#forever grateful for my friends who read my crap without knowing the characters and have to eat trout instead of premium salmon

[eightspringdays]

i admire so much those writers who have the incredible ability to narrate so much with so little because I feel like I write 10k words and say nothing at all.

Call me Victor Hugo because I Will Write 20k words just to describe the state of the french sewer system

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[anotherbeingsworld]

Homecoming (Bryce’s POV) - Part 2

Read Keiki’s POV

Summary: Imagines on meeting Keiki for the first time, but from Bryce’s perspective.

Characters: Bryce Lahela and Keiki Lahela.

Warnings: None, language-ish. Nothing more than that.

A/N: This is the second part for this series-ish? The first part was Keiki’s POV and I am very glad that all of you enjoyed it! This is entirely Bryce’s POV which is the scene before MC meets Keiki, and Bryce bringing home the groceries. Its like an imagine of what it would be like? If it’s not accurate or anything, I apologize. This is my take and, I hope it goes well. I deeply apologize if my grammar is wrong since english was definitely not my first language. Enjoy! (I have doubts sghsjskskss, but...enjoy...) // Thank you @fantasyoverreality98 for assuring me about the whole part, I am grateful! Much loveee <3

Tags:  @bitchloveskcbaseball , @storyofmychoices @jaxsmutsuo , @mvalentine , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @kacie-0156 , @simp-for-villains , @annekebbphotography , @brycelahel, @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @choices-confessions , @aylamwrites , @fantasyoverreality98 , @drakewalker04 , @baltersome , @thecordoniandiaries , @thundergom @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble, @ohramsey , @kelseaaa  , @rookie-ramsey , @bratzlahela

LINK TO MY MASTERLIST

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

The music is blaring, as he inspects the selfie that they took at the music festival. The others were dancing including Casey herself, as she looks like she is in her element. Bryce smiles at the sight remembering their small moment earlier, it certainly makes up for all the lost time they had.

His phone vibrated suddenly, as the familiar name appears on the screen. Keiki.

He felt a pang of worry , as she never calls even after his departure. He knew it was important. Bryce called out for Casey, as his eyebrows furrowed in worried which was sensed by Casey herself. She pulled Bryce out of the crowd, as they stopped at a vendor, where she looks worried at his sudden change of behavior.

'I need to go.' Bryce stated as he walks away answering the call before Casey could call back for him.

The conversation went by quickly, as he took the train back to his apartment. It took him by surprise, after their conversation. Bryce never thought about seeing her again, but… the thought never left his mind. Despite what his parents did, Keiki is still his sister above all. He felt a pang of guilt as he remembers the voicemail that he left during her birthday 6 months ago, as she was living her life luxuriously in Hawaii, or that’s what he thought.

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

Bryce was seated on one of the train seats, as it started to move. His mind was anxious, as he was trying to figure out the reason for Keiki's sudden arrival. He has a hunch that there were problems happening at home, but he shook the thought away since Keiki Lahela was known as his parent's very own princess that they would spoil rotten including a unicorn for her 5th birthday.

The walk to the apartment seems to slow down, as memories from his past (the good ones) are playing in his mind. Despite being years apart, Bryce and Keiki are each other’s best friends in the household. A memory during his senior year has floated in his mind as he is making his way back to the apartment. The memory was during a birthday celebration of his friend once upon a time, where the Lahela name was hated by the whole population of Maui.

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

Bryce was out with his ‘friends’ as they were celebrating the beginning of the senior year. They decided to hit the bar, as most of them had reached 18 including Bryce. The first few hours were okay, as they were having fun. But, their fun was cut short; by a local who recognize him.

“You!” The stranger yelled at his face, earning a number of stares from the bar.

Bryce looks over to his friends, as he swallows a lump in his throat. He wasn’t drunk, as he realized what will happen. But, he didn’t flinch as the stranger continues.

'You are one of them right?!' He suddenly pushes him as his body falls onto the floor. The customers let out a gasp, as the majority of them were recording the scene.

'What are you talking about man?' Bryce replies as he wipes the sweat forming on his forehead before he stood up. The stranger was looking furious at him.

'You ruined my life! I trusted your family, and this is what I get?! All of you are a bunch of bastards, who came here just to ruin our lives.' He yells once more, as the customers all looked at Bryce with hatred in their eyes.

'It's a Lahela!' One of the voices shouted as they came forward yelling at him for everything his parents had done in the past.

‘We were supposed to have a baby, and now… we lost all of our money because of you!’ Another voice was heard.

'Liars!' The chorus of chanting was heard, as Bryce immediately leave the premise. He sighs as the fate of his life was always going be this way. His phone beeped, and he saw horror; he was removed from every friend group and, there were threats to his position in the basketball team.

‘Crap.’ He places his phone back into his pocket, as he made his way back ‘home’.

The house was dark as it was almost one in the morning. He made his way inside as he saw one of the house staff was waiting for his arrival.

'Hey, Jones.' He said before Jones lets out an expression he knew all too well; he was in trouble.

Bryce nods before making his way to the office, where his father would conduct his 'business'. He has a huge hatred towards the room as it brought so many good memories that were disguises for their business. He pushed the doors where his dad, is stood waiting for him with a stern look in his eyes.

'Do you know how late it is?' His voice was cold, but Bryce didn't give a damn.

'It's almost 1 a.m. So?' He crossed his arms feeling tired of this so-called conversation.

‘You should be back before curfew!’ He slammed his hands on the table making him startled.

'I'm 18, I can take care of myself.'

He shook his head,

'No, it's my house. My rules!'

Bryce's eyes were filled with hatred,

‘Fine, I will leave this hellhole as soon as I can!’ He yells back, as his father looks at him stunned.

‘You dare talk to me like that?’ He just rolled his eyes in response.

‘I give you this life Bryce, you should be thankful for it!’ His voice boomed through the room, as he notes that people will hear this conversation but, he didn’t care.

His eyebrows furrowed in anger,

‘What life? Tell me what is this life you keep on mentioning about ?’ He paused before continuing.

‘You stole from people, you lie to them. You stole their lives, they lose everything because of what you did! And, who gets the blame? Me!’ Bryce pointed to himself letting the anger rolled out.

‘You know nothing, boy!’

Bryce lets out a scoff,

'Yeah, right?! I am not stupid, this life you had been giving me, it was never a gift. It’s just a stop that I had to go through before I leave this place forever’

Both of them stopped as they heard the door creaked open, revealing Keiki who is rubbing her eyes.

‘Dad, Bryce?’ Her soft voice was heard through the doorway making both of them quiet.

‘Hi sweetie, what happened?’ His dad’s voice transformed, as Bryce makes his way to Keiki.

‘I heard screaming, and… are you fighting with Bryce?’ She asked as her eyes gaze into Bryce’s making him soft.

‘No…we were just talking…’ His father replied as an attempt to convince her but, Bryce knows that she wasn’t convinced.

Bryce walks up to Keiki and took her by the hand,

‘Let’s go Keiki, I’m going to take you to bed.’ His voice made Keiki smile as both of them walk away from the room.

The walk was short, as Bryce accompanies Keiki to her room. They walked inside as Bryce gaze onto the spacious room. The walls were pink, as there were toys every corner of the room including a huge play-house that his parents bought for Keiki. He just shook her head, as he felt a tug on his shirt.

He glances and saw Keiki already in the bed, as her eyes filled with worried. A kid supposed to have fun at her age, not worrying over the adults.

'You okay kiddo?' His voice is soft as he lays the question out.

‘I just…I hate it when you fight with dad.’

Bryce chuckles at the statement,

‘It’s just… hard you know. Dad is different and, we just… have different heads.’ Bryce gestures to his head making Keiki giggle as he ruffles his hair as an attempt to calm her down.

The smile on her face, making him happy. He wasn't very close to his parents, but.. with Keiki. It's different, somehow it felt like an escape from the real world when he was invited to one of her playtimes.

‘Will you and dad will ever be okay?’ Her eyes hopeful as Bryce went quiet, don’t know what to answer as he didn’t know the answer himself.

Bryce just nods, without any words coming out. He didn’t want to give her false hope, knowing one day he will not be here to watch her grow up.

'I love you, Bryce.' Keiki said as she pulls him into a small hug, as Bryce returns it happily,

‘I love you too kiddo.’ He replies as he ruffles her hair once more before he retired for the night.

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

It was years ago, as it replays in his mind. It was one of the ‘good’ memories he had whilst being at home. After he left for college, he never looked back. He didn’t regret it, but…somehow he wished that his life was happier not for the sake of himself, but for Keiki.

His apartment was in view, as he quickens his steps up the stairs instead of the elevator. It was a short commute, but he felt himself feeling nervous by the sudden rush. He hasn’t seen Keiki in years, and… he didn’t know what to expect. He wished her a happy birthday 6 months ago. But, there were no replies.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure leaning against the door. Bryce quickly makes his way, his steps quicken as Keiki's head perked up at the sound. A small smile appeared on his face, as he did a quick look at her. She has grown up, and there no signs of hurt anywhere. He sighs in relief, and he stops at the door. He was about to say something, but… he shook his head before unlocking the door.

A new future that has been presented to him, and he will try his very best to be there for her. Honestly, Bryce didn't know how to feel but…somehow fate knows better than him. The fact that he had missed seeing her and this felt like a sign for him. He silently hopes that maybe they can be close once more like before. Hopefully.

THE END.

A/N: I hope all of you liked it! I am very nervous to post this, but... I tried my best! Thank you for reading! 🧡🧡

[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [11]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 11/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir can't stop smiling as she follows Dante through the streets of Fortuna. The aquarium had been everything she dreamed of and more: large tanks full of exotic fish, an open pool where she had been allowed to pet a sea urchin and a turtle—even if the ticklish sensation of the urchin's spines made her squeal—and even a hallway that passed through an exhibit where a shark swam directly overhead. Dante had been more than patient with her when she stopped and stared in wonder, gently pulling her to the side to allow others to pass.

Her hand reaches to her neck, where a charm he'd bought her rests. It's a simple thing, a shark's tooth on a leather thread, but she cherishes it more than anything else she owns, and he'd seemed pleased by how happy she'd been to receive it. Even now, he's more relaxed than he's been in weeks, strolling along with his hands in his pockets, pointing out the different shops and buildings he recognizes.

She's a bit nervous about meeting Nero and Kyrie again, more so meeting their children, but the high of the aquarium makes it easy to shift that into anticipation. Lir has always been good with children, something that came about when she'd been picked to teach weekly classes for reading and writing, and she hopes these will take to her as easily as the ones from her home had.

Their house is small, but cute, a bike sitting on the tiny patch of grass that is their front lawn and a selection of different kinds of balls on the steps. When Dante rings the doorbell there are shouts and footsteps inside, and Lir is shocked when two boys fling the door open. "Dante!" they scream, launching themselves at him.

"Hey boys!" he laughs, catching each one in an arm. Lir chuckles as he swings them upside down, holding them like footballs.

"Can I touch your gun?" one asks.

"No, Nero would kill me."

"How about me? Can I have one?" the other pleads.

"Maybe later. Go tell Nero we're here."

He swings them both upright and they take off, pushing each other as they disappear in the house. Dante turns to her with a grin and Lir laughs. "Is it always like that when you come over?" she asks.

"Pretty much! They'll be askin' for stories all night. Always gotta be careful which ones I tell, or Nero'll scold me about givin' 'em nightmares."

She nods, and then Nero appears in the doorway, eyeing both of them. "Guns?" he asks, and Dante shakes his head. "Sword? Any other sort of weapon?"

"Just my good looks," Dante jokes.

Nero rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't hurt yourself stretchin' like that." He steps to the side to allow them to enter. "Come on in. Kyrie's makin' spaghetti."

"It smells delicious," Lir says as she enters, and he smiles at her. "Thank you for having us."

"He treating you okay?" Nero asks suspiciously as he closes the door.

Lir nods, and he leads them back through the house. The boys are in the living room watching television and shooting tiny cars along an elaborate racetrack that takes up most of the floor. "Woah!" Dante exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he plops down with them.

Nero nudges her arm. "Come on with me, you don't have to play too," he says with a laugh.

Lir glances back as he leads her towards the kitchen, smiling to see him listening to the boys excitedly talk as they climb into his lap. She would have never guessed he would be so good with kids, and it really makes her happy . . . but then she realizes that is an incredibly dangerous train of thought and focuses squarely on the back of Nero's head.

In the kitchen, they find Kyrie humming to herself as she stirs a pot on the stove. The room smells of garlic and tomatoes and spices, and Lir breathes it in deeply, her mouth watering; visiting the aquarium had left her with a larger appetite than usual, so she's eager to taste the dinner Kyrie has spent so long on. "Get'cha something to drink?" Nero asks.

Lir nods, moving on instinct towards the stove. "What can I do to help?"

"Sit and relax," Kyrie laughs. "You're our guest."

She pauses, then takes a seat at the small table in the kitchen, where she'll be in easy reach if she's needed. Nero sets a glass of white wine in front of her and settles across from her with a bottle of beer clutched loosely in his hand. "Sorry if this is abrupt," he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I wanted to talk to you for a minute without Dante around."

"What about?"

Instead of Nero, it's Kyrie who answers, "He's worried that you might not be happy since this is an arranged marriage. Yes," she adds when Lir inhales sharply, "Nero told me. I'm not one to judge, so don't think that I will. But, having seen how poorly they can go, we both just want to make sure you're alright."

"Yes, it's all wonderful!" she answers immediately, wincing a bit as her voice goes a bit high pitched. Lir clears her throat when they exchange a glance, but she continues on, "Everything is fine. Dante treats me very well, I'm very happy. I'm glad to be here."

"Your family seemed intense," Nero says. He leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. "Did they pressure you?"

Lir shrugs, not sure how to answer. "Yes and no. But it was my decision in the end. We needed to do something about the oath, and Dante and I . . ." She sucks in a breath, wanting to avoid that topic altogether. "We figured it was the best solution."

Unfortunately by their expressions, Lir can see her explanation wasn't enough. "What oath?" Kyrie asks just as Nero says, "Best solution?"

"The, uh . . ." Lir shifts uncomfortably. "Sparda and . . . Well, he . . ."

"Sparda," Nero snorts, shaking his head. "At what point are people going to give up all this stupid crap?"

"Nero!" Kyrie scolds. He looks appropriately chagrined, and Kyrie sighs. "Lir, your business is your own. We just want to know you are safe and happy."

Lir nods. "I am."

"Good." Kyrie hands Nero the potholder as he moves to drain the pot. "So . . ." Kyrie says with a wink. "Are we expecting any little ones soon?"

Her heart pounds uncomfortably in her chest. It's an innocent enough question, one she'd heard directed to her friends, who would smile coyly and beat around the bush until all of them were laughing about it. But for her? Is it even possible? She's been regular since she was twelve, but there's no telling if any sort of pregnancy between her and Dante would hold, given that he's half-devil. Yet hadn't Sparda had children just fine, even if it had taken him two thousand years?

"Not yet," she murmurs. "We're still adjusting to this, and children would mean . . ." We'd have to have sex again, she nearly says, but cuts that short. "What about you?"

"Not until after we're married." Nero calls over his shoulder. "Besides, the ones we've got now are more than enough."

As if on cue, there is a crash from the living room, and Nero sighs as he places the pot back on the stove. "What have they done now?" he grumbles as he walks through the kitchen door.

Lir stands as well, but Kyrie just laughs and points to a drawer. "Will you set the table? We're just about ready."

Glad for something to do, she gathers silverware and plates and moves into the dining room on the side. It's a bit cramped, just enough space for six chairs, but Lir can't help but smile to herself as she carefully arranges the place settings, even folding napkins on top in pretty arrangements. This is much more her element, and when Dante swings into the dining room a moment later with one kid on his hip and the other on his back, Nero trailing after, they all stop short. "Wow," Nero says, lifting one of the boys and planting him on a chair.

Lir smiles, and Dante hands off the other kid before walking around to stand next to her. "This looks really nice!" he beams, holding out his hand to help her to a seat.

She looks at his extended palm and swallows thickly before pulling out a chair. "It's no trouble," she says, quickly sitting down.

He gives her a strange look, and she doesn't miss the glance Nero and Kyrie share as they bring the food to the table, and her face burns. After what her mother told her, touching his hand seems too risky; while Lir can't remember if she's done it before, and knows that she probably has—hadn't he helped her up after she'd fallen once?—she's afraid that doing it now, when they've gotten to know each other, will end with her parents taking her away.

"This looks delicious," she says to Kyrie. "Thank you."

Kyrie smiles, though it seems a tad uneasy. "Of course. Dante is like family, and you're included in that now."

Silence descends, broken only by the soft scraping of silverware over plates as they portion out the spaghetti and toasted bread, the two boys intent on eating, and Lir does her best not to sink into her seat. This can be salvaged, she thinks, and she turns to Nero. "Have you lived in Fortuna long?"

He shrugs, grating cheese over his pasta. "My whole life. Grew up in an orphanage for a while. Then Kyrie's dad took me in."

"Childhood sweethearts," Lir murmurs. "That's really sweet."

"Did you have someone before you moved here?" Nero asks.

There is a loud thump under the table followed by Nero's "ow!" Lir jumps, not sure if it was Dante or Kyrie who did it, but she answers, "No, it wasn't exactly encouraged."

"Did you know that my birthday is next week?" the younger boy pipes up.

Relieved for the interruption, Lir shakes her head. "I didn't! Happy birthday! How old will you be?"

He puts up five fingers. "Will you come to the party? Kyrie is making a cake and she promised it would be chocolate."

"That would be very nice," Lir answers.

She catches Dante smiling at her when the other boy asks, "Do you and Dante have babies yet?"

Dante chokes on the mouthful of beer he'd just taken, and her face feels like it's on fire, both from the question and his reaction. "No," she says gently. "We don't. Do you know what that means?"

The boy's nose wrinkles. "You haven't kissed?"

Lir laughs softly. "It means, of course, that you'll get more presents from us on your birthday if you've been a good boy. Have you been a good boy?"

He nods his head eagerly. "Yeah! I can tie my shoes and I'm learnin' how to write and I can spell my name!"

The boys dominate the rest of the conversation, and Lir is happy to ask questions with the occasional interjection from Nero or Kyrie. She can feel Dante's eyes on her though, and at one point swears she feels his hand on her leg, but when she looks down it is gone.

Kyrie offers coffee after dinner, but Lir glances at Dante. "We should get back," she says. "It was a long day, I'm a bit tired. If you don't mind?"

"Of course," Kyrie agrees. "I'm so happy the two of you came to visit, and I know the boys are, too. Nero, will you show them out?"

"Yeah." He stands, jerking his head. "C'mon. Least I can do is make sure you get to the crossroads safely."

Lir and Dante follow him. "This is far enough," Dante says when they're on the porch. Nero turns to him with a frown, and he shrugs. "Kyrie'll need your help with the kids, and I can get us back to our room. No need to worry. Besides, I need to talk to Lir alone."

"Careful out there," Nero says as he nods towards the street. "Demons don't normally come this far towards the water but strange things can happen." He glances at Lir and grins. "Of course, now that the two of you are hitched I guess we don't have to look there for those fuckers, do we?"

Lir sucks in a sharp breath and Dante punches his arm. "Watch the fucking language, kid," he says good-naturedly, then gives a wave as he hops down the steps.

She follows after, ignoring Dante when he holds his hand out to her. Instead she tugs her cardigan closed as they turn down the street. "They are a lovely family," Lir says.

"Yeah. Kid's got it nice now. And it's good that he does. He sure went through enough shit thanks to the Order."

