#first semester never seems to end ffs

[loversys-x3]

This one is going out to all my shippers still on the grind for their college degree. Your f/o will always be there to support you through your journey. They know you're tired, confused, and stressed. They'll be there to reassure you, help you study, give you little reminders, make sure you're still taking care of yourself, and especially assure you that you're loved.

[gvfmarge]

The What Ifs and Buts.

I’ve never been one to choose myself over a significant other. I’ve always seemed to want to do anything and everything they’ve wanted; I dropped out of college to move home with my ex-boyfriend ffs 🙄 it didn’t work out and I moved back to college a semester later lmao. BUT I grew from it. So, in my dreamland tonight I thought of this little Jakey blurb. Because it’s totally me and I have attachment issues. This is toxic, it has to be right? So not healthy, but it’s just a story! Oh, also, I haven’t written in a very long time, so be gentle. Y/N is wild: I am she, she is me. Here is a cheesy, dumpster fire of a story!

TW: if you squint maybe an unhealthy attachment? Anxiousness, alludes to sex.

You met Jake 8 months ago, in a random little coffee shop on the edge of town. You remember feeling so melancholy, following through with your day to day life. It was ordinary, at least it felt that way at the time. Your life was exactly how you thought it should be: you got your big girl corporate job, your big girl apartment, hell you even got a cat. You were choosing all the right paths that had been drilled into your head since middle school. Get the job, get the money, get the house, married? kids? Was that next on the list? It felt like it was supposed to be the next check mark on your to-do list, but it felt hopeless. This was what life was all about, right? Why didn’t it feel like this was supposed to be how your life would go, you ticked all the right boxes but it still just didn’t feel like enough. You were proud of how far you had come. You were the first in your family to graduate from college, to move away from your tiny town and into the big city. You had made it in the eyes of everyone back home, but you just felt like it was a never ending game of “why am I so miserable?”

You had walked into the coffee shop just after sunrise, the exact same way you had everyday for the last 6 months you’ve lived in Nashville. You ordered your coffee and bagel, the exact order you did everyday. The exact pleasing smile, exact tip for the barista, same table as usual unless someone else beat you there. You sat as you scrolled through your work emails, preparing for your day ahead. The same day you’ve had for 6 months. Sighing, you collected your bags and made your way to the trash bin by the door.

When you turned to push open the door, you were met with two hands outstretched on your shoulders. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even paying attention!” He had caught you just in time before you ran straight into his chest and presumably spilled coffee over both of you.

“No need to apologize, I’m just glad I won’t be wearing coffee this morning.” Your eyes followed along the skin of his exposed chest, focusing along the silver chains that sat against his smooth tan skin, up to the ends of his long wavy hair that laid against his broad shoulders and finally into his deep brown sparkling eyes. You were staring. You were totally staring but you couldn’t look away. Your mouth was instantly dry and any of the words that you could possibly even think to say were stuck in your throat. His eyes flicked towards his hands that were still clutching your biceps and he quickly pulled away. “So sorry about that” he quickly blurted out and shoved a hand through his hair. Time finally caught up with you, feeling like all the blood rushed back to your head at once and snapped you out of your trance.

Oh God, say something y/n, anything! You coughed, basically choked, and huffed out a laugh. You began giggling which quickly turned into a full laugh. You covered your face in your hands and finally looked back at the man who you basically just convinced you were clinically insane. Thankfully, he was laughing along with you, beaming his beautiful smile at you.

And that was that. You met for drinks the next day, had a drawer in his bathroom and clothes in his closet two weeks later, and he even bought cat food and toys the third week. It was perfectly perfect. The check box you had left empty had been marked off and your mundane days were now filled with happiness with Jake alongside you.

But, you knew the day was coming. There’s always a but, in everything that is perfect, there will always be a but. That’s just how your life was. You felt you couldn’t have one great thing without it crashing and burning sooner or later.

Jake was intertwined with you in bed, just after getting back to his house from a night out with his brothers. (Who had quickly became your brothers, just like everything in this situation had come together quickly) Your foreheads were pressed together, small pecks inbetween whispers, giggles in the dark. His fingers tracing lines up and down your bare arms. “You’ll be okay, won’t you love?” He whispered against your lips. You gave a short nod which turned into a fast shake of your head. “No, I don’t think I will be.” You were being honest. You had quickly learned that Jake’s schedule was sporadic and hectic, his life was full of chaos which was drastically different than your days full of constants and predictability. You had made it through the months just fine with the tour, a few days of him being gone here and there, it was hard but it worked. You made up for it in the time that he was home. But, he would be gone for 3 months this time. This was uncharted territory for your new relationship, that had given you a new outlook on your life. It had made the mundane more bearable and felt like your purpose in life actually made sense.

“I dont think I can do it, Jake” the tremble in your voice more noticeable than you had hoped. His thumb grazed against your cheek as he held your head in his hands. You could feel the sadness in the dark, making the air heavy and thick. “Then come with me.” It felt like you had imagined his words, you never thought he would actually ask that much of you. “What?” It came out harsher than you intended and your body tensed against chest. “I- I just thought maybe we could travel together.” He rolled onto his back and you could see his eyes staring into the ceiling above. “I wouldn’t have to worry about where you were or what you were doing and you wouldn’t have to worry about what I was doing, I don’t even know if we would be able to talk everyday if you stayed home. I mean.. it will still be hectic and busy but at least we could be together for most of it.” He swiveled his head to search for just an ounce of how you were feeling.

“What about my job, Jake?” The checklist was scrolling through your mind, reminding you of everything you thought you had accomplished and made you feel successful. “What about my life here?” You wanted to go, of course you did. How could you pass up months of traveling with the man you knew deep down was yours forever. But if he is your forever, did these next three months really matter in the grand scheme of things? You could make it and be better than ever when he got back.

“You are my life, y/n.” He whispered, the fear in his voice evident. “I love you and I never want to be away from you, I want to be with you, always.” The pure shock of his words had you gasping for air. It felt like all the air in the room had dissipated and you thought for a moment you had actually died and left your body lying right there in his bed. “You love me?” It wasn’t really a question, you had known it was him from the time you locked eyes all those months ago. “No, no wait.” You rushed out as you sat up on your knees and stared down at him, your panic had him scrambling to sit up against the headboard. Your body was working on autopilot as you crashed your lips to his in a frenzy. His hands lifted to your cheeks and he slowly pulled your face from his. “Y/n are you okay?” Through heavy breaths and blown out eyes you realized just how crazy you were acting. Always the one for dramatics, you groaned and cradled your face in your hands. “No.. yes. Yes. I’m okay. I just love you is all.” The whiplash you were giving Jake left him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he took in your theatrics. “I love you, Jake.” Is all you managed to blurt out before his lips were on yours again.

The kiss felt ravenous, like your lips on each others was the only way for you to survive. You needed him just as much as he needed you. Your chaotic mind and anxious personality evened out with his calm and collected brain, you completed each other in ways that you had never believed was possible. You had always been too much, too needy, too loud. Your mind was too cluttered for other people. But Jake loved that you overthought everything, that you worried too much about things he couldn’t care less about. Your faults were his favorite things about you, it’s what made you you and helped balance out his own personality and feelings. You were the chaos to his calm.

His hands roamed across your thighs and up your lower back until he was running his hands through your hair. He gently tugged you down onto his chest until you were straddling his lap. “Then go with me.” He whispered, finally breaking away from your kiss to connect his forehead to yours.

You paused for longer than he expected, staring into his soul through his hazelnut eyes. Once again, your mental checklist of what was “right” flashing through your mind. You swallowed roughly, trying to find the right words to say. The big red neon flashing light lighting up in your head saying JUST DO IT and out shined your stupid checklist. “Okay.” You smiled against his lips.

“Yeah?!” Jake grabbed your face with both hands, staring into your eyes searching for any type of resistance. His strength hastily flipped you off of his lap and onto your back, pushing his body between your hips. His lips devoured yours as he rutted his hips into yours. Moving his kiss across your cheek and down to your sensitive spot just under your ear. Your hands splayed across his back just as you thought through your decision. He would be with you every night, you would get to see the boys in their element, the days of traveling and eating, months full of joy and laughter.

“Wait!” You blurted out, causing Jake to almost knock you out with the force of his head shooting up to look at you, your unexpected word giving him a look of terror. “What about the cat?” You giggled when you realized you had almost caused him to have a stroke. His shoulders relaxed and his head dipped to meet with your collar bone.

“Rose loves cats.” Is all he said before he made sure the only thoughts you had were of him and the memories you would make together.

[kafka-ish]

the act of being a boy-friend | r.t.

y/n’s plan to make her crush, or ex crush, jealous backfires when she realizes she’s been the jealous one all along.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/included: fluff, losers aren’t friends anymore, fem!reader

a/n: i just rlly love writing love triangles hgeoigso also fake dating tropes ftw🥳

-

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” Bill sat next to y/n on his worn sofa. The two were watching a movie but he couldn’t put a pin on what was wrong until he noticed y/n wasn’t making her usual commentary. y/n always talked whenever they got together to watch a movie—either letting her petty remarks be known to the rest of the viewers or judging the style choice. And if she wasn’t talking, her face was stuffed full of popcorn or sour candy.

But y/n wasn’t doing either of those things.

She sat in a ball—her bare feet on his couch and her kneecaps digging into her stomach. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen ahead of them that blared ET. Her nails that were in tip-top condition when she first showed up to Bill’s house, neatly trimmed and polished with a layer of topcoat were now bitten to the bed, ragged and raw.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n said, surprised that she was able to even squeak out the words after zoning out for so long. Something was wrong. But it wasn’t like y/n would tell him. This is what she wanted, right? Just the two of them—Bill’s arm wrapped around her while she pressed into his side while the only light in the room came from his television set.

So why did everything feel so wrong?

Richie and y/n had dated two months prior. Well… ‘dated’. The relationship wasn’t real, but the butterflies whenever Richie called her a dumb pet name or kissed her on the cheek (because kissing on the lips was too far) certainly felt real. And the heartbreak that came from him talking about other girls felt more real than the time y/n got stood up at the eighth-grade dance.

“I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ boyfriend,” Richie protested. His mouth was full of the turkey club sandwich he snagged from a detention buddy and his perfectly straight nose was now scrunched in disgust at the absurd idea his friend had to offer.

“I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this.” y/n took the sandwich from him, taking a bite of her own and cringing at the taste of mustard that was hidden under the lettuce.

“Grow up.” Richie laughed at y/n who was using a napkin to wipe the tangy aftertaste off her tongue. “You know.” He took another bite. “This sorta shit never ends well.”

“What shit?” y/n prodded. She was still hooked on the idea of getting Richie to play house with her.

“The game where you and I pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and eventually one of us falls for each other.” Richie was taking an oddly rational approach to y/n’s suggestion. But Richie was logical in a sense where he just knew.

“Who says I’d fall for you?” y/n poked at his shoulder. One of her eyebrows raised because in what world would she let herself catch feelings for Richie Tozier?

In this world. In this lifetime, y/n would let herself fall for one of her best friends, only to be dating her longtime crush.

“How could you not?” Richie smirked but y/n could tell he was just joking. “I’m irresistible, love.” His stupid British-man Voice made yet another appearance and y/n had to refrain from hitting him.

“What about me?” y/n didn’t care whether or not Richie found her attractive, but to say his response never left her mind after that day would be an understatement.

“Well, just look at you.” Richie put the sandwich down. “If it’s anyone, I’ll be having a harder time.”

“So does that mean you’ll go through with it?” A new light hit y/n’s eyes; the sparkle almost blinding Richie who was shaking his head.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this.” He sighed. y/n could tell he was getting annoyed, but y/n was also persistent. If she wanted something, she’d get it; careless about the lengths she’d have to go through for her fantasies to become a truth. Her truth.

“I’m just saying there are benefits for both of us.” y/n’s head tilted to the side, trying to get a better glimpse at Richie now gnawing at his lunch like an animal.

“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.

“Yeah. I can make Bill Denbrough jealous and he’ll fall madly in love with me. Same for you and your ex.”

“Bill Denbrough?” Richie ignored the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He was fifty-percent sure he was already over her, but the other fifty percent of him still stole glances in her direction and kept a copy of her school picture in his wallet. But Bill Denbrough? y/n had a crush on the Bill Denbrough? Richie had to take a moment for his ears to adjust to this staggering news.

Bill Denbrough was a baseball player and Richie’s old childhood friend. Him, Bill, Stan Uris (who was coincidentally also on Derry’s baseball team), Mike Hanlon (who didn’t play baseball but football), Ben Hanscom (he was on the track team), Eddie Kaspbrak, and Beverly Marsh were all a group back in middle school. And Bill and Richie went way back—back to elementary school. It was until the end of freshman year when Stan tried out for baseball (Bill tagged along but made the team anyway) and Mike brought up how he wanted to go out for football next year.

Everyone’s interests started to diverge. Everyone started to diverge. They still went to Mike’s games at the beginning of their sophomore year, but their lunches together only seemed to happen on Wednesday and their afternoon hangouts at the quarry turned into just Richie smoking puffs on the edge; the only company being his portable radio.

Richie befriended y/n sophomore year, around the same time he and his friends fizzed out in January’s crisp air. He met her in his new art class when Derry High released students’ new schedules for the second semester. They’d stayed friends ever since; sharing their lunches and staying after school to finish up on a Social Studies project that wasn’t worth the grade they received. y/n was the one to comfort Richie after his breakup with Vanessa Jennings, but this was the first Richie had ever heard of y/n’s crush on Bill. He didn’t even know she knew Bill.

“You like Bill Denbrough?”

y/n nodded. “So, what do you say? Partner…”

Richie gave in. Although it wasn’t in his interest to get back with Vanessa, he’d still go along with y/n’s scheme.

He’d pick her up at her house before school at seven o’clock sharp—whether it was in his dad’s old Chevy or by foot in his red Converse.

y/n rushed to her front door as soon as she heard a ring. Her hair was half done, and she hadn’t had enough time to do her makeup yet. Luckily, she was already dressed in her school clothes—the denim of her jeans scuffing together when she walked, and her red blouse having to be pulled down every time she rose her arms.

“Morning, sugar.” Richie’s lazy grin and tired eyes never failed to bring a smile on her face even before they started ‘dating’. His hair wasn’t brushed at all, making y/n feel better about her appearance. His body leaned slanted against the doorframe while he waited for her and the white tip of his Converse made its attempt to dig into the porch.

“Sugar?” y/n asked, bemused. She grabbed her keys from the table next to the door, using them to lock the door behind her.

“You look different today.” y/n’s head raised from its once concentrated position from the lock on her door.

“Different how?” She inquired, mostly wondering if this difference was a good or bad thing.

“You look good.” y/n’s cheeks couldn’t help but heat at the compliment. Richie was always calling her cutesy names or saying shit like actually, now that my glasses are on, your ass does look good in those jeans. This should be no different, right?

It only felt different because they were… an item is what y/n convinced herself somewhere along the drive to school. Richie opened the door for her when she got in (and out), but in return, she’d have to let him play his favorite station.

“it’s only courtesy, babe.” Richie shrugged but his eyes kept on the road. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

But two weeks in, y/n found out she liked what this rock ‘n roll guy had to offer. She liked the loud beat of the drum and how the guitar sang in her ears. She liked Richie’s voice that overpowered Elvis’s when he sang along to the lyrics, knowing every word by heart.

“I don’t get why you’re taking me anywhere,” y/n said. She sat in the passenger’s seat of his car like she usually did. “We don’t have to pretend unless we’re, like, in public.” Her voice became small, almost regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Secretly, she hoped Richie wouldn’t turn the 1965 Chevrolet Camaro around.

“It’s not like we aren’t friends.” Richie’s thumb made a tap, tap, tapping sound against the steering wheel. “Friends hang out, right?”

y/n smiled but didn’t answer. It never occurred to her that they weren’t dating. After a while, it just seemed so natural; the hand holding under lunch tables; the way he held her binder for her.

“Is that heavy, sweetheart?” Richie stood next to y/n, intently watching as she struggled with her books in one arm: her other hand turning the combination lock. His gaze never left her figure. He was thoughtful, caring…

“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”

Ignoring y/n, Richie took the books from her hold. He already had books of his own to carry, but he couldn’t let his girlfriend struggle with hers.

“Yeah… friends.” y/n couldn’t seem to face him while uttering the words. Friends. The declaration felt so distant. After all, they had been more than friends—or pretending to be more than friends. But at the end of the day, y/n didn’t know if she wanted to be just friends with Richie Tozier. That was new considering, she never saw Richie as something else. Something that greeted her with flowers before school and held open the door for her. Not until now, no. Richie was always… Richie.

Richie Tozier who was always caught doing his homework last minute in art—because that’s the easiest class, babe. Richie Tozier who liked detention because he could catch up on a few extra minutes of lost beauty sleep. Richie Tozier who stopped bringing his lunch to school because you’re the only sugar I need.

y/n rolled the window down, letting a breeze sweep through her hair and tickle her skin. She needed a distraction because the recent epiphany of the boy next to her being the reason for her heart palpitations was something to need a distraction from.

The sky bled orange and purple—the colors perfectly melted into one another—and y/n wondered if this wasn’t their world after all. Maybe they were being controlled and the puppeteer behind her was playing some sick joke by making her catch feelings for Richie Tozier. y/n didn’t even notice they came to a stop until the click of Richie’s seatbelt grabbed her ears from their trance.

“You comin’?” Richie asked from outside of her side of the car. He was hunched down, his forearm resting on the door to help prop him up.

“Yeah.” y/n swallowed but it hurt. It felt like acid ripped through her esophagus but the only thing she had to drink that day was water. She reached for the door handle, but Richie was faster, already opening the door himself. “Such a gentleman,” y/n snickered.

“Of course.” Richie stayed behind to lock the doors.

“So, you drove me, just a friend, all the way out to the best milkshakes in town?” y/n asked, eyeing the neon-lit sign that read

 Hwy 90

The highway to your stomach.

They served other things, but they specialized in milkshakes—something neither Richie nor y/n would care to pass up. But nothing y/n would drive thirty minutes for just for some glorified ice cream in a glass.

“It’s the least I could do.” Richie opened the door for y/n once again. The entrance door to the diner made a jingling sound as the top corner hit the bells which hung from the ceiling.

“The least you could do?” y/n wondered aloud, but Richie wasn’t given the chance to answer her question when a waitress scurried up to them, a stack of menus in one arm and a bundle of silverware in the other. She was taller than y/n but shorter than Richie and she wore black and white bowling shoes to match the wide-legged jeans and polo underneath her apron. “Is it just you two?” She asked sweetly, hiking the pile of menus up higher on her arm.

“Yeah,” Richie said. He stuffed his hands in his back pocket, not knowing where to put them.

The waitress showed them to a small booth that sat in the corner of the brightly lit restaurant. It was too bright for y/n’s eyes under the red, blue, and pink hues that reflected across the shiny white tile, But the corner table the girl had brought them to would do. There was a certain coziness to it, or maybe it was the thought of sitting so close to Richie in a public setting that settled y/n’s eyes.

“I’m Annie. I’ll be your server today,” the girl said as soon as Richie and y/n slid into their respective sides of the red pleather seats. She was fast-talking and all shades of nervousness as her left hand went to grab the number two pencil that fastened the blonde curls that were pinned in a knot on top of her head. “Can I get you anything?”

“A menu would be nice,” y/n said. In front of them sat a table, salt and pepper shakers, and a half-empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Annie had forgotten to give the two a menu.

“My apologies!” She exclaimed, bashful. She handed them each a menu to sift through.

“Don’t sweat it.” Richie winked in her direction and y/n felt herself grow… what was that? Anger? Annie’s pale skin blushed a bright red and y/n could tell it wasn’t the apron making her feel hot.

It took Richie a full-fledged thirty seconds and two skims through the laminated paper for him to decide what he wanted, and it took y/n at least two minutes. “I’ll have a Cookies n Cream. Extra sweet.” Just like you.

y/n was biting her thumb and still reading over the same three flavors that caught her eye while Annie stood patiently waiting for her response. Richie was messing with the saltshaker. His leg found hers under the table and gave it a quick kick.

“Ouch.” She looked up from the menu, averting her attention to the boy in front of her with a fix glare. “Can I have Vanilla? With a cherry on top?”

Annie scribbled down both of their orders in messy writing before making her way across the floor and to the kitchen.

“Vanilla?” Richie laughed and y/n didn’t know what was so funny. “’Cause you’re vanilla?” He covered his mouth with his hand before another fit of laughter would consume the table.

“Shut up.” Swiftly, y/n’s leg propelled into his which caused Richie’s laughs to die down, replaced by a single yelp.

“So…” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled. His nails, which were painted a shade of deep blue by y/n and already chipped, thumped against the surface of the table. y/n could tell whatever he was beginning to suggest wouldn’t be something she liked just from the tone of his voice.

“So?”

“Why Bill?” Oh.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant.

“Why do you like ole Big Bill?” The nickname had slipped out unconsciously. The nickname Richie hadn’t heard in years. The nickname Richie hadn’t said in years. It felt exotic on his lips, but comforting, like a hug from his mom.

Why did she like Bill? y/n asked herself silently. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek when the question popped up again and the sound of Bill’s voice startled her.

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” What was wrong? Seemingly, everything was perfect. The boy y/n had been crushing on for years was finally in her reach—her grasp, even. Bill’s head turned to face y/n, but his arm stayed tightly coiled around her side. It wasn’t the same as Richie’s possessive hold from two months ago. His hand that played with the fabric of her shirt felt cold. Bill felt cold.

It couldn’t be that she missed Richie, no. Richie was busy—probably swapping spit with one Vanessa Jennings. Vanessa with the light brown hair and curls that framed her not-too-big head ever so perfectly. Vanessa who never needed a tan. Vanessa with the long legs that were probably wrapped—

But it didn’t matter. y/n was busy, too. The Bill Denbrough was at her side and she couldn’t have asked for anything else. She didn’t need anything else. Not when his red flannel hugged her torso because are you could? My parents won’t let me turn up the heat, but I can offer you this. Like a gentleman, he proceeded to strip the flannel from his bodice, leaving him in a white baseball tee.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n looked at Bill then looked down to see the nails she had just painted were now ruined. She looked up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she assured, not all convincingly.

“You just… yo-you ha-haven’t-t s-s-said anything since you cuh-cuh-walked in.”

“I haven’t?” y/n asked, now picking at the tip of her thumb, hoping what had taken two weeks to grow out would magically regrow in seconds. Saving his voice, Bill only shook his head.

“You nuh-know you can tuh-tell me. Ruh-right?” y/n nodded but what could she tell him?

Sorry I’ve been holding a massive crush on you for years like one holds a cleaver over their head but all of a sudden I’m into this guy I met in my art class who never brushes his hair and writes ‘smoking and smoking hot’ on his college resume.

“I think I’m just tired,” she lied while also feigning a yawn. She covered her mouth when it opened, pretending to be sleepy.

“Do-do you want me to tuh-take you home?” Bill asked. He was just as thoughtful as Richie. He was just as handsome as Richie, maybe even more. So why couldn’t y/n bring herself to like him as much as Richie? His arm left from her side and he used it to pick up the remote, turning the tv off. The worst part was, that when Bill’s hand stopped playing with the fabric of the flannel she wore and his arm left her frame, she didn’t feel a coldness that would usually wash over her when Richie’s arm left her. She felt free.

“I don’t want our afternoon to be spoiled,” y/n said. Her eyebrows furrowed and even though she knew she was lying through her teeth, she wanted to make this work. After all these years of pining for her study partner and favorite Derry High baseball player, she needed for this to work. To see the vision she’d created in her head, just a mere two years ago, collapse in front of her very eyes broke her. But at the same time, she was indifferent. Why should she care about the boy in front of her when the boy she actually wanted was a neighborhood away?

“Tr-trust me. It-it’s not.” Bill shrugged. He stood up and offered y/n his hand which she didn’t take. Instead, she sat there, planted in her same seat, waiting for him to continue. “I can tuh-take you home. And wuh-we can hang out to-tomorrow. You nuh-know when you’re well rested.” All of the sudden, this felt very real. Hanging out with Bill felt real. Being at his house felt real. And though his efforts were valiant, y/n couldn’t accept the offer.

A smile graced her lips and Bill mirrored that. “Yeah, okay. Uh, take me home—please.”

y/n stood up and Bill guided her to the door and to Zach Denbrough’s car as if she hadn’t had the place memorized from when she first came over for a History project they’d been assigned to do.

What did she ever see in him?

“I don’t know.” y/n’s shoulders bopped up and down and even though her figure was hunched, Richie still thought she looked graceful.

“Are you just sayin’ that or did you end up falling in love with little ole me and you can’t think of anything?” Just then, their milkshakes arrived. Both in frosted glass and both with a cherry on top. A feeling of relief swallowed the lump in her throat, or maybe that was the taste of vanilla ice cream now that she was given some time, and a reason, to stall. y/n hated how on-the-nose Richie could be. But she also loved that about him. He could be so, so unexpectedly smart about some things. Things that were right in front of her that she’d never even notice until Richie pointed it out. “Oh, come on.” Richie’s words would’ve sliced through the silence in the air if it weren’t for the chatter of other people and jukebox playing in the background. “Seriously, y/n/n, there’s gotta be something that drew you to him.”

“Well… he’s nice.”

“Okay cut the crap.”

“What?” y/n asked, finding herself annoyed that she not only had to reveal her feelings to a boy she may or may not like but also because he’s nice apparently wasn’t a sufficient enough answer.

“I need an actual answer. Not some bullshit response like he’s nice or he’s funny. Anyone can be nice or funny, y/n.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, Bill is nice. He’s genuine, and cares about the people around him… Selfless.”

