for speaking the truth

Sylvain 15:14 : But you’re the worst wingman ever, tbh

Sylvain 15:14 : Still love you tho <3

Mercedes 15:14 : There is something positive!

Mercedes 15:14 : You-know-who hasn’t run away yet! You two grew closer instead! Most would have run away!

Mercedes 15:15 : I think that’s a good sign

Mercedes 15:15 : She might be in love with you, even if she doesn’t know it

Sylvain 15:16 : I don’t like that might. I’d rather to be sure about it

Mercedes 15:16 : Just remember doubts are natural, but you must persist

Mercedes 15:16 : It’s now or never, confess your love!

Mercedes 15:17 : And don’t play with her feelings, please

Sylvain 15:17 : I know it’s hard to believe, Mercie, but I’m serious

Mercedes 15:18 : Sothis has answered my prayers then 😊

Sylvain 15:18 : Or Byleth. The professor paired us on that damned project.

Mercedes 15:18 : I have to go now. I’ll answer later. Write to me if you need it, ok?

Sylvain 15:19 : Ok, see you! Thanks, Mercedes

He appreciated Mercedes’ honesty. However, she had given Sylvain another headache, for the devout girl had reminded him of something else. He hadn’t gone out with a girl in months. He had uninstalled all his dating apps – which weren’t exactly for dating, obviously, but flings. Even so, years of being a bastard had to catch up with him at some point, and he guessed it’d be soon enough.

A knock on the window of the car startled him. It was you, with a radiant smile.

“You’ve come early!”, he greeted you as he opened the window. Unknowingly, Sylvain hid his mobile phone. “Get in.”

You went around the car, which looked new, but not extravagantly expensive, and opened the door.

“You’re the one who is early!”, you said, fastening your seatbelt. “Did I have you waiting for too long?”

“Not at all!” Sylvain brushed it off.

“I saw your car through the window, that’s why I came earlier”, you smiled.

Without further ado, he started the engine and thus began your two-hour journey to the biggest cathedral in Fódlan, and your old highschool.

--

The nearer you were to Garreg Mach, where you practically lived for years – excluding holidays, of course, when you’d visit your family – the more mountains and nature you’d see through the windows.

Sylvain was suspiciously quiet yet again.

“I thought Dimitri would be coming with us?” You asked to spark a conversation against the unbearable silence.

“He’s going to spend all the break with his father in Faerghus after the mass, so he’s not returning to college afterwards,” Sylvain explained nonchalantly. “Besides, he doesn’t like when others drive. Just an odd habit of his.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How come you aren’t going to Faerghus afterwards too? You’ve finished all your papers.”

“Nah”, he shrugged. “My relationship with my family… is rocky. So I’ll be staying behind until our university closes and I finish all my excuses.”

“I thought Miklan was gone for a long while.”

“Well, it’s not just Miklan...” The redhead added. “My father is not interested in me and my whole being, but rather in my grades and my capacity of managing his businesses and his land. Oh, and he’s also-” Sylvain hesitated. He realized he usually doesn’t open up to others this fast. However, thinking about the past you two share, and how you’re always genuine to him despite everything he’s making you do, he continued. “My father is also constantly trying to auction off my hand to any bigwig’s daughter who might make a big investment for the family. It’s exhausting.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m sorry you have to deal with a family like that.” You commented sympathetically. You wanted to express your compassion, so you caressed his shoulder. However, Sylvain flinched in the slightest manner, which you noticed and retreated your hand.

“Remember those girls in the library long ago?” He wondered.

“Yes.”

“I met them in one of my father’s parties. Two fickle, capricious girls that wanted a good catch to get expensive gifts and an exciting roll in the hay.” His tone was harsh, and you saw his knuckles whiten over the wheel. Suddenly, he changed his register into a lighter one. “I forgot to tell you that Edelgard is going to be there with Dimitri. She usually can’t attend, since Enbarr is too far away. Maybe she’s going to stay with Dimitri in Fhirdiad to… amend their relationship. Who knows. And Hubert will be surely there, being Edelgard’s shadow.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she is Dimitri’s step sister, after all, they ought to be on good terms,” You commented.

“Isn’t she your friend?”

“Not exactly. Well, not like Dorothea. We get along, but we haven’t met that much outside the classroom.” You answered.

“I see.” He nodded slightly.

You took advantage of your position in the co-pilot seat and observed him. His soft hair, dark red in the roots and orangey where the light caressed it, the shape of his straight nose and his outlined jaw... He was objectively handsome. The actions of those girls Sylvain talked about were despicable, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that they thought they had won the lottery: this man was rich, handsome, friendly and extremely seductive. However, they had miscalculated the situation, because they had not been the first nor the last ones to try, and they didn’t know Sylvain hated playing that game.

It saddened you, that he had to live that. But it saddened you even deeper in your heart that you didn’t know what to expect. Nothing could assure you that Sylvain would get over his ex-lovers and stalkers. And yes, you liked him – some would assure you were in love with him – but would you be able to pursue a romantic relationship? Especially in this situation?

Ingrid had voiced her opinion a lot of times: you shouldn’t try it. You knew that whatever you did, she was going to support you, but she had her reservations. Mercedes was wary as well. The only dissonant view was Dorothea’s.

Dorothea had gone to a date with Sylvain back in high school and she concluded he was a pig. You had heard so, sat in your desk right behind hers as she was telling the story to Edelgard. Despite that, Dorothea and Sylvain became allies of some sort – which made you jealous until you finally befriended the star of the Garreg Mach choir. It might have been the common nature of the gossip they both faced, or the fact that most of the high-end parties they attended were frequented by the same dull people. It didn’t matter what it was, but, although Dorothea restated constantly that Sylvain was nauseating, her attitude towards him had changed. It lit a small hope within your heart that your friend, who usually despised a lot of men of his kind, was encouraging you.

“Give him a chance!”, she exclaimed one day while you were having lunch with her and Petra. “I feel it in my gut! You’re made for each other.” Petra agreed, although she didn’t know either of you that much.

Yet, what made you different from all those girls Sylvain hated? That unexplained deep connection? Because, other than that, nobody could tell if your love was more authentic than theirs. You weren’t even sure yourself. Did you like him because he was a pretty face, or because you actually were in love? It was hard to tell.

As if Dorothea had read your mind and your hesitation, your phone vibrated.

Dorothea 15:53 : GO FOR THE KILL

Dorothea 15:53 : Make him suffer a little bit before falling into his arms tho

Dorothea 15:53 : AND tell me ALL the juicy details afterwards 😉

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain glanced over at you with a chuckle.

“What?”

“You just snorted!” He laughed.

“Oh, just Dorothea wishing us good luck,” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you weren’t as good as him. He laughed.

“Is she telling you to avoid me like I’m a pest?”

“Something like that…” You lied.

--

It didn’t matter from which angle you observed it; the Cathedral had always been impressive. The clear stone, bathed in the sunrays, seemed to be pure gold, resplendent in its holiness. The place stirred like a hive with the confluence of people, most of whom you knew. A nostalgic sensation washed over you.

“Could you wait here?” Sylvain asked, moving his head around and narrowing his eyes to figure out the identity of the people around you. “I have to go greet my parents.” He clarified.

“Do you want to go alone?”

“Yes”, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ll meet them one day,” He winked, “but not today.”

The redhead faded into the crowd, while you waited in the courtyard right before the hall. You didn’t know what to do, so you sat over one of the low walls. You saw a patch of blonde hair, but you weren’t sure if it was Dimitri, so you didn’t move. Meanwhile, you recognised many of the passers-by, as they were family of your own classmates, but you doubted they’d remember you.

A deep voice called your name from the shadows of a nearby tree. You looked at the source of the sound.

“Hubert?” You blinked several times. That was a surprise.

“Indeed. I’m here to accompany Edelgard. What are you doing here?”, he asked. “I was certain that you didn’t like going to mass, and you have to ties with the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I’ve come with Sylvain”, you answered. Hubert’s eerie, yellow eyes were fixed on you, disturbing you.

“I see,” he commented. A small grimace that resembled a smile formed on his lips.

“He’ll come in a moment”, you forced a smile. You didn’t dislike Hubert, but he had an extraordinary ability to put your nerves on edge.

“I wanted to thank you for that favour,” he commented efficiently.

“That thing?”, you made an ‘o’ with your lips. “No need to thank me, Hubert. We’re… friends?”

“I prefer the term strategic partners”, he nodded.

“Okay, that name is fine too.”

“The reason I’m here is that I must inform you that the heir of the Gautier is engaged”, he said with solemnity.

“Excuse me?” Your little world shattered into pieces, broken. What the fuck was Hubert talking about?

“A month ago, his parents engaged him with one of the daughters of Mr. Rowe. Since you’re rather close with him, I thought you should know it.”

“... I see.”, you muttered, still shocked, trying to remain composure.

“I must go now,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I apologise for being the harbinger of bad news.”

“No need to worry, I just was surprised. See you around”, you waved at him, indicating that you’d be okay. Hubbert made a bow and vanished.

That was an unexpected turn of events. Your heartbeat was loud and fast, and you did your best to quickly blink away tears so that no one would notice. Despite the doubts, the second thoughts and all the things against you, you had thought you’d be in control whether you ended up with Sylvain or not. However, just like the rest of your life, it seemed that you were trapped in a book somebody else was writing. And now, in the place where your crush had begun, any hope you harboured had disappeared, just like a flame put out with a bucket of cold water.

You opened and closed your eyes rapidly to make the tears disappear and stood up. You breathed in and out in slow movements. Your body began relaxing.

Where was Sylvain? There was almost nobody else outside. The mass would begin in almost five minutes. He must have been talking with his parents, if what Hubert said was true. How were you in such a deep mess?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Sylvain appeared from the lateral of the cathedral.

“Hey! You ready?” He sprang to you.

“Yes,” You tried to cover your face. You couldn’t let him see you in vulnerability.

“Okay, remember the plan.” He leaned into you, lowering his voice. “We sit on the back row, and 10 minutes before the end we get out. Then, we enter through the left door and hide in the confessionary booth. You go in first, then I follow you 3 minutes apart.”

You nodded and walked into the cathedral. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. It was going to be a long evening.

--

The confessional booth was dark inside. There was a separation between the two parts that composed it, so the space was reduced. You sat on the wooden bench, thankful that it didn’t crack at all.

Sylvain had been right: nobody saw you. The confessionary itself, with an entry in the back, blocked the view of the lateral door to any onlooker that could have been there. On the other hand, you could see the people sitting in the left wing of the building through the lattice in a very convenient way. It was an excellent place to hide. The pulpit was far away, yet the voice of Archbishop Rhea was heard everywhere.

In spite of your relative security, this had to be by far the worst idea you had ever agreed on. Everything seemed doomed in that moment. You were sure in that moment that you’d get caught or expelled. You wanted to run away.

But right then, the back door silently opened and Sylvain entered the scene.

Sylvain’s wide shoulders almost didn’t fit through the entrance. You tried to move around to make some space for him, but it was in vain. You were thankful for the shadows, because your cheeks were growing redder and redder by the moment as his presence became more and more noticeable.

You didn’t know how exactly, but you ended up with your legs over his lap, your shoulders touching and your faces way too close for your liking. At least right then, when Hubert’s words were still fresh in your mind.

The choir started singing a tune, which indicated that the mass was approaching its end. Such pure voices were inappropriate for that moment you were sharing with Sylvain.

“I swear this was bigger before...” Sylvain whispered in your ear. It made your hair stand on end.

“Yes, when we were confessing, being 12 and younger, and being alone. Now it’s even more tiny because someone decided to have the both of us in here.” You grunted back, careful of not being heard.

His breath caressed your face, and his warmth radiated from his clothes. He was too comfortable, and you felt like you could be cuddled like this forever, while at the same time you wanted to run away from his touch. It occurred to you that he might have been a sorcerer, and that he had put you in an unavoidable spell. How else would all these feelings be so intense? It couldn’t be just love, right?

“I have something to tell you,” Sylvain said, but he wasn’t looking at you.

Was he going to tell you that he was engaged? Your breathing was erratic once more. You couldn’t flee, much to your dismay.

“What is it?”

“I…”, he cut himself.

“You…?” You were suspenseful, but you weren’t sure for what. Disappointment? Elation? Sylvain turned his head and fixed his pupils on yours.

“Be my girlfriend.” He managed to speak. You had no words. The world was definitely laughing at your face. “I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. So why not? Isn’t it the logical thing to do?”

“It’s not that easy, Sylvain, despite how much I wish it was.” You sighed, at a loss for better words.

“Why not?” He pressed.

His heart dropped and a thousand thoughts rushed into his mind. He wanted to scream. How could he dare to think someone would genuinely love him? He got hurt, as it always happened. He shouldn’t have let his walls down, not even for you. He shouldn’t seek love, he shouldn’t have bothered. Everytime he considered himself worthy of love, the world around him would start crashing down. ‘You’re set yourself up for failure’, Sylvain kept repeating to himself. That’s what his father always told him when things didn’t turn out well. His father had been right. He was a failure. Even when his intentions were pure, he had already tainted his future. There was no redemption for him, right?

You picked up on the rising panic on Sylvain’s face, and you felt guilt inside your chest.

“I’m scared,” you said, trying to justify yourself. You believed it was the moment to be sincere. “I’m scared that you’re lying to use me. Or that you’d just get bored and throw me away.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he said, horrified by the fact that you wouldn’t accept he was telling the truth. “You’re not like the-”. He interrupted himself. “I see it now. I won’t stop repeating the same sentence, right? Now nobody will believe me.” Sylvain covered his face with his hand. “I cried the wolf way too many times…” He mutters.

“There’s something else,” you whispered.

“Just say it. It’s not gonna get worse at this point.” Sylvain chuckled somberly.

“You’re engaged.”

“It’s not something I chose. And it’s definitely not something I’m happy about.” He stated. Your words felt like a knife on Sylvain’s skin. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I’d get my parents to break the engagement first, but it’s taking longer than I’d expected.”

Out of the blue, Sylvain placed his hands around your face.

“Will you be my girlfriend? You didn’t say no. You know that I wouldn’t willingly propose to a girl when you are right here by my side. You haven’t seen me with another girl, have you?” He assured, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t want to say no,” you answered, confused. “But- Sylvain, we’re doomed. We’re not meant to be.”

“I don’t care about fate. Does that mean you’d give me a chance?” His eyes were intense, hard and, all the same, warm and comforting, with the colour of liquid caramel. Sylvain threw all his doubts away for once, just wanting to be with you. You were one of the only things keeping him happy.

“I don’t know… Sylvain, I-”

“If you tell me I’ve still got a chance, I’m not going to give up. I love you.” He announced seriously. “Don’t get me wrong, if you really want me out of your life, I will do it, but otherwise…”

“This is a trap. How am I supposed to tell you looking at you in the eye that I don’t want to see you ever again?” You complained.

“I’m not a trickster, but I’m not gonna let you go either. I’ll have to convince you to be mine, then.”

“And how are you going to convince me?”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I already did the hardest part, I made you fall for me.” he smirked.

With that, you couldn’t resist the invisible force pulling yourself to him anymore. You crashed your lips against his and sat astride his lap. It was easy; you had already done it before. Sylvain was amazed, but he was not one to lose an opportunity. He kissed you back. Unable to control himself, his hands grabbed your waist, but he didn’t let himself explore. He was unsure of what was happening, but he was glad he’d got to taste your lips a second time.

You pressed your chest against his torso, while trying to hug him closer. His lips were soft and firm, his movements decided, and he knew what he wanted. Sylvain took advantage of a pause you took for breathing and let his tongue slide in. He was voracious and greedy in his attentions, and he did not let a single speck of your mouth untouched.