Lir glances at him; his expression is guarded, not quite closed off, and she presses carefully. "What happened then? I know there were demons in the street, and a statue came to life, but the details weren't in the papers."

They pause at a crosswalk, and Dante watches the light. "A cult sprung up around my old man. Called him The Savior, built a church and a statue. Over time, I guess they got powerful enough that Fortuna couldn't do much about 'em. Anyway, they were turnin' themselves into demons, and they opened hell gates all over the city. I took care of those while Nero dealt with them. They'd raised him for years as a sacrifice." He pauses as they start to cross, then adds, "Not so different from you, I guess."

Lir stops, looking up at him in shock and hurt. "I'm not a sacrifice, Dante," she says harshly. 

He looks at her and shrugs. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't! I'm not . . ." She folds her arms and huffs, suddenly and furiously hurt. "I'm not anything."

"You're my wife. That's something." Lir stops on the sidewalk, and he continues on for a few steps before noticing and turning to face her. "I didn't want to push ya. I get it, I'm not the easiest person to talk to, and, honestly, I'm surprised you ain't cut and run yet. But something's buggin' you. Has been ever since yer mother called the shop. I thought comin' here would be nice for you, seein' the aquarium, maybe help you figure it out on your own."

"Dante," she whispers, clinging to herself.

"So, you can tell me, or not."

"Your wife," she murmurs. "Your wife. That's all I am, all I was meant to be."

"That's not what I—"

"Raised as a sacrifice, right?" Her lip trembles as she looks at him angrily. "A wife for you, to cook and clean and take care of the son of Sparda, right? Nothing else, nothing else wanted or needed."

Dante frowns. "What—"

"And you know the worst part about it?" Lir cries, her shouting actually drawing a few looks. Dante glances around, rubbing the back of his neck, just like Nero, and that makes her even angrier. Not caring about who is looking, she shouts, "You don't even care about Sparda! Or Ler, or any of it! It's all just a big dumb joke to you all, but this is my life!"

"Lir," he hisses, stepping closer and bending down. "You might not want to shout the name Sparda in the middle of the street."

"Why not? Let them hear about how useless he was at following through on his promises, or writing them down!" She stares up at him defiantly. "And you know what, Dante? It wasn't even necessary! They got it wrong! All we have to do is shake hands, and it's done, it's over with. So here!" Lir holds out her hand. "Shake and be done with it, and send me home. Just like you've wanted to do since I set foot in your shop."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He grabs her, not by the hand but by the arm, frowning down into her face. "What are you talking about?"

Lir grits her teeth. "We didn't have to marry. They had it wrong. So you'll be sending me back then, right? Well I'll save you the trouble, because I—I'm leaving."

Dante's eyes go wide. He drops his hand and takes a step back. "You're leaving?"

She presses her lips together, not knowing what to say. This isn't at all how she wanted to tell him, or do this—hell, she doesn't want to leave at all. But she is too angry now to back down, and Lir is afraid if she doesn't call her own bluff, she'll never be able to know for certain if Dante wants her, truly wants her. 

"Yes," she answers. "I was going to tell you when we got back, but . . ." Lir looks down so he won't see her eyes get watery. "This is for the best, Dante."

"What the fuck for?" He sounds confused and angry, but, worse, he sounds hurt, and she winces. "You said you didn't want to go back there. You said you wanted to stay."

"That was before."

"Before? Before what? Lir, if this is about us having sex—"

"It's not!" she insists. "It's . . . You always told me that you weren't the marrying type, and you didn't even want to do this until my parents showed up. Even then, it was just an obligation, so we don't have to . . . We don't have to keep doing this. I'll go home, and you can go back to the life you like without me in the way."

Dante shakes his head. "But Lir, I . . ."

"I should go back," she says, as if trying to convince herself. "I know you had this vacation planned, and the room . . . You can stay and I'll take the train back."

To her surprise, he reaches out and cradles her face in his hands. Lir blinks up at him, her heart pounding as he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. She sinks into his touch, daring to hope that he will ask her to stay. As he steps closer, his face inching towards her, she imagines he will kiss her, and tell her he wants her, and all of this will be okay.

"There's no trains this late," he says instead. "Come back to the room and stay the night. I'll take you back to the shop in the morning."

Miserably, she nods, and they finish the walk back to the hotel in a heavy, oppressive silence. The fact that there's only one bed—something she'd barely noticed before—sends a fresh wave of tears to her eyes, which she does her best swallow. The last thing she wants after making such a mess of things is to cause Dante any more discomfort, particularly on her account.

Dante glances between her and the bed. "I'll take the floor," he offers gruffly. "You'll need sleep if you're goin' home tomorrow."

"No, no it's fine—"

He doesn't answer, just disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Lir uses the opportunity to quickly change, pulling on a nightgown and stashing her clothes. She should pack, but Lir can't bring herself to do it, and when Dante finally emerges she rushes in for some peace so she can get herself together.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, taking as much time as she can, not wanting to face him yet. When she has used up as much time as she thinks she can without him coming to find her, Lir turns off the light and opens the door.

Thankfully the room is dark, but when she makes her way to the bed she is surprised to find Dante on one side. Lir slips into the other, and without turning he mumbles, "Are you sure this is alright?"

"It's for the best," she answers uncertainly.

He huffs a humorless little laugh. "Best for who? You want to go back, that's one thing, but don't say it's for me. I already told you, I like havin' you around. Don't know how many times I have to say it before you believe it."

Lir rolls to her side and looks out the window. The lights of the city make the harbor glitter a bit, and suddenly she is homesick for her own seaside town. But the feeling is unwanted, mixing with wanting Red Grave, and the Devil May Cry, and Dante. He likes having her around . . . but that feels worse somehow.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," she whispers.

"Figured she told you something when I saw your face after you hung up," he mutters. "Just don't do it again."

"Not just about that." Lir feels him shift, the bed dipping and sheets twisting as he rolls over, and she wonders if he's facing her, if she should do the same. "I don't want to go back. There's just . . . I feel so guilty about staying. Your whole life was upended over something that could have taken five seconds, you've had to deal with me and my family. It doesn't seem right to ask to stay after all of this."

She can practically hear him thinking, the subtle bob of his throat and the way he exhales slowly when deeply considering something. It's one of the things about him Lir didn't know she knew until she knew it, like how he likes his socks folded and that he likes peanut butter on top of jelly, not the other way around. She listens to him breathe and think and she thinks of more, like how he slouches when he's paying attention but sits forward when he's tired, how he dusts the picture on his desk every day without fail, how he purposefully leaves her snacks on the bottom shelves where she can reach. Her chest grows tight as she thinks about all the things she's learned about Dante, and how much more she wants to learn, but now she might not get the chance.

"I ain't chasing you, Lir," he murmurs. "If you want to go, if you feel that strongly about it, then you can go. I've said what I needed to say. Sleep on it tonight and you can decide in the morning."

She hears him shift again, rolling over, and Lir looks out the window. He's said his peace, except for the three words she's wanted to hear most.

[donteattheappleshook]

AU Prompt: Emma pushed Killian away when he confessed his feelings to her. He’s finally returned home, a bit broken by the world. Will she finally have the guts to tell him what she always regretted not saying? (Can be smutty or not)

Sorry this took a few weeks but here it is! Thank you for my first ever prompt! I don’t know if this is what you wanted but this is what it turned into... nearly 10000 words of friends to lovers angst.

You can read it on Ao3

Send me your prompts!

Emma met Killian Jones when she was seventeen years old and she hadn’t liked him one bit. From the moment he’d first said hello to her she’d read him as a cocky, smooth talking broody type who probably liked to win over girls with his accent and his Edward Cullen like aloofness. She had not been a fan. She’d let him know too, on multiple occasions. 

She’d spent most of her time avoiding him for the first month of the semester and she was doing a pretty good job of it actually. That is, until she got detention. For being late. How unfair was that? It wasn’t her fault that Ruth’s car wouldn’t start in the morning and so she and David had had to walk to school. David got away with it, he always did. He was sweet and friendly and he could charm teachers like it was nobody’s business. 

Emma had scowled and defended her innocence and had ended up with detention. She loved the guy, really. Ever since he and Ruth had taken her in a year ago she was nothing but grateful for their kindness and love. She’d even started referring to him as her brother. She just hated how much better he was at being a person than she was sometimes. 

That was the second time she met Killian Jones. She was shocked to find him there. Despite her first impression she had managed to discover that he was, at his core, a nerd. He may dress like the love interest in a teen movie but he spent most of his time in the library or sitting under trees reading or doing homework. He even wore glasses sometimes, these big, awful square things that took over half his face. So what was he doing in detention?

“Afternoon, Swan,” he said when she walked in. He was immediately shushed by the teacher who had gotten the unfortunate role of supervising them. “I’m just being friendly,” she heard him mutter under his breath. 

They were the only two in there today. They had to stay for an hour after school. She guessed the punishment for being late to class was being late to dinner. They were told to sit silently and to either do homework or read. Emma figured she might as well try to get through some of her English homework. She was crap at it and it was the one subject that David couldn’t help her with. She’d rather do it here then at home. 

She started working through the questions for Act 1. Why the hell did they still study Shakespeare? The guy was dead four hundred years now. Give it up already - let him rest in peace. She was working on the third question - guessing the answer to the third question was more like it - when she heard a small cough beside her. She looked up to find Killian leaning over in his seat, his own homework in front of him.

“That’s the wrong answer,” he said quietly and she raised a brow at him.

“What?”

“Your answer, Mercutio isn’t Romeo’s cousin. Benvolio is. Mercutio is just his friend.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t being condescending or self-righteous. He was just… letting her know. Trying to help her, she realised. He looked nervous as he glanced at her and then back at his book. 

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“I’m in your English class,” he said, looking down, ears turning red. Right. And she was a jerk. She felt bad, he looked a little dejected and it was her fault. She hadn’t seen him hanging around with many people, he was usually alone. Like her. She wondered then, a bit sadly, if maybe he wasn’t alone because he wanted to be. Maybe he was alone because he didn’t have anyone - like her. 

“Thanks,” she said with a smile and he gave her a small one in return. “Um, do you know who the hell Tybalt is?” 

His smile widened and he nodded as he leaned over to help her. The teacher told them to knock it off but he insisted that they were trying to help each other complete the same homework. He even argued that it was more character building than just sitting in silence. He was damn lucky that he seemed to have some of that same charm that David had when it came to teachers. The teacher waved them away, letting them continue to work together. 

She finished her homework a lot faster than she would have without him. And she understood the story a little better than she had coming in to detention. She was reminded then that that was where they were and as she looked at Killian, with his red ears and his shy smile and hunched shoulders and his dumb glasses, she had to ask. 

“What did you do to get in here?” His smile faltered just a tad. He scratched behind his ear nervously. 

“I, um, I punched Eric.”

“You what?” she demanded, loud enough that the teacher glared. Of all the things she’d expected - that was not one of them. 

“He was picking on Belle. He threw her book in the snow and made fun of her for liking to read - I mean, who the hell makes fun of someone for reading?” 

Emma felt her lips curling up a bit at his incredulous tone. “What, is Belle your girlfriend or something,” she teased. He frowned at her, looking confused.

“No,” he said. “She’s with that strange Scottish exchange student who’s name I can’t pronounce. But she’s a person and she’s sweet and Eric is an asshole and well, Belle is only about yea big,” he said, bringing his thumb and index finger close together. “I couldn’t do nothing,” he insisted. Emma laughed. 

Two things changed that day. One, Emma understood Shakespeare for the first (and last) time in her life. And two, she decided to make Killian Jones her friend. 

They were inseparable after that. At school  they spent almost all of their time together. In class they sat next to each other, they chatted in the halls between bells, they ate lunch together, and Killian ate dinner at their house regularly. Emma learned fairly quickly that his own home wasn’t a place he liked to be when he could avoid it. 

His mother had died when he was young and his father had raised him and his brother for a few years but finally decided that he couldn’t handle raising his sons on his own so when Killian’s brother went off to university, he had sent him to live with his aunt Cora in Boston. She was, in Killian’s own words, not a very nice woman. 

It was then that Emma realised how similar she and Killian were. They’d both been abandoned and left behind by the people who were supposed to care about them more than anyone. His father had sent him away. Her parents had abandoned her by the side of the road. Both their parents had chosen to give them up. And so she invited him for dinner, because Ruth and David were the best thing that had ever happened to her and she thought he could use a little bit of the Nolans in his life. 

He and David got along like a house on fire. She was surprised considering how David was such a jock, and Killian revealed dorkier and dorkier interests with every day that she knew him. But they were similar, she could see that, in their friendliness and openness and their humor. Killian told her that David reminded him of his brother and that made him miss him less. 

David also quickly became the bane of her existence, insisting that she and Killian were secretly in love with each other and getting on her case to just admit it already so that they could get married and have lots of babies like they both clearly wanted. Emma usually punched him for that. 

She and Killian were friends. That was all. She’d had few real friends in her life and she wasn’t going to screw this one up by developing feelings for him. No matter how cute he looked when his hair fell onto his forehead despite his best efforts to push it back. No matter how much he made her laugh or how much she enjoyed when they watched a movie late on the weekend and he let her fall asleep with her head in his lap. No matter how she thought he looked kind of hot when he got mad every time she beat him at Scrabble - which was all the time. They were friends. 

Emma had tried love once. She was sixteen, just when Ruth and David had first taken her in. There had been a guy. He had been in one of her group homes a while back, before he aged out and they had stayed in touch. They’d reunited when they found themselves both in the same city. 

He was older but she didn’t think that mattered. What was five years when they’d lived so many of the same experiences? Ruth hadn’t approved of the situation but she’d stayed mostly quiet about it - their relationship not strong enough for her to impose her views yet. 

She’d thought Neal was the love of her life. But then, she’d had a pregnancy scare and he’d run away faster than a bat outta hell. She’d never heard from him since. She hadn’t been pregnant, thank god. She was not ready to be a mother. But to see how little she meant to him, how despite all his pretty words and promises he had left her so easily the second he was faced with her being in his life forever… it had hurt. It had destroyed her, really. So she figured love wasn’t really worth it in the end. 

She’d met Killian less than a year later and at first she’d hated him because that easy charisma and confidence and air of a damaged soul had reminded her so strongly of Neal that she’d headed for the hills. But after she’d gotten to know him she realised how different they were, and so she did love him - not in that way, maybe in that way- but in the way she loved David. She trusted him and liked being around him. 

He was her friend - even if she had had that weird dream about him one time… several times… too many times. It wasn’t her fault that she thought about him when she woke up and before she went to sleep. He was usually texting her at that time - what else could she think about? They were friends. He was her best friend and he had been for nearly a year when everything changed. 

“I um, I got in,” he told her when they were sitting at the kitchen table one weekend near the end of their senior year. They’d decided to open their letters together. Emma had applied to a few colleges nearby and the local community college. She had her sights set on becoming a police officer or a social worker. She wasn’t sure which yet. Killian wanted to be an English professor. He’d told her so one of the first days they’d hung out. She’d called him a nerd but gave him credit for at least finding a way to make money off of it. 

“Got in where?” she asked. She’d missed which envelope he’d opened. He had a lot - they were all the big envelopes too. 

“Oxford,” he said, his eyes wide in disbelief and amazement. 

“Holy shit, Killian!” she shouted, standing up and throwing her arms around him, nearly knocking him right off his chair. “That’s amazing! Isn’t that where your brother studies? That’s an amazing school! Oh my god, professor Jones here you come!” 

She was beaming, so proud of him, so happy for him. She knew this was his dream school. But there was something off. He didn’t look as thrilled as she expected him to. Maybe it was just shock but she thought he could at least smile about it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, nudging his shoulder. “I thought this was what you wanted?” 

“It is - sort of. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“It’s in England,” he said and for the first time since he’d opened that letter it hit her. Oh. Oh. That meant… that meant he’d be leaving. Moving hundreds of miles away. 

“I don’t have to go there,” he said, giving her an awkward, embarrassed smile. “I got into Harvard too.” 

“You what?” she practically screamed. She punched his arm. “You weren’t supposed to open letters without me!” 

“It was Harvard, Emma,” he deadpanned and she couldn’t really be mad at him. She wouldn’t have been able to wait either. 

“Where do you want to go?” she asked and he looked at her hesitantly. She tried not to think about the way her heart was racing in her chest. Or about how blue his eyes were. Or about how she might not get to see them every day if he went to Oxford. 

“I don’t know,” he started and she knew he was lying. 

“Yes you do.” He looked away, not meeting her eye. “Killian, I know you hate it here,” he opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “I know you like me and David and Belle and some of the others but… I know you miss home. I know you miss your brother. I also know it’s the better program because you’ve told me so. Multiple times.” She held her breath for a moment, surprised at how much it hurt to encourage him to follow his dream. “Oxford is everything you’ve ever wanted.” 

“Not everything,” he said and she tried to meet his eye. He wouldn’t look at her. 

“What do you mean? What’s missing.” 

“You,” he answered, finally looking at her and her breath caught in her throat. Not just at his words, but at the way he was looking at her, like he’d been holding something back a long time and now the floodgates had opened and it was rushing out, plain on his face. “Oxford doesn’t have you,” he said. 

“If I stay here,” he continued, “we could go to school in the same city. We could keep hanging out between classes and on the weekends - we could even get a flat together!” he said a little excitedly and Emma’s chest hurt because she wanted all of those things, so badly. But she couldn’t have them. She couldn’t let him choose her over his future. They were friends. They were seventeen. He would regret it and resent her for the rest of his life. 

“But Oxford is your dream, everything you said you wanted,” she reminded him. “Oxford is where your family is, your brother and your old friends.” Her argument sounded weak to her own ears. 

“Maybe I have other dreams, other things I want more,” he said, looking at her that way again. It scared her. 

“What dreams,” she asked, barely whispering. 

“Emma,” he said, taking her hand and her heart started racing. “Emma you have to know, there’s no way you couldn’t. The whole school knows, your brother knows.” Her breath was coming quickly now, all of her senses on high alert and her blood rushing in her ears as he leaned in.

He pressed his lips to hers, tentatively, nervously, but with a passion that Killian always had for anything he did, anything he cared about. She shouldn’t let him kiss her, she thought. She couldn’t. She couldn’t because she wanted him to and if she wanted that then she had to admit to everything she wanted, to how much she wanted him. 

Of course she knew. She’d always known and… he knew too. But this was his life. His future. She couldn't let him throw it away for her. She loved him, regardless of which way, and so she had to let him go. So she did let him kiss her, for a moment, let her lips slide over his own, let herself enjoy how natural it felt, how right it felt - because she knew she’d never get to again. She pulled away first. 

“Killian -” she started and he must have heard it in her voice because he raised his hand, cupped her cheek.

“No,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. His words were frantic, desperate, like he was trying to hold on to something he knew was slipping away. “I love you, Emma. Ask me not to go. Ask me to stay.” 

She couldn’t. She couldn’t ask him that. It was selfish and she couldn’t let him give up his dreams for her. She wasn’t worth it. She knew he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let her convince him to leave just like that. She’d have to hurt him - for his own sake. And it would hurt her just as much. 

“I can’t,” she said and she felt his hand tighten slightly in her hair. She pulled back. “Killian. Don’t stay for me. Whatever it is you feel for me… I don’t,” she lied. “I’m sorry. But you can’t stay in Boston for me. Not if you’re staying because you hope something will happen because… it’s never going to happen.”

She felt him tense. His hand still in her hair, her hand still clasped in his. Then he pulled back all at once, looked down, and then back at her. He was hurt, but there was guilt there too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Emma, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine.”

“Will you still be my friend?” he asked. “Even after…”

“Yes,” she promised. 

“You really want me to go?” he asked. She nodded, hoped he didn’t see the tears she was struggling to hold off. 