Richie was upset at her response. Not because y/n countered his argument in a way he was left speechless but because she was right. Bill was the nice guy and Richie… wasn’t. Bill was the one who looked out for others, making sure they were okay. He was the one who made sure no one got left behind. He was the one everyone looked up to—not Richie, Bill. It was always Bill. Whereas Richie’s just the guy who stands in the background making funny noises only to be told to shut up.

“Yeah… Bill is nice.”

“Don’t tell me you’re my competition, Tozier.” y/n laughed at the oddity of fighting with Richie for the chance to be with Bill.

“Nah,” Richie shook his head, his hair flying in any direction possible. “You’re lucky I’m not, though. You wouldn’t have the chance, babe.”

y/n wanted to eat her heart out at the usage of babe in such an informal setting where they didn’t have to pretend, but the maraschino cherry resting on top of the pile of whipped cream would suffice. “Do you still like Vanessa?” The words tumbled from y/n’s mouth like they were nothing. But embarrassment replaced the blood flowing through her veins once she was aware of what she just said.

“It’s… complicated,” Richie said honestly, not caring that y/n might’ve crossed boundaries just then.

“What’s complicated?” y/n cocked her head like a puppy questioning why its master was making weird hand motions.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, kid.” Richie didn’t mean to come off as condescending, but he did.

“I’m the same age as you.” y/n crossed her arms after pushing away the half-empty, frosted glass in front of her.

Ignoring the red straw in his drink, Richie brought the edge of the glass to his lips and swallowed the thick shake. “Here’s the thing. Vanessa and I go way back.”

“How far is way back if you only dated her for four months?” y/n regretted even bringing her up. Maybe it was different back then, back when the two were actually dating. But now, y/n couldn’t remember a time when someone said the name ‘Richie Tozier’ and her heart didn’t feel like it would explode into a collision of fireworks.

“Four and a half,” Richie corrected with a grin breaking out on his lips. “But I dunno. She’s just special.”

“Special as in…?” y/n probed, and she hated herself for her big mouth that wouldn’t stop applying lemon juice to an obviously open wound.

“I love her.” Richie took another drink of Cookies n Cream, which was more cream than cookies, and y/n sat there in shock. She would be silly to think that after all these weeks, Richie would feel the same way about her. After all, he had a life outside of the fake one they’d construed. Or maybe Richie was just less emotionally confined to these sorts of things. He knew better than to get caught up in a fake relationship. Of course he would.

But knowing Richie still loved his ex, struck something in y/n’s core. And the fact that he was able to say it in such a nonchalant manner—such casualty—only dug deeper at the pit in her stomach.

“You love her?” y/n asked, her mouth still full of the sweet treat he’d pay for later in the evening.

“Love. Loved.” Richie shrugged like this was nothing—well, maybe this was nothing. Maybe y/n was the speck of dust on his shirt and him shrugging was the last of her existence from his being leaving. “What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference.” y/n wanted to scream. Luckily, she had enough self-perseverance to keep her composure. She swallowed. “One is past tense, and one is present tense.”

“How ‘bout I put it this way.” Richie set aside his drink so now nothing was blocking his view of y/n. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I don’t like…” He paused. Revealing that he had no intention in getting back with his once first love would possibly wreck this whole thing. “If Vanessa asked, I’d probably get back with her,” Richie finally said, thinking that must’ve been a suitable way to word the jumble of letters floating around in his head like alphabet soup.

“You would?” y/n asked, feeling like a little kid all over again.

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Do you and her still…”

“Still what?”

“Talk, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” y/n messed with her fingers, pulling at a hangnail she’d know she’d regret doing when it got to later in the night.

“Nah. But don’t worry about it, sweets.” Richie took out his wallet only to be met with a picture of the dreaded girl they’d just been talking about. He gulped. His spit tasted like Oreos and he knew he’d have a stomachache later. Richie thumbed out a ten-dollar bill and five ones to keep Alexander Hamilton company. “Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

It was what she was wondering.

But she’d never let Richie know that. y/n crossed her arms tighter around her torso because right now it felt like Richie could see right through her.

Richie drove her home in the same way Bill would a month from that night. But Richie had a better taste in music and y/n was actually sad to part from him when he left her at her doorstep.

“I’m really sorry I had to cut our time short,” y/n said. She was sorry.

“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”

“Yeah, but I feel awful, Bill.” y/n finally mucked up the courage to look him in the eye. Those blue eyes that’d been searching for hers all afternoon. “This was probably like… the worst first date in the history of first dates.”

“Ih-it’s not so bad. But that duh-depends on how muh-many first dates you’ve been on.” Bill laughed and y/n was trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.

“You’ve been on worse ones?” y/n asked anxiously.

“Luh-let’s just say th-they duh-didn’t get a second date.”

y/n nodded while her hands started to search for the keys in her purse.

“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”

“Or at my funeral. Whichever comes first.” For a moment, the bad thoughts cleared from the surface of y/n’s head. Laughter was the only thing she was aware of for a moment.

“Bye, y/n/n.”

“Bye, Richie,” y/n said bashfully. Her hands were strewn behind her back because she didn’t know what they would do if they weren’t. He was about to walk off—off into the moonlight. And y/n would have to wait until Monday to see him again. It was one day too long because she knew even though the two of them had nothing better to do tomorrow, he’d see it as just friends whereas y/n would see it… differently. “Richie, wait!”

“What?” Richie turned around. His hands sat inside of his front pockets and his posture was slumped, as always.

“Thanks… for tonight.” Richie nodded, and validation from him served as a sick kind of ego booster that egged y/n to keep going. “They really are the best milkshakes in town.”

“Yeah.” Richie’s scratchy voice soothed y/n under the frosty air that came from winters in Maine. y/n stepped closer, her hands still behind her back.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You know I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Richie nudged y/n’s elbow with his but was taken aback by her hands that now gripped his shoulders and how suddenly close she was against him.

y/n kissed him on the cheek, not daring to go for his lips because who’s ever heard of a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Is probably what Stacy Howards would retort back to her after she’d spill the happenings of Saturday night to Derry High’s favorite cheerleader in study hall.

His cheek tasted like salt and Irish Spring—that is, if she knew what Irish Spring tasted like. Which she definitely didn’t.

She didn’t linger long. Richie wished she stayed longer. The kiss was short and sweet and the taste of vanilla on her lips replaced a fraction of his cheek that tasted like body wash and sodium chloride.

“Goodnight,” y/n said, now finally coming to her senses.

“Ye-yeah.” Richie blinked, an alternative to pinching himself in front of the girl he’d been pretending to date. “Night.” But after pretending for so long, Richie couldn’t help but notice the less it felt like pretending.

y/n closed the door behind her with a slam, making sure to lock it in case intruders were in the neighborhood. Now that Bill was gone, her first instinct was to call up Richie—tell him that the date went well, and how he was such a great friend, and thanks for the help. But there were only so many times she could lie to a boy she felt feelings so deeply for. The first, coincidentally, was when Richie had asked how things were going with Bill.

“Make any progress so far?” Richie asked with a face full of ham. They were eating lunch together, per usual. But this time, unlike the many times before, the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich was rubbing circles on y/n’s small hand that Richie’s swallowed.

“Comme ci comme ça.” y/n smiled to herself at her basic understanding any French One student would master. “It’s going alright…” y/n had never been a natural liar. Whenever she told her parents she had cleaned her room when she, in fact, didn’t, the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her forearm broke out in an itch she could never quite scratch. But her internal biological workings had given her a break today. There was no itch and her hairs stayed in place from when she styled her hair that morning.

“What’s alright?” Richie questioned, though it sounded more like an interrogation.

“He started talking to me more.”

“He didn’t already talk to you?” Richie’s eyebrow rose because how were you supposed to fall for a guy you barely talked to?

“Well, yeah, he talks to me.” The pad of Richie’s thumb that was drawing slow circles onto y/n’s knuckles turned into lines. Back and forth. Back and forth. “But he used to talk to me about classwork and… you know, like, school.” Richie smiled when she talked. He was happy for his friend. He truly was. But he couldn’t stand the fact that the guy she was talking about wasn’t him—let alone, his former best friend. “And in APUSH, instead of asking about my grade or whatever, he… asked about me.”

“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”

Mister Charming sat two seats away from y/n. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her. Every now and then, Bill would steal glances at the girl from his peripheral vision. Sometimes, if he were feeling bold, he’d turn to face her—but that action only occurred when she was speaking. Today, however, was different. Today he’d talk to her.

Lucky for Bill, the pencil sharpener sat in the back of class—close to where y/n’s seat was.

“Hey.”

y/n looked up from her textbook. She didn’t want to assume the hushed voice was for her—but she had to figure the tap on her shoulder was.

“Hi.” She set her pencil down and folded her arms flat on the desk. “What’s up?” y/n swore she sounded insane. Who says what’s up—

“Th-the sky.” Bill’s smile made cloudy days seem cloudless. “I was wuh-wondering ih—” He swallowed the trail of saliva that gathered in the back of his throat. “If… are yo-you and Ruh-Richie like…”

“No!” y/n said quickly and a little too loudly.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Muh-maybe we cuh-could hang out… This Saturday work?” A stroke of nervousness flitted across his features for a second even though Bill didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The rest of y/n’s words got caught in her throat and she instinctively found herself writing down her number on the scratch piece of paper Mr. Ferguson passed out for notetaking.

“Call me.”

Bill did call. Which was precisely how y/n was stuck frozen in time; her back slanted against the door and her thoughts racing against one another.

She had two options at hand. Call Richie. Find Richie. Or wait it out for tomorrow when Bill’s same car would be in her driveway, waiting for her.

But a third option was already at y/n’s doorstep, contemplating ringing the doorbell.

Richie Tozier stood outside of y/n’s front door, palms sweaty and unusually anxious for confrontation. His pale fingers knotted together. It was their way of stalling from interacting with y/n for as long as possible—or as long as curfew would allow him to.

“Hey.” His stalling attempt was left unsuccessful when y/n opened the door. Ironically, he was just the person she had hoped to run into. “What are… what are you doing?”

“Me?” Richie’s eyebrows stitched together, and he pointed to himself with his index finger.

“You’re the only one here,” y/n deadpanned.

“I was just in the neighborhood, y’know. Doin’ neighborly things.”

“You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Richie feigned laughter but this time y/n didn’t laugh with him. “Seriously, Rich, why are you here? You knew I had my date with Bill and—”

“And what?” His tone grew firm, like it had grabbed her by the hand and urged whatever was eating at her insides out of her.

“And I don’t think you should be here, after I just got done with my date with somebody else!” y/n said with a shaky breath. She could feel her heartbeat almost burning through her chest that rose and fell harshly.

“How was it? Your date?” Richie had calmed down, but y/n didn’t.

“It went bad. Is that what you wanted to hear?” y/n muttered, but it could’ve been mistaken for a yell.

“No, why would you think—hold on. What’s up with you?” Richie’s hands stuffed themselves in his front pocket. His posture was hunched over, and his face now screwed together, trying to understand the girl standing before him.

“I don’t know.” The flame that had once ignited y/n’s lively spirits had died down. “I just. It didn’t go well, that’s all,” y/n said, unable to coax the words she actually wanted to say out of her lips.

“He wasn’t an asshole, was he?” Richie’s tone was protective—nothing y/n would expect from him two months ago when she’d gotten themselves into this mess.

“No! No.” y/n was complicated. First, she’d spew off about how her date was bad and now she was defending said date?

“God, y/n/n, can you just make up your mind?”

She could do that.

“You were right,” y/n declared.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Richie could still make out what she was saying.

“Well, I’m always right, toots. I just need context—”

“About the fake dating thing. How eventually one person’s bound to fall for the other…” Her toes curled from under the white Converse she hadn’t had time to slip off. They were worn and the bottoms were yellowing from the number of times she’d matched them to an outfit. “And you don’t look like you’re on your knees, so.”

“So, what?” y/n didn’t notice the smirk edging on the corners of Richie’s lips.

“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”

“You have to, or God knows how long we’ll be standing on this fuckin’ porch,” Richie said patiently. Patient. Richie was never patient—always the one to urge his friends to hurry the fuck up, always the one to ask are we there yet? But this time he was. His figure stood still and ominous, like Santa on Christmas Eve. His breathing held steady in his lungs that had seen more smoke than his mother’s kitchen and his feet stood planted on the concrete stoop of y/n’s house and they’d stay there until she told him the very damned thing she didn’t want to.

“I like you, okay?” y/n knew if she blinked, the dam of tears in her eyes would finally burst and the last thing she wanted was having Richie Tozier see her cry. Well, second to last thing. The first thing on that list had already happened. “Look, I know you’re still in love with Van-Vanessa.” It hurt to say the girl’s name because she wasn’t just a girl, she was Richie’s ex. “But you asked me to say it and I did. So there.”

y/n was about to turn back. Back into her house and back out of this friendship. It was only because Richie laughed that y/n stopped. His chuckle was like music, not the kind that Richie blasted in his car with the windows down, but like a symphony. And if y/n were any less mortified right now, maybe she’d stop to admire it—him—for one second more.

She was about to ask why. Why are you mocking me when I’m so clearly in a vulnerable state right now? Why are you mocking me after I’d just shared something so deep and personal with the likes of you? About the likes of you? But y/n didn’t get the chance when Richie surged forward and pressed a kiss against her lips. She could feel her heart pick up even more at the taste of him: spearmint and tobacco. She thought it’d stabilize itself once his lips left hers, but it didn’t. His taste lingered and at the time it felt permanent, like a red stain on white furniture.

“Like I said. Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you.” His breath hit her face, warm and intoxicating, and y/n could only think that kissing Richie on the lips was way better than kissing him on the cheek.

[radioactivemetronome]

i meant to include in my ask, what composers are gay?? I go through a small classical music era every now and then nd would love to know more if you're okay sharing?

✨muahahahaha my time has come✨

So like, part of the difficulty in answering this is that like, historical conceptions of queerness are so very different to our own so for simplicity's sake I'll break this up

Deffo gay:

Aaron Copland: like, aggressively and clearly so. To the point where I read a paper last semester which called him the "gay daddy of American music" (to my never ending delight)

Frederic Chopin: you know how you talk to your college roommate, it's totally platonic to say something like "You don't like being kissed. Please allow me to do so today. You have to pay for the dirty dream I had about you last night" and end all your letters with "give me a kiss, dearest lover" 🙂 just bros being bros 🙂 no homo 🙂🙂 like, if you can find them go read those letters they are both kinda spicy and v romantic

Tchaikovsky: it's the yearning for your own nephew that really makes his music so 😘👌(also unrelated but he became a full-time composer when the wife of some railroad baron was like "love what your doing, quit ur job to focus on ur music and I'll fund you. One condition: I never ever ever wanna meet you." And like, that happens to me WHEN? Apparently they met once at a party and it was super duper awkward lol)

Britten: almost all of his vocal pieces were written for tenor, for his partner 🥺🥺 (I'm not convinced this is as romantic as he thought it was because that music is SO FUCKING DIFFICULT FFS)

Poulenc: was actually one of the first classical composers to be out in his lifetime, which like, he died in 1960, damn dude.

Samuel Barber and Gian Carlo Menotti: THEY WERE LIFE PARTNERS (they met at music school)

Also Bernstein (duh) and Cage but I don't really have much to say about them besides 🥰🥰 for Bernstein and 🖕🖕 to Cage for that 4'33" bullshit. And the prepared piano. What the fuck is that shit.

Possibly? (Probably) gay:

Lully: so like, he definitely did have affairs with both men and women all over the French court, but I put him in the probably because I am CONVINCED he was....involved with Louis XIV because like, there's no way they weren't. Y'all are very very close? But keep it rather quiet?? And you frequently get in massive shit for your affairs? IN THE COURT OF THE MF SUN KING?? COME ON

Handel: was very active in social circles where that was more acceptable, and proooobably was involved with some clergyman

Corelli: was also in those same social circles and ditto clergymen

Schubert: there were some arguments made in the 1990s to this effect, which were highly contentious at the time and mostly just supported by his music itself which is...sketchy imo. But that being said he didn't really ever marry but that's not exactly evidence. Part of the problem is that 19th century Germany was....more lienient about sexuality and bisexuality was kind of an open secret if that makes sense? So it's very possible. (Idk, I go back and forth on how valid I think this is, but there are also some claims that he didn't die of typhoid but of syphilis so it seems like there's this preoccupation with making him some sort of scandal,,, idk)

Reynaldo Hahn: imagine that Oscar Wilde was a French (well, Argentinian I believe but I digress) romantic composer. His letters are also fab.

Other:

Beethoven: There's honestly pretty good evidence to suggest Beethoven was asexual. He never really showed interest in,,, anyone.

Ditto saint-saëns and while for Camille this seems to have convinced everyone he was gay, untill I'm presented with compelling evidence I'm placing him firmly in the ace category with Beethoven.

Ditto Ravel.

And finally,

My Opinion ™️:

Mozart: a classic. My favourite punching bag. The original catboy (legit). Idk what the fuck his deal was, but it wasn't women.

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole - (Chp. 2/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

TW: Mentions of overdose

August 2009

“Mom, I’ve got all my stuff in the ca….” Chloe’s sentence is swallowed back up into the atmosphere when she walks back into the living room, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chloe’s mom is sitting in the middle of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around a scruffy looking man in a mechanics uniform. There’s a few half empty bottles of booze on the coffee table and a lit joint between her mother’s fingers. She laughs airily at some dumb remark the stranger practically underneath her makes. She’s as high as a kite and probably drunk to boot.

“Chloe!” her mom’s eyes light up at the sight of her only daughter, “come have a drink baby.”

The only good thing about her mom getting high instead of drunk is that she is much happier. Her mom is an angry drunk, she turns into someone that Chloe scarcely recognizes. At least when she’s high she somewhat resembles someone Chloe used to know.

“What happened to taking me to college today?” she snaps, completely ignoring her mother’s request.

“That was today?” she asks dumbly, bringing her glass tumbler to her lips, taking a long sip of dark amber liquid.

Chloe groans frustratedly, “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“Calm down princess, we can still do it,” she’s got to be kidding, she’s not going to let her mom drive anywhere like this.

Chloe shakes her head vigorously, “No. It’s fine, I’ll just stuff everything into my car and do it myself. You clearly have more important things to do.”

Her words must permeated through her mom’s hazy brain because she’s jumping up from the sofa, some of her drink sloshing out of her glass and onto the cream colored carpet, “No, Chloe let me do this. I want to do this.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere like this,” Chloe motions up and down her mother’s body, “you would just be an embarrassment.”

Her expression almost looks hurt before it turns bitter, “If that’s how you feel about me, then fine do it all on your own. See if I care.”

Chloe turns around without another word. She mindlessly shoves all her belongings into her little chevy impala, barely getting in everything she needs. She doesn’t even bother to go inside to say goodbye before driving down the road. It’s time for a new beginning, a new life, one she doesn’t have to hate. She has a good feeling about Barden, hopefully her gut is right.

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

December 2012

The winter air is crisp, sending a shiver down Chloe’s spine as her and Beca walk towards her dorm. They just left Bellas rehearsal and the air almost feels good after all the exercise.

“So, what are you doing for winter break?” Beca breaks the comfortable silence, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Chloe shrugs, “I’ll probably stay on campus, I might go visit my brother, if he’s going to be around.”

Beca looks at her dumbly for a moment before composing herself again, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

Her and Beca have gotten really close this semester, Chloe might even dare to say she’s her best friend…if she didn’t have a heart stopping crush on the younger girl that is. Even so, she’s not sure if she wants to unpack her reasoning for never going home yet.

“Nope,” she answers the question simply, hoping Beca will just take the answer and let the topic drop.

She knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky, because Beca doesn’t care about anyone…anyone but her it seems. Chloe is the only person Beca goes the extra mile for, at least from Chloe’s point of view, that’s how it seems.

“Why?” the question barely surprises her as it come out of Beca’s mouth, her breath leaving a puff of white in the air.

“It’s a long story,” Chloe tries her best to deflect, but she knows Beca won’t give it up.

Maybe opening up to someone else would feel good. Maybe to weight of her problems would feel a little lighter.

“I’ve got time, we can go get coffee?” Beca looks at her hopefully, “My treat?”

“I thought you were having a movie night with Jesse,” Beca had been talking about it all week, the excitement of a new relationship and all.

That’s another thing that has been making Chloe feel even worse than she does at this time of the year. She had a bad feeling Beca would end up with him…she had a bad feeling she was straight. Chloe loves their friendship, but it just makes everything that much more painful.

“You were literally coming to my dorm to hang anyways, that’s not until later,” Beca laughs.

Chloe’s cheeks burn red, “Oh yea, sorry, blonde moment I guess?”

“You’re not even blonde, you don’t get to use that one.”

Chloe gives Beca a playful shove, “Shut up.”

After another five minutes of walking, they finally end up at the coffee shop. Before Chloe knows it, there’s a steaming hot cup in her hands and Beca looking across the table at her expectantly.

“So now, why don’t you go home for Christmas?” Beca parrots the question from earlier, making Chloe squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“So, I guess it all really started when my dad died,” Chloe twirls the paper cup in her hands, attempting to channel her nerves into something else.

Beca nods, encouraging her on.

“My mom kind of self-imploded after his death…it started with drinking. It just spiraled from there, drugs, lots of sex with random men. It made all four years of high school miserable for me,” Chloe can feel tears threating to spill, she never talks about this, “after my first Christmas back home in college I vowed to never go back until she got her shit together.”

A hand reaches across the table to settle over her own. Chloe looks up into Beca’s eyes, which are sad and empathetic. It makes her feel comfortable, grounded, Beca’s hand against her own. Her fingers twitch underneath the touch, she never wants to break the contact.

“I’m so sorry Chloe,” Beca says softly, “that must be really hard…so I take it she’s still pretty bad?”

Chloe nods slowly, “Uh yea, I’ve tried to get her to go to rehab but she won’t listen, I’m worried she never will.”

“I know this is nothing compared to what you dealt with,” Beca looks vulnerable as she speaks, “but high school was really rough for me too. My parents got a divorce and my dad married my now step monster. I felt so betrayed, I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I felt like my dad was giving up on me.”

“I’m glad you shared that,” Chloe turns her hand so it’s holding Beca’s instead of lying limply below hers, “I’m glad I’m not the only one with a shitty story.”

“I mean you definitely win if we’re comparing, but yea, it was nothing to write home about,” Beca smirks.

Beca finally pulls her hand away and Chloe instantly misses her touch. She quickly moves her hand back to her cup, lifting it to her mouth, not wanting Beca to know how much the little contact affected her.

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?” Beca asks after a few moments of silence.

The question practically makes Chloe choke on her latte, “I couldn’t do that Bec. Your family doesn’t even know me.”

“They know of you,” Beca replies nonchalantly, “plus they would love you.”

“So, you’ve talked about me to your family?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

It’s Beca’s turn for her cheeks to fade into a light shade of red, “They were asking if I made any friends…so I told them about you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed Beca, I love that you’ve told them about me. If I talked to my mom, she would know about you, because you’re one of the best things about this semester,” Chloe says honestly, hoping the blunt truth doesn’t weird the other girl out.

A smile the size of Texas spreads across Beca’s face. She doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Chloe knows she probably feels similarly if her expression is to judge.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jesse to go home with you for Christmas instead of me?” Chloe suddenly remembers Beca’s boyfriend.

Beca shakes her head no, “He has his own family to go home to, plus I’ve only been dating him for a month. I’d much rather have you come with me…especially because I want to save you from having to be here for three weeks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chloe finally answers Beca’s offer.

She’s going to have to think hard about it, the last time she went home with someone for Christmas…well let’s just say it’s not a fond memory. It was an almost eerily similar situation. She had known Aubrey for one semester and after the blonde found out about her mom, she had invited her home for Christmas. She also needs to remind herself that it was a very different situation all together.

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

December 2009

There’s no hiding the fact that Chloe is scared to go home for Christmas. She’s scared about what she’s going to find. It’s the first time her mom has been alone for that long. Chloe watched out for her more than a teenage daughter should.

She also left on bad terms in the fall.

She could walk into anything really, which is terrifying. Which is why the whole drive back to South Carolina, Chloe is practically shaking with nerves. She probably shouldn’t have loaded up on coffee like she did, the caffeine isn’t helping. Aubrey has called her on and off, offering her support…and the reminder that she can go to Aubrey’s house if it’s too bad. Chloe was determined to make this work though; she didn’t want to run away on her mom completely. Chloe is not a quitter.

About an hour later she finally pulls into the driveway of her mom’s house, the windows are dark even thought the sun set hours ago. That’s already not a good sign. Chloe puts the car into park and takes a deep shaky breath. She gets out of the car after a few moments of composing herself.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up the path to the front door, her hand shakes as she lifts the key to the lock. Chloe pushes the door open slowly, she can hear the TV blaring some infomercial for air tight containers. It’s the only light illuminating the living room. As Choe steps further in the door, she can see her mom’s identical mop of red hair flowing over the arm of the sofa, her hand hanging limply down onto the floor. She can’t make out much else with how dark the room is, the blue-ish light of the TV making everything look a little eerie.

An ice-cold feeling courses through her, her heart rate picking up. Something isn’t right, she can just feel it. Chloe throws her bag down onto the floor and rushes over to the sofa. It barely looks like her chest is moving up and down, her lips look a little blue. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a baggy of pills on the coffee table. Shit. This can’t be happening.

“Mom,” Chloe says firmly, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Chloe kneels down next to her and shakes her vigorously, “MOM.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers can barely hold still as she dials 911.