You were starting to feel dizzy and wanted much more, but you stopped.

“Everybody should be gone by now,” you muttered, his mouth still pressed to yours. He was panting, and you could guess what was on his mind – you could feel his excitement rising in his lap, after all.

“What was that for?”

“I felt like it.” you lovingly took off a lock of his hair from his forehead. “I’m not going to give you my heart just like that, but I swear to the Goddess, I can’t resist you.”

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do it again, you know.” he smirked, releasing you from his grip. “After all, we have to make up for lost time.” He grabbed your wrist before letting you go completely, and lowered his tone. “But don’t get used to torturing me like this, or I’ll eventually lose my composure.”

“I’ll risk it,” you playfully answered while you distanced yourself.

You exited the booth without a single sound. The church was dark, since there was no light coming from the large windows anymore. The sun was gone. The place was creepy without a single source of brightness, and the stone was grey and cold.

Your steps followed Sylvain as he manoeuvred between the pews and towards the sets of stairs that led to the upper floor. You had not been there frequently, just once or twice to help Seteth move some books after class. Sylvain, however, knew the place like the palm of his hand due to Seteth’s insistence in correcting the mischievous redhead’s nature. Seteth never achieved his ambition, of course, but as a result, Sylvain could go to Rhea’s office with his eyes closed. And to Seteth’s one, to the cleaning supplies stall and many more rooms he had the pleasure to visit in his youth.

“Careful with the stairs, the stone is worn-out, and you can fall down”, Sylvain warned you.

There were bright coloured statues of the saints and Seiros splattered around, along with some old-looking tapestries that needed to wash. You couldn’t admire them for long, because before you could register that you were raiding the empty cathedral at 8 p.m., Sylvain had already stopped before a wooden door.

“It’s here”, he stated solemnly.

“Are you ready?”, you asked.

“More than ever”, he smiled and turned around the doorknob.

Of course, it was closed.

“Fuck”, he said.

“We should have expected that”, you rubbed your temple.

“Do you have a bobby pin?”

“Nope”, you hummed.

“Okay, time to go home I guess”, Sylvain suddenly laughed, and so did you. “It feels like we’ve gone crazy, right?”

“Oh my god, Sylvain, you thought about the confessional booth but it didn’t occur to you that the door might have been locked?”, you giggled.

“Shut up! You could have guessed it, too!”

“Four months ago I thought I’d never speak to you in my life, and look at us now”, you couldn’t help the laughs.

“What’s so fun?”, Seteth’s voice reverberated through the narrow corridor, shutting both your mouths at the same time.

He had appeared from a door right across you ‒ from his own office, you presumed. You were so nervous that you couldn’t say a word. It was surreal. Seteth didn’t look angry, he looked curious instead, something you weren’t used to. The years might have eased his nerves. But that fact didn’t make your position any easier.

“Look, Seteth, we’re not here for any funny business”, Sylvain defended himself and you. He stepped forwards out of habit.

“Because entering Lady Rhea’s office is not suspicious at all”, Seteth calmly replied.

“Okay, it seems suspicious. But it’s not what it seems,” he began scratching the back of his head. “I dragged her here and…”

You had relaxed enough to form coherent words. And you decided it was the moment to come out clean, because lies and secrets were just turning your life upside down. Furthermore, Seteth’s presence ignited an old feeling; the need to rely on a much more mature adult. You cut Sylvain’s words.

“Seteth, we’ve come here looking for some papers that belong to Lady Rhea”, you said loud and clear. “We were going to steal them.”

“What are you doing?” Sylvain asked incredulously.

“Seteth, we’ve been having the weirdest dreams”, you said. “And they won’t stop, to the point they seem real, like memories.” Seteth's disposition changed. He tensed, and his face paled. “We went to Byleth’s office and… we read a letter from the Archbishop. We know that those dreams happened, but we wanted to verify it and learn why everything’s happening. Otherwise, we’ll go mad.”

Seteth’s green eyes went from your figure to Sylvain’s and back to you again. It was visible that he was torn, choosing what to do. The older man sighed, defeated. He had lost from the beginning, because he couldn’t conceal his fear from such an unexpected accusation.

“It’s a long story”, Seteth said. “Come into my office and have some tea.”

He let you in the room, only lit with candles scattered around. You and Sylvain sat on a sofa that was behind the coffee table. Sylvain went to a desk filled with piles of papers, where there was an electric kettle and various wooden boxes.

“I’ve got ginger tea and a four-spice blend. There must be some sweet-apple blend too somewhere here, Flayn’s favourite”, Seteth offered.

“I don’t mind which one”, you said, smiling politely.

“We’ll have whatever you're having, Seteth”, answered Sylvain.

There was a prolonged silence. The only sounds were the boiling water of the kettle and Seteth rummaging in his drawers. A nice aroma of ginger slowly spread through the air.

The man of the church placed three teacups on the table and sat in the armchair right in front of you. You had never noticed, but Seteth was fit, way too much for a man of his profession. It made sense, though, when you remembered his expertise upon a wyvern.

“I’m sorry about the light. I never got around installing lamps, and I like the candles. They remind me of more familiar times…”, Seteth said as he poured you a cup of steaming tea. “Where should I begin?”, he inquired.

“Did those things really happen?”, Sylvain asked first.

“Yes”, Seteth nodded matter-of-factly. “All those memories you’ve recovered have happened in the past. Or… in our other lives, as I like to say.”

“Are those things going to happen again?”, it was your turn to ask, then. Seteth could sense the fear in your voice.

“We hope the war will never repeat itself”, he reassured you. “We don’t really know what the future has in store for us, but we’ve deemed it very unlikely. The events that have happened in this era are completely different from those in the past.”

“Who are ‘we’?” Said Sylvain. “If you don’t mind the questions…”

“The Nabateans,” Seteth answered dryly. He took a sip of his cup of tea. “I’m sure you remember, the Immaculate One back in the battle of Garreg Mach, right?”

“Some things are… vague for me”, Sylvain lamented, because you had told him the story a million of times, but he couldn’t recall the encounter.

“I remember it. It was Lady Rhea, right? I remember Edelgard telling us she was a monster controlling the continent from the shadows.” You explained.

“Yes… So-”

“Wait,” Sylvain interrupted Seteth. “Can you turn into a dragon?”

“Not me,” he denied. “It's been hundreds of years, but that’s not quite the topic of this conversation, is it?” The green-haired man reminded him.

“But how did it happen? How did we end up living so many lives?”, you interceded. “Why didn’t we… just die?”

“It’s Byleth’s doing”, Seteth replied. “Lady Rhea, back when Byleth was born in 1159, placed Sothis’ heart in his, hoping our mother would live again…”

“Sothis… the Goddess? She’s real?” Sylvain was dumbfounded. You looked at your cup of tea, then to Seteth, unable to articulate an answer. You were thankful for Seteth’s patience.

“Yes. This gave him great power, as he became one with the Goddess. Which granted Byleth as well the power of turning back the hands of time.”

“So he’s been turning back the time after the war of Fódlan?”, you exclaimed.

“Byleth wanted to save us all from the tragedy that devastated Fódlan. He kept turning back to the year 1180, yet one way or another, the string of events led to the same. So, at last, Byleth decided he needed to go way back, to the beginning of everything.” He paused, and saw your faces focused on every word that was escaping his mouth. He smiled to himself, remembering those times when you both were younger and listened to his lessons. Your faces might have changed, and your voices and bodies, but the eyes of his pupils were still the same. “Sothis, aware of the future, made her holy sacrifice to prevent Nemesis and his kind to take over. The history of Fódlan changed just enough to give us a rest...”

“So Byleth’s hair will be dark blue forever now?”, Sylvain asked.

“Yes. The professor is no longer the vessel of the Goddess,” Seteth clarified. “There are no longer any crests nor Hero’s relics. Therefore, technology has prospered, and your generation was born later ‒ although we don’t know exactly why this happened.” Seteth paused to sip his tea and hear your questions, but all the information had left you and Sylvain dumbfounded. Therefore, he continued his speech, somewhat relieved that he could finally tell a human all these burdens. “Flayn used to cry a lot, weeping about your absence,” he tenderly recalled. “Lady Rhea and I were sad too. We’ve been through a lot, all of us, after all…”

“I have another question, Seteth…”, Sylvain started. He was in deep thought, just like you. “Why is it that we’ve got our memories back?”

“I honestly have no idea…”, Seteth shook his head from side to side. “It could be because of your previous relationship. Back in the Officers Academy you were on... extremely good terms, as far as I know, so when I was your teacher in this high school it surprised me that you two never coincided. However, you’ve found your way next to each other, so perhaps some things are meant to be…” The older man trailed off, but continued. “Well, I don’t know. I know for us, the kin of Sothis, it’s probably due to our blood. For humans… it’s harder to tell.”

You looked at Sylvain from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare to face the ginger.

“Isn’t this a big secret?” you questions, amazed that Seteth ‒ and no other than Seteth himself ‒ was confiding to you such details.

“Yes, it is”, Seteth confirmed, narrowing his eyes.

“Why are you telling us, then?”

“Because, as I said, I appreciate you. Both of you. We’ve fought side by side, you’ve rescued Flayn numerous times”, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “Sylvain risked his life for Flayn numerous times, while you were also close to Byleth. It’s unnatural not to trust you...” Then, Seteth spoke once more. “But I must request that this reunion stays between us. Please. We don’t want any resentment to be born in such a peaceful time as this is. And I’ve broken so many rules right now that I’m frankly scared of what might happen.”

“Okay, we won’t say anything, Seteth”, you nodded. “I promise.”

“You have our word”, Sylvain accepted.

“Not even… Rhea or Byleth. If you don’t mind, this never happened.” Seteth touched his beard.

“Wait, Seteth, I still have Professor Byleth’s letter”, you said, worried. “He must have noticed it went missing…”

“Don’t worry about that, Byleth is a disaster. He came by this morning, I’ll tell him he dropped it and that he should be more careful”, Seteth smiled.

“Thank you, Seteth. For real”, Sylvain said. And you saw for the first time in his eyes the lightest shadow of hope.

[enumakis]

YUJI ITADORI

M E T A M O D E R N I T Y

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: 𝘆/𝗻'𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝘀𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗯𝘆 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝘆— 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘀 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻!𝗮𝘂, 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿/𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀

++ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗷𝘂𝗷𝘂𝘁𝘀𝘂 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆.

it was a hot summer day and the h/c haired girl laid in bed with her legs dangling off the edge of the mattress, idly staring up at the ceiling as if she stared long enough, the boredom would somehow miraculously fade away into nothingness. she slightly shifted her head to the right in order to get a clear view of the piece of paper with the words “SUMMER BUCKET LIST” scribbled messily across the top of the page in big bold letters. the only thing keeping it up was a piece of washi tape she found lying around and the girl made a mental note a while back ago to buy a whiteboard in order to replace the system she currently had going on (although that mental note was now long overdue as it had been exactly 2 weeks since summer break started.)

a wave of deja vu washed over y/n as she watched the tape slowly peel itself off her beige walls. she let out a loud groan before sitting up and dragging her feet over to the flimsy piece of paper she called her bucket list. as she grabbed it, she flipped it over to the side she had written on and stared at it in contemplation.

“i should probably go get that whiteboard now, huh...” she thought to herself.

y/n wandered into a small store located around the less populated area of the mall. funnily enough, the girl had a distaste for overly crowded places and hated the stuffy feeling it brought upon her. but unfortunately, she had no other choice but to suck it up as this was the only store she was certain would have what she needed and for a good price as well because no way in hell was she going to drop over $5 on something she would most likely end up shoving into her closet by the end of summer. 

it was a nice and quiet store honestly: there were only 2 other people browsing around— 3 including the white haired cashier but he seemed to be off in his own little world as he was scrolling on his phone, all while munching on what y/n could only assume to be kikufuku.

“i could literally walk out with a pile of merchandise in my hands and he wouldn’t even notice.” y/n thought as she proceeded onto the next aisle.

jackpot. 

on her left sat the small abundance of whiteboards the store had in stock, but the only problem was that each design had caught her eye. y/n took a few steps forward as her hands reached out for the two whiteboards she took a liking to. the one in her left hand was the perfect size to fit her entire list, although the only downside was that the design of it was a bit plain— having only a black border around it. whereas the one in her right hand was a lot smaller but on the flip slide, it had a yellow border with various colors and sizes of flowers.

the girl bit her lip as her eyes darted between the two whiteboards in her hands. she was so deep in thought that she failed to notice the pink haired boy dashing towards her at an alarming speed. it was only then that she snapped out of her daze when she found herself forcefully dragged out of the store going over 25 miles per hour.

she stared at her wrist, then to the owner of the hand grabbing onto it.

“W-WOAH!” she tried to cement her feet onto the ground in order to prevent the male from dragging her any further than they had already gone, but his strength was almost overbearing. 

just as you were about to voice another complaint, you turned your head back a little and gasped when you saw 3 mall cops running right behind you. you two kept running until you guys reached the busiest and most crowded part of the mall.

“great, the cops think i’m this dude’s accomplice and he drags me into the part of the mall i hate the most. couldn’t have he just gone the other way?”

your inner thoughts were interrupted when you were suddenly yanked into the bathroom, giving you time to catch your breath.

“what the fuck dude?!” you whispered loudly. “you don’t just grab someone and then run off without an explanation!”

the boy turned around and once you got a good look of his face, your anger soon shifted into confusion. you were expecting an apologetic expression to be plastered onto his face, but instead of that, he had a cheeky grin dancing across his face.

“y-you!” your words were caught in your throat.

“hi!” his voice wasn’t deepest, nor was it too high. “sorry about that! my name is itadori yuji but you can just call me yuji, i don’t really roll with honorifics.”

you weren’t going to lie, he was actually quite cute. but that wasn’t the point. cute or not, this guy still dragged you into whatever stupid situation he got himself into and there was no way giving you the privilege of calling him by his first name was going to fix this problem. who did he think he was? a celebrity?

“first of all, i don’t care what your name is,” you stepped closer and poked his chest with your index finger. “and second of all, what the hell were you thinking dragging me into whatever mess you got yourself into?”

his smile faltered and it was soon replaced by a nervous expression, accompanied by a nervous scratching of the neck. 

“you see... my friend nobara dared me to shoplift but then she saw you and told me she’d add an extra $20 if i took you along for the ride.”

your jaw hung low. “am i really only worth $20?”

“what? no!” yuji shook his hands in denial.

“that’s besides the point!” you quickly came back to the reality of things. “you should be grateful i don’t have the cops on speed dial right now because i’ll let you off the hook.”

“really-”

you covered his mouth with your hand before he could finish his sentence. “only on one condition though.”

he raised an eyebrow, prompting you to continue.

“you have to treat me to lunch, oh! and you also have to go back to the store from earlier and buy me that whiteboard.” you stated.

“but what if the cops get me?” he asked worriedly.

“well... you can decline my offer and i can go ahead,” you slid your hand into your back pocket before pulling out your phone and flaunting the device in front of the pink haired boy. “and give those nice cops a call, or you can take the safer route of having a 50 percent chance of not getting caught.”

“fine! i’ll go back and buy that whiteboard for you.” he pouted.

“nuh-uh-uh, don’t pout at me, shoplifting is a serious offense dude,” you shifted all your weight onto one foot and crossed your hands. “so? what are you waiting for? times ticking y’know.”

with that final comment, he scurried out of the bathroom as you managed to stifle a laugh. you went back into your back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, unfolding it as your eyes scanned down the page.

12. find someone to complete the rest of the list with.

“this is going to be a fun summer.” you thought to yourself before shoving the piece of paper back into your pocket.