“Yeah. I really want you to go,” she said. 

When Killian went home that night, earlier than usual, Emma let herself cry. 

Killian left in the summer. Their goodbye was awkward, as had most of their interactions been since his confession. They’d tried not to make it awkward, to go back to how they’d been but now he had this huge vulnerability hanging between them and she had this huge lie hanging between them. It tore at the fabric that made them what they were, that made their friendship what it had been. It stained it. 

“Keep in touch,” she said as she hugged him outside his aunt’s house, the cab waiting behind them. 

“Aye,” he promised. He got in the cab and David’s arm was around her suddenly. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she lied again. She was getting good at it. 

***

They were still sort of friends, for the first year they kept in touch - really made an effort. Killian told her about the residence and the people he had met and his professors and Emma told him about her forensics courses. She’d decided on becoming a police officer - but she wanted to be a detective. David was in the same program. It was nice to do it with someone else. 

But slowly, unavoidably, life got in the way. The phone calls were few and farther between, he didn’t have the money to go to Boston for Thanksgiving and she didn’t have the money to go to England for Christmas. Plans were broken, texts went unanswered, new friends were made, new interests developed and slowly, they drifted. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just one of those sad, unavoidable realities of life. Only, he and David still talked, still texted and emailed and spoke on the phone. So maybe it wasn’t so unavoidable. Maybe they’d both needed it. 

She still had him on Facebook, still checked in on his profile despite the years that passed, trying to stay aware of the things that were happening in his life. She learned about his brother’s death from David. She sent him a card with her condolences but she didn’t go to the funeral. It had been three years since he left, two since they’d spoken. He probably wouldn’t have wanted her there anyway. He hadn’t come down for David and Mary Margaret’s wedding a year later, despite having known both of them since high school. He’d had exams and had sent his apologies and a gift by mail. 

She saw online that he was in a long-term relationship, someone called Milah, a pretty dark haired woman who looked a few years older than him, a professor at his school she discovered after a little bit of snooping. He was with her for two years during which Emma was accosted with pictures of the two of them, until finally, one day they just stopped. She wondered what had happened there. 

She smiled when she learned that he got his PhD. He’d posted a picture of himself with a beer in one hand and his diploma in the other. He’d captioned it ‘that’s DOCTOR Killian Jones to you’. She hit the like button. He changed his job status to ‘employed’ at one of the smaller nearby colleges shortly after and she was proud of him. He’d done it. He’d gotten everything he wanted. It had taken ten years, but he was exactly who he’d hoped to be. 

So was she. She had made detective a few years ago, alongside David. They were even allowed to be partners since technically they weren’t related. She was happy, she had a job she loved, a nice apartment that was all her own, good friends, family… but she still checked his Facebook. She still spent evenings sometimes with a glass of wine looking up the boy who had told her he loved her when she was seventeen. 

She and David were sitting in their patrol car, staking out a coffee shop of all places that they’d been told their perp liked to use to make his drops, when he told her Killian was moving back. 

“What?” she demanded, her voice practically squeaking. 

“He got a job at Harvard,” David said dismissively, as though he hadn’t just turned her world upside down. “He’s got a one year teaching contract. I guess they liked the idea of a Brit teaching British lit,” he smirked a little at his own joke. 

Emma was reeling. She wasn’t prepared for this. She didn’t know how to handle the guy that she’d loved in high school and then stalked on Facebook for ten years suddenly coming back into her life. 

“You okay?” David asked, looking at her strangely. 

“Fine,” she said quickly and he rolled his eyes, not buying it. 

“Whatever,” he said, picking his battles. “We’re having a party at our house to welcome him home,” he told her. “You should come.” Emma forgot sometimes that David and Killian were still friends, even after all these years. He and Mary Margaret had even taken the time to visit him when they’d gone to Europe for their anniversary last year.

“Maybe,” she said dismissively. 

“He still asks about you, you know,” David said after a moment. Emma stayed silent, pretending to look through her binoculars at the front door of the cafe. Pretending her heart wasn’t racing in her chest at the idea of seeing the man whose heart she’d broken a decade ago. 

She’d debated not going to the party. Had walked to her front door and back into her kitchen a few times, had hesitated at her car, but she’d finally told herself to snap out of it. It had been ten years ago. They’d been teenagers. He was surely over it by now and she should be too. So she went. 

She hadn’t been prepared. She thought she was but when she walked in and saw him standing with David and Mary Margaret, smiling at something one of them was saying… it was brutal. It was brutal because he was different. She’d expected him to be different of course, but not like this. 

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked sadder and older. He held himself more confidently than he had in high school, but something about it told her it was a facade. Maybe she just knew him, she thought. But she didn’t anymore, did she, she was reminded. Her heart stopped when he looked over, met her eyes. He smiled a little but it wasn’t the easy smile she’d loved so much. He raised his bottle at her and she gave an awkward wave. 

“Long time no see, stranger,” he said later, coming up behind her to say hello and honestly scaring the absolute shit out of her.

“Jesus, Killian,” she said, hand to her chest. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on a cop like that?”

He smiled, that teasing smile she remembered. “I think I could take David if we’re honest.” She laughed. “I heard you made detective,” he said. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks. I hear you’re finally Professor Jones.”

“Aye. It seems we both got what we wanted in the end,” he said and there was a bit of sadness in the way he said it, the kind that she could tell was unintentional. 

“So,” she started awkwardly when the silence dragged on. “How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he said. “You?” This was brutal. They continued the small talk for a while. She missed how easy things used to be between them. She missed all the stupid, fun things they did when they were kids and they didn’t have all this baggage hanging between them. 

“You know what I miss?” she said out loud and he raised a brow at her. 

“No, Swan, what do you miss?” 

“I miss when we used to steal Ruth’s whiskey and climb up onto the roof and drink it there,” she smiled, remembering how many long, slightly drunken conversations they’d had as kids on the roof of Ruth’s house. 

Killian smiled, fondly and then a little mischievously. He leaned in a little and Emma couldn’t help but notice the way his face had changed. His jaw was sharper, some of the roundness of his cheeks having faded with age, and he’d grown into his nose. He was sporting a short beard now too, something he’d always wanted to complete his professor look but hadn’t been able to grow. He dressed better too, no more jeans and band tshirts. Now he wore… well, jeans and a tshirt but nicer ones with a jacket and boots instead of converse. It was pretty unfair, Emma thought, that he'd gotten better looking with age. He’d been good-looking enough to begin with. 

“I think I spy a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen there,” he hinted and Emma smirked. 

“This place does have a roof,” she said, matching his tone. 

“I’ll get the bottle, you distract Dave,” he said, winking - well, trying to. He’d never mastered that one and it made her smile a bit to see that some things hadn’t changed. 

They successfully managed to steal the bottle and hurry their way up to the guest room that Emma knew had a window they could walk out onto the roof from. They sat there, knees pulled up, passing the bottle between them as they looked out at the slowly darkening sky. Emma let the liquor warm her, let it make her a little looser, a little braver. 

“How are you really, Killian?” she asked eventually. He sighed, reaching for the bottle and taking a sip. 

“Tired,” he said. “It’s been a rough few years.” 

“I saw, about your brother,” she said. “I’m sorry.” 

He nodded. “Thank you. I’ve learned to live with it.”

“There was a woman too,” she said, not quick enough to catch the words before they slipped out. He raised an eyebrow at her teasingly.

“Been stalking my facebook, have you, Swan?”

She shrugged, deciding to be honest. “Only a little.” He looked surprised at her confession, a small smile breaking out on his face. 

“Aye, there was a woman,” he said and she wanted to roll her eyes at the fact that he sounded like some old dandy poet, lamenting over a lost love. “Milah. She went back to her husband.” Emma’s eyes shot up to her hairline. Husband? Wow. That was not what she’d expected. “There was a child involved,” he said, not turning to see her surprised look. “It was for the best.” 

He didn’t sound like he totally believed what he said, but he sounded like he’d made peace with it. Emma felt for him. His life had continued on the way it had been when they met. He’d lost more people, been left behind by more people he cared about, loved. She’d managed to avoid that. But she hadn’t let herself love anyone new. Not since him. 

“And what about you?” he asked, turning to hand her back the bottle. “What great loves have you lived and lost? Or is there a great love now?” he asked with a cheeky smile. She laughed.

“Nah, not for me,” she said. “My love affairs usually only last until the next morning.” He huffed out a laugh as she took another drink from the bottle. 

“Ah, you’ll find it someday,” he said. “One day there will be a man that you can’t dream of living without and that one will last a long time.”

“Two nights?” she joked and he laughed again. His laugh was the same, she thought with a small smile. 

“Aye, two nights.” 

They sat in silence for a while, continuing to share the bottle and Emma decided to blame that for what she said next. “I’ve missed you,” she told him and he turned his head to face her, away from the stars they’d been gazing up at. 

“I’ve missed you too, Swan,” he told her. He lay back, stretched his arm out and she took the invitation, snuggled up next to him like they had when they were teenagers watching scary movies and she lay her head on his shoulder. 

They stayed out there for another hour before David came to find them, scolding Killian for sneaking out of his own party. But he smiled at them as they climbed back through the window and Emma knew he was happy they’d found their way back to each other - that they were finding their way back to the friendship she’d once valued more than anything.

The next night, Emma invited him out for a drink with her and some of her friends from college. He’d made a comment about going out two nights in a row and she’d mocked him for being an old man - ‘I’m sorry, has it been ten years or fifty since we last saw each other?’ - and he agreed to join her. 

Emma was surprised, tough not really, at how well he fit in with her friends. They all loved him, loved his stories from teaching and the fact that he had dirt on Emma from before any of them knew her. He and Will and Robin hit it off immediately and she figured it was probably a brit thing. They spent over an hour talking about soccer. 

He fit in well here. Emma tried not to think about the fact that he fit so well into her life. Or about how much she liked that he fit there, how much she’d missed having him there. She also, really tried to ignore the way that his shirt clung to his biceps. He hadn’t had those in high school. It was difficult when Ruby seemed so intent on pointing it out. Ruby was being herself, pretending to be more salacious than she really was for a laugh, making comments about how she could just spread him on a cracker, when she looked at Emma and her face changed. 

“Oh,” she said and Emma didn’t like the knowing tone of her voice.

“What?” Emma asked, realising that her arms were crossed over her chest. She let them fall, tried to strike a more casual pose. 

“I didn’t realise… you like him,” she said with a sly smile. Emma scoffed.

“We’re friends,” she said flatly. 

“Mhm,” Ruby smirked. “You don’t look at me like that,” she pointed out. “Or Will, or Robin, or even Graham.” 

“Shut up,” Emma said, crossing her arms again as Killian looked over and she accidentally, automatically smiled at him. Ruby only laughed. 

They were friends. They’d only just started being friends again. She wasn’t going to ruin it now. She’d been the one to ensure that they would always, only be friends. ‘It’s never going to happen’, she’d told him. She’d made her bed. Now she had to lie in it - alone. 

She still couldn’t help wondering though if he still kissed the same way. She’d only kissed him once but she’d had yet to have another that lived up to it. And he’d been a teenager then, she was pretty sure she was the second girl he’d ever kissed. She wondered what it would be like now. 

She pushed the thought away. She’d thrown that possibility out the window a long time ago. She’d done it for his own good. And look who he was now, a professor, he had a goddamn PhD. He’d gotten everything he wanted. So why did he look so sad most of the time? Why was she so sad most of the time? She hadn’t noticed that she was before - it had only been since he came back and she had become aware of the gaping hole where something had been missing from her life. 

Having him back helped a bit. Like a bandaid over an open wound. She just hoped that the awkwardness would fade and they would find their way back to the friendship she had mourned for so long, had never really gotten over. She hoped he would let her earn it back. She looked at him laughing at something Robin said and she realised that regardless of time, her life was a little better with him in it. 

The awkwardness did fade. It wasn’t instant and it wasn’t necessarily easy - there was a lot between them, a lot of years and disappointments and broken trust, but soon, they found their way back to what they’d had as kids. It wasn’t long before they were spending evenings in each other's apartments, curling up on the couch and watching bad movies. She found herself smiling a lot throughout the day when he would text her a funny message or a stupid meme.

He was there for Christmas, only the second they’d gotten to celebrate together. They’d both spent the night at David and Mary Margaret’s and Emma had only been disappointed for a second that there were two guest rooms. She’d been looking forward to staying up late talking with him and laughing… and flirting. She’d noticed that there had been a bit more flirting, more than there used to be. On second thought, having to share a bed might not have been a good thing. Not if she wanted to keep him as a friend. She bought him a tweed jacket with leather patches on the shoulders that year. It was meant to be a joke but he’d worn it every day for a month. 

He was there for New Years and Emma felt her heart skip a beat when he kissed her at midnight. It was a small thing, a peck on the lips, barely a second, and he’d smiled at her in a way that made her feel that she shouldn’t read into it - no matter how much she wanted to. It was just a European thing, she insisted, weird boundaries. 

There had been a moment, once, when they’d been sitting on her couch in her apartment, watching another terrible movie. Nothing had happened, nothing specifically, but suddenly she found herself looking at him and he was watching her too, something heavy hanging in the air between them. 

Their hands were close and he moved his little finger, brushed it over hers and it made her breath stop. It was ridiculous, considering her legs were thrown over his and they were already sitting so close, but her breath stopped anyway. It was the way he was looking at her, the uncertainty and the affection and just a tiny bit of longing - there was no other word for it. She recognized it because she’d felt it every day since he’d come home - every day since he’d left ten years ago. 

His fingers had continued, collecting more of hers and slowly intertwining them. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to kiss her. She was pretty sure that he would for a moment. He held their hands up between them, looked at them and then at her, pulled her a little closer. And then a loud noise had come from the TV and he’d jumped, dropping her hands and scratching at his ear. They didn’t bring it up again. 

He was there for St Patty’s Day and Easter and the Fourth of July and birthdays, and before she knew it a year had passed. Well, nearly a year, eleven months to be exact. She knew that because it was August and he was complaining about having to go back to teaching the ‘little entitled shit’s’ as he called them. 

“Weren't you one of those students a few years ago?” she reminded him, flicking at his ear as she walked around him into her kitchen to grab them a snack. He was sitting on her sofa a few feet away. Her apartment was small, but it was cozy.

“I was a little shit,” he allowed, batting at her hand. “But I was never entitled. It’s the entiledness that really gets to me.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” she taunted, as she put the popcorn in the microwave and turned it on. 

He turned, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and looking over his shoulder at her. “You really want to question an English Literature professor?” 

“Being a professor doesn’t mean you get to make up words,” she told him. “Besides, I still beat you in Scrabble so I’m pretty sure I’m the expert.” 

He scoffed, hopping over the back of the couch and joining her in the kitchen. “Scrabble is a game of luck, nothing more,” he told her. “You can’t make words if you don’t get the right letters.” 

“Sounds like something a loser would say,” she shrugged. He looked at her in shock and Emma saw the glint in his eye a second before he moved. “Don’t,” she tried to warn him but he was too fast. He grabbed her and the idiot started tickling her, actually tickling her like he was seven years old. 

“Admit I have a superior mastery of the English language,” he demanded. She shrieked as she laughed, her sides burning, cursing him. He had her trapped against his body, his arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her back to his chest.

“Never!” she saw her opportunity and she took it. She grabbed his arm and spun him around, managed to pin him against the fridge, her arm braced against his chest, holding one of his wrists, she held the other down at his side. 

“Woah,” he said, eyes wide. 

“I keep telling you not to mess with cops,” she pointed out. 

“That was kind of hot,” he admitted, looking more impressed than turned on really. But that was enough for Emma to realise that she had him pushed up against the fridge, her whole body pressed to his. She could feel her face warming, could feel all of her skin warming where she touched his. Oh. She saw it in his eyes when he noticed too. 

She let him go, moved to step back but he caught her, putting his hand on her lower back and pulling her back in. Her heart rate picked up as he pressed her against him, that look in his eyes he’d had that night on her couch back again. He licked his bottom lip and Emma’s eyes darted down to it immediately. 

She saw the way his expression changed a little when she did, curiosity there as he cocked his head, looking her over. He seemed unable to settle on a single part of her face until he stopped at her lips. His own parted, his chin tilting slightly, drawing closer and she couldn’t think of anything except the heat of him against her and her heart running a marathon in her chest. She could feel his breath on her face and that he looked so damn handsome and she just really, really wanted him to kiss her. 

The microwave beeped and Emma cursed the shitty timing that seemed to keep ripping them apart anytime she was given the smallest bit of hope that there could be something more, that they could be something more. Because that was what she wanted. She’d stopped denying it that night on her couch. 

She wanted Killian. She loved Killian. She had since she was seventeen years old. She’d thought it would go away, had almost believed it had at one point. But then he’d come back into her life and that part of her that had been on mute, on pause but never truly gone had reared its head, made sure she knew that she was still, completely and hopelessly in love with the boy she’d met in detention. 

Killian released her, cleared his throat and she stepped back. She held back her sigh, her disappointment. She couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not after all they went through, not now that they were back to who they’d been. She’d turned him down ten years ago. She’d broken his heart. To tell him now that she loved him, that she’d always loved him... She feared his reaction, feared his rejection. 

“I have to tell you something.” He said to her back. She was pouring popcorn into a bowl. 

“If it’s that you don’t want Milkduds in your popcorn you’re shit outta luck,” she said, trying to lighten the heavy mood between them. 

“No, well, yes, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.” She turned around, recognizing the serious tone of his voice. She leaned back against the counter, waiting for him to say whatever he needed to say. “I’ve been offered a job,” he told her. 

“Killian that’s amazing!” she started but he stopped her. 

“It’s at Oxford.” She felt her heart drop into her stomach. No. Not again. She’d only just gotten him back. “A former professor of mine, Nemo, he pulled some strings when one of the faculty announced her retirement. He says the job is mine if I can get there for the fall semester.” 

It took Emma a moment to speak, trying to process what he was saying, trying to cope with the way it was ripping out her heart. “What about Harvard?” she asked, a little hopefully. 

He scratched that spot behind his ear like he always did when he was nervous. “That position is still up in the air. They’re still reviewing my candidacy.” 

She didn’t say anything, not for a long time. She couldn’t think of what to say. She felt like she was seventeen again, having the exact same conversation they’d had then. Please don’t go, she wanted to beg. Don’t leave. Stay here with me. Be with me. Choose me. But he’d chosen her once before. He’d chosen her and she’d practically thrown it back in his face. 

“It’s a pretty great opportunity,” he continued. “Rare too. It usually takes years to get a position like that.” She could hear him speaking, was aware that he was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the thoughts that were rolling around in her head. She couldn’t lose him again. Not like last time. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. 

“The English program there is renowned and-”

“Don’t go.” 

He froze. “What?” 

Shit. Shit, she’d said it out loud. He was looking at her with disbelief and shock and maybe a tiny bit of hope, but maybe she’d imagined that. Well, it was too late now to take it back. 

“Don’t go,” she repeated, stronger this time. She watched the emotions playing over his face, so many that she couldn’t track all of them. But the last one was anger, a desperate kind. 

“What do you mean don’t go?” he reeled on her. “How - How can you ask me that? After all these years?” 

“I know,” she said, hanging her head. “I’m sorry but I just,” she took a deep breath. “I let you leave once and it was the worst mistake I ever made. I was in love with you and when you left I lost you and... Don’t go.” His eyes widened in shock, his jaw dropping. If this moment hadn’t been so serious it would have been almost comical.

“You were in love with me?” he demanded, disbelief clear in his voice. He stepped forward. “Why didn’t you tell me that ten years ago? Why did you push me away?” His voice cracked a little. “I was in love with you, Emma. I’d have done anything for you and you - You broke my heart.” 