The operator is calm and comforting. She walks Chloe through checking to see if her mom’s heart is still beating. She feels like she’s floating through some nightmare as she rips her mom’s shirt open and starts chest compressions. She has no clue how long she hammers into her mom’s chest before the door busts open and the paramedics are pushing her out of the way. Her vision blurs as she finally lets herself cry.

She’s not quite sure how she gets to the hospital. The world finally comes back into focus when a nurse carefully approaches her and asks if there’s anyone that she can call for her.

“Um, my best friend, Aubrey,” her voice sounds foreign to her.

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

When Chloe’s mom finally is stable and back at home, Chloe leaves to go back home with Aubrey. Before she leaves, it isn’t pretty, her and her mom scream and fight, but there is no way she’s ever going to come back home to that again. Chloe gives her a final ultimatum: Go and get some help or I’m done here.

Christmas is miserable, even though Aubrey’s family is warm, inviting and sympathetic. They make her feel like she’s family. Even so, Chloe has never felt more alone. She feels like she has nowhere to go. She has no one to bake her cookies to take back to her dorm or give her a hug that feels like home when she needs it or give her boy (or girl?) advice. She’s all alone and it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

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

December 2012

“I’ll go home with you,” Chloe offhandedly mentions to Beca as they sit on the bed in Chloe’s room at the Bella house.

Beca’s eyes light up and the chips she was munching on practically fall out of her mouth, “Really?”

Chloe nods, after thinking about it, the idea of having people to spend Christmas with would be really nice. It’s something she hasn’t experienced since Christmas her freshman year.

“I would love to,” Chloe smiles happily at the younger girl next to her.

“That’s awesome!” Beca exclaims, “Oh shit, I’ve got to book the flight like now then.”

“You haven’t done that already?” Chloe looks at her quizzically.

Beca shrugs, “I was waiting to see if you would want to come first.”

“You could have missed out on getting tickets Bec, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, it’s ok though, I wanted to,” Beca looks down at her phone, which has flight listings to Seattle already displayed, “get your snow boots ready Beale, it’s been chilly out there this year.”

“You know, I’ve only seen snow a couple times in my whole life,” Chloe already feels excited thinking about seeing the fluffy, white precipitation.

Beca’s eyes bug out, “Dude, we are so going sledding.”

For the first time in years, Chloe is starting to feel excited about this time of year. This might be the best Christmas she’s had in a long time…

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 1)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So months back I hinted that I was working on a few new AUs. I have been wanting to write this fic since the moment it popped into my head, but I held back, knowing I had two other great stories that deserved their happy ending and a proper send off. Now though both of my other fics are done, we are on to one of our first new fics. To all of you that have begged for another CS AU where someone is a prince or princess… this is for you, and for me. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be writing this. I have missed this kind of world since I finished When Love Reigns, and this time the script is flipped – it’s Killian who is royalty. This first chapter though, is building a bit of our back story. It’s from Emma’s POV and it puts us on the path to change. So without any more delay, I hope you guys enjoy the story and thanks so much for reading!

“Goooood Morning, New York! It’s that time again – WAKE UP CALL!”

The sound of sirens and clanging that blasted through the clock radio next to her bed echoed through the once silent room, slamming into Emma with a force that gave her no choice but to wake.

“Crap!” Emma screeched as she jolted from the bed, woken from an incredibly sound sleep. On instinct her body moved quickly, trying to jump from bed like she would when Henry was little and called to her in the night, but she wasn’t totally coordinated yet. Instead of landing on her feet, she tumbled, hitting the ground hard and letting out a groan. “Double crap!”

A knock sounded at the door and two seconds later her son’s voice filtered through. “Mom, did you fall out of bed again?”

“No comment,” Emma replied, checking herself for major injuries. Thankfully she would be fine, but this was not a good look.

It’s temporary, she said to herself as she stood up and stretched, willing her limbs to let go of the tension and the achiness that a fall like that would cause. The semester is nearly over. I’ve only got one summer class. One not three. One not three.

She chanted the mantra that had gotten her through this spring over and over in her mind as she went through her morning routine. It was a rushed, frantic situation, as it normally was on weekdays, but somehow, just like always, things came together in the end. She was showered and ready, dressed for her admin job in the financial district. Henry was also totally geared up for school, proving once again how self-sufficient he was.  Having a son with as much maturity as Henry was a blessing on mornings like this one where she was dead on her feet from studying all night and still had to be up bright and early for the office. He was eight going on thirty-eight. Honestly most days it felt like Henry had it more together than she did, but as she walked into the kitchen to press a kiss on the crown of his head and he smiled genuinely at her, Emma couldn’t seem to care. She might not be perfect at being a Mom, but her kid was happy and well, and that was all that truly mattered.

“Someone seems chipper this morning. Did you sneak those powdered donuts I hid or something?” Emma asked as she made herself and Henry some sliced fruit. Henry, meanwhile, measured out their cereal, liking to be a part of their prep process as much as he could. He handled things with the ginger care and attention of someone trying their best, focused on the task with so much purpose and precision.

“No, I didn’t, honestly Mom, I promise.”

Emma stifled a laugh at how adamant he was. She knew the truth: her son was too good for stealing, even just a few treats. It was amazing how much of a moral compass he had. Sometimes she wondered if it was too much for a boy his age. He should be getting into a little trouble, causing mischief, doing… something, anything that wasn’t picture perfect. But Henry wasn’t like that. He preferred stories to anything else, and the look on his face told Emma that a story was exactly what had him so animated this morning.

“Well if it’s not a sugar high then it must be a good book. What’s on tap for today?”

Listening to her little boy talk about his newfound tale made Emma so happy, because his own enthusiasm was infectious. Reading had always come easy to Henry, and he was on pace for the level of a sixth grader though he was only in 3rd. It was amazing to behold, but also a little overwhelming. Emma herself had never had that yearning to read, probably because the only books in the group homes she grew up in were ripped up and torn to shreds. By the time she was old enough to go to school and use the libraries they had, Emma was jaded. Thankfully she’d been quick to learn and always got by, but by high school she’d skipped town, never to look back.

A few years later she was barely surviving day to day and her heart decided it would be a good time to give the whole love thing a chance. She met a man who claimed he loved her, but, in the end he was nothing but a tough lesson made flesh. Neal taught Emma that it wasn’t enough to love someone. You had to love someone good, someone kind, and someone who loved you enough to care for you and fight for you too. Instead of meeting that marker, Neal stole a bunch of shit, tried to let her take the fall, and, to add insult to injury, skipped town and never looked back. Nothing ended up coming from the charges made against her – the judge threw the case out when he heard about her background, only asking that she commit to a hundred hours of volunteering, and in the meantime the only good thing Neal ever gave her was her son. But, despite her rocky beginnings, and thanks to a little luck and more than a couple of miracles, here they were. Nearly ten years had gone by since she’d seen Neal and Emma and Henry were good. They had each other, now and always, and though their family was small, and at times Emma wondered what it would be like to fall in love again, she didn’t want to rock the boat or jeopardize all the good she and Henry were lucky enough to have.

“Mom, did you hear me?” Henry asked and Emma’s mind shifted back into her room instead of where it had been, skipping down memory lane.

“Sorry, kid. Coffee hasn’t hit yet,” she said with a shrug. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m almost done with my final project for Ms. Harlow’s class.”

“Almost done? But you’ve still got another month of school.”

“I know, but it’s just reading and writing. My favorites.”

Emma listened in on his update about his project, and it didn’t surprise her to hear Henry was ahead of his class. This had been happening since he entered kindergarten. Every year the teachers set objectives and every year Henry met each one, most of them pretty early. It was a great thing in one respect, because it meant Emma didn’t have to worry about him. Henry was brilliant and gifted and would clearly go far in life, but it did make Emma wonder: was she doing enough for his son? More than once she’d been told that a private school might suit him better and might challenge him more. But she simply didn’t have the money. Hell, she’d worked overtime for years just to get them in this tiny apartment in this district which was one of the nicer ones in the city.

Henry continued to tell her all about school as they left the apartment and headed out, and their whole commute in was filled with his updates about the things he’d learned and still wanted to know. Emma noted that there were very few stories involving other kids and she knew that was probably because Henry didn’t have an enormous amount of friends. Oh the other kids liked him, of course, who wouldn’t love her son who only had nice things to say and a friendly smile to offer? But he wasn’t tied to any of them closely. Instead he preferred the company of books, and of Emma and their favorite friendly neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard.

“All right Henry, so you know the plan, right? Today’s Wednesday which means…”

“School, then library club, then Mrs. H will pick me up and watch me until you get out of class. I wonder what she’ll make for dinner. I hope it’s spaghetti.”

Emma agreed, knowing that her neighbor’s spaghetti was legendary. Mrs. Hubbard had years of practice, cooking for her own family over the course of many years, but her kids were all grown now and it was just her and her husband living in the city. Her husband, though well past retirement age, loved his job down at the docks, and still went in for a few hours every evening to manage the shift change from day shift to night. Mrs. H, meanwhile, was desperate for the chance to mother people again, and she did so often with Emma and Henry. At first Emma tried to protest, but it all fell on deaf ears. Not only did this wonderful woman help care for Henry, she was always helping with the cooking and the cleaning. She was also pretty much a built-in therapist for Emma, and every time she met a challenge in her parenting she couldn’t face, Emma called Mrs. H. That woman was the closest thing she and Henry had to family, and Emma knew Mrs. H felt just as strongly for them in return.

“Whatever it is we’re going to love it and we’re going to thank Mrs. H so much for her help, right?”

“Of course,” Henry said with a nod. They’d finally arrived at his school building and now was the time to say goodbye. Last year parent drop off was in the class room, but this year they moved the kids to drop off at the door. Most kids took that as a sign to stop hugging their parents when leaving for the day, but not Henry. Instead he gave her a big hug which warmed her through and made her feel so blessed and reassured. Henry was truly the sweetest, and when he finally let go and ran into the building Emma let out a sigh, thinking to herself how damn lucky she was to have Henry as her son.

Her day from there was just about as crazy as she expected. The time she had to get from Henry’s school to work was minimal, but she managed to slip into the office just under the radar. For eight straight hours she was moving, and she barely had time to devour the sandwich she’d packed for the day while running to and from errands that the office staff needed help with. She couldn’t take lunch though, not when she had to leave early to run ten blocks to class this afternoon. Again, her ability to get there was nearly undermined, this time by a broken subway car that caused more congestion than ever on the street as people tried to walk instead. But in just the nick of time, Emma made her way through the wrought iron gates of her university, and was in her assigned chair in the Mills Center Auditorium, listening attentively to the lecture her favorite professor had lined up today.

Since having Henry, Emma had needed to work and pay bills and figure things out. At first she tried to do that with just her GED, but soon it became clear that she needed to go back to school. Thank god there had been online classes, and she’d managed to find enough scholarships for ex-foster kids to get her an associates degree. When that was done she went to the state school in the city and started taking more classes and in four more years she had her bachelors. She was so proud of herself and so glad for the bump in pay that a simple degree had earned her, but somehow school had called her back again, this time for a masters degree in childhood development and social work. It was a very focused degree, without any ties to her current financial job, but it was the work her heart wanted to do. With her MS she would qualify for a number of jobs, all aimed at helping kids in the system, and again, thanks to some hard fought for scholarships, she was managing it all at virtually no cost but time.

The two-hour seminar she sat in today was engaging and interesting, honing in on a case study of one particular city – Sacramento. Their public programming was a beacon for the American model and through partnerships of government, schools, companies, and community activists there was a significantly lower rate of teenage runaways and kids who graduated from the system with ‘bad outcomes.’ Emma noted all the policy choice that were implemented to help these kids and she applauded the effort of these experts, but she knew there were still more things that could be done. She took just as many notes on the lecture as she did her own ideas, and by the end of class, her pages were full and her mind was equipped with a few more answers and a lot more questions.

When their time was up, the rest of her cohort dispersed. They were younger than Emma and most of them were friendly with each other. They always were nice to Emma too, saying hi and asking about Henry, but Emma didn’t linger long after class. She had to get home to her son, and to get back to working on all the things she had to face tomorrow.

“Emma, would you mind coming with me to my office? I have something to give you. It’ll just take a moment.”

“Sure, Professor Hopper,” Emma agreed, not thinking much of it. ‘Doc’ Hopper was a great lecturer and a helpful teacher and there’d been many times when he gave her a book or some other sources for her work. She assumed that was what was happening today, but when he asked her to take a seat as he moved around his desk Emma started to get worried.

“I’m sorry, professor. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Emma. In fact, quite the opposite. The department has selected the JR Foundation Fellowship recipient this year.”

“Oh?” she asked, wondering which of the people in her class was getting the chance to travel abroad and learn from some of the best minds in childhood development and psychology. She thought maybe Ayana or Jade might be good choices. They were both bright and determined. Matthew was a wild card. But she imagined he must be up for consideration given his often out of the box ideas.

“It’s you, Emma. You’re our chosen fellow.”

“Me?”

Emma whispered out the clarifying question, not understanding what Doc Hopper was getting at. The connection to the JR Foundation Fellowship was one of the biggest selling points of this program. Students from across the world came here just to be considered for it and to say she was not lobbying for the possibility would be an understatement. Most of the time she felt she was barely scraping by. Everyone else in her program was younger than her, none of them had children, and those who had a job worked part time or entirely for the school. Emma was always on the fringes of her cohort, but all the late nights studying and reading had paid off. She learned a lot and did well when it came to grades. Still, she never imagined this would happen, and for a fleeting moment she felt pure excitement.

You can’t go, her inner voice said suddenly. You’ve got Henry to think about. How would you afford it? You could never take him out of school. You can’t move him halfway across the world just to nickel and dime things. We’ve had enough ramen to last a lifetime.

The reasons why this would never work mounted internally as Emma cleared her throat and fidgeted in her chair. She was about to turn down the most prestigious offer anyone at her level could receive and the pain of that was sharp. To know she’d earned this but that it wasn’t meant to be hurt her, but she would not allow herself to linger in the sadness. Nothing had changed from this morning – she was still a very lucky woman, with a roof over her head, food on her table, and an incredible son who filled her life more than any stop in her career ever could.

“Professor Hopper, I’m truly flattered to be chosen. But -,”

“Wait, Emma, before you turn this down, please know that the faculty is aware of your unique circumstances and we’ve made some adjustments to the fellowship terms. It’s all spelled out here,” he said, handing her a folder with papers and admission offers.

Emma opened it up, and within the bolded headlines of the first page there were all sorts of add ons. A housing grant that would cover her and Henry for more than six months, additional ‘cost of living’ scholarships, and more. Tears formed in her eyes at she looked at the stipend she would receive if she accepted this appointment. It was more than she made at city hall, and she knew already that her good standing with the city would allow for her to take this opportunity if she chose to. She could request up to a year of leave where they’d hold her job if she gave enough notice, and she had just enough time to do so. Still there was one concern – what about Henry? What about his life? Would it be right to spring something like this on him? They had only a month before the fellowship was set to start. She couldn’t do that… could she?

“I realize that you’ll need time to consider, Emma, but as you can imagine time is rather limited. I can wait a few days, but we’ll need to know by the end of the week if you accept.” Professor Hopper looked at her with a transparent sense of honesty and empathy. It was always clear why this man studied child psychology and counseling. He was quiet and patient but adamant in wanting to help. But when he looked at her like this, Emma remembered her own childhood and how little there had been by ways of help and guidance. “For what it’s worth, Emma, I really hope you’ll take the appointment. In all my years at this school, I’ve never met a student so well suited to this job. Your experience is one thing, but it’s a gift unique to you. You have a way with these kids, Emma, and a fellowship like this can help you make the most of your degree come graduation. It opens all kinds of doors and you know what that can mean.”

“Helping so many more kids,” Emma admitted aloud, and that was ultimately what she wanted more than anything. Yes, providing for her son was the most important thing, but there were so many more children out there who didn’t have nearly enough. Without family or money or hope, the world was a sad and scary place and Emma wanted to fend off some of that fear for as many kids as she could. Doctor Hopper’s point was undeniable, and people who had previously taken this fellowship had gone on to do so much, like launch successful non-profits and run whole government departments for children in need. It was a chance to learn, to grow, and to meet people who knew how to make things happen, and Emma was enticed by that, so much more than she should be.

“Take some time, Emma. Mull I over, talk to your son, and if it’s right, it’s right. You know you’ll always have my full support either way.”

Emma thanked Professor Hopper and collected her things, heading out of his office and away from school. It was a short commute back home, but riding the subway at this time of day meant being a part of the last big rush of people. She was squished into the train car, but she didn’t think much of it. Instead she read over the more than generous offer of the package the school was giving her. Usually the fellowship was generous, with the chance to go to Montenaro (a tiny European country she’d never once heard of outside of this) and a small stipend to live on with placement in student housing. For Emma, however, other arrangements had been made, including a small house that was still at least triple the size of where her and Henry lived now. The stipend was also larger (to cover the cost of any needed ‘childcare expenses’) and Doctor Hopper had written a note – he had a good friend who had a connection to a private elementary school near the University of Montenarro. There was a spot for Henry available for the fall semester, which was still a few months out, and a space for him at the University’s summer camp. Emma actually cried at how kind this offer was and how much time it must have taken and how many favors must have been called in. People had moved mountains for her and in the process they’d pulled down so many of the blockades that might keep her from saying yes.

Her heart began to believe that this might actually be possible. The timing was actually kind of perfect – her term would start in six weeks, in the middle of June and her lease on the apartment was set to end at the end of that month. She was planning to renew, but it didn’t make sense to keep the place for six months while they were away. That was money she could save for a rainy day, and when all of this was over she’d be done with her degree early and would be looking for a job anyway. Maybe they weren’t strictly bound to New York. They could end up anywhere. The possibilities seemed endless.  Still, as she made her way back to her apartment Emma tried to get herself in check and school her features. The last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up. This would come down to what was best for Henry, and she’d never want to pressure her son into doing something for her that he didn’t really want. But at the same time it was such a great opportunity. The money, the living arrangement, and the work experience. It all seemed so perfect.

“Anybody home?” She asked, as she opened the door to her place and walked in, dropping her coat and taking off her shoes in the front walk as she headed to the kitchen.

“Hi Mom!” Henry said, barreling into her with another big hug and a huge smile on his face. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, kid,” she said, ruffling up his hair. “Hey Mrs. H. Something sure smells good.”

“It’s spaghetti Bolognese, and it’s very near ready. How was class, dear?”

“Great. Actually about that, I got some news today.”

“Big news?” Henry asked excitedly and Emma shook her head and smiled.

“Huge news. You know that fellowship I told you about? The one in Europe?”

“I remember. It’s in that tiny little country on the coast. What was it? Monta… Monta…”

“Montenarro,” she filled in and the light in Henry’s eyes burned bright with recognition.

“Oh right – you know their national fruit is called a montacari? It’s like if you mixed a strawberry, blackberry, and a raspberry. They only grow in mild mountain climates and before the berries grow the plants make flowers that are pink and red and white. Every August they have a festival there to celebrate the harvest.”

“How do you know that?” Emma asked, amazed at her son’s seemingly endless memory and then she filled in at the same time Henry did. “Let me guess: you read about it?“

“I read about it,” Henry echoed and they laughed.  “So who won the spot?”

“I did,” Emma announced and for a beat there was complete silence. She watched as her son took in the news and then he was moving, jumping up and down and hugging her all over again.

“You did it, Mom! You did it! You did it! I knew you could do it!”

“You thought I’d win?” Emma asked and Henry nodded fiercely.

“Absolutely! You’re the best, Mom, everyone knows that!”

Emma laughed as she looked over to Mrs. H who had a huge smile on her face. “Congratulations, honey. But I think I must have missed something. What exactly is this fellowship?”

Emma explained the circumstances surrounding the placement. It was a six-month appointment, for two terms – summer and fall - and in that time the recipient worked for the J.R. Foundation. J.R. was an international charity with an impeccable reputation focused on helping vulnerable youth populations around the globe. They worked on literacy outreach, education initiatives, disaster relief and more, but this fellowship appointee would work with the counseling division, focusing on children’s health, wellness, and mental resilience strategies.  That six months of work counted as her two semesters of full time interning which she needed to graduate, and for Emma, it would mean cutting down her time to graduation significantly. At the end of this six months, if she added in an online class or two, she’d be ready to graduate, finishing up eighteen months earlier than she previously expected.

Halfway through her explanation, Emma watched Henry leave and head to his room. She heard a lot of movement inside and she frowned, worried about what he was up to. “Henry? Everything all right?”

“Are you kidding? Everything’s awesome! We’re moving to Montanarro and I’ve got to get packing!”

“Henry, wait,” she said and her son popped his head out before she motioned for him to come closer. “We still have to talk about this. This is a really big change. It would mean you miss the last few weeks of school here, and that next fall you’re not with your friends here. We wouldn’t be back until just before Christmas. Are you sure you like that idea? I won’t be mad if you want to stay here. This is our home.”

“Home is where we are together, Mom. You know that,” Henry said, reciting a line she’d said over and over again to him, especially back when times were tougher and they really struggled to get by. His assuredness made her throat tighten. Again she was on the verge of tears but she fought them off. “Besides – every hero has a special journey, Mom, and their special journey usually starts with a new place. Think of the adventure we can have together. It’s gonna be awesome!”

“Henry it might not be that easy. Moving can be hard sometimes. Things will be different there. I know they speak English, but there’s other languages and customs too. It might not be the easiest adjustment.”

“I can do different!” Henry replied eagerly with a smile. “I’m great with different. Different is my middle name.”

“Henry, you don’t have a middle name,” Emma teased and he shrugged.

“Well now I do, and it’s Different. So can we go, Mom. Please? I promise I’ll be so so good.”

“You’re always good, kid.” Emma said softly, running her fingers through the hair that was shadowing his brow. “Are you sure, Henry? It’s a really big step.”

“Can’t you feel it, Mom? Don’t think with your head. Use your heart, like you taught me.” Emma was quiet for a moment as she took in her young son’s sage advice. “You feel it too, I know you do. This is right for us. It’s our path.”

“Why don’t I sleep on it, okay, kid? In the meantime you go wash up for dinner all right?”

Henry seemed to accept this non-answer, though he muttered under his breath about always having to wait for adventure. Emma smiled despite herself and then looked to Mrs. H who was watching her closely.

“So what do you think? I know we’d be leaving you and Mr. H in a bind. You weren’t expecting to have to look for new tenants and -,”

Mrs. H interrupted Emma by taking her hand in hers and silently commanding her attention. Emma looked up and listened carefully. “Honey, you don’t worry about that at all, you hear me? My Horace and I are golden. We don’t need to rent this place out, but we took one look at you and Henry and we knew you were going to be like family. And you know what family does, Emma? They support each other always. This fellowship sounds like everything you’ve wanted. You can make a difference and you and that darling boy of yours can see the world a little. In the meantime we’ll keep this place here for you. No one else is renting it and you don’t need to worry about paying anything at all. The payment has been getting to know you two these last few years. That’s better than anything money can buy.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked, half wondering about her generosity but also asking if she should go at all. She was excited, to be sure, but she was also terrified. What if she failed? What if something happened? What if –

“I am, Emma. And deep down you are too. Henry was right, this is an adventure, one you should meet and embrace every step of the way.”

Emma appreciated the counsel and though Henry came barreling back in soon and the conversation shifted, Emma had all evening to think about the choice in front of her. She grappled with her options – to take the safe path and pass up on a once in a lifetime opportunity, or to take a little risk and have a taste of adventure and fulfillment with her son in a brand new place. By the end of the night, as she was drifting off to bed, Emma knew she had her answer: this was going to happen. She was going to take this step and take a chance, and somehow, despite her less than stellar origins, she trusted it would all work exactly the way that it should.

Little did she know how true that was, and just how much purpose and hope she would find in a tiny country halfway around the world.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just in case anyone is curious about the title, I actually got a creative burst in conceiving of this AU plot line when I heard the song ‘Feels Like This’ by Maisie Peters. If you haven’t heard it before, you should definitely listen, as it’s a lovely one with all kinds of feels. Anyway, I know that this chapter was all from Emma’s POV, but as you might have guessed, next chapter we will see Killian and where he is at when we begin this story. I’m so excited for this AU and to build this dynamic and I am hoping to share the second chapter with you all next weekend. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think, what you might like to see in this fic, and what your general thoughts on this kind of AU are. As always I appreciate you all so much, I hope that you’ve enjoyed, and I wish you all well and happy! Thanks again!

[highgaarden]

a radical notion: are you awake?

INCEPTION AU: Caroline wants out, but Klaus isn't so convinced.

//

“You’re in my dreams.”

"That I am,” Caroline says agreeably as she weaves through the pillars, leaving behind a red silk trail. Her dress, torn at the knees. Klaus had seen it on her, somewhere, she’s sure – something in his eyes softens as he studies the way the red wraps around her shoulders. Maybe he’s trying to remember. To distract him, she adds, “It’s the last safe place on earth.”

Written as part of the KC Bingo 2020 by @klaroline-events for the prompt ‘PARIS’.

Gorgeous accompanying graphics by @goldcaught can be found here.

thank you, as always, to fleshandbonetelephone, @galvanizedfriend & goldcaught for listening to me cry about this fic and reading through its painful first drafts.

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

a radical notion: 

hey, are you awake?

—

 The day Enzo comes over is the day that he, for some inexplicable reason, decides to burn her apartment down.

“I’m going to do it!” he calls from outside, his shadow pooling like black ink in the cloak of golden street light. “Don’t think I won’t!”

There’s a whir of cars, a dull thud of heel against gasoline can, the rattle of bed railings against scuffed wallpaper from next door, the wet slosh of beer against gleaming green glass.