A/N: this was just a little one shot idea i had stuck in my head after i made a playlist dedicated to this cute boy haha. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but it turned out to be a lot shorter then i expected so i came to the conclusion to make this a little drabble heh

[nsheetee]

CEO!Jaehyun x Reader 

Part 1 || Part 2

Summary: In which you and Jaehyun deal with the aftermath of the media finding out about your marriage, learn to sacrifice some things for each other, and make new promises for your future

Warnings/Details: please read Part 1 first, includes other NCT members (Ten), mentions of some adult themes, some kissing, and some fluff

you wake up the next morning with a crick in your neck and what feels like the world’s biggest headache 

you sit up to stretch yourself out, trying to remember how you got to jaehyun’s office and why you ended up sleeping here

and that’s when you remember it all: the pictures, the scandal

and you wish you could disappear and just forget it all ever happened

jaehyun is still peacefully sleeping at your side and you let him enjoy his last moments of rest before you’re both thrown into what will probably be the most hectic week of your relationship

a knock on the door followed by jaehyun’s assistant popping his head in makes you pat your face to attempt to look like you’re awake

“your PR agent is here. should I send him in?” the assistant asks and you sigh

“can you give us 5 minutes?”

the assistant nods and closes the door, leaving you and jaehyun alone in the dark office

time to wake up and smell the roses, jaehyun

you carefully move some hair from his forehead and press a kiss to his smooth skin, raising a small groan from jaehyun

his arms find your sides and try to pull you down next to him again, but you pull back

“jaehyun... it’s time to wake up.”

“5 more minutes...” he mumbles, eyes still closed

“jaehyun, your PR agent will be here in 5 minutes.” jaehyun’s movements cease and he finally opens his eyes

the morning grogginess washes from his eyes at your words, and he’s reminded of the events that occurred last night

he sits up sharply, rubbing his cheeks and looking back at you

“oh god, that wasn’t a nightmare? that actually happened?” he asks and you nod

jaehyun reaches out to grasp your hand in his, playing with your knuckles before squeezing your fingers reassuringly 

“we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

you nod, truly feeling a little less nervous than before

jaehyun has never broken a promise, and you don’t think that streak will end now

the office door opens and jaehyun’s PR agent, along with his entire posse, walk in

you’ve met him a few times before, but luckily have never had to do business with him

ten is one of the best PR agents in this city, and a close friend of jaehyun before they were in the positions they are in now

which is probably why jaehyun trusts ten to fix this situation

“jaehyun, y/n, good morning.” ten greets you both as he sits on the chair across from the coffee table. “It looks like you both slept... well” 

you sink back into the couch, slightly embarrassed about what you must look like: messy bedhead and smudged make up

“ten, there has to be something you can do to fix this.” jaehyun gets straight to business

“here’s the deal: those pictures have been spreading around this city like a bad STD and everyone wants to know who that woman is and why she has such a big ring on her finger.” ten takes a moment to sip on his coffee

“so far, people have said that she’s just one of your hook ups that was caught on camera, and the ring is not from you. some people think she’s your baby mama and the ring is just decoration.”

“oh god.” you grumble, a hand coming up to your face to shield yourself from the other people in the room

you didn’t want to be in the media at all

and now after less than 12 hours of accidentally being exposed, THIS is how you’re being perceived?

this is exactly why you never wanted to be public about your relationship with jaehyun

no matter how close the two of you are or how much you love each other, people will always get the wrong idea and create fake stories for their own devices

“ten...” jaehyun warns from beside you and you can feel him tense up

“surprisingly, not many people have come to the conclusion that y/n is actually your wife. I guess not many people think you can settle down.” ten laughs from his spot but quickly stops when jaehyun glares harder at him

“I'm... going to have to say something that both of you won’t like. as your friend, jaehyun, I apologize in advance...” ten takes a deep breath

“ideally, we’d like to keep jaehyun’s “playboy” and “unattainable” image for the media. it’s added to your popularity and helped your business, you can’t deny it.”

ten is right

jaehyun’s image in the media, although not the most innocent, has fueled jaehyun’s career and has been one of the reasons jaehyun’s company is so popular

“...since y/n’s face wasn’t actually revealed in any of pictures, here’s the options: you can admit to the media that y/n was just a hook up and that she’s someone else’s wife-”

“no.” jaehyun doesn’t even let ten finish his thought

there is no way jaehyun is painting you like that to the media

and there is no way he’s saying you’re someone else’s wife

he doesn’t care that your face isn’t visible, he doesn’t think he has enough will to release a statement calling you “just a hook up”

it might break him, even if it isn’t true

“... okay,” ten sighs as jaehyun’s inflexibility, “another option could be to deny it all. the pictures of you two kissing are blurry enough to just say you were hugging. not the most solid excuse, but it could work for long enough to hold down the media until this dies down.” ten suggests

“ten...” you sigh and shake your head, “that’s too far-fetched. no one will believe that. there’ll be this... stain on jaehyun’s career.” jaehyun winces at the word “stain”

it’s a harsh way of putting it, but it’s true

if this isn’t completely reversed, you will become a stain on jaehyun’s life

it causes you to sink down further into the couch, the pounding feeling of your headache worsening 

“well how about-”

“jaehyun, you should just say I was a hook up.”

the room goes silent at your request

“are you sure that’s what you want?” ten asks, not believing you would submit yourself to being called a “hook up” and all the implications that come with it

you don’t want to do it

as much as you would like jaehyun to stand in front of the entire world and pull out his wedding ring for everyone to see that he was taken, and has been taken for years

there was a part of you that knows it’ll never happen

the situation was bigger than you and jaehyun, and now you could only hope to control one lie by adding more lies on top

everyone in this room is aware that this won’t save your relationship in the future

it’ll only put a band aid on this stab wound

“it doesn’t really matter what I want anymore. what matters in jaehyun’s career.”

sometimes, you have to sacrifice your wants for your love’s needs

jaehyun wishes you never had to be put in this position

and he also isn’t sure how he’s going to stand in front of the press and lie about his love life

but yet, here he is

the press meeting was scheduled a few days later

from what ten told you, lots of media companies and news stations would be there

so the word will travel fast

when ten asked if you wanted to join the press meeting, you almost shook your head and mumbled out fast “no’s”

but there was something that made you accept his offer

maybe it was because you were curious enough to see if any of those media companies will recognize you

maybe it’s because you wanted to hear jaehyun’s voice in person calling you a hook up

in some twisted way, maybe it could give you some type of closure or relief to know that the deed in done and that would be the end of it

so on the morning of the press conference, you dress up quietly and a chauffeur drives you to the company building

no one pays attention to you as you walk into a conference room

there are men and women with cameras and microphones chatting away with one another

and you walk past all of them with your head up

they don’t even spare you a glance

“y/n, you look like you need some coffee.” ten greets you as you approach him on the other side of the room

you shake your head, your stomach is too delicate for something like coffee right now

it isn’t long before the clock chimes 10am and the attention of the room is turned to the stage as jaehyun walks up the steps, across the platform, and to the microphone

you and ten stand next to each other, behind everyone else and slightly to the side to still be able to get a good look at the stage

“good morning, everyone. I am jung jaehyun and today I will be clearing up the situation of the pictures that surfaced last week.”

the conference room is completely silent, only the sounds of a camera shutters and some shuffling reporters waiting for their curiosity to be repressed

“last week, pictures were taken of a woman who came up to my office after hours. she was...” jaehyun trails off and when you finally look up from the piece of wood you found particularly interesting on the stage, you see that jaehyun has his gaze on you

you didn’t tell him you would be here, in fact you didn’t really talk about what will happen on this morning

you can tell he’s surprised to see you, but the next few emotions that run across his face are so quick that you don’t catch all of them

“I'm sorry...” he says into the microphone, making some people in the audience shuffle around

“I’m sorry... I was about to lie and say that that woman was a hook up.” 

you and ten both drop your jaws at jaehyun’s words and some confident reporters yell out a “so who was she?” 

“oh my god, why am I not surprised that this is happening” ten mumbles from beside you and downs the rest of his coffee in one gulp

“she's someone I met a long time ago. she’s someone important to me. she’s someone who I've been lucky to have in my life.” jaehyun goes on, completely ad libbing his speech

“is she a family member? were you just hugging in those pictures?” a reporter asks and some ruckus rises over her words

“she’s not a family member by blood. she’s the type of family you choose to have. she’s stood by me more than my own blood has sometimes.”

“so is she a lover?” a different reporter asks, and once again the volume of the chattering in the room rises.

“I do love her, but she’s more than a lover. she’s my friend and she’s the one who tells me if I'm getting too far ahead of myself. she is the love of my life, and it has been absolutely heartbreaking to not admit this fact for the past few years. she is my wife.” 

his words cause a shock to spread through the room

your eyes fill with tears, but when you try to blink them away. they just fall down your cheeks

on one side, you’re happy- you’re relieved

there was always a part of you that hated seeing jaehyun on those “Most Wanted Men” lists and hated the fringe group of crazy fans that sent him messages asking to marry him and have his babies

it could all finally start to dwindle down and you could finally be a normal couple, as normal as a CEO’s family can be

on the other side, you’re worried

a big part of jaehyun’s portrayal in the media was his status as a bachelor and one of the reasons his company is so well known and profitable was his top spot on those “Most Wanted Men”

jaehyun didn’t look like he regretted anything, though

“I’m going to have to apologize to my wife. I promised her that marrying me wouldn't have her face and name plastered all over the media. we both know that won’t be possible now. I hope that you all will give us some sympathy and time to show ourselves to the public as a couple. please understand and support us. thank you.”

and with that, jaehyun walks off of the stage with an onslaught of questions thrown at his back

there are many things you want to do right now: cry, laugh, maybe have a little celebratory champagne at 10 in the morning

but ten falls into a seat next to you, and you sit down next to him with a hand on his shoulder to console him

“I know this is probably, like, the worst day of your week. but this is probably the best day of my life.”

“you’re so bad as consoling people, y/n.” ten sighs and you rub his shoulder until he grabs your hand and pushes it off him and motions towards the exit

“what are you waiting for? go to your man. we’ll talk about how to get over your camera shyness later.” ten rolls his eyes and as his assistant comes up to him, you slip away from his side, through the hoard of cameras and reporters, and to the elevator on the other side of the building

you take a moment to be thankful for your nonexistant life in the media, to be able to walk through a crowded room and not be noticed, to be able to live without having everyone’s eyes on you

jaehyun’s announcement also marks the day you have to give up this luxury

jaehyun has been giving up things since he met you

it’s time to give up something for him, too

you walk across the top floor of his company’s building once again, the life and chatter about the new gossip so different than from when you were walking through here by yourself a few days ago 

you nod at jaehyun’s assistant as you walk by and open the door to his office to peek your head in

jaehyun’s sitting at his desk, his suit jacket off and his sleeves uncuffed as he looks out at the city through the wall of windows 

“mr. jung, you’ve got a visitor.” you startle him slightly, but he hums when he sees you

before you get any closer to his desk, he stops you and picks up a remote, pressing a button

curtains drop over the windows and the room lights come on to light his office

“I just got it installed. what do you think?” he asks as you finally approach him

“it’s perfect. should’ve got it a week earlier, though.” jaehyun rolls his eyes

once you’re at an arms length away, he pulls you into him and your lips finally meet

his force pushes you into his desk as he kisses you, but he’s gentle with you otherwise

“you didn’t tell me you were going to do that.” you mumble against him and he pulls back slightly

“I know. I didn’t know I was going to do it until I saw you in that room.” he admits, his hands finally finding their place on your cheeks. “are you mad at me?”

“no. it was about time everyone found out about us, I didn’t think it would happen so soon. will... you be okay?” you ask, glancing up at him

jaehyun knew exactly what you were asking

“that whole playboy act worked when I was a new CEO with a good looking face. I'm old now-” you cut him off with a laugh and he giggles with you for a bit, “-I'm serious. I'm not young anymore. I think it’s time for my image to change. maybe to a bit more... familial. maybe paternal?” he asks and your jaw drops in amazement

“I knew it. this was all one big elaborate ruse because you want a baby.” you laugh and jaehyun shrugs

“you would be... an amazing mom.” you both get serious once the words leave his lips

“if I would be an amazing mom, you would be one hell of a dad, jaehyun.” you nod as if agreeing with yourself, “thank you for doing that today. you have no idea how much it means to me.” you let tears surface again as you remember the words jaehyun said earlier that morning to the entire world

it was something you only thought could happen in your dreams, but jaehyun was good at making your dreams come true

“I meant everything I said.” his hands slip down your arms to gather your hands in his

he looks at the two rings on your finger before perking up as if remembering something and quickly rushing to his suit jacket, pulling out his own ring. “I can wear this everywhere now.”

he walks back and hands the silver band to you

just like several years ago, you slide the wedding band on his ring finger and admire how it shines in the lighting of the room

“I'm never taking it off now.” jaehyun promises and you smile at him, wrapping your arms around his middle and pulling him in a long hug

your head in his shoulder and his breath on your neck

“I know”

you stand in an embrace for a bit, scared and excited for the future, but grounded because you know one thing is certain

everything will be okay

[leannetalksanime]

Shōnen Anime Through The Feminist Lens

During quarantine, there has been a significant rise in the popularity of Anime; this wave of new fans brought back memories of when I first started exploring anime and how I came to love this media. Anime is a confusing word: In the western world, anime a separate genre of animated shows and movies from the typical western cartoons (ie. SpongeBob, Tom and Jerry, etc.) while in Japan, it refers to any animation in general. But for the sake of simplicity, I will refer to anime as a type of animated show or movie that uses signature aspects of Japanese-style animation.

Usually, a person is recommended mainstream shows from the shōnen genre when introduced to anime. Shōnen anime and manga are marketed towards boys between the ages of 12-18, but a lot of people outside of that demographic enjoy this genre as well. I find myself watching and recommending shōnen shows because of how exceptionally written the plot, the character development, and worldbuilding are. However, problems with female representation stem from the misconception that shōnen is only for boys or that girls don’t enjoy these types of stories. It is frustrating to see how little action and development female characters are given compared to their male counterparts and how often they are sexualized for the sake of comedic relief or fan service. 

NARUTO and NARUTO SHIPPUDEN

The Naruto series follows the journey of Naruto Uzumaki as he achieves his dreams to be acknowledged by the village he lives in and become the Hokage (the leader of the village). It’s a story about saving the world, protecting your loved ones, and believing in yourself.

Almost every person who has watched more than 3 years of anime has seen Naruto; those who haven’t still can recognize characters, references, and general plot points. Yes, it is THAT popular. I knew about the show but, I put off this anime for so long because of the silly reason that Naruto was an annoying brat at the beginning of the series. It took me a few months to build up my courage to pick up the series again— and wow! I was glad I did! I restarted my journey about two months ago and, as of today, I have less than 50 episodes left to watch to finish the series (keep in mind that the complete series has about 700 episodes). I got attached to the characters for their development and their compelling stories. I saw Naruto grow from being a troublemaker to a dependable hero, watched Sasuke go down a dark path for the sake of revenge, and learned about Kakashi and Itachi’s heartbreaking childhoods. But the girls? Where are the girls?