“I know,” she could feel tears burning her eyes. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought that if you stayed you’d resent me, that you’d hate me eventually. I wanted you to get everything you wanted.”

“You were what I wanted!” he practically shouted at her. She flinched a little. “I wanted to be with you but you turned me down. And then you cut me out of your life.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did, Emma. You stopped answering my calls, my texts, my emails. You didn’t come to the funeral…” She hung her head again. “And now, now we’re finally speaking again, finally back in each other’s lives, finally friends again and now you say you loved me? Now you ask me to stay?”

“Are you not anymore?” she asked and he looked at her in confusion. “In love with me," she clarified. She shouldn’t be asking him. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Just because her feelings hadn’t changed in ten years didn’t mean his wouldn’t. He tensed, stood up straighter.

“Are you?” he demanded. 

Emma bit her lip. She was. She was as in love with him now as she was at seventeen but it was different now. She was an adult, she understood the difference between love and infatuation, knew how they were different. Her love had grown from missing him for a decade, had grown more from being with him this last year. It was all consuming, all she thought about. All she wanted was him, if he turned her down now… she didn’t know if she’d recover. 

“Emma, how can you ask me to stay if you can’t even tell me how you feel? What are you asking me to stay for?” She didn’t have an answer. She just stared at her feet. He waited for a while, and she heard as his breath slowed and became a heavy sigh. “I should go,” he said, walking back over to the couch to grab his jacket. 

He was at the door when the panic seized her. The dread and the fear that he was leaving, that he was walking out of her life again, that it was her fault again, that she would surely lose him for good this time, overwhelmed her, reared its head and took over. What are you asking me to stay for? he’d asked. He hadn’t answered her question, hadn’t told her he didn’t love her. He’d just wanted a reason. She’d give him a reason if it meant he would stay. He’d been the one to put his heart on the line last time. Now it was her turn.

“Don’t go,” she said again and he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t go. Don’t leave the apartment. Don’t go back to England. Don’t leave again. Please,” she begged.

He didn’t turn around but she heard him speak. “Why not?” 

“Because I love you,” she nearly shouted at him. “Okay? I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen and I thought I could get over it but I can’t. I lost you once and I can’t lose you again so please,” she paused, a small sob leaving her. He turned around finally, walked back over to where she still stood against the counter. 

“Please just don’t go,” she said again, quieter this time. “I should have said it then but I’m saying it now. I’m being selfish and asking you to pass on your amazing opportunity. I’m asking you to choose me and be with me instead.”

He took her chin between his thumb and his finger dragged her gaze up from where it had been staring at her feet, met her eyes and her heart jumped at the softness there, the anger from earlier gone. “I’ll stay,” he said and she thought her knees would give out with the force of the relief, the hope hitting her all at once.

“What about your job?” she said hesitantly. Shut up, Emma. You got what you wanted. But she still cared - about his success and his dreams, even as she asked him to give them up.

“Fuck my job,” he said before his hand moved to her cheek and he slid his mouth over hers. Emma wanted to cry as she felt his lips move over her own. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, slanting his mouth over hers and she opened beneath him, let him explore her with lips and tongue, and his hands on her body. 

Her hands came up around his neck, tangling in his hair and dragging him closer, pressing herself against him until here was no room left between them at all. He backed her against the counter and she didn’t care even as she felt the hard ridge digging into her back. He groaned when she rolled her hips against the hard ridge digging into her belly. 

“Wait, wait,” he said, breath heavy and ragged as he pulled his lips away from hers.

“What?” she asked, suddenly nervous. That had been the best moment in her entire life and now she feared it would come crashing down, that he’d changed his mind. 

“I forgot to tell you that I love you too,” he said, sounding panicked. She looked at him in disbelief and in that moment he was exactly the boy she’d fallen in love with, awkward and sweet and nervous and just so stupid for such a smart person. “I love you,” he said. “I have for a decade. It never stopped for me either.” Whatever quip she had planned died on her tongue at the sincerity in his voice and on his face. 

She smiled before pulling his lips back to hers, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss him properly, the way she’d wanted to for ten years and hadn’t been able to. He kissed her back just as eagerly, lips and teeth and tongue driving her nearly as mad as his hands, which were everywhere at once, stoking the fire that had been burning inside of her since she’d pinned him against the fridge. 

“You’ve gotten better at this,” she teased when they pulled back a moment to catch their breath. He gave her a truly wicked grin. 

“I’ve gotten better at a great many things,” he promised, and she knew where he was going with it, was definitely on board with his plan… but she couldn’t help herself.

“Not Scrabble…” 

He bent down then, grabbing her around the knees and hoisting her up over his shoulder. She shrieked, laughing as he carried her the short distance to her bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously on the mattress. He was such a sore loser. 

He looked at her for a moment, standing at the edge of the bed before leaning down over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head, and lowering his face to hers so their lips nearly brushed as he spoke.

“Not Scrabble,” he conceded before that smile came back. “But a great many things.” 

[cyanoscarlet]

20/20 vision ☀️🎁 "He’s being saved again, comes the rueful thought. How many times does that make it, now?" The sheer *clenches fist* BACKGROUND in this line, how DARE you dani. This is the line that spawned my train of thought, I hope you're happy. Reducing me to angstful tears as I think about backstories and the potential in a hospital.

...... Aiyah...... (breaks into nervous sweats)

I’ll preface this with the fact that 20/20 vision, too, was a product of post-duty chaotic-brain-ing while on a coffee high, so thank you again! THANK YOU so much. Forever over the moon over this! <3

List of fic asks here!

He’s being saved again, comes the rueful thought. How many times does that make it, now?

20/20 vision, bungou stray dogs

(In which Chuuya is an ophthalmologist, Dazai is his optometrist, and they slowly fall in love.)

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☀️ -  Was there any symbolism/motifs you worked in? 

Apart from the obvious references to eyes, some of the other passages used in this story are, indeed, metaphors for certain aspects of Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship, as well as Chuuya’s developing feelings for Dazai— many of them I’ve only derived from rereading this fic again and again just now, you’ll note!

Just a few major ones among the many:

The business proposition - Dazai does mean it literally, but yeah, he’s also taken interest in Chuuya himself, and wants them to be in a relationship. Chuuya himself is at first tolerant, then accepting of it, which runs parallel to his growing thoughts and feelings for Dazai. The way he keeps track of how many times Dazai has said this now is indicative of that. He is still hesitant, of course— be it due to confusion or to career-related reasons, but Dazai is and will always be willing to wait for Chuuya, hence the gentle, persistent reminder every time he visits.

Also, yes, the ending part in which Chuuya calls back to this is totally him saying ‘yes’ to Dazai— tantamount to a love confession, if you will. The essence of that whole last conversation, in light of everything that has happened before it, makes the story come full circle in its own way. There is always something sweet about saying ‘I love you’ without actually saying it, and the symbolism of the business proposition works really well for this whole purpose.

The spare glasses - It reflects both Dazai’s long-term familiarity with (everything about) Chuuya at this point, and the fact that no matter what, Chuuya will always have a safe space (home) with Dazai himself, eye problems and friendship and everything in between. You have Chuuya ruminating on his pride and principles and admitting his own faults, and he can just be all of that— that is, himself, when he is with Dazai. And Dazai knows this, too: “You didn’t have to ask, you know.”

The coffee and prescriptions - In the more literal sense, it’s Dazai being his disaster himself + creating trouble (coffee), and Chuuya having to take care of him (prescriptions), albeit a bit more hilariously unwilling on his part. Subconsciously, Dazai is always wanting to keep Chuuya’s attention on him, hence the repeat offenses, but Chuuya is always willing to forgive him those anyway / shower the attention that Dazai wants. Similarly, the wine / coffee discussions represent their individual differences, and what Chuuya thinks of them. They do try their best to meet in the middle, though, coming to an understanding / compromise of sorts— you see this in the ending, too, when they go out drinking.

A note on Kunikida, and his relationship/s with Dazai and with Chuuya - Kunikida, in this story, is Dazai’s old classmate from college, and is currently Chuuya’s colleague in a different department. Although it may appear that Dazai and Kunikida seem a bit more dismissive of each other, they do have a good relationship founded on common ground (science / statistical analysis), which Chuuya does not share with Dazai (literature / writing). You are right in that this makes Chuuya and Kunikida good foils of each other, yet they, too, have a good relationship / understanding despite their differences, both as individuals (Chuuya in Ophthalmology and Kunikida in Internal Medicine) and within their respective relationships with Dazai (Chuuya being more tolerant / forgiving as the newer friend, and Kunikida being more strict / stern, as the older friend).

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On the more headcanon-y stuff (which I really don’t think I’ll be able to write at this point because my brain is already decidedly chaotic as fuck hahaaahah), a couple of lines I’ve picked up that can be expanded on are:

1. Chuuya and 20/20 vision - As you may have probably sensed from his character (and it totally fits him in canon), he never really wanted to be a doctor. He even had a rebellious streak in college for it. He still ends up in med school, though, but he doesn’t have a direct goal / direction in life at this point. This is represented by his worsening visual acuity, which, yes, was directly caused by constantly burning the midnight oil while studying. He’s stuck in a field he doesn’t want, yet tries his best, way too much, that he just gets lost. It is at this low point in his life that he meets Dazai, and his life changes. He gets glasses, tries to make sense of his life (regain 20/20 vision), and where to go from there. And Dazai, god bless him, is always there, always has his back for the whole ride: He’s being saved again, comes the rueful thought. How many times does that make it, now? They fall in love along the way, and it takes very long for them to reach the endgame, but they do, and it is beautiful. Chuuya’s 20/20 vision is his contentment with his life now, and a forever with Dazai. It’s the best view he could ever wish for, and he is very happy with it.

2. Chuuya, Mori-sensei and Promises - A very different version of Chuuya learning from (and in turn, being influenced by) Mori from Fifteen (Pre-canon) Arc. I don’t have a solid one for this tbh, but let’s just say an encounter with Mori greatly changes Chuuya’s outlook and makes him choose Ophthalmology as his specialty, the way he comes to swear loyalty to Mori and the Port Mafia in canon. No real solid connection with Dazai, in this case, but feel free to make of it what you will! I’m not quite imaginative enough for this hahaha.

... Okay, that was long. (sweatdrops)

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🎁 -  Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this? 

First of all, do not drink brewed coffee at lunch time and end up with nearing 48 hours of palpitations later. Also, do not be like Dazai and drink 18 cups of coffee in one sitting, holy crap. I don’t think even Kunikida can save you from that if you do end up going over that literal and proverbial edge.

All that crap aside (which I do mean in earnest!), this idea totally came from a simple desire headcanon of Chuuya in prescription glasses. This, in turn, was influenced by downtime chats with my triage partner for that day, my classmate from med school now doing Ophthalmology residency. There were also other small things that happened to me IRL, like the way the lenses of my false glasses quickly yellowed within days of purchase, and the unexpected offer of free brewed coffee. Bottom line, take cues from real life; it’s a fun goldmine of tales tall and short, and you’ll have fun telling those because they are first and foremost yours. 

Similar to this, take note of the small things around you— pay attention to the way the leaves are swept by the wind, the way she crosses the street, the taste of the coffee you drink. Then describe those in your head— what I find works best for me is both immersing myself in the scenario and staying outside of it, like controlling a video game character / avatar, in a way. That way, I can develop my sentences in a vivid manner yet stay objective. (This is a bit harder to explain, actually.)

Most of all, write what works best for you, no matter what style you use. One quote I remember from English writing class (yet another gen-ed pre-req subject boohoo) states: “Write in white heat; revise in cold blood.” When you are struck by the idea, write it down. Let the ideas take over your fingers and let yourself get carried away. I admit that I really didn’t think through the plot of this very fic myself; I just let myself go until I was done a few hours later. This heat-of-the-moment writing high rarely happens to me (I wish it happened more often!), but I find that what I do come up with when I don’t think things through ends up a final product I quite like, other people’s feedback aside. The editing later is another story; don’t be afraid to critique your own work and adjust accordingly, if you feel that it will make the story better. (This part I have a decidedly much harder time with, but it’s still good advice, so I’m putting that down here, as well.)

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Okay, that got reeeeeaaaaallyyyyyy long, now. Aegis really be pushing me to my limits every time we talk, and it’s making me grow and learn more about writing and about myself. I’m really, really grateful for this ask. I hope you all enjoyed reading this, too!

List of fic asks here!

[kidgetrash]

Soul Deep

Characters (so far):  Keith, Pidge, Lance, Krolia, Kosmo (though he hasn’t been named yet)

Pairings: Kidge (Keith/Pidge)

Tags:  Soulmate AU, Slightly aged up characters.  

Based on this post by @lightningcrown .  Hope I’ve done it some justice!

Summary:

Whenever you write on your skin or hurt yourself, your soulmate can read it/feel it.  Pidge and Keith don’t realise they’ve already met, choosing to communicate without giving much away.

Set while Keith is in the Quantum Abyss.

@galaxykidge @tog84 See what you made me do?! :p

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Krolia regarded her son curiously.  He did this every night; once he thought she was asleep he removed the cuff from his Blades armour, slid his sleeve up, and used an inked stylus to mark his arm.  She was never sure if he were writing, or drawing, but it was one of the few times he removed his armour, other than to bathe, and they did that separately.  She had caught glimpses of his arm but never noticed anything out of the ordinary, not even slightly.  Eventually she decided to get an answer she had to go direct to the source.

The fire was dying down and she had long since said goodnight to Keith, who lay on his side of the flames with his space wolf curled up against his back.  It was only moments before he had his arm free and was again scrawling on his skin.

‘Why do you do that?’  Her voice carried easily in the silence, making Keith jump and the wolf raised his head.

‘What?’  He froze writing mid-sentence, the words disappearing before he completed them.

‘Your arm?  Every night you write or draw upon it.  Why?’

Keith shuffled around so he sat facing her crosslegged, the wolf moving with him so he could rest his head in Keith’s lap.  ‘I’m, uh, I’m communicating with my soulmate.’

‘Your soulmate?’  She frowned in confusion as she repositioned herself to lean her back against the wall.  ‘I am unfamiliar with the term.’

‘I guess it’s an Earth thing.’  He smiled slightly.  ‘Somewhere out there I have the one person I’m meant to be with, not everyone has it, it’s pretty rare, but one way to tell is that you can write to one another on your skin.  Look.’  He held up his arm as words appeared in a rounded hand.

Krolia leant forward and read what it said; ‘Did you fall asleep again?’

‘I fell asleep talking to her before.’  He chuckled at the memory before quickly writing a reply.  ‘Sorry, my mom asked me what I was doing.’  He scribbled as she watched, the words fading after a moment.

‘Oh, family time!  Didn’t mean to interrupt!’

‘You didn’t.  We’re…travelling together at the moment.’

‘Cool. ��Do you get on well?’

Keith glanced up at Krolia with a smile before replying.  ‘Really well.’

‘Really well?’

Lance’s voice made Pidge scream in shock.  She had been so busy reading her soulmate’s replies she hadn’t heard him come up behind her, hadn’t even realised he was awake, and he was virtually touching her he had got so close.

‘Quiznak, Lance!  You scared the crap out of me!’  She shoved at him as she pulled her sleeve back down.

‘Well, if you weren’t making goo-goo eyes at your arm then you might have heard me.’  He grinned as he walked around to face her.  ‘So, who is it?’

‘I…don’t know.’  She replied, feeling the tingle of more words appearing even as she spoke, rubbing her arm slightly.  ‘We’ve been talking for…forever, but we’ve never shared personal stuff, you know?  We figured we’d just know if we ever met.’

‘Check what they said.’  He nodded towards her hand still working her sleeve against her skin.  ‘Don’t ignore it.  I know how special it is.’

She gave him a grateful smile before pushing her sleeve up again, catching the words; ‘You still there?’  As it began to fade.

‘I’m here.’  She replied.  ‘My friend just showed up.’

‘Do you have to go?’

‘Maybe.  I didn’t think anyone else was up, but he doesn’t have a soulmate so I feel kind of bad.’

‘I get it, you don’t want to rub it in his face.’

‘Well, maybe a little!’

‘That kind of friend, huh?  My mom says hi, by the way.’

‘Hi, soulmate’s mom!’

‘She says she can’t wait to meet you and I’m not writing what else she said.’

‘Was it bad?’

‘Nah, she wants me to ask you a few questions.  I think she wants to figure out if we know you.’

Pidge laughed, Lance reading over her shoulder as she did.  ‘We’ve shared our genders, a few likes and dislikes, but not a lot else.’  She explained.  ‘We know enough for now, right?’

‘I think so.  You know I hate to say goodnight, but it’s getting late here.’

‘Here too.’  She said with a pang of sadness.  ‘Speak tomorrow?’

‘Always.  And maybe see you soon.’

‘MSYS.’  She abbreviated as she always did, before quickly adding a kiss on the end and pulling down her sleeve, hoping Lance either didn’t see or wouldn’t comment.

‘That’s seriously cute.’  Lance shook his head.  ‘I know not everyone gets a soulmate, but when you do…cute.’

Pidge frowned at him.  ‘You’re not going to, I don’t know, poke fun at me?’

He shrugged.  ‘My mom and dad are soulmates, I grew up knowing just how amazing and rare it is.  I’m pleased for you.’

‘Thanks.’  She replied, pleasantly surprised.

‘Do you have any scars?  You know, that are his?’

‘Not really.’  She shook her head.  ‘Every now and then I get a new bruise, but nothing too major.  I'm guessing he’s a klutz.’

Lance laughed.  ‘Just make sure he keeps himself out of trouble until we get back to Earth.’

‘I can’t guarantee that.’  She smirked.  ‘Besides, every time I feel it, I know he’s still out there.  It’s like a reminder.’

‘You romantic, you.’  He punched her in the arm hard enough to give her pins and needles.

‘Ow!  What was that for?’

‘Tell him it was a gift from your friend.’  He winked before leaving her to shake the feeling back into her tingling limb.

[bloggish]

Fic (Excerpt): Performance Art

aka. asoiaf rarepairs week just started and I realise I cannot possibly get my fill for the first day done today (esp. as I'm already a whole day late and just taking advantage of the timezone difference so y'all won't notice), so I'm going to post the first scene here so I can feel like I've accomplished something, and finish the rest of it, er, whenever

Characters/Pairing: Bran/Theon, various Rating: Teen Spoilers: None really Warnings: Cursing, implied homophobia Prompt: Faking Dating

*

Okay, this is stupid. Bran is not going to pretend the whole situation isn't stupid. If someone was coming up with a list of reasons why he is not yet a mature and responsible individual and should not be trusted to make his own decisions (which he suspects the rest of his family has done behind his back), this whole evening would probably end up pretty close to the top.

He was just trying to be a good friend, go see the art gallery when Jojen asked. He even managed to talk his mum into letting him go on his own, telling her that Jojen's sister would drive them and her car had plenty of space for the chair. He was anticipating a nice, relaxing evening, looking at art and nodding along with Jojen's explanations of what it all means, feeling like a proper grown up.

Of course, forgot to account for the fact Jojen is Jojen, so he's buggered off somewhere in his infuriatingly mysterious way, and left little Bran all on his lonesome, trying not to panic.

And then he gets cornered.

Because why not?

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Bran winces, and reluctantly turns around to see – Joffrey Baratheon, bloody hell. He hasn't even seen Joffrey Baratheon in years, not since the tool finally graduated, something Bran is grateful for every day.