“Enzo,” she calls from inside, her arms slipping on wet porcelain. From where she is she can just make out the black scruff of his hair that refuses to soften under comb or touch, but more importantly: the tank of gasoline hanging limply from his hand.

“Yes?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” is his decided reply.

 —

 “Redecorating?”

Of course the first thing Enzo does when he wakes up is move everything around in her fridge and breathe down her shoulder, eyeing the half-done wallpaper and pretending to not see the burnt space above her mantelpiece. “Damask. Interesting. I always pegged you for floral.”

“If you’re going to stay,” Caroline says into her red wine, “might as well make yourself useful.” Bubbles froth tiny discordant pops around her knees, her back slips into the warm water, and Enzo knows better than to snark. He rolls his eyes, maybe, but he crouches by the lip of her tub and starts rubbing circles into her skin. Touch her hard enough, he’d once said, and she’d end up as calloused and weathered as he.

“But then again, you haven’t lived long enough,” he says softly into the fine curls of baby hair at the nape of her neck. “You haven’t endured.”

The window steams from the hot water. Caroline places her empty wine glass on the windowsill and leans into his massage, eyes closing. She imagines smashing the glass and pointing red shards at his throat. “You don’t know that.”

Her chin dips into the water. It’s a tougher angle for him to keep going, she thinks out of spite. But he also knows better than to stop.

“There’s—sit up a bit, Gorgeous—there’s a job, next month, in Sicily—”

“No.”

“Caroline—“

“I said no.”

“Are you just going to sit here all day in this tub, then? Watch the world pass you by?”

“Is that judgement I detect in your tone?” Her gaze thins. He can’t see, and maybe that makes her clear her throat and roll her neck, regain composure. She’s not the one who spent fifty years in a locked cellar, looping time around memories of a girl.

“I’m just saying…” Enzo sighs. With a kiss to her temple he says, “You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”

 —

 Because this, her little apartment in the crook of Place de Furstenburg, isn’t dreaming big enough? She’d certainly worked hard at it. As if dreams could be found in a pied-à-terre she had scrubbed its floors and polished its wooden beams, dragged a tub to the tall absurdly-French windows so she could count the smoky grey rooftops of Paris, watched their raised hats of weathered shingles and rain-beaten drainpipes—watch the world pass her by, in all essence.

Because damn if she didn’t deserve this.

It was as if dreams could be found in the prop of her ankles on her windowsill, the sleepy tilt of her head as she devoured the world, all from the view of her window. She didn’t need to go to sleep anymore, not if she didn’t want to.

 —

 Caroline’s not sure why, but she thinks she sees Klaus at the Pavillon Gabriel. He would have been a welcome ruin; different than the kind she’s feeling now.

Centre yourself, Klaus would have reminded her if he were really there, and because she doesn’t hear his voice, she’s certain it’s not real. She’s certain, because Klaus always loves to make himself known, in some way or another. It’s not a dream, but it’s not real either.

Besides, she reminds herself, why would he be at her university celebration, anyway? She hadn’t even wanted to go, but somehow felt compelled to in the end; she’d had a dress, she’d had nothing to do, and her course mates were all going. It was going to be a ball, a grand time! they’d all sworn.

And hadn’t that all been what she was after?

A ball, a grand time, a normal university life, plans, a future?

Why would he be here?

You know why, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of her head.

Despite the champagne sparking deliciously on her tongue, Caroline hasn’t yet spiralled into perfumed oblivion like she very much wants to the way everyone else is well into their third flute. She can’t seem to be able to have a good time. It’s a feeling of agitation she can’t place—a prickling in the space where short tendrils of her hair curl against the space of her neck.

Klaus, she wonders again, but then shakes the thought from her head. It’s not the right kind of feeling.

She’s disconcerted to know that her mind just conjures him out of nowhere, like magic. Like there are still needles injecting Somnacin into her arm, lulling her into the unreal. What a hold he has on her, despite her having left the game months ago.

She takes a deep breath and tries to centre herself.

Her date has gone somewhere, probably making the rounds, polite chatter and stilted compliments and the low rumble of laughter, barely showing any teeth.

It was only last year, in many a different ballroom in many a different city— she had enjoyed these sorts of events, the same burr of cellos and the simpering of violins present in every hall, though different the occasion might be. Last year, she wouldn’t be there for pleasure. Her dress wouldn’t even have been her own. Gifted, as always – and Klaus’s voice would always be in her ear, tinny through the comms device. That’s it, love – reel them in slowly now.

More people shoulder into her, drunk on the sway of the music and the end of a very difficult semester, and she accepts their tittering apologies with a modest bow of her head, but she can almost hear a voice whispering in her ear, sly.

Sweetheart, why bother with formalities of this small, insignificant room when the whole world could be hers for the taking?

Her gloved fingers tighten around the stalk of her glass, cool even through the silk. She imagines it to be the handle of her well-caressed gun.

You could do it, and she knows she could. She’s counted heads as she’d swept in, and she’s angry – furious, in fact, that she still has to. Needs to. How all these years have never really shed off of her. Just lean in, flutter your eyelashes, a drop of Somnacin in their glass—

She sets down her glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

Takes out her phone and taps a number without having to think too hard about it.

Lets it ring twice before hanging up.

Not two minutes go by before a foreign number calls her back. She picks up and says, immediately, “I need to see him.”

 —

READ THE REST:

READ ON AO3 / READ ON FF

[animetrashlord-007]

M.I;; Chapter One

Word Count;; 2.3k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Published;; 05.08.17

Edited;; 05.15.22

Summary;;

Oikawa, Sugawara, Ushijima and Kuroo attending the same college. What could go wrong?

Notes;; 

I regret everything. I just wanted Oikawa and Suga to be roommates. I also think Ushioi is a cute ship. Kuroo and Oikawa need to meet already ffs. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it ^^/

[ Next Chapter || Latest Chapter ]

Mutual Interests Masterlist

Main Masterlist

   Oikawa pinched himself.

   Nothing happened.

   He pinched himself again.

   The teacher continued to rattle on about group projects and still he didn’t wake from what had to be a nightmare. One might assume professors wouldn’t waste time forcing students to get to know each other and they’d be correct. Unfortunately for Oikawa, however, this one was foreign and new. She had positive ideals, high expectations and smiled too much, and if this were any other class Oikawa would’ve liked her. She might’ve even become his favourite teacher.

   But it wasn’t any other class – it was a cursed class.

   Glancing around the room, his eyes landed on the person he dreaded the most: Ushijima Wakatoshi. If they were grouped together, dropping out and moving to a different country would be his only option. He refused to spend any more time than necessary with his declared rival. It was a matter of principle… and pride.

   Olive eyes met his own, the larger male nodding once before facing the front once more. There was no way that his day could continue down this path; it was leading him straight into the fiery pits of Hell.

   It had started when he first reached his dorm room and everything just went downhill from there. He waited until the very last minute to move his crap into the room, not giving himself enough time to unpack before his first class started. That's when he learned his new roommate was none other than Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno. Sugawara didn't seem like a bad person… Oikawa just didn't want to spend another minute with a single person he had met in high school.

   Without Iwaizumi (and if he was feeling generous, Matsukawa and Hanamaki), high school would have been just another boring ordeal filled with mediocre memories. Therefore without Iwaizumi, college was going to be just another bland experience in the journey toward an ordinary life with a plain job and a plain house. He didn't want to be reminded of how his high school volleyball career ended too soon. He didn’t want to be reminded of how far he now had to travel just to see his best friend. Suga wasn't a bad person – he was just sure to rustle up old memories of a time Oikawa would rather leave in the past.

   Now they were stuck together for the semester.

   Considering his name was Suga, he didn't bother to sugarcoat anything. Upon learning they had the same class, he insisted they walk together. Though Oikawa didn't want to, he had no reason not to. Sugawara had a skip in his step the entire trek and never let his smile falter, a feat Oikawa admired given how damn early it was. He told him that his friend, Kuroo, and his roommate also had the same class. Oikawa couldn't fathom why he was telling him this since he didn't care about this ‘Kuroo’ or his roommate, until Suga casually mentioned as they walked into the class who the roommate was.

   Ushijima Wakatoshi.

   One of the few people in this world Oikawa couldn't pretend to like was not only going to be on his volleyball team for the foreseeable future but also in at least one of his classes.

   One class was one too many.

   In an attempt to make compatible groups with shared interests, their professor wanted them to write down two things they enjoyed. Oikawa wanted to write down volleyball but he knew Ushijima would as well. He didn't know what to write to avoid having to spend any more time than necessary around his rival. Ushijima was boring and simple, but he had to have another hobby aside from volleyball. Oikawa had no idea what his rival might write, however. He groaned.

   “Hey, Oikawa-san. Would you like to be in my group?”

   He had forgotten about the silver-haired man next to him. If he wrote volleyball, he could be put in a group with both Ushijima and Sugawara alongside some other volleyball-obsessed weirdo. Oikawa peered at the smiling face next to him. Suga had mentioned not wanting to join the team during their brief conversation through the crowded hallways on the way here. Perhaps he wasn't planning on writing down volleyball and wanted to know what Oikawa’s second interest was so they would have at least one mutual interest. Sugawara looked like a normal, nice guy. He would have two normal interests that Ushijima definitely wouldn't have because Ushijima was anything but normal. Oikawa grinned and threw up a peace sign.

   “I'd love to be in a group with you, Mr. Refreshing-kun!”

   “Aside from volleyball, what are you writing down?”

   Oikawa laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room. “I'm not putting volleyball down. I'll just write whatever you think will get us in the same group.”

   “We have to write volleyball so we can be in the same group as Kuroo-san.”

   “No, no, no. If we choose volleyball as an interest, we'll be put into a group with Ushiwaka. He'll probably put it down twice because it's the only thing he's good at,” Oikawa muttered, rolling his eyes.

   Sugawara laughed and threw his hands up in mock surrender. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Suga waving his fingers at a tall male with messy, black hair. He was trying to gain his attention but it just looked awkward and was proving to be unsuccessful. Oikawa took pity on his roommate as he scrunched up a loose piece of paper and threw it across the room.

   It landed in front of whom he assumed was Kuroo. The same Kuroo who was rooming with Ushijima, and the same Kuroo turning away from his conversation with Ushijima to face Suga with a sly grin. This Kuroo may want to be in the same group as his roommate for convenience; they would be spending a lot of time together as it is, so having to work on a group project together would be easier. Maybe Kuroo even liked Ushijima. Maybe they were already buddies. Oikawa watched Suga mouth ‘be weird’ to the lanky male, to which he received a thumbs up and a wink.

   Oikawa kicked himself. He shouldn't have gotten involved.

   “Here, let me write yours,” Suga whispered as he pulled the small slip out from under Oikawa’s fingers.

   “Whatever, just don't write volleyball.”

   Oikawa could have drowned in his regret. There was a mischievous glint in Sugawara’s eyes as he filled out both slips. His lips curled up at the corner, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk. Both his right foot and right fingers tapped, not with unease but with excitement. There was no doubt about it; Suga was up to something. Oikawa shivered as his roommate returned the papers to their teacher with a grin that spread from ear to ear. He dropped his head onto his desk with a loud thud when he saw her eyes widened and she facepalmed. Sugawara’s laugh resonated within the room and within Oikawa’s very soul. The sound was so sweet and pure, yet he knew better. Suga was no angel. He should have known better than to trust someone from Karasuno.

   They were told to read from their textbook for the remainder of the class while their professor decided on the groups. Oikawa didn't know what to expect from college but he hoped it would be different from high school. So far, however, it was worse. Much worse. He could have read from the comfort of his bed with some snacks and a warm blanket instead of being stuck in this stuffy room. He didn't need a group to pass this course, a course that was designed for toddlers no less. Who the hell assigns a ten page paper about what they did over the break? Bloody foreigners, that's who. It was the type of assignment you received in high school as busy work so the teacher could assess your skills and pretend to learn more about you. Oikawa snapped out of his reverie upon hearing the professor clear her throat.

   “Well, I've learned some interesting things about you all! I've learned some pretty disturbing things as well… You know who you are,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “There's a lot of talent and varying personalities in here. I've done my best to make compatible groups. You should have received an individual syllabus already but if not, please collect it alongside the group syllabus on the way out. You're dismissed.”

   “I feel like I just wasted precious moments of my life on absolutely nothing,” Oikawa groaned as he trudged to the front of the room. Suga slapped his back, the largest smile gracing his features, before grabbing four packets off the desk.

   “Great news, Oikawa-san! We're in the same group!”

   “Great! Who el-”

   “Kuroo-san! Ushijima-san! You're in our group, I have your packets!”

   Oikawa clenched his fists around the packet Suga handed him. Sure enough, at the top written in bright red ink was his name. Ushijima Wakatoshi. The one person in the entire class he didn't want to spend any time with was going to be a part of his group and, judging by the thickness of the packet, he would be spending quite a lot of time on projects with him.

   With narrowed eyes, he looked over to the two males that were talking amicably with Suga. Oikawa’s energy was all but drained. He wasn't a morning person as it was but this catastrophe called Monday was just too much for him. He had skipped breakfast and now his stomach ached. He couldn't muster even a small smile at this point. Oikawa sighed. He had no other choice really.

   “Professor, uh, Ross, may I–”

   “It's Rose. Professor Rose.”

   “Of course, I'm so sorry! May I speak to you about switching groups?”

   “You're part of the volleyball group, right? I don't think I'll ever be able to watch the sport the same way again…” she trembled as she recalled their ‘interests’.

   “What?”

   “Anyway, the groups are final. Now get on out of here, I have work to do and so do you!”

   His eyebrow twitched but he did what he was told. He didn't see any of the three people he was now tied to for the semester. Counting his blessings, he left the room and began to walk to his dorm. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour when a large hand clasped his shoulder. Chocolate eyes met the narrowed hazel irises of one of his many, new problems. A lopsided grin spread across the other male’s face. Oikawa hesitated, stopping in his tracks, before flashing a smile of his own. Even a child would be able to see through it but it was the best he could manage. He was just plain exhausted.

   “You must be Kuroo-chan! I'm glad we're in the same group!”

   “Sure you are,” Kuroo chuckled. “The first project is due on Wednesday so we're meeting in your dorm.”

   “Now?” Oikawa bit back his internal screaming as the raven-haired man nodded. “Let's go then!”

   They didn't speak. They didn't look at each other. They just walked in silence and Oikawa appreciated it. He had enough to worry about without trying to make small talk.

   He tried to remember when he had walked under a ladder or broken a mirror because his bad luck just wasn't easing up. In his dorm, at this very moment, Ushijima would be waiting for him. His rival was waiting for him so they could work on some assignment together. It felt like a joke. He sighed as he opened the door. His bags were still sprawled out across his side of the room as he didn't have enough time to put anything away this morning. Suga and Ushijima were sitting on the floor with some materials and notes spread out between them. Ushijima gave him a small nod before returning his attention to the work before him. Suga waved, eyes glistening as he greeted them.

   “Oikawa-san, you made it!”

   “Of course I did, Suga-chan! It's my dorm as well, remember?”

   “Let's introduce oursel-”

   “There's no need, Suga-chan! We all already know each other! I do have a question for you, though.” Oikawa hummed before his eyes darkened and his tone deepened, “What the hell did you write? I've never felt so much disgust radiate off a teacher before!”

   “I'm curious as well. Kuroo insisted on writing mine,” Ushijima interjected.

   “Oh, hold on. She stapled them to the back of my packet.”

   Suga looked over the slips of paper. Biting his lip, he handed the packet to Kuroo. Unlike his smaller, delicate friend, Kuroo didn't bother to hold back his amusement. The room reverberated with the sound of his deafening laugh. He slapped his knee twice as he tossed the packet to Ushijima, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He continued to laugh as the Ace of Shiratorizawa froze. A blush tinted his cheeks as he offered the paper to Oikawa. He couldn't maintain eye contact and averted his gaze, earning a scoff from Oikawa. His chocolate eyes narrowed as he read through the ridiculous ‘interests’ listed. One thing caught his eye and he felt a surge of anger flow through his veins.

   Ushijima Wakatoshi: Volleyball. Volleyball. My life is volleyball. Oh, and I like to be degraded and humiliated.    Kuroo Tetsurou: Being called Daddy. Spanking. Being spanked. Volleyball is pretty fun too.    Sugawara Koushi: Volleyball is great! I also have an interest in boys that wear collars and beg for me.    Oikawa Tooru: I enjoy being choked. It's the only way I can get off! Volleyball is my life!!

   “I told you not to write volleyball!” Oikawa snapped, lips turning upward in a snarl.

   Throwing the packet at Suga, Oikawa fell to the floor. He ignored the other setter’s melodic laughter that was in stark contrast to Kuroo’s hearty chuckles. A warm hand rubbed his back. He gazed over at Ushijima. A slight frown tugged at his lips as he nodded and Oikawa felt his irritation seeping away. Ushijima wasn't adept at comforting others and he looked weird. Yet the sight lightened his mood all the same and, to both of their surprise, Oikawa smiled.

[ Next Chapter ]

[freshbling]

Quarantine Time

Tagged by: @rolie-polie-yeolie thanks ✨✨

Rules: answer these questions and tag 5 mutuals

1.Flowers or chocolates? I like both but if someone gives me white chocolate that’s the end

2.Between day and night I prefer: day but not in summer

3.My favourite drink: frappe and tea

4.Between sunrise and sunset I prefer: sunset all the way

5.Between dogs and cats I prefer: dogs a million times, I love those balls of love and fluff

6.The vegetable i hate the most: is onion a vegetable?

7.My favourite sound: whenever I pet my dog she makes this sound of pleasure, almost like a purr and I absolutely adore it

8.The first thing I notice about people: their faces like I do a full scan

9.Would you prefer horror or fantasy? Horror baby

10. I’d want to be stuck in a lift with? (choose opposite gender lol): there is no way I want to get stuck in a lift with a man

11. What city or town you’d like to live in? A Nordic country, they seem to be having a good time and have amazing views

12.What I value most in life: tranquility

13.If I could learn any skill, it’d be: to play the violin or the piano

14.Between the beach and the mountains, I prefer: the beach, I don’t like how it makes my hair all curly but I love the sound of the sea

15.I’d love to get marry in: my dreams, that ain’t happening irl

16.My hidden talent: I genuinely have no idea

17.If I could bring anyone back to life, I’d bring back: my Tita

18.Why? Cause I miss her

19.Rainy or sunny day? Cloudy cause I hate to drive in the rain but I also hate the sun so

20.Who’s the real model of your life? My mom in most aspects

21.How I relax after a hard day: go home to sleep or just lay in bed listening to music or watching some yt videos

22.I like the way I look: is this a question? I guess I do, tbh I don’t have much to complain about

23.My most favourite facial features of myself is: my nose and cheekbones

24.My most favourite part of my body is: hmm my face? Idk

25.If I could change anything about my body: I need some longer legs please

26.If yes, what’s it: dude be more specific on how to answer this lol

27.If I could change something from my past: nextttttt

28.How many piercing I have: I have my ears pierced but I would like more the thing is I’m afraid of needles :)

29.I like makeup? Yep

30.I wear make up everyday: not since March cause of the whole pandemic but I used to wear some concealer in my under eyes and mascara

31.My skin type is: mixt, oily in the t zone and kinda dry in my cheeks

32.My skin tone: Idk my mom says is coffee with milk lol So I would say medium brown?

33.My hair colour: dark brown

34.My height: 160 cm

35.My age: 19

36.My birthday: September 15

37.My best friend: I met her in high school, she is very nice

38.I have a pet or more: I have a miniature schnauzer, she mad cute

39.If i don’t, I’d like to adopt: another dog tbh

40.Video games or social media: social media, the only game I play is superstar pledis lol

41.I’ve visited outside my country: not that I recall

42.I’ve an innocent/dirty mind: dirty, I get all the dirty jokes too quickly, shame on me

43.Someone proposed me or asked me out? Ah quarantine flings, I said yes to the dude but then it got too intense and toxic so I said never mind lol

44.If yes, then I liked it and accepted or the opposite: I already answer ffs

45.Do you follow some celebrities’ fashion: noup, I just wear whatever I like

46.What do you think about your fashion sense: it’s whatever, like I said I just wear whatever I like so ofc I think is good

47.You found someone copying your fashion: mmm I don’t own it so this is a pretty dumb question

48.You Can do your makeup properly: yes, I do my make up whenever I have an event

49.You go or used to go with makeup to school: I’ve been doing the same since high school, some concealer and mascara and sometimes a little blush and highlighter

50.What colour suits you best? My friends say that green so I trust them in it

51.Finally, how is quarantine going? I hate it, I hate classes online and right now that I’m on summer vacay I can’t do anything fun and the next semester is about to start and I haven’t decided if I want to enroll to it or take a break until we can get back to uni, I hate it here

Am I gonna tag the same people as always? Yes, I’m so sorry 😫

@ahnscvity @fangirlonmain @ana0072

And that’s about it, I hope you are having a wonderful day 🥰

[sun-summoning]

Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering what happened to the fic the grad fad? I loved it but I can't seem to find it on FF. Thank you! :)

you know what i read this and had a moment of “wtf is the grad fad” followed by “it sounds SO FAMILIAR” then i looked through stuff on my computer and found a doc with that title that was last updated in 2013 and thought “oh god that’s when i graduated university wtf was this fic about???” i assume i deleted it off ffn back in the day bc i knew i’d never finish it.

anyway here’s all that i found:

-

Note: This is my last year of university and I’m actually quite sad, so this is mostly for my lawlz. But I promise I will have a plot.Warning(s): AU, going by my own university’s calendar Pairings: SasuSaku, NaruInoDisclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

-

SEPTEMBERi need a place to live

-

“Can I live with you?”

Sakura needed a home.

She was luckier than most people with her parents living just an hour and a half’s commute away from Konoha University, but she would rather pay rent every month than go through the two trains and two buses and twenty minute walk she spent her entire freshman year dealing with. She spent her second and third years living with Tenten, but that recently-graduated, totally lame, Judas loser decided to take the Next Step in her Relationship and Move In with her boyfriend, hence Sakura’s problem.

Sakura was homeless. Sort of.

Karin only raised an eyebrow at her before eyeing her one-bedroom apartment. There was a solarium, yes, but those doors were see-through and offered no privacy. “Seriously?”

But Sakura would not be moved. She nodded eagerly. “Honestly, I’d be down for a closet. Please? Lend me that room?”

“Fine.”

And so that was that.

Except it wasn’t.

It worked well enough, Sakura supposed. At the beginning, that is, when Sakura was still enjoying the remaining bits of frosh week and the constant keggers going on. On the first week of class—when all that happened was syllabi-reading and maybe an introductory lab or two that Sakura didn’t need—there were Mojito Mondays and Because I Freaking Feel Like it Tuesdays to go along with the traditional Thirsty Thursdays. For the first week of class, Sakura mostly came home to her glass room at Karin’s home in a lovely state of drunk or delirious.

But then she started coming home sober.

Second week struck and so did its readings upon readings upon readings. Sakura scrambled from the KU Bookstore to the shop for cheaper used books a few blocks away from the university where all the hipsters lived. She would then go to the printing press on the other side of the city for that course pack, and then to another printing press on the other side of the city for another course pack. Then she would settle down in the library with a chai tea latte and lemon poppy seed muffin and shut off her phone and get her readings done.

(Not that anyone was texting her, of course. Ino was basically ignoring the world and Naruto still felt like it was move-in time and Sakura knew for a fact he had a keg at his house and Sasuke and her basically didn’t talk unless they were forced to.)

In her second week of September, Sakura would come home extremely late, with aching shoulders and arms full of books.

In her second week of September, all Sakura would want to come home to was a cozy bed and ugly bunny slippers and Netflix. Instead, she came home to Karin’s bra on the sneakers Sakura left by the door and the beautifully permanent sight of Karin and Shikamaru doing the deed on the couch.

Sakura just sighed. “Guys, like, I eat my breakfast on that couch!”

They barely noticed her before Karin let out a squeak and they casually moved their canoodling over to her bedroom.

“Seriously?!” Sakura yelled, dropping her book bag and mourning the sight of the beloved Lazy Boy, forever tainted by Shikamaru’s naked ass, cute as it may have been.

Sakura plopped down on the carpet, sitting right in front of the recliner.

This wasn’t going to work.

-

“Can I live with you?”

Sakura twitched when she got no response. Ino had been like this all summer. She was in I’m-taking-my-LSAT-therefore-nothing-exists-but-these-LSAT-notes mode and essentially drowning everyone and everything. There was no time for double fisting the red sangria and the white sangria at Red Room after a long day of class, nor was there time to listen to Sakura propose potential research paper topics. Ino had quit her job and her social life in favour of studying, studying, studying.

“Ino?”

Ino had a pretty swanky place, actually – for a studio apartment, that is. But it was surprisingly large for a kitchen-living-room-bedroom hybrid monster. It even had a balcony!

“Yo! Blondie!”

Finally, Ino looked up. “What was that, Sakura?”

Sakura pouted.

They were at the coffee shop near the Bio labs on the west end of campus. Ino had only agreed to Sakura’s invitation when Sakura offered to buy her sleepless friend some coffee. Apparently the implied “you’ll have to listen to me when I speak” part of that deal went unnoticed, however. Great.

“Can I live with you?” Sakura repeated.

Ino didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

“What?” Sakura couldn’t help it. Her jaw literally dropped. She was ready to prepare some grand speech about friendship and bonds and love and all that jazz that Naruto would have been super proud of, but Ino waved her hand – granted, she looked more like she was trying to swat away some irritating bug.

“Sakura,” she said flatly, “consider the size of my apartment.”

“It’s fun-sized,” Sakura reasoned. “Super fun-sized.”

“No.”

“But I’m homeless!”