As well written as the story is, girls in Naruto are viewed as support-type characters for the boys; their stories aren’t touched upon and remain the same throughout the series. The lack of development of the girls is best highlighted by Sakura— the main female character and the most hated person from the series, and dare I say, all of anime. At the beginning of the series, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura train together to become ninjas with their teacher, Kakashi. Sasuke was a prodigy and excelled in every task, Sakura was known for her intelligence and chakra control, and Naruto lacked skill yet impulsively charged headfirst towards his enemies. As the show went on, Naruto and Sasuke’s skills have grown on par as they continuously try to learn new powers to one-up the other. But Sakura stayed the same. Even though she gained super strength and trained to become a medical ninja under the Fifth Hokage, her abilities and progress are constantly shadowed by her teammates' flashy powers (look at the picture above). This gap is even more prominent after the time skip in Shippuden where she becomes a “damsel in distress” which annoyed a lot of fans. She had so much potential to become a great character. Even if she was not the strongest ninja, the show could have taken steps to make her valuable in some way even if all they did was make her an efficient support character to Naruto and Sasuke instead of making her seem like she is always in their way. The unbalance caused by the lack of active female roles in Naruto leaves the female audience unrepresented. The female characters' underdevelopment implied that the girls are incompetent and therefore don’t get to make an impact in the story.  

ONE PIECE

I can talk about this show for hours. With 950+ anime episodes and 1000+ manga chapters, One Piece is synonymous with art; it follows the story of Monkey D. Luffy and his crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, on an adventure to find One Piece. Unlike other shōnen stories, One Piece immerses the audience into a mysterious world that is complex, dynamic, and feels real. Every single character is well developed— each of them have insanely detailed backstories, memorable personalities, and compelling motivations making them feel human. The story also tackles unconventional topics such as slavery, racism, the justice system, and classism. I could go on and on listing reasons as to why I love One Piece or why it is worth catching up to the 950 episodes, but I feel like you should let One Piece in and find that out for yourself. 

Unlike Naruto, women take on significant roles in One Piece and are often admired as role models. However, the lack of body diversity and the over-sexualization of the female characters leave a rather unpleasant aftertaste. 

As seen above, they all suffer the same-body syndrome— large breasts, impossibly tiny waists, and skimpy clothing. I get that these are common types of fanservice but, there are plenty of questionable design choices whenever fanservice is prioritized over logic (ie. the top-left girl is supposed to be a gladiator but her outfit does the very opposite of protecting her as it leaves her vital areas exposed). Another issue I have is with Sanji and his behaviour around women. He is the prime example of what the internet would call a ‘simp’ where his perverse tendencies and chivalry clash whenever he is near a female character. I feel like his overprotectiveness toward women and his willingness to die for them is counterintuitive to the powerful portrayal of women in the story. I understand that fanservice isn't going anywhere but the girls’ unrealistic designs and their treatment dilute their complex characterization to mere pretty and delicate objects.

CONCLUSION

From a feminist point of view, Naruto and One Piece have their own shortcomings when it comes to the inclusion and depiction of girls. I particularly chose to talk about them because they are the central faces of the shōnen genre, both of them depict common issues with female representation in most shōnen stories. It is understandable to a certain extent as to why the authors chose to draw/develop their characters, however, the lack of active female characters in shōnen stories fuels the ” shōnen is for boys, therefore, don’t expect female representation” narrative. It would do no harm to write stronger and more complex female characters in these stories, in fact, it would make the stories much more interesting as there is variation in perspectives and experiences— especially now because of the strong societal push toward feminism and the growing female audience consuming anime media. The fact that shounen does target boys is perhaps the most important reason to feature complex, active female characters in these stories—not only as supportive figures or dream girls, but as someone they can relate to and look up to as well.

EXTRA: NEW GENERATION SHŌNEN!

Naruto and One Piece have been in the anime scene for decades, but as societal values shift, many New Generation Shōnen are trying to tackle the inclusion of feminism in their stories. Here are some:

Boku no Hero Academia, one of the primary faces of New Gen Shōnen: A superheroes story where superpowers or quirks rule the world.  Physical advantages male characters may have during fights is insignificant as the winner is decided by their ability to use their power at its full potential and their compatibility with the opponent’s quirk. Women are shown to have different body types, breaking the skinny hourglass stereotype with healthy and muscular bodies. Read more on how BNHA is breaking the moulds here: https://www.animefeminist.com/feature-hero-academia-confronts-shonen-sexism/ 

Mob Psycho 100: A supernatural shōnen where the main character, Mob, struggles with masculinity, battles for self-improvement, and desires to just be an amiable and helpful person. His story breaks the typical toxic masculinity tropes in shonen stories and instead focuses on Mob’s emotional journey to being comfortable with who he is. Read more about this here: https://www.animefeminist.com/anime-feminists-top-25-anime-of-the-decade/

Demon Slayer, another progressive main face of the New Gen Shōnen: A historical supernatural story where women are given major roles and are never looked down upon by their male counterparts. As demon slayers, their attire is unique to each individual yet fit for their job and is not compromised for the sake of fanservice.

- Leanne.

[autistic-stedebonnet]

Mako’s Journey in Learning to Love Theater Kids

Chapter 1/?

In which Mako does in fact, go to plays.

notes- this fic is abandoned, don’t read if you don’t like being disappointed

-----

Mako didn’t go to plays. He went to his baseball games because well… they were his games, so that’s a given. He went to Korra’s swim meets, Bolin’s soccer games (before he quit to pursue his dreams of something or other. Mako had stopped paying attention after the 7th insane ambition)  and occasionally those mind-numbing competitions for Asami’s robotics club. Ok, they weren’t really mind-numbing, everyone there was just like, really smart and kinda made him feel like an idiot. Not to mention, Varrick is the chaperone for the robotics club, and they don’t exactly get on too well. Varrick is also the theater teacher, as well as a chemistry teacher, Mako isn’t exactly sure how. Before you ask, no it’s not Mr. Varrick. Varrick insists on being called by just his last name (or maybe it’s his first name, Mako’s never really bothered to ask. Bolin probably knows) But that’s off topic.

Mako did not go to plays under any circumstance whatsoever. But Mako also didn’t disappoint his younger brother who -without consulting anyone mind you- had gone and not only joined the theater program, but gotten the lead role in the next of the school’s terribly written plays. Bolin said that it was sheer, unadulterated talent. Mako preferred to call it ‘no one else auditioned, idiot.’ So, in conclusion, Mako went to plays under ONE circumstance.

--- “Kill me.”

Korra snorted as Mako slumped down in his seat, looking much too like a disgruntled Lin than he’d ever dare admit to. Asami shot a deathly glare in her direction before patting Mako’s shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sure it won’t even be that bad.” 

“Wow Asami, you’re a great liar!”

“Korra! Not helping!”

Mako sighed. “No Korra’s right-”

“As always.”

“-it’s gonna be terrible. You two don’t have to go to fucking Denny’s after with 3 dozen theater kids.”

Korra burst out laughing and Asami grimaced.

“You don’t have to go. Can’t you just drop Bolin off?” The latter suggested.

“No.” Mako snapped. 

Mako had a problem with leaving Bolin alone anywhere. According to his therapist, it related to the trauma he had from spending ages 8-14 on the streets, where leaving Bolin alone meant leaving Bolin to be stabbed in an alley and left for dead. Mako thought that was stupid. He didn’t have trauma. His therapist knew nothing and the only reason he still went was because it was either that, or Lin sent him to Air Temple island for a month hoping that their sickening happy-go-lucky shit would rub off on him just enough that he’d stop thinking everyone was out to kill him. 

Korra leaned over the table and stole one of Mako’s fries, not bothering to finish chewing before responding. “Boyin uh ee fine!”

“What?” Mako and Asami said in unison.

Korra swallowed with a dramatic eye roll. “Bolin’ll be fine. He’s 16, he-”

“No.” 

The subject was dropped and Bolin sat down beside Mako, out of breath and grinning so wide to the point that it was almost unsettling. “Who’s excited for the play tonight!”

“Whoopee.” Mako grumbled, resisting the urge to slam his face into the table. --- “What the fuck is that costume!?” Mako cried, staring at a smiling Bolin pictured on the front of the program.

“Mako!” Asami scolded. “It’s starting.”

Right. Think before you speak Mako. Not everything that comes to your mind is socially acceptable to say out loud, don’t- Shut UP. 

The lights faded and a horribly composed piano piece began playing. Mako was about 90% sure that someone was backstage letting a cat walk across the keys. Bolin waltzed out on stage followed by Korra’s gigantic polarbear dog, Naga, that she’d apparently volunteered for the play. Mako was pretty sure she was getting extra credit in Chemistry for doing it. And- oh.

 Mako snapped his head over to look at Korra and Asami, the former of which was holding back laughter to the point of tears while the latter slapped her hands over her mouth, horrified.

“What the hell is he wearing? It’s even worse than the one in the picture!” Mako hissed. “Is that even allowed?!”

“Raiko’s gonna have a fit!” Korra wheezed, earning several glares from the surrounding audience.

“Isn’t this set in the South pole?” Asami asked. 

Korra nodded. “Oh yeah he’d totally be dead from frost bite.”

“My brother is a moron.”

“Who was in charge of the costumes?” Asami whispered.

Korra giggled. “Probably Eska.”

Mako raised an eyebrow. “Your insane cousin?”

“That’s the one.”

10 minutes later, Korra leaned over and whispered to Mako, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure this is satire. Remember that mover from last year that was supposedly based on Southern Water Tribe culture, but was just a whole mess of cultural appropriation?”

“The one from that weird Earth Kingdom director that dressed everyone like… well like how Bolin’s dressed, and only cast two people actually from the Southern Water Tribe?”

“Yea, I think they’re kinda mocking that. Varrick’s from the Southern Water Tribe, so it’d make sense.”

“That does explain why Bolin keeps ‘accidentally’ referring to everyone as Earth Kingdom citizens.”

“And why he’s dressed like that.”

“That too.”

“Although that might also be to distract from the terrible dialogue.” 

“Distract- Korra! Please don’t make me think that everyone in here is ogling my brother.”

Korra shrugged and Asami swatted her on the arm, shushing them both. 

“Spirits! Mako, Asami!” Korra whisper-shouted, breaking the silence that’d lasted all of 45 seconds. “That’s the kid that kept hitting on me a few years ago.”

“Who?” Mako turned to her, brows furrowed. “There’s like 5 people up there.”

“Wu. He transferred here the year after you and Korra came.” Asami explained.

“Yea ok, but-”

“He’s the spindly kid who looks like a 12 year old next to Bolin.”

“Korra!” 

“Am I wrong? And besides, he was a jerk to me when we were 14, I’ll call him scrawny as much as I please.”

Wu. Huh, he’s kinda cute. Mako’s thoughts dared to say. Wait, what?! No he’s not! I mean, I’m straight!

“I think he’s gotten better.” Asami said, but she didn’t quite sound like she believed herself. “He hasn’t hit on me since a couple years ago.”

“It’s probably internalized homophobia.” What the fuck Mako, learn to shut up dammit. 

Asami’s eyebrows shot up and she grinned all too knowingly. Korra just about broke her neck swiveling to face Mako. “Probably what?”

“In-internalized homophobia.” Mako stuttered. SHUT UP! “Y’know the whole, hitting on every girl in sight to seem like, super straight?”

“What would you know about that Mr. Heterosexual?” Korra replied.

“Nothing!” Thank the spirits it’s too dark for them to see your face, you probably look like a tomato-carrot!

“Korra,” Asami scolded, skillfully fighting back a laugh of her own. 

Mako shoved his face into his scarf and muttered a slew of profanities that’d make Lin proud. A few minutes passed before he looked up, thankfully finding both Korra and Asami focused on the play. He could get through this. Only an hour to go, plus intermission. He was gonna kill Bolin after this. --- “Mako!” Bolin cried, bounding up to Mako, thankfully dressed in his normal clothes again. He threw his arm around his older brother and grinned. “How excited are you to meet everyone.”

“Oh, so excited, ” Mako deadpanned.

Bolin stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “Mako buddy, don’t be so grumpy! You’re gonna love everyone.” He smiled earnestly and ran out to the car, waving to about 5 people along the way.

Waving. Mako knew that his brother had more friends than him, it’d always been like that. Bolin was the friendly one, the funny one. But it was still surreal seeing him close to people Mako had never spoken to. Everyone liked Bolin. 

“Mako! Earth to Mako!”

Mako shook himself from his reverie and started the car with a sigh. “We’re leaving at 10 on the dot.”

“Awww, Mako!” Bolin whined, turning his polarbear dog eyes on Mako. “C’mon! That’s only two hours!”

“It’s two hours too many.”

---

I really hope you like chapter 1! I’m always open to feedback :)))

@chi-blocker-ty-lee @linbeifuckmeup

chapter 2

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name part 12!

Chapter 12: Child of Pain

5 years earlier:

Liana quietly made her way down the hall, careful not to alert anyone of her presence. Her eyes rested on her bedroom door at the end of the hall yet the images that flashed before her were of earlier that day - when the love of her life was taken from her. She stared down at her dress. The blood splattered across the yellow fabric had now darkened from a bright red to a reddish-brown hue. She bit her lip as she struggled to hold back her sobs. Just this morning she had been filled with so much hope and joy for the future and now it felt as though her heart had been ripped out and torn into a million pieces. There were no words that could capture and describe her anguish and despair. As she came closer to her room Liana heard a voice coming from one of the rooms off the hallway. She stopped and realized that it was her Father’s voice coming from his office. She inched closer to the door and silently peered into the room. She saw him sitting at his desk, talking in a rather hushed tone on the phone.

“It’s been taken care of” Norvan spoke into the phone. He listened to the response from the man on the other end of the line. Once he was finished responding, Norvan spoke again. “It’s a shame Erik couldn’t be persuaded to join our cause. He had all the makings of a remarkable leader. Tsk tsk. Such a waste…Until later….Goodbye Dalmar.”

Liana stood there in shock, her face ashen white. Try as she might, she couldn’t comprehend what she’d just heard. She hardly dared dwell on the thought yet it couldn’t escape her, Her father’s words echoed in her mind. It’s a shame Erik couldn’t be persuaded to join our cause. He had all the makings of a remarkable leader…Such a waste. Had her father been behind his death, him and this “Dalmar” person. Even though she was scared to learn the answer she knew she had to find out no matter what it took.

…..

Present-day - Hours Earlier: 

Milena sat in her Father’s office chair holding the photograph of him and her that graced the desk. This evening her thoughts had been on a multitude of things. Her father. Her life. But especially on tomorrow night. Everything she had worked for had led to this moment. If things went according to plan her goal would be within reach. Only a few months ago she thought her dream would never be a possibility, now it was nearly reality. She glanced from the photo to the gun and knife strapped to her hip. Her life, who she had become, in some weird way, captured in a single frame. Before such a sight would have frightened her. But now her heart did not even race slightly at the image. If she was honest to herself this was not how she imagined her life but the one thing it gave her, that she wanted more than anything, was control. Growing up she never had any. Over her mother dying. Over her sister leaving. Over her father being taken from her. But now she did. She was the one who dealt out the cards. Who held the fate of not only herself but for others as well. 

Milena heard a knock come from the front door. She sat up and made her way to the entrance of her family home. She opened the door and found Elias standing there. “Well, this is a surprise. Not sure which type though.” She sassed.

“Nice to see you’re in a good mood” he responded sarcastically. 

She held the door open for him. “Come in.” Elias walked into the house into the parlor and Milena shut the door behind him. She turned to him and crossed her arms “What’s up?”

Elias feigned confusion. “What’s up?” He repeated.

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re forgetting how much we’ve worked together over the past couple of months. I know that look you get when you want to talk. So get to it.”

He sighed. “I've been thinking about this plan and I don’t know if we should go through with it. I recognize the opportunity that this is but in my experience I’ve found it best to carefully consider every step I take.”

“I have thought about this. Many times in fact. And every time I come back to the same conclusion. Our entire plan hinges on making sure our targets are brought in. We do that, we’re home free.”

Elias held up his hand. “I agree. But perhaps this isn’t the best way to go about it. This whole deal with the Avagyan brothers. I just feel the fewer people involved in this whole thing the better.”