As long as he can remember Joffrey has held this irrational grudge against his family, ever since Sansa dumped him when they were like thirteen. You'd think he'd move on eventually, but no. And Joffrey might not be very physically intimidating, but because his family are so rich (and probably mobbed up) he's very good at making physically intimidating friends. And Bran, typically one to be cautious about conflict and get his own back through less direct methods, starts looking for exit routes.

“Er. Hi Joffrey,” he says, his eyes scanning the room, probably looking quite a bit like a deer in the headlights. See Jojen, this is what happens when you pull your disappearing trick on me.

Joffrey, having clearly not become any less of a budding psychopath in the past two years (or, okay, given he's like twenty now he probably doesn't count as 'budding' anymore), seems pleased to see Bran is uncomfortable, and takes a step forward. “So what are you doing here?” he asks, but he doesn't pretend to care about the answer. “I can't believe my mother talked me into coming into this stupid exhibit. Urgh. I can't stand modern art.”

Bran has mixed feelings about modern art himself, but feels an instinctive need to come to the defense of all the creators who put their hearts and souls into the works on display only to be thoughtlessly dismissed by a boy who's never been invested in any work of art that doesn't feature a baby being smashed open with a hammer. Then he remembers he's trying to avoid being beaten up.

“Uh, well, I'm here with my...” he says, somewhat cowardlily (if that's a word). Joffrey raises an eyebrow. My what? thinks Bran. He's mostly here for Jojen's sakes, but telling Joffrey he's here with a friend could mean anything, and if Jojen never actually shows up again, he can only work so much as a human shield. And even if Jojen was here: with all due respect, he weighs as much as some twigs. How much of a disincentive to Joffrey having some of his buddies throw Bran in the alley out back could he possibly be?

“...boyfriend.”

Wait, what?

Bran sees Joffrey's claw clench immediately, like he disapproves, but Bran knows he has to be careful about what he says, ever since his mother – who also happens to be mayor – got caught on tape making disparaging comments about Mrs. Merryweather's sexuality, and has been desperately trying to repair her relationship with the local LGBTQ community ever since (Bran's pretty sure he's saw Mrs. Lannister and Mrs. Merryweather holding hands under the table at official functions before that as well, confusing the matter for him, but he's not one to gossip).

“I see,” says Joffrey. Bran now realises what a stupid thing that was to say. He just wanted to warn Joffrey that he does in fact have someone waiting in the wings who can and will beat up anyone who messes with him.

Except, you know, he doesn't. He has no boyfriend anywhere in his life story. No girlfriend either, for that matter. He's a nerd. And if Joffrey finds out he lied, then he's definitely getting beaten up.

Joffrey gives him a thorough once-over, then snorts. “Didn't know you swung that way, Stark,” he says, and Bran finds himself blushing. Admittedly, he doesn't think about his own sexuality that much – mostly because it is general a pretty theoretical subject. “Still. Shouldn't be surprised.”

Bran is just about to lose control of himself and snap when suddenly, a hand lands on his shoulder and makes him jump (as best he can anyway). “Hey Bran.”

He spins around and sees a figure looming overhead. Tall. Older. Handsome. And with muscles specially trained from years of swim practice, enough to make any of Joffrey's cronies think twice. Bran is swamped with relief, and throws his arms around the man's waist desperately. “Theon!”

Theon jumps, understandably startled given that despite having been his older brother's best friend since forever, Bran doesn't really like him, has never really liked him, and they've certainly never greeted each other with hugs before. Bran doesn't know why, but Theon has always just gotten under his skin for some reason, with his clever grin and dirty jokes that he only says when he thinks the kids (and he is still very much a kid in Theon's eyes) aren't listening, but always manage to make him blush. Usually whenever he's over hanging out with Robb, Bran spends the time safely secluded in his room, being irrationally and inexplicably frustrated by the situation.

Under ordinary circumstances, Theon Greyjoy is the last person in the world who he would ask to be his pretend boyfriend. Especially because Theon is absolutely going to tell Robb, and then Bran is never going to live it down for the rest of his life. But, Bran reasons, Theon is the person unfortunate enough to have wandered in now, and you know what they say about desperate times and desperate measures. Annoying as he is, Bran does trust Theon, more or less – at the very least, he's certain Theon can't let him get beaten up without Robb murdering him. Ergo, he'll do in a crisis.

Confused as he must be, Theon does lean down to very awkwardly return his hug. Bran takes advantage to whisper in his ear: “I'm really sorry about this. Please just play along?”

Theon seems seems bewildered when he stands back up, but when Bran grasps his hand and clasps it tight, he starts to get the idea. His eyes go wide, and then he purses his lips together, like he can hardly keep from laughing. When Bran looks at Joffrey again, the boy looks disgusted, but is trying to hide it. “So,” he says, “is this your...?”

“Mm-hmm,” says Bran, maybe too quickly. “He's older though, off at uni, so you don't see him around much. And he's off at athletics training most of the time. He's really strong.” He hopes that sounds more like hormonal gushing and less like the veiled threat it really is. Theon lets out a brisk laugh, and Bran smacks his arm to keep him from giving the game away.

Joffrey squints at Theon suspiciously. “You look familiar somehow.”

Crap. Bran's heart races. He was really hoping Theon graduated long enough ago that Joffrey wouldn't remember him. Theon gives Bran a questioning look, and Bran can only shrug at him, not sure what to say. “You might have seen me in a magazine or something?” Theon eventually suggests.

Magazine? Who even reads magazines? But Theon has started the lie and Bran is better off just going with it. “Yeah, with his school swim team,” he adds. “They're very successful, so they get in all the sports papers and stuff.”

Joffrey looks at them – then scoffs, muttering something under his breath about 'oh, is that the sort of magazine he's in?' Bran gets annoyed again, but Theon squeezes his hand before he can do anything stupid. “Well, my mother's probably looking for me by now, so anyway,” Joffrey declares imperiously, giving them both a withering glance. “...Bye you two.”

The naked contempt is still annoying, but Bran is too busy being relieved when Joffrey decides to leave him the fuck alone to worry much about it. He lets out a sigh, and he expects Theon to let go of his hand as soon as possible. Instead, he simply feels the hand still in his own start to shake, as Theon can no longer contain his laughter. Bran groans loudly. “Oh, don't,” he says, fully aware that Theon is not going to take any notice.

“Sorry, kid,” Theon forces through his guffaws, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Still, do I want to know? Are you trying to stick it to your ex or something?”

“What? No. Ew.” Bran looks up at gives Theon his own withering glare, which at least quietens the laughter, if not stopping it entirely. “He's Sansa's ex, remember? Yeah, he's had a grudge against our whole family for years. And given his family connections, I was a bit afraid he'd have me beaten up if he thought he could at all get away with it.”

“Right, that cunt,” Theon nods along, laughter mostly under control now, and Bran finds himself blushing at how casually Theon drops such foul language. “So, am I your valiant protector then?” he asks, winding his arm around Bran's shoulders and the back of his chair. “Your knight in shining armour?”

That doesn't help Bran's blush, and he finds he's surprisingly hot given Theon is barely making any actual contact with him. The air conditioning in this place must be broken. “You're a person I know who's reasonably tall and has done some sports,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Don't let it go to your head.”

Theon laughs once more at that, and Bran sighs, starting to wheel away – he ought to figure out where the friend he actually came here with has gotten to. As he starts to move however, he realises that Theon is walking alongside him, and he looks up disbelievingly. “What, are you going to  follow me around all night?” he asks.

He gets an equally disbelieving look in return. “Well, yes,” says Theon. “If I'm pretending to be your boyfriend kid, we might have to spend time together,” he points out. Bran opens his mouth to argue, and then realises that no, Theon is one hundred percent right. Dammit. “Besides, you're a terrible liar. There's no way you're pulling this one off if I'm not there to do the acting for you, and then you really will get beaten up, and then Robb will kill me. Not worth it.”

As if to prove his point, Theon leans over once more and kisses Bran – totally chastely, on the top of his head. Still, Bran turns bright red again, and wraps his arms around himself protectively. “Fine,” he mutters, annoyed. In hindsight, it would have been easier if he let Mum come with him after all.

When he looks back up, Theon is grinning like he's looking forward to this way more than he ought to be.

[lxtent]

Here we are again my lovely muns! Another Christmas has drifted around, and it’s now almost been four years since I started writing Leo. That’s a crazy amount of time for me in the world of roleplay. Through each of those years, you guys have brought a smile to my face every day through your writing, muses and just being who you are. They’ve been some of the hardest years of my life but I’ve been lucky to have you all by my side. Truthfully, I’m not sure what’s going to happen next year. I start a new job in January and it’s going to suck up my time mercilessly. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to be around. But I will never leave. As long as I have a place to escape to here, I know I can get through things. I want to support everyone else just as much as you have supported me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a way to accurately portray how much you all mean to me. Around Christmas, you’re supposed to spend time with the people you love. Even though that includes you guys for me, there are countless oceans and countries that get in the way. I’m not Santa sadly, so there’s no travelling by reindeer to see you all like I’d wish to. But at the very least, I want to reach across to you and give you all a hug with words.  To the beautiful muns that make this place my second home, I wish you all the happiness in the world this Christmas, and all the days following it. To quote Jung Leo himself: “Let’s see each other for a long time.”

☆ . 。.:*・ My Fairy Lights・*:.  。. ☆ 

☆ @iceprincesssooyeon Every year I try and think of a new way of telling you how much you mean to me. Which is dumb really, considering I tell you nearly every day and holy crap, you must be so sick of it by now. But nothing changes, no matter how many times it’s said. It doesn’t lose its impact. It’s always true. Want to know I really random fact? The first time I went on to your blog, the post I saw first was one of strawberry and cream cake. Not only did that just make me adore you at first sight (I love strawberry and cream cake it’s my favourite cake ever) but it also made me associate you with it a little ^^ Perhaps it’s cuz you’re so sweet, or that now I always imagine Sooyeon and Leo baking together and feeding each other strawberries. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re the strawberries to my cream hehe~ One wouldn’t be here without the other. I’m so thankful to know you and to have our SooLeo.

☆ @numberxix I told you this a while ago but it’s still something I think about around this time of year. The day we first started talking was new years day, about two years ago now. What I didn’t tell you that much of was that I had had a really bad start to that year. I’d had a bit of a panic attack on the way home from seeing family. It was pretty much the worst first day of the year you could get. But then we started talking. You were one of my first reasons to smile that day. And it’s been like that for this entire year since. We have so many ships between our muses, romantic or friendship and I love every single one of them. Kyungri and Jaehwan will of course always be the first in my heart. But I can’t wait to see how they all develop. There are so many ideas we have, so many little scenarios and I wouldn’t want to share them with anyone else. 

☆ @instantlyiconic I can’t believe we only met a few months ago! It seems like so much longer. Thank you for bringing Minseok into Leo’s life, being like the warm cups of coffee he always offers him; energy and comfort. You are an amazing writer, I can’t say it enough because I won’t even stop saying it when you finally agree. These two will get closer with time and I can’t wait to see that happen.

☆ @thosewhowearmasks It’s not even been four months since we started talking, how is that possible?! When you first popped into my im’s saying you loved Seraphina too, I think I had a feeling then that we were going to get along just fine. Not only that, but I discovered a long lost twin! You’ve killed me with just a few heartwrenching paragraphs and given me some of the fluffiest fluff too. When we get to write these characters more (because we will) I’m going to pay you back for both! Thank you for always sticking around. And for making me watch Liar Game, that was a really good idea.

☆ @noxwrites Have I ever told you that I admire you endlessly? And that you’re hilarious and I love screaming about VIXX with you? And that Daesung is one of Leo’s closest friends and if he ever lost him he might not recover from it? Well, I have now. I’m sorry I’m so lame when it comes to promptly replying to... well, everything. That’s gonna have to change. And please let me love more of your characters! Good? Okay.

☆ @scxpegoxt Hey I know you’re not here anymore and we stopped talking AGAIN (why does this keep happening) but how could I miss you off here? You’re one of my favourite favourites. You have no idea how many docs I have with drabbles I wrote with Hakyeon and Leo. There’s a lot. When we started talking again after a freaking year, I was so happy. Which means I need to get off my butt and go and message you right now. And I need to stop being a dinosaur like Leo and get a discord. Yup.

☆ @pvlchritudine I love friendship ships. Love them so much. Karen and Leo are exactly why Ido. Have you seen how cute they are? Of course you have~ You’re just as lovely as they are and I so wish we talked more. I take all the blame for the fact that we don’t. I’ve followed you for years, back when your blog had a different name and I played another character entirely. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that I always love seeing you around. It wouldn’t be the same without you!

☆ @aniimvs You wonderful soul. Thank you for sharing so much of Gabriel with me. I feel honoured to be able to help you with her just the teeniest tiniest bit. Getting to know her more has just made her interactions for Leo even more frustrating and ironic and just great. Have I ever had a friendship (that they won’t even call a friendship) as complicated as this one? Nope. Which is why I love it. I’ve admired you since my first foray into krp and I’m so glad you’re still around. I really am!

☆ @dcmnation Ah, my personal torturer. The one that killed off Leo’s sweet little Nana! You’re still amazing though. You know something that stuck in my mind from all the times we’ve talked? It’s a strange thing, but I was on holiday and couldn’t get online for very long. The only way I could talk was through kkt. Suddenly, there you were, saying you’d got kkt so that you could talk to me. I was so damn happy and humbled. We don’t talk as often these days which is an absolute crime but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you just as much my bby~

☆ @lighthousehan I don’t think we’ve ever talked all that much outside of our threads, aside from when we first plotted out Han and Leo’s backstory. But despite that, their friendship remains strong as ever. Though I can’t help but notice how we always seem to slip into angst somehow. I think that might be my doing half the time! Thank you for giving Leo such an important childhood friend. I’m forever grateful for getting to read your writing all the time.

☆ @czernobuh I think I say this too much, but you were the first person to love Leo. No exaggeration! For that reason, you’ll always be someone I adore. Not to mention you’re an incredibly skilled writer who dedicates so much time to your muses and is so kind. I want to write with more of them! I want to give you all the hugs! I hope you don’t run away after reading this! ;)

☆ @starrdew Can I let you into a little secret? I love Eunbyul and Inhye’s friendship so much. I might even ship them a little more than that ;) I really wish we got to write more together because they’re all so fun to write. Dahee and Leo’s imugi and the prince verse still makes me smile every time I read something from it. Thank you for sticking with me for so long through snails paces and everything else.

☆ . 。.:*・ My Snowflakes・*:.  。. ☆

We don’t talk as much as we could. Which is really something I have to change. Or maybe we talked before and haven’t spoken in a long time. Still something I have to change. It’s more than likely I just admire you from afar, having no idea how to actually talk to you because I’m so in awe. Either way, thank you for being who you are, for writing your characters with such love and enthusiasm that my dash is filled with amazing stories every single day. I wish you the best time over the holidays and for friendship to find us next year.

@spvtnik  ☆ @sassofindie ☆ @shadowraiths ☆ @ambitiousxmonsoon ☆ @nitewishes ☆ @thcrnful ☆ @haebxtna ☆ @consilian ☆ @hyejvng ☆ @sooncerely ☆ @thefxmily ☆ @nvpch ☆ @snoopykbye @incubus-ravi ☆ @gumihc ☆ @kindredxhearts ☆ @vartouhix ☆ @busanbunnie ☆ @shcngrila ☆ @lifeinblack ☆ @manticxre ☆ @divinexwreckage ☆ @astraeignis ☆ @niiiightsky ☆ @pullstrings ☆ @jinseinoai ☆ @oculvus

[takaraphoenix]

Book Adaptations Wishlist

Let’s start with my biggest fandom that is based on a book-series. Percy Jackson and the Olympians, by Rick Riordan.

I’m one of the... very few who likes the Percy Jackson movies. Most certainly not in the sense of them being adaptations of the books. Hah. Good one. No, I view them more as “motion picture fanfiction”. I mean, damn the pretty cast they got. I love Clarisse and Chris in particular. And I will forever be grateful to the first movie because without it, I would have never in a million years found the books simply because I’m not a big reader so the only way I ever learn about books is by watching an adaptation and deeming it to be my taste.

Now, things with PJatO were a little more complicated than that. Back before the movie hit theatres, I was checking out all the releases announced for the year and among them was this. The word “Thief” in the title caught my attention because I love a good con movie or show. I clicked it and back then the link only lead to the book and a section about it getting an adaptation, so that’s how I found out it was a book adaptation. Reading the synopsis of the book, I thought it sounded pretty cool. Next step was, of course, to check the character list. Because I love Greek mythology.

Main character a son of Poseidon. That’s cool. I love elementals, particularly those with water-powers. And there, not far down, was the name that got me hooked. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. HOLY UNDERWORLD YES. Hades is my favorite male god. That his kid was listed as one of the main characters of the series - and NOT as a bad guy, because if modern adaptations taught me one thing, it’s that American authors love to paint everything in black and white and anything related to the underworld had to be the devil.

So Nico di Angelo was why I went to see the movie. Needless to say, Nico wasn’t in it because he only joins the series later on. But I did like the movie, Percy was cute, I was still curious to meet Nico, so when I found myself on a classtrip to Munich weeks later and was dragged from store to store and ended up in a bookstore where all six books (I do count The Demigod Files as part of the original series too) were on display at the time, I impulse-bought them.

I loved them. A lot. We’re not gonna talk about Heroes of Olympus here because that will take too many hours of my time. Let’s just say I don’t love them.

But yeah, the movies are not good adaptations of the books.

Then again, personally, I think that no movie can ever properly do a book justice. You can’t take a story that unfolds in like 500 pages of book and cram it into a two hour movie. You’re forced to cut sooo much out of it. It just doesn’t work.

That’s why I’m a huge fan of this new trend of adapting books as TV shows. It’s a very good way of covering more ground, taking things slow and giving the plot its due.

I’m desperately waiting for a good Percy Jackson adaptation. But I don’t want it to be live-action, to be honest. I mean, between Grover’s furry butt, Chiron’s horse-hide, the monsters and pegasi and demigodly powers, the show would need a huge special effects budget. And that’s just not gonna happen. So it’ll look cheap as fuck. Which would be an utter shame.

No.

I want a Percy Jackson cartoon show. I’d entrust DreamWorks with this. DreamWorks has done some amazing cartoon shows the last decade - Voltron, Dragons, Trollhunters. Particularly the cooperation with Netflix is working well for them. And with the team behind Avatar, like they’re doing with Voltron, I could REALLY envision a Percy Jackson cartoon. Imagine Percy water-bending like Katara or Korra, Nico looking like Keith in goth-clothes, I’d be dying to see that. Particularly considering that Avatar and Voltron use this beautiful 2D art style. I wouldn’t object to quality 3D like Trollhunters and Dragons, but I’d prefer 2D. I’m an old-fashioned gal like that.

To me, that would be the perfect way of adapting Percy Jackson.

Aaand I got a little lost in Percy Jackson. It happens. Oh well, I guess this is gonna be a long-ass entry then.

What I wanted to say was that I thoroughly approve of the TV show adaptation of books. I know I love Game of Thrones and Vampire Diaries and, of course as you may have noticed if you know me at all, Shadowhunters. All books I haven’t read (though I’m trying to read The Mortal Instruments. I’m just slow). I’ve just always been more of a TV-show kinda gal than a book-reader.

Now, if only they’d adapt the books that I actually love to read. That would be amazing. But somehow, I read stuff that doesn’t even get movies. Sure I read Percy Jackson and that got two failed movies, but we already covered that.

Because yes, I actually do read. Books that I haven’t met through their adaptations.

My all-time favorite book is Wicked, by Gregory Maguire.