“You live like an hour away—”

“AND A HALF.”

“—you’ll manage.”

“But I’m homeless!” Sakura repeated pathetically, hoping that if she pouted Ino might have been moved.

But that was not the case. Ino’s eyes were already back on her binder of notes for her LSAT studying. “Nope.”

“You’re a heartless, wretched beast,” Sakura said. She gathered her things and made sure to grab the caramel macchiato she spent a grand four dollars on for some traitor. She stuck her tongue out when Ino let out an indignant cry for having her coffee stolen. “Sorry, I don’t buy drinks for jerks!”

“Just commute, you lazy baby!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

-

“Can I live with you?”

Naruto didn’t look even remotely surprised to see Sakura on his front porch with a bright pink gym bag full of her clothes and a backpack that looked ready to burst at the seams. And he didn’t even want to think about how heavy that other bag pulling at her left arm was, considering all the textbooks sticking out of it.

Like the good friend he was, Naruto grabbed the bag of books and the bag of clothes.

“Come on,” he said, moving to the side so she could enter the house.

“You’re the best, Naruto!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Sakura had been to Naruto’s place many times. It was a house in the so-called “student ghetto” just off of campus with an open-concept main floor and a fair number of bedrooms. If Sakura remembered correctly, Naruto had the big room in the basement, Suigetsu called dibs on the attic, and Sasuke and Shikamaru had rooms on the second-level. But now that Neji had moved in with Tenten—

“Am I getting Neji’s old room?” Sakura asked.

Naruto nodded, guiding her up the stairs even though she already knew where to go. “Yeah, I figured you’d be here eventually.”

“What?” Sakura felt tears spring in her eyes. She couldn’t help it. She was tired and stressed and her shoulders were killing her. “You saved a room for me?” She was in awe of how sweet he was.

But Naruto just shrugged and looked away. Sakura saw the way his cheeks reddened though. “It’s not a big deal. We just didn’t bother looking for another guy. I had a feeling things wouldn’t work out at Karin’s when Shikamaru basically stopped coming home all of first week…”

Sakura still tackled him into a hug, forcing him to drop her bags. She pulled away and smiled. “You are literally the best, did you know that?”

He grinned back. “Obviously.” But a thought came to mind and his smile waned. “Um… there’s just one thing…”

“Yeah?” Sakura was too busy marvelling at the fact that her new room came with walls (and a bed and drawers and a closet and even a calendar) to notice his frown. “Don’t worry about rent. I got my job at the registrar’s office again so I’m good.”

“It’s not that.”

Sakura finally looked at him. “What is it?” She suddenly looked equally as frantic. “Oh.”

“Are you okay with living with your ex?”

“Obvously.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“I figured.”

“Meh.” Sakura shrugged. She took her bag from Naruto and opened it up to beginning the process of moving in all over again. “I’m kind of homeless, so I’ll make due. And you know how I am during school. I basically just live at campus during the year.”

Naruto laughed and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “we just have one more year of this crap, right?”

Sakura glanced at the calendar and nodded.

“Just one more year.”

-

OCTOBERi need reference letters

-

So it was October.

October came to mean a lot of things to Naruto: midterms, essays, Thanksgiving a.k.a. Turkey Day, pumpkin spice everything, breaking out the awesome orange scarf Sakura knitted for him years ago, pretty leaves, and so much more.

Now the boys didn’t usually maintain their house unless someone was coming to visit. Fine, the tiny front lawn would see a mowing every other week or so, and the backyard was only managed if there was going to be a party. And then the inside was divided that every man would take care of his own place, the kitchen would always be cleaned by whoever made whatever mess, and the bathroom would go through a weekly cycle of sorts. But things like the broom and the vacuum were only broken out for special occasions.

“Guys!”

In the living room, Sakura was sketching silly outfits on the bare bodies in her anatomy textbook in lieu of studying, while Naruto made his own efforts to procrastinate pretty obvious as he made a tower of all the novels and plays and poetry anthologies he had to read for the semester. So far, his stack was balancing at a rather noteworthy twenty-two. Shikamaru, on the other hand, was making paper balls with his notes and throwing them at Naruto’s tower.

They all looked up at Suigetsu’s frantic shout.

“What is it?” Sakura asked. She had the grace to look annoyed by the interruption to her ‘hard work.’

“Sasuke’s mom is here!”

Immediately, Naruto and Shikamaru rose, their eyes wide and their arms near flailing. Sakura raised an eyebrow when Naruto shrieked. His book tower had fallen over when he stood up so fast.

“Clean that up!” Suigetsu yelled, pointing.

Naruto anxiously did so by pushing all of the books under the couch. At the same time, Shikamaru was taking all the randomly strewn about mugs and plates and – oh god – beer bottles and hiding them in the video game drawer. Suigetsu was keeping a careful eye on the driveway from the window by the stairs.

Sakura could only frown. “What are you guys doing?”

“Sasuke’s mom is here,” Shikamaru pointed out.

Sakura looked at the boys like they were idiots and, for the most part, they returned the look. Suigetsu finally sighed. “Sakura, have you ever seen Sasuke’s mom?”

“Yes,” she said. “In fact, I—”

Naruto shushed her. “Sakura, haven’t you heard? Sasuke’s mom has got it going on!”

Sakura did not look amused, but that didn’t stop Naruto and the other boys from opening the door and yelling their hellos. They all ignored Sasuke’s knowing glare as they took his bags from him and all warmly greeted the lovely Mikoto Uchiha. They exchanged pleasantries and thanked Mikoto wholeheartedly when she graced them with a whole turkey for the house – her little Thanksgiving present to them.

“Oh, Mrs. Uchiha, you didn’t have to do that,” Suigetsu told her sweetly.

But the older woman just smiled and waved the matter off. “Oh, but you boys need to be properly fed!”

Sakura could only pray she had that kind of decency when she was older and sending her son off to live with his fellow cavemen. Sakura eyed Mikoto Uchiha’s beautiful cashmere sweater and her form fitting skirt and could actually kind of understand why her friends were all salivating like dogs. She suddenly felt incredibly insecure in her yoga pants and the sweater she ninety percent belonged to Shikamaru. God, she was such a mess, Sakura realized. At least she wasn’t wearing her UGGs…

Dammit.

“Sakura Haruno, is that you!”

Sakura blinked. “Huh?”

Finally, the boys got out of the way and Mikoto rushed over and hugged her. “Oh, darling!” Mikoto let go enough to look Sakura over and frown disapprovingly. “You’ve lost weight!” she pointed out gravely. “Why haven’t you been eating, missy? This better not be over some stupid boy, because let me tell you—”

Sakura flushed. “Nope!” she interrupted. “I just…” Sakura laughed awkwardly and took a step away from Mikoto. “I just, um, have been busy and haven’t really been sleeping properly…”

Mikoto immediately turned around to face the boys. “And why haven’t you all been making sure Sakura is eating correctly? Hm? Shikamaru? You’re the responsible one!”

Shikamaru froze for a moment with the attention on him. “Um.” He chuckled. “Well, I haven’t really been around either, Mrs. Uchiha. But I’ll definitely make sure our little Sakura eats three square meals a day.”

“Yes, you better!” Mikoto took her turkey out of Naruto’s hands and deposited it into Sakura’s despite the blond’s protests. She winked at Sakura. “Eat up, sweetie.”

Sakura smiled. “Thank you.”

Mikoto gave her son one last kiss on the cheek before saying her goodbyes to everyone. When she was finally gone, Naruto let out a low whistle and made some flattering but inappropriate comment that led to Sasuke punching him in the stomach and stomping away. Still wincing, Naruto hurriedly stole the turkey away from Sakura and brought it to the kitchen.

That was one last thing October meant to Naruto: Mikoto Uchiha sending over a whole turkey for their little house of broke students.

.

.

But the gesture of turkey-giving didn’t arouse the same happy feelings in Sakura. As Suigetsu thoughtfully took a bag of Sasuke’s on his way upstairs, Shikamaru volunteered to walk Mikoto to her car, and Naruto took the turkey for some “alone time,” Sakura went back to her anatomy textbook and suddenly felt incredibly lonely.

Sakura had spent Thanksgiving dinner with the Uchiha family once, back when she and Sasuke were still together. She got along with them all to the point that Mikoto would literally text Sakura at least every other day just to make sure she was okay or to talk. Ino thought that was weird, but Sakura justified things with that Ino had never been in a real relationship – not one that included bonding with your partner’s parent. And when Sasuke dumped Sakura, Mikoto immediately asked Sakura if she was okay. But Sakura soon began to distance herself from the woman, mostly out of propriety, and seeing her in person today made her feel horrible.

Sighing, Sakura picked up her mug of sangria and whined when she realized it was empty. She grudgingly went to the kitchen and took the bottle out of the fridge. After a moment of consideration, she decided to learn from past mistakes and drink from the bottle and skip the mug.

“Well done,” she told herself after a sip.

“Sakura, it’s ten in the morning.”

She joked and spun around. Sasuke was leaning against the counter with a cup of tea and judgemental frown.

“Um.” Sakura lowered the bottle and reconsidered her mug. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He then took an economics textbook out of his backpack and went over to the couch, sitting beside her scrawled dresses and flower hats. She cringed, but he didn’t seem to notice her doodles. Sakura slowly made her way back to her book and sat as close to the edge as she could, at this point gulping down the sangria.

Seriously? Sakura thought. That was how he wanted to go about things? He wanted to ignore what happened three weeks ago that essentially set the shroud of awkward that hung over them whenever they saw each other in the kitchen or the hall or the living room?! What the actual fu—

Ugh.

When the silence became too much for her to concentrate in, she turned to Sasuke and found him already looking at her.

“How was your break?” she asked. Granted, KU didn’t really offer a “break” so much as one single day.

“Good.”

“What did you do?”

“Helped my mom cook,” Sasuke said.

Sakura grinned. “Since when do you cook?”

“Excuse you, but if I recall correctly, I’m not the one who set off the smoke alarm from boiling water.” Her eyes widened and he smirked.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Still blushing, she kicked him, but he only grabbed her ankle to steady her. “Hmph. Well, what did you cook?”

“Mashed potatoes.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and that’s just such a feat. Look at you Top Chef Wonder.” She giggled at her own not particularly funny joke and told herself it was way too early in the day to already be tipsy. But from what she could remember, Sasuke actually was a great cook. “Is that all you made?” she continued.

“I made a pie, too, actually,” he said. Then he pushed her leg off his lap and went back to the kitchen. The bounce of her foot on the cushion was what made her realize the Sasuke had actually been drawing nonsensical things on her calf andandand—

No. No, she told herself. This. Is not. Allowed.

Finally, he came back with a Tupperware and a fork, handing them to her.

“What is this?” she asked, drawing her legs in and sitting up straight.

“Pie.”

“Huh?”

“Pie,” he repeated. “I made pumpkin pie. It’s Itachi’s favourite and I remembered that it’s yours too so I brought a slice back for you.” Sasuke shrugged and all but buried himself in his economics textbook.

Sakura smiled at the gesture. “Thank you,” she mumbled, poking at the pie.

He glanced at her but saw her focused on the dessert. “You’re welcome,” he replied into his book.

And after finishing the slice, Sakura picked up her own book. The two sat on the couch for a few hours simply reading in a comfortable silence.

.

.

October also came to mean sucking up. October meant heading over to office hours (even the ones that started at 9AM) and making an impression and getting on your professor’s good side so that at the end of the semester, when they were determining Naruto’s participation grade, they would remember his bright hair and bright clothes at each and every lecture.

But this year, their final year, meant going to office hours would no longer just be about proposing separate essay topics or clarifying anything said in class.

This year meant reference letters.

Reference letters for grad school.

But those also meant office hours, which, with Naruto’s luck, meant 9AM with Dr. Kakashi Hatake – which actually kind of sort of meant 10AM considering the man was always late…

Still, that was early considering said hours were on a Friday.

“Let’s move, lazyass!”

“But I’m tired,” Naruto whined, lagging behind Sakura. “Can’t we just be death eaters?”

“No!”

“Or we can just be homeless,” he pointed out. They were on their way to the Humanities Building where Sakura was going solely as Naruto’s moral support while he asked for letters of recommendation. Naruto Uzumaki was going to graduate school, but… well, he was sort of too much of a wimp to approach his favourite professors alone. Likewise, Naruto may or may not have treated her to slash bribed her with a delicious lemon poppy seed muffin and chai tea latte for breakfast.

“I have worked too hard all these years to be homeless,” Sakura said between sips of her drink.

“Fine, not homeless, per se.” Nevertheless, Naruto continued along to the Humanities Building. He stopped the oblivious Sakura from walking into the doors, knowing that for whatever annoying reason, the automatic doors weren’t so automatic. He knew. He may or may not have walked into said doors before…

“Oh?”

“We can live in a box,” Naruto told her with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Just ask for your letters, Naruto.”

“I don’t know what to say!” But they were already in the elevator.

“You say ‘Hey, Kakashi, I really want to come back to KU for another year to do more readings and write more papers and lead more seminars yada yada yada.’ He’ll love it.” The sad thing was that Sakura wasn’t joking. She’d had Dr. Hatake in her first-year “Literature for our Time” course with Naruto and from her own visits and talks with the man, she’d come to know what he was like.

And well… Naruto looked like he was considering.

“Do you honestly think that would work?”

“I have full faith.”

She genuinely did.

Sakura herself had been going with the more formal approach of: “Dr. Whatever, would you be willing to write me a positive letter recommendation for X Med School?” Most of her professors were very familiar with her and her study habits and her amazing work, so Sakura didn’t actually need to put the operative “positive” in her requests, but it didn’t hurt to stay safe.

But with a professor like Kakashi, things would work out fine for Naruto.

They stood outside of Kakashi’s office and Sakura gave Naruto a pat on the back. “Do you have any idea what you’d want to research though?”

Naruto nodded. “Gothic literature!” he told her eagerly, looking ready to actually tell her more. “I’d like to look at the late eighteenth century and then maybe at the revival of Gothic literature in contemporary times. I mean, Gothic work is just so prevalent nowadays and—”

“Don’t tell me this stuff,” Sakura interrupted. She pointed to Kakashi’s open door. “Tell him!”

“Oh, right…” Naruto laughed awkwardly. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You can do this.”

“I can!”

“You can!”

“…I CAN’T.”

Fed up, Sakura pushed him into Kakashi’s office.

.

.

“Okay, so that went better than expected.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “I told you.”

“Yeah, I know…” Naruto shrugged. “The entire asking-thing is just… nerve-wracking, I suppose.”

The two were at one of their favourite off campus haunts that served Sakura’s favourite sangria and made some of the greatest ramen Naruto had ever tasted. Sure, it was only noon, but it was never to early for wine and whining – at least, that was Sakura’s philosophy. And well, it had served her well for the past three years so…

Besides, it was Friday. Why not get nice and day drunk?

“So what schools are you applying to?” she asked Naruto.

“KU, of course,” Naruto listed through a grimace. “But… I don’t think I’ll get in. KU is so evil, Sakura-chan!”

She nodded. “Oh, I know.” While completing an undergraduate degree at KU was a magical feat in their humble opinions, to complete one and be accepted into the university’s graduate programs would be hard considering the CGPAs most KU students usually escaped with. While Sakura knew she wouldn’t have any problems, she did know that Naruto might. “Where else?”

“Not sure.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “What? Naruto, don’t just apply to one grad school if you’re set on doing your Master’s!”

“You don’t think I can get in?”

Sakura sighed. “It’s not like that,” she said, “it’s just that these are competitive programs. You should at least apply to more than one. I mean, what would you do if you didn’t get into KU?”

“…become a death eater?”

“You are so—so—” She sighed again and finished off her sangria. She poured another glass and sipped on that. “You’re like Ino.”

“What? I don’t like Ino!”

“Huh?” Sakura laughed. “No, I said you’re like her, not that you like her. That’d be weird.” In her semi-drunken state that was starting to become Sakura’s default state, she missed the red on Naruto’s cheeks.

“Well, how is Ino, anyway? I haven’t seen we had that kegger in September.” Both of them cringed, remembering their own personal awkward mistakes from that night. Naruto made a face. “Yeah. Ino.”

But Sakura snorted. “Who’s Ino? Oh! Did you mean Ino, the girl who’s apparently my bestie?” Sakura looked a little bit bitter. Maybe she was. Maybe she’s been in dire need of a girlfriend for the past two months but Ino hasn’t really been that great of a friend. “Yeah, she’s studying. She basically won’t have any human contact aside from lectures until she takes her LSATs in December.”

“I see.” Naruto noticed the sad look on Sakura’s face and wasn’t sure if she wanted a serious attempt at comfort or some kind of joke. “Well…” Naruto shrugged. “At least she has plans?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said with a nod. “I guess I just miss her.”

“What law schools will she apply to?”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW THAT!” Sakura yelled. Her face crumpled and she took a long swig of her drink. “I miss her, Naruto. I know I’m being irrational and that my period is probably coming—”

“Thank you.”

“—but I mean it’s like she just doesn’t care about anyone right now!” Sakura refilled her glass and finished that in one go. Naruto subtly ordered another pitcher and Sakura continued: “I mean, I’m not trying to be clingy. I get it. She has stuff to do. But like, I’m living with Sasuke! HOW HAS SHE NOT EVEN ASKED ME IF THAT IS REMOTELY OKAY?!”

“Huh?” Naruto blinked. “I thought you said that you were okay with that… Sort of.”

“I am!”

“What?” God. Why were women so confusing?!

“I don’t care about Sasuke, Naruto!” Sakura looked at him like he was the one acting crazy. “What I’m saying is that Ino—my Ino—would have texted me the first night asking if I reacquainted myself with Sasuke, followed by an unnecessary amount of wink-faces! Current Ino responds to my text messages days late and never wants to hang out. Like I’m not even allowed to go to the library with her because she thinks I’ll distract her!”

“…you kind of are a huge distraction.” Which she was. As surprising as it was, Sakura was actually the one between the two of them that could be found not working (but still, unfairly enough, maintaining a 4.0 CGPA, so like what the hell).

“NOT THE POINT.”

Their next pitcher arrived and Sakura’s face lit up. “I’m just sad, I guess,” she admitted forlornly. “Or tired. A bit of both.” She sighed and suddenly looked a bit bashful. “I’m sorry. I’ve been ranting all this time. How are you and Sasuke doing?”

Naruto levelled her with a flat stare. “You make us sound like a couple.”

“Aren’t you?”

“SAKURA-CHAN!”

She giggled and Naruto let her. Mocking his “bromance” with Sasuke was always something that could make Sakura smile so he let it go. But suddenly the smile fell and she adopted a serious look. A bad serious look.

“Hey!” she yelled, grabbing his hand on the table. “Are you single?”

Naruto felt very, very uncomfortable with her hand on his. “What?”

“I have this friend,” she clarified. “She’s seen you in a lot of my photos and has probably stalked you on every possible social network. She thinks you’re really good-looking. She’s a super sweet girl and I think the two of you would hit it off really well.”

“Are you…” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth. “Are you trying to set me up?”

“No. Maybe. Yes.”

“What?” Naruto laughed at the mere idea. “What’s her name?”

“Hinata Hyuuga. Really smart, really sweet, really pretty. You’d like her.” Sakura pulled out her phone and logged into her Facebook to find the girl’s profile. She was about to show Naruto a picture but he covered the phone and placed it face-down on the table. “What?”

“I trust your judgement.”

Sakura blinked, utterly astonished. “So… you’ll go on a date with her?”

Musing over all the nothing that had been going on his life as of late, Naruto nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go on a date with her.”

-

NOVEMBERi need to go to sleep

-

November was the worst. November was when you got back your midterms or assignments, cried, rechecked said midterms or assignments, cried again, and then drowned your sorrows in your alcoholic beverage of choice.

For Naruto that was beer.

And as Naruto whined over the grade he got on the paper he wrote the morning it was due, Sakura rubbed his back with one hand and scrolled through the Recently Added section of Netflix.

“It could be worse,” Sakura said.

“How could it have been worse?” Naruto asked her, his eyes still trained on the bolded 72 at the bottom of the page.

“Naruto, a 72 by KU standards is actually pretty damn good!”

“Oh, shut up Miss 4.0. Leave me alone. Leave me to wallow in my sorrow and beer. There is nothing left for me. Alas, woe is me!”

Sasuke, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as comforting. “Listen, dumbass. You passed. Passing is good, remember? You’re fine.”

“PASSING ISN’T ENOUGH FOR GRAD SCHOOL, SASUKE.”

He sat down beside Sakura, leaving her between the two boys. He handed her a mug of sangria and passed a brand new beer over to Naruto, letting him drink it between awkward whining noises that mimicked some sort of dying animal. Sakura looked ready to say some more words of consolation but Sasuke shook his head, signalling for her to stop. “Leave him be,” Sasuke said. “He’s always like this when he gets back a grade.”

“I know but…” Sakura glanced at Naruto. “He looks so pitiful.”

“I AM LITERALLY RIGHT BESIDE YOU, SAKURA-CHAN.” Naruto sat up straight, letting the blanket he’d wrapped himself in fall back a little. He stole the remote away from her and began to look through the files of movies and shows from Suigetsu’s hard drive that they had connected to the television. “My life is over.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Your life isn’t over.”

“It is.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Listen, Princess,” Naruto hissed, now glaring at Sasuke. “Not all of us have names that all but grant entry into programs and internships and all those other pretty things.”

Sasuke took offence to that. “I still need to maintain a good GPA to get in, Naruto. My name isn’t everything.”

Naruto didn’t seem to have any proper response to go with that so he simply stood up, tightened his burrito of a blanket, and waddled away. He came back a few seconds later to grab his beer, but still gave Sasuke and Sakura one last look of contempt before leaving.

“Such a baby,” Sakura mumbled when he was gone.

---

ALRIGHT AND THAT IS WHERE IT ENDED. i did find this though. i assume it was supposed to be part of the november chapter, which i never finished:

“Oh,” she said, understanding his look of awkwardness. She rolled her eyes. “No, this isn’t a gift with some meaning behind it, Sasuke. I mean, you made me pie, remember? It’s not like it had some implied Sakura-you-goddess-please-take-my-unworthy-self-back between the bites, right?” When he failed to reply, Sakura only frowned before shrugging the matter off. “The point is, this is a gift for you from me, Sakura the Friend.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Friend?”

She nodded. “Well we are friends, aren’t we?” She preferred ‘friends’ to ‘two people stuck being around each other despite lingering awkwardness simply because they had way too many mutual friends.’ “Sasuke?”

“Yeah,” he eventually replied. “We’re friends.”

Sakura grinned and patted the tablet. “Then accept my gift, friend.” She winked, emphasizing the word weirdly.

“Okay, don’t ever do that again.”

and then this the outline:

December: i need to study

Go sledding at the university 

Have a snowball fight on the field 

Everyone goes out to celebrate after Ino’s LSAT and get unbelievably drunk 

Sasuke and Sakura have gotten back together, which Naruto knows but doesn’t call them on 

Goes to his house for Christmas because her parents are travelling

Ino and Naruto hang out 

NYE party at the house 

Ends with Sakura checking her KU email and realizing there is a problem with her potential graduation

January: i need another vacation

Sakura ends up being in a Jane Austen course with Naruto because she was told she needed a humanities credit

February: i need to fix my habits

Go on a road trip for Reading Week

Come home Sunday night and scramble

March: i just need to graduate

Naruto and Sakura discuss their Big Boy/Girl jobs and the likeliness of them 

Naruto reveals that he’s seriously dating Ino 

Sakura is happy for him and tells him about Sasuke 

“I know. It’s not hard to tell. Why do you think rent isn’t so bad in that house? The walls are paper thin, you bitch.”

Dread paying back student loans 

Sakura tells him she’s nervous because Sasuke is studying abroad next year whereas Sakura’s dream school is KU’s med school – will they break up again 

Doesn’t tell him she plans to backpack for the year

“Do you realize this is like… the last time?”

April: i need to get in

Acceptance letters

May: i need my damn grades

Go on another road trip to unwind

June: i need to go back

Convocation

and i found this, which i think is meant to be in the january chapter:

“There is something very, very wrong with a situation if you are taking a class to bum notes off of Naruto.”

Sakura merely laughed as she spread out some sheets of paper and pretended to read them. She still had another two hours of work and she wasn’t particularly inclined to, well, work, and Tenten—the girl she shared the front desk with—didn’t really care whether she did anything or not.

“I know that sounded really bad,” Sakura said, “but I just need a Humanities credit.”

“Still!” Tenten urged, not even looking away from her computer screen. “Naruto.”

“He’s not as dumb as everyone thinks he is, you know.”

Tenten considered this before shrugging. “I suppose. He has been at KU for the past four years and is even graduating on time.”

“Exactly.” Sakura moved onto the mug of pens on her desk, testing each one to see which still had ink. “And he’s actually really good at Lit courses.”

“He should be,” Tenten replied with a snort. “I mean, that is what he’s specializing in.” Her chair squeaked when she leaned back and pushed away from her desk to roll over near Sakura. Their desk was L-shaped with each of them on one side. “What course is it again?” she asked. But being the fidgety person that she was, Tenten moved to put away some student files. She climbed onto the stool and alphabetizing. “It was something cheesy.”

“Austen and Her Contemporaries.” Sakura hadn’t gotten past her first word before Tenten burst out into giggles. She couldn’t help but smirk when another thought came to mind. “Want to know something even better?”

Tenten gave Sakura her full attention. “Um, obviously.”