“Fine.” Milena stretched out her arms exasperatedly. “You want to grab some NSA agents off the street, go right ahead. Be my guest.” She pointed at herself. “I for one am sure not going to do something so stupid! Especially after all the time and effort, I’ve put into getting here. This is what the last months have been about. Getting right here. Taking Dalmar down. Carrying on where my father left off.” 

“I know. This is why I strongly believe you should reconsider this. You said it yourself, we know who the actual players are in this game—”

“Exactly! This is why I’m not going to let Dalmar slip through my fingers or do something to screw it up. Now I’m almost certain we could take them ourselves but what if something were to happen? What if word got around about those responsible? I’m sure as heck am not getting charged for attempting to kidnap two agents. The less they have on us, the better. Besides, your ledger is already full enough.”

“You know one could say the same about yours soon enough.”

She stared intently at him and swallowed hard. “Believe me. I know.”

…..

15 years earlier:

Liana lay on the foam of the black interlocking mat, struggling to escape the forearm held to her neck. She locked her legs behind the girl’s back and strained to lift her hips. Inch by inch she struggled to raise herself off the ground. She was utterly exhausted and felt as if her entire body was on fire. Try as she might to push her assailant off she knew she didn’t have enough strength left. Finally, her body gave way and she collapsed to the floor. The other girl pushed more firmly against Liana forcing her into submission. After a few seconds, Milena lifted her foreman and stood up. 

The Krav Maga instructor walked towards the two girls and spoke. “Alright. That’s enough for today. Great job girls! You're getting better every single lesson. I can clearly see your impro—”

Norvan walked towards the instructor and interjected, “Let them go another round. Liana needs the practice.”

“They already have. Six more in fact by your insistence. You can see they’re exhausted. I'm sure I don’t need to explain how the more tired you are, the greater your chances are for injury.”

“Fine.” He relented, “We’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Until Tuesday then.”

He looked at his daughters, “Grab your things. Let’s go.”

Liana and Milena walked to the side of the room to grab their backpacks. “Are you okay?” Milena asked as she slid her backpack on.

“I’m fine. Nowhere near as good as you though.” She responded without looking at her older sister.

“Hey.” Milena lightly touched her little sister’s arm. Liana looked up at her. “You did great…besides, I've been practicing longer than you have. A few more lessons and I’m sure you’ll catch me in no time.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“Best get over to Dad. You know how much he hates it when we’re late.” She said as she began walking towards him. 

“Yeah…I know how much he hates…” Liana sadly whispered to herself. She quickly picked up her bag and made her way over to her Dad and sister. The three of them exited the martial arts school. 

“Milena, do you mind taking your and your sister’s bags to the car?” Norvan asked. “We’ll be there soon.” 

“Sure,” Milena responded. Milena took the bag from her sister and started walking towards the car. Once Milena had rounded the corner of the building Norvan slapped Liana across her face. 

Liana didn’t even wince or cry. She didn’t even take a step back from him. For her, her Father’s abuse and beratement were as normal as breathing. They simply were a constant part of her life, a part her father took great effort to conceal from others.

“What the heck was that?! Every time we come here you look more pathetic!”

“I’m sorry. I tried my be—”

“Your best.” He spat “You know what the difference is between you and your sister?!!!”

Liana stood there silently, wondering whether or not to answer. She felt her father’s hand once again strike her across the face.

“I…I don’t…” she stammered. 

“She’s not an imbecile” he leaned down and stared directly into her eyes. “Like you.”

Liana shuddered and bit her lip to keep a sob from escaping. Norvan straightened up and grabbed her hand. “Come on.” He yanked her hand and pulled her alongside him down the sidewalk. Liana glanced to the right and saw an ice cream shop across the street. She saw a father and daughter sitting at a table outside the shop, laughing and giggling together as they ate their ice cream cones. Smiling. Giggling. With Dad. That life, that picture, couldn’t be further from her world. She looked back up at her father as he tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her towards the car.  

…..

Present-day: 

Liana sat on the edge of her couch, an old photo album placed on the table in front of her. Her eyes intently looked at each one of the photos, thinking back to the moment each image was taken, moments forever frozen in time. She turned the page of the photo album and saw two pages filled with photos of her and her sister. She ran her fingers over the images. In some ways, those times seemed like yesterday and at the same time like a lifetime ago. One was an image of them having one of their “famous” tea parties. One was of them dressed as princesses. And another captured the two of them holding on to each, laughing hysterically. They hadn’t had much to laugh about back then yet strangely enough she couldn’t recall what had resulted in such a display of laughter from her and Milena.

Liana snapped out of her reverie as she heard a knock at the door. She stood up from the couch, made her way to the front door, and opened it. 

“Hi, Mrs. Agassi.”

“Hello, Ms. Vardyan. I brought over some of your mail.”

“Thank you. You can set it on the kitchen table.” She held the door open wider for Mrs. Agassi.

Mrs. Agassi entered the apartment. “I was over in the mailroom and saw your box. My, it was overflowing.” She set the letters and packages down on the tabletop. “Thought it best to come over and give it to you before someone leaves another one-star review because of the property’s ‘lack of neatness or cleanliness.’”

“Thank you. I have been rather busy lately.”

“Think nothing of it doll. I saw you get back in a little bit ago. I just got back myself from one of Dalmar’s rallies.”

“Really? What was it like?” Liana feigned ignorance. 

“It was quite something. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. The hall was full of his avid supporters.”

As Mrs. Agassi spoke images of the rally earlier that night, Dalmar on stage, the throngs of people, the cheers echoing from the crowd, flashed in Liana’s mind. She crossed her arms. “And what do you make of him?”

“When it comes to my judgment of men, you should know I’m no expert. Just look at my relationship history.” Mrs. Agassi laughed. “But in my experience, these up-start politicians are usually in it for their own gain. The only one who seemed to actually care for the people of Krudia was Erik.”

Liana swallowed hard as she heard his name. “Erik…Erik Davtyan?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Agassi sighed. “He seemed so genuine and real. He was so bright. So charismatic. A natural-born leader. It was a dark day when he….” She trailed off. “I along with many others believed he was this country’s hope. Its future. It’s a shame that we couldn’t see what he’d become.”

“Yeah. It is.” Liana willed herself to keep her composure.

Mrs. Agassi noticed the old photo album laid across the coffee table. “Reminiscing?” she smiled.

“Something like that.”

Mrs. Agassi walked over to the table and picked up the photo album that lay on top. “I don’t believe I've seen these photos of you.”

“I found the album in a box with some of my old things.”

“You never know when you will stumble on something from your past. Heck, I still find some of my ex-husband's argyle socks all the time. And we’ve been divorced for ten years now.” She laughed. 

Liana forced a light chuckle. 

“So who’s the girl in these pictures with you? She looks a lot like you.” Mrs. Agassi asked as she looked down at the photos again.

“My sister.”

“Your sister huh? I don’t believe you’ve mentioned her before.”

“I guess it just never came up,” Liana replied coolly. 

Mrs. Agassi placed the photo album back on the coffee table. “Are you two close? Do you keep in touch often?”

Liana tried to find the words. “Um..we…” she sighed. “It’s one of those things. You know.”

Mrs. Agassi, sensing that Liana did not want to speak further on the subject, decided not to press her anymore. Something that she was not inclined to do as she was a very curious woman.

“Well, I best be going. Apparently, Mr. Balian is having more trouble with his plumbing. I keep telling him it’s that cookie dough his wife makes but hey what do I know.”

Liana gave a slight smile. Mrs. Agassi then made her way to the door and left the apartment. After closing the door behind her landlady Liana went back to sit on the couch. Her eyes once again drifted downward to look at the old photographs. 

It was the first time in years she had mentioned her sister to anyone. Truth be told she tried her best not to even think of her, let alone mention her. They had been close at first growing up, but over time had drifted apart. Try as she might, it was impossible to forget that because of her, she was never good enough for their father. After all, how could anyone, let alone a girl like her, ever compare and live up to Milena - the epitome of what a daughter should be. Everything she did she excelled at. She was just like their father as he would so often remind the both of them. While she was the complete opposite. Never excelling in anything she did no matter how hard she tried, always the object of her Father’s disappointment and rejection. Worst of all her mother had died while giving birth to her - something which her dad had never forgiven her for. She couldn’t recall how many times he told her to her face that it was her fault her mother was dead. That she had killed her. Due to this, she had been forced to endure her father’s anger and abuse for years. Suffering silently. Praying that it would end. But it never did. Out of all the hurt and pain her father had inflicted on her, nothing could ever compare to him cruelly taking Erik from her life. Only when she left home, and in doing so also Milena, did her torment at his hands finally end. But still, she was left with the trauma and emotional scars he had caused and consuming anger towards him for all that he had done. No matter how hard she tried not to be she was also angry and bitter at her sister for being the perfect daughter. For being an unattainable standard she was forced to measure up to and become. Still, she didn’t wish upon or take any pleasure in causing Milena pain or grief. Deep down she still loved Milena and shared a bond with her that would never fully be broken. She wished, with all her heart, that things didn’t have to be this way between them but they did. Their father had decided that a long time ago. 

[academiadaisies]

my struggles with studying

I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.

I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3

School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.

But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.

Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.

In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.

But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.

This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.

*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.

And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varieties of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.

I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.

I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.

But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”

Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.

And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.

But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”

I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.

Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3 (also this is a repost because I tried posting last night but it wouldn’t go to the tag, hope it works this time)

[bugaboowritings]

Date My Best Friend, You Dumb Cat - Superhero Accidental Reveal Fic

Alya Found Out Adrien's Secret and is MAd that He Isn't Doing His Homework

So... I had this piece in my head since I saw that old Instagram post about Alya and Adrien being partners for a school project and that comic about Adrien and Alya having an accidental Reveal when their glamour dropped. 

May make this a series.. Also have this same thing but with Chloe - Check them out! ( 1 ) and ( 2 )

And then with Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien - ( 1 )

Two months, one week, three days, and seven hours since the new semester started. 

Two months, one week, and twelve hours since Miss Bustier assigned the first group project.

Two months, one week, eleven hours, and forty minutes since Alya Césaire and Adrien Agreste were randomly selected to be partners.

Four minutes after that, Alya teased her best friend mercilessly if she wanted to trade partners. 

Two years, six months, two weeks and twenty-three hours since Ladybug and Chat Noir first appeared in Paris.

Two years, six months, and three weeks since Alya met her best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the first day of school in a new town. 

Two seconds since she discovered Chat Noir’s identity. 

Two years, six months, and two weeks since Marinette confessed to Alya about her crush on a certain blond she thought Marinette strongly disliked. 

Seven seconds since she found out about Chat’s secret identity. 

Two years and five months since Alya decided to investigate the real-life superheroes patrolling the city. 

Eleven seconds since the mask and the magical spandex fully disintegrated off her skin. 

What happened only moments ago played as if someone clicked freeze-frame on this point of Alya Césaire’s life as her miraculous glamour dropped. 

Leaving Alya Césaire in the cold alley as Rena Rouge vanished into thin air. Ending the superhero illusion when her suit reached its five-minute limit.

The dazzled Lady-blogger watched the little coy Fox God of Illusion twist their expression in amusement. The corners of their mouth turned up in a sharp smile, playfully flicking their tongue at their user. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun explaining to the Leader Lady.” 

-

“You’re-! ADrienN!” Alya choked.

 “How- OH MY GOD! You’re- Oh my god!!” She stuttered, barely grasping what was going on as she tripped over her words while the fatal conclusion hit her gut. Her stomach felt hot and twirled in knots. Her cold, clammy hands traveled to her curls, locking her fingers in her hair as she pulled strands away from her face. Not believing what she just witnessed. 

  Alya swore on this day that she went brain dead before her eyes widened and readjusted to the dark atmosphere. Without her mask, Alya was left without her magical night vision, forced to focus on the scene organically while her glasses slowly dipped off the bridge of her nose. 

 The gears clicked and ground in Alya Césaire’s observant mind, jumping faster to conclusions than a gun could fire a bullet into a clear sunny day. Pinning ideas and theories then shuffling around clues that could make this sound believable to herself. Even as she sat there, sitting in the middle of the alley-way trash bin, watching the aftermath of the Miraculous unfold. 

 GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

   Of course, she JUST HAD to make the grave mistake on dropping into the same alley that Chat Noir did.

   AND OF COURSE!!-, she did it without thinking it through! Not while the adrenaline levels spiked up in the blood in her veins, giving her this deadly sense of invincibility. The same feeling that made her fearless when she leaped over buildings and dropped from heights that could kill her and her courage.

   However, in the heat of the moment, there’s no time left to worry when her necklace gave an urgent beep. Alya remembered thinking that she had more time to spare, yet the second she blinked -her orange suit was already peeling off her body. Causing her to lose her footing in mid-air which led to one of the most ungracefully landings she has ever made. Drawing blood as she scraped her hands hitting the brick wall and almost breaking her neck if she hadn’t landed in the stuffed dumpster or pushed her feet under her weight to cushion her fall. Her sweatshirt returned back on her body and her hair was no longer crimson red, but tree bark brown with fading colored tips. 

Then with a loud THUMP, BOOM, and CRASH, a commotion that surely woke up the surrounding neighborhood and scared off any stray cats in the area, the two heroes fell out of the sky and landed into their civilian selves. 

Of course, Alya didn’t realize she wasn’t the only one that crash-landed in the alley until it was a second too late to do anything about it. 

  Untangling herself from the garbage-bins tagged with graffiti and unsettling stains, Alya puffed and huffed, holding her breath to trap the last bit of fresh air she had stored in her lungs. Only to gasp for air, not because of the grime and disgusting odors around her but she noticed the glow and gleam of green and black across from her. 

  Alya swore that she covered her eyes, for her sake and his- but she recognized that voice as it groaned. Along with those familiar orange shoes that kicked up and around, same with the sweats with a familiar logo stitched on the side. 

The Gabriel Brand. 

Gabriel Agreste. 

THE Gabriel Agreste. 

One of the top lines in fashion.

Practical clothing but at expensive prices. 

A-And that! What he was wearing was part of a new street-wear! One only rumored to exist and if so- it wasn’t hitting the stores for a figure of a few months!! (Thank you, Marinette for your vast knowledge of fashion and launches and your endless rambles about them.)    

Yet, how could-!? How could this sly cat have access to the brand or rumored collection!? How could this leather-wearing flirt have the cash to have anything with the Agreste brand on it?

Was he some sort of business partner? A loyal customer with benefits? Heir to a company that has ties with the Agreste? New money or old?!

No- that can’t be right. Gabriel wouldn’t just hand off his secret collection unless…Unless it was someone worth giving to. 

It wasn’t until the infamous cat raised his head up in a moan that Alya Césaire, local Lady-blogger, saw his face, Chat Noir’s face, without the mask. 

As ungracious this whole situation was, this seemed like the only right way to figure out the kitty’s identity. 

All thanks to a series of unfortunate events and some bad luck. 

Something totally on-brand for him. 

 The blond brushed his hair with the tips of his fingers before lightly rubbing the sore spot over his neck. Rocking his head back and forth and around to alleviate the stinging. His forehead wrinkled as he groaned once more, knitting his eyebrows together. All before opening his acid green eyes wide at the reporter when she released the breath she held in. 

  Adrien Agreste being this cocky superhero that swirled and twirled about the city- the same one that wore a bell and slick black leather- explained so little and left so many questions unanswered.

 It did, however, explain the little details that she looked over when it came to Adrien Agreste. How he jumped into action when he heard the Akuma Alert, how he didn’t run for his life but quickly claim that he needed to go to the bathroom when a giant semi-monster or Akuma loomed over the city, how he seemed to be a true Ladybug Stan since the beginning it all- even when Paris was barely getting used with their new super-reality, how he checked with Alya after almost every blog post if she uploaded something during school hours, the quick comments and awkward praise given about his alter-ego when the Miraculous Duo came to be the topic again in the lunch table. 