I started reading it back in 2010 when I was doing an internship at our cozy local little bookstore - a very homey little place that was specialized on fantasy and sci-fi books. And Wicked was relatively fresh out back then and stood there in the special display and drew me in because of the green-skinned lady. I have a thing for green-skinned ladies, but that’s between me and Shego. So I started reading it during my breaks, when I had nothing else to do. Ten pages here, twenty pages there. By the time my internship ended, I was too hooked to forget about it so I bought it.

I saw its musical adaptation twice. Once in Stuttgart, the German version, and then when I was in London for the first time, the English version.

I love that musical as much as I loathe it.

The same as The Lightning Thief movie. And I mean it. Literally the same. You can view it as live-action fanfiction, but you can not with half-a-mind view it as an adaptation. It has as much to do with the book as The Lightning Thief movie had to do with The Lightning Thief book. That is to say, the characters shared the same names, but neither their behavior nor their physical appearance actually fit. And the plot, if you cook it down to a very basic one sentence summary - “Percy Jackson has to find the Lightning Thief” and “Elphaba Thropp rebels against the wizard” - fits, but do not ever dig for actual details, because those do not cover what happens in the book.

As a musical lover and someone who can view an adaptation as a separate thing from the source-material, I thoroughly love the musical. But as someone who loves that book to bits and pieces, I hate that the majority of people have only ever heard about the musical and are most likely not even aware of the book or haven’t bothered reading it and are now actually under the impression that all it is is a cheesy love-story. Which it is not. The romance is a foot-note in this long masterpiece that is basically a metaphor for the holocaust. And I will never be able to forgive the stupid fix-it shit of “Oh, Fiyero was turned into the scarecrow and they lived happily ever after”. No. They don’t. Or the fact that they turned my favorite character into a vindictive piece of crap.

(Okay, so maybe I am not as able to separate the two as I like to think, but cut me some slack they turned Elphaba’s trusted friend into a literal heartless tin-man who wants to slaughter her. What the fuck is that even.)

And I got lost again.

So, yes, I want a Wicked adaptation done right. A TV-show. After all, this is a book that literally covers her entire life, from birth to death. It tells a pretty long  story and I’d like to see it done right, instead of turned into a high school musical love drama, as the musical did. Not to mention I want to see the polyamorous relationship between Elphaba’s parents and Turtle Heart, maybe if we take more time for her childhood, we’d get more feels for the threesome too. Her two gay friends Crope and Tibbett. Her own “maybe not quite just friends” with Glinda. Her bisexual son who was entirely cut out of the musical. I mean, maybe we cut the girl out who married the Cowardly Lion, but uh they never had sex because she was a rape survivor who had no interest of ever having sex again - perhaps was even asexual, though it was never explicitely stated in the books - and only married him for safety reasons and all that did connect them was deep friendship?

I’d also like to mention my favorite book-series - while Wicked is my favorite book and its direct sequel Son of a Witch might be the only book I ever read within a literal day because I couldn’t put it down, the third and fourth books were a little on the... drawn out and exhausting side of things.

The Bartimaeus-series by Jonathan Stroud.

Bartimaeus is my favorite book-series, because it is - from start to finish - perfection. And Bartimaeus himself is a sassy little shit. We’d definitely need voice-over narration to not forget his sass. Can’t decide if I’d want it as a cartoon or as a live-action show though. But either way, I’d kiss the feet of the person who would fucking finally decide to adapt that book-series. I mean, seriously, among all the many, many shows and all the many, many adaptations these days, how has no oneever thought about giving this book any form of adaptation? It deserves it. It really does deserve a good adaptation.

And then there’s just one more. My favorite childhood books.

The Woodland Folk, by Tony Wolf.

I don’t think many people have ever even heard of this. It’s from an Italian author and as a child, I only owned two out of the twelve books that existed. But they were my most often read books. I knew them by heart, literally.

I later on, as a teen, bought the missing ten books on the internet and devoured them.

Those books are the reason I got hooked on fantasy, why I am obsessed with fairies and mermaids and witches. Tony Wolf’s illustrations in those books are the reason I always wanted to draw. They are beautiful and sweet and they would make for an amazing cartoon.

I know out of all of those books on this wish-list, this is the one that’s most far-out-there and will probably never happen, but I’d be ridiculously happy if it did.

[kitanoko]

*throws away fun in frustration* I NEED A SECOND PART OF THAT TODOMOMO FICLET. I hate you!!!

Note: HAHA, your hate has fueled my power. Rated T for Bakugou’s dirty mouth. Enjoy Part 2! 

READ PART 1 HERE: In which Todoroki tells her everything

One, two, three, four…five?

Tokoyami narrowed his eyes, fingers drawing arches in theair as he counted from one head to another. Holding onto his phone, he proppedit next to his beak.

“Sorry its 5 combos,not 4. That will be all, thanks,” Tokoyami glanced over at the boys thatgathered like ants around the salsa and guacamole, and tossed the phone over onthe couch. His friends splayed their bodies while laughing in front of the TVat something Midoriya just said.

“I didn’t know that Bakugou came,” Tokoyami noted as he crouched,“I almost didn’t order his dinner.”

“Yeah who brought Bakugou,” Todoroki said, looking over atthe culprits for an answer, and Bakugou flipped him a middle finger.

“Fuck you half and half,” Bakugou grabbed a few tortilla chipsand chewed it like a barbarian, “Kaminari told me you needed advice and draggedme here. I don’t wanna be here either. I got shit to do.”

Todoroki didn’t move a muscle, “Then you should go.”

“WHY YOU LITTLE-“

Kaminari and Midoriya instinctively pulled onto Bakugou’shood like a rein on a wild horse as the latter propelled forward, explosionscontained within his sweaty palms.

“He’s still like a crazy maniac ready to drink our blood,”Tokoyami shook his head as he bent his knees, “to get back to business,” thebirdman gestured with a nod to the guy next to him, “this is an interventionfor Todoroki as he clearly effed himself over two nights ago. Or a funeral, I’mnot sure yet.”

Kaminari’s mouth was ajar as he tried to eat salsa whilelaughing at Tokoyami’s dark humour, somehow not choking. A feat only idiotscould successfully execute.

“Yaomomo hasn’t told anyone the details yet. Or so Jirousays,” Kaminari gave Todoroki a crinkled smile, “if you could please do thehonours, we would very much like to know how exactly you dug your own grave.”

Todoroki exhaled, burying his face in his hands as theothers waited.

“So you guys know about how I took her outside the bar whenshe was dancing.”

Everyone nodded obediently, even Bakugou, who was stillgnawing on his food.

“I heard it from electric dolt over here so many times, Ithink I had it tattooed on my chest,” Bakugou teased, as if that was the cleverestthing he could come up with. Todoroki sent Kaminari, who had his hands beforehim in defense, a death glare.

“So after that I recall making out with her against the wallof the dry cleaners besides the-“

Kaminari actually choked his time, “no details please.”

“Go on,” Tokoyami said, ignoring Kaminari’s need of aHeimlich remover and Todoroki did a dramatic pause, as if the situation neededmore suspense.

“Then,” he took a deep breath, “I think I took her over tomy place for the night.”

He closed his eyes.

Silence.

As expected, when Todoroki’s eyelids lifted again, hisfriends were rendered like statues at the big reveal.

“Before we all start imagining things,” Midoriya was the firstto break the stillness, lopping his palms out to suppress the commotion.

“Oh don’t worry, I ain’t imagining jack shit,” Bakugouinterrupted in disgust and Midoriya continued.

“Taking her home forthe night essentially means just that. Maybe nothing happened between youguys.”

Todoroki could only mutter through the cushion he was using tocontain his exasperation, “She left her undergarment here. I found it on mybed. She probably left in a hurry.”

“Dude if it’s a bra, just say it,” Kaminari called out andTodoroki rolled his eyes hopelessly.

“Yes, her bra, okay?” The fire and ice hero, being a gentleman,barely said it audible enough for the others to hear. Trying to soothe whateverwas obstructing his vocal chords, which was likely just his guilty conscience,Todoroki interweaved his fingers together and cleared his throat.

“Could it just be abra from another girl that you forgot about?” Tokoyami attempted to soundsensible to Todoroki’s chagrin.

“I’ve never brought any girl home,” Todoroki indicatedmodestly and his friends all exchanged glances.

“For such a popular guy, you’re pretty tame,” Tokoyami saidand got back to the topic, “Anyways, I’d say just tell Yaoyorozu you made amistake and apologize.”

“No you don’t wanna tell a girl that,” Kaminari intervened,”she’ll get the wrong idea and think you were playing with her.” The electrichero scanned the room for a reaction, “Just give her bra back and leave. Done.Zip. No words needed.”

Midoriya’s lips tugged on one side forming a hesitant yetpleasing smile, “I think you should just wait for her to talk to you.”

Todoroki took his head in his palms, frustrated. He wasgrateful for his friends’ suggestions, albeit those being utterly rubbish. Oneperson hasn’t said a word yet. The boy pointed his gaze at Bakugou, waiting tofind a diamond in the rough, as rare as it is. Bakugou scowled back but finallyceased.

“I say you just tell her all the shit that’s cooped up deepinside,” Bakugou tottered his leg in annoyance, “listen to your shitty littleheart, if you even have one, and something will come out right.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened, putting a finger on his chin andheeded the philosophical advice, “Bakugou, thanks.”

The blonde boy hurried to mediate the awkwardness. Sentimentonly makes him weak.

“Don’t thank me, crap for brains. I’m just logical.”

~~

Be honest,Todoroki kept repeating those words like a parrot learning its first words. Hewould have never predicted the day he listened to Bakugou Katsuki.

Ding Dong

His doorbells echoed through the chasm of the vacant foyerand he launched himself off his seat, hands already sweating from self-doubt.  

“Hey,” he pulled open the door, keeping a straight face,“Come on in.”

The girl was holding a tray of wrapped up cupcakes in herarms, doing everything she could to bypass his gaze. In the back of her mind,she knew she brought them to keep herself out of focus.

“Todoroki, I thought it’d be nice to bring these, while wetalked.”

Talked. That wordmade the boy shudder.

Chaperoning her to his living room, he stuck his hand outpolitely to guide her to a spot on the couch and she took it, carefully lettingher purse go on the floor. For the better part of the next ten minutes, acurtain of muteness fell as Yaoyorozu’s eyes moved restlessly to him and backto her lap.

“Excuse the mess,” Todoroki started belatedly, scrutinizingthe salsa stain that Kaminari left on the carpet, “Yesterday, Midoriya and theothers came over.”

The girl faked a laugh to lighten the mood, “Oh, I see.”

“Here,” Todoroki removedhimself from the room for a negligible second, and thought that he swallowed sovisibly, the girl in front of him would have noticed without a doubt, “Uh, I’m surethis is yours.”

Yaoyorozu ogled at the article of clothing in his hand,mortified, and stuffed it into her purse, hoping it’d disappear from such a predicamentinto the depths of her bag.

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki planted a hand against the back of hisneck, turning away, “I don’t remember exactly what happened but I know we…uhh…”he kept his head low, “I just hope everything’s fine between us.”

The girl hugged her bag closer to her and perhaps it wasTodoroki’s imagination, but for a split moment, he saw disappointment reflectingfrom the darkness of her eyes.

“Yeah, of course, we’re good friends. And you were drunk.And I was just…” She wouldn’t allow herself to finish.

A burning, throat-scraping pain apprehended her as shepushed herself off the seat, making sure not to say another word. Todorokiconsidered the subtle movements of her clenched hands; if he didn’t stop hernow, he’d lose her forever.

“Wait,” He binded her wrist with his tight grip.

“It never even occurred to me that you had the need toapologize,” she turned her head over, every word penetrated with ire, “Did youregret? Is this what this is?”

“Of course not,” he responded and he could see her quiveringfrom either anger or defeat, “We’ve known each other for so long, I don’t wantanything to ruin our relationship.”

“And what is our relationship?”

Her words were eroded with a hostile fragility and the boystiffened, watching as she tried to free her from him.

“For not telling you the truth, I think that is actually mybiggest regret,” he saw her movement cede, “everything I said when I was drunk,I meant every part of it.”

She felt numb and he persisted on, “I was possessive. I wasselfish. I didn’t want anyoneelse to get close to you because-“  

She could sense his conviction, honesty, and dedication.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

She relaxed. His speech might be the most straightforward oneyet, but that’s what she liked about his character.

“I feel the same way,” she replied, tracing his expressionwith her gaze. Yearning to have a taste of her again, Todoroki invited her inhis arms with a pull of his wrist.

~~

“Kaminari,” Todoroki uttered groggily, “you gotta stopcalling me in the morning.”

His friend sneered, “So how was talking to Yaomomo?Everything settled?”

Todoroki angled himself to look at the girl sleepingserenely beside him, and he stroked a piece of her hair away from her face.Inch by inch, he walked out of the room and closed the door with a light touch.

“Talk quietly,” Todoroki said, hushed.

“Wait, why?” a revelation surmounted the boy on the otherside of the call, “oh my god, you friggin’…are you kidding me? Did you andYaomomo…”

“You don’t need to know,” Todoroki deadpanned, and laid hishead against the door. He heard a sigh.

“You’re so smooth,even I need to learn from you, mate,” Kaminari pestered, “well I’ll leave youtwo alone.” His shit-eating grin was too evident through the playful sound ofhis voice.

“Ah, see you.”  And Todorokihung up with a smile teasing his lips. Heading down the stairs with loosefootsteps, he threw on a t-shirt that was resting on the arm of a chair andpulled out the pots and pans.

The most difficult decision of that day was guessing ifhis girlfriend liked breakfast in bed.

[shayspieterse]

So… Today’s the last time we’re ever going to hear ‘Previously on Pretty Little Liars’. and today’s the last time we’re ever going to tag our posts with ‘pll lb’ and today’s the last time we’re ever going to freak out over PLL together, live. Today’s the last time non-American fans are going to be desperately looking for good livestream websites so they aren’t behind when the episode airs, and today is the last time we’re ever going to see our girls try and find out who A (or, A.D) is. Today is the last time we’re gonna spend all night pacing around our rooms, trying to figure out what just happened. Today is the last time we’re gonna cry over a new OTP moment, and today’s the last time we’re gonna rewatch the whole series to make up new theories about who the fuck A could be. Today’s the last time we’re gonna gif the crap out of the new episode and our OTP’s new scenes. Today’s the last time we’re going to see parallels between episodes and gif them, or try to get what they could mean.

It’s been seven years and nineteen days since the pilot episode aired. These seven years were a roller-coaster. We definitely wanted the show to be cancelled more than once. And we sure as hell hated this show to death for more than one season (cough, 5b, 6a, etc). But we also grew fond of the five liars, and while all of them have made terrible (and terribly stupid) mistakes, we love them. It’s been such an eventful journey. There’s no possible way to count how many tears and laughs we’ve shared together. How many times we’ve yelled at the screen because of how frustrated we were with how stupid the characters acted. How many times we’ve spent on Tumblr scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through a shit ton of theories, gifsets, and funny text posts. How many times we’ve been disappointed with the writers, and how many times we’ve been disappointed with how badly the characters were being treated. This show doesn’t have good LGBTQ+ rep, and basically almost everyone in Rosewood is white. This show has got more than a hundred plotholes that probably won’t be answered. This show has been my enemy at times, and I have to admit, I’ve thought about quitting more than once. But, as this old proverb I saw on twitter says, I can’t help but love my enemies. I truly love this show to Pluto and back. It’s the first (and probably the last) show I’ve ever been this attached to. I can’t thank this show enough for everything. It gave me something to look forward to every week. For me, this show was my safe place to land.

I sometimes truly think I lived in Rosewood for the past 7 years. I love the twisted people in Rosewood. I love the liars. And I love the amazingly talented, gorgeous women portraying our favorite characters. Lucy, Sasha, Shay, Ashley, Troian, Janel, Torrey, Vanessa,Andrea… This show wouldn’t be the same without them. As ridiculous and as cheesy as this sounds, PLL really taught me a lot. From friendship to how to hide a dead body properly (I learned from their mistakes). From love to knowing that I should always call the cops if I ever get threatened by an anonymous person. And, I want to take a moment to talk about the most legendary ship in Rosewood, as well. Emison. 

Emily and Alison are the most amazing characters for me. If they weren’t, this blog wouldn’t be dedicated to them. I don’t have enough words to describe what I feel towards them, and in fact, I don’t have any words. Emison is the most legendary ship out there. They have been through so much - separately and together - and they never stopped loving each other. Their relationship is nothing but love and loyalty towards one another (although both have made mistakes in the past). Emily never stopped caring about Ali, and Ali never stopped caring about Em. The connection they share is absolutely astonishing, breathtaking, and stunning. The Emison fandom has survived a war, literally, in 2015. I’m not going to remember all the details, but if you’re an Emison shipper reading this, you know. And we still never lost hope. Legends only. And the way Sasha and Shay portrayed these two great characters is just hypnotizing. And although both Alison and Emily (and Sasha and Shay) are sometimes the source of my pain, They’re both extraordinary and have a very, very special place in my heart. I’m gonna stop talking about them now because if I don’t, I’ll die.

Even though I have been watching PLL for about six or seven years, I only made this blog in 2015, I think. And I definitely don’t regret it. I have so many amazing memories with this fandom. I have made so many amazing friends that I’m never going to forget. Ever. Every single one of you have changed me as a person. You’ve shaped me into someone I never thought I’d become (a lazy ass hoe who doesn’t leave her room). And I’m forever grateful. Thank you to every person who has ever reblogged my posts. And thank you to everyone who has followed my trashy blog. I didn’t expect this post to be this long, but never mind. 

It’s done. Tonight we find out who A is, and as much as I want to, we won’t see a promo for season 8. You might think the game is over, though. But, to quote Sherlock Holmes, the game is never over. But there may be some new players now. And the new players will never realize how hard it was to sit around and wait for a new episode, how much suffering we went through when there were hiatuses, or how much we hated I. Marlene King sometimes. The soundtracks, the webs of lies, the plotholes, the characters, the church, the brew, the people, the radley, I’ll miss everything so much.

The characters that made us love them so much, they will always live in our hearts. Rosewood will always exist. We’ll always go back to rewatch the show, and re-read the books, and we’ll always remember them. We’re stuck. Forever and ever and ever and ever. And that, is immortality, my darlings. ;)

Excuse me for this very, very, very cheesy letter. 