“Sasuke’s taking it with us too.”

oh man.

thank you for asking about this fic because i had absolutely no recollection of it but as i read all these docs, i realized how trashy i was in undergrad. and how frightened i was of graduating! just reading this makes me remember how afraid of growing up i used to be -- of not being a student and having to get a job and running out of time. but man i’ve been so much happier since then. the fear of “running out of time” is always around but i also have lost the will to care about people and/or things as the years have gone by. 

ok sorry that totally wasn’t your question lmao. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE ROLLERCOASTER OF THAT OUTLINE. 

how did it end? well, everyone graduated. presumably everyone got into the post-grad programs of their dreams (although funding??). the naruto arc was totally based on me in my 4th year and his plans are NOT where my future went lmao. although to be clear, future him is definitely satisfied with where his life took him. ss and ni double dated happily ever after. maybe. probably.

[nnegan13]

hi!! this is gonna sound weird but um do you ever think what ele and edo's futures are gonna be like? logistically speaking. like if edoardo goes to Cornell, which he absolutely should bcoz one should never forgo academic opportunities for a S.O, then id rather ele not follow him leaving behind her friends and family etc. sooo how would they survive long distance for 3/4 years? or maybe like once ele graduates school she too legs it to Cornell or some other uni in the states so theyre in the 1/2

same country at least? will they finally return to Italy at some point? what age do you think they’ll tie the knot? also what do you think ele would study? botany seems likely but I hate that subject with a burning passion so hard no. journalism maybe? I hope this ask doesn’t freak u out lol I worry over them like they’re actual people but anyways grazie e ciao! 2/2

‘do I ever think about incantava’s future’ know that I am always thinking about incantava’s future all. the. damn. time. this got real long real fast and is mostly me rambling and speculating so it’s all under the cut 

thank you for the ask and know that I am 100% not freaked in the slightest bc I love talking about incantava and I also worry about them like actual people so we are in the same boat and having a grand old time anon 

I love the idea that edo goes to Cornell for his undergrad and then comes back to Europe (or even Italy if we’re getting real hopeful) for a masters. with ele, I think she would definitely explore the idea of going to a school in the States, but I don’t think Cornell would be her first choice. that’s mostly cuz I HC her as being way into biology and there are definitely other universities in the US that are better for that than Cornell. no idea which one she’d go to tho. however, I can also see her happily going to school in Italy or another European country especially bc paying for school there would be a breeze compared to tuition in the US aha. that being said, I can see both of them going on to graduate school no matter where they do their undergrads.

as for the long distance, this is edo and ele we’re talking about. edo waited a whole fucking year, going out with absolutely no one, for a girl that for all intents and purposes hated him at the time, had a long term girlfriend even with his history of being a fuckboy (and as having an older brother who’s a total fuckboy, I will tell you that they take girlfriends very seriously), and considered ele his family after only having actually dated her for like three weeks. ele doesn’t need her boyfriend, she chooses to have him, and from the year and a half between her ex and edo, we know she was perfectly fine not having to date anyone or play the game. these are two people that aren’t inclined to cheat or be looking for a significant other or be casually dating. I think they’d survive long distance, especially given how much they care about the other. they think of the other as their family, ffs, that’s not a bond easily broken by distance. and American schools give long breaks, especially between semesters (#christianity lmao). I was looking at Cornell’s academic calendar for fic purposes and there are plenty of breaks for rich king incanti to jet himself or ele to wherever the other is and have quality time. I think they’ll survive long distance just fine, especially if ele decides to go to college in the US. and the time difference between NY and Rome is only six hours, and speaking as someone who’s done the whole time-difference-with-loved-ones thing, that’s totally manageable for texting and calling and stuff. they’ll be fine. 

basically it’ll be a lot of facetime/skype/video calls, pretty constant texting, seeing each other during breaks bc rich king, and spending their summers together. I can see edo coming home for the summer for sure and they’ll spend it all traveling bc they’re Italian royalty lmaoooo. 

I’ve said this already but I think ele would do something with biology, maybe research or teaching. that being said, the journalism and writing aspect could totally be worked into the science thing (technical writing, anyone?). she could work for a science journal or write for a research team or something like that. boundless opportunities aha. I do see your point about journalism, though. given her interest in the radio and the subject matters we know she’s chosen for her episodes, I can totally see ele going into journalism and writing and reporting on causes she believes in. both are two directions I think she’d be really happy in, but I’ll agree with you that botany is not the optimal career choice lmao. 

I think Italy will always be a home for incantava, whichever city they end up in, bc of the family they do have there (filo, nonna incanti, ele’s mom even) and bc it’s where they met and grew up. I have no idea how common it is for Italians to stay in their country or not, but given that our rich king is gonna go on to do some fancy business stuff and ele’s research will likely take her all over the globe depending on what she specializes in, I think they’ll be traveling a lot and would think of Italy as a home base, so to speak. 

and marriage. fuck I think about incantava getting married all the time. I can’t see them getting married until both of them are done with school, but I think they move in with each other or have a shared living space pretty quick, probably once ele finishes high school. then university plus a graduate/masters program of some sort would put ele at like ~25 and edo ~27 (I think???? undergrads take ~4 years in the US but idk how edo will go about doing it and ele may or may not do college in the US, but my research for the college!au at Italian schooling puts an undergrad+masters at being around 5 years total someone correct me if I’m wrong so I would imagine an American undergrad + a European masters would take anywhere from 4-6 years total) so yeah I think they’d get married around then. kids plus their careers is a more complicated question tho. I just imagine those beautiful babies and their incredible domesticity to keep from stressing over the logistics of it tho lmaoooooo 

hopefully this is a satisfactory answer to ur questions aha. there’s just so much that’s ambiguous about them that solid plans for their future will always allude me, but I just love them being fantastic and successful and intelligent together. as long as the writers keep their hands off they’ll be ok :)

[vapormaison]

2019 Best Vinyl Pressing 1/4: 魂のための歌 by 憂鬱

Preface: Throughout the month of December, Vapor Maison will be nominating  “BEST OF” albums of 2019. Slots will remain open for this month’s releases. Categories include Best Vaporwave Release, Best Future Funk Release, Best Re-Release (V & FF), and Best City Pop Re-Release, among others. This is one nominee for best Vinyl Press.

Author’s Note: For the writer’s ease of writing and readers ease of reading, I’ll be using the transliteration of 憂鬱:Yūutsu, and the translation of “Soul’s Song” in lieu of “魂のための歌”. I’ll maintain the Japanese track listings for easy reference. Apologies to Purity, a maiden as tedious as she is cruel.

Are the merits of a vaporwave album on vinyl even worth reviewing?

 Obviously, you’re reading a vaporwave vinyl review — creating a sort of circuit — so in the strictest sense of the word, yes, — but naturally, a follow up question must be asked by any smart music consumer. If so much of vaporwave, and by extension future funk, is centered around digital manipulation of either computer programs (vocaloid, electronic loops, midis, drum kits, etc), and pre-existing digital rips of j-pop (by definition most of future funk) — what’s the point of a vinyl press? Pressing mp3s onto vinyl is pointless — as no amount of “warmth” from a vinyl-based Hi-Fi system will ever make up for a low-quality source. What’s more, the indie releases of these tracks can make it hard to justify an expensive vinyl mastering session. In my most unfortunate purchases, I’ve had MP3s outperform certain 45s.

But sometimes, you can get just the right format, just the right mix and master, and it just makes your hifi set sing. You, as a Vaporwave/Future Funk/Chillwave/etc. enthusiast, can certainly approach the sonic repro quality of lore — that Platonic form of an “audiophile’s album”. How can I prove this? Look no further than Soul’s Song by Yuutsu. Point blank, full stop. This is the one of the rare vapor records for a true audiophile. In this next section, I’ll be giving my thoughts on the album’s tracklist. In Part 2, you can join me for a trip into Hi-Fi World for a discussion of Vapor-Vinyl’s legitimacy.

PART 1: THE MUSIC

小さい鳥 opens the album with a moody, synthetic mandolin-like twang and elegiac Vocaloid vacillations extended in a sort of melancholic embrace that brings you — willing or otherwise, into the arms of this project. The arrangement of the loops are of particular note here, with the layering of additional sonic flutters that culminate in an anti-climactic crescendo that leaves you as sad and disappointed as the album no doubt wants you to feel.

それは愛を返さありません ends up being the most “atmospheric” of all the tracks, a listening experience I’d describe as a fitting background track for a KEY visual novel — eerie, haunting monosyllabic Vocaloid chants of comprising the long, long hooks. While running at 5:24, it definitely feels longer — perhaps created by a symphonic discord between vocals and music at intermittent portions of the piece. I’d characterize this piece as the most experimental of the album, deftly playing with my expectations more than any of the others.

闇 is incredible — and without a doubt the highlight of the tape. Because it departs from the simple string looping and gives us something more — something resembling a tragic and contemplative harmony, however discordant, and one that builds into lyrically what I consider to be a genuine contemplation of spirituality and the other world — a natural place, topically, for an album titled “Soul’s Song”. A sort of hollow computerized synth also left me considering — was this song about the soul of the Vocaloid program itself?

The digitized horns, eerie synths, and what I could best classify as the crackling of amplifiers introduce the thirty-eight second interlude of 変更 and serve as the riser to the climactic shift of the EP beginning in おやすみ. This four-minute piece deftly blends electric and analog strings and brings the vocaloid program to its emotional and sonic heights, really making the high-end pop in a for a surprisingly refreshing experience.

We conclude the album with a hybrid piece ネコチャン which captures the electric energy of おやすみ, the distorted samples of 変更 and adds a fleeting feeling of warmth with that familiar sound of tennis shoes on a waxed gym floor, evoking nostalgia that never was of doldrum days in a Japanese high school. The album fades out, with our familiar vocaloid’s calling out of Neko-chan, melting away like memories.

PART 2: THE VINYL LISTENING EXPERIENCE

When re-starting this review blog in earnest over the past month or so, I made a point to get my best gear serviced. I couldn’t claim to be fulfilling my broadened duties without having a fully-serviced, properly functioning kit. One of the more essential and dreaded refurbishments was getting my KEFs over to the local stereo shop wizard for a re-foam. I’d be without my workhorses for a week: an audiophile Alexander without his binaural Bucephalus. In the meanwhile, my backup speakers — a pair of Cambridge Audio SX-50 bookshelf speakers that I use as computer monitors, stepped up to the plate as pinch hitter.

I provide this anecdote for a reason: the very afternoon I dropped my KEF’s off at the shop is also the afternoon I received my copy of Soul’s Song by Yūutsu.

Admittedly, I can’t say I was particularly hyped for this release, or very eager tor receive it in the post. The previous evening I had been sleeplessly experimenting on a DJ set of city pop for the journal’s launch party at my alma mater. I was decidedly on an upbeat, caffeine-fueled kick of positive thoughts and big dick energy. Success had triggered the dopamine receptors, and the idea of sitting down for a serious listening session of an album that many BandCamp users had dubbed as “peak sadwave” seemed like an unnecessary vibe check.

But— being a self-appointed music blogger— a craft which I imagine has real pretensions about it somewhere, I buckled —a serious listening session was attempted.

And I was utterly blown away.

***

A final word on gear. The Cambridge SX-50s — and Cambridge Audio in general— do have a bit of a cult-following among guitar enthusiasts in various audiophile spheres. I also am familiar with a listening bar in Nagoya (where I studied abroad for a semester) that uses top-shelf Cambridge Hi-Fi gear solely for Vocaloid listening sessions!

Suffice to say, I was not actively thinking about either of those two facts when I first let the needle drop, but when the twangy synthetic guitar loop and the eerie vocalic chants of それは愛を返さありません began, a sudden wave of melancholy set in and brought my mind back to a lonely winter spent in that basement bar after breaking up with my girlfriend. And to the Cambridges. At that time, I became intimately familiar with how an upbeat, poppy — sometimes even jazzy track— accompanied with Vocaloid vocals could really make those speakers sing. And it was happening right now, as I was cuddled by the warmth pouring from those drivers in spite of the cold sadness of the arrangement. That dichotomy was on full display as “Ya-aa-mi” invocations of 闇 reached its penultimate hook.

In may respects, these Cambridges were and still are petty. I had previous experience with them butchering a poor quality vinyl of the Luxury Elite/Saint Pepsi Late Night Delight EP two years ago. My KEF’s usually take it upon themselves to run cover for a bad release. Cambridge-chan couldn’t be bothered. On a bad day, with a bad play, they’ll seem like the most clinical JBL studio monitor — but here they were, absolutely singing. This album was making them slap — metaphorically. And that’s when I realized what a magical press this was.

Five days later, the KEFs were securely hooked up to my amp again. The first vinyl to be put through the paces was, of course, Soul’s Song. Again I was impressed. The exquisite layering of this album can’t be expressed enough — and while the SX-50s brought out the synthetic string and vocals to the fore, my 104s filled in the rest of the sonic picture. I felt as if I was being re-acquainted with a piece of sculpture upon viewing it from a different angle, or witnessing a church’s mosaic in person after seeing a small reproduction in a well-printed textbook. This is a pressing far and above the previous standards I’ve set for vaporwave.

***

As any Vapor Vinyl review would be incomplete without a brief take on the overallＡｅｓｔｈｅｔｉｃ of the release, so I’ll just start by saying that I really enjoy the three-tone front end. The lavender, beige and white undeniably make this a very “Aloe” release, who tend to make things easy on my very nearsighted eyes by never making the cover too busy. This is perhaps with the notable exception of VR 97’s recent cassette release — not a trend, I hope!

I do have to admit I’m getting a bit tired of pink vinyls, though — and Soul’s Song unfortunately now joins a very crowded pack. I suppose if you were being pedantic, you could compare the “pinkness” of the album vis a vis the 2nd pressing of Macros 82-99’s Sailorwave (fuller, more saturated), or even the “bubblegum” first pressing of Vektroid’s Floral Shoppe (just naming two iconic releases) — but I think this release would have been fine (and moved units) as, say, a picture disc — making use of the powerful, emotive cover art to its fullest extent. In short, it takes something unique and then commodifies it to the point of exhaustion. While I suppose this criticism could be leveled at all of the genres I cover— I think generally speaking Vaporwave and Future Funk (to a lesser extent) treads this line of “capitalist critique” and “modified consumption” rather adeptly.

The main thrust in the previous paragraph, I should qualify, is not a specific criticism of Aloe City Records, however — I think they’ve done a fine job generally. If I could make a list of three releases that justify a special edition vinyl — this is certainly one.

For audiophile vaporwave/chill-wave fans, I’d encourage you to snap it up while you can.  You can even buy it ethically — it’s still in stock on Aloe City’s band-camp page. It’s in my mind — without doubt — one of the best presses of the year.

[mydarlingklaus]

Black Roses, Chapter 4: With every update comes more love and support and I cannot express my gratitude enough.  As usual, the link to my ff account is at the end if you could so kindly leave a review. Much appreciated. I’m not posting the whole chapter on this platform because it’ll take forever to space it all out so click the link for the full chapter. Happy reading (:

Tyler admired Caroline from across the table, leaning back on his chair as she digested her grimoire and paying him no mind. After lunch they both had free period which is usually when they engaged in quality alone time together but found themselves in a study room instead.

He knew how busy she's been lately and his schedule was no better which prompted his plans to woo her into immense PDA for the next 40 minutes. But Caroline had other plans, stressing herself out to get things done and was too focused on her work to notice her boyfriend's prying eyes.

Almost.

"You're staring." She sang with a smile, making it clear she sensed him far before saying anything.

The werewolf smiled back. "What can I say, I like the view." He shrugged.

"Cheesy. Very cheesy." Caroline softly laughed under her breath shaking her head and continued reading.

She hadn't noticed Tyler sitting up from his chair and subtly moved to her side of the booth now right beside her. His immediate warmth was hard to hide so she wasn't too shaken up even when he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with his finger.

Caroline didn't allow the close proximity to phase her, teasing him by not giving the attention she knows he's desperate for was reward enough.

"Would it be less cheesy if I had very dirty intentions?" He said suggestively against her skin.

Her slight shiver not enough reason to give in. She dismissed his seductive promises with a shrug and abruptly changed the subject. "Want to see this new spell I learned? Your girl can basically cause a wildfire using just her mind." Caroline proudly claimed with a widened smile.

Of course she was proud.

It was a spell she had been working on since last semester for her senior seminar class that she consistently messed up on; whether ingredient measurements or other distractions. Multiple trials later, she felt it was finally perfected and was eager to show it to the person she cared most about.

Tyler brushed off her comment with nonchalant nods with lips seeking out her skin again.

"Later, much later." He suggested with his lips brushing her cheek before dipping lower to caress her jaw and kissing repeatedly. His hand grabbing one side of her face to keep her head at an angle as his sensual actions continued.

Caroline momentarily lost herself in the feel of his affections, forgetting her hurt from his dismal of her excitement.

Tyler was a great boyfriend majority of the time, but he wasn't the best support system when it came to her witchery. When they were just friends, he always claimed how confusing witches were and how the witchcraft gave him the creeps, but then he fell for Caroline. She thought with him being with her it'd encourage him to learn more about what she is and but it never came and she didn't press him about it.

The book nearly dropped after her shallow moan of appreciation. His other hand venturing lower to her waist pulling her closer.

A part of her wanted to indulge and relax but she knew how irresponsible it would be if she succumbed. Her eyes closed for a second before opening wide soon after. She couldn't risk sparing any time or being distracted.

Lightly pushing him against his chest when he attempted to drifting lower onto her neck, Caroline groaned.

"Stop." She whined lightly pushing him away.

Tyler sighed frustratingly and annoyed. His fingers ran through his hair wildly as he sat up his chair with a scowl. "Really Care?"

Caroline threw her hands in the air. "What? I told you I have a lot of work to do."

"And I don't?" He raised his voice. "Yeah, I have tons of assignments and football but I still make time for you, for us. To steal these moments with each other while we can..." Leaning in for another kiss that Caroline immediately dodged.

The blonde scoffed turning her face. "Seriously? That's what this is about, you're pissed because I don't want to make out with you whenever you want?" She accused.

"Honestly? Yeah, kinda." He admitted. "Or maybe I'm just pissed that my girlfriend seems to be more into her stupid spell book than me."

Caroline's head shot up with an upset snarl. "It's not stupid." She defended.

Tyler pressed his lips into a line appearing apologetic. "Hey," Grabbing her hand into his affectionately. "I'm sorry babe, okay? I just miss you and feel like we haven't spent a lot of time together lately. We're the royal couple at this school but I don't feel very royal-like when I'm not with you." He joked making Caroline grin at the corniness.

It wasn't that Caroline was intentionally trying to blow Tyler off but she genuinely had a full plate of responsibilities, not to mention her mother informing her earlier in the day she'd be visiting some time this week. Whitmore's first football game was in just a few days, homecoming committee meetings were tomorrow; her class work and personal work were clashing. The pressure kept piling on and she longed for a break that would never come, and Tyler was a part of the break she needed.

She gave him a warm smile, leaning into him to capture his lips in a sweet but brief kiss. "I know, I'm sorry too. I know I'm a mess and probably the worst girlfriend ever."

Tyler looked up, pretending to ponder. "Not the worst..." He teased making Caroline laugh.

"I appreciate you wanting to make time for me, I do. But you know how important my lineage is and what it means to my family to remain the supreme witch by the time I graduate." She explained.

"I get it, you know I do." Tyler sighed. "I get how important this is for you but it's not everything, right? You're more than just spells and shrunken heads." He laughed.

Caroline's forehead slightly creased in irritation. Irritated that Tyler wasn't understanding what she was trying to say at all.

- He really doesn't get it.

Tyler's hands crept up on both sides of her face softly. "I want you, Care. I like being with you but lately it seems I've been in a relationship with you and the grimoire."

"Oh, you mean how I felt last semester with you and your football

Her response died when his mouth covered hers briefly with a promising kiss. The abrupt act of affection stunned the blonde witch who's air nearly knocked out her lungs from the aggression. He pulled away with an event brighter smile that she reciprocated, deciding not to start another argument.

"Let's go away this weekend just you, me and my parents' lake house. The next full moon isn't for a couple of weeks so I'll still be around. Perfect opportunity for us to, reconnect." He suggested.

She nearly forgot about the full moon that occurred once a month was quickly approaching.

Caroline dreaded this time of the month because Tyler would go home to, 'handle the situation'. He never wanted to be near, on the certainty that he would hurt someone on campus; most importantly Caroline despite her fascination. Instead, his parents arranged a deal with Headmistress Saltzman for approved leave once a month.

Money can get you anything.

He would run wild and free in the dark woods near his mansion, about 30 minutes from the school.

Without a doubt Caroline missed him during that time but a romantic getaway? As if they were a married couple trying to keep their love alive instead of just two teenagers who needed a breather.

The witch's mouth agape. "Tyler-"

"Imagine how beautiful and peaceful it'd be to have a little getaway before things get too wild around here. Before we both become caught up in other stuff and really won't have much time together till graduation. And, my parents said I can use it whenever I want." Tyler excitedly proposed.

Caroline nervously laughed. "You realize we have school, right?"

"Obviously," Rolling his eyes. "But it's just the weekend and all we need is the approval from Headmistress Saltzman then it's a done deal." He said nonchalantly.

Tyler turned Caroline's chair until she was completely facing him. She slightly flinched when he grabbed her hand again and leaving a kiss on her knuckles.

"We're stressed already, especially you, and being on campus all the time is probably making it worse." He accurately claimed. "A weekend away is exactly what the doctor ordered." He said with a convincing smile.

It was a very tempting offer that Caroline would usually jump at the opportunity for.

The Lockwood lake house was legendary, especially during Summer vacation. Tyler came from a wealthy family as well, his father was the Mayor of Whitmore though he had to keep his family tree a secret from the public. Nothing would hurt more in his campaign than everyone finding out their dear mayor and his son were half beast. Tyler's mom was human, marrying into the supernatural improved her knowledge on the nature of werewolves; it's what Caroline wished Tyler would do for her. Caroline only met his parents a few times and never feeling more cold and inferior than talking to Mrs. Lockwood.

They allowed Tyler to rent out the lake house that had been passed down by generations. All his parties were lively and extravagant. Nearly the entire class was invited, minus vampires of course. Not to mention it sat on the most beautiful lake in town with the perfect view of the dusk and dawn. Caroline loved it and being there would probably be the perfect stress relief.

She sighed defeated. "That sounds so nice, really, but I don't have much time to spare especially with this group assignment from Professor Sommers' class that determines if I graduate or not. Can you believe she really paired me with Klaus Mikaelson?"

The werewolf's eyebrows shot up curiously. "Mikaelson? Why do you two have a class together?"

"It's a general education class, everyone's allowed apparently." Caroline said disapprovingly.

"Huh..." Pressing his lips together.

"Yeah I know. Literally couldn't have received a better graduation gift, right?" She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

Caroline's joking expression faded when she noticed Tyler's face drop and feeling his body tense.

He took a deep breath and slightly relaxed noticing his girlfriend's concerned face.

When he placed a comforting hand on top of hers she felt more calm. "Sorry, sorry it's not you. I just really don't like that guy." He admitted.

"Join the club." She agreed with a wide smile and arms around his neck to bring him in for a deep kiss.

Their lips smooth against each other and in perfect rhythm. He pulled her closer, both arms around her waist tightly and moaning between kisses.

She knew Tyler was just trying to be a good boyfriend, it was more than appreciated and she wanted to be good to him as well; he's yet to give her a reason not to be. She was becoming her own enemy, her personal thoughts and revelations blocking her from reality.

- Fake it till you make it.

She told herself, figuring this was just another one of her phases that would blow over in a day or two.

The werewolf pulled away from the embrace to speak. "But if he ever gives you a hard time-"

"Don't worry. I can handle him." She smiled into another kiss. "Who do you think makes a sport out of giving him aneurysms?"

Tyler laughed in agreement, kissing her lips a final time.

Per usual, Caroline arrived to class before everyone else with three textbooks in her arms and a scowl on her face. Lately she hadn't been bubbly happy Caroline that everyone knows and loves.

She was already having a chaotic day, not to mention one of her cheerleaders sprained their ankle which meant Caroline has to change the squad's formation and she had to prep for another meeting tonight with her coven to discuss homecoming. She performed a minor soothing spell on herself before class to ease her through this last class, especially because today was the first day of working on class projects.

Literally the last thing Caroline wanted to do today was endure vampire company for 40 minutes.

Now sitting at her seat she pushed her hair out her face and began organizing her desk area before class began.

Organization kept her semi sane.

She spread out all her notebooks and pens, color coordinated and perfectly parallel of each other.

Caroline glanced up at the sound of an annoying female laughter coming from the entrance.

More and more students arrived and cleared her view at the nauseating sight of Klaus and the infamous short redhead vampire. Her back pressed against the threshold stupidly laughing at whatever Klaus was saying while he practically towered over her.

The girl was clearly whipped. He could've been telling her it's cold outside or he lost his car keys and she would think it was the funniest thing in the world.

- Gross. Imagine being that sprung over Klaus Mikaelson.

She cringed.

This was the second time Caroline's seen them together all cuddled up looking and acting like a couple; at least this time they were fully clothed. Still she was trying to burn that image out her head.

Caroline never noticed them together before this semester and now they popped up everywhere she turned in the most sickening fashion.

Klaus kept his hands in his pockets but the girl wouldn't stop touching him like she'd die if she didn't. Both her hands caressing his chest through his white Henley seductively, and thigh settled between his. Klaus didn't seem as enthused with her affections but he also wasn't dodging anything to stop it, smirking and egging her on. When he did show a hint of a smile it seemed genuine, and he didn't appear annoyed by her either.

- Maybe it is two-sided?

Caroline found it difficult to not analyze the scene in front of her. It was hard to look away, like watching a tragic car crash.

Caroline wanted to gag. They were so transfixed into each other neither bothered to move out the doorway for the student entering. If anything the redhead used it as an excuse to subtly push herself closer into his body.