The Lady-blogger knew that Chat Noir playing offense when Darkblade came to claim Paris could be a clue, how Chat Noir knew where to take the students when evacuating the school after a nasty Akuma attack when he ‘supposedly’ never been there, and then how Chat Noir called everyone by their name when it was the first time her classmates even had the chance to see him in person and not on a news-recap. 

 Why Adrien had to miss the grand installment of the Miraculous Duo Statue in the park, but he never really missed it because he was THERE! Chat Noir was in her classroom and she didn’t even-!!

Alya gasped. 

“Our project is due before 12!” Cupping her mouth before throwing her hands out to the blond. Yanking him out of the trash by the collar of his jacket.

“Why are you here and not finishing the first draft?!”

Adrien Agreste, still pressed up against the alley wall with his back supported by day-old trash, digested Alya’s words before rolling his eyes. A snarky reply slipped his mouth as he shifted his body into a more comfortable spot after getting squashed in the tight alleyway. 

“An evil super villain possessed a child, Alya. I have priorities.” 

  “And our grade isn’t!” 

Adrien tucked his legs under himself as a cat kwami popped out of his light blue jacket. Struggling to get on his feet from the buzz sensation in his legs after his fall, resting his hands on the dirty concrete before showing more of his superhero persona.

“Again priorities, Alya!” He uttered, ruffling his hair as he took their current situation in. 

Stretching his arms as he stood up to his full height. His hair, messy and tangled, suede one side to the other as Adrien shook his head. 

“I can’t leave my Lady alone when a crazed toddler is on the loose.” 

----

Who would have guessed? 

That the Cat with the dangerously charming grin was the same boy that can’t go out with his friends if work intervened or when his dad flatly said no to his face through a tablet held by his black-suited assistants. The guy that would merciless flirt with the red heroine (he still drinks respect women juice tho) was outside of the world of superheroes and villains, a guy that never went out on a proper date with anyone before. 

God, this would surely make a great article. 

Alya Césaire had uncovered one of the biggest secrets in Paris, all in a matter of some lucky seconds. Not because of her totally-awesome journalist skills, but all because of dumb luck. 

Wait-.

She just lost her secret identity too. 

--Ladybug is going to kill her.

Alya got sick and pale when she thought this situation over, not with her Lady Blogger brain, but with her superhero ego. Forgetting how her project was late or the fact if she didn’t return home quickly her family would worry if they didn’t find her in bed at this hour. 

Ladybug is going to kill them.

 No-... she gonna take away their miraculous FIRST so they then don’t have a chance to fight back and THEN kill them. Most likely after her speech about breaking the most important rule of being a superhero. 

“Keeping your secret identity a secret.”

Alya groaned into her hands as the memory of Ladybug’s lectures and advanced fighting skills played in her head. 

She is so dead.  

Letting that fact sink in before taking in a big deep breath. 

“It’s fine,” she can work with this. She can bounce back. She can just explain this to Ladybug without losing her chance at being a Miraculous Holder. It’s gonna be fine- 

Parting her hands from her face to see Ch-Adrien pull out a little container of cheese for the black kwami nagging and floating by the blond’s head. The tiny god grinned as it nibbled (inhaled) on that snack as it hovered over his Chosen’s shoulder. 

Alya screamed in her palms once more, making her peace on earth.  

---

Alya thanked Adrien for the slice of cheese. Handing it to Trixx to get him ready for another transformation. The duo decided that it was better to wait it out for their Kwamis rather than try to walk home in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. 

Once Alya came over the shock of finding out Chat Noir’s identity, she bit her tongue before asking any questions. Taking in what was behind the mask, a good observation was key for a reporter since that can tell more than questions itself could.  

His hair was different, it wasn’t the right length (when thinking of his magical alter-ego). Nor did it curl by his ears, but it still had that ‘swish’ and ‘fluff’ texture. His eyes were still that acid green color but seemed more on the light shade and looked more ‘natural’ and ‘safe’ compared to the huge, glowing cat eyes he had before. The same eyes that scared criminals in pit black or lit up a night sky. His face’s silhouette matched the pictures of the hero’s. His jaw was the perfect shape and his height was exactly the same, give or take the added milometers from his boots. Yet, it seemed so weird to see this. 

There, Chat Noir peeled away left Adrien Agreste. Laying against the tagged-up walls and using the crunchy trash bags to break his fall and now as bean-bag chairs as he laughed at something his Kwami whispered. 

“You’re Chat Noir.” 

It was the first sentence she said without coughing or yelping. Scaring Adrien to just hear Alya speak in her stern tone, ruining the silence he thought they (unspokenly) agreed to keep. Nevertheless, Adrien should have known that the quiet could only last for a while before Alya recovered and spit questions with a blink of an eye. 

It was too good to be true if he thought they could just forget about this and walk away. 

 The golden boy bit his bottom lip in what seems to be a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and a dash of amusement. Giving Alya a shy smile before shrugging his shoulders. 

“Guess the cat is out of the bag,” Adrien, no, Chat Noir grinned.

 The Lady-blogger had to stop the burning need to deck him so hard. 

 A thin, yet toothy smile appeared before losing it when Cha- Adrien’s kwami, a tiny grumpy cat-god with two white-ivory fangs that stood out in contrast with his deep purple fur, asked for more cheese before showing the rest of his sharp teeth in an attempt for a wide innocent smile. 

It was terrifying. 

“GOD!” Alya cried, rolling her eyes as her fox kwami fled to talk to Chat Noir, wait no, Adrien’s kwami. Still not over that her classmate was part of the Miraculous Duo. The reporter gasped for air even harder as she reached another conclusion. 

“I knew it was you! AH! Ha! I knew it in the beginning!” Alya uttered, switching from frustrating sounds to a laugh that made Adrien question the report’s ability to handle and process all this before Alya pumped her fist up before cursing the universe out loud. Her painted nails rubbed circles on her temples while she munched on this memory in her own flashback. 

“I-urgh! I knew! I knew you looked too much like Chat Noir, too much to call it ‘chance’. But no!- Marinette brushed me off. Telling me ‘That’s too good to be true!’- and now!” Tossing her hands out to the blond and his kwami. 

The undeniable evidence that landed on her plate. 

“Here you are! Both Chat Noir and Adri-“

A cold hand cupped on Alya’s mouth. Stopping her from shouting even louder or even finishing her sentence.  Pushing her back to the old brick wall. 

The Lady-blogger instinctively fought back, her hands reaching for the fingers over her mouth, but she stopped herself before she scratched the blond or bit his hand (or worse, spit in it). 

“Alya,” Adrien hushed. “I know that you know this- but you can’t tell anyone about this. Living or dead- Not a soul, not in any journal entry, not on your blog or to Nino, ever. Not even to Marinette.” 

Alya nodded at the sudden serious tone. 

“Bad enough that Hawk Moth is still out there with his eye out for our heads. If you or I get akumatized it’s gonna be game over for Ladybug and Paris. You understand that, right?” 

Alya shoved his hand away. 

“First off, your hand smells like Camembert. Gross.” 

“Second,” she sighed. Letting her fingers press against the creases of her forehead before sliding down to her cheek. 

“. . .Does Ladybug know?” 

Adrien’s fingers tugged on his hoodie string as he nibbled on his lips. His nose crinkled in dissatisfaction. 

“We planned to reveal ourselves when Hawk Moth’s gone and defeated . . . “ 

“How noble.” Alya snorted.

Before Alya could ask anything else, Adrien beat her to the punch. His voice filled the air as cars in the background beeped at each other at the late ride home or to work. 

“My turn with this interrogation.” Moving his face a little closer, Adrien Unaware-of-Boundaries-Because-He-Was-Locked-In-A-House-His-Whole-Life Agreste frowned.

 “What do you mean by ‘I knew it” and how does Marinette think- wait, does she know that you’re Rena? Alya did you-” 

Alya pushed Adrien a step off before rolling her eyes. 

  “Of course not!” She scoffed. 

“I tell Mari everything, but - But Ladybug trusted me with the miraculous and I kept my secret and promise  to her.” Twisting her leg in anxiousness before quickly commenting, “ Well it was a secret before THIS happened.” 

----

~Study Session at the Library. Be here by 2

~Same table as always

Adrien clicked on the message, typing out a quick response and a time change. Sweeping his hair back, happy with what he wrote after rewriting twice and finally pressing send. 

-2:15, but I’m still in the locker room. I’m there by 2:30, tops. 

Alya hummed as she saw the little dots on Nino’s phone before disappearing again and then reappearing with a new message. Huffing through her nose before typing a response back. 

~It’s due this week and we are out by 3:45. 

Adrien pulled his clothes from his locker before hearing the soft buzz of his phone in his gym bag. Groaning in defeat before typing out a dull reply. 

-K. 

---

Peeling another sticky note to add to the right corner of the book, not before uncapping her thin felt-tipped marker as Marinette scribbled a slanted question. Looping her y’s and not paying attention to the clicks towards the table since it could just be Rose asking for another pen from Alya. However, a chair scraped across the wooden floor and a gym bag thumped on the ground which sent vibrations up the table. Making her jump, pulling back her hand before she accidentally drew a huge line down the page of her textbook. 

“Thanks for organizing this session, Alya. I’m glad that we managed to meet up even with my schedule.” 

Marinette continued to scribble in her sticky notes. Her handwriting got sloppier as she wrote faster. Her anxiousness escaped from her in her blush and in her quick penmanship. Exhaling sharply, catching Nino’s attention only to lose it as his dirt-colored eyes noticed his best friend. Tugging his headphones off his ears. 

“Dude, nice to see you finally make it to one of our ‘nerd meetings’.” 

“Hard with my Father and all my tutors back home. Are you gonna finally let me play Mega Strike on your phone or wait until your phone is at 5 percent like last time?” 

“Adrien, it was one time!” 

“SHH!” the librarian hushed. Quieting the boys and they slowly mellowed in their chairs. The librarian broke his stare and returned back to the paperwork on his desk. The boys broke their silence and the tension in the table as they couldn’t help the chuckles that came up their lips when they looked at each other. Bring back that light environment when the boys nudged each other playfully. Chuckling under their breath as Adrien set his pens and books out from his school bag. 

Marinette tried her best to keep her eyes on her paper. She can’t be blushing and rambling like she always did. But God, this was gonna be so hard to do since old habits die hard. As hard as she gripped her pen while she carved the words on her notebook page. The music in her earbuds crashed with her emotions. The lofi beats weren’t calming her; it just made her feel like she was on the wrong station. Debating to switch her playlist to something quicker and louder to make her concentrate on her work and not on something more captivating. . .

WAIT,,, NO!!!! BAD MARINETTE! Don’t think that- he is just a friend!!

 Pushing her earbuds in her ear deeper in hopes to drown out his laughter. Her finger swiped across stations and then deciding on to Jagged Stone’s new single. Killing the urge to stare at the model or steal looks at him, but surely looking at him couldn’t hurt-

GOD! WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS!? 

They’re just friends. And “just friends” doesn’t mean that you should stare at each other’s eyes. “Just Friends” means just friends especially when one of the friends looks like a certain blond and is potentially dating someone else-

A pink pen rolled over her notebook. 

Is that- a Ladybug pen?  

Marinette tugged on the wires of her earbuds, letting them fall off her ears and pausing the first verse of Jagged’s song. 

“Ah-could you guys pass me my supplies?”

Marinette’s blue eyes finally did the thing she prayed she wouldn’t do. 

She looked up. 

There, Adrien rushed to pick up his pens, pencils, markers, and highlighters as they rolled off the table. Nino was already crouching down, grabbing the ones that fell under his chair’s legs while Alya picked up the ones that came her way. 

“I didn’t know they sold ladybug stationery?” The lady-blogger grinned, twirling the pen between her painted nails. Wiggling her eyebrows at the flustered blond who try to brush off her looks with an eye roll. Hoping that if he ignores the blush that came up his face, they won’t comment on it. 

“It was in a pack, Alya.” Adrien bit his lip, reaching over to snatching the pen back from Alya. Only to miss her hand completely as she pulled back her arm in the last second. Teasing Adrien with the pen, holding it out of his grasp. Tossing it to Nino when his fingers reached a little too close to the pen. The boys rough-house a minute before earning themselves another scorning from the librarian. 

Over the last two years of going to public school compared to the first day he tried to sneak through the front gates, Adrien Agreste would have died on the spot if he got scorned by an authority figure other than his caregiver, well ‘care’-givers, at Françoise Dupont High School - but with time, Adrien Agreste mellowed into the new role of Adrien, the student. 

Just the student. 

 A different persona from the one that lived at home and bloom when entering school grounds. Adrien would say that he’s more care-free and open than before as he learned how to sneak out and what buttons to press when joking with his closest friends. Like how Nino always fell for the “What’s that?” trick- no matter what or how Kagami liked puns even if she frowned or how Marinette would shot a sarcastic remark if given the chance (so Adrien tried his best to set the joke to hear Mari’s slick comments which often ending with an innocent smile before walking away). 

So it wasn’t unusual for Adrien to act like this, like a teenager and not some super famous model. Just a student who was currently blushing in embarrassment due to his Ladybug stationary. 

“They’re nice.” 

The study group turned to the peep in the corner. Marinette swiped her thumb over the magical ladybug clip on the pen.

 It felt heavy and good in her hand, it had nice weigh to it. All with a slick design that didn’t seem cheesy or cheap. It’s hard to make polka-dots work nicely, but who would know right? 

 “I’m more of Chat Noir fan though.” A small smile slipped out as she spun the pen in her hand one last time. Her face softens as she thought about her partner and how cute it would be to have his cartoon face on sticky notes if it didn’t add to his ego.  Marinette finally passed the pen to Adrien who unconsciously held out his hand when her hand went out to him. 

“Cool,” Adrien answered. Not knowing what to say without giving himself away or boasting about the Miraculous Duo without sounding stiff or awkward. 

That little moment was gone as a voice cleared the air. 

“So you’re a cat stan now?”

-------

“I didn’t know you dig that type of leather, Mari?” Alya purred as she grinned a little too hard as her joke, causing her cheeks to squish the edge of her amber-colored iris. Narrowing her four eyes at her clueless friend. 

“I’m not- why are you making it sound so weird?!” 

“I’m not!” 

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Marinette rolled her eyes before shaking her head. Quickly stepping down the stairs with the reporter on her heels. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, reminding herself to trim them when she gets home or when she’s free by this weekend. 

“And-stop looking at me like that, Alya!” 

“I wasn-” 

“I can feel your laser vision from here.” 

“Okay, fine! I give, Mari. I can’t lie to you no more.” Throwing her arms around the designer’s neck and tugging her near. Marinette pulled her legs under her before she choked herself with Alya’s hold. 

“The truth is- I’m setting you up with a superhero, but can’t unless I absolutely know that you’re into them.” 

“. . . .what?” 

-------

[violethowler]

A Farewell To The Clone Wars

Yesterday was the end of an era

After 11 years and 104 days

After a theatrical movie, a novel, a comic miniseries, 8 incomplete story reels, and 133 episodes

After 49 hours and 12 minutes of incredible, heartbreaking, beautifully animated television….

Ended, The Clone Wars have.

I watched all of the existing Star Wars movies on DVD when I was a kid, but I was never particularly enamored with them the way that others are. And then in August 2008, I went to the local movie theater with my grandmother to see an animated movie that – while I didn’t know it at the time – would chart the course of my future for years to come.