But, for the last ever time… 

Happy Pretty Little Liars day! I love each and every one of you. :)

[wildandfluorecent]

GOODBYE PRETTY LITTLE LIARS

so, here we are.

the time has finally arrived that we must bid pll goodbye, and as i write this, listening to “liability” by lorde (and every sad song in my spotify lol), i cannot even express how truly grateful i am for that night in early june of 2014 when my brother and i were put in the hands of my friend's 16 year old brother and his girlfriend for the night, for said girlfriend for suggesting we watch some tv and putting on the show, for everything that occurred to bring pll into my life. the 10-year-old i used to be when i first watched the show probably (definitely) wouldn’t have grown into who i am today without this show.

firstly, i must thank the characters of pretty little liars for bringing so much life to our screens and teaching me so much over the three years i’ve been dedicated to this show.

alison - you have taught me that 1) being a bitch isn’t always a bad thing and 2) how important having strong friendships are and how no matter what, it’s always okay to come back home.

aria, thank you for being the quirky, eclectic girl you’ve always been. from you i will take with me to always listen to my heart, whether it comes to who i love, what i wear, and what i do.

hanna: your funny, mindless one-liners have never failed to make me laugh, and your sheer loyalty to your friends is something i will always admire, as well as your impulsiveness when it comes to protecting the people closest to you. thank you.

emily ~ you have always been unapologetically yourself, and i cannot thank you enough for it. you have shown me that sexuality and struggles that come with it will not define who you are. you have taught me to accept that part of myself (although idk what to label it rip) and your clothing style will always be my favorite.

spencer. where do i even start? i have always seen the most of myself in you, to be completely honest. your intelligence and knowledge of literally everything is something i aspire towards, as well as how you never fail to have some smart-aleck reply to someone. your persistence and true determination is something i have taken away from you, as well as your love for your friends. i admire your character so highly and i will miss you so, so much.

to the creators and the cast, thank you for taking a chance with pretty little liars as a tv show. you have created possibly the most iconic show of our generation (in my mind) and to say i am grateful for you is such an understatement. thank you to the cast for being the cast that you are, for all the bts snaps, award shows, hilarious interviews, and for portraying these characters that we all love so much. i speak for the whole fandom when i say that i am crazy grateful for you. all of y'all are my role models and i will miss seeing you on my screen every tuesday.

finally, to the pll tumblr fandom. at this point, i think we can call ourselves a family. you guys have been what’s kept me going for the past year, through all of the crap at school and stuff at home. this is my safe place to land. to everyone i’ve ever talked to on this site, to all my mutuals, all my followers, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. i will miss liveblogging with all of you, reading all the insane theories and m@rlene roasts, beautiful gifsets and everything else. i can promise you i’m not leaving anytime soon, and i hope that when it comes at time that i do (if it does lmao) i stay in touch with every amazing soul i’ve met on here. thank you for the joy, the passion, and the laughter you have brought me this past year on tumblr.

i guess this is goodbye, pretty little liars. thank you for these great seven years. just know that this show has brought me so much joy, so many friends, and so many lessons learned. i’ll never forget it. no matter where my life will take me, this is something that will stay with me forever. and you know why that is? it’s immortality, my darlings.

kisses! -isabel

[thirstyfortom]

Hey hey hey hon, I luv everything tou write, you're so creative! Can I request a scenario when RFA + Saeran and MC really like each other, but are embarassed to confess, but they get drunk/high together and the truth comes out and maybe things get a little heated, and next day they aren't sure if It was real?

Thx thx! I decided to do this one as mini-fics. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

RFA + Saeran and MC getting drunk and heated (NSFW -ish?)

Zen

He saw your name on his screen phone and picked up without even thinking. “Hey, Zenny! Whatare you up to?” if you only knew the way his heart and his imagination raceeverytime you call him Zenny, maybe you would be more careful of your words. “Nothingmuch, MC…What about you?” “I’m just bored, do you wanna hang out?” “Yeah,sure!” he tried to keep it cool, but inside he was screaming “yes, yes, yes!”“Cool, your place, I’ll bring the booze. Just wait for me!” he would wait foryou forever if you asked him… no, focus! Now he needed to clean up his house alittle and make himself presentable for you.

He knew hewould look gorgeous wearing anything, but knowing you were coming made him feellike nothing was good enough to impress you. “What if I just open the doorshirtless?” he laughed at himself only imagining your face, no, he would neverdo that, what if he scared you or made you get the wrong idea? He could neverlive with himself if something so silly and vulgar like that made you run awayfrom him… he didn’t imagine his life without you anymore, even if it was justfriendship.“Here, I bought that grapefruit beer we talked about, I also gotvodka.” He was shocked at how much booze you brought, you shrugged and told himit was 25% off, so why not?

He was alittle nervous, you’ve never been at his place that late and with booze,especially that much! What if…? No, he was a gentleman! Taking advantage of youlike this would be wrong in so many ways! “What’s wrong, Zenny? Cat got yourtongue?” “Ugh, don’t even joke about things like this, MC! Just imagining oneof these fur balls that close to my precious face…” “Oh, I would be so jealous,you have no idea!” Oh… what? His heart just skipped a beat, he looked at youflustered, you weren’t even looking at him and just chugged the rest of thebeer. Were you a flirty drunk? What a grateful surprise! Grateful or… too muchtempting? “Uhh, I’m hot!” Yes, you were…wait ! Oh, you’re feeling hot! He got that when you threw your jacket at thecorner of the sofa… Dangerous thoughts, Zenny, dangerous thoughts! He wasn’tused mixing drinks like this, the effects were showing pretty fast on both ofyou.

“Hey, sinceyou’re here, would you mind helping me practice some lines?” he needed to makethose ideas go away from his filthy mind. “Sure! Can we go to your rooftop?It’s really hot in here…” “Yes, of course.” Yes, this was better, knowing somesneaky neighbor could be looking would be a good inhibition.

“So, uh…here, let’s start from page 4. On this scene, the guy confesses his feelings toa girl he’s in love with for a very long time.” “Oh, what made him decide toconfess?” “You mean, the character’s motivation? Hum… he’s afraid of losing herto another man, and would be such a tragedy, right? Losing the woman of hislife because he’s a coward?” “Yes, I could only imagine… so, I’m the girl?”WHAT? “On the scene…” you explained, as he looked puzzled. “Oh, yes! Yes! I’mgonna start now, ok?” you nodded and he cleared his throat. As he talked, youfelt like the sky was getting darker, the stars shining were nothing comparedto his scarlet eyes peering at you, waiting for your line… “You make my heartrace so much, Zenny…” “Huh, that’s not… the line, MC. Are you improvising?” hefidgeted through the script pages, and stopped when he felt your hand holdinghis. “Would you like to feel it? My heart…?” “W-What?” MC, what are you doin…oh god!” he let out a groan when you placed his hand on your chest. “MC, don’tdo this to me, please…” “Shh, it’s okay… see how much it’s racing? I want youto make it race even more… if you just…” your face was getting closer andcloser…

Zen woke upcompletely sweaty. What was that? Another wet dream with you? How many of thosedid he have that week? But this one felt a little more real…Part of him washoping for this to be one of his premonitory dreams… who knows? One day he’d bebrave enough to tell you how much he cherished you and wanted to hold you tightand never let it go… he was took aback by his phone, where a text of you couldbe read. “Hey, Zenny! Are you okay? Think I forgot my jacket there, can youbring it for me? See ya ;)”

Yoosung

Youappeared at his apartment out of the blue. Well, you told him you were comingover, he didn’t take it seriously, but there you were, standing at his doorwith a bottle of vodka on your hands. “What’s that, MC?” “I heard you killedyour mid terms, so I thought I could stop by to celebrate. But I understand ifyou’re too busy…” “N-no! Not at all! I was going to play LOLOL, but this lookslike more of a celebration for a college student, I guess… Come in, MC!”

You wouldalways look perfect at his eyes, but there was something about you that nightthat made you look hypnotizing. Your eyes, your smile, the way you tucked yourhair behind your ear and chugged the vodka. “Ugh, my hair is a mess today!Would you mind borrowing me one of your hairpins?” he would gladly do so, eventhough he couldn’t really see the mess, your hair was flawless as usual… but hetook the one that was on his hair and handed to you “Can you tie it for me?”you grinned, he blushed as his fingers slightly touched your forehead. “Comeon! I can’t be the only one being drunk here! I won’t look like a fool bymyself! Drink it just a little? For me?” he drank staring at you, he would doanything you wanted asking like this.

He feltloosening up pretty fast after he drank. His face was burning and he wasfeeling tipsy, maybe he was a little stronger than he thought? That was cool…“So, I told you on the messenger, but I’m gonna say it again, congratulationson your mid terms! I’m so happy for you, you have no idea!”

“Thanks,MC, I… I was only able to do it thanks to your encouragement, you know that? Ifeel like I’m going back to my high school days, when I felt so motivated…you’re a great motivation for me… I mean, for my studies and… you know.” Yougiggled. “I’m glad to know that! So… Yoosung in high school… I gotta say, youlooked cute, I would totally have a crush on you if we studied at the sameschool…” “Y-You would?” he felt his throat get dry. “Yep! I mean… I definitelyprefer you blonde now… but back then I would still fall for you, and… wait tosee you at parties, so we could play spin the bottle or 7 minutes in heaven…”What were you saying? You were talking so naturally, like it was nothing,couldn’t you see how thrilled he was getting? “I… I was… a big nerd backthen, I didn’t go to parties… so I… I… never played any of these… games…” “Oh,what a shame, isn’t it?” “Iguess…”

You lookedat him, his cheeks were so pink, his wide eyes were half closed, his hairlooked messy… he looked so sexy right now, his hands were so pretty… howwould it feel having these skillful gamer fingers tangling to your hair?Touching your body?

“So… do youwant to make it up for lost time?” “What?” “Do you want to play right now?”“P-Play what, MC?” “It’s your choice, but if you ask me, I would prefer 7minutes on heaven, so I guess I’m a little biased here…” he gasped, what washappening right now? You were so close to him on the couch, he could feel hisarm rubbing in your shoulder, you looked so soft, so smooth… and you smelledamazing! So he took the empty bottle of vodka, placed in the table and spun… itpointed to him and… the lamp? Oh crap!

You laughed, took the bottle and placed it to point to you and him. You leaned to him, hecould feel your breath on his face…

Yoosungwoke up feeling like he got hit by a truck, his head was about to explode! Hiseyes were close, he was afraid to open them up and get hurt by the daylight…but then he remembered, and he opened his eyes in surprise… you weren’t there…oh no! Did he have one of those naughty dreams? This was so embarrassing, howcould he look at you again if the only thing he had in mind was that dream? Hewould act even weirder around you… yeah, like he had a chance with you before!Wake up, Yoosung! A girl like you would never even look at him, on high school,college or in the RFA… you were too much for him! All he had was these filthydreams…

He runnedhis fingers through his hair and noticed he didn’t have the hairpin on, hedidn’t remember taking it off… it must be on his nightstand… oh! He found thehairpin, along with a note: “Tnx for the hairpin and for last night. Call youlater ;)”

Jaehee

You invitedher to go to a bar with you, you were feeling stressed because of work andcould really use a girl’s night. She gladly agreed to, she loved the idea of agirl’s night because she never had many girls as friends, this made her feelso… normal. And it was you, so she knew she was in for a very fun night.

You lookedstunning, she felt like she wasn’t properly dressed for that bar, you told hershe looked amazing and she couldn’t help but blush, a goddess like you tellingshe looked amazing? She never felt this flattered.

A few guysapproached you two at the bar, you politely refused , telling you were just infor some fun with your friend. Her heart was racing everytime you waved agoodbye to a guy and came back to her smiling.

“So, have Itold you about my boss? My god, Jaehee, what a prick!” and she listened toeverything you had to say, you were adorable when you were mad, the way youmoved your hands to accentuate your words and the way your voice got into ahigh pitch, ah… it was just… so charming.

“Seriously,what’s wrong with him? He’s the worst boss ever!” “Hmmm, I’ll have to disagreeon that one, MC.” “Oh my God, yeah, Jumin! I totally forgot how much… handfulhe is…” “Handful? We’re talking about the man that made me cut my hair and useglasses just so I didn’t look attractive to his father.” “Well, if it makes youfeel any better, you looked totally attractive to me…” and you took another sipof your drink. “I… looked?” “I mean, you look gorgeous right now too, but Iliked your androgynous appeal very much, it was… sexy…”

She couldnot believe what she was listening, gorgeous, appeal, sexy? She never heardthings like this referring to her, she didn’t know how to respond, so she justmumbled a shy “thanks” and you winked at her!!! Oh my god! What’s gotten intoyou? And why was she feeling so hot? Maybe it was because of these fancy crazydrinks?

You knewwhat you were doing, those drinks really boost your confidence to finally makea move on her, you’ve been gathering courage to do this for months, it was nowor never… “You look so cute when you’re shy, Jaehee…” “M-Me? Cute? MC,what’sgoing with you today? You’ve been complementing my… looks too much…” “I woulddo everyday if you let me, Jaehee. Will you let me?” “Oh, I… yes, thank you,MC.” “No, thank you…” and you leanedto her to tuck a locket of her hair behind her ear, her heart was racing likecrazy! “So… my place or yours?” you asked playfully. Your lips were so close…she closed her eyes in anticipation…

Jaehee wokeup still a little dizzy, she sighed knowing she was still a little drunk, andthe hangover would be a torture! She could use a cup of coffee right now! Soshe went to the kitchen, and then she remembered… oh my, drunk dreams can beso… real. She blushed remembering the things in her dream, your soothing voicecomplimenting her beauty over and over… if only it was real…

She grabbedher favorite mug, poured the coffee… weird, she didn’t remember making anycoffee… and she gagged when she saw a post-it on the coffee machine. “Thoughtyou might need some after last night. Call me :)”

Jumin

He invitedyou over for some wine, he didn’t think you were actually gonna say yes, butyou did, and now he was nervous about what would be the perfect tie for theoccasion. “What about this one, Elizabeth the 3rd?” the cat meowedloudly, so yep, it would be that one, he just hoped you would like too.

Buy why washe so worried about this? What was about you that made him get worried aboutthe silliest things made him feel afraid it wasn’t enough? He wasn’t enough? Tobe your friend or… oh, what was he thinking?

“Thanks forhaving me tonight, Mr. Han.” You smiled cheerfully. “No need to be so formal,MC.” “I know, I was just messing with you, where’s Elizabeth? I brought her alittle treat…” and you handed him a tiny bottle of wine for cats, you messingwith him and now this? He couldn’t help but smile softly. “Oh, that’s a nicetie!” and now he was almost grinning.

As soon asyou started drinking, he felt loosening up as his weird jokes started comingout and he even laughed! Truth is he couldn’t stop smiling everytime he glancedat you. That night was all about you, he asked you a million questions aboutyour family, friends, work, and he was living for the stories of you incollege. “You were very eccentric, I suppose.” “Nah, I was just trying to havefun, studying, going to frat parties, playing Truth or Dare, you know, thingsall college students do…” “I… never played Truth or Dare… on college or…”“Really? Not even with V?” “No, I wouldn’t be comfortable with him either.”

There wassomething adorable about him looking so vulnerable… you admired Jumin’sconfidence, but seeing him open up a little stirred something inside of you.“Are you comfortable right now?” “I suppose.” “Okay… ask me!” “Pardon?” “Truthor Dare! Ask me if I want Truth or Dare!” your voice sounded very enthusiastic,the wine was getting to you.

“Truth orDare, MC?” he smirked. “Hmmm… Truth.” He looked at you, confused. “Oh, I didn’texplain the rules, right? You just have to ask me a question, and I have totell the truth, usually you ask something I can only answer yes or no, but I’llmake an exception since it’s your first time. Ask me anything!” This wasdefinitely interesting…

“Why didyou accept my invitation to come here tonight?” “That’s easy! I enjoy yourcompany, Jumin, very much!” “Oh… I… enjoy your company as well, MC.” Your eyeswere locked, you looked dazzling, he was fascinated by your honesty,spontaneity and uniqueness… “Truth or Dare, Jumin?” Oh… now it was your turn…the wine made him curious and adventurous “Dare.” “Okay… I dare you to show mehow much you enjoy my company, Jumin…” you made your way to him and sat on hislap, Jumin was shook, this was so bold and… exciting! You felt his hand move tothe back of your neck and pull you closer…

Jumin wokeup when Elizabeth climbed up to the bed, next to his head, her whiskers tickledhis forehead and he opened his eyes, longing to find you beside him in the bed…you weren’t there. It was all a drunk delirium? You were being the death of himthat much that he was dreaming about you again? He felt a little disgusted athimself for covering an adorable sweet lady like you of impure thoughts! Impure and delicious thoughts…

His phonebuzzed and that smile from last night was back on his face again when he readyour text: “I hope Elizabeth enjoyed the wine and you enjoyed the night. Seeyou at my house tonight!”

Saeyoung

He usuallywouldn’t drink, but you were so adamant about it, pouting and begging him tojoin you it was impossible to say no. And he knew it was the right decision assoon as you turn your pouting into the brightest smile he had ever seen. If youonly knew how much he loves your smile… especially when he was the reason foryou to be smiling…

“But… Ihave one condition. It has to be on my terms!” he said on a very teasing tone.“You name it!” he wasn’t expecting you would agree so quickly, that got himexcited. “So… I propose a drinking game featuring the RFA chatroom!”

Yoosungmakes a typo? Shot! Jaehee scolds Yoosung for wasting his life over LOLOL?Shot! Jumin posts a blurry picture? Shot! (Bonus shot if it is a picture ofElizabeth)  Zen uses the words:“handsome”, “jerk” or “furball’? Shot! Anybody ask you if you have eaten? 3shots!

Two hoursand 16 shots later, you two were turnt! Laughing of everything and youunconsciously started being a  littlehandsy, resting your head on his shoulder, touching his arm without apparentreason… he noticed and got nervous. You two chose some light drink knowing itwould be a lot of shots, and he knew he was losing control of his good judging,and you leaning over him like this… lord help him, he was shivering!

“Are youcold? I can warm you up!” you told him smiling. “I’m fine, MC.  Hey! We didn’t… we didn’t finish our game! Weshould do an edition featuring… us!” “Us?”

“Yeah! Youknow, everytime I do a crazy joke, I take a shot, and… everytime you… do thatthing with your… no,forget it!” “I do what?” “Nevermind, I don’t know what I’msaying!” “Saeyoung…” oh! He melted everytime you said his real name… “Yep, thatthing with your… breasts?” “What about my boobs, Saeyoung?” he didn’t sense anyhint of teasing, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’sjust… you… use your arms to… push them together and… MC, I’m really drunk!” hewas so embarrassed.

“Yeah, noshit!” you laughed. He was blushing so much, it looked so sweet! You loved howhe was always trying to play cool and be the memelord, but whenever you were ableto get him like this, it was just… too much satisfying!

“So… wereyou looking at my boobs?” “Well, it’s hard not to look when you… you do that…but it’s nothing dirty, it’s just… cute.” “Cute?” “Yeah…” “I see… do you wantto feel  how cute I am?” “What? MC,I…”“Because I think you’re pretty cute too, and I can see your… cuteness showingup right now…” you moved your hand to under his shirt, he was gasping… “Comeon, Saeyoung, show me your cuteness…”

He woke upwith Saeran throwing a pillow at his face. He dozed off on the couch and hishead was spinning around a little… but most important, where were you? You werehere last night, weren’t you? Drinking with him, laughing at and with him, andtouching him… oh hohoho! What a nasty dream! You would tease him forever if youheard about this. But what other reactions you could have? Could you enjoy this as much as he did?

“Get off,you fool! It’s my turn now! Don’t try to play funny and break our deal!”Saeyoung looked puzzled from what his brother was saying. “Seriously, you andMC had the house for yourselves last night, now it’s my turn! Go to her place orsomething, she said you could go when you wake up, so move” and boy did he move

Saeran

You justwanted to run away for a few hours, work was stressing your mind off and  your family was bothering you with nonsense.Seeing your struggle, Saeran kidnapped you, sorta.

He justtook you to this motel out of town and explained he would go there once in awhile to run away from his brother a little and just enjoy some alone time. Hewas sharing his secret place with you, how cool was that?

You broughtsome whisky along with you. Usually he didn’t drink, but he decided to joinyou, it’s been a while since he haven’t drink anything but Dr. Pepper, since itwas the only drink available at his house.

“To ourproblems” you proposed a toast. He laughed softly, “To being fucked up” and youboth chugged. You loved how comfortable he would be around you, it made you feel special, and he looked so handsome under the moonlight coming inside the bedroom by the window. And a chug quickly became a few chugs, and then a lot…

“Hey, isthis one of those motels with pools?” you asked. “Yeah, I guess…” “Cool! Comeon!” you dragged him out of bed, which was a relief, because he was starting tofeel weirdly aroused with you beside him in the bed.

“Wanna gofor a swim?” you asked him. “What? No! You’re drunk and you don’t even have aswimsuit!” he was sitting on the board of the pool, looking at the water. “Sayswho?” he just saw you jumping in the water and your dress thrown at his face.