- Amateur.

The blonde rolled her eyes.

- Shit!

Full chapter can be found here! Don’t forget to leave a review (:

[littlemulattokitten]

Dating App Conundrums

Alright so I’ve been planning to do this for a while, and may make a thing out of it just to chronicle the adventure from single to hopefully not, but who knows. 

Basically I decided to research a few dating apps and try them out, since I’m the type of person who’s content to stay home, but also only likes going out with a friend or small group (not alone) - therefore my chances of meeting people are probably in the negatives without dating services like the ones I’m currently on.

This post will probably end up being both a review of some of these apps as well as a master shitpost detailing the adventures of a straight female attempting to find a straight male to date online. And I know Tumblr well enough that at least half the people who read this will have yet another reason to be proud of their not straight orientation. Because good fucking lord the nonsense I’ve seen.

Storytime begins below the cut. This isn’t going to be short. That’s your warning. It will probably be funny at some points though. It’s funny to live it, at least. And I may break it into parts, Idk yet.

Let’s get a few things out of the way first.

Until this experiment, I’d never used dating apps ever. I knew of them. Hated them on principle (dislike them even more now, but we’ll get into that later) and wanted nothing to do with them. I knew a few people who were happily married to a Match.com or OKCupid match but aside from that – I’d never even downloaded Tinder like everyone else I knew in HS and college.

I haven’t actually dated anyone since my first semester of college. On purpose. I broke off my engagement to my elementary school sweetheart (thankfully we are still good friends and our friendship recovered from that near disaster) and I just wanted to focus on myself for a while.

The small handful of relationships I have had that lasted longer than 6 months taught me a lot about what I want in my ideal mate. The one or two less-than-6-months-barely-relationships I had in high school taught me A LOT about what I will never put up with from people.

My “type” isn’t reflective of my dating history. I’ve gotten to the point with these apps where I’m combining their shallow-indorsing metrics with my own personal preferences. Basically going through an aesthetic checklist then scanning through their profile to see if the actual person is equally pretty.

Spoiler, I have to swipe left A LOT.

I’m a very particular person. I’m very introverted and I hate when someone makes conversation harder than it has to be. I can hold a conversation. I just refuse to be the only one putting effort into it. (This makes more sense later)

I’m beyond fed up with dating app culture but my perfect or close enough to perfect guy has gotta exist so most of my accounts will remain I fucking guess.

I’m not necessarily looking for Mr. Forever. I’ll gladly keep him if I find him, but I’m also not looking for a relationship that I know will be temporary. I don’t do things by halves. I want something solid, whether it lasts forever or not depends on a lot of things.

I CAN’T EMOTIONALLY MULTITASK. I can really only give one person my full interest and attention at a time, which doesn’t bode well for these apps bc you gotta be able to bounce form one to the next no matter how excited you were about someone. These apps fucking suck.

Okay. Now let’s begin properly.

I started with Bumble. Yes. I know. Introverted female starting on a dating app that requires her to make the first move. That can’t go badly right.

I damn near have a panic attack every time I get a match I stg. Anyway.

I was skeptical at first. I’m not huge on people knowing a lot about me from the outset (or I wasn’t - i give so much less of a fuck now bc it makes almost no difference on these things) so my profile was pretty threadbare and cold. Now, a few weeks later, my profile is an efficient snapshot with a splash of Slytherin “Don’t fucking test me.”

Did I mention I’m an INTJ Scorpio? Yeah my entire approach is gonna scream that and my Hogwarts house, just you wait.

Round 1 ~ Bumble 🐝🍯

Okay so Bumble is interesting. For those who don’t know, it’s basically Beehive-Themed Tinder except for heterosexual couples, the lady has to initiate conversation. (Either party in a same sex match can message first) She has 24 hours from the point where her and a fella have “matched” to do so, then he has 24 hours to respond and seal the match – ending the time limits.

Bumble also gives you a rough estimate of how far away someone is sometimes. I’ve read articles about how bumble’s location estimate feature has ruined relationships forged through bumble and generally turned women into paranoid psychos over matches. Can. Fucking. Confirm. It’s the most annoying thing ever. Why?

Android vs Apple. That’s literally why.

The way Bumble’s location service is supposed to work is that everytime you open the app, it updates your location based on your phone or computer’s location. As far as I can tell, that’s exactly how it works on my android phone.

Apple users. Y’all are a problem. Not because I give a shit about your iPhone, I don’t give a shit do you ffs, but IOS location permissions can allow apps to update your location without the app being open.

Reread that for me.

Without. The app. Being. Open.

Which basically means if you match checks your profile, they can tell whether you’re where you were when they swiped right (say, 26 miles away) versus, oh idfk, a whole state or two away.

Real specific example I know. Why? Because I ended up unmatching a guy I REALLY wanted to get to know better because of it.

Though, to be fair, guys are really lax about how they behave on these apps in my opinion, which is a bigger problem than the stupid IOS setting.

Allow me to explain.

Dating App Etiquette 

It barely exists, but it should. Here’s the thing. On these apps, you basically swipe right on a pretty face and left on one you’re not interested in waking up to in the morning or sitting on. I’m only being half funny here. I’m convinced people use dating apps more for hookups than their intended purpose. Which, whatever, but for fuck’s sake make BumbleHookup. There’s BumbleDating, DumbleFriends, and BumbleNetwork or whatever. Just make BumbleDTF so we can filter these people out already.

BACK TO THE SINFULLY ATTRACTIVE AND INTERESTING DUDE I UNMATCHED

I’m still kinda peeved about this. In part at myself, but also just in general.

Most people seem to treat Bumble like Tinder. They don’t fill out their profile hardly at all. Have less than 3 pictures, have pictures that make it unclear who’s profile it is, or – my least favorite thing that is almost 100% regional – THEY REALLY FUCKING THINK A PICTURE OF THEM IN SUNGLASSES HOLDING A FUCKING FISH THEY JUST CAUGHT IS ATTRACTIVE. IT IS NOT. THAT’S NOT WHAT THE PICTURES ARE FOR. JUST SAY YOU LIKE TO FISH IN YOUR FUCKING PROFILE BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO LOOK AT ONE MORE MOTHER FUCKING FISH-

I’ve seen a lot of fish in the last few weeks. Like. So many that I’m basically auto swiping left if someone’s profile has less than 4 pictures and one or more contains a stupid fucking fish.

LOOK AT MY FUCKING USERNAME. LITTLEMULATTOKITTEN. IF A SELF-IDENTIFYING CAT TRAPPED IN A HUMANS BODY SAYS THERE’S TOO MANY FUCKING FISH – THERE ARE TOO MANY MOTHER FUCKING FISH.

I can guarantee this won’t be my last fish rant. You don’t understand how many fucking fish I’ve seen.

BUT THIS GUY DIDN’T HAVE ANY FISH IN HIS PROFILE.

So he already had my fucking attention. He was also startlingly handsome – not in a oh you exist off puss and nothing else there’s no other way someone as pretty as you with a penis could exist – but like “Oh. I’d…really like to look at that forever and sit on it if you’ll let me please.”

NOT ONLY DID I FIND HIM THAT ATTRACTIVE BUT HE SWIPED RIGHT ON ME TOO AND READ ENOUGH OF MY PROFILE TO ASK ME A QUESTION FROM THE LOWER HALF OF IT.

I was freaking the fuck out excited.

And frankly the odds of him seeing this are so fucking low that I’ll go ahead and tell you some specifics about the short convo we had, but nothing that could lead anyone back to him obviously.

He’d lived in my home state. First thing he asked was which city I was from. Then he guessed, claiming that guess was based off a beanie I was wearing in my second to last (I think) image available on my profile.

He’d lived in my home CITY. Which means he was familiar with the CULTURE. And would probably GET ME MORE THAN MOST GUYS IN MY AREA.

He worked in an industry/field I knew about and had almost gone into myself.

He was so fucking attractive. I have yet to come across someone who checked ever preliminary shallow box on my want list.

Biceps. Listen. We’re all a little shallow. Biceps do to me what ass and tiddy do to some guys. It’s one of the few really fucking strong visual things I have, followed by dark hair and blue eyes. But he was something of a gym rat, for sure, and I’d gladly torture myself at the gym if that man was going to be in my line of sight at all during the process.

Seriously. I’ve never seen someone who didn’t look like they had to be famous or an alien that made me go “He’s so pretty I want to cry.” EVER. I WANT TO CRY THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MATCHED ANYMORE.

And last but not least – like almost every fucking match I’ve ever made, I could count his replies on one hand before he went radio silent.

So, how does this relate to that location issue, you may ask.

Because I didn’t fucking know that Bumble could update your location on some devices without you opening the app.

There’s no online/activity indicator for Bumble except their location updating. Which, when you’re really excited to get to know someone and they suddenly vanish, but they’re more likely than not still online, you might start to feel like you’ve been put on hold.

Life stuff, yes, makes sense, I get it. But these apps have push notifications (which can be buggy) and if you’ve matched with someone, odds are you’re interested enough to check back on occasion (unless you aren’t). So it quickly became a worry game.

Because, like I said, I can’t just say “I’m excited about you, but I’ll keep browsing”. I don’t work that way. Unless I’m not excited about someone, then yeah I’ll keep scatter-shotting. But if I’m not excited to get to know someone why the fuck would I swipe right.

Anyway. After a few days of silence, I was disappointed and getting bitter and the few proverbial bones I’d thrown him had gone unanswered. I knew I was overthinking it and letting my own insecurities get to me a bit, but at the end of the day, there’s a few general courtesies that should exist in online dating culture that don’t.

Why people are afraid or hesitant to say they’re too busy to respond much in their profiles is beyond me. Some guys have the right idea announcing that they’re bad at checking the app and offering their snapchat or telling matches to ask for it.

But even if you’re testing the waters with another match, we’re all on this app for the same fucking reason. Say so. I’m not the kind of person who will need to, because I don’t operate that way on these apps, but I would. Because if that person is really bothered by you finding out if you’re more compatible with someone you matched with prior to them, that tells you something about them.

Would I have been disappointed if that had been the case with this guy? Yeah, kinda. I probably would have felt like his second choice at best, even if he’d come back to chatting with me. But that’s how these fucking apps are designed. Buckle up or unmatch. Fuck your emotions and self-esteem.

I unmatched for my sanity, because that happened a few days into this whole experiment and I wasn’t on any other sites yet. I wasn’t really prepared to deal with this whole thing yet and I didn’t know what to expect. I felt like shit and decided that if he showed up in my feed again, maybe I’d super swipe him (paid extra special right swipe that tells them you REALLY like their face and whatever) but I still don’t know what I’ll do if he does. 

Lowkey hoping it was all a misunderstanding and whatever but like, not at all holding out for that because what are the fucking odds.

And again, my disappointment stems mostly from the fact that I was really excited to get to know him. The idea of finding someone on this stupid app in less than a week who wasn’t forcing his fish pictures in my face, would absolutely be the type of person to encourage my own wellness goals, and who was obviously smart because of his career path, was such an exciting thought. If we’d hit it off and gotten along really well, I’d have been so many levels of shocked and overwhelmingly happy that I just don’t know what I’d do.

When someone who looks like they’re 100% your type actually reads your profile and swipes right – you get excited. I was really excited. I’m still a little sad/disappointed, but I’m basically over it.

Other Misc. Things I’ve Learned On Bumble and other Dating Apps As a Relationship Seeking User

Take every profile with a grain of salt unless it’s so blatantly straightforward. And then still toss a pinch in.

The pretty pretty pretty buff boys who look like their players but their profiles claim they want a relationship? Odds are still players. They will try to convince you there’s 10 inches in their pants. They clearly aren’t smart enough to know that’s biologically uncomfortable for females and the best way to end up in the emergency room with a ruined cervix so don’t even swipe right. They’ll just ask for nudes.

People who use dating sites have some odd, hive mind fixation with The Office.

“Jim looking for his Pam” is in most profiles. I’m not sure why. References to The Office or mentions of The Office are about as common as all the stupid fucking fish.

I live in the wrong part of the country to find guys I’m actually going to share interests with. Just wait until I tell you about my experience so far on OK Cupid. I literally won’t find anyone where I live unless they’re from somewhere culturally similar to where I was born and are willing to move back with me. Because I am not fucking staying in the land of the god damn fish forever.

Most people don’t look at religion and politics like I do. Which is “You do you, I’ll do me, we won’t talk about it and we can peacefully do each other.” I don’t fucking care if your politics contradict mine if that’s the only thing we have not in common. Just make it a blacklisted subject and don’t let one frankly insignificant difference of opinion ruin an entire relationship or potential relationship. And same with religion. I’m not even a little religious. I don’t care if my future husband is unless it’s in my face constantly, he tries to “convert me”, get me to go to church with him, or some other blatant disrespect of my own religious standing. You worship whatever you want. I’ll right fanfiction about magic demon princes fucking their human-born demon queen every which way to Sunday. If religion is that big of a fucking deal for you, be upfront about it. Most people are in their bios. Either way, I’m really fucking sick of people who put too much weight into these two things like they actually decide how compatible you are with someone unless you let them.

I fucking hate fish.

Dating apps need more filters and ways to narrow down searches. 90% of the filters already present are shallow as all hell. What’s a few more.

Primarily let me filter out a few NAMES. This sounds super picky, but I have a really big family. 7 uncles. Over 20 cousins including the few cousins of mine who have kids. There’s a few names that would just be weird and awkward for me to associate with a significant other. If I could filter out my stepdad’s first name (which is disgustingly common but still), my biological father’s name, and a few of my uncle’s names, that’d be fucking swell. You already let me filter by religion and race. Let me filter out some fucking names damnit.

And there have to be people who have traumatic associations with names too like?????

The Office is a funny, good show and all but WHY IS EVERYONE ON THESE APPS FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT THE WAY I’M OBSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER. I’VE SEEN IT. IT’S NOT **THAT** FUCKING FUNNY. SOMEONE EXPLAIN.

YOU HOLDING A DEAD FISH ISN’T FUCKING ATTRACTIVE SIR. THIS ISN’T THE SHAPE OF WATER. SHOW ME YOUR FACE NOT YOUR FISH.

The dating apps that are probably actually worth using all require a paid subscription.

There’s no real way to advertise that you find sex and physical intimacy very important in a relationship without making yourself sound like a cock-thirsty whore. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, you do you, but I’m looking for someone to be a slut FOR, I’m not one already and I dislike not being able to be upfront about that without being profiled or attracting fuckboys.

WHY CAN I NOT FILTER OUT PROFILES THAT CONTAIN IMAGES OF FISH

STOP WITH THE FUCKING FISH COUNTRY BOYS. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A GIRLFRIEND OR SOMEONE TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR TACKLEBOX? AND DON’T TELL ME THAT’S THE SAME THING, MY FAMILY IS COUNTRY. IT AIN’T THE SAME FUCKING THING. ALL THAT FISH TELLS ME IS THAT YOU’RE PROBABLY COMPENSATING FOR SOMETHING.

Judging by the few fish-fucks with their profiles filled out at all – they’re compensating for personality.

With how shallow the filters on these sites are, just go ahead and fucking add eye color, hair, etc. Seriously. If you’re gonna let me be shallow enough to only pick men of a certain ethnicity, and religion, you may as fucking well let me see if I can find a guy with blue eyes, biceps, dark hair, non religious, who doesn’t want kids without reading every fucking profile I come across.

There are way more guys on these sites who want or think they want children some day. This baffles me. But then again my primary reason for not wanting children is pregnancy and giving birth which wouldn’t be their problem so of course they want them.

I just need to auto left-swipe if I see a fish. These apps are shallow anyway. Do not make a fucking fishing joke just because I said shallow.

OK Cupid has a better matching system than Bumble and such, but it’s still irritating as all hell. You can’t choose question categories that are more important. So if I see a 91% match, but he has no sex questions filled out or our sexual compatibility is like…50%...that’s not REALLY a 91% match for me. Let me mark 2 or 3 question categories as priority for fucks sake.

The bulk of guys on these apps fall into 2 categories (for me anyway) – Not enough giveadamn to explain their presence on the site & thank u, next.

Online dating is disappointing as fuck.

I’m seriously going to lose my mind if I can’t get away from the fucking fish pictures. ENOUGH. I GET IT. I NEED TO MOVE.

Seriously – I. Need. To. Move. Back. Home. I am not meant for this part of the country. These good ole boys are meant for someone but it ain’t me and my family is fucking country. I’ve been fishing, ridden 4-wheelers, made shit out of wood for shits and giggles, helped my grandparents in the garden, eaten deer my grandfather or uncles hunted and prepared, helped chop wood, ridden in the bed of a truck, etc etc etc. But ya bitch has lifestyle goals that only include mud at scheduled times. We can go camping, but we should also go out to dinner sometimes and go clubbing or dancing other times.

I was not born with this ass to settle for a man who looks like an angel and acts like one too. Why is no one non-ironically blunt about their sexual preferences?  You cannot convince me that the majority of men lack strong opinions on this subject. SERIOUSLY. IT IS 2019 NOT 1619. God DAMNIT. You’re on a DATING SITE. THAT’S AN ASPECT OF RELATIONSHIPS THAT CAN MAKE OR BREAK THEM. BE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

It’s not even actually about sharing every interest. I don’t give a shit if he doesn’t like Harry Potter much. If he’s annoyed by the level I like it, yeah that’s an issue. Otherwise, be supportive and kind about that kinda shit. That’s all I’m asking for. That’s how I am in return.

I make shit with yarn, write off the wall fanfiction, have a lot of sexual interests I don’t usually broadcast, and don’t understand how dating sites are still this ineffective in 2019.

This is super long already so I’m gonna save the other apps for a separate installment if this one is enjoyed or whatever. Jesus. These apps, guys.

Apps I still need to talk about that probably won’t require this many words each – Hinge, Coffee Meets Bagel, OkCupid (OkC might need a few thousand words).

I’ll probably look into some other niche dating sites too because at this point, what the fuck ever - I just wanna meet someone back home or willing to move back home with me who fits some reasonable criteria parameters. And I’m not even as picky as half the profiles I’ve seen, lemme tell ya. I’m just fucking opinionated. And beyond sick of this experiment already.

Sigh.

If I ever see a fish again it’ll be too soon. Bet the first profile picture on my bumble dash later will be another fucking fish though.

Those who expressed interest: @accio-echo  |  @infallibleangel  | @aconitumluparia  and those who liked are my followers so you’ll see it. This post is so long my browser is bugging out with tags or I’d tag you all too.

[softhaos]

SWIMMER!MINGYU

pairing – kim mingyu x reader genre – fluff + coach!reader + highschool!au author’s note – this was originally supposed to be a normally written oneshot but it never came out the way i wanted it to be so yeah here’s the bulleted version and it came out nicer!! enjoy!!

it’s safe to say that your high school swim team is one top tier swim team

you’ve won many championships in the past

and some of the past swimmers were skilled enough to snatch scholarships from top tier colleges

one even made it abroad and that says a lot

you’re lucky enough to be the current assisting coach for the swim team

okay truth be told the current swim captain – choi seungcheol – begged you to coach them because he knows you’ve got some experience

he was really desperate okay

because like,,,,,,

he literally begged you every day in the first two weeks after the new semester started

and he nearly went on his KNEES in front of the entire SCHOOL

yes,,, that’s how desperate he was

so you said yes before he actually went on his knees

none of the swimmers can deny that you know your stuff and know how to help them improve

but you’re also known for being strict af and if the swimmers value their wellbeing, they won’t talk back to you

it’s lowkey amusing seeing how you are feared of to a certain extent

but you’re only putting out that front so the swimmers will move their asses,,, well,,,,, seungcheol said himself everyone wanted to improve and needed your help

and you’re satisfied with almost everyone

keyword: almost

because there’s kim mingyu

you don’t have anything against him,,,, he’s a really nice guy,,,, but the thing is

instead of swimming his goddamn laps

he’s busy flirting with jung chaeyeon

not that you have anything against chaeyeon as she is your friend and you could care less about any of their love lives

it’s just,,,,,, mingyu should be swimming his laps!!!!!

yes he is a prodigy (somewhat) and is already naturally quick given his long ass arms and legs (those proportions should be illegal)

but that doesn’t excuse him from tRAINING FFS

he even said himself he wants to get a scholarship so you put in even more effort for his sake

because you’re positive he will stand a chance but only if he prACTICES

and so you always gotta pull mingyu back to the pool

and he’d whine around saying “just five more minutes please!!”

five minutes my aSS that’s what he said fifteen minutes ago too

in the end he’d swim the laps diligently

but lately,,,,, lately it seems as if he doesn’t really care

maybe ‘not care’ is the wrong term but he has other things in his mind too

and it’s quite obvious judging how he gets out of the water as soon as he’s done and rushes back to chaeyeon who shows up to practice regularly to cheer the swimmers on along with some others

(you still can’t believe the swim team has a fan club for the love of god–)

you don’t mind if some take off five minutes to talk to them but mingyu apparently has a different understanding of five minutes only

this guy is really testing your patience

he isn’t the only one you have to keep an eye on so you really can’t be his personal babysitter and see that he stays in the water 

and with the competition coming up in a few months

you really have no other solution except forcing him to stay after hours

which you do

so when seungcheol calls it a day

and everyone’s about to go change

you hold mingyu back

“mingyu, you’re doing extra laps.”

“what?”

“you want that scholarship? you gotta earn it. eight laps freestyle, now.”

tbh you’re expecting him to complain but ? he’s ? not ? complaining ?

sure, he’s baffled at first but then he nods and swims his laps??

and while he smiles whenever you’re pointing out some things just like usual, he goes on full serious mode when he’s swimming???

why is he a changed man all of sudden

besides the regular training four times a week you force him to stay behind after every time

and when you’re feeling stricter as usual you make him come on weekends too

but mingyu has never complained

all he does is smile and agree and follow your instructions,,, which surprises you pleasantly

however,,, you notice that he talks much much  m u c h  longer with chaeyeon during regular training

and you’re like ??? he does know that you only take your time to beat his ass in the evening because he does pretty much nothing during normal hours, right ???

but you’ve got every right to be confused and mad because you’re literally using your free time to play his personal trainer because he can’t get his crap together 

or he isn’t as serious as when it’s just you two in the hall

anyway, you’re pissed at him and everyone can see it

seungcheol can see it

chaeyeon can see it

hell, even the fan club notices your grudge

but not mingyu, this oblivious little shi–

“you really don’t have to go out of your way to train mingyu after hours, y’know,” seungcheol tells you while you’re busy timing junhui (who by the way, upped his game when it comes to butterfly)

“he’s half assing regular practice but not after hours which confuses me, but i don’t really mind staying late here.” you shrug and give jun a thumbs up after checking his time.

“that brat, i swear to god–“

“cheol, i can and will kick his ass myself so don’t do anything stupid!!!!”

you even have a little talk with chaeyeon

though you’re the one who initiate it,,,, you swear you don’t mean to pry

because you  d o n ‘ t  care

but some things need to be said you figure

“i’d really appreciate it if you and mingyu wouldn’t talk so much during practice, y’know? look, he’s got the best chances grabbing one of those scholarships but if he doesn’t get a grip, he can kiss them goodbye.”

“y/n, don’t worry, we’re not together and of course! i’ll make sure to keep an eye on the clock the next time!!”

and with that she sends you a wink and you’re like wait what

you never implied to know anything but okay?

a n y w a y s

bless chaeyeon for keeping her word

she still comes to practice but ignores mingyu every time he tries to start a convo with her

it’s a hilarious sight ngl

even seungcheol is cackling sjkhd

once mingyu gets it,,,,, he stops bugging chaeyeon and swims his laps

nonetheless he still insists on staying behind to practice more,,, and you don’t mind helping him out

in fact,,,,, it’s a lot of fun with just the two of you in the pool,,,, no it’s him in the pool and you’re observing from the sidelines

he really has nice shoulders

now here’s the tea

it’s become your thing to stay behind and do this one on one training

ofc you stay serious but can’t help but break into laughter every time mingyu hits his head against the wall when he’s swimming backstroke

fun aside tho

fast forward to the day of the competition

seems like all hard work was worth it

he got the gold medal in freestyle

and several offers from prestige colleges

even after the competition you continue your post-sessions

and while he’s playing around in the water you ask him

“so,,,,, already decided which college you’re gonna attend?”

he looks up at you with his adorable usual grin that you find so endearing

“yeah I already decided,,,,, I rejected them all!”

wait what

w h a t

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND KIM MINGYU WHAT THE ACTUAL–”

“I’m going to your college,,,, wouldn’t want to give up the best coach for any college”

that shuts you up,,,, you stare at him in disbelief and when the words finally sicker

“if this is a joke,,,”

“chaeyeon told me you’d find stuff like this romantic,, just forget what I said then” he suddenly mutters 

and you finally get why he’s been pestering chaeyeon for a while

now that you think about it,,, wasn’t chaeyeon the one who implied he should get extra hours of practice?

“,,,, well,,,,, she isn’t exactly wrong,,,,”

and suddenly he’s overly happy and grins at you and you finally notice that fond expression in his eyes

“does that mean I can ask you out?? and you’re not mad at all??”

“fyi, i’d always say yes to you but that doesn’t change the fact that i’m mAD YOU WASTED MY FREE TIME THE ENTIRE YEAR”

“,,,,, but I can make it up with a really great date?”

that makes you chuckle and you playfully smack his forehead

“swim the laps first and then we can talk about it”

fun fact: the date exceeded your expectation,,, mingyu really knows how to cook his food

[kathrynmaslow]

Love Lies 14/15

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

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

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

Rating: M

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE/DEATH, BRIEF MENTION OF CHILDHOOD ABUSE/SEXUAL ASSULT.