While a lot of the general Star Wars fandom looks down on the theatrical Clone Wars movie as weak and lackluster, 11-year-old me loved every minute of it. I’ve been obsessed with animation my entire life, and around 2 years before the theatrical release of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I had just begun to explore the world of animation outside of my childhood Disney bubble, diving headfirst into SpongeBob and Avatar and Codename Kids Next Door. Whenever I saw commercials for an animated movie playing in theaters I would beg my family to take me to see it. It didn’t matter what the movie was actually about, all that mattered was that it was animated and I thought it looked fun.

So, when I saw Star Wars: The Clone Wars in theaters with my sister and my grandmother, I loved it. I enjoyed the movie so much that when I learned there was going to be a TV show following the movie, I was ecstatic. From the moment that the first episodes of Season 1 aired on Cartoon Network a few months later, I was hooked. From the very beginning I refused to miss a single episode. From middle school all the way through high school The Clone Wars became the axis around which almost all of my entertainment consumption revolved.

I started reading more Star Wars books and comics from all over the timeline. The Thrawn trilogy. Darth Bane. Fate of the Jedi. The Old Republic. Lost Tribe of the Sith. I devoured every piece of Star Wars media I could find as this show awakened in me an appetite for all things Star Wars. Whenever my parents asked for gift ideas for my birthday or Christmas, at the top of my list would be the latest season of The Clone Wars on DVD. Every summer I trawled the internet looking for news from Star Wars Celebration or San Diego Comic Con about the next season – trailers, clips, plot details, whatever I could find.

When the show was initially cancelled following the purchase of Lucasfilm by Disney, I was devastated. This show had such a staple of my life that the idea that it wasn’t going to be coming back hurt. As I started looking around at online Star Wars fandom to find someone, anyone, who felt the same way that I did, I discovered #SaveTheCloneWars, and joined the campaign. Through that first year after the plug was pulled, I wrote to Disney asking them to continue the show. I signed fan petitions and made posts on Facebook. It was my first real engagement with the wider online fandom.

Then came The Lost Missions and the Clone Wars Legacy releases – Crystal Crisis, Son of Dathomir, Dark Disciple… Having more Clone Wars stories helped soften the pain of the show’s loss, but the story still felt incomplete. Hearing about future arcs that had been planned for the show only added to the sense of incompleteness, knowing that there were more stories we didn’t get to see. When rumors had begun circulating about an animated Star Wars show set post-Clone Wars, resolving unanswered questions of The Clone Wars was at the top of my wish list for a future Star Wars show.

When Rebels was announced I was cautiously optimistic. I didn’t want to get attached to a new set of characters when the loss of Ahsoka and Rex and my other Clone Wars favorites still felt so raw. After Dave Filoni and the production crew of Rebels posted videos introducing the crew of the Ghost and the core cast of Rebels I reluctantly became more interested, I still was cautious about investing my time in this new show out of fear that it too would be ripped away from me without a proper conclusion just like The Clone Wars was.

So, when the final episode of Rebels’ first season confirmed that the mysterious Fulcrum was none other than Ahsoka Tano I was out of my seat cheering. There were still questions I needed answered about what happened to her after she left the Jedi Order, but the fact that she was there, back on my TV screen once more, was a relief. And when I watched the first trailer for Season 2 a month later, the words “My name is Rex,” made me scream and cry. I was overcome with tears of joy knowing that not only would my favorite Jedi be appearing in Rebels but my favorite Clone Trooper as well.

By the time Rebels’ first season had ended, I was getting ready to graduate from high school and planning where I would go to college in the fall. Taking art electives in high school, particularly a computer art class during the airing of Season 5, made me appreciate just how beautiful the show’s art style was, and when the time came for me to plan where I wanted to go to college, I chose schools that had programs for animation. I had originally wanted to be a game designer because of Kingdom Hearts, but The Clone Wars made me realize that the passion I truly wanted to make a career out of was animation.

I continued to follow Rebels as I went off to college, and by the end of Season 3 – with Maul dead for good, Ahsoka MIA, and Rex and Hondo as the only major Clone Wars characters left on the show – I had gotten attached to the Rebels characters as well. I was just as invested in their fates as I was for those of Clone Wars characters like Rex and Hondo. Season 4 finished airing at the end of my junior year, and the knowledge in the final five episodes that Ahsoka had not only survived her confrontation with Anakin at the end of Season 2 but that she was still alive years after the events of the original trilogy had me crying tears of joy as I went to sleep.

The trailer announcing the return of The Clone Wars had me in tears for hours. Long had I been dreaming of the remaining stories of this show being released in some form. I would have been content with more novels and comics like Son of Dathomir and Dark Disciple, but to have the show return in animated form was a miracle I had given up hope for years ago.

But within the last twelve months, my interest in Star Wars cooled.

I was never the biggest fan of the movies. Revenge of the Sith was my favorite because in the absence of a proper conclusion it functioned as a de facto finale to The Clone Wars. I enjoyed the original trilogy, but they weren’t movies I considered my favorites. I saw The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi in theaters and cried on my first viewing of both films, but on repeat viewings the magic of them faded and I lost interest. While I could understand why other fans liked them, there was a spark that was missing from most of the movies released under Disney that prevented them from really having any staying power for me.

And then The Rise of Skywalker came out and completely shattered any expectations I had that Disney really knew what they were doing with the franchise. Where before I was willing to trust that there actually was a plan because of how precisely Rey and Ben Solo’s arc followed the path of the Heroine’s Journey across The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, now I realize that what I initially believed to have been a carefully planned narrative arc was most likely JJ Abrams planning to set up a conventional Hero’s Journey which Rian Johnson used to try and tell a Heroine’s Journey instead. And even if there was a plan for Rey and Ben Solo that got screwed around by behind the scenes conflicts, there was clearly no plan as far as Poe and Finn and Rose were concerned.

For months after this, I started questioning and doubting my love of all the canon Star Wars media. How could I enjoy anything in the Original and Prequel trilogy eras knowing that all the hard work of dismantling Palpatine’s empire would be undone in order to rehash the same plotline with new characters and no concern given for whether the audience could follow what was happening or why these events and character decisions mattered if they hadn’t read every comic and novel and played every video game connected to this era.

Since the last trailer for the final season of The Clone Wars went up on YouTube, I vacillated between enthusiastically sticking to the shows I loved regardless of my problems with the film saga, and abandoning the franchise altogether and gifting my Clone Wars and Rebels Blu-Ray sets and associated novels to my college friend who had just gotten into Star Wars.

And then ‘The Phantom Apprentice’ Happened.

Ahsoka and Maul’s two-part duel in the throne room and the rafters of Sundari reminded me of everything I loved about The Clone Wars in the first place. The animation. The art style. The music. The attention to detail on every character and in every detail. The tragedy of what was to come. On my third re-watch of the third-to-last episode of Season 7, that was when I realized that despite my problems with the Sequel Trilogy, despite the many flaws in the writing of the Prequel movies, I could never give up on The Clone Wars, or on Rebels. These two shows have meant too much for me to ever walk away from either of them.

I have cried at least ten times in the last five days watching the final two episodes of The Clone Wars. The final of this incredible series was such a gut punch even though I knew what was coming and who would survive. I had and saw so many ideas about what the last episode would include. Would their be a montage of all the Jedi who survived Order 66 as a mirror of the death montage in Episode III? Would Ahsoka and Rex receive Obi-Wan’s recorded message from Rebels warning surviving Jedi to stay away from the temple?

But in the end, none of those things happened. The focus of the episode remained on Ahsoka and Rex. Their escape from the ship. The tragedy of their inability to save the other clones. And ending with a shot of Vader finding the ship some time later, all these symbols of the Republic buried beneath the winds of time as the empire rises. It was bleak and depressing and when the credits rolled I was holding back tears. But looking back on the entire series and the era of the war, knowing what was coming, there was no other way I could have expected it to end. The audience already knows that this is not the end, but Ahsoka and Rex don’t know that, and so the finale of The Clone Wars reflects this. The pain and despair. The tragedy and confusion over what will happen next. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite all the movies I’ve watched; the comics and novels I’ve read; the video games I’ve played; very few things in Star Wars canon or Legends have been able to match the magic of The Clone Wars in my heart. I have never truly been a Star Wars fan so much as I have been a Clone Wars and Rebels fan. The novels and comics and movies I enjoy are an extension of my love for the shows, but the shows will always come first. The characters these shows introduced have stuck with me more than any characters from the movies ever has. Clone Wars made me love Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padme and Yoda, but to me, my Star Wars favorites have always been Ahsoka, Maul, Rex, Ventress, Fives, Hera, Zeb, Thrawn, Sabine, and all the rest.

So, I just wanted to say thank you to Dave Filoni, Ashley Eckstein, Matt Lanter, Catherine Taber, James Arnold Taylor, Sam Whitwer, Nika Futterman, Dee Bradley Baker, as well as every single person involved in bringing this show to live for all the hard work and passion you have poured into this series. Your work on this show shaped the person I am today, and I look forward to seeing what you do next.

May the Force Be With You.

[tiredoffeelinglost-writes-shit]

Bane x Reader fic I will name when I think of one (pt. 1?)

Pairing: Bane x Reader

Word count: 2,338

Warnings: mentions of animal abuse, horribly inaccurate descriptions about canine first-aid

A/n: This was something I had rattling around in my head based on @glycerineclown‘s Operation Spot on AO3. I might post this on AO3 but idk yet. I don’t have any concrete ideas about where it’s going but, hey, it’s going. As always, unbeta’d and feedback is appreciated. 

You knew that you shouldn’t have been out alone that late but this time, it was unavoidable. You had agreed to cover a shift for your coworker which resulted in you working 12 straight hours. Now, you knew that may not sound like a lot for some people and it wasn’t like you were a nurse or anything but 12 hours on your feet, dealing with drunk and unruly bar patrons still made you feel dead on your feet. 

Turning the last corner, your eyes found a group of people – teenagers, judging by the look of them – beating and kicking something at their feet.

Thinking quickly, you slipped back around the corner and pulled out your phone. A quick YouTube search later and you pressed play.

Police sirens started blaring from your phone speakers. All at once, the group froze, heads whipping around, then took off and left whatever it was on the ground. 

You crept closer, unsure if you were more afraid of the group coming back or of the thing on the ground. You decided the thing on the ground was probably a more pressing issue when it started moving. 

The immediate flash of fear fought to override your concern but, when you saw it was actually a dog, you pressed on. 

The dog looked like it had seen better days. He had a stocky body riddled with dozens of scars and a face marred with even more. His coat was white, save for a strange looking patch of black. It stretched over his muzzle, up between his eyes and ears, before wrapping around the back of his head, and connecting back to the color at his mouth.

His side was smeared with a brown stain that you assumed would be red in the light and there was something wrapped around his muzzle.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. 

The dog growled, scarred muzzle pulling and bunching into as much of a snarl as possible with the binding. Upon closer inspection, you could see it was actually a length of wire twisted and tied. 

He kept glancing back at you as he limped into the shadows of a nearby alley and, against your better judgement, you followed. You turned on your phone’s flashlight and followed the blood drops until you found him, huddled beside a dumpster. 

He just stared at you as you got down to his level. Slowly, carefully, as to not scare him, you reached a hand to the wire around his muzzle. You swore under your breath at how tight it was. 

“Okay, buddy,” you whispered, “I have to get this off but you aren’t gonna like it.” You stroked a thumb over the fur just beside the wire wrapping. Keeping your movements slow and deliberate, you reached into your bag and pulled out your pocket knife. The dog started growling at the sight of the blade and tried to pull away.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re okay.” You kept your tone light. Your puppy voice, unused after not having a dog for so long, slipped through. “Okay, hold still.” As quickly as possible, you wedged a finger under a piece of the wire, not wanting to risk nicking the dog, and slipped the blade in next to your finger before slicing through the wire. All while saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over like a prayer.

As you worked, the dog sat still as a statue. It wasn’t until the wire was off that he finally moved, trying to jump away but his leg gave out beneath him.

“Whoa, whoa.” You reached for him but he growled and snapped at you. You snatched your hand back. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

There was a stare down in the alley for what felt like forever. You broke the silence.

“You know, if you don’t bite me, I can help you.”

The dog huffed.

“Come on, let’s go get you patched up,” you coaxed, holding out your hand and gesturing to the mouth of the alley with your chin, “I’m only one more block up.” You patted your leg and gestured to the alley’s end again. 

He sat there, staring at you and seemed to be considering actually following you. Finally, he heaved himself up and followed you out.

It was slow going, him limping next to you and leaning heavily into your leg, but you eventually came to the stairs of your brownstone. With a defeated groan, he collapsed, breathing sharp and unsteady.

You rushed to unlock your door and came back down to crouch beside him.

“I’ve gotta get you inside, buddy, but it’s gonna hurt and I’m really sorry.” You spoke calmly and quietly, hoping to be reassuring as you stripped your jacket off and laid it over him. “Please, don’t bite me,” you whispered before sliding your arms underneath him. “One, two, three.” On three, you rose to your feet and cradled him to your chest. “Oof. You’re heavier than you look, buddy.”

The dog huffed but didn’t growl or snap at you.

You managed to make it up the stairs and inside without incident, kicking the door shut behind you. “Remind me to lock that.”

The dog huffed once more.

Reaching your bathroom, you placed him gently down in the bathtub. 

The first aid kit from under the sink and a couple handfuls of towels and rags ended up of the floor and toilet before you took your jacket off of him. 

“I’m gonna need to clean at least some of the blood off so I can actually see what I’m working with,” you mumbled.

You ran a washcloth under warm water and began cleaning him, rinsing the cloth periodically and continuing your process until you could see the extent of his injuries. Several cuts along his side, two close to his neck, and one on his hip leading down his hind leg. 

“Oh my God,” you breathed, “What happened to you?” Tears sprang to your eyes but you forced yourself not to let them fall. You had work to do. “Alright, buddy, here we go.”

You braced yourself when you began the first stitch but the dog didn’t so much as flinch when the needle entered his skin. Letting the tension out of your shoulders, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Two more stitches without a peep and you paused you hadn’t realized that your hands were shaking until you almost dropped the needle out of your blood-slick fingers. 

“Come on, get it together,” you coached yourself. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you steeled your nerves and soldiered on. The wounds by his neck were tricky but he never moved. The injuries along his side were minor so you bandaged them as best as you could – considering your bandages were meant for people – and moved on to the last one.

The cut on his hip was the worst. At this point, your wet hands were shaking so bad that you were lucky to keep any hold on the small needle but you forced yourself to take your time and concentrate. 

After what felt like hours, you were finished and he looked down at his hip, as if inspecting your work. He tried to crane and twist to sniff at it but you stopped him.

“You’ve gotta leave that alone so it can heal.”

The dog seemed to grumble at that but he left the stitches alone all the same and, instead, sat staring at you. In fact, he had been staring at you since you found him. He looked wary. Almost nervous. It was like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you held out your hand to him but didn’t touch him again. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I thought we’d established that by now.”

His eyes didn’t even move to your hand, staring hard at your face. Sighing, you lowered your hand and got to your feet. 

The quiet of the bathroom was broken by your rumbling stomach. He tilted his head at the noise. Trying to remember the last time you’d eaten, you wondered how long it had been since the dog had eaten anything decent. 

“You hungry?”

At the prospect of food, his ears perked up and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the excited look on his face.

“I don’t have any actual dog food but I’m sure that I can find you something that you’ll like and won’t make you sick.” 

He stood up and looked like he was about to jump over the lip of the tub.

“Wait!”

He stopped with a paw on the edge, eyes looking up at you again. 

“Don’t fuck up your stitches, genius. Take is easy. Go slow.” Slow and easy were things that your past dogs knew and you hoped that this one understood them too.