He wouldn’tdare to look, were you… in the buff? He sighed in relief when he saw you werewearing underwear, a lacy black bra and dark pink panties… you looked…beautiful… “Won’t you join me? The water is great!” “I… I don’t know how toswim.” “Oh, it’s not even that deep. See?” you stood up and now he could seeyour whole body, he looked away, blushing.

“It’s okay,I can teach you to float, at least.” You went to him on the board, he felt hiswhole body tensing up. “N-No! I don’ want to! Get away from me!” “Are youafraid?” you teased him, he glared at you. “I’ll show you afraid!”

He took hisshirt off and jumped in the water, the – thank god – cold water. You made yourway to him and  put your hands on hisshoulders. “Do you trust me, Saeran?” “Unfortunately, I do…” you giggled andrested your head on his chest, when you looked up, your eyes were locked to his, hishands slipped to your waist…

Saeran wokeup screaming out your name. He looked everywhere in the house for you, but youweren’t there? A dream? Really? Well, this was better than all his terriblenightmares, so much better! But still… why couldn’t it be real? He wanted totake you to his special place and make you feel special… would he ever be ableto or should he just settle with his dreams?

“Hey, bro!Are you okay? You got home all soaked last night! Oh, and MC left a message,you should call her” he never thought something Saeyoung said would make him sohappy.

[feuerfrettchen]

Hai there! For the shipper-meme, would you please answer 1-6, 11-15, 18, 20, 26, 30, 31, 37 and 40? Thanks in advance! :D

1.      Talk about the first ship you ever had.

Huh, that’s a difficult one. I can’t rememberwhen exactly I started shipping characters (with someone other than myself,heh), but I think I shipped Abel Nightroad and Esther Blanchett of “Trinity Blood” at some point. It’s hard to say, sorry. But there’sthis one ship that grew so dear to me that I started writing about it – a lot: Royx Riza of Fullmetal Alchemist aka “Royai”. They are also the reason Istarted uploading my writing. And… Well. You could say it’s thanks to them thatI met a lot of amazing people – and some of them still mean very much to me.So, even if I don’t write about it anymore, it’s still a very special ship tome (see next question for more details).

2.      Talk about three of the most important shipsthroughout your life.

Royai (Roy x Riza |Fullmetal Alchemist): It was the first ship I recognized as such. Thanks to it, I met a lotof people, improved my writing significantly and made many experiences. Royaimeans so much to me I feel a little bad that I don’t write about them anymore.It’s still a wonderful ship, grown out of pure loyalty and a shared past thatbinds them together. They would walk to hell for each other, they would supporteach other no matter what. Even if it gets them hated by the world they wouldjust do what they think is right. Even if they die, they would fight to protecteveryone dear to them and they would take any effort to make their dreams cometrue. Yes, that ship means a lot to me. Roy and Riza – no, the whole mangashaped me in my way of thinking. And I’m grateful for that.

Dany x Jorah (Game ofThrones): I had stopped shipping for quite some time because of some badexperiences I made. Then I started reading A Song of Ice and Fire and watchingGame of Thrones. I immediately fell in love with Jorah. His loyalty, hisdevotion – his love for his queen. Even though he started as a spy for herenemies he eventually saw that she – and no one else but she – is the rightfulqueen. He sees her gentle heart hidden behind the cold mask that life forcesher to wear. He is her loyal knight and he would walk to hell itself, if needbe. He would do anything for her and I shed tears when she forgave him for hisbetrayal. That one picture, where he holds out his hand and she takes it,knowing he would never ever let her go will forever be stuck in my head. It wassuch a wonderful moment in the middle of a fight. And then there was thatscene, where they – once again – reunited only to separate again, since Jorahhas to find a cure for his greyscale and does not dare to be near her anymorebecause he fears that she would get infected too. I cried. Especially when sheordered him to come back to her. It is Game of Thrones after all and I am inconstant fear that both of them might die. This ship tortures me just as muchas it pleases me. I love it. I hate it. I just wish for Jorah to be by herside. There is no need for a romantic relationship anymore. Just being thequeen and her loyal knight will do. I don’t want them to die separated fromeach other. I want them to be together, side by side, seeing the Game ofThrones through to the end.

Jivia (Jigen x Livia |Lupin III): At some point, I couldn’t take the feels I had for Dany and Jorahanymore, because I just couldn’t imagine a happy future for them. Once again:It’s Game of Thrones after all. This is why I stopped shipping them activelyand with it, I stopped writing for quite some time. It was during my finals ontop of that, so I didn’t even have the time to think about writing. But still.Writing is my passion and without it I started to feel bad and I grew verypessimistic. And then, nearly two years ago, I started watching Lupin III,right before series 4 premiered in Italy. I fell in love with the whole gang almostimmediately but as usual I had one favourite who is still standing above allthe others: Jigen.While I was waiting for new episodes to air,I started watching the other seasons, movies and OVAs and grew even moreattached to the gang. Then episode 4 aired – and I loved it. Jigen, showing hisbadass gunman skills and Zenigata being amazing in his job. And on top of that:the Italian dub.It. Was. So. GOOD!This dub was the reason why I started tolearn Italian, by the way. And it did a great job in motivating me!Anyway, after a few days had passed, Iwatched the episode a second time, because, well… I felt like I had to. Andthis second time was, when I started thinking about Livia. I found that the episode leaves a lot of room for interpretation on hercharacter and this is how it all started. I grew to like her and eventuallystarted shipping her with Jigen, because I thought they’d really fit togetherand because of one certain prompt a close friend sent to me that started itall. I’ve been shipping them ever since then and they never let me down. Theygot me into writing again and manage to make every day a little brighter, nomatter how bad it is.

3.      What’s your current OTP?

Jigen x Livia! I’ve startedshipping them at the end of September in 2015 and I have no intention ofstopping. They inspire me so much and they make me so happy – I won’t let go ofthese two so easily!

4.      What’s your current NOTP?

Jigen x Lupin, tbh. It’s mostly because I havesome headcanons that prevent me from shipping it. I see Lupin as someone whoneeds his freedom in everything he does – including relationships. On the otherhand, Jigen went through so much romantic crap already that I’m pretty sure he wouldwant one and only one person he can love without fearing they’d betray him atsome point. Yes, Lupin would be such a person – he IS his best friend after all– but I think of Jigen as a rather possessive person, especially in romanticalmatters. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want to “share” that special person. Ittook him long enough to find them, anyway. And as mentioned before, I thinkLupin wants his freedom. I just can’t imagine him binding himself to only oneperson, so… The ship wouldn’t work out too well, in my opinion.However, I do prefer them as my BroTP and Ilove the trust and loyalty they show each other.

5.      Do you have any poly ships?

No, I haven’t, because that’s not really mycup of tea. I guess I’m a little old-fashioned here, or… Well. I just don’tlike characters feeling excluded or neglected, especially when it comes to love orfriendship, because I know that feeling all too well and it’s my favouritecharacters that help me out of such situations. It’s because I think exactlythis would happen in a polyamorous relationship that I don’t like such things,so… No. I don’t have any poly ships and I don’t think I’ll ever have some.

6.      How do you feel about love triangles?

I don’t like them. It’s the same as with polyships: I can’t stand it, when a character feels excluded. Depending on how it’swritten, I find it pretty annoying as well.

11.   Talk about your favorite first kiss.

Sadly, there is none.

12.  Have you ever been disappointed when yourship finally got together?

I have no ship that “finally got together”,because I have a talent for picking up ships that will never get canon :|There are just two exceptions of canon ships (RumBelle and OutlawQueen fromOUAT), but I started shipping them AFTER they got canon, so I guess thatdoesn’t count.

13.  Has a ship ever broken your heart?

Yes. I just have to think about Daenerys andJorah and I could cry.

14.  How do you feel about will they/won’t they?

Not really my thing, tbh. It’s understandablethat two people don’t want to yell their feelings at each other the first timethey meet, but… Most of the time it just annoys the hell outta me.

15.  Have you ever “shipped at first sight”?

Huh, I don’t think I have. It’s possible thatI think: “Oh, those two could make an interesting couple!” but I usually needquite some time until I start shipping seriously. I really need to know thecharacters and I need to see some interactions between them before I start shipping.

18.   Talk about a moment which made you question an entire ship.

Phew. I can’t think of one, sorry ^^“

20.   Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping.

Jigen x Livia – it reallyfeels like I’m the only one who ships them. Sadly.

26.   Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamicyou’re more drawn to?

Yup! Both of them are usually strongcharacters, but not always in a physical way. I love loyal, protectivecharacters and I really enjoy teamwork in a ship. I love it, when one has gotthe back of the other, when they fight side by side and work together, equally.I find it pretty frustrating when one side depends on the other and isn’t ableto do anything on their own. This is NOT how a healthy relationship should be,in my opinion.

30.   Name a couple of fandoms in which you have no ships.

You should better ask forfandoms I HAVE ships in, since there aren’t too many :’D Well, here, have someexamples: Gankutsuou, Hellsing, Persona 5, Kingdom Hearts, The ThreeMusketeers.

31.  Talk about one of your favorite headcanonsfor a ship you love.

Huh, that’s a difficult one. I have a lot ofheadcanons for Jivia and I can’t really decide which one I like best. It’sbasically everything that concerns their interactions with each other. Since Jigenisn’t very talkative, Livia will pick up that habit at some point, because shenotices that it’s a lot easier to communicate with him, if she doesn’t usewords – but actions. She herself is a rather calm person, who doesn’t show herfeelings much, because for her job it is necessary to not let her feelingsaffect her work. She learnt to cover them up behind a mask, learnt to controlthem until she finishes her shift and then releases them all at once whennobody can see or hear her.

They are not an all-time lovey-dovey-coupleand sometimes it seems as if they do not show any affection for each other atall. It’s because there is a lot of meaning in the small gestures they share –one can easily overlook such simple things, not noticing them at all. May it bea gentle touch on the shoulder, just using her fingertips or even a certainsmile; a tip on the brim of his hat or a hand that reaches out, asking silentlyfor her trust.

They don’t show much of their feelings whenthey are with others, but they do open up, when they’re alone. Sometimes itdoes take a while until they allow their faces to show how they really feel,especially when they are worried or sad, but they are very quick to share aloving smile, hugs or cuddles. They don’t need many words – they really liveup to the saying: “actions speak louder than words”.

However, it doesn’t take much to notice that Jigenisn’t someone who likes to talk about his feelings. Having a seriousconversation about their relationship and feelings for each other might startout to be a bit complicated, even exhausting, but as time goes by Livia learnsto read in his eyes, in his smile and in his gesture. The words they speak domean the world – or they don’t mean anything at all. It all depends on thesituation and the people surrounding them.

37.   Do you have a favorite trope and/or AU for your OTP?

Favourite trope:

Honestly, I don’t knowanything about tropes, so I can’t really answer this. I guess something like “Outlaw Couple” would fit them, but… not entirely. Let’s just leave it at thatand move on to the AUs.

Favorite AU:

I have lots of AUs and Ilove most of them, but I noticed that there is one particular AU I’m working harder onthan anything else: the werewolf/mage AU. It’s based on this prompt and you might guess who’s thewerewolf and who the witch/mage. However, I’m still working on roles for theother members of the Lupin family. Yes, that includes Zenigata as well. He, too, will have some magic on him and I’m looking forward to writing from his perspective, since he’ll have a... Well, “different view” on magical beings than most people. Heheh.And! I wanna give Lupin a magic maskfor his disguises, because… Hnngh. I love masquerade masks and they could look pretty good on him, but I haven’t decided yet.

Anyway, I’ve been thinkinga lot about this universe, how the magic works, the laws concerning magic andmagical creatures and so on. I’m still not finished, though, but I’lldefinitely keep working on it!

40.   If you could change one thing about your OTP, what would that be?

Nothing, honestly. I’m happy with it just as it is. The only thing Icould wish for is that Livia gets a second appearance in the series – but thenagain, maybe it’s better, if she doesn’t come back, since Jigen’s loveinterests have a high tendency of dying in his arms. I’d prefer her to stayalive in canon and since that wish has already been granted there’s nothingmore I would want.

[find the meme]

[shesailsships]

2016 in review

Tagged by @frenchcirce <3

total number of stories (completed/WIPs):

7 completed (they are one-shot fics) || 3 WIP...one fanfic and two original works

total word count:

I’m just going to tally my fanfic word counts here (my original works are always in flux, I’m constantly adding and cutting)...9,985 published without counting Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money...with counting Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money-- are you ready for this? A whopping 236,716 words. GLM had become monster sized, it’s hundreds of pages long at this point...and still going lol! 

fandoms written in:

Oh gosh, I’ve written for quite a few. My very first fandom was JAG and it was what introduced me to what fanfiction was. I wrote many many fics for JAG, eons ago. They were my first writings. They’re still out there somewhere, lost in the internet. So yes, JAG for one. Later I wrote for Primeval. I’ve written a short piece for The Pretender. I tossed my hat in the ring and was moved to write a one-shot for Clintasha. Ghost Hunt though, has been a long beloved muse of mine, and the only fandom I’m currently writing for with any regularity. There are so many fandoms I follow-- I have a whole folder on my computer full of half-finished fic...I can say that I’ve attempted writing for just about every ship that I love <3 

looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected?

I always seem to write less than I want, so sad! At the beginning of each year I have these grand plans of making more time for my writing, goals of writing for more fandoms that I love, publishing more one-shots, ect. Unfortunately, I rarely seem to be able to follow through with these plans. It’s 2017 now, and once again I’m back on the grand dreams train. I desperately want to write more this year, especially on GLM. I’d love to get four solid chapters out this year...maybe even finish it? We’ll see :)

what’s your own favorite story of the year?

We’ll since we’ve gone over the fact that I haven’t been very prolific lately, it would have to be my WIP, Ghost Hunter, Lies, & Money. That being said, I would choose GLM as my favorite anyways. I’ve been writing it for 10 years now. It’s apart of my heart, I am so tremendously proud of it <33

Original works wise, the novel idea I started revisiting in 2016 has got me so excited. I can’t wait to grow this idea more and develop it into something. 

did you take any writing risks this year?

Does not writing count as a risk? lol! It sure feels risky to me...[glances at readers nervously] Not to mention I go slowly crazy without a creative outlet. I NEED TO WRITE. In all seriousness though, I feel like every time I open Word I take new risks. Approaching my original works is both a exciting and terrifying experience. I am writing out of my comfort zone, about characters I don’t know very well yet, in a setting I’m not quite knowledgeable about yet. Very different from Ghost Hunt.

do you have any fanfic or profit goals for the new year?

Like I said I’m in it’s-a-new-year-imma-write-lots mode, so I have lots of plans for 2017...but at the very top of my priority list is publishing new chapters for GLM. I am dying to share this final arc with my readers <3

best story of the year?

GLM...because that’s the one I feel most proud of? I feel it’s the best of my works anyways! That, and I didn’t write anything other than GLM this year. Aside from starting my original novel that is...and that’s still shaping up! 

most popular story of the year?

Why, Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money of course! I’ve had 10 years to build a following of the most lovely readers in the entire world. To know there are people out there who actually want to know ‘what happens next?!’ amazes and honors me. I am truly blessed. 

story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

Kindred Spirits, my only Pretender fic-- as well as my Memily one-shots. The Pretender is a small fandom, so I know there’s not much traffic, but I really feel I captured ‘a moment’ in that piece, and I think other fans would enjoy it if they knew it was out there :) As for my Memily one-shots, that’s just me waving my shippy flag proudly, and wishing someone else out there would join in with me. Memily is a small niche ship inside the Primeval fandom, I’m a passionate shipper, but I’m one of the few [sigh]

most fun story to write:

GLM! I get so excited about different plot points, revealing twists, badgering my characters with embarrassing hijinks, setting up inside jokes. I often laugh to myself while writing it, much to the alarm of my cat lol!

story with the single sexiest moment:

Hee, hee, hee-- I guess it depends on your perception of sexy? Sorry kids, I don’t do NC-17. I come from the Jane Austen school of romance. A brush of the hand. A low whisper. Locked eyes. Surprise gestures, which reveal hidden feelings. Subtly. I am a huge fan of the ‘slow-burn’, building tension. Passion is an aspect of romance that is fascinating to me. I feel you can have passionate characters, involved in a passionate romance...and not have to hit the sheets in the first chapter. I really enjoy writing passionate characters... characters who are passionate about each other...and how that passion comes out. But anyways, back to the question! 

Sexiest moment I’ve ever written? In my style, I guess you could look to my reviewers for an answer to this one, I’ve scattered some special moments between Mai and Naru through out my fic that I know have gotten quite a reaction ;) I personally change my mind on this all of the time, but right now I’d say the most passionate scene I’ve written, would be the final scenes of Chapter 23. Mai and Naru alone at base after the blood rain in the theater. There’s a certain intensity there, so much tension has built up between them, there are things she wants to tell him, but can’t-- and he knows it. He’s worried for her, and she’s worried for him, and through that their passion for each other shows. The whole scene has that oooh-something-might-happen feeling, you just kind of hold your breath...it’s enough to make my heart race, and I’m the one who wrote it! Yes, I know I’m a dork ^__^

most sweet story:

Bedside Manner, hands down. It’s the first piece I wrote for the Ghost Hunt fandom and it features a really sweet ‘what-if’ scenario between John and Masako, where he takes care of her at the hospital after she’s hurt on their first case. Say it with me, awwww! <3 

”holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you!” story:

According to my sister, who pre-reads my GLM chapters before I post them: the Mr. Sachi x Miss Miyuki twist. Sorry? [evil cackle]

story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters & most unintentionally telling story:

No exact example of this really, except that after writing GLM for so long I feel even closer to the characters, that I know them better. Also, I’m having a harder time distinguishing between canon, and the canon of my fic...oops? lol!

Writing Kindred Spirits really put me in Catherine and Sydney’s frame of mind...which was really interesting. Writing out that piece between them really helped me build better theories on who they were as characters during the events of that time, which the show kept mostly hidden from us.

hardest story to write:

I sound like a broken record, but GLM. Naturally, right? It’s my longest running work and it has a mystery plot that, believe it or not, is not my greatest strength. Then there’s the added pressure of wanting to meet not only my expectations, but the expectations of my readers. I’m a perfectionist and I end up revising so much of what I write. Takes me forever. 

Also, my original novel. Every aspect of my novel is in the developing phase, nothing is certain or concrete, there’s just this vague sense of what I want the story to be and the excitement that goes with it. Every sentence I write is experimental. It has been a real challenge getting off the ground and out of my comfort zone. I have my good days and bad days. Still, I’m learning and looking forward to what these fingers will type next! 

biggest disappointment:

So many things. I think that’s apart of the yin/yang of writing. I’ve written and lost pieces of original work due to computer errors. That has to be the most disappointing, down right painful actually :( I back up my work obsessively now. 

Also, actually being able to write when I do have the time. It’s so funny that way. There will be plenty of times where I make the time, sit down all ready...and can’t seem to put out anything? Ah, the woes of being a writer ;)

biggest surprise:

How well received my work has been, the reviews my readers leave for me. Being a writer, putting yourself out there-- it’s nerve wrecking. Self-doubt is my friend. To get the kind of response I’ve gotten over the years, I am so grateful for it. When I say reviews fuel my writing, I truly mean it. Nothing motivates me like hearing that someone just can’t wait for more! Or that my writing has touched someone, made them laugh, ect...oh goodess! <3

taggity tags: @sy5starplaty (because I know you write :D) AND anyone else who writes that follows me, really-- I tag you! Do this, I want to hear about your writing :)