Chapter Notes: We are almost at the end, One more chapter after this one! Can’t believe this experience is coming to a close. As you can probably guess we are going to be wrapping up a lot of loose ends. Just as a word of warning, the content warnings play a big role here, mainly in the flashbacks of Emma and Killian’s past, so I want to give you a heads up. The mention of childhood abuse/sexual assault is in Emma’s flash back, and I will mark it separately so that you could skip over that part if it really isn’t something that you want to read or could be triggering. As always thanks to @daveyjacobsthepotterhead for being a lovely beta reader and for @princesse-swan for all the amazing art. Check out her full story artwork for this story here!

Read on FF

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

Art by @princesse-swan here, here and here

Chapter 14

The next couple of days passed in a blur to Emma.

After David had joined her that night and drank through half a bottle of rum with her, she had finally told him about what had happened to her after the battle.

How she was locked down on the ICE block, thankful again to August for leaving her without any suppression gear so that way she would survive her time there. About her fight with Killian after she had left David and Liam the other day. The horrible things he had said to her.

Thinking back on what he actually said to her wasn’t actually that bad, but the fact that he insinuated that she had purposely done something to get herself thrown onto the ICE block was what had really set her off.

But David had been a true brother, holding her while she cried onto his shirt and listening to her while she poured her broken heart out to him.

She didn’t think that Killian had tried to hurt her on purpose, but it didn’t change the fact that he did hurt her, and she needed some time to figure herself out again before she could see him, let alone talk to him.

After that night though, she had made it her mission to go out of her way to avoid him. She made sure that she didn’t hang out with her friends any longer than necessary, at least when David was with them.

She knew that David and Killian had gotten close since she introduced them, and she didn’t want to be a friction point in their relationship either.

So she spent a lot of girls days with Ruby and Mary Margaret, who she was finally getting along with on better terms than before.

It was fine, having some longer girls days with her friends, she felt like she had been neglecting them since she started her relationship with Killian, until it wasn’t fine.

Mary Margaret and Emma were sitting in the corner of the dining commons with their text books spread out in front of them, attempting to study for Ethics again.

None of them had done poorly on that first exam earlier in the semester, but it was a class that everyone in her little friend group seemed to be struggling with.

Mary Margaret chewed on the end of her pencil nervously, her eyes flicking to Emma every couple of seconds.

She finally couldn’t take it anymore, “What?” She asked, unnecessarily harsh.

“We are just worried about you Emma.” She said, like she was trying to explain something sad to a child.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to.” She said, turning back to her study guide.

“Things between you and Killian weren’t bad, and everything was probably blown out of proportion-” Mary Margaret started, but Emma really wasn’t in the mood to be lectured.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about this.” Emma said, not looking up from her study guide.

“But you won’t talk to anyone about it!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, startling both herself and Emma. Emma looked at her in surprise. Seeing that she had her friends attention, Mary Margaret continued, “You won’t talk to me, you won’t talk to Ruby. David thinks he did something to offend you because you are avoiding him now too. And you sure as hell won’t talk to Killian.”

“And what would I have to talk to him about.” She asked, still in a bit of shock from her friends tirade.

“I don’t know, how about starting with the weather, and seeing where it goes from there.” Mary Margaret said, frustration clear in her voice. “I don’t know, maybe you will end up talking about your relationship, which really needs work.”

Emma stared at her friend in disbelief. She had never heard the mild mannered woman speak to any of them this way.

Mary Margaret continued, “But don’t listen to me, your friend who only has your best interests at heart. Oh no, don’t listen to me at all, because you don’t want to own up to and face what I am saying, because it hurts.”

“Yes, it does hurt, because I trusted him. I don’t trust people very often, you know this. But I trusted him, and he broke that trust. And I can’t forgive that.” Emma said.

Mary Margaret stood up and gathered her books.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked, suddenly feeling very small.

“Somewhere else. You obviously don’t want to be around anyone right now. I thought I would make your life a little easier.” She said, slinging her bag over her shoulders and walking out.

Emma watched her leave in open mouth shock.

A few people were looking in her direction as well, wondering what had happened to cause the outburst. They all looked away when they noticed Emma looking around.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears well up unexpectedly. She wrapped her arms around the back of her head and squeezed, trying to get her emotions under control.

She didn’t like feeling this out of control.

It didn’t work, because the sobs boiled up anyway. So Emma laid her head down on the table and wept.

.o.O.o.

Killian was wandering around campus, seeing if he could stumble upon Emma along the way.

He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he was actively looking for her, but he wanted to run into her all the same.

He just didn’t know how he was going to face her after the horrible things he had said to her.

And if David had gone so far as to punch him in response to what words he so carelessly threw at her the last time they spoke, when all she was trying to do was comfort him, he deserved her avoiding him and never agreeing to talk to him ever again.

But if Killian was anything, he was still a gentleman, and he felt the need to apologize to Emma, even if it wouldn’t fix everything.

As he made his way through the library to the third floor to find a book that he needed to read for his literature class next week, his luck seemed to turn in his favor.

Emma was sitting at one of the back tables, her back to him and headphones on, drawing.

Killian took a deep breath to steady himself before he pushed through the doors leading to that section.

Deciding to forgo looking for his book first, he slowly made his way over to where she was sitting.

As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of what she was drawing over her shoulder, and it stopped him short.

It was a picture of him. Well, both of them actually.

The only spot of color on the page was a small flame in Emma’s hands, lighting up the two of them. It looked like the male figure in the painting was crouched over, with tendrils of darkness seeming to pour out of him and surround the two of them. The male’s face was turned up towards the female figure, who was bending down to shine her light on his face.

Emma’s hair, as it was clearly her in the rendering, was blowing around her on an unseen wind, the darkness weaving amongst the tresses. A small smile was gracing her face as she reached down and touched a hand to the male’s shoulder.

The darkness had moved away from that hand, pushed away by Emma’s light.

He shook his head to clear it. The drawing was mesmerizing indeed, but he needed to try and get his thoughts into order before he said something to her again that he would regret. Again.

He moved around her, giving her enough space so that she would see him around and he wouldn’t startle her.

Emma looked up at him in a bit of surprise, moving to take the headphones off her ears.

He spoke before she could say anything. “Is it alright if I join you?”

“Yeah, sure.” She said, tucking her headphones around her neck.

Killian pulled the chair out across from her and sat down.

Now that he was sitting in front of her, all of the words that he wanted to say to her evaporated from his mind. He clenched his hand around his blunted wrist and stared down at the table.

His legs began bouncing under the table with nervous energy.

He could feel Emma’s eyes on him for a long minute before she sighed and Killian heard her pull her headphones over her ears again.

He listened to the rhythmic scratch of the pencil against the paper as she drew and hummed under her breath to herself for a few minutes, before she stopped where she was at and sighed.

“Can I say something?” She asked.

He looked up to see her folding the notebook shut and setting it aside.

“I wanted to say I was sorry.” She said, looking him in the eyes.

He could feel the confusion written on his face. If anyone should have apologized it was him. He said as much.

“I won’t argue with you there, but we both said stuff that we didn’t mean and I overreacted, both times.” She said, alluding to the first time they had an argument when he forced her to try and tell him what had happened to her.

Curious, he asked “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s time I finally told you about how I started at Greenwood.”

o.O.o

Emma watched as Killian’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Swan, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do. You told me enough about what happened to you, and so much has happened between us that I, I think I do.”

He watched her expectantly.

“So, this isn’t any easy story for me to tell.” She said, wringing her hands together nervously. “Only David knows this whole story, not Mary Margaret, not Ruby. So you are going to have to give me a minute.”

“Okay. So. Um, I first discovered my powers when I was 12.” She said, closing her eyes.

She could still remember that day in such vivid details.

The curtains in her bedroom were swaying gently in the breeze coming through the windows. It was finally getting warm enough out that her mother had said they could finally start keeping the windows open and Emma had pressed the full advantage, throwing all of the windows as far open as she could.

She was sitting at her desk, practicing drawing the figurine that the art teacher at her school had given her to practice drawing people’s bodies when she first started hearing it.

It sounded like someone was stumbling through the house. Cabinets were being opened and shut, and it sounded like someone had bumped into the table in the hallway leading to her mother and stepfather’s room and knocked the picture over.

Her Mother and brother were out at his baseball game, but they had mentioned that her stepfather would be home before they were able to make it.

She had never been fond of the man who had married her free-spirited mother and chained her to his side.

It seemed to Emma like something in her mother died after she had married him.

“Papa?” She called out, opening her bedroom door and peering out towards the main house. Emma had never wanted to call him dad, he could never replace the kind hearted man who had helped raise her until he passed away 4 years ago when she was 8.

The loud, lurching steps picked up again and her stepfather appeared at the end of the hallway, leading to where hers and Sean’s rooms were.

“There’s the little bitch.” Her step-father said. Something wasn’t right.

“Your step father was an alcoholic.” Killian said, jolting her from the memory.

“A horrible one,” She responded, “but no one but Sean will acknowledge it in the family.”

He lurched unsteadily down the hallway towards her, and she stumbled back into her room. He had shown some odd behaviors towards her before, like watching her and her friends playing a little too closely while they were over at the house to the point of where mother had yelled at him to knock it off, but nothing like what was happening now.

“You always have to disrespect me in front of my friends, don’t you? Can never show me any respect or acknowledge the fact that i run this household.” He said, leaning in towards her, his reeking breath in her nose, in her mouth.

“What?” She stammered out, pushing further away from him and against her bed.

MENTION OCCURS BELOW THIS POINT

“It’s time I teach you some manners.” He said, grabbing the front of her shirt and pulling her into him.

She frantically moved to push away from him, pushing at his chest and stomach with her fists.

He was too strong though, and his fist tore through her shirt. “There you are.” He said.

Sobbing.

Emma was sobbing.

His body loomed over her as he pushed her down onto her bed, and his hands were everywhere. All over her chest, and legs and pulling at the waist of her pants.

The tears were beginning to fade as she was becoming more and more numb to what was happening to her.

But all of a sudden she felt all of the weight of his body on top of her and she was angry, she was mad that this was happening to her.

MENTION OVER, CONTINUE READING HERE.

The rage barreled through her like a storm, and she wanted to explode into a white hot ball of flame.

Then he was screaming, terrible horrible screams as flames clung to him as he shoved off of her.

They burned through his clothes and his skin started to blacken as the flames that wouldn’t go out began to consume him.

Emma was watching him in shock. She couldn’t process what was happening. She reached out for him on instinct and she noticed the flames burning around her hands. They didn’t burn her, but she could feel the heat rolling off of them.

She looked away from her hands as she heard a crash.

He was still trying to put the flames out as they continued to burn him.

He grabbed onto those beautiful curtains still swaying in the breeze and in an instant they went up in flames as her step fathers charred body slumped to the floor before the window.

Emma screamed as her entire room began to get engulfed in flames. She couldn’t make the fire in her hands stop, it just kept burning. Hot, steaming tears poured down her face. She couldn’t make it stop.

The flames began to roar around her louder.

“Emma!!!! EMMA!!!” She heard someone yell from somewhere else in the house.

Her mother came barreling into the room, but stopped and stood back when she saw the flames burning at her daughter’s hands. The charred remains of her second husband on the floor in front of the window where the curtains had been blowing in the breeze. Now ashes just floated on the wind.

Emma’s mother screamed in horror.

Horror at what she had done.

It was her brother who had inevitably pulled her from the house when her mother turned and ran from her.

“Emma.” Killian said as she came back to the present.

“I was taken to juvie the next day after they had released me from the hospital. They released me into protective custody a month later, since they didn’t know how to handle someone with my particular gifts at jail. I wasn’t volatile, I had no problem with flares, right from the start, but they didn’t know what to do with a 12 year old who had just burned her step father alive.”

Emma thought back to those days with her custody family. The father had a gift to manipulate wind, giving him the ability to smother any flames she could have possibly produced. He was a corrections officer at the prison as well, which made him the best possible match for her. He took her under her wing and they actually became fast friends during the time they spent together. The courts had relieved him of his duty at the prison to stay home and care for her. He helped her learn a bit about her powers, because no one had explained what had happened to her yet, and after getting over her fear of him in the beginning, she grew to trust and care for him. She cried when she was taken away from him. He cried watching her get dragged away from him too.

“And after a long trial, where my mother essentially disowned me from the family, I was sent here.” She finished. They figured it was the best place for her, because while she showed stunning control over such violent powers at such a young age, she had killed someone, even in self defense. And they couldn’t get around the fact that it made her High Risk, no matter what they did to try and figure something else.  She was stuck until Riggans said she wasn’t.

And that would never happen.

Killian was just staring at her, an expression she couldn’t identify on his face, and it was starting to freak her out a bit.

“You don’t have to say anything.” She said, “I know it’s all kinds of fucked up, but it’s my story. And one of these days I just have to own that.”

Killian reached out with his hand and wrapped his fingers around where her left ones were drumming on the table.

He squeezed her fingers and looked at her with a soft smile on his face. “I Love You.”

o.O.o

The look on Emma’s face when he said that was something he won’t ever forget. The way her face lit up and all traces of sadness from her story drained away.

“What?” She asked, a bit of a disbelieving laugh in her voice.

“You don’t have to say anything back, in fact, I don’t expect you to say anything back. But I just thought you should know that.” He said, still holding onto her left hand.

Emma’s lips pinched together in the way that surely meant that she was going to say something, but he cut her off.

“Besides, it’s time I finally told you what happened to me as well.” He looked right into her eyes, “Fair’s fair and all.”

Emma nodded, turning her hand around so that they could better hold hands on top of the table.

He thought back, not really sure how to begin his tale.

Emma squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging smile.

“So, you will remember I said I was a Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy? Right?”

She nodded in response.

“Well, at the start of last year, my ship was deployed out into the Pacific, the area around the Hawaiian Islands. We were to be doing military drills and partols with this group of ships from America’s Navy.

“A majority of the deployment went fine. Only a month or two before I arrived here, we were doing some drills out near some of the more remote Islands when we were attacked.” The day was coming back to him a bit more clearly now that he was thinking about it.

Killian was laying down in his bunk, reading a book Liam had left for him before he went on his own deployment five months before he had been shipped out here, when the first impact hit.

It had felt like some benevolent sea god had come up from the great blue deep and slammed his hands into the side of the ship, lurching starboard before righting herself quickly.

Killian had been tossed from his bunk, landing soundly on the floor in a heap of blankets as the sirens began going off, signaling the attack.

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his rifle and handgun from where they were tucked into the corner of his room and bolted out the door. There hadn’t been any comm as to where the attack was occuring, so he followed the outflux of other officers towards the upper decks of the ship. He was one of the few who didn’t have to participate in the current drill since he had been on deck for the previous three. His commanding officer had taken notice of it and given him a leave for the rest of the week, stating that he didn’t need to over do it. They were just drills anyway.

Not anymore, he thought bitterly.

Another blast struck the ship, causing him and the few officers still on this level to stumble back into the wall as the ship rolled ominously again.

Whoever was attacking them had a lot of firepower with them.

He was up on steady feet before a majority of the others, and he pressed his advantage as he began storming through the halls, grabbing the top of the ladder with both hands and pulling himself up to the next level.

He made it up onto the main deck and took in the chaos happening in front of him.

And then they were on him. He barely ducked out of the way of someone swinging the butt of a gun towards his head and turned around, swinging his own weapon around and knocking his attacker out cold. But where one went down it seemed like 3 more appeared in his place.

Killian had never seen any kind of attack like this, not even in his lessons in the academy.

After dispatching his next 4 attackers, he pushed his way out and further onto the deck, looking to find a way to get to his post at the long guns on the far side of the deck from where he had emerged.

The fighting was too packed together for him to properly fire the rifle, so he kept it strapped over his back to try and keep it out of his way while he was fighting his way through the throng of people on the deck.

That proved to be a bit of a downfall, however when someone grabbed the rifle and used it to yank him back, forcing him onto his back onto the deck.

Killian didn’t even think, he just reacted, putting his handgun up and firing.

The body of one of the attackers collapsed next to him, apparent from his lack of proper uniform.

Scrambling up to try and avoid another such attack, he pushed past a few more officers before making it to the rail, where the fighting was a little thinner.

“That sounds like it was horrible.” Emma said, making him jump a bit.

“Yeah, it was horrible. The fighting here hadn’t been near as confusing as it had been on the deck of that ship.” He commented, grateful that she had spoken, grounding him back in the present. He squeezed her hand in thanks and continued.

Making it as best he could, he started making his way towards the bow of the boat, hoping to figure out where the attack had originated and helping in any capacity possible.  Pausing his flight as two uniformed soldiers shoved an attacker overboard in front of him, he looked down the railing and out to the horizon to see if he could find any sign of the vessel that had attacked them. Seeing none, he pressed forward again.

The attacking vessel must be located on the other side of the ship, he thought to himself.

He made it around the front of the ship where the wheel was located, finally making it to his destination of one of the long guns stationed on the starboard side of the ship.

It seemed that his trip was going to be in vain though, as the metal around him in the deck gave an ominous groan.

Pausing in shock and confusion was his undoing, as the metal gave out beneath him, taking himself and three other officers down a level and crashing them into the floor beneath them.

“What in the Bloody fuck just happened.” One of the other officers next to him groaned.

Killian himself was wondering the same thing. He did a quick stock of himself to make sure he didn’t get injured in the fall.

While his head was spinning, he didn’t think that he had actually hurt himself anywhere else. As he moved to push himself up, he felt an acute twinge in his back and laid himself back down.

Damn. He thought to himself, hoping he hadn’t sustained a back injury.

What had Liam always told him about possible neck and back injuries?

Killian moved his toes in his boots experimentally, then his feet and ankles. After doing a quick check up of his legs and arms, he suspected that all he had done was pull a muscle, as everything else seemed to be functioning properly.

He opened his eyes and looked around him.

The other officers that had fallen with him were all in various states. Two were already working to push themselves up and get themselves oriented as to what was happening around them.

The other, another lieutenant that he recognized from down the hall from him wasn’t moving.

Killian pushed himself up with a groan, ignoring the twinge in his back and reached his hand out towards the other officer.

“Jenkins?” He asked, shoving on his shoulder. The other two officers turned to watch what he was doing.

Killian pushed on Jenkins shoulder again, this time with more success. He was rewarded with a groan.

One of the officers already standing rushed over, Killian noted the name and rank on his shirt. Commander Williams.

Williams stood over Jenkins and began to assess him quickly. Killian got himself fully up to his feet and pulled the rifle, which had thankfully survived the fall and was likely the cause of the twinge in his back, over his shoulder and into the crook of his arm.

He lined up with the other officer, Lieutenant-Commander Ronen, and they both began advancing down the hall, looking for whatever caused the cave in.

“Do you know what could have caused that?” He whispered to his companion.

“No clue, it almost seemed like it could have been one of those gifted blokes.” Ronen responded, turning slowly to cover Killian’s back as he cleared both directions of the fork in the hall.

“I didn’t think they allowed anyone with a gift to enlist in the Navy.” He said, letting the Lieutenant-Commander take the lead in clearing rooms.

He turned slowly to check at their back again, a strange feeling skittering down his spine.

“They don’t.” was Ronen’s response.

The hairs on the back of Killian’s neck rose.

He reached out and tapped on Ronen’s shoulder, signaling him to stop in his checking of the rooms. Something didn’t feel right. Ronen looked over his shoulder at Killian, wondering what had caused him to stop in his tracks.

Before either of them had any time to blink, the floor under them groaned and collapsed, dropping them down not one but two levels through the ship’s decks again.

The landing this time around wasn’t any better than the first time around, but Killian managed to get his feet under him when they collided with the second deck on their way down, and was able to stand and point his rifle at the mysterious man who appeared just outside the destruction.

Though, pointing a gun at someone who appeared to have the ability to manipulate metal wasn’t his brightest idea, and he dropped the rifle as soon as he noticed the barrel began warping it’s way around back to face him.

“Who are you?” Killian demanded.

The man didn’t answer him, only moving around the rubble to advance on him and Lt. Com. Ronen, who still hadn’t stirred form his place on the ground.

“Stay BACK!” He shouted, yielding a step as he moved back towards Ronen, knocking him in the shoulder purposely with his foot.

“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER.” He demanded, holding his ground as Ronen sturred beneath him.

Good.

Good that he wasn’t seriously injured.

The man stopped a distance from them, cocking his head at them and looking at both of them with an intensity that was unsettling.

Another chill skittered it’s way down Killian’s spine, but he made every effort to not show that fear to the man across from him.

“And just what can you do?” The man asked, his voice like gravel, like he hadn’t used it in a while.

Ronen’s hand wrapped around Killian’s ankle. He did his best to suppress his surprise at the sudden contact. He held as still as possible as Ronen began feeling his way around his ankle and calf, looking for the handgun that he had strapped there.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, trying to keep the man’s attention on him and off what Ronen was trying to do.

“Just what kind of gift are you hiding underneath your skin?” the man asked, his voice catching and hissing on the word skin.

Killian grew more confused, he didn’t have any idea what this madman was talking about.

He cocked his head back at him, ignoring the way that spot on his back twinged.

The man grinned, exposing a mouth full of brown, rotted out teeth. “You have no idea what you can do, can you?”

Killian felt the gun come loose from his calf,  and suddenly a multitude of things happened in rapid succession.

Ronen rolled over next to him, extending the gun out in front of him.

The man in front of them extended his hand out towards Killian, as if he were reaching for something.

Killian reached to his waist and pulled the gun there, firing off a shot at the man, not knowing what he was about.

Ronen fired his gun a second later, right as something hard slammed into the middle of Killian’s back.

Killian grunted at the impact, and in an instant the world went black around him.

“It wasn’t like I had blacked out, I could still hear the world happening around me.” Killian said, coming back to the present again.

“I heard more gunshots ring out around me, and something blistering hit my hand after a few minutes. I think that was when I fully lost consciousness.”

“What happened after that?” Emma asked him quietly. Killian looked up at her, and she smiled softly at him. He quirked his lips up at her in return.

“After that I woke up in a helicopter, on my way to the Hawaiian Islands. They had done a bit for me in terms of taking care of my hand, but the Captain had determined me to be too risky to keep aboard until we made it back to the Islands ourselves. Somehow, I had blacked out the entire vessel. Even one of the smaller vessels and one of the American ships who had finally arrived to answer our distress calls gave reports that the entire vessel had disappeared into a black cloud, seeming to have disappeared into nothing, only to reappear a few minutes later.” He said, trying to think back to what the officer had told him when they landed and were able to move him to a more secure medical facility. “I had flared a few other times while I was unconscious, nothing as spectacular as the first time though. But I did succeed in darkening the infirmary several times, to the frustration of the staff working there.”

A small smile spread on his face at that thought. “Luckily for me, the Naval hospital on the main island also served to treat the gifted population of the state as well, so they were able to place me on a secure ward where they were more prepared to handle my flares while they treated my hand, or lack of it at that point. The had amputated while I was unconscious in the infirmary. hat was also when I got the notice that, as soon as I was healthy enough to endure a long travel, they were shipping me back to Britain, for my court marshall.”

His brows furrowed as he thought about everything that had happened after that.

“I didn’t know that Lieutenant Commander Ronen had died in those few minutes when everything had gone dark, and since I was the only one around besides the other mysterious gifted bloke, they had marshalled me on the charge of killing a fellow officer. Unfortunately I couldn’t prove that I hadn’t done it, and the round they recovered from him during the autopsy was fired from my gun. So they dishonorably discharged me from the Navy. That was where the real problems started though. Because they didn’t know where to send me after that.”

“Well, maybe it’s lucky they sent you here.” Emma said, her thumb brushing the back of his hand.

“I suppose, as none of the communities wanted to bring me on in the UK, and I was too old to be sent to one of the academies. Then they found out that the Americans had universities on their secure campuses and found one willing to take me on. They still hadn’t found a good way to suppress my powers while I was in custody for the marshall, and was still flaring every couple of days. There wasn’t anything that I could do to stop it, as it would happen when I would least expect it. And you Yanks had better ways of suppressing powers until you got them on a campus, so this was one of the best and safest places for them to send me.”

Killian saw her shiver, probably remember as he did the deadening power in those gloves.

“But the best thing that came out of them sending me here has to be the friends that I have made while I was here. I didn’t have many friends as I was busy doing work for the Navy. So it wasn’t all bad coming here.” He said, giving her a smile.

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” Emma said, smiling back at him. She took his hand in both of hers and leaned over the table towards him, a searching look in her eyes.

Killian leaned forward towards her, pausing just before his lip met with hers. He needed to be sure.

Emma released a shaky breath against his lips before they finally connected.

.o.O.o.

Kissing Killian again after all the time they had spent apart from one another, making their own lives miserable thinking the other hated them, was heaven.

It was everything she had been missing and more.

It was like the first bird song of the spring, or the smell of the first campfire burning in the fall, or the first rays of sunlight breaking through the endless night of winter.

She smiled into his mouth, groaning when he pressed his lips more forcefully into hers.

Oh yeah, she had definitely missed this.

Killian’s wrist reached around the back of her neck, holding her in place as he thoroughly reclaimed her mouth.

He broke away first, both of them short of breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I’m sorry too.” She whispered right back.

They both had said some horrible things to one another over the last few days, not intending to hurt one another and hurting each other all the same.

“Does this mean that we can try again?” She asked him, wanting to make sure that they hadn’t both destroyed this wonderful thing between them.

“I think that can be arranged.” He said, letting go of her hand to sweep her hair away from her face.

She smiled happily at him, relieved to be past this horrible bump in the road. “I love you.”

The answering smile on his face was nothing short of blinding, and Emma couldn’t have been happier.