Thankfully, he slowly – albeit a bit awkwardly – climbed out of the tub rather than jump. 

“Good boy.”

At those two words, his head snapped to you and he stopped in his tracks. The look in his eyes seemed like a mix between surprise and confusion. Almost as if he didn’t understand the words. Like no one had given him such praise before. You wanted to wrap him in blankets and protect him but, at the same time, you felt like you had broken some fragile bubble that had formed around the two of you and hoped, desperately, that you could repair it.

Cautiously, you stepped forward and ran light fingers over his head. He eyes closed and the thready whine he let out squeezed your heart. The heart that was suddenly caught in your throat.

“Come on,” you whispered, once again willing yourself not to let your emotions get the best of you. “Let’s go get some food, yeah?”

The almost-tail-wag you got in return kept a smile on your face all the way to the kitchen.

You grabbed a container of cooked chicken and vegetables out of the fridge for your companion. It wasn’t much but it was one of the few easy, dog-friendly foods you had in the house. A different container of leftover stir-fry was set to be your dinner once you made sure the dog was fed. 

It didn’t take long and, within minutes, his gaze was flicking between you and the bowl of food.

“Go ahead,” you nodded with a small smile, “It’s okay.”

Only after you had dug into your own food did the dog take a tentative bite. Apparently coming to the conclusion that it was actually good and not poisoned or anything, he practically inhaled the rest of it.

When he looked up from licking the bowl clean, you were paused with a fork midway to your mouth. A sound, suspiciously resembling a burp, rumbled out of his chest and he seemed surprised by it, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. You couldn’t help but snort and you finished eating. 

With your dishes clean and drying, you moved into the living room. The dog followed like your shadow.

You patted the couch next to you. “You can come up here if you be careful.” Instead, he stretched out on the floor near for feet. “Or, that works too.”

Now that you were finally sitting down, you realized how tired you were, limbs and eyes heavy.

“In about an hour, I’ll check on those stitches,” you struggled to get out around a yawn. But, “about an hour” turned into a couple hours of napping and you didn’t realize you’d forgotten to lock the door until it was too late.

The men moved in silence and you woke with a hand over your mouth and a knife at your neck. Your canine companion was in the middle of the floor growling and eyes flicking from the man with the knife to something you couldn’t see.

“Why are you just standing there?” the man behind you yelled. “Grab him! Grab Bane!” Another man in a ski mask lunged at the dog. The responding snarl and gnashing teeth had him stumbling back and staying there, frozen to the floor, looking warily at the first man. The dog’s piercing eyes turned toward you. Specifically, behind you – at the man with the knife. 

He stalked forward, there was no other way to describe it. His steps were deliberate and slow, as if giving his prey time to run. Scarred lips pulled back over gleaming teeth. Gleaming, sharp teeth that a vicious growl broke through. He was terrifying. He let out a sharp bark like a warning. Both men jerked, the knife at your neck falling away. 

The dog jumped onto the couch and stood over you. The men looked from you and the dog to each other and back. Your guardian barked again and again before launching himself at the men, causing them to fall over themselves in their rush back out the door.

You sat, frozen, on the couch, sleep-addled brain whirring to make sense of what just happened. The couch dipped beside you as the dog hopped back up. When you turned your gaze to him, he lowered his head and flattened his ears. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his nose to the spot on your neck where the knife had almost broken skin.

“I’m okay.” Your voice shook. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself, happy when your voice came out a little more normal. After a few deep breaths, you spoke again. “They were looking for you.” His eerily unwavering gaze met yours again. “Is that your name? Bane?”

You lifted a hand and brought it up to his face but he ducked away and jumped to the floor. With a final look at you, he ran out the still-open door. You practically fell off the couch in an attempt to follow him but, by the time you stepped out onto your cold front steps, he was lost to the night’s shadows. 

“What the hell?”

Tags: @scuzmunkie

[essiefreds]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18,  Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22

Word Count: 2687

Tagged: @hotemotionalmess, @hufflepeople, @justtolkienabout, @uservalkyrie, @writing-for-a-chance

Within the next week, you and Tony Stark had worked together, along with lawyers from both Stark Industries and SHIELD, to craft a contract about the use of the Iron Man suit for the Avengers Initiative. You’d done everything you could to suit the needs of both Stark and SHIELD, although in the end, the contract did lean more in favor of Tony. The bare bones were that the suit would only be involved in any necessary work if Tony was also involved. In return, Tony would fund the Initiative, if it ever got off the ground, which he seemed to doubt.

Of course, you didn’t really care what Stark thought, because you’d actually succeeded in completing your task. It was a major feat, considering that you’d managed to create a mutually beneficial bond between Stark Industries and SHIELD. SHIELD itself would not have its official name listed on any documents, since it was a shadow organization. Stark Industries would, most likely, take the credit if anything were to ever come out of the Avengers Initiative.

It seemed like a win-win. SHIELD remained underground, and S.I. was yet again climbing the ladder to world domination, although it would not be able to reach the top without SHIELD’s say-so.

Needless to say, you thought you’d well earned the bonus that was attached to your paycheck the following week, as well as the small celebration that was held in your office. There was champagne and cake involved. You couldn’t remember most of it.

With Stark behind you, your plate was completely empty, just waiting for another mission.

Oddly enough, when you walked into your office the Monday after the final version of the contract had been emailed both to Stark and Director Fury, the only thing that sat on your desk that hadn’t been there two nights before was an Edible Arrangement.

You blinked at the assortment of fresh fruit, some of which was coated in chocolate. It was all organized to look like a beautiful exotic flower.

Confused, and rightly so, you poked your head out of the office, and called to the first person you saw, “Did you see this get delivered?”

“Oh, yeah,” the intern replied. “The delivery guy asked if it was okay to leave it for you, because he had another one to get done within the hour. I said it was fine, because you were getting here soon.”

“Huh,” you said, and you turned around to face the fruit again. Slowly, you approached it, not completely past the idea that maybe there was a bomb hidden inside of the arrangement.

There was no bomb, but there was a card, nestled between a chocolate covered strawberry and a piece of kiwi. Carefully, so that you didn’t touch any of the fruit, you pulled the card free, and opened it.

The message on the inside was simple: I didn’t know what your favorite flower was. Congratulations on the contract with Stark.

You folded the small piece of letterstock back over, and tapped it against your desk, eyeing the fruit. After a moment of consideration, you picked up a piece of pineapple, and bit into it. Why pass up free, fresh fruit, especially when it looked so delicious?

Whistling caught your attention, and you turned your head as Phil Coulson passed by your office. His whistling stopped when he glanced sideways into it, and then he stopped as well, opening the door a bit wider.

“Whoo,” he said, entering the office and picking out a piece of fruit for himself. “Where’d this come from?”

“No idea,” you replied, handing him the card. He read through it, expression thoughtful, and then he shrugged, passing it back over.

“Guess you got something to do today,” he said. He snagged a chocolate covered strawberry and another piece of kiwi, and left.

“Guess I do,” you murmured in agreement, finishing your piece of pineapple, and choosing a strawberry of your own.

You first went down to IT, so that you could do a background search on any orders that might have been placed from SHIELD’s database to Edible Arrangements. There was one, back from the day after you’d finished finalizing the contract, when it had been made official that you’d managed to snag a deal with Stark Industries. No one, aside from a few choice agents, knew about that deal, which narrowed down who could have possibly been the one to send the arrangement.

So, because you did not know any better way to do it, you went and paid all those agents a visit, to ask them about it. Unfortunately, either one of them was a really good liar, or they were all telling the truth, because none of them seemed to have any idea where the arrangement had come from.

That narrowed it down further. Aside from those agents, there was Deputy Director Hill, and Director Fury. Hill had already established her congratulations by providing the cake at the party, and you did not think Director Fury would have sent you fruit.

Besides that, he knew what your favorite flower was. When your father had died, you’d received an arrangement of daisies from him.

In conclusion, you had no idea who the benefactor of your fruit was. And that annoyed you immensely, no matter how delicious it tasted.

With the help of everyone on the same floor as you, the majority of the arrangement was gone by the end of the day. Only a few straggling pieces of fruit remained, and none of them had chocolate coating.

You poked at what was left, finding that you were pretty tired of fruit. After not learning who had ordered it, and after eating it all day, you had little desire to finish the last couple pieces. Still, you did not want to just throw it away; it was fresh fruit.

So, instead, you finagled Coulson out of one of the many tupperwares he kept in his desk, and returned to your office to pack away the rest of the fruit, so that you could eat it as the week progressed. As you pulled the sticks the fruit were stuck on out of the styrofoam on the bottom of the arrangement, you noticed that there was something hidden behind them, as though it had been left there to be found once the entire arrangement was gone.

As though whoever had ordered it had known you wouldn’t throw it away with pieces of fruit still remaining.

Quickly, you finished pulling the rest of the fruit off of the arrangement to reveal whatever it was that they were hiding. You saw what it was before you’d gotten all of the pieces off, and you sighed to yourself. How did I not realize it before?

Hidden behind all of the fruit was a single sprig of lavender, stuck upright from the Styrofoam. It was wilted, a bit, from having sat behind fruit for hours, but the purple of the blossoms was still vibrant. When you pulled it out, and held it to your nose, the scent of the lavender filled your senses, even without you having to inhale.

“Steve Rogers,” you said under your breath, and then you chuckled to yourself, eyeing the lavender. He was… something.

You placed the tupperware of fruit into the small fridge in the break room on your floor, and then you hesitated, glancing between the elevators and your office. You did not think it was a good idea, to go up and see him, but he’d sent you an Edible Arrangement. Those things were fucking expensive, and you honestly had no idea where he’d gotten the money for it.

You had no idea how he knew about the deal with Stark, either, although you had some guesses.

“Just go see him.”

You glanced in the direction of the voice, and found Coulson leaning against a nearby wall, an open file folder in his hands.

“You knew?” you demanded of him, and he lifted his shoulders.

“He came down and asked if I knew what your favorite flower was. Apparently, Fury wouldn’t tell him,” he explained. “I told him, “I don’t have any idea, Cap, but you know what everybody likes? Chocolate covered fruit.” I guess he took it to heart.”

“And you didn’t tell me it was him because…?”

“Because he asked me not to, said you’d figure it out eventually.” He gestured to the sprig of lavender, which you still had in your hand. “Looks like he left you a clue.”

You exhaled a slow breath. “Coulson, I’m trying to distance myself from him,” you said. “I did a terrible job of helping him figure out the 21st century, and I don’t want to… be involved in his life, anymore.” You waved the sprig of lavender through the air. “This is the complete opposite of not being involved. He’s spending money he probably doesn’t have on thirty five dollar fruit arrangements!”

“Let him,” Coulson said, glancing down at his folder again. “It was really good.”

You decided that Coulson had no idea of the gravity of the situation, and that it was time to stop talking to him. “I’m walking away, now,” you said, and turned to do so.

“He just wants to speak to you, Y/LN,” Coulson said from behind you as you headed in the direction of your office. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

He’ll tell me that he’s not in love with me, you thought.

You did not offer a response out loud.

You knew you could not allow the topic of the Edible Arrangement to sit forever. He must have known that you’d found the lavender behind all the fruit, and he must have known that from it, you’d realized it was him, which meant he also knew that you had not immediately sought him out.

You did not know what you would say to him. Thanks for the Edible Arrangement. Sorry I walked out of your life because I was worried I was ruining you. I’m also sorry that I’ve been watching the surveillance footage of your apartment to make sure that you’re doing okay, because for some reason I can’t let you go.

No. That wouldn’t go down well, not for you or for him.

So, you did not think about it for as long as possible, which was about a day. The leftover fruit had disappeared from the break room fridge, which was a relief, because at least someone was going to eat it. You tried to ignore the lavender sprig, which you’d stuck inside a vase on the corner of your desk. You hadn’t wanted to throw it away, because you thought that would be a little too heartless, but you hadn’t known what else to do with it. Apparently, you were going to watch it shrivel up and die.

Unfortunately, you still did not have any new work to bury yourself in. You wondered if that was the direct cause of Fury trying to force you to take Rogers back. If so, it was stupid and childish, and if you’d been a little more willing to stand up to him, you would march up to his office, and tell him off. However, you were a frightened five-year-old at heart, and you remained  in your office instead, silently glaring at an uncomposed email screen to his email address.

You almost broke and went up to Steve’s apartment around midday, strictly because of how bored out of your mind you were. If nothing else, he would at least be a form of entertainment; the two of you had had some meaningful conversations during the months you’d worked with him. If there was anything about that task that you missed, it was those conversations.

You also missed how he approached every new topic that you brought up concerning the 21st century with curiosity. He was genuinely interested in knowing about the new world that he was in, and you appreciated his willingness to work with you. All you’d wanted was to help him learn, and he’d always been ready to be taught.

And, okay, maybe you just missed Steve. He’d grown to be a close friend, someone you’d talked to about things you wouldn’t have normally brought into conversation during work hours. He’d never once refused to laugh at a joke that you made, even when you knew that it was really bad, because he seemed to think they were all hilarious. He’d always held open doors for you, even when you’d gotten to them first; he would pick up his pace just so that he could open the door. That had to be one of the most endearing things about him.

That, and his genuinity. And his sense of purpose. And how he’d cook for you. And how he’d sit through a movie for you, even when it was obvious that he wasn’t enjoying it. And how he’d been certain to ask what your favorites were, when it came to the topics of music, and literature, things that he wanted to make sure he learned about so that you’d have things to discuss.

So, yeah. You almost broke. You almost went up to his apartment.

But you didn’t. Because that would just… make everything so much harder.

The day ended. You returned home. As usual, you ate dinner, fed the cat his dinner, remarked on how the cat had never gotten to meet Steve, tried to pay attention to a TV show and failed miserably, took a shower, and climbed into bed.

For once, you did not toss-and-turn. Apparently, a long day of pining for unfrozen super soldiers could be exhausting, because you were out almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Still, that did not stop you from waking up the moment your phone rang from its spot on the bedside table. Fumbling for it, you knocked your water off the table and spilt it across the floor. You ignored the spill in favor of answering the phone.

“Hello?”

Silence. You were wary, at first, and then realization sank in.

“Captain Rogers?”

A small chuckle made it way from SHIELD’s headquarters to your small bedroom via telephone lines. “I asked you to call me Steve.”

Exhaling, you sat up straighter in bed, pushing your hair into a less disheveled state. “Why are you calling?” you queried, doing your best to sound professional. His tone had not given you cause to panic, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned. There was obviously something going on, if he’d decided to call you after all this time.

He did not respond at first. Part of you wanted to hang up the phone, and get back to sleep, but that really wasn’t part of who you were as a person. Instead, you sat, patient as possible, waiting for him to say something.

“I just - I can’t... I want - I need…”

You listened to these false starts to a sentence that he was clearly having difficulty crafting, and then you said, “Do you need someone to come to you?”

He was silent again, although not for as long. “I need you to come to me.”

“Captain -”

“Steve,” he insisted.

“- I don’t think me coming to see you is a good idea,” you finished.

“Please, Y/N.” His voice had lowered, and there was a hint of desperation to it, now. Desperate was not a word that you would have ever stuck to Steve Rogers’s disposition. “I haven’t been able to sleep. I don’t - nothing works. I need…” He trailed off, and you waited. “I need you,” he finished. Your heart jumped up into your throat and lodged itself there. “Will you come? Please?”

You swallowed, forcing your heart back down into your chest. It was racing. For a moment, you wondered if you were at risk for cardiac arrest. You stared blankly into the darkness, listening to the two parts of yourself battle.

Eventually, however, one side won out, the side that you’d always sort of known would eventually be victorious.

“All right,” you said into your phone. “I’ll be there soon.”

[harbodouglas5-blog]